#because in his eyes *he could get back* he could get his fathers love he could be home

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

More Doki Doki Battle Academy OP AU

even MOOROEEE of themmmmmahhhhhhh babyeyyy i even added some dialogues fir some extra flavourrrrr (kuma and bonney's gif there would be a sprite he would have in his dialogue scenes. i dont think it would be a gif like this, more like everytime you look back at him, bonney would be in a different spot)

original DDBA designs post (has more lore there, go look at it plese :3

imagining the vinsmoke/strawhat beef going like this video

design stuffs and more lore:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

One of the schools is called the Germa 66 Private Battle Academy, it goes from grades 1-12 and its where the Vinsmoke siblings all went too (at least until sanji broke off from the family at some point) and its run by Judge Vinsmoke, their father.

i am thinking that the Vinsmoke kids would still be genetically modified and Kuma would be a cyborg in this too.

design stuffs:

Ichiji: i tried to make him as punk as he would feasably get away with living under his father's rule. Big "combat" boots, fingerless gloves, black undershirt. He likes his style and would probably go all out if he didnt have to conform to his school uniform, thus i put a little heart on his boots.

Niji: i also made him like his style. The rings on his fingers, his nikes shoes, his big headphones. Like a gamer who thinks this is what fashion is. I think he would love listening to music too so i put his heart on his headphones.

Yonji: big stakly guy. Hes a lot more hands-on than his brothers so i put lots of emphasis on that area. i put his heart on his hand wraps because i think he would really love fighting. I think that Yonji is most like his father in that enjoyment, but i think Judge wouldnt like how casual Yonji's style is.

Reiju: y2k queen. I love this design on her so much im so bummed that she would have already graduated from the academy and i cant put her in a Hit Me Baby One More Time-esque uniform outfit, shed fucking KILL THAT SHITTT. Anyway though, reiju's heart is subtle yet in plain view, the locket around her neck. i dont think she would let anyone look at the contents but i do think that absolutly it would be her mother on one side and her brothers on the other. She wouldnt like people looking at it because that would mean someone could see that her dad isnt in there and she would get it a lot of trouble with her father about it.

Power ranger fits: i made them full on power rangers. its what they deserve. Since reiju has a butterfly motif in canon, i thought it would be fun to also give her brothers a bug motif of their own. ichiji is a wasp, niji is a dragonfly, yonji is a stag beetle. If sanji stuck around, hed probably be a lady bug lol. Also the masks they wear, the eye window part, it’s like tear tracks coming out but in a way that doesnt look like thats what they are. But it’s meant to show how judge forcing his children to be these people is causing them pain.

thank you @zethsdumpster for being my Vinsmoke specialist and helping me come up with a lot of their design stuff!

Doflamingo: i tried to make him a Nasty Nasty man. Like if a used car salesman made it big. Like if Macklemore was MackleMORE. i love the idea that he likes to tan himself, but he doesnt take any of his clothes off to do so, so he just has the absolute craziest tan lines ever. i put his hearts on the gold chain around his neck, he loves his wealth but not much else. i love the idea of him having two very expensive watches on each wrist. there may be more watches up his sleeve too. i also gave him fluffy dice around his neck, like he's one of the cars that he's selling.

Rosinante: i couldnt get away much longer without putting the heart man into the heart 'game'. i couldve went off more with the hearts of his design but i didnt want him to become nearly as flashy as his brother. i wanted him to be understated and fade into the background when doflamingo is around. he is dead in this au btw sorry :/ this is his design when he passed, but doffy's design is present day him. anyway, Rosi's hearts are everywhere, its in the outline of his big huggable fluffy coat, its on his hat thats pulling him down, it would be on his shirt too if it wasnt covered by his coat in this image.

Bonney: SHEEES SO CUUTEEEE AAAAAAAA i love her. I based her design off of Avril Lavigne with her iconic necktie/tanktop/baggy pants looks. i tried to make her outfit look like she could feasibly fit in it when she ages herself up, especially her big ol shoes. the heart in her design is in her neck tie. The stereotypical visage of a dad is a man in a tie who goes to work, and she loves her dad, so her heart is in her dad tie.

Kuma: I didn't change much of him from his design in canon, but since bonney would be more in his life in this version, i wanted to give him more visual indicators of her being there. like the height chart on his leg, or the fuzzy hat she crocheted for him (she also made her own hat for herself). Also, the pattern on his shirt is one that looks like a paw, but if you took off that outer layer, if the pattern continued, the design would be a sun, and i just think that was really clever ehe ehe.

Hancock: Basically i tried to make her the baddest bitch in the universe. My program crashed like 3 times making her which is so funny. Procreate couldnt handle her. I based her design off of Medusa. at first i had her snake be made out of marble, but it eventually wound up at Obsidian. She has no visible hearts on her design and thats because it would be the scar on her back, which she tries to hide. i like the idea that this very visibly revealing outfit would be perfectly tailored and reinforced to never move a single inch to let anyone see what theyre not supposed to. I dont know how i would justify her being able to turn people into stone in this AU, so im just not going to make a decision on whether or not she can do that.

ive been working on these designs off and on ever since i made the first post on this au and im real happy i can finally put more out.

if you got to the end of this, thank you so much for reading~ i hope you enjoyed :)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

When You're Ready

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: being a single mom, the hard side of being a parent, overstimulation?

Summary: Being a single mother hasn’t always been easy, and life catches up to you whether you want it to or not. You have so much on your plate that you’re not even thinking about being in a relationship. Spencer likes you and he makes it clear that he’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.

Square Filled: huddle for warmth for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Today could not be any worse than it is right now. You didn’t have time to brush your hair, you barely got your teeth brushed, your clothes are wrinkly because you forgot to iron them last night, the heater is broken in your house so all your daughter does is complain that it’s too cold, and you’re trying to get both her and yourself ready for the day.

“Mama, I’m hungry!” she whines.

“Food is coming, baby,” you say.

As you try not to cry, you plate more breakfast for her and set it on her tray. She immediately digs into the pancakes like she’s never been fed before. The TV is blaring in the living room as it plays yet another episode of Spongebob, her favorite TV show. Right now, that little sponge is giving you a massive headache. The coffee machine beeps for the tenth time, and you have an overwhelming urge to chuck it out the window. The machine has been broken for quite some time now but will make a cup of coffee every once in a while.

Today is not one of those days.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and you just about stop and cry right there. What now? Who could this possibly be while you’re already running late for work? You leave Casey in the kitchen and walk to the front door. On the way, you almost slip on one of her toys, and you kick it harder than you should have. You open the front door and see your housekeeper standing there. You barely have enough to pay her since you had to downgrade a bunch of stuff since the divorce, but she stayed and accepted the new salary.

You’re honestly not sure what you would do without her.

“Oh, Shelly, it’s you.”

“Rough morning?” Tears well in your eyes at her question because you’re forced to think how this morning has been in a sea of bad ones. “Oh, Y/N, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here now.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and close the door behind her. You turn down the TV so that you don’t have to shout at Shelly. “Um, Casey has a field trip today. I looked at the weather and it’s going to be cold so make sure she packs a jacket. She’ll fight it but make sure she has one, okay?”

“Y/N, how long have I been looking after this little girl? I’ll be okay. Don’t you have work?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here, let me.”

She fixes your hair until it looks presentable, and you give her a warm smile.

“Thank you. The coffee machine is broken. I’ll pick one up on the way home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a new one. I have a few other things to pick up at the store.”

“Okay. Bye, Casey! Mommy is off to work. I love you!”

“I love you!” she sings back.

Despite how hard it’s being a single mom, she always brings a smile to your face. Not only is it hard being a single mom, but you work in the FBI where your job is demanding and requires a lot out of you. It’s why you needed to hire Shelly. Before, she was here because your ex-husband paid to have her clean the house. You both had jobs and weren't home enough to keep up with it. Now with Casey, she’s a blessing in disguise.

Hotch makes it look so easy. Since Haley was killed, he’s been doing a good job at raising his son and being the Unit Chief. He has Beth and Haley’s sister, but it’s just him most of the time. You have no one but Shelly, and she only comes three times a week. Casey’s father fled the second you told him you were pregnant so you had to do this entire thing by yourself. All Casey knows is the team because you have them over ever so often.

She’s more familiar with Hotch since he brings Jack over for playdates because they are around the same age. Though, she loves Spencer more than anyone on the team. You’re only friends with him but he’s expressed interest in you. He’s made it clear that you’re on his mind, but you can’t be dating right now. There’s no time for boyfriends or flings or whatever Spencer would be. Your life is too complicated. Add in a toddler and a lawsuit for child support, and it’s too much for someone else to handle.

You told him this much, and he seems okay with being your friend. You still catch him watching you and blushing when you give him a compliment, but he’s been respectful of your boundaries.

You walk into work and notice everyone inside the briefing room. You practically throw your shit down on your desk and run to the briefing room.

“So sorry I’m late. Traffic,” you white-lie.

“It’s okay. We’re just going over updates on our cases and finishing files,” Hotch says.

The B Team must be out right now, and you sag your shoulders in relief. You need a chill day right now more than anything. After a rundown of the open cases, you take yours back to your desk to get started on them. Spencer does the same but he approaches your desk from the front.

You barely look up at him. “Oh, hey, Spencer.”

“Rough morning?” You scoff but don’t say anything. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. “How is Casey doing?”

“She’s good. She has a field trip today at the aquarium.”

Spencer is about to say a fact when he sees the look on your face. Maybe he shouldn’t be himself right now.

“That should be fun.” Again, you don’t respond. All you want to do is focus on your work and not on the headache you have. Instead of going back to his desk, he sits next to yours. “You know, if you ever need someone to watch Casey, I’m more than happy to do it. Even for an entire weekend. It’ll give you time to yourself.” You stop typing and look at him. “Only if it’s okay with you, of course. Or maybe I can come over and hang with her while you get some sleep or something.”

“What are you doing?”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

It’s the way he said it that makes your back crack under the pressure. You know he doesn’t deserve this but you’re saying it anyway because he’s here.

“You’re not her father, Spencer!”

“I know, but--”

“Look, that’s nice of you to offer but I have been raising her by myself since she was born. Even before she was born. I didn’t need help then and I don’t need it now. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You gather your finished files and walk away from your desk. Tears threaten to spill but you won’t let it. Not now.

“Okay,” Spencer says, his voice small.

Yep, you hate yourself now. Truth be told, he kind of scares you. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and that scares you. He’s safe and predictable and dependable, everything you never had, not even with Casey’s father. He messed you up so badly that you learned you can’t depend on anyone for anything.

Not even Spencer.

After putting your files away, you slip into the bathroom and just cry. All this stress shouldn’t be good for you. The bathroom door opens and you immediately wipe the tears away. JJ frowns when she sees the tears, and you splash some water on your face to get the redness to go away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could come over to my place at two instead of four. Will is having his boys come at two, and I figured my girls could be there at the same time to get coordinated with them.”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot about my wedding. It’s next weekend. You’re my maid of honor.”

Shit. You completely forgot about that. You’ve been so focused on not breaking down that her wedding has completely slipped your mind.

“No, I didn't forget.” You wince at the lie. “Okay, it slipped my mind, but I will be there. Two, not four.” You’re about to leave when you remember Shelly telling you she is going out of town next weekend. You don’t have money for a babysitter. “Would it be okay if I brought Casey? Shelly is going to be out of town.”

“Yes, the more the merrier. I love Casey, and I know Henry does, too.”

“Thank you, JJ,” you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just stressed is all. I don’t think I slept more than a few hours each night, my hair needs a cut, I need an everything shower, and I don’t have time to do any of it.”

“Yeah, motherhood can be tough.”

“Tell me about it. Not to mention, I think I might have hurt Spencer’s feelings. I yelled at him. He’s just trying to help.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it. What did he say?”

“He offered to look after Casey for a weekend.”

“It might be good to take him up on the offer.”

You shrug. “I gotta get back to work.” You leave the bathroom and notice Spencer at his own desk. “Spencer?” He looks up and smiles when he sees you, making you feel even worse than you do. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You were just trying to help.”

“The offer still stands if and when you want to use it. Think about it.”

The rest of the week is pretty chill since the B Team is still out, giving you and Spencer more time to strengthen your relationship. He shows up to work with an extra coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a smile just for you. He wants to make sure you eat because that’s the only thing he can do right now to help you.

On the day of the wedding, you know he is going to be right there in the audience. He agreed to look after Casey while you stand next to JJ, so you’re getting her dressed in her pretty pink sparkle dress.

“So, while Mommy is up with Aunt JJ, you’re going to be seated next to Spencer in the audience. Right there in the front.”

“I like Spencer,” she grins.

You smooth down your hair and smile. “Me, too.”

“Are you gonna marry him?”

“No,” you laugh.

“I bet he’d make a great dad.”

You choose not to say anything to that and lead her down the aisle where Spencer is seated. The wedding is located in JJ’s own backyard, but it’s perfect. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and more. Casey has a strict bedtime but the wedding goes past that, so naturally, she gets cranky by the time the reception happens. She’s hungry and restless, two things a toddler should never be at the same time.

“Just another hour and I promise, we can go home. I promised JJ we’d be here.”

“I’m hungry, Mama, and I’m bored.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

You look up and see Spencer approaching you two.

“Sorry, she skipped her nap today, and it’s past her bedtime. She’s just bored.”

“May I?” You nod. “Hey, Casey? Would you like to dance? Just one, and then maybe we can get some cake.”

“Okay,” she grins.

Spencer takes her to the dancefloor while you stay seated at one of the tables. He whispers something to her and she eagerly steps onto his shoes. He dances around in circles with her on his shoes, and she giggles happily. It doesn’t matter how much of a shitty week you’ve been having. She’s smiling and laughing and that means you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Spencer picks her up and holds her close so he can dance properly, and she leans her head on his chest.

Would it be so bad to let him in? Maybe not, but you’re clearly not in the headspace for it. Is he willing to wait? You don’t want to keep him from other relationships even though it doesn’t look like he’s rushing to be in one.

After two songs are over, Spencer lets her down. He whispers something to her and she runs off in search of either Henry, Jack, or both. He walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You grab his hand and he brings you to the dancefloor. The next song is a slow one, so he pulls you in close to him. One hand in yours and the other low on your back. Has he always smelled this good?

“Thank you for what you did. She likes you a lot.”

“I like her a lot.” He dips his head lower so that his forehead barely touches the top of your head. “I like her mother, too.” Your heart thumps but in a good way. It’s like everyone else around you disappears until it’s only you and Spencer. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

You look up at him with tears. “What?”

“If time and space is what you need, I’ll give it to you. Just know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“You might be waiting a while,” you whisper.

“I’m a patient man.”

You rest your head on Spencer’s chest and let the music guide you. He runs his hand up and down your back, creating a safe and warm aura about him.

“You make me feel safe,” you whisper.

Whether he hears it or not, he doesn’t respond. He just continues to dance with you long after the song has ended.

x

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[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act II

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old forgotten ruins, if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: hints of angst, tiny bit suggestive, making out?

Word Count: 8,7k

Rating: 18+

Notes: This part was running even longer than the first one so I split it into two parts and my plans for this story to only have 3 parts have changed into 4. I can't help myself in adding little details to this story, I love these two so much. Also just realized how long it has been since the first part, I'm so sorry for how long it took. Hope you enjoy!

Act I

It's almost unbelievable how much life can change within two weeks, to the point Azriel can hardly remember what it was like to live without a mate, without you. This is only the third time he has come to the temple after you agreed to give the bond a try, and he's already eternally glad you did. Sitting on the steps to the temple, watching the sun set over the mountain while his mate told him about her life was now a normal occurrence. He truly couldn't believe his luck.

Not even a month ago, Azriel would have spent the time he had between missions either training himself to exhaustion or simply doing some more spy work behind his High Lord's back. Every family dinner or outing was plagued by his cruel thoughts, always murmuring about his unworthiness while he watched his friends happy and in love, never allowing him a moment of reprieve. But now he got to meet his mate, talk to her for hours and learn her innermost thoughts. By the Mother, he was even contemplating asking Rhys for some time off for the first time in his life so he could see you more often.

“It's impossible to get tired of this view,” you murmur, taking in the barely visible sun rays as the sky turns different shades of pink and orange. As cliché as it sounds, Azriel thought the same thing as he watched you.

He manages to drag his eyes away from your beautiful, peaceful face, studying the view you'd shared with him. You were right, this view could easily rival Velaris at night. Since the temple sat at the top of the mountain, you could see the entire forest from here, and, as beautiful as the sunset had been, he knows the moonlight brings out the true beauty of this place, and yours as well. It's almost unbelievable how you could become even more captivating than you already were, he could hardly take his eyes off you when the moon rays were shining down on you, reflecting on your white hair and adding an even more intense twinkle to your white, silvery eyes.

“How long have you been living here?”

“Almost four hundred years,” you say, nibbling on the biscuits the temple provided at the wave of your hand. He had learned the temple shared a similar spell to the House of Wind and Rhys' cabin. “I was almost thirty when I came.”

The thought of you locked in this temple for that long brings up memories of the dark cell his father kept him in when he was a child, but he tries to shake them away quickly. You were here of your own free will, and as far as he could tell you rather enjoyed living in the temple. This place couldn't be compared to the cell he'd been in any way.

He hopes you didn't catch where his thoughts went, this bond is hard to control most of the time and feelings often filter through unattended. It's because of the feelings the bond brings up that he often finds himself thinking of those moments he has been trying to forget for centuries as well. It almost feels like the bond is prying open everything he has kept locked away, wanting to lay him bare before his mate.

Still, it was hard to believe that you would be completely satisfied living hidden away, no matter how shiny your cage or how fulfilling your role in the temple was. He enjoys his quiet time a lot more than the average person, something even his family doesn't understand at times, but he can't imagine what it's like to live alone for centuries, with no one's company but your own. Azriel couldn't have survived with only his thoughts as company, not when his mind is such an ugly place, even his duty wouldn't keep him alive then.

You smile up at him before he has the chance to put his worries into the right words. “I know what you're thinking. It gets lonely up here, I can't deny that, and I know I've missed a lot of experiences over the course of my life, some that I might never get the chance to relive, but I've always been happy up here.”

“Do you have any family left? Friends?”

“No. Any friends I had before coming here have probably long forgotten about me, some might not even be alive anymore,” you look at him then, hesitation making itself known in your tone and mannerisms. He might have overstepped without meaning to.

“My parents passed away a few decades ago. They came to visit me as much as they could, and we'd send each other letters every few weeks. They came by to spend every Solstice and birthday with me.” You let out a small laugh, “Once they had a little fight and my mom just showed up here with a bag full of clothes and a couple boxes of cupcakes.” You look down at your hands, a lump forming in your throat, “They're the ones I miss the most.”

“I'm sorry.”

There was a tight feeling coiling around his chest, but he can't quite pinpoint if it was his own response to you being sad or if your feelings were bleeding into his own. All he knew is that he wanted to put a smile back on your face.

“It's okay. They were both close to a millennia old and lived their life to the fullest. I would have liked to be with them in their final moments, but it wouldn't have changed anything.”

“Is it really impossible for you to leave? Even at times like those?”

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the emotion talking about your parents' deaths evoked. “Yes, being bound to the temple is part of the oath I made. I'm not entirely sure what would happen if I actually managed to break the wards, but I would lose my powers and wouldn't be able to come back at the very least.”

The emphasis you put into the final words told him you thought more would happen. Breaking an oath with a God could very well be fatal, since even a regular bargain made between fae can take someone's life if not fulfilled. He feels a string tightening around his heart as it usually does when he's reminded of your predicament. You will never leave this temple, and, as much as he wants to respect your wishes, he can't help but mourn what your life could have been, what the two of you could have been. There's so much he wishes he could show you, beautiful places he wants to take you to, and people he wishes you could meet.

“There were times when it was hard to be stuck here.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, finding you've turned around, sitting cross-legged as you face him. “Obviously it was hard when my parents died, though the Goddess allowed their ashes to be brought to me so I could scatter them on this mountain,” your eyes travel to his wings, lingering on a few scars that will never leave the leathery skin, “I think it was even harder to bear when Amarantha came into Prythian and imprisoned the High Lords, and then when the war with Hybern broke out.”

You let silence fall between you for a few moments, eyes falling down onto your hands, kneading your left palm with your thumb as the first rays of moonlight made the aura around you more noticeable, a faint white light glowing around your entire body. He hopes it's not sacrilegious to think so, but you truly looked like a Goddess in this moment. His eyes fall onto your hands as well, debating on reaching to hold them in his warm ones when you resume your explanation.

“This power the Goddess shared with me has made me very strong, enough so that She leaves the protection of the temple entirely to me, but the biggest downside is that I can't help outside these wards,” you look up into his eyes then, regret lacing into your words, “I could have helped you. If the oath that gave me these powers didn't include staying in this temple, I could have tried to placate Amarantha before she could take everyone Under the Mountain, or at the very least fight alongside you during the war. A lot of people wouldn't have lost their lives if I could have helped.”

He understands what you mean, he has fought even while injured multiple times, during this war even, not willing to stop when he knows he can help even if it cost him his life, so he knows that watching from afar knowing you could have made a difference had to have been extremely frustrating, but he also can't help but feel selfishly glad you weren't there. The war had been bloody and cruel, if he could he would shield you from that sight if it was the last thing he did.

“You said it was Fate that decided you were supposed to live in this temple and protect it, right?” You nod, confusion written on your face. “Then it wasn't your place to be in the war. The temple was written into your life, and the war was written into ours. There's nothing we can do to change our fate.”

He seems to have said the right thing as you watch his face, the pained expression you previously wore slowly being replaced with a happier one, a smile even making its way into your lips, not quite as bright as before but a good start nonetheless.

“I still wish I could have gone,” you say, a twinkle in your eye, “maybe then you would have been written into my life sooner.”

Azriel had never found himself blushing as often as he does when he's around you in the five hundred years he's been alive. The worst part is it seems like you're not doing it on purpose. You keep complimenting him, showing him how much you enjoy having him in your life effortlessly, as if it's simply in your nature. Still, he can clearly see how much you enjoy the fact that you can bring him to this state so easily, a proud expression obvious on your face as you watch color take over the tips of his ears. Luckily for him, it's extremely easy to turn you into a bashful mess as well.

He shifts his weight onto his palm, leaning closer to you, a swift and fast movement, that of a trained soldier. Your sweet, intoxicating scent assaults him instantly, images of how he would let it intertwine with his own invading his mind for a treacherous moment - the mating bond seldom lets him have a moment of peace. Your breath hitches under his attention, wide eyes locked onto his.

“We've been written into each other's lives from the moment we were born, before our world was created even.” Your eyes travel down to his lips for a beat, the movement was quick enough that he might have mistaken it if it weren't for your proximity. It brings a satisfied smile to his lips as he adds, “whether at the temple or on that battlefield I would have found my way to you. That I can promise you.”

The reaction you give him is nothing short of delicious. Mouth slightly agape as you struggle to maintain eye contact at his confession, the wild rhythm of your heartbeat ringing in his ears and down the bond. He decides to push his luck a bit and test the waters, leaning even closer, enough so that your warm breath meets his skin, eyes dropping to your lips before stealing a cookie from the plate that sat beside you, straightening up as he brings it to his mouth, giving you space once more. He can't help the smile from growing when he hears your intake of breath, eyes dropping to your lap and hands smoothing down your skirt as you try to regain composure.

On one hand, he almost feels bad for teasing you like this, knowing there's a big difference in how you have both led your lives up to this point, even if you're relatively close in age. He would also hate to make you feel actually uncomfortable in any way. But, on the other hand, he wants nothing more than to whisper the most depraved things he wants to do to you so he can watch desire take over your face, so he can erase any semblance of innocence away. Although knowing exactly how experienced or not you are will end up being pertinent information if you both choose to keep chasing this bond, Azriel decides to take mercy on you tonight and change the subject.

“What was your life like before coming here?”

Looking up at him with tinted cheeks and wide eyes, you blink a few times, taking you a moment to answer, probably not expecting him to ask you a question so soon or too lost in your thoughts - he briefly wonders if they're any similar to his. Azriel can almost feel the bond purring, that ancient, inexplicable tether delighted at both your reaction and his playfulness, at your closeness.

“I'd say I used to live a pretty normal life,” you start, focusing on his shadows as they played over the steps, still too embarrassed to keep his gaze, “I used to live in a fairly small town, one of those where everyone knows each other and nothing too exciting ever happens,” a nostalgic smile takes over your lips, remembering your childhood. Azriel wishes he could take you back there, have you show him around the place where you grew up.

“My parents owned a small bakery so I helped them around before coming here. I liked baking with them, I wasn't too bad at it either, though the early schedule wasn't my favorite, I always liked sleeping in.” You seem lost in thought for a moment before shrugging and continuing, “Outside of that I had a few friends and a couple of lovers… nothing special.”

Azriel tries to ignore the sick twist of jealousy he feels at the mention of past lovers, knowing it's completely unfair to you, and irrelevant to your relationship now, but that damned bond doesn't know the first thing about rationality. Rhysand wasn't kidding when he said the mating bond grates, at times it was almost suffocating.

“One of the things I miss the most from those times are my parents' pastries,” you pout slightly, a playful glint in your eyes, “I may be biased but they were delicious.”

“It might not be the same, but I can bring you some from Velaris,” he offers. “The bakeries in town are always putting out new delicious things. I'm sure you would love them.”

“I'd like that very much, Azriel,” you say, that blinding smile he loves so much returning to your lips, a smile of his own mirroring yours. His name sounds like heaven, hell, and everything in between falling from your lips.

“Next time I'll bring you some of my favorites,” he pauses, a thought occurring to him as he tilts his head, “Actually, I don't have too much of a sweet tooth so I'll bring you Cassian's favorites instead. I think you would much prefer the chocolate covered cakes he likes to eat than my lemon tarts.”

“It's a deal then,” you nod at him, extending your hand for him to take, Azriel doesn't resist even for a second, letting you shake his hand as if you were in fact making a business transaction. “And if you come empty-handed I might put in a word with the Goddess and not let you in.” He lets out a chuckle, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting go, missing the warmth of your palm against his immediately. To think there would come a day where he would actually want someone to keep holding his hand.

“You can bring some of your lemon tarts too, I want to try what you like first,” you tilt your head, “but you're right, my favorite is always chocolate.”

Azriel chuckles, “Both it is.”

The rest of your time together is spent much like this, talking for hours about any and everything. By the time he forces himself to tell you he needs to go back to Velaris, the moon was already ready to make its way for the sun once more, and your eyelids were significantly heavier, trying your hardest to ignore your fatigue in favor of staying with him for as long as possible.

He never knows what to do or say when it's time to say goodbye to you. It's abundantly clear that neither of you want him to leave. There's also always a part of him that fears he won't be able to come back, that for whatever reason the Goddess decides he's not in need of the temple anymore and the wards keep him out of your reach.

Aside from that, your relationship has been walking the line between platonic and romantic from the first day. You wanted to keep your heart and his as safe as possible given the entire situation. He couldn't fault you for that, but that meant you were stuck acting like friends, as if a mating bond wasn't connecting your bodies and souls, and because of it Azriel couldn't grab your cheeks and kiss you like he's been desperately dreaming of, even though your eyes find themselves entranced by his lips as often as the other way around.

As he gets lost in thought, wondering how your lips would taste, your eyes drop to his shadows, unaware of it all. Dark wisps moving from his own natural shadow cast by the moonlight to yours, some of the bravest, more disobedient ones even swirling up to your ankles tentatively. At least they were still being respectful.

“They like me,” you smile brightly down at them.

Like is not a strong enough word to describe his shadows' feelings when it comes to you. At times it's even hard to make them focus on their job as they sit and wonder what you're up to in the temple. Part of this might be his fault since he has always used them to spy on anyone he needed to, and now he's finding it hard to explain to these beings, who struggle with social cues as it is, that spying is a breach of privacy, something he only does because it's his job, and the last thing he would ever do to you, so they can't go and check on you simply because he misses you every second of the day.

Apart from that they've also taken to giving him romantic advice - which has been disturbing to say the least, - whispering words into his ear that they think you would like to hear, trying to guide him to the flowers or pastries they somehow know you prefer as he passes by the market street, even pushing him to sing to you. They go as far as trying to convey their own feelings to you through him, whispering praises in his ear, and in turn making the bond inside him wish he could send his own shadows on a trip to the bottom of the ocean never to return.

“Yes, I think they do,” he says defeatedly as he watches one of his impertinent shadows travel up to your hand, swirling around it as you bring it up closer to your face for inspection. He can't wait to hear how delighted it is of gaining your attention.

“Shouldn't they hide from the light?”

Azriel takes a step closer, holding your hand and ordering the shadows to cross over to his body so he can have this moment with you. Raising his hand up to your cheek, scarred thumb caressing your soft skin as he murmurs, “Not from yours.”

The irony of his mate being someone who quite literally glowed in the dark wasn't lost on him. For some reason, the fact only further proved you were made for each other in his mind. It's almost like the Mother was telling him that no matter how dark his soul was, it would never diminish your light as it glowed ever eternal alongside your Goddess.

“I really have to go now.”

It pains him to say it, but he's already going to be late and that'll raise questions he's been trying very hard to avoid. It was enough of a miracle that Rhys hadn't told anyone - outside of Feyre of course - that Azriel had found his mate, and he would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. They would ask him too many questions he wouldn't know how to answer, and, admittedly, he also wants to avoid the teasing comments while the bond is so fresh - nothing good can come out of giving Cassian and Nesta a way to make him blush with only a couple of words.

“Alright,” you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. Every time he has to leave you behind, he considers giving up everything and moving to this temple with you.

You raise on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, his eyes closing as a shudder runs through him, wings coiling tighter into his back. His other hand comes up to the other side of your face, his lips falling upon your forehead as a wave of satisfaction rushes his side of the bond. Both of your hearts beating wildly as he steps away slowly and starts walking closer to the edge of the stairs.

“I'll come back as soon as possible,” he promises one more time before taking flight.

“I know, Azriel. I'll be waiting.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The unmistakable feeling of someone passing through the barrier rushes over you, sending your heart racing immediately. For a moment you think it's Azriel coming by unannounced, a smile breaking out on your lips as you get up to your feet, but a quick look into the bond that lays dormant inside you is enough to tell you he's still in Velaris, far away from the temple.

Your smile drops and a wave of sadness washes over you, freezing you in place, heart dropping at the reminder of the distance that lays between you and your mate, of the days you'll still have to endure alone before his next visit.

You feel movement again, now closer to the top steps, and shake yourself out of unwanted thoughts, pushing them all to the back of your mind as you shake any stray cookie crumbs from your trousers. If it isn't Azriel coming to see you then it's definitely someone coming to visit the temple, and you have a duty to fulfill.

It's only been a few weeks since Azriel first came looking for the temple, you've never had visitors showing up so close together. They're usually few and far in between, leaving you on your own atop the mountain for years at a time as the rumors about the temple die off among most of the population. The prospect of seeing someone again so soon has excitement rushing through your veins, completely overshadowing the solemn feelings from before.

You walk to the mirror, quickly checking your appearance before winnowing straight to the top of the stairs, catching your new visitor by surprise as she walks towards the temple slowly. The gasp she lets out when she spots you waiting for her brings a bigger smile to your lips, making you almost giddy as you cross your hands behind your back.

“Welcome to the Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple and I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats as well as helping anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just like you have.”

The well rehearsed speech comes to you naturally, the words flowing effortlessly from your mouth as you take in your visitor's wonder, curious eyes taking in the beautiful place. Of course she didn't have any speech rehearsed but it might as well have been since her next words mirror everyone else's when they arrive.

“I never knew there was a temple here,” the awe in her face brings you the usual sense of pride.

“It's a bit of a secret,” you wink at her, walking closer to the temple, motioning with your hand for her to follow you.

“My grandmother used to say these mountains were the most beautiful place in Prythian so I wanted to spread her ashes here, but I always thought she meant the actual mountains,” she muses. “This place is breathtaking.”

“The temple is hidden behind a powerful spell. I'm afraid when talking about this day your memories will be somewhat limited,” you explain softly as you lead her to the gardens in the back, the perfect view for her grandmother's final resting place.

As you go through the usual explanation, you realize you truly skipped most of it when it came to Azriel's first visit, though you still think you did better than expected given the circumstances. It's easy to forget your own name or any rehearsed speeches when you find yourself face to face with your mate.

The rest of the visit goes by fairly quickly. You lead her to the gardens and let her choose the perfect place among the flowers and trees, helping her spread the ashes as instructed, saying a quick prayer and then allowing her a moment to grieve, standing off to the side while still keeping a watchful eye over everything.

You can't help but let your eyes wander to the spot where you had spread your parents' ashes, the tears lining the young fae's eyes reminding you of the countless ones you had spilled as you went through the same. Over the years you've grown somewhat accustomed to their absence, - never fully, you've long since accepted that would be impossible, - but recent events have made you bitterly aware of it.

You wished you could tell your parents you had found your mate, would give anything to feel the anxiety of introducing them to Azriel. Now you can only imagine nervously writing them a letter, telling them all about the charming fae the Mother had chosen for you. They would show up at the temple the next day, not even the Goddess would be able to keep your mother from meeting her daughter's fated mate. Gods, they would have loved him.

A weak sigh escapes you. Nothing could take away the pain of losing a loved one, but you hope that the thought that her grandmother now lies within the temple's walls will lessen her grief even if just for a moment.

It's time to accompany her back to the stairs in no time, her tearful thanks and goodbyes echoing over the entrance hall. Watching the young fae descend the steps brings you a sense of accomplishment as usual, but this time there's an annoyingly acute emptiness growing inside you, tainting it.

Most visitors don't linger in the temple, only getting what they came for before going on their way, before going back to their busy lives, but as you watch her disappear between the trees, you're left wishing she would have stayed longer, sat with you and talked for a moment.

It wouldn't be fair not to acknowledge that this feeling had always manifested inside you after every visit you've received over the centuries, especially back when your parents were the ones stopping by and leaving you with hesitant glances over their shoulders, but you know that it had only grown more noticeable after Azriel first arrived.

Becoming familiar with someone's presence once again had made you more aware of your situation, more aware of just how many words and thoughts you had been keeping to yourself in your years of seclusion. It reminded you of how alone you truly were up in this temple. Before, the silence had been part of your routine, something you had no problem falling back onto after the rare visitor came and disturbed it. Now it felt like a consistently harder task, the silence ringing too loud in your ears, making you too aware of the echo that followed your footsteps.

Sitting down on the first step, you let out a sigh from deep in your chest, stretching your legs out, only noticing then that you had not changed out of your slippers in your rush earlier. It's a shame, you only really wear your nicer shoes when you have guests, which even with Azriel's more regular visits doesn't happen nearly often enough.

You feel yet another stab through your heart when you realize your first instinct is wanting to share the news with your mate, tell him about your visitor and your silly mistake, tell him how it reminded you of your parents and maybe even confide in him how lonely it all had made you feel.

You've been alone for so long that you had forgotten what wanting to share every exciting thing that happens with someone felt like. What is quickly becoming a familiar ache settles over you at the cold reminder that Azriel isn't within your reach. You'll have to wait until he visits again to share these news with him and see the smile on his face.

It's been over a week since he last came by, which wouldn't be much time at all if he weren't your mate and you couldn't feel him through the bond, so close but so far away. He warned you he would be busy with an assignment, even promised he would make it up to you when he was finished with it, but you can't rationalize how much you miss him or how much you wish he was by your side, and so you keep sitting on those steps well into the night, waiting for someone who isn't coming.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

With delectable excitement running through his veins, the kind that only you could bring out of him, Azriel takes one last look in the mirror, fixing his shirt and running his fingers through his hair, making sure everything looks perfect and in place before entrusting yet another box of pastries to his shadows. He has been on the hunt for the best chocolate cookies in Velaris ever since you told him they were your favorite, but he also can't stop himself from trying to spoil you in any way he can.

It's been over a week since he last saw you, and Azriel has been counting down the days for your next meeting ever since he left your side. He couldn't help but feel uncharacteristically annoyed whenever he remembered the mission that ended up keeping him away from home, and in turn from you, for several days. Deep down he knew Rhys had actually been giving him more free time to go visit you than he usually would have in other circumstances, even covering for him when he disappeared for hours on end so the others didn't find it too suspicious. Unfortunately, the bond often spoke louder, and with it came a moodiness that Azriel only felt lifting up earlier today, when he started getting ready to see you.

He makes his way downstairs, already worrying about how the flight will mess up the hair he had just been combing through so carefully. If it weren't for the wards surrounding the House of Wind, he would have winnowed straight to the temple.

“You took a bath.”

A voice coming from the sitting room calls after him, effectively stopping him in his tracks, shadows crawling up his tense body. He curses himself, some spymaster he was, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had company nor the forethought to avoid it. It seems he won't be able to leave without anyone noticing after all.

Azriel hesitates for a moment, unwilling to linger and lose even a second of precious time with his mate. Leaving would only make him appear more suspicious though, so he takes a couple steps into the room instead, finding the oldest and the youngest Archeron sisters looking back at him with amusement written in their eyes.

“I bathe.”

“You don't usually use any of the smelling washes.” Nesta's tone sounds nothing short of accusatory, glancing at Feyre while she talks as if trying to prove a point. “Not since recently at least.”

Azriel was never one to overthink about his appearance, perfectly content with keeping things simple, so it really doesn't come as a surprise that his best friend would notice his newly found appreciation for it. He had also not only accepted a few of Mor's invites to go shopping but also started using the clothes, fragrances and even accessories her and Rhys had gifted him over the years - something that unfortunately the High Lord had picked up on too and teased him relentlessly for whenever they were alone.

And, even in his recent distracted state, he would have to be a fool not to notice Nesta's curiosity towards his whereabouts and sudden mood changes. She has even been asking him about his missions, feigning interest in his spymaster duties just so she can catch him in a lie, knowing he would never dress like this to go spy on their enemies.

“Are you suggesting I smell, Nesta?”

“No, you smell amazing,” she clarifies quickly, sounding so sincere that he feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. Now he almost wishes Cassian was here.

“Then what's the problem?”

Knowing Feyre as well he does, it's extremely commendable that she's managing to keep quiet through this whole conversation, even more so that she hasn't said anything when Nesta surely came asking her what she knew. It also sends a certain warmth through him that she's going against her instincts to keep his secret - even though she and Rhysand have probably been gossiping about him every chance they get.

“There's no problem. I'm simply curious,” she says, clearing her throat before adding with a wicked glint in her eye, “you can't tell me you used your best smelling cologne to go on a mission.”

“I didn't say I was going on a mission,” he says, humoring her for a bit.

As amusing as this unexpected back and forth was turning out to be, it was, at the same time, stealing some of the precious time he had with you. He should have already made it out of Velaris, over the mountains where he would winnow straight to you.

“Then where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I'm going to have dinner with my mother,” Azriel offers, tone not wavering around the lie even for a moment.

“Oh.”

He feels a little bad for lying, especially since he's using his mother of all people as an excuse, but he knows that if he explained the situation to her she wouldn't mind at all. In fact, this reminded him to make some time to visit his mom, not only had it been quite a while since he last went, but he also wanted to tell her all about you.

Hiding the truth from Nesta and the rest of his family wasn't something he was content with either. Azriel knows they would all be overjoyed with the fact that he had found his Mother blessed mate, but he wanted to make sense of the situation before telling them. As things stand you're simply his friend, even with the shimmering bond between you, and you're still up in your temple, far away from everyone. He wouldn't even be able to properly explain the situation or his feelings on it, Gods know he tries whenever Rhys asks. He probably wouldn't even be able to take them to meet you.

Talking to his mother was always easier though. She never expected answers or explanations, she truly only wanted him to be happy. He can imagine the load off her shoulders it would be to find out her son had found a mate. Yes, he needs to make time to tell her, if no one else.

“I hope you have a lovely dinner, Az,” Feyre says, hiding a knowing smile behind her teacup, apparently not helping herself in at least getting a word in.

“Yes, I hope it all goes well,” Nesta adds, recovering rather quickly, the glint returning to her eyes as she likely reminds herself that one dinner with his mother doesn't explain all his strange recent behavior. Maybe he could still make a spy out of her, she's definitely determined.

Azriel simply nods and bids them a quick goodbye, doing his best to walk at a normal place to the front door, a relieved sigh escaping him when he shoots up into the air, passing the wards keeping the House of Wind safe, feeling himself get engulfed by his shadows as they take him closer to you.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

“When you first showed up I thought you weren't a good flier,” you reminisce, leaning back further into the cushions propped at your back, a smile playing at your lips. “Or that maybe you were still young.”

Azriel's gaze darts around the library at your words, a breath escaping him before his beautiful hazel eyes meet yours once again. Biting your lip, you try to stop your smile from growing as you watch a flush traveling across his skin, crawling up his delectable neck until his rounded ears become tinted with a pinkish color.

“My wings froze in place,” he admits with a soft smile of his own. “It's a miracle I landed on my feet at all.”

A giggle escapes you then, followed by a breathy chuckle from him, remembering the way his knees had buckled under his weight, how your own felt equally as weak in the face of the all-consuming mating bond. The sound echoes around the library for a moment, carrying around the bookshelves and artifacts laying about, a delighted sound that these walls have not been privy to too often, so used to the silence as they were, as you were.

This was the first time you've brought him into the library since his first visit and the initial tour of the temple you had given him. You usually stay outside whenever Azriel comes to visit, either sitting by the steps watching the moon and the stars, or in the garden, on a bench by the flowers; under a tree, taking advantage of the soft grass that grows here with the Goddess' blessing. But as time passes and his visits become more frequent, you suddenly felt the urge to show him different parts of the temple, to have these little dates - if you could even call them that - in different places to make up for the fact that you couldn't leave the temple's grounds. The light rain that fell today, signaling the end of summer, had been the perfect opportunity.

What you didn't expect was for it to feel so much more intimate. It shouldn't have come as a surprise honestly, this is your house after all and even if he had been here multiple times he had never really lingered inside so now bringing him to the room you spend most of your days in feels different, it made your heart beat faster as soon as he walked in, the bond screaming in elation when he sat in the sofa you're curled in almost every day, taking his place by your side. You don't think you'll ever be able to sit here without this image popping up into your mind.

“I think you did good under the circumstances,” you offer, hand twitching at your side, wanting to reach out and touch the flush covering his cheek, reaching for another cookie instead to keep your treacherous fingers occupied.

Azriel had made good on his promise to bring you every pastry and sweet from Velaris, never arriving at the temple without carrying something delicious within his shadows. Today he brought you various cookies of different shapes, sizes and flavors. They were all delicious, their rich taste blooming in your mouth when you bit into them, but it seems he overestimates just how much you can eat, especially since he barely helps you at all - you swear you've only seen him eat one singular cookie since you opened this box.

“It sounds like you're just saying that to make me feel better.” You shake your head in denial, you really weren't, but he continues before you can say anything else. “Us Illyrians take a lot of pride in our flying abilities, you know? I'm not sure I can let this go so easily.” The teasing smile that blooms on his face is completely mesmerizing, it almost makes you forget yourself. “You'll have to let me show you.”

It takes you a moment too long to process his words, your silver eyes too caught up on his inviting lips to pay any attention to what he said. You'd like to blame these moments where your thoughts stray when you look at Azriel on the bond, but you're not so sure it was all its doing. If he notices he doesn't let it show, allowing you to meet his eyes again like nothing had happened.

“You want to take me flying?”

“If you let me,” he murmurs softly. The excitement written in his eyes was contagious, and if you didn't know any better you'd say he had been waiting on a chance to ask you.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of the possibility ever since you first laid eyes on Azriel. You had never seen a winged fae before so flying always seemed like a childish dream, but now you couldn't help feeling a hint of wistfulness every time you saw him land swiftly on top of the steps. Who wouldn't want to fly? The thought of the wind caressing your skin as you cut through the clouds sounded heavenly, not to mention Azriel's arms wrapped around you as he held you against him. The thought summons warmth to your chest, and lower.

“I'd like that,” you say, “but I'm not sure if it will work because of my oath. We would not be able to go far.”

“Around the temple should be fine, right?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“It's a promise then,” he smiles brightly down at you. “Next time I'll take you flying. I would take you right now but it's still raining.”

“Do you know when the next time will be?”

The words escape you before your brain catches up to them. The way his smile falters, and some of his shadows rush to him from where they had been lazily swirling around the library makes you want to take them back immediately. You know they do that when he's upset or sad, something you rarely see when he comes to the temple. The thought that you were the one to make him so makes you want to rip out your heart and beg for his forgiveness.

“I'm only curious. I didn't mean anything by it,” you rush to explain, the last thing you wanted was for him to think you blamed him, or expected more of him. Azriel had been nothing short of perfect and understanding given your limitations.

“I would come every day if I could.”

“I know, Azriel.” You can hear the longing in his voice, filtering in through the bond as well, even if he tries to hide it. “I would go to you if I could too.”

Thankfully this brings the smile back to his lips, even if still somewhat overshadowed by the reality of your relationship. You've noticed Azriel has a hard time believing he's wanted, and you probably only make it worse since you have not accepted the bond.

“I'm not sure when the next time will be. I should be free in a couple of days, but if Rhys and Feyre need me in the meantime it might be longer, and I don't want to keep your hopes up if I might not be able to show up after all,” he explains as he reaches out for your hand tentatively, holding it delicately in his as his thumb starts drawing circles over your open palm, sending a tingling feeling shooting up your arm and straight to your chest. Shouldn't you be the one comforting him?

“I'll be here waiting either way, Azriel. I don't want you to neglect your work because of me,” you say, squeezing his hand, holding it tighter in yours.

“I'm not. There's no immediate threats on the court so things have been relatively calm, and I think I've earned some time off for all the years I worked without it.” The two of you were similar in a lot of ways, how focused you could be on your work and loyal to your duty was one of them. “Rhys has been easier on me too,” he adds.

“Does he know?”

“Since the first night,” Azriel nods, “I tried to hide it but he saw right through me. I haven't told anyone else though.”

You frown softly as his words settle between you, biting your lip softly and hopefully hiding it before he notices. You didn't know how to feel about Azriel having to hide you from his family, having to sneak around whenever he visits you. The way your chest constricted as soon as the words left his mouth told you what the bond felt immediately though. Your eyes drop to your still intertwined hands, the sight making your heart flutter despite your inner turmoil.

A mating bond was an extremely rare and beautiful thing, something you would be proud to tell your friends and family all about, the whole world even, but you can't blame him for not telling them anything when there's no guarantee this will work, when you made it clear from the first day that you didn't think it would work. All he had to do was explain the situation for the expected congratulations and joyous smiles to turn into pity and sympathetic words instead.

“I'm sorry.”

Now it was Azriel's turn to frown, leaning closer to you and squeezing your hand, trying to meet your eyes as you focused on his hand, on the shimmering silver string that kept you eternally bound to each other.

“What are you sorry for?”

“It's my fault you have to hide it.”

“Of course not-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, tugging on his hand. You were tired of him making excuses for you, of acting like nothing was wrong. If his mate were anyone else, he would have probably at least started dating them regularly by now, might have even already accepted the bond.

“I need you to know,” you look up at him, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with every word even when it becomes too much to bear, “if it weren't for the oath I made and if I could leave the temple, if we could live a normal life, I would accept the bond in a heartbeat.”

You can't quite read the expression that falls over his face, and your nerves are making it impossible to keep a cool head. As the silence stretches on, his hand frozen in yours and his hazel eyes staring right into your soul with unwavering intensity, your heart starts beating extremely loud, pouding at your eardrums as the thought that you said the wrong thing invades your mind.

“Azriel-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Please,” he breathes out, a desperately needy sound coming from deep in his chest. Scarred hands come up to hold your cheeks as he leans down, touching his forehead to yours, hazel eyes closing. “I really want to kiss you.”

You're unsure why he thought you could ever deny him such a request. Leaning in the rest of the way, your lips find his in a soft kiss before you lose your courage. It had been entirely too long since you've felt someone's lips on yours and the fact that it was Azriel, your mate, only made the fire starting inside you burn brighter.

A moan crawls up your throat before you even have a chance to think to keep it down. Azriel swallows it gladly, offering you a deep, satisfied groan of his own as the kiss turns more desperate. All the want you've both tried to keep locked away rising up uninterrupted as teeth and tongues clash, your hands tugging at his soft hair while his fall to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You have no idea how long you're tangled up in each other, the world falling silent while his hands roam your body, but by the time your mind finally clears and you manage to get a grasp on your instincts and on the bond, you find yourself straddling his lap, your dress pushed up to your hips and his shirt half unbuttoned.

Your entire body was glued to him. You could feel every breath he took, the low purring in his chest rumbling against yours, and the evidence of just how much he wanted you pressing against your core. It's as if you had been trying to crawl under his skin, maybe you were, it's not like that would be enough.

Even as you pull apart, chests rising and falling together as you catch your breaths, you don't move away from him, your eyes still closed as you keep your foreheads pressed together. You think it might be impossible to, just the thought makes you want to chain yourself to him, the bond making it difficult to even think at how adamant it is on you keeping your mate as close as possible.

Azriel seems to be of the same mind as he lets out a soft groan, strong arms tightening around you, the sweet pressure pushing an embarrassingly needy and breathy moan past your lips. He leans into your neck, a shiver running through his body as he takes in your scent, the way it deepened with arousal and mixes in with his sending his mind into a frenzy the same way it does yours. If anyone were to walk into this room, they wouldn't be able to tell them apart at all, there wouldn't be any doubts that you were his.

You feel him drop an otherwise chaste kiss to the overheated and sensitive skin of your neck, the way his body tenses at the harsh breath you take in telling you he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it instead. With how out of practice and needy you are at this moment, you think you'd come undone on his lap if he did, the thought sobering you somewhat.

Calling his name softly, surprised by how breathy and undeniably affected your own voice is, you wait for him to gather his own thoughts, abandoning your neck reluctantly, his half-lidded and blown out hazel eyes meeting yours. You know mating bonds are a lot harder to manage for the males so you can't even imagine what is going through his mind, how hard he has to hold himself back from claiming you as his own when you're soaked and pliable on top of him.

Even though you were the one who called his name, you find yourself at a loss for words in the face of his desire. You don't want to tell him to stop and you don't want to move away from him, but you have to, you both know that. And so you kiss him again instead, softly, apologetically.

[asdfghjklartblog]

My Time

Trans masc reader x yandere batfam

I’ve been getting into vocaloid songs, or like songs that use Teto and Miku’s voices. Anyways since I used to be really into Miku I wanted to use that cause well… What kind of person doesn’t love Miku?

I hope you guys like it. I think there’s some spelling mistakes or typos and if there is, sorry :P but otherwise I don’t got much to say! Good reading! It’s about 5.8k words! Yay!

Your mother, m/n was a beautiful woman. Strong, charming, and stubborn, at least that’s what your daddy said. And you might not remember mommy, but you trust daddy. He says that mommy loved you, that she loved you so much, but that she couldn’t come back. You didn’t really understand, not at the time. I mean how could a two-year-old grapple with the concept of death? However, even though your mom left, you weren’t lonely, you had daddy. Daddy wasn’t your real father, no, but he’s the one that’s been loving you and taking care of you. He’s the one that told you stories when you went to bed, tucked you in and kissed you good night. He held you when you were scared, cuddled you when you wanted love. He was everything you could ever want, he promised to stay with you till you got sick of him. He promised he’d be there for you no matter what.

You woke up for your first day of preschool, and when you go to look at your little froggy clock you saw that it was already 9 in the morning. You ran over to your daddy’s room excitedly chattering about how you were going to be late because of him which makes you giggle, because usually daddy would chastise and tease you about making them late. You open the door to find him still, there’s stab wounds all over his chest and dried blood all over the bed, his eyes are dull and lifeless and there’s bruises at his neck and wrists.

You shiver as a breeze comes through the open window. You stand there for a while, confused on what to do. There’s this bad feeling in your stomach but despite that you slowly approach the bed. You poke your dad and try to wake him up, you notice that he’s cold, daddy’s never cold. He’s always warm and comforting and perfect for cuddles. You start crying, not really knowing why. You climb up on the bed and curl up beside him. The sheets are crusty with blood and it feels all gross and but that doesn’t really matter to you right now. You just want to stay here with daddy.

You don’t know how long you’re there but at some point daddy’s phone rings. You stare at it, frozen in place before you climb down from the bed and go over to it. You pick up the phone and a woman says. “Hello! This is Thierry Preschool, we were wondering if your child y/n was still coming? It’s been about two hours since it started and we were just checking.”

You don’t know what to say to her. You fidget a bit before mumbling. “H-Hello. Daddy can’t come to the phone right now. Um. I’m scared. Daddy isn’t moving and there’s blood all over? That’s bad, right? Daddy’s cold and everything and -and I don’t know what to do!”

You start sniffling, on the verge of crying again as the person on the other line stays silent. She then gently and calmly says. “Honey, it’s going to be okay. Can you tell me where you live honey? Calm down and watch some TV or read a book, okay honey? Can you do that for me? Can you be strong for me?”

You sniffle and nod trying to get out a choked up “Yeah.” From your throat. You try your best to mumble out an address as she coos about how good of a job you’re doing and how she needs you to stay calm. Before she hangs up, she tells you that some nice men will come to pick you up and that you have to be good for them. You nod and mumble an okay. You go back to curl up against your daddy, you bury your face into his chest and whisper to him.

“People are coming. It’s okay daddy. We’ll be okay. I love you. You’ll wake up soon right? Please? I’ll be a good girl daddy I promise.”

The nice men come and they look at you and daddy with… An expression you’ve never seen before. It makes you feel worse. They try to tear you away from him but you hold onto daddy with a death grip while you scream and shout as they try to convince you to let go. You’re scared. You don’t wanna let him go. They eventually pry you away from him as you wail and try your best to wriggle out of their hold. After that, it’s a bit of a blur. You were wrangled into a police car as one of them sat in the backseat with you trying to calm you down.

You look out the window, watching as the officer drives through the streets, going through traffic. You’re escorted into a building and taken into a room where a police officer try to question you gently. However the next thing you know everything gets blurry, it’s hard to breathe and it feels like your insides are spiky. When you can breathe again some man with a scruffy face and blocky glasses is holding you close to his chest saying things like. “It’s okay, you’re alright.” And “Breathe, breathe for me.” You calm down, not because of his words, but because he looks a bit like dad. His scruffy face, his gentle smile, his dark green eyes. It makes you bury your face into the man’s chest and whisper out a small broken. “Don’t leave me.”

The next thing you can remember was the man carrying you around like a baby, mostly because even after the weird “panic attack” or whatever the police officer called it, you wouldn’t let go of him. Which made the man holding you look at you sadly. He gives in and instead of forcing you to let go and go back to doing work, he starts showing you all kinds of things, giving you a tour around the police station. You learn from one of the men that the guy holding you is named Commissioner Gordon. Weird name. It sounds kinda cool though.

Once you’ve fully calmed down he carries you over to where a nurse is and he distracts you by talking about dinosaurs which you excitedly listen to while they draw some blood to see if you’re healthy and to notify any blood relatives. Commie says you’re being a very good girl and that they’ll have results in less than an hour, he also asks if you’re hungry which you nod enthusiastically to. He then leaves to get you some chips and a donut from the break room. You’re about to start chowing down before Commie asks. “Hold on there kid, isn’t there something you need to say before eating?”

You stand there staring at him and then make an ‘Oh!’ face and say. “Thanks Commie!”

You don’t notice but as you start eating the donut that a couple of the police officers laugh while Commie cracks a smile and then huffs before saying. “Kid, Commissioner isn’t my first name. It’s Jim.”

You then absentmindedly say as you take another bite of the donut. “Oh. Okay Jimmy.”

One of the guards starts laughing again and this time even Jimmy chuckles. However someone comes in and whispers to Jimmy and he then turns back to the person as they whisper to each other. Another officer takes it upon himself to distract and picks you up before throwing you up into the air and catching you. Making you giggle and ask for more. Jimmy approaches again and he subtly asks the officer distracting you to put you down. Jimmy takes a knee looking at you at eye level and hesitates before saying. “We… Found some people you’re… Related to. We called them up and asked if they’d take you in, and he said yes. Do you know Bruce Wayne? He’s your daddy-“

You immediately interrupt him saying. “But I already have a daddy. I don’t need another one-“

Jimmy interrupts you trying to gently say. “I’m sorry. But.. Your daddy… He can’t take care of you anymore-“

“What do you mean? Why? Can’t you help him? I’ve been waiting and being a good girl! Does daddy not want me anymore?”

“Honey-“

“No! I’ve been good! Daddy said he’d stay with me! He promised, h-he-“

Jimmy interrupts with a firm call of your name which makes you stop. He puts a hand on your shoulder and brings you into a hug as he gently says to you. “I’m sorry. He’s gone.” As those words tumble out of his mouth you tear up again and you raise your arms to cling on to him for dear life. You bawl and hiccup and he’s there to take all of your anger, your sadness until you’ve calmed down again. He pulls away from you and tries to talk to you, but you’re tired. You’re sad, you don’t have the energy to talk. He sighs and then holds your hand and guides you to a bench, he pats your head and says. “How about you wait here? Since your room is not exactly under investigation I could maybe swipe some things for you? Do you have a favorite toy or picture I can get for you?”

You wait trying to think about what you would want from your room. You think of your little stuffed owl that daddy named Oliver and your stuffed cat you named Oliver 2. You want the picture on your nightstand of you, mommy and daddy. You want the special night light daddy made for you. You want your dinosaur pjs daddy got for your birthday, you try your best to relay this Jimmy but all that comes out are little mumbles and whimpers.

He sighs and says with a small smile. “Tell ya what kid, when you go stay with da- Bruce. Why don’t you have him send an email or make him call us about what you want from home. And I’ll get those things for you. How does that sound kid?”

You look up at him, slowly and you hesitantly nod. He ruffles your head and with a smile and says. “‘Atta girl!”

Which makes you smile a bit before your face going blank. He sighs at that and says. “Someone’ll be here to pick you up shortly. And-“

You hear someone running and turn to look where it’s coming from. You see some guy comes running and stops in front of you. He heaves as he holds something familiar under his arm. After he catches his breath he smiles at you before handing you the thing under his arm. A stuffed owl which you immediately recognize as Oliver. He winks at you and then crouches down to your height as he says.

“Hey kid, my name’s Ethan Bennett. Man, you are like a carbon copy of Bruce. Well, except for your eyes, yours are e/c and a lot softer. Shit, where do I even start. Uh, Oh! I’m your uncle, well, not your actual uncle but like, you can consider me as one. I’m a detective under Commissioner Gordon. I’m also your dad’s best friend, I’m not the one here to pick you up, I’m actually still on the clock but uh. This guy,” He says as he holds up Oliver with a smug smile. “Said that he needed to get to you. So I did him a favor. Just… Don’t tell anyone.”

You take Oliver from his hand and while Jimmy and Uncle Bennett argue you start to tear up again. You hug Oliver tight burying your face in his soft downy chest. Then looking up at Uncle Bennett, you quietly say. “Thank you.” Which he pauses the argument for, before smiling down at you. “You’re welcome, kid. Say how about I wait with you huh? I could show you pictures of your daddy-“

You immediately interrupt. “Not my daddy.”

Ethan looks a bit confused at that, and looks to Jimmy for an explanation. Jimmy shrugs and motions for Uncle Bennett to continue. “Should I call him your dad?”

You nod, confirming that dad is an acceptable choice of words. He chuckles and then continues. “How about I show you pictures of him. So we can.. Condition you to him like a cat.”

You see Jimmy smack Uncle Bennett’s bald head which makes you giggle as Uncle tries to defend himself saying. “What? It’s true! I mean, he’s a big guy, he’s probably gonna scare her. I mean unless you know him, he looks pretty scary. And look at her.”

Uncle says as he gestures to you with both hands. “She’s barely what 4? 5? She looks like a sad wet kitten, Bruce looks like that evil grey bird that looks like it eats puppies compared to her.”

You tilt your head at that. There’s an evil bird? Your father looks like a bird? What does that mean? Your uncle is weird maybe you can get a different one. Jimmy seems like he’d be a good uncle.

They start arguing again and you go back to sit on the bench as they argued. You hold Oliver tightly in your hands and wait, you see them stop arguing with both of them leaving you to wait alone. Or at least that’s what you thought would happen. Until uncle Bennett comes back with some files in hand and some markers and pencils in the other. He sits next to you and says. “Well, I couldn’t get out of work early, but he never said I couldn’t work while I waited with you.”

You smile at him and scooch closer to him as he chuckles. And so the two of you wait. And wait. And wait some more. By 5 you then see an man that looks kinda like a butler being escorted by an officer. You tug on uncle Bennet’s dress shirt before asking. “What do you think he’s in for?”

He looks at you confused before looking up, you see his eyes widen and he starts to burst into laughter. Both the officer and fancy man look confused, and well, so are you.

Your eyes meet with the fancy man’s and his eyes widen and his pupils shrink in shock. He then schools his expression and looks at you with a smile, you shift in your seat feeling a bit uncomfortable with the look in his eyes. The fancy man walks up to you and crouches to your level, he then gently says to you.

“Hello. You must be y/n. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I’m the butler for the Wayne family. I apologize but your father is not able to pick you up since-“

“What? Alfred what do you mean-“

Then Alfred and uncle Bennett starts talking and kinda arguing. You couldn’t care less though, you have Oliver now! You smile and nuzzle into Oliver’s fluffy chest and then squeeze the little speaker in its wing which plays a recording of your daddy humming his lullaby and then saying. “I love you my little Bubo.” You hold it closer and whisper into its fur. “I love you too daddy.” You hear uncle Bennett’s and Alfred’s argument start to quiet down and you catch uncle saying.

“-how he treats his other kid? Look, even if there was an emergency-“

Alfred sighs as he replies. “No, he does not treat master Dick like this, look. I’m not going to make excuses for him. Master Bruce had his phone on silent for a meeting and so he wasn’t able to answer, then there was Penguin who tried to steal some kind of tech there and you know how they have to follow protocol and whatnot-“

You sigh and look up at Alfred while tugging at his pant leg. They both look down at you and you just ask. “I’m tired. And hungry. I wanna go home. Can you take me home?”

They both look at each other nervously and Alfred takes a breath and says. “I apologize Miss y/n. But, you cannot go home. I understand this is hard for you, and you don’t understand what’s going on. But I, your father and your brother will take care of you. You have my word.”

You want to argue, you wanna fight and yell and say the bad words that your daddy says by accident sometimes. But you’re so small, well, at least you feel small. You’ve never felt this small, well you have, but daddy was there to hug and comfort you. As you look at Alfred, you wish something, anything would just leave your math. Instead all you can say is. “Okay. But I want warm honeyed milk and a bed time story.”

Alfred chuckles at that and nods. You don’t understand why is he laughing, You are completely serious, if you do not have your drink you will throw a tantrum. It’s the least this mysterious man can do after saying that. Alfred, then follows Ethan to go get the paperwork to take you out of the police station and to claim legal rights over you. Meanwhile you tell Oliver about your day, about the scary things that happened. You look at Oliver’s beady eyes and whisper. “I hope my dad likes me. Daddy says I’m a good girl so they’ll like me, I know they will. And even if they don’t, daddy says that some people are just stupid and dumb and don’t deserve to be your friends.”

Alfred comes back with a thick folder of paperwork which you frown at, you don’t like paper. It makes the people you like busy, specifically daddy. You hate when daddy has paperwork. You then look up to Alfred and tug on his pant leg as you whisper up to him. “Do you hate paperwork too?”

He raises an eyebrow at you with a little smile on his face, he takes your hand and starts to lead you out of the police station as you two start to converse. You talk to him about anything that comes to mind. From what you think of paperwork to which Hercules beetle you love the most, to how you peed your pants at the aquarium while you were out in the play area. Alfred had to contain his laughter as you described all of the kids started crying, including you. Finally you arrive at this big building and you look up at it in awe, you then look around at the courtyard and the scary but pretty style of the building. You look up to Alfred and say. “This is like, a bajillion times bigger than my home!”

Before Alfred can stop you, you start running off to the front door giggling and squealing as Alfred tries to catch you. After a few minutes of expertly dodging and wiggling out of his hold like some slippery snake. He catches you and then throws you under his arm which you make a little ‘oof’ sound at.

Alfred then takes you through the foyer and after going through some hallways, which you don’t keep track of, you get to the kitchen. He sits you down at a stool by the kitchen island and says. “Don’t go running off miss y/n we wouldn’t want you to get lost after all.” You sigh and then nod before you stretch and yawn.

Someone comes into the kitchen and says. “Hello Alfred, who’s the kid?” You look at the person talking and see a guy that looks around Alfred’s age and a some teenager following behind him. You try to get off from the stool, now bored out of your mind as Alfred talks to the other man while the teen notices you and goes over to help. He takes you off the stool and says. “What’s your name?”

You look at him dead in the eyes and then slap his thigh and say. “Tag!” You start booking it as you giggle, your game of tag now in session. The teen looks at you with wide eyes and starts to chase after you. Realizing that it was a mistake putting you on the ground. You go into a room and find that it’s a bedroom, you giggle as you put a pillow under the covers to trick the boy and then get under the bed.

He comes rushing in saying. “Hey, this isn’t funny. Come on, if you come out I’ll… uh, get Alfred to make you cookies? I don’t know. Uh, just come out. I’d rather not have Mr. Wayne or my dad scold me about letting some kid loose in the manor.”

He then sees the trap you laid out for him and as soon as he gets close to the bed you shoot your hands out to grab at his ankles, which makes him scream like a girl and practically jump away like some spider or grasshopper. You start giggling maniacally as he falls on to his butt. You then come out from under the bed as you say. “I got you!” In a sing songy voice as you sit next to him. The teen sighs and stands up, he dusts himself off and says. “Yeah you got-“ and then ambushes you by picking you up from your armpits and says. “Hah! In your face!”

You giggle some more as you whine “No” trying to wiggle out of the teen’s hold. After you calm down you look up at him and ask. “Hi! What’s your name?”

He replies with a small smirk saying. “I’m Luke Fox. And you? What’s your name you little rascal?”

You grin widely, like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland and say. “Y/n! And my last name is l/n! Nice to meet you!”

He smiles back and then holds you to his chest and starts to walk back to the kitchen as he says. “So… Bruce Wayne’s kid huh? I can tell. You look a lot like him. A lot smaller and cuter, but still.”

Your mischievous smile disappears and you instead, bury your face into his chest as you reply. “Yeah. Uncle Bennett said that too. I don’t care, I just want my daddy back.”

Luke looks at you a bit confused and then you explain to him what happened today. All the way from the moment you woke up to just right now. At some point during your retelling of the accounts of today, he stops walking leaving you two just standing in the middle of some hallway. After you finished he looks at you with the same expression those police officers that found you had, the same sad expression that Jimmy and Uncle tried to hide as well. You don’t like how it feels to be looked at like this. It makes your chest kinda heavy and your stomach weird. Luke holds you closer, staying silent for a bit before saying. “My mom makes me this really bomb ass hot cho- Shit I said a- Dammit! Fuck!”

When Luke groans at himself for cussing in front of a literal child you start to giggle. You smile and then tap his shoulder before whispering into his ear. “Daddy swears a lot too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Pinky swear!” As she raises her hand and pinky so they can swear on it together.

He chuckles and pinky swears with you, not long after you two enter the kitchen, with you still in his arms. You see that neither the man or Alfred noticed you or Luke were gone. You couldn’t care less however. At least you made your first friend. You then see someone else some into the kitchen, he’s tall and… Wow. He really does look like you. You wriggle in Luke’s arms, telling him to let you down. Meanwhile Bruce, the person people keep talking about, your supposed father, walks past you and Luke. His focus is on Alfred and Luke’s dad, Luke finally lets you down after teasing you a bit more and you slowly walk over to Bruce. You stare at his face as he talks to the other two men, he had the same spiky eyebrows as you. You’ve never seen someone with the same eyebrows as you.

You shift nervously before patting your clothes and hair down before tugging on his pant leg. You look up at him with a small hopeful smile. Bruce looks down at you and his eyes widen impossibly before he schools his face before giving you a smile, he opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt. “Hello! I am y/n l/n. We look alike! I like your eyes. They look like how mint tastes. Why are you so big? Will I get that big? Do you think I’ll be taller than you?”

He looks at you strangely, a bit surprised and a bit… Something else? Whatever it is it makes you kinda feel bad and you don’t like that. You fidget as he turns his attention towards Luke’s dad and Alfred. Talking about something else again. You look back at Luke and he looks a bit confused and slightly agitated, he then fixes his face and smiles at you before walking over and saying. “He’s probably just tired or something. How about I make something for you? Sandwich maybe?”

You nod and follow him to the fridge as you look through everything. He shows you some some sandwich ingredients taking the time to show you each one and answering your questions about it. He then makes the sandwich for you, although he’s slightly cringing as you bite into your “abomination sandwich”. Which is what he called your delicious sandwich, and is definitely NOT an abomination. You’re eating at the little island on the stool that’s as big as you and you see another kid walk in. He has black hair and pretty blue eyes, you wave hi and he looks at you confused and a bit judgmental. The kid then asks you. “Who are you?”

You answer back. “Y/n. What’s your name?”

“None of your business.” He replies in a snarky tone.

You look at him, surprised and then glare at him, before you can snap back Luke says. “That’s Dick. He’s gonna be your brother. Kinda. Also, come on Dick. Be nicer.”

Dick huffs and and grumbles “Fine.” before he goes over to the fridge to look through it. He gasp, offended by something. He then glares at you and asks. “Did you finish all the prosciutto? I was gonna have that as a snack, I was saving it for a good day!”

Before Luke can apologize for you, you look at Dick and say. “Well maybe you should’ve had a note on it or something! This is my first day here! I don’t know you people!”

Dick looks you up and down and then marches up to where you’re sitting and nabs half of your sandwich and takes a bite, it only takes a moment before he’s sputtering and coughing because of the overly salty and spicy sandwich. You look on with both anger and slight satisfaction, angry he stole your sandwich and satisfied that he’s in pain. Luke tries to hide a smile as he turns away and hides his trembling mouth with his hand.

The adults then turn to look at you three, wondering what the commotion is. Alfred sighs and goes over to try and calm down Dick while Bruce looks at you disapprovingly. You look at Bruce, offended and stick your tongue and blow a raspberry at him before going back to your sandwich, tearing into the sandwich like you were a hyena and the sandwich was your carcass. Luke chuckles at that before saying. “Come on, don’t be mean. He’s only had Dick for what? Less than a month?”

You look at Luke with appalled face and say. “He isn’t even a real dad?!”

Bruce sighs as he looks down and asks Alfred. “So? What’s the situation with her? And have you-“

You can see Luke looks at Bruce with a weird face, something like a cross of disappointment and disgust before turning to you, and using his body to cover your view of almost everyone in the room. He then says. “Hey, how about we go to the living room? I’ll take you there. We could watch a movie or something? Oh, my dad showed me this movie called Totoro. Or something, you look like you’d live it! Let’s see if I can-“

He starts talking idly, as if to fill in space. When your finished with your sandwich he takes you off the chair and hurriedly walks you out of the kitchen and into the living room. He has you sit close to him so you two could watch it on his phone. You barely get through the first half before his dad comes over to say. “Come on, Luke. It’s time for us to go.” Luke tries to ask for a bit more time. He nudges your shoulder and whispers. “Hey, do some puppy eyes come on.”

What the hell are puppy eyes, you think to yourself before tilting your head at him like a puppy. Luke’s dad rolls his eyes with an affectionate look on his face before saying. “It’s a school night kid. Plus, your mom would kill me if I let you stay out past curfew again.”

Luke throws his head back groans dramatically before saying. “All my other friends can stay out past 8-“

“Well I’m not their parents am I? I’m yours. Now I’ll be waiting in the car for you.” Luke’s dad then turns to you and ruffles your hair before saying. “It was nice to meet you little one. Have a good night.”

You nod at him, and the man nods back before going over to the coatrack, getting his coat and leaving. Luke looks at you with a small pout on his face he sighs before ruffling your hair too, which makes you smile. He then gets up with a groan, just like daddy does. You follow as he also goes to get his coat and hat he then puts on his stuff and says. “Guess I gotta go… Have a goodnight y/n. Take care of yourself.”

He then gives you a hug before leaving. You yell after him. “Good night Luke! Sleep well!”

He smiles at that and waves at you before getting into his dad’s car, driving off and leaving you in the manor. You go back inside and go back to the living area where you see Alfred. You walk up to him and tilt your head like a curious puppy, waiting for him to announce his intentions. Alfred smiles before he says. “I came to inform you that I have gotten your room ready. On another note, it is time for you to go to bed young lady.”

You put up a hand and in a serious tone of voice you say. “No. You must have forgotten our deal. I want a hot chocolate, a fancy one with cinnamon, heavy cream.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow and asks. “Really? If I recall our agreement was that I’d make you honeyed milk. How strange. I suppose I should get rid of the honeyed milk that I put in your room then?”

You vehemently shake your head and say. “N-No! That’s fine! I’ll drink it! It’s mine! You can’t take it back!”

Alfred then lets out a hum of consideration. “If you say so. Now come along. I must tuck you in before the hour.”

This man speaks funny. You like it. You then try to imitate him using the fanciest words you know, like anemone and hypertension. He laughs but you’re not sure whether it’s because of the accent or because you probably used the words wrong. Anyways he brings you to your new room and you gasp at how big it is, you hurriedly take off your shoes and put them right next to the door before you run straight for the bed and climb on to it, it’s so soft!

You then notice the hot milk on the bedside table, you crawl over and sit on the edge of the bed so you can take a sip. You sigh in delight at the taste, the milk is nice and creamy with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon as well as some honey to make it sweet. You yawn and get off the bed so you can walk over to Alfred. “Thank you, it’s really yummy. Can I have some pajamas now? I’m sleepy and so is Oliver-“

You then realize that you don’t have Oliver in your arms, and you can’t remember where you put him. Your eyes become blurry as tears fill your vision, you look up at Alfred and whine. “Where’s Oliver? I can’t remember where he is.. Can you help me find him?”

Alfred opens his mouth to say something but a beep comes from his phone, he sighs and says. “I will bring him soon, just lie down and-“

You interrupt him saying. “No! He’s always there when I sleep! I need him, if my daddy isn’t gonna be here then I need Oliver to be here at least!” You don’t like how Alfred is trying to hurry things up. You don’t like that daddy’s not here, you don’t like how Oliver’s not here, you hate that your favorite people are leaving and you HATE everything about this day. Sure you met new and nice people, but you want Daddy. You want him to kiss your face and tickle your tummy and hug you. You start sobbing and pulling on your h/c hair and trying your best to not choke on air.

Alfred looks at you sadly and then sighs, he then gets on one knee and says. “Miss y/n. Please stop. I will get Oliver for you, I will be right back. I promise. I will return with your dear Oliver and some old pajamas.”

You look back at him and nod as you sniffle. You sit on your bed and sip on your warm milk while Alfred leaves to go get Oliver and some pajamas. You wait, and wait. and wait some more. But he never comes. You accidentally fall asleep, finished with your drink and more tired than you’ve ever felt. That’s when you realized, no one’s gonna take care of you like daddy, no one’s gonna tuck you in, kiss your tears away, or any of the other things he used to do. You curl up and cry softly in the early morning light, mourning the loss of your father. Something that you didn’t know was possible until it happened.

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I hope you like it! I already have the next few chapters planned so it will be angst for the next 3 or 4 chapters :)))

[86espresso]

CONGRATULATIONS! Could I please have:

crashing their date with another person purposely

^ and it all was definitely out of spite. not because they were jealous. never. totally not.

with Quinn Hughes please!

thank you so much!! and ty for requesting <3

There is not one person on god’s green earth who makes your eye twitch more than Quinn Hughes.

The only tie you have to him is being his coach’s daughter, which means you’re not supposed to see each other a lot, but you have to because you live in the same building.

On the same floor. Across from each other.

It’s been snarky remarks and banging on each other’s doors with noise complaints ever since.

You would think he’d respect you because of who your father was to him, but no. He just couldn’t stand you the same way you couldn’t stand him.

Your day was going smoothly; you got off work, came home and took a nice bath, and got ready for your date. He seemed like a lovely guy and things were going well.

You checked the time to see that you were late and hurriedly shoved your necessities in your purse and speed walked out of your apartment, quickly stopping in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You fumbled with the keys while locking your door, breathing out in relief when you heard the lock click.

The elevator doors opened up to reveal Quinn. His hair was damp and falling onto his forehead, his black shirt stuck to him in the right places, and his gym shorts were short. As fuck.

He gave you a sideways once-over, taking in your appearance without shame as he walked out of the elevator. “Nice kicks.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking down at your stilettos. “Thanks?”

He laughs as he walks away and the doors close, and it should feel ridiculing, but a weird part of you was convinced that he tried to give you a compliment.

Key word: tried.

[•••]

The date was going fine. It wasn’t great, since he was a little cold with you because you were five minutes late, but it got better as he had a few glasses of wine.

“What a coincidence.” Your eyes bulged out of your head when you heard Quinn’s all-too-cheery tone. Both yours and your date’s eyes traveled to Quinn, who materialized in del t of your booth.

“Quinn, what the actual fuck are you—”

“I was hoping to catch you somewhere around here, you left too early y’know.” He fakes a pout.

“What is he talking about?” Your date directs the question at you.

“Yes, Quinn, enlighten us, please.” You glared daggers into his unfazed eyes.

“Nah, that’s not important. What is, though,” he pauses to pull something out of his pocket, “is this.”

Your jaw drops as he pulls out one of your rings from his pocket. You must’ve dropped it during your rush to leave.

And just when you thought it wouldn’t get worse, “you left it at my apartment, thought you’d want it back.” He laid it in front of you as your date’s face slowly contorted to anger and he slammed his napkin down on his plate.

“Listen—” you start. Your date holds his hand up.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Quinn watches triumphantly as he stomps out of the restaurant like a child. You put your head in your hands. “It gets to a point, Quinn.”

He shrugs and flops down to where your date just sat, picks up a breadstick and takes a bite. “Damn, these are good,” he swallows, “and I saved you by the way. He had bad juju or negative aura or whatever the kids say these days.” Another bite. You feel it. The undeniable twitch of your eye.

You see his point, though. The man made you feel lesser than for being a few minutes late and was quick to storm out without giving you the chance to explain yourself.

“That still doesn’t mean you can just crash my date, Quinn— how did you even find me?”

“I followed you after I found your ring.”

“You’re so—” you sigh, unable to find the words.

There’s a beat of silence.

You groan loudly, all of a sudden, startling Quinn and making him pause mid dip. “What?”

“I’ll have to pay for all of this.” You gesture at the food in front of you.

Quinn waves his hand once. “Nah. I got it.” You’re confused for the second time that night, your mouth open but no words coming out. “What kind of guy takes someone to Olive Garden for a date, anyway?”

“The kind that’s classy enough to not compliment me with ‘nice kicks’.” You smirk, leaning back and crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes. “Be grateful, being nice to you for free is painful.”

You laugh for the first time that night, slipping your ring on your finger.

“You do look pretty nice, though.”

[prettylilyanime]

Our Blessing ♡ Chapter 01

♡ Pairing: Toji Zenin x reader

♡ Synopsis: in which your ex boyfriend left you with your biggest blessing in life, or- a bundle of a blessing. And he doesn’t even know it.

♡ tags/warnings: 18+, (explicit content in later chapters) angst, and drama, exes to lovers, hidden baby trope, Toji is an asshole (but we love him), Reader just wants to raise Megumi in peace, CEO Toji, possessive Toji, emotionally constipated Toji, Tension, misunderstandings, Flashbacks to past relationship, Heavy themes of abandonment, trust issues, and redemption, baby Megumi is a cutie, Megumi is a mama’s boy, reader works at a flower shop, Hidden Baby Trope

♡ Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

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Your apartment is quiet when you step inside, the familiar scent of lavender and something faintly sweet—maybe the remnants of the candle you blew out this morning—wrapping around you like a blanket.

It’s small, but warm, filled with little touches of comfort: thick knit blankets draped over the couch, a few potted plants thriving near the window, the soft glow of afternoon light spilling through sheer curtains.

The tension in your shoulders eases, if only slightly.

Megumi trails behind you, rubbing at his eyes with tiny fists, the weight of a full belly and the lull of the afternoon already making him drowsy. You bend down, gently guiding him toward his bedroom.

Megumi’s room is as cozy as the rest of the apartment—small but carefully put together, a space filled with warmth and the little things that bring him comfort.

“Let’s get you ready for a nap, honey.” Your voice is quiet, soothing, and the small smile on your lips is all the encouragement Megumi needs. Without complaint, he toddles over to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer where his pajamas sit neatly folded.

You crouch beside him, running a hand over his soft hair before holding up two options. “Which one do you want today?”

He barely hesitates before tapping the set covered in tiny black and white puppies on a blue fabric. His favorite.

A warm shower later, he’s clean and bundled up in his pajamas, the scent of lavender baby shampoo still clinging to him. By the time you carry him to bed, his head is already lolling against your shoulder, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt.

You pull back the covers, lowering him gently onto the mattress.

He flops onto the pillows with a contented sigh, blinking up at you with heavy eyelids as you tuck the blankets around him. His hair is still damp, and you smooth it back with gentle fingers, savoring the quiet moment.

Then his little brows furrow.

“Mama,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “That guy looked weird.”

Your stomach clenches. You hesitate, already suspecting exactly who he means.

“What guy, baby?”

“The one with the white hair.” Megumi yawns, wiggling deeper into his pillow. “He looked funny.”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to keep your expression light, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Mm, some people just look different, sweetheart. Now close your eyes, okay?”

You wish you could laugh, really. Because of course Megumi thinks Satoru looked weird.

Your son—sweet, thoughtful, but undeniably blunt—had inherited an unshakable judgmental streak from his father. And if that weren’t enough, well… Toji always gave Satoru shit for his hair too.

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face.

The sheer luck—no, the sheer misfortune—of almost running into them after all these years makes your stomach churn. The whole encounter had probably shaved a decade off your life!

You could still feel the phantom weight of anxiety pressing against your chest, the way your breath had hitched the moment you spotted them.

They hadn’t even looked in your direction, too preoccupied with ordering their takeout before rushing off, long strides carrying them away before you could even process what was happening. But the what-ifs claw at you now, twisting in your gut.

What if they had seen you? What if they had noticed Megumi?

A shiver runs down your spine, and you force yourself to exhale, slow and steady.

Megumi, at least, had been completely oblivious—munching on his pizza without a care in the world, kicking his little feet under the table like nothing was wrong.

Watching him had been the only thing grounding you in that moment, the only thing keeping you from spiraling into full-blown panic.

Because at the end of the day, he’s your world.

No, he doesn’t have a mountain of toys or the biggest bedroom, the kind of life he could’ve had if his father had been around, but what he does have is love. Endless, unconditional love. And that, you remind yourself, is what truly matters.

Your heartbeat slows as you watch him now, tucked into bed, his breathing even and deep. His little chest rises and falls under the soft weight of his blanket, long lashes fluttering once before settling.

He’s asleep. Safe.

Leaning over, you press a gentle kiss to his chubby cheek, lingering just a second longer than usual. Then, with slow, careful movements, you stand, turning off the main light and slipping out of the room, pulling the door closed behind you.

The moment you’re alone in the quiet of your living room, it finally hits you.

Satoru and Suguru. After all these years... really?

You stand there for a long minute, your thoughts racing.

What if they had noticed you and Megumi but just chose not to say anything?

No, impossible. If there was one thing you knew for sure about Satoru Gojo, it was that he was a blabbermouth.

If he’d recognized you, there was no way he wouldn’t have marched right up to you, a cocky grin in place, and demanded an explanation. Suguru, though—he always had more restraint, more control. He might’ve seen, might’ve pieced things together, and simply kept quiet.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the feeling creeping up your spine. Maybe a bath would help.

Determined to wash the tension from your body, you head to the bathroom, stepping into the small, shared space you and Megumi make do with. The clean white tiles are cool beneath your feet, and the soft grey bathtub sits at the end of the room, partially hidden by a shower curtain decorated with Megumi’s favorite cartoon characters.

You can’t help but smile a little as you take in the mess of bath toys still scattered around the tub—small rubber animals and plastic boats bobbing in the leftover water droplets from Megumi’s earlier bath.

It’s a familiar sight, a quiet reminder of the little life you’ve built together.

With practiced ease, you scoop them up, placing them into their designated basket before stepping back to take in the tiny, shared space. The bathroom is small but warm, the soft glow from the overhead light casting a golden hue against the clean white tiles.

Megumi’s favorite towel, a faded blue one with little stars along the edges, hangs neatly by the sink.

The air still carries the faintest trace of his shampoo, a gentle mix of lavender and chamomile that always seems to linger after bath time.

Your world truly revolves around this little boy. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Turning the faucet, the tub begins to fill, steam rising in delicate wisps as the water gushes down. The sound is soothing, steady, a white noise that drowns out the rest of your thoughts. You pull your clothes off slowly, the cool air prickling against your skin before you step in, letting the hot water swallow you whole.

A sigh slips from your lips as you sink lower, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease, the weight in your chest—though not gone—momentarily bearable.

Finally, finally, you can breathe.

Or at least act like you can.

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Time moves the way it always does—too fast when you want to savor it, too slow when you want to forget. Before you know it, the leaves in your neighborhood start to orange, the once stifling summer air turning crisp and cool.

And today—today is Megumi’s first day of kindergarten.

Much to your own embarrassment, your five-year-old is handling it with far more grace than you ever could.

You had stayed up late the night before, carefully ironing his tiny uniform—the crisp white academy polo and little navy shorts (that, to your horror, actually made you tear up a little).

You’d hung them neatly on his door, ready for the morning, and now here you are, holding him close, lingering longer than necessary as you send a sheepish smile to his teacher over his shoulder.

She returns it with understanding warmth, the kind that tells you she’s seen this a hundred times before—mothers reluctant to let go, children ready to run headfirst into something new.

“I’ll pick you up later, honey,” you murmur, smoothing his hair down even though it doesn’t need it. “Have fun, and eat your lunch, okay? Don’t just eat the brownie I put in there.”

“There’s a brownie?!” His wide-eyed excitement makes you want to laugh—and cry a little, too.

Oh, great.

You press a kiss to his forehead, inhaling the faint, familiar scent of his shampoo. Then, after taking a million pictures (all now safely stored in a newly created Megumi’s First Day! album on your phone), you finally let him go, watching as he disappears into a classroom filled with other pint-sized kids just beginning their lives.

And just like that, he’s off.

The commute to your storefront is quick, the gentle rocking of the train lulling you into a rare moment of peace. You spend the ride scrolling through all the pictures you took this morning, smiling to yourself.

God, he’s so cute. His backpack is almost bigger than him!

By the time you arrive, sliding your key into the glass door of your little shop, you find yourself slipping back into the rhythm of your usual day, letting the comfort of routine settle over you like a well-worn sweater.

For the first few weeks after seeing your former friends, paranoia sat heavy in your bones. Every knock at the door made your stomach twist, every unexpected phone call sent a jolt of nerves through your system.

You had half-convinced yourself that any day now, Satoru would show up with some smug grin and a stack of custody papers lined up on your kitchen table. (You realize you might be a little dramatic.)

But there’s been nothing. Silence. No sign of them.

It’s almost enough to lull you into a false sense of security.

Almost.

Because right now, standing in the quiet of your small shop, head down as you sweep away scattered bits of dust and stray plant clippings, the door swings open with a soft jingle of the bell.

You don’t think much of it at first, glancing up with a ready smile to greet whoever’s walked in—

Only for that smile to drop instantly.

Your grip tightens on the broom, fingers curling around the wooden handle as your breath catches.

Suguru Geto stands at the entrance.

The glass door swings shut behind him, sealing him inside your cozy, cramped little shop. And suddenly, the space that’s always felt like a safe haven—filled with soft greenery, shelves lined with ceramic pots, the faint scent of soil and fresh blooms—feels suffocatingly small.

He doesn’t step forward. Just stands there, tall and unmoving, his presence filling the entire room like a shadow stretching across the floor. He’s older, leaner, his dark hair longer than the last time you saw him.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

Then, finally—

“Hi, Y/N.”

His voice is steady, calm, like this is a normal conversation, like he hasn’t just ripped open a wound you were desperately trying to ignore.

You don’t answer. Your lips part slightly, brows furrowing as you stare at him in stunned silence.

Suguru exhales, glancing around the shop before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

You swallow, gripping the broom so hard your knuckles ache.

“I saw you the other day, a few weeks ago on my lunch break,” he continues, voice softer now, like he’s offering you a moment to process. “Satoru hadn’t noticed, but I did.”

Your stomach twists.

You knew it.

Your intuition had been screaming at you ever since that day, whispering that something felt off. That feeling of eyes lingering a second too long, the way your skin had prickled with unease. You had hoped you were just being paranoid. That maybe, just maybe, you had been lucky enough to slip away unnoticed.

But Suguru saw you.

And now, here he is.

“Oh.”

You want to laugh at yourself. Because oh? Really? That’s all you can come up with? Out of everything rushing through your mind—panic, anger, the crushing weight of memories—your grand response is oh?

Suguru’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for something more. An invitation. A reaction.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice quieter now, like he’s treading carefully. “I wouldn’t have come and bothered you if I hadn’t seen—I know we all broke communication on rough terms.”

Your heart twists violently in your chest.

We? We broke communication?

That’s almost funny. Almost.

Because you didn’t break a damn thing.

They did.

Toji did.

Suguru shifts slightly, exhaling as if trying to steel himself before continuing. “I just saw… the boy.”

The words hit you like a stone, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Your throat tightens, eyes instantly burning as you take a step back, as if physical distance will make this moment any less real.

"Don't tell Toji."

Suguru’s brows shoot up, stunned at how fast you react. “Y/N, are you joking?”

“No, are you joking?” You snap, heat rushing through your veins as your grip on the broom tightens. “You’re not about to walk into my life and ruin absolutely everything I’ve built in the last five years, are you serious?!”

He flinches slightly, but his stance remains firm. “Y/N, that’s his child too—”

Your vision blurs with fury, your breath coming short. You've always hated how easily your anger turns to tears, and now is no exception.

"Well, I thought so too," you spit, voice cracking, "And then after a year of begging and begging and looking like a fucking idiot to you people, I gave up. I gave up on Toji being a father."

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Suguru’s jaw clenches, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. Pity? Regret? Guilt?

You don’t care.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” he finally says, his voice level, steady, frustratingly calm. “I just—I saw you. I saw him. And I had to know.”

“Well, now you do.” Your voice is sharp, cutting. “So what now, huh? You gonna run off and tell him? Let Toji swoop in and play dad for five minutes before he disappears again?”

Suguru sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. "I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m not your enemy, Y/N.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “That’s funny. You sure felt like one when I was begging for help back then and none of you even looked at me."

Suguru flinches. Just barely. But you see it.

And for a brief second, you wonder—if you just stood there, silent, would he finally say what you've wanted to hear for years?

An apology? An explanation?

Something?

Suguru exhales, running a hand through his dark hair, fingers threading through the strands like he’s trying to ground himself. His hesitation is palpable, lingering in the charged air between you. Finally, he speaks.

“Toji doesn’t know. And I—” His voice falters, his expression shifting with something unreadable—guilt, regret, uncertainty. “I won’t be the one to tell him.”

Your breath catches.

You should feel relieved.

Should.

But instead, something inside you twists, sharp and aching, like fingers pressing into an old wound that never fully healed. The audacity of it—of him.

Does this motherfucker actually expect you to be the one to tell Toji?

Your fingers tighten around the broom handle, your knuckles whitening as you hold onto something, anything, to keep yourself from shaking.

“My son is happy.” The words come out steady, but there’s a rawness to them, an unspoken warning in the way they cut through the air.

“We’re okay on our own. I moved on with my life. And now you walk in here, acting like I’m supposed to be the good guy? Like it’s my responsibility to reach out to that man and tell him what he left behind?”

Suguru flinches. It’s barely there, just a flicker in his expression, but you catch it. And it’s enough to make your blood boil.

“If he cared—even a little, even in the smallest, most pathetic way—he would have called me back,” you continue, your voice tightening with every word.

“Just once. Not to fix anything, not to make promises—just to acknowledge me. To listen. To give a damn.”

Your breath is uneven now, your chest rising and falling a little too quickly.

The weight of it all—the years of silence, the gut-wrenching nights spent waiting by the phone, the way hope had rotted inside you until it was nothing but a husk—it presses against your ribs, suffocating.

“How long was I supposed to chase after him, huh? Forever?”

You scoff, shaking your head, exhaustion creeping into your voice. It feels like you’ve carried this pain for so long that it’s settled into your very bones, an ache that never quite dulls, no matter how much time has passed.

Suguru, to his credit, does look genuinely remorseful. His brows knit together, lips parting slightly like he wants to say something—to explain, to defend, to fix—but he doesn’t. Because he knows.

He knows there’s nothing he can say that would make up for the years of nothingness. The way you had to scrape yourself back together, piece by piece, until you could stand on your own again. The way you had to build a life without the person who swore he’d always be there.

Instead, Suguru just stands there, hands in his pockets, regret shadowing his face.

And somehow, that only makes you angrier.

It isn’t really his place to bear the brunt of your frustration, but hell, he’s the first and only person from your past to show up in five years.

And even though you know this anger is misplaced—that Suguru, despite everything, is not the one who truly shattered you—you can’t stop yourself.

Because he should be standing there. Not Suguru.

Toji.

Your first love. Your one true love.

The one who broke your heart in ways you don’t think you’ll ever recover from.

He’s the one who should be standing in front of you—drowning in guilt, burdened with regret, crushed under the weight of what he did. Not fucking Suguru.

You scoff, the bitterness settling like acid on your tongue. This entire conversation feels like a slow unraveling of wounds you’ve spent years stitching closed. And you’re tired—so tired.

“Suguru.” You exhale, gripping the broom just a little tighter, as if it might somehow keep you steady.

“I get why you’re here. He’s your friend, after all. And I appreciate you not telling him about my son. I really do.” Your voice stays level.

“But please… I’ve built a good life for myself. A nice life. I don’t need anybody affiliated with Toji coming back into it.”

The words hang between you, heavy and unmoving.

Suguru studies you for a long moment, and to his credit, he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t try to convince you otherwise or play devil’s advocate. Instead, he gives a slow, understanding nod, slipping a hand into his pocket.

“If you ever change your mind,” he says quietly, holding out a small, folded piece of paper.

You hesitate before taking it, the weight of it feeling much heavier than a simple scrap of paper should.

“It’s Toji’s new number.” His voice is unreadable, careful. “Whatever you decide to do… I’m sure it’ll be what’s best. For your son.”

You stare down at the numbers, scrawled in hurried, slanted writing.

Toji’s number.

A part of you wants to rip it in half right then and there, let the pieces fall to the floor like the remnants of the life you once had with him. But instead, you close your fingers around it, pressing the paper into your palm as if doing so will somehow keep your emotions in check.

“…Thanks,” you murmur, though you’re not sure why. Maybe because Suguru doesn’t deserve your anger. Maybe because, despite everything, he did come here.

Suguru gives you one last look—something almost unreadable in his dark eyes—before he exhales and steps back.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says simply.

You nod. You don’t stop him as he turns toward the door.

But even as the door swings shut behind him, even as the silence settles back in, the paper in your palm burns.

How has the day only just started?

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The hours blur together after Suguru leaves. You spend an embarrassing amount of time sitting in the back room of your shop, staring at that stupid piece of paper like it holds some kind of power over you.

It doesn’t.

It’s just a series of numbers.

Just a string of digits that you could crumple, toss, burn, and never think about again.

And yet…

You exhale sharply, shaking your head as you finally push yourself up from your chair. The day continues whether you like it or not, and soon enough, it’s time to pick up Megumi from school.

The crisp autumn air nips at your skin as you walk, the leaves swirling at your feet in shades of orange and gold.

The routine of it, the normalcy, helps ground you. By the time you’re home, the weight of that conversation—the lingering ache of Suguru’s words—is pushed into the back of your mind.

At least, for now.

Megumi is curled up on the couch, his small body swaddled in blankets as an old Scooby-Doo movie plays on the TV.

His dark hair is tousled from the wind, his little head resting comfortably on your lap. The scent of warm dinner still lingers in the air, mixing with the faint floral notes clinging to your clothes.

It’s peaceful.

This is the life you built. Simple, steady, good.

"Mama, school was lame,” Megumi suddenly grumbles, breaking the silence. He shifts slightly, turning up to look at you with those big, expressive green eyes. “Mrs. Ito asked me if I knew my colors and if I could count to ten. Do I look dumb to her?"

You bite down a laugh, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. "I'm glad you're advanced, Megumi, but some classmates are at different levels,” you remind him gently.

"But don't worry, you definitely look like the smartest boy to me."

He huffs, rolling his eyes in a way that’s so Toji it makes your chest tighten. But he doesn’t argue, just shifts a little closer, cheek smushing against your thigh as his slow, sleepy blinks return to the TV.

The evening passes quietly.

Megumi is full, warm, safe—his homework is done, his little body relaxed against yours, the glow of the screen casting soft shadows across the room. You let yourself sink into it, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the comfort of this moment.

Life is good. You are good.

So why is there a hollow ache sitting in your chest?

Why does your mind drift to him?

You thought you were past this. You thought you had moved on, buried all those feelings so deep they couldn’t possibly resurface.

You spent months—pregnant, alone, suffering—promising yourself that you would never let him have that power over you again! That you would never waste another second longing for someone who left you behind.

But now, now—all it takes is a name.

His name. A scrap of paper with his number scribbled in someone else’s handwriting. The knowledge that somewhere out there, he exists still.

And suddenly, just like that, he’s in your head again.

Would he be proud of Megumi for being one of the smartest kids in his class? Would Megumi curl up against him like this, the same way he always finds his way into your arms?

You inhale sharply, forcing the thoughts down before they can settle too deep.

It doesn’t matter.

It can’t matter.

Because Toji isn’t here.

And you’re not sure you could handle it if he ever came back.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty: Fractured Lines

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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Series Masterlist

The room felt emptier without him.

You sat still for a moment, staring at the closed door as if willing In-ho to come back, as if that soft click of the latch hadn’t been the final word in a conversation you weren’t sure how to continue.

But he wasn’t coming back—not yet, at least.

With a slow breath, you pushed yourself out of bed, feeling the ache in your muscles from the tension of the night before. The bathroom was dimly lit, the glow from the vanity lights casting soft shadows across the marble countertop. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, studying the way your face seemed different, like something had shifted inside of you overnight.

Maybe it had.

The Panther Mask was gone. And you knew better than to ask how.

The thought should have unsettled you more than it did. Instead, it felt like an unspoken answer to a question you hadn’t dared to voice. A reminder that In-ho wasn’t just the man who shared this space with you—he was something much more dangerous.

And yet, you weren’t afraid of him.

You turned on the faucet, splashing cool water onto your face, letting it ground you. The morning was already creeping in, and soon, the world outside this room would demand something from you. A performance. A role to play.

And you weren’t sure if you had the strength to play it today.

By the time you left the bedroom, the halls were already buzzing with quiet activity. Guards moved in disciplined formations, their masked faces unreadable as they passed by. The air smelled of something rich—breakfast, maybe—but you weren’t hungry.

You expected to find In-ho in his usual place: standing at the main observation deck, overseeing everything with that same unreadable expression. Instead, you found him where you least expected—alone, in the lounge.

He was seated on one of the leather chairs, one hand resting against his temple, his other gripping a steaming cup of coffee. His mask was back in place.

For a second, you considered walking away. Giving him the space he so clearly wanted. But instead, your feet carried you forward.

“In-ho,” you said, your voice careful, testing the distance between you.

He didn’t look up at first, just took a slow sip of his coffee before finally acknowledging you. “You’re awake.”

“You left.”

His fingers tensed around the cup. “There was work to do.”

You exhaled through your nose, stepping closer. “That’s not why you left.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

“I warned you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “That it’s better this way.”

Better for who? You wanted to ask. Instead, you crossed your arms. “You think shutting me out is some kind of protection?”

In-ho didn’t answer, but you could see it in the way his jaw tightened.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you pressed. “Letting me in one second and shutting me out the next.”

Still, no response.

Your frustration simmered. “I’m not afraid of you.”

At that, his gaze snapped up to meet yours, something sharp and unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You should be.”

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

The tension in the air was suffocating, charged with something unsaid, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

And yet, despite everything—despite the walls he built around himself, despite the violence that lurked just beneath his calm exterior—you couldn’t bring yourself to step away.

Because, in some way, you knew this was as close as he could come to protecting you.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want him to stop.

———————

30!!!!! We’re getting up there in numbers! I think I might drag the burn on a little bit more, I once read a slow burn that took 80 chapters for them to hold hands, I won’t make it that extreme tho lmao. Lemme know what you think!! :)

Tag list

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[emsprovisions]

Still working on this Carlos fic! So happy Wednesday and have a bit more from it :)

Laughter filters in from the bathroom where TK’s giving Jonah a post-dinner bath filled with their usual songs and rubber ducky playtime. Carlos smiles at the sound of it. 

He never thought this would be his life. He’d never been wholly against kids, but he never saw them in his life either. He thought that he could keep ignoring the puppy-dog-pleading look in TK’s eyes every time they passed a couple with kids at the park, or the ice cream shop, or anywhere else. They’d walk in on a cute moment only to have it broken up by the kid throwing a tantrum and Carlos giving TK a look pointedly saying he’s not ready to deal with screaming kids. He liked getting to give them back to their parents, just being the fun uncles without having to do any of the actual hard work. 

Carlos has always thrived in his comfortable bubble. It’s grown to adapt TK. But TK fit into his life naturally. TK showed Carlos who he’s supposed to be. He and TK live comfortably in their downtown bachelor pad of a loft and he sort of thought that would be the plan for as long as he could make it work. Their open floor loft with its brick walls and concrete floors on the third floor of their building wouldn't be easy to burn down or break into. It’s half industrial and half cozy and it has always been them.

Until now. 

Now that they have been tasked with providing a safe haven for a young boy who has tragically lost everything but his older brother. They’re still a family, still Jonah’s parents in the sense that they’ll raise him and love him, but it’s unconventional, and it’s entirely them as well. 

Before, Carlos may not have been able to envision him and TK going out of their way to disrupt their cozy life with the choice to have a kid, regardless if it was adoption or surrogacy. He was certain he would’ve kept telling TK he wasn’t ready. Even back before Jonah was even a concept, when Carlos was too wrapped up in his father’s case to consider growing his family with TK, it just didn’t feel right. A kid was always going to have to be thrust on them. Carlos knows that now. 

He also thinks maybe he was crazy to ever think he could deny his husband forever. Because just like TK came into Carlos’s life like a wrecking ball to dismantle the way he thought he was supposed to be content with living, so did his baby brother. Gwyn’s boys have a way of doing that to him. And Carlos is wrapped pretty tightly around both of their fingers. Fatherhood has also made Carlos realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do to make TK happy.

Thank you for the tags @welcometololaland @captain-gillian @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @henrygrass @futures-tense @everlastingday @carlossreaders @whatsintheboxmh @strandnreyes @paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom No pressure tags @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter @alrightbuckaroo @butchreyes @reyesstrand @tellmegoodbye @eclectic-sassycoweyes @lightningboltreader @rangersoup @bonheur-cafe @chicgeekgirl89 @decafdino @nancys-braids + Open tag 🏷

[murderofravens]

something about inho that people forget or misinterpret is the fact that he's not the complete heartless sadist that a large part of the fandom portrays him out to be. so far in the show, some of his most genuine moments are his hand trembling when he encounters jun-ho, him shooting him in a non fatal spot and then sending someone to save him, and the moments where he cheered with his team during the games. the happiness on his face was genuine. we've seen him look at himself with utter resentment in the mirror after the moment with jun-ho, and as lee byung hun said— a part of him is rooting for gihun. when he killed the player during mingle, he didn't look like he enjoyed it. i think he looked rather devastated. his eyes were red and glassy when he declared himself dead to gihun. because he kills not for enjoyment, but out of a necessity. every kill of his so far has been what he'd deem necessary. im sure if we could see his face when he killed jungbae, he would simply look indifferent, or the way he did during mingle. i doubt there would be any semblance of happiness or joy on his face. he torments gihun probably because he sees himself in him— the younger, naive inho who thought he could play hero only to end up losing everything. he's bitter and resentful that gihun could get back there and try to save people the second time, voluntarily abandoning his wife and daughter in the process. he simply wants to break gihun's spirit, the way his was.

it's been established through recent interviews that inho didn't join the games as the frontman because he enjoyed it, but rather because he had nowhere else to go. the games became familiar to him, and he couldn't face his mother and brother after everything that happened to him. i also believe he still can't forgive himself for everything that's happened— for losing his wife, and child, and now brother. and this is his own way of punishing himself and isolating himself from the world after losing everything that meant something to him.

with that being said, if there is an actual sadist in the series— it's the recruiter. which is why sometimes it feels like mischaracterization to see the both of them be put in the same league. the recruiter clearly enjoys killing, he has mentioned that he liked the way holding a gun and killing people felt, and how he killed his own father. now that's a heartless, sadistic motherfucker. that's the main difference between the two. inho still has some humanity in him, despite being the villain. even if he doesn't want to. even if it's just for the people he cares about. but the recruiter doesn't. he's toyed with homeless people, played russian roulette and died simply for the love of the game. and that's why the two are not villains in the same lane. and i wish more people recognized the humanity within inho, even if it is barely noticeable.

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Epilogue

Summary: Y/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it

This part starts with a time skip and there are a couple more time skips in it as well.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); Infertility; If I missed any, let me know

A/N: If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I don't write smut, but there are allusions to smut in my stories.

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 2555 (approx.)

6 months later

The team is gathered once more, this time for your and Steve’s wedding.  Nat is your maid of honour and Bucky is Steve’s best man.  Noah is the ring bearer and he’s super excited to see his Mum and Dad get married, even though he doesn’t really understand what it is all about.

Your nerves are present, given everything you, Steve and Noah have been through the last 12 or so months, you are constantly feeling on edge about it slipping away at a moment’s notice.  Steve has been nothing but amazing in reassuring you that the past is in the past and that nothing is going to stop you and he being together and maybe even giving Noah a sibling or 2.

Nat walked into the room and offered to help you into your dress and zip you up, so you could get onto the main event of the day.  “Nat, I don’t know why I’m so nervous” you say to her.

“Oh babe, it’s totally normal to be nervous on one of the biggest days of your life.  But trust me, that man can’t wait to start his life with you.  When you were unconscious, before we knew your memories had gone, he was beside himself thinking he had lost you forever.”

“Then, when you woke up and didn’t remember him, he was inconsolable.  He even talked at one stage about taking Noah and disappearing and having no contact with this life any more because it was so painful for him to see you and not have you know who he was and how much you meant to him.  And don’t get me started on Noah, he wouldn’t separate the 2 of you for anything, but he damn near did because he knew how much it hurt him and he didn’t want to see Noah go through it as well.”

“We all had to tell him that taking Noah away would hurt him even more because he already didn’t have you in his life, and if he thought you’d gone forever it would just break his little heart.”

Just then, you were both interrupted by a light knock on the door to your room.  Nat walked over and slowly opened the door, to ensure it wasn’t Steve trying to get a pre-emptive look at you before the ceremony.

Instead, she found a little man in a little tux who was looking for his Mama.  She opened the door wide enough for him to come into the room and he stopped when he saw Yn.

“Oh Mama, you look so booful.  I telled Daddy that you would, I just knowed it. He aksed me to give this to you.” With that he presented her with a small wrapped gift and an envelope.

Yn knelt down and opened her arms for her son to walk into.  He stepped forward and threw his arms around her neck and just held on for dear life.  He still remembered the few months when his mum wasn’t around and he took every opportunity to let her know he loved her and to make sure she really was here with him again.

“Thank you my little man,  Are you being good for Daddy and Uncle Bucky?”

“Yes ma’am” came his little soldier response.  His father had trained him very well.

“Good boy, then you run along back to Daddy so you can help him finish getting ready because Mama will be done soon and then we are going to have a big party, ok?”

“K, Mama.  I lub you bery much.”

“I love you too Noah, you have no idea how much.  Tell Daddy I love him too and I will see you both soon.”

With that, he ran out of the room and down the hall to where Steve and Bucky were getting ready in their own room.

Nat looked at her through misty eyes.  “I know I shouldn’t get like this Yn, but I really wish I’d be able to have what you have, but just having Noah in my life makes it a bit better.  He’s such a precious little soul.  You and Cap did well.”

“Yeah, I think we did.  Maybe we might do well again – who knows what could happen” Yn winks at Natasha.

Natasha side-eyes Yn. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“No, I’m not pregnant, not yet anyway, but I’m just saying, it might be something we work on during our honeymoon.”

12 months later

Yns pov

Well, we have worked on a sibling for Noah for longer than we expected to.  I’m not sure what is wrong and why my body can’t conceive the 2nd child we so desperately want.  It happened so effortlessly with Noah, we weren’t even technically trying when we fell pregnant with him and so this has been a big struggle.

We have an appointment with a specialist doctor today to get some testing done to see if there’s a reason why this is not happening for us.    I’m very nervous because I feel like the issues I had after my accident and the subsequent memory loss and the other falls I had might have something to do with it.  After all, my husband has super sperm so it couldn’t be that, right?  It has to be a me problem.

Sitting in the doctor’s office we heard the words Secondary infertility and my whole world just shattered.  “But doctor, I don’t understand, we’ve already had a child, how can we be infertile?”

The doctor explained that it sometimes happens after a couple has a child that they have a harder time conceiving and if they’ve tried for 6-12 months, they can diagnose it as this at that time.  He did assure us that there were things we could try and referred us to a fertility specialist to see what options we could have.

Steve pov

As we left the doctors office and got into our car, Yn was very quiet.  I know she’s struggling with this and thinking it is her fault, and now the doctor has used the word infertility I’m sure she’s even more in her head about this somehow being all on her.

“Babe, can you please talk to me.  We can work through this, it will be ok.”

“That’s easy for you to say Steve, this has nothing to do with you.  Your super sperm will work no matter what.”

“Hey, we don’t know that, maybe the serum has finally taken a toll on my sperm production and maybe this is all on me.  Point is, we won’t know until we see the fertility specialist and get some more testing done.  So, let’s call them and make an appointment for as soon as possible, that way we know where we stand and what our next steps should, or can, be.”  I move my hand off the steering wheel and onto her thigh, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, I suppose, but if it turns out it’s me then maybe we should re-think this whole thing.” She sounded so dejected, I wasn’t sure what she meant.

“Ummm, re-think what whole situation my love?”

“Oh, you know.  Us.  Marriage. You should be with someone who can give you more children and not some washed up, barren old cow.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say about my wife and mother of my son?  About the love of my life?  About the woman that I can’t live without?  Because if you’re even slightly implying what I think you are, then you’re crazy delusional to think that I would ever leave you just because we can’t have any more children.?

“If all we get is Noah, then I’m the happiest man on the face of the earth Yn.  You and Noah, you’re all I need.  Would it be nice to have another baby, of course, but it’s not a deal breaker for me you know.”

“Oh Steve, you always know the right thing to say, how are you so perfect?”

“I’m not perfect baby, I’m just perfect for you.” I smiled at her and hoped she got the dumb idea of us separating out of her head.

5 weeks later

Today was the day Yn and Steve were finally seeing the fertility specialist to get their test results.  Yn didn’t realise so many people were in a similar boat to them and where she had though they would get in to see the specialist within a week, they had to wait 3, then they took samples from both Yn and Steve to send away for the comprehensive testing needed to determine their next step.

Yns leg was bouncing all over the place with nerves as they sat in the waiting room, waiting for their turn with the doctor.

Steve placed his hand on her leg and squeezed, which seemed to calm her down a bit and mostly stopped the bouncing.  “Relax babe, whatever is meant to be will be, we can’t change it right now.”

“I know Steve, but I just wish we already knew and that I could hold a new baby in my arms who would be another mix of you and I, just like Noah.”

“Yeah, but…”  As he started to reply, the nurse called Yns name and they stood up to go into the consultation room.

Steve turned and put his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead as he said “We’re going to be ok Yn, no matter what happens in this appointment.”

They walked into the consultation room and the nurse closed the door behind them.  “Now, before the doctor comes to see you, we just need a little more blood from you Yn.”

“Oh, ok, why is that, is everything ok?”

“Oh yes, there’s just a note on your file that we need to do one more quick test today on you.”

“Ok, do you need me to go to another room or can you take the blood you need here?”

“Here is fine” the nurse said and proceeded to take the blood sample from you.  “The doctor will be in with you shortly.

Both Yn and Steve were nervous now.  They were under the impression that all the testing they needed had been done so they weren’t sure what this extra test that needed to be run was or what it meant.  They held hands as they waited for the doctor to come tell them what was going on.  Steve rubbed his thumb over the back of Yns hand to help calm her down.

“Steve, I feel like this is bad, very bad.”

“It’s going to be ok my love.  Whatever it is, we will face it together, just like everything else.” He once again kissed her on her forehead to try and reassure her and hoped she couldn’t feel his heart beating a million miles an hour and the nerves exuding from his body.

After about 10 minutes the doctor entered the room and greeted them.  “Hello Captain & Mrs Rogers, it’s good to see you both again.  So, we got the results of all your tests and everything looks good I have to say.”

“So, there’s no issue you can see that is stopping us from conceiving?” Steve asked the doctor incredulously.

“Nothing I can see at all.  Captain, your sperm are definitely super, there’s more than normal and they’re fast little buggers.  And Yn, your egg production is still right on track and they look very healthy as well.”

“Well, that’s good to hear Doctor” Yn said “But why can’t we conceive.  And what is this extra test they took blood from me for today – we thought we’d submitted everything for ever test under the sun.”

“Well, that’s where it gets a little tricky, because something did show up on your test that we weren’t quite expecting” the doctor began. “So we wanted to grab a little more blood just to quickly run another test to make sure the results were accurate.”

“And…” Steve was staring to get impatient. “Is my wife ok?  Is there something wrong that we need to see another doctor for?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with her technically.  At least, nothing that won’t get better in about 8 months.  Congratulations you are pregnant.  Sometimes these things resolve themselves and it looks like it was just a matter of time for you two, and now you are about 4 weeks pregnant.”

Steve and Yn just looked at the doctor in absolute shock, they were totally not expecting this news.

“Are you sure Doctor?  I don’t feel pregnant.” Yn asked.

“Well, it’s still early, luckily we have sophisticated tests that can pick up the HCG changes very early, otherwise we might have missed it.  But the blood we took from you today has confirmed that you are indeed pregnant.  Now, I would recommend scheduling an appointment with your regular doctor and also an ultrasound for sometime in the next couple of weeks.”

“Thank you Doctor” Steve stood up and shook his hand.

Yn stood up in complete silence as if she was still having a hard time taking in this news, even though it was everything they wanted.

Steve moved her towards the door of the Doctors office, dealt with the paperwork with the receptionist and then led her towards their car for the drive home.

Time skip – 8 months later (approx.)

“On more big push Yn, you can do this, you’re about to meet your new baby.” The midwife encouraged her to keep going.

“I can’t.  They’ll just have to stay there.  I’m too tired.” She looked up at Steve who was holding her hand.

“Yn, you can absolutely do this my darling.  I know you can.  You did it with Noah, now you will bring our new baby into the world.  You want to meet him or her, don’t you?  We’ll be able to give them a name and see their little eyes and nose and fingers and toes.”

“Yes I want to meet them, but I’m soooo tired Steve, why can’t you push this baby out for me??” she asked.

“Believe me Yn, if I could, I would but you have to do this.  Now, when the doctor tells you to, just give one more big push and we’ll meet Noah’s sibling for the first time.”

“Okay, Yn, give it all you’ve got.”

Yn rolled her eyes, took a deep breath and pushed with all her might.

“Here they are” the nurse exclaimed.  “Dad, did you want to come cut the cord and give Mama the good news?”

Steve nodded, tears in his eyes as he stepped forward to cut the umbilical cord.  Hearing their baby’s first cry as he did so made the moment even more special.

Once he’d done the deed, he grabbed the baby and moved up to where you could see.  Placing the baby on your chest he said “Congratulations Yn, we have a beautiful baby boy”

Yn could not believe this day was finally here.  She kissed the baby’s head and said “Welcome to our family, little one.  We love you so much already, we’ve been looking forward to meeting you for so long.  We can’t wait for you to meet your big brother, he’s going to be so excited.”

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash @mrsnikstan @harrysnovia @salemslostwitch

[kittenscookie]

Ares yeeting himself anon again, and again despite not reading pjo and just dipping my toes in epic my brain is working overdrive with M.E!Ares

I feel like his kids know that he loves them, and that the only reason he isn’t there is because of the rules and such, but I feel like they’d underestimate how much Ares loves them, and they wouldn’t realize until he literally falls out the sky because he wasted no time to see them after getting visitation rights, I mean, this is just based off memory of second hand knowledge of his myths but he seems the type who loves passionately/deeply but tenderly, i dont know if that makes sense

I feel like once he gets visitation rights he’d also be like Athena in his involvement with his children, he’s co-parenting now

...

Clarisse knew her dad loved them, okay? She was well aware of that fact, he made it quite obvious. Because after every achievement and milestone Athena stopped by tell her how proud Ares had been. Everytime her and her siblings won capture the flag there'd be an envelope filled with cash and drachmas on the nightstand. There'd usually be a little message attached to it, "To celebrate or split EVENLY amongst yourselves"

Athena knew her and her siblings birthdays as well as she knew her own childrens. Because every year on the day of her birth the goddess came to her with a message from her father if not a card. But when Clarisse had turned 8 that hadn't been all. She also brought a teddy bear just a head shorter than she'd been at the time. With a leather jacket and greek armor, a sword in one paw, a shield in the other. It had a little switch in its back and when you clicked it its face would go from the calm face of your average stuffed animal to angry—showing of fangs and a nasty scowl. She'd called that bear Madea and she still had it sitting on the edge of her bunk.

So yes. Clarisse knew her dad loved her—she knew alright—but sometimes...Sometimes she caught herself watching Athena and Annabeth spare, scowling. Sometimes her throat got tight when she saw Hermes and Luke banter and laugh. And in the middle of the night sometimes she'd hold those cards tight in her fist—creasing the edges—and reread the messages written in them over and over again. Then she'd do her best to smooth the edges back out and tuck them back into her bag. She knew her dad loved her but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder exactly how much.

But then the war ended and Percy made the gods swear they'd take care of their children. Two days later Clarisse and Malcolm had been sparring when she caught sight of something falling from the sky at breakneck speed. She hadn't been able to make it out before it landed—he landed. Ares, father, she'd barely had time to process before she was brought up in a bruising hug. It was tight and crushing yet gentle at the same time. Her eyes stung as the god somehow managed to pull her even closer to his chest, a large hand came up to caress the top of her head.

They stayed like that for a bit before her father managed to pull himself away—she could tell he was hesitant to do so. In that moment she realized he would have held her for hours if he could, but he had other children to be with. Children much younger that needed to be held and comforted, shown just how much their father loved them.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - 3 / ?

Chapters - 1 / 2 / 3

summary: Some rules are meant to be followed—others were made to be broken. And they were breaking them all.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari Engineer!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +3K

a/n: Let's head into the season then, each episode is probably going to cover 2 gp's, except for the more important ones.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD CONTENT UNDER, -16 PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

It was your first Sunday after a real GP weekend and the garage hummed with the controlled chaos of post-race analysis.

The sharp scent of burnt rubber and fuel still lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the battle fought on track just hours ago. You sat at your workstation, eyes flicking between the telemetry data on the screen and the notes scattered across the desk.

The tension in your shoulders refusing to ease, even as you forced yourself to take slow, measured breaths.

Carlos’s podium was a win for the team, a much-needed morale boost, but Leclerc’s brake issues gnawed at you like an unsolved equation.

You know the motto, every fraction of a second on F1 it’s a universe on its own

And honestly, if you had a dollar for every time Ferrari found a new and exciting way to stir up Charles’ race, you could probably afford your own kart by now.

That was your job now though, make sure those mishappens were reduced to none, if possible.

Your phone buzzed beside you, lighting up with a familiar name.

Dad.

A small smile crept onto your lips as you answered. “Dad, before you start, yes, I saw the race. Yes, I know the exact moment Charles started having those brake issue. And no, I don’t need you to tell me we should have pitted him earlier.”

Your father chuckled on the other end. “I raised a sharp one, didn’t I? You sound tired, though.”

“Not tired, just over-caffeinated and slightly delirious”

You glanced around the garage, watching as engineers worked through their notes, tweaking simulations for next week. “It’s just… Charles could’ve been on that podium too, but the brake issues ruined any chance of fighting.”

Your father hummed in understanding. “You always did hate problems you couldn’t fix.”

“Tell me about it” You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temple. “Carlos did an amazing job, though. I should focus on that.”

“You should.” He paused, his voice turning softer. “And you should also enjoy this, Y/N. You’re in Ferrari, at the track. You dreamed of this.”

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat. “Thanks dad.”

Your father sighed. “And I know you, which means you’re probably stressing about something else, aren’t you?”

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes. “Can I get through one phone call without you playing therapist?”

“Not a chance” he quipped. “Now, tell me, have you met Lewis Hamilton yet?”

You nearly dropped Your phone. “Dad!”

“Oh, come on, kid. He’s my favorite. I also know how much the media has been circling around his struggles. And if I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been paying attention.”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the phone because you had been paying attention.

Too much if you ask me, but you’ve always ignored warnings, so go ahead, do Mercedes’ job as well, why won’t you?

But it wasn’t just the headlines dissecting his performance or the murmurs in the paddock. It was the way your stomach twisted every time you caught a glimpse of him, the way you couldn’t let go of that night in Abu Dhabi.

You cleared your throat. “He’s not my concern. I have to go though, call you later okay?”

Your father laughed. “Not yet buddy, not yet. Talk later then, love you.”

As you hung up, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Talking to your secret boyfriend?”

You turned to find Charles leaning on the counter beside you, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Just my dad” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll let him know you think he’s my secret boyfriend, though.”

Charles smirked. “Well, tell him I said hi. Now, what’s the verdict?”

 “Those brake issues cost you more than I’d like to admit.” You sighed, gesturing to your screen.

Charles groaned dramatically. “Tell me about it. I was fighting that car more than the others drivers.”

“Oh, trust me, we could tell.”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin. “Welcome to Ferrari, we love to keep things stress-free and simple” he quipped.

Carlos, who had just walked into the room, scoffed. “Where’s my analysis?”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Podium. You did great.”

Carlos rolled his eyes but a grin tugged at his lips. “That’s the spirit.”

Carlos nudged Charles. “Hear that? I’m the favorite now.”

Charles scoffed. “For one race. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Before you could reply, a voice called out from across the room.

“Y/N!”

Fred stood by the entrance, giving you a small nod of approval. “Good work this weekend.”

It was brief, but it meant everything. You nodded back, feeling a swell of pride. Maybe you did belong here.

As Charles and Carlos continued their playful banter, you let yourself enjoy the moment. Because for the first time in a long time, despite the chaos, despite the ghosts of the past, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And if you just so happened to check Lewis’ latest interview later on? Well, that was nobody’s business, right?!

By the time the Saudi Arabian GP rolled around, you had found your rhythm.

Meetings, data crunching, strategic planning—it was a symphony you were beginning to conduct effortlessly.

“Kid’s got guts.” you muttered, watching the Ollie’s onboards. “Thrown into the deep end and still holding his own.”

Leclerc nodded beside you. “He reminds me of someone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You. You acted like you belonged here from day one.”

You chuckled. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

As the race unfolded, Bearman’s performance cemented his place as an impressive stand-in, but your attention, no matter how hard you tried, kept slipping toward the Mercedes garage.

Toward Lewis.

His struggles were written all over the timing screens. The frustration in his radio messages, the dissatisfaction on his face—it gnawed at something.

Get a grip, Y/N. His problems are not yours.

You’d been hoping for a quiet night at the hotel. You just wanted a cup of tea, something to wind down after a long day at the track and podium celebrations afterwards.

But I could always count on the universe, ever the comedic genius, to shove him directly in my path.

He was sitting at the hotel bar, fingers absently tracing the rim of a half-empty glass. He wasn’t talking to anyone, no entourage, no Mercedes engineers hovering around.

Just him. Alone.

Abort mission. Walk away. Nothing to see.

But before you could turn on your heels and make a clean escape, Lewis looked up, and his gaze locked onto yours.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its typical confidence, the easy charm that was him.

You considered lying. Saying you just happened to be passing through, had a Zoom call, an emergency meeting—anything but admitting you couldn’t sleep because your brain refused to shut up.

But lying required energy, and you had none left.

“Something like that,” you admited instead.

Lewis motioned to the stool next to him. A small, barely perceptible invitation.

This is how things started last time. A drink, a conversation. Next thing you know, you're waking up in a tangled mess of sheets again.

And yet, you sat down.

For a moment, there was only silence. Not the awkward kind, but the weighty kind, like the air between them was filled with unspoken words neither knew how to break.

Lewis sighed, shaking his head slightly before speaking. “It’s funny,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “We spend our whole lives trying to be the best. Always pushing forward, always chasing something. And then one day, you wake up and wonder if the thing you’re chasing even exists anymore.”

Your fingers curled slightly around the edge of the bar. You recognized that look in his eyes. Not self-pity. Not even frustration.

It was doubt. Self-doubt.

Your first instinct was to wave it off, to remind him he was Lewis Freaking Hamilton, and if anyone was born to win, it was him. But something stopped you.

Because this wasn’t about his ability. He knew he was good. He knew he was one of the greatest to ever do it. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was… what if being great wasn’t enough, not anymore?

And you got that. You really did.

So instead of feeding him some empty platitude, you decided on meeting him halfway—being vulnerable too.

“I know my world isn’t the same as yours” you said carefully. “But I get it. The uncertainty, the constant pressure, the feeling you don’t belong in the place you fought so hard to get to”

Lewis turned to you, his full attention snapping into place, and it nearly made you regret opening your mouth. Nearly.

“These past two races, they were my tryouts for Ferrari’s trackside team,” you admitted. “And when we get back to the factory tomorrow, I have to give them an answer. Stay or go back to the factory.”

Lewis’s brows lifted slightly. “And?”

You exhaled. “I like it, being out there. It’s exhilarating. But… there’s so much I’d have to leave behind. My family, my life outside of this.” You shook your head. “If I follow the team around the world, I won’t see my dad as much. I won’t get to just… go home when I need to.”

Lewis studied you, nodding slightly. “You’re giving me the pros and cons,” he said after a beat. “But what does your gut tell you? What do you really want?”

Your mouth opened, then closed.

Oh, he’s good.

You hated how easily he saw through you, how he cut straight to the core of your hesitation. Because deep down, you knew the answer.

You let out a quiet breath. “I really like it here.”

Lewis’s lips curled slightly, like he knew you had always known but just needed to say it out loud.

Then you narrowed Your eyes at him. “You’re good at this.”

His smirk widened. “At what?”

“Making people admit to things they don’t want to but deep down need to.”

Lewis exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. “Just so you know, that voice, telling you’re not good enough, never really goes away,” he admitted. “Not even after seven championships.”

Y/N let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “Great. Something to look forward to.”

That made him smile, but there was something else in his eyes now. A quiet kind of appreciation. Like he hadn’t expected you to understand, but you did.

And instead of dismissing what he felt, you had met him there.

He leaned back against the bar, watching you for a long moment before a small smirk pulled at his lips. “I had one night with you, and I’m already breaking every single one of my rules.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, playing along despite the sudden flip in your stomach. “Rules?”

His smirk widened. “I don’t open up like this.”

Your lips twitched. “Well…you were my first one-night stand, so I guess we’re even.”

Lewis blinked, looking genuinely caught off guard. “What?”

You shrugged, picking up a cocktail napkin and folding it absently.

For a second, he just stared at you, then let out a real, genuine laugh. The kind that cracked through the tension in the air and made something inside you ease.

“That makes this even more ironic.” he murmured, shaking his head.

Silence stretched between you two again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was fragile.

He looked away for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t even know what I want anymore. I think.”

You tilted your head, curiosity tugging. “You think?”

Lewis hesitated, then finally admitted, “I guess I just don’t want to feel like I’m chasing something that might not exist anymore.”

The honesty in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs. You had never seen this side of him before—unguarded, unsure.

You swallowed, then offered, “Maybe it’s not about chasing the same goal though, but finding something new worth fighting for.”

Lewis studied you for a long moment, a unreadable gaze “And for you? What’s worth fighting for?”

You hesitated, then smiled softly. "This dream… it isn’t just mine. My dad, my family—they sacrificed so much for me to be here. And I feel like if I don’t make it, I’m letting them down too."

Lewis nodded, understanding settling in his eyes in a way that made your chest tighten. Because you knew his story.

"I know what you mean," he murmured. " But sometimes, that weight… it gets heavy, doesn’t it?"

A small smirk tugged at your lips. “It does.”

The air between them shifted again, a thread pulling tighter, a connection neither of them had anticipated but couldn’t ignore. And for once, neither tried to fight it.

A sharp vibration startled you as your phone alarm went off, signaling the ungodly hour you had set to remind yourself to get some rest before the next travel day. You groaned, reaching to silence it before rubbing your temples.

Lewis glanced at you "Early flight?"

You nodded, stretching slightly. "Leaving tomorrow morning with the crew, heading back to the factory."

He hummed, taking a sip from his drink before setting the glass down. "Good luck on your decision"

You stood, smoothing down your shirt, trying to shake off the odd weight in your chest that came with the realization that whatever this moment was, it was ending—for now. "Guess I'll see you around."

Lewis looked up at your, his gaze lingering. "In Melbourne."

You gave him a small nod, and as you walked away, you found yourself wishing the same thing.

God help you. This man is going to be your end. And might even be mine.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

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[stars0fthesea]

Hello! I’m so extremely bored so I’m gonna post a song analysis kind of thing? But it’s about Jason and Amelia. Uhmmm idk how to explain it soooo JUST READ!!!

Song: A Humans Touch (on Spotify by TWRP, McKenna Rae)

(TW: Mentions of child abuse and neglect. I don’t go into super details but it is mentioned.)

(ALSO ALSO These are my own versions of Jason and Amelia. They were childhood friends that grew up together!!! I’ll make another post about that or whatever.)

Jason and Amelia ^

The first bit could be applied to both of them.

“Am I toy to you, my love? Just a thing to play and then throw away.”

For Jason it’s the feeling of betrayal. he did everything for Amelia, kept her safe from the world. He was loyal to her and yet she betrayed him when he was at rock bottom. He believes that Amelia took all the “love” he gave to her without giving anything back. Essentially she “threw him away” after she realized she no longer needed him. Even though that isn’t what happened.

Jason just can’t ever blame himself for his own actions and the consequences that follow. He didn’t keep Amelia safe, nor was he ever loyal. He wanted control over her, and when he no longer had that control he became angry. That anger mixed with the exhaustion and burnout he faced ended up killing him.

For Amelia, she felt terrified— she was terrified. Always feeling as though Jason never truly loved her, only used her, manipulated her into having no one around her. Scaring her from ever making true friends and only having Jason, until the end. Which goes with the “Am I just a toy to you, my love?” Jason played with her, toyed with her emotions. Turned her once confident personality into a more confined one.

“I never asked for this”

Jason never asked his parents to neglect, abuse, and kick him out of the house all because he wanted to become a toymaker. Amelia never asked for Jason to treat her the way he did just because she was one of the only one to treat Jason nicely.

“I always did my best.”

Jason always listened to his father. Fixing any flaws his father would point out. He did everything to try and get his attention, try and make him proud— until he realized that nothing. Nothing. He did would ever make his parents happy. Everything he did was a mistake in their eyes. And so he tuned them out. Jason didn’t need them anyways. For gods sake he would show them just how amazing he really is.

…

“Without your love, I am a broken mess.” Self explanatory for Jason…after Amelia killed him he ended up being broken. His heart became more rotten after losing Amelia’s love for him. He turned into a mess, looking for a woman that can replace what Amelia left. A void in his heart, waiting to be filled.

This entire part is just Jason. ^

“I never did you wrong”

These words fit Amelia more. During their entire relationship Amelia didn’t do anything to Jason. She was supportive of his dreams, offered to help him succeed, she was an amazing friend.

Yet Jason still treated Amelia as if she was nothing but a toy. She did everything for him, but Jason treated her like a child. Hell she could have done so much more than the pathetic redhead and he’d still see her as something he has control over. Amelia knew that they would never be equals in his eyes, and she didn’t dare say anything about it. (If you couldn’t tell he’s a misogynist.)

For Jason these words just circle back to his entire belief being: His actions are justified because everything he did was to protect Amelia from the cruel world she didn’t understand. He didn’t do anything wrong to Amelia, she just didn’t understand anything. She didn’t understand the love he was giving to her.

“Until the new me came along.”

Amelia again! This kind of goes with the first part but I wanted to write it separately. We know Amelia didn’t do anything to Jason, yeah.

She eventually did free herself from his control, realizing what he was doing to her. It took a lot of courage and strength but she did it. She escaped Jason. And eventually she killed the man that manipulated her. Thus why the lyrics: “I never did you wrong, until the new me came along.” Fits her so well. This new version of herself took over control and got rid of the evil redhead.

“it was just you and me”

Jason from the very start of his life was neglected. His own parents didn’t want him. He was alone. At school nobody would speak with him. The teachers felt bad, but they didn’t do much with the children teasing and bullying Jason. He had absolutely no one.

But then.

Amelia showed up in his life. Amelia who was smiling brightly since the day she met Jason. She was talkative and sure a bit annoying, but Jason finally had someone. And it wasn’t bad. Despite all the other children whispering rumors about Jason, Amelia stuck by his side.

It was just Jason and Amelia.

Jason needs Amelia. Or at least that’s what he thinks.

He takes the lives of every woman that reminds him of Amelia. Whether it be their personality, their face, their looks, whatever. He desperately tries to feel how it once felt to have Amelia by his side. Call it obsession if you will…but really he just misses having such power and control over someone.

[crimsonxe]

To start with the whole point of my response was the fact that I'm a multishipper hence the mentioning of me shipping AmberPrice, Pricefield, and AmberPricefield. In other words I'm not purely a Pricefielder.

1- Shouldn't be that hard to understand. Pricefielders & LGBT+ fans were stabbed in the back by DE in their breaking up a 10+ year iconic LGBT+ pair; doubled in how shittily & disrespectfully as it was done. Michel is one of the OG writers aka fathers of LiS from DontNod who put out a social post saying that Pricefield would never break up; they could have rough patches but never fully break up. He & DontNod are the true canon makers for LiS1 & 2 as those are games helmed by them.

2- Yes, your ass ignoring or trying to handwave away Pricefield's importance and connection = you're a dumabass. Especially since you repeatedly try to do it across at least 3 posts of yours (which you put in the damn Pricefield tag no less; ofc your ass is going to get raked over coals).

Um fuck no, Pricefield should not be "just friends" for your dumbass's preference. My Max didn't sacrifice the Bay because she was just friends with Chloe, she was fully in love with her. Which again was shown once again by DontNod in LiS2-Bae route w/ green-haired Chloe. Have you never heard the stories of sapphic ex's repeatedly getting back together? Also this shit is fantasy not a documentary.

Chloe isn't the past, Chloe is the shining light that came out of the past. Max throwing away the past instead of accepting it and healing from it, then walking forward with a partner who had gone through the same major events as well as shown her devotion to her as much as she had for her = the better damn route that is ACTUAL growth; you wanting her to toss away Chloe in order to make way for Safi IS BIAS.

I never said anywhere that going solo was a bad thing, but even one of the fathers of LiS says that isn't how the two would go.

As already pointed out your dumbass made sure to include Pricefield tag shoving your shit into it. I went through it thinking that surely I'd find a point where I could at least see where you were coming from, a kernel; but nope. I just saw more and more bullshit, so I'm most definitely the opposite of a fan.

You are definitely not a Pricefielder. You can try to slap a fake ass sticker on yourself if you want; but not a damn Pricefielder around would speak like your dumb fucking ass has.

In other words your ass doesn't have a clue about the characters, because I listed out the assassinations that anyone that actually knows the characters would already have caught themselves. No, Chloe breaking up with Max isn't at all fucking realistic or fucking matching to her goddamn character. LiS1 & BtS make it very damn clear that once someone gets past Chloe's mental/emotional walls she's VERY loyal to them. To the point that she hears about Frank and Rachel and STILL wants to find out what happened with her; same damn thing goes for Max. Max wouldn't let the relationship just die either, ESPECIALLY after LiS1 and seeing how that impacted Chloe the first time they separated. Max also would definitely not be into a fucking Nathan Prescott douche in general, but especially given what happened in LiS. With Amanda I can at least handwave/eye-roll it away cause she's basically a soft demure femmed up lipstick lesbian with minor elements of Chloe buried in the cashmere. I also love how you just ignored certain things like Max's hurling the Rachel barb at Chloe in her journal or Chloe of all people talking about a threesome with some guy. Nvm that Max can technically abuse her powers to hook up with Vinh/Amanda in the separate branches; as if she'd ever fucking do that. Hell even Michel once again in a post on socials said that Decknine's version of Max and Chloe aren't ones he & his team would've done or recognized.

Um no, dumbass she loves Chloe so she does what is needed to save her from y'know DYING. That's just fucking love and care for another person. It is very much fucking healthy and that you see that as unhealthy yet nudge Safi/Max says worlds about your views on relationships.

3- Do I want them to continue Max and Safi's dynamic? Sure, there's interesting aspects there involving one wanting to restrain her powers and another wanting to openly flex hers. But I do NOT at all want it to be all about them, especially with the fucking bit about going back to the Bay. That's pure setup for Chloe to return and the next creative team would be braindead to not rectify DE's team's mistake by delivering a Chloe storyline & OPTION in the end. It won't make up for the character assassination, which is where them putting in a scene to show that DE is a side-branch comes in. Though Decknine already gave enough reason to run with that anyway via their changing Chloe's hair in the LiS2-Bae picture from green to blue; likely cause they have no respect towards DontNod and their characters. But their fuck up allows for one to toss DE into a side-branch, while green-haired Chloe & Max handled by DontNod remain as the main canon. On top of that having opportunity for Safi to use her shape-shift ability to fuck with Max via Chloe and Chloe via Max as part of their storyline.

4- Completely ignoring the actual important detail where your ass offers every other option BUT a Chloe one. Nvm that Michel once again father of LiS, Max, and Chloe stating that the two would always come back together and never fully break up. Hell iirc even recently on the anniversary he was out replying suggestively to Pricefield posts specifically; because he knows the importance of the pair both to each other and to LGBT+ fans that got into the series due to them.

5- Do get your comprehension skills up, cause if your ass bothered to actually read you'd notice that I stated that "violence against women" is AN ELEMENT within; but the core of the entire goddamn first LiS revolves around PRICEFIELD. How the fuck your ass went through the episodes and have at all interacted w/ social media related to the game and not realized that I don't fucking know. Maybe you have that level of damn mental filters put in place. If there wasn't Chloe in the bathroom getting shot, there'd be no time travel; without Chloe and Max's relationship there'd be no story at all just a skeleton of story beats.

Bitch there is no delusion as proven by pointing to Michel AKA ONE OF THE FATHERS OF THE GODDAMN GAME where he fucking basically backs up MY fucking views on things. YOUR ASS is the one off on your own delusional ass island somewhere. On top of that I RESPECT DontNod for what they did with LiS and offering an LGBT+ main damn pairing back in 2015, when LGBT+ was still just starting to be an accepted thing in media. Hell even the fucking comics know the characters, relationship, and story enough to respect DontNod; thus fitting in-line with LiS characterization. Mostly cause Emma actually loved LiS, its characters, its iconic relationship, and gave respect to DontNod.

You fail at grasping the characters, at grasping the relationship, at even aligning with the OG creatives, at remotely being near a Pricefielder, and you stand on nothing but bullshit pro-Safi & clear anti-Chloe bias. You accuse Pricefielders of being limited in their view of things, but YOUR ass is the one that has a limited & just flatout wrong view of things. That's a matter of you not aligning with Michel and DontNod in anyway shape or form, where they're the damn OG creatives that made the damn characters & game.

this is probably going to be EXTREMELY controversial so i dont expect ANYONE to agree (please dont hate me 🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️‼️) but i REALLY DONT WNAT CHLOE BACK IN DE2. I HAVE REASONS!!!!!!!!

1. i think that it'll be viewed as a cash grab and like pricefield / chloe fans r never happy sooooo

2. if chloe and max were to get back together for some unforeseen reason i think that woukd ruin max's potential growth in de2 in my opinion. like i PERSONALLY think that her 'losing' chloe should help her move on from the past and should be portrayed as something that can help her move forward instead of dwelling on what could have been (as taylor swift once said, everything you lose is a step you take 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

3. i think she'd be so out of place and id rather have de2 focus on max and safi's relationship and this highkey sounds lkke bias because of my fixation but i PROMISE YOU its not.. mostly...

4. i think that max should grow by herself i really dont think she needs to be attached to chloe by the fucking hip.. like i would be so fucking ecstatic if you got to be with amanda/vinh/safi at the end of de2 but i think the most realistic ending would be for her to be by herself, not FOREVER, but for a good amount of time for her to be secure with being by herself because i personally think max is extremely codependent with chloe.. if .. that makes sense

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.