#excited to finally get this out into the world though!

[sanemistar]

DANGEROUS MAN

contents ★ clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, suggestive (17+), making out, slight mention of biting/marking, reader gets called princess, 1.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

your parents had warned you several times about satoru gojo, the leader of the gojo clan. one of the strongest clans to exist, along with your own clan. they had forbidden you from speaking him, let alone being in the same room as him. due to the long history and the rivalry between your clan and the gojos, your clans had considered each other enemies for as long as one could remember. you had been familiar with their warnings like the back of your hand, and you had abided by them for so long. though you personally had no ill intentions towards him, nor even understood the hatred against the gojos.

that was, until you had met him in person at one of those boring higher up gatherings that you were forced to attend when you two coincidently went outside to get a breath of fresh air, away from all the tension and awkwardness inside.

the first thought that had come across your mind when you first saw satoru was that he was charming, like one of those charming princes you read about in fairy tales. you’d seen him in pictures before, but never this close. truth be told, pictures could’ve never fully captured how ethereal he looked in real life. you’d never seen anyone like him before, and you probably never would. he was simply out of this world, like a work of art—a one in a million man. enchanted by his beauty, you couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. your eyes never dared to look away from him, as if they were glued onto him.

“well well. if it isn’t you, the princess from that clan.” satoru’s voice pierced through your ears, waking you up from your dazed state. “you’ve been staring at me for so long, like i’m a statue in a museum or something.” you were unaware of how long you’d been staring at satoru until you saw the confusion on his face as he pointed out. you felt your face redden in embarrassment and you immediately looked down in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

“s-sorry about that, gojo-san. i didn’t mean to do that, i just…” you trailed off mid sentence, unsure of what to say in order to justify your actions earlier. your head was in and your thoughts were all over the place.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming closer to you and before you was none other than satoru. the one man you shouldn’t be standing so close to. your mind was telling you to run away and leave, but your body refused to move an inch. his thumb quickly glazed over your chin, swiftly lifting it up and your eyes got caught in his alluring gaze like a mouse in a cheese trap that was unable to escape before he let go of your chin. you could swear that the spot where he touched you earlier was tingling, as if his touch was electric.

“oh c’mon, no need for these formalities. they mean nothing to me. my name is satoru, so just call me satoru.” he spoke and you were slightly taken aback, you two had just met and he already wanted you to act on a first name basis.

“but..” he cut you mid sentence.

“no buts, it’s pretty easy. just repeat after me, satoru.” he said his name again slowly, waiting for you to say it back. he was pretty insistent on it so it looked like you had no choice.

“satoru.” his name finally rolled off your tongue, and a proud smirk made its way onto his face upon hearing you say his name. the way it came off your lips got him a little excited.

just then an idea popped up in satoru’s head, a reckless one at that.

“why don’t we go somewhere else where it’s just us two? away from all this.” he grabbed your hand gently yet firmly, like he had no intention of leaving you alone.

you knew best that it was never good ignoring what your parents had told you and involving yourself with him. but at that moment, you agreed to go with him. completely forgetting about everything, the rivalry, the hatred, everything. you weren’t sure if that was a rebellion phase or what, all you knew was that it felt right leaving with him.

satoru seemed surprised for a moment by how quickly you agreed to follow him, but grinned and took your hand before dragging the two of you away as you disappeared from the main entrance and into a quieter place where it was just you and him.

you had no idea how you ended up being pinned against the wall with satoru’s tall, lean figure hovering over you. completely blocking your view and blocking you from sight.

“why did you follow me so easily, hm? what if i had a malicious intention of some sort. didn’t your parents warn you about how dangerous the gojos were? especially their leader.” your chest moved up and down as your heart began racing rapidly.

“if you had any malicious intentions like you said, you would’ve taken me somewhere outside the territory. but since we didn’t really go that far away, it’d be useless for you to be doing anything dangerous here.” you began explaining. and satoru seemed so impressed by your smart response.

“you’re indeed very amusing.” he chuckled softly. he rested his hands on the wall, forcing you to look at nothing else around but him.

tension between the two of you began rising, and you found yourself subconsciously looking at his lips.

and satoru was so quick to notice how you were eyeing his lips for a while now.

“you could’ve simply asked me for a kiss if you want it so badly instead of just staring at my lips, princess.” he leaned in as he whispered into your ear and you could feel it heat up a bit in embarrassment.

and before you could get the chance to say anything you felt satoru’s lips smacking onto yours. you gasped into the kiss in surprise, your mind screamed at you to break away and push him off of you. but this time not only your body, but also your heart, refused to. you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in the mood as you pulled him even closer to you. your fingers ran through the back of his soft hair.

meanwhile, satoru’s hands delicately trailed all over your back, slowly exploring every part and every bit of your skin. he was taking his sweet time touching you all while having your lips against his own, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

as the two of you further got in the mood, your kisses had become sloppier and hungrier. teeth clashing against each other as tongues swirled around one another in sync. what started off as a soft, gentle kiss had become a series of deep, passionate kisses that held so much lust and desire in them.

you felt so good that you could almost see stars.

“mhmm..” careful not to make any loud noises in order to avoid getting caught by anyone, you hummed against his lips. and you never knew you had the ability to hum like that ever so sweetly.

you couldn’t believe that you were doing such things with the one man you were never supposed to be doing all of that with.

satoru gojo was indeed dangerous, he was too dangerous for your heart.

the two of you had been making out for almost ten minutes straight. if it wasn’t for your desperate need for air to breathe, you wouldn’t have broken away. but due to the lack of oxygen, you had to break away from the kiss and catch your breath. eyes were only half open, your head was still light and dizzy after that makeout session as you were heavily panting, your lips which were now swollen were still slightly parted as a small trail of drool trickled down your chin.

“you look so beautiful right now, i think i’m in love.” satoru glazed his thumb over the corner of your lips, wiping the drool off. he leaned in once more and began nibbling on the crook of your slender neck and you winced a little as you felt him biting a bit too hard which would have probably left a mark that you would have to hide.

“maybe we should leave all this behind and run away together. it’s a great idea, don’t you think?” he suggested as he looked up at you, his blue eyes glowed slightly in the dark.

you suddenly came back to your senses upon hearing the words he said and slightly pushed him off of you.

“satoru we..” you began speaking, trying to form a coherent sentence. “we can’t do that. we’re supposed to be enemies, remember?” it was more of a reminder to yourself than it was to him that you and satoru would never be anything more than enemies.

“but enemies don’t kiss each other like that.” he whispered as he continued kissing your neck and up to your cheeks, then your nose, then back to your lips. he gave you quick, light pecks before pulling away.

“guess i’ll have to talk to those annoying higher ups of ours and end that nonsense rivalry, cause no way i’m gonna let you be with anyone else that’s not me.”

and the next thing you knew, you were being dragged by satoru into the main hall where all the higher ups were as both of you made a dramatic entrance when he announced that he’d be marrying you before kissing you in front of all of them. leaving everyone in the room, you included, in great shock.

satoru gojo was a dangerous, very dangerous man.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies...p2

CW: mention of sex work (being a sugar baby), SFW much like the last one, but it does deal with adult topics so proceed with caution!

Thinking about the time your friends introduced you to this website, partially as a joke. A place where ‘Sugar babies’ can do live videos for rich guys and galls so they can rack in tons of money just by talking. Honestly, you didn’t even consider it initially. It was all just a fun litle joke.

But, eventually, life caught up to you. Out of a job with bills to pay and school to go to, you were left scrambling to get ahead. Of course, friends were more than happy to lend you some cash for your hard times, but that wasn’t even a temporary solution to your problem. You needed something that could keep you afloat long enough to find a job. Ergo, the website. It was the last idea on your mind and honestly, as you were opening up your laptop you were starting to regret it. Felt kinda embarrassing to put yourself out there and admit you needed money from rich older guys to get by. But your dignity would have to wait for later; you had bills to pay and food to put on your table.

You booted up the livestream and, having no idea where to go from there, just started talking. Eventually A small amount of viewers would pop in and you had questions to entertain. No one really tipped over 10 dollars on the stream. You tried to be energetic, hoping that maybe you would bring in more viewers that way, but it clearly wasn’t working. Nearly an hour goes by, and you’re starting to be disillusioned and a little disappointed. You start considering closing the stream down when a 200 dollar tip lights up your laptop screen, followed by a question from a no name account.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You hadn’t been paid that much the entire stream, and it got the excitement back rushing in your veins. You answered “No!” a little too quickly for your liking but when the answer was followed up by another 100 dollar tip, you knew you didn’t embarrass yourself too much. 

All then you started chatting with this mystery account. They asked you all sorts of questions. They asked about your old job, the course you're studying, what you want to be when you leave school, your hobbies, ect. And you started to actually enjoy talking to this person. Not even for the money (All though, admittedly, still a big part of it), but just because there’s someone on the other side of the world that’s interested in your life. 

Eventually the stream did have to end when you looked up and realised how late it had gotten. By the time you were closing the stream and checking your account, you realised you had made around 1,000 dollars already. It felt great to see some actual money in your account for once. Before you finally shut down your laptop for good, you got a private dm request on the website, along with another 500 dollar sent to you.

“Hey, Love. Me and the boys want you to know we appreciate the chat. Hope to hear that sweet voice of yours again soon. 

Sincerely,

-Price.”

[starsjulia]

baby fever // alexia putellas

a/n : maybe it’s because i’m ovulating, but i feel like im having withdrawals from my child (i don’t have a child)

warnings : none!!

“Alexia,” you said, flopping onto the couch dramatically, your phone clutched in one hand. “Look at this baby. Look. Isn’t this proof we should have one?”

She glanced up from her iPad, one brow raised. “That’s the fifth baby you’ve shown me today.”

“Because they’re soooo cute! And we could have one!” You shoved the phone under her nose, showing her a TikTok of a giggling infant in a tiny onesie. “Imagine our baby. They’d have your eyes, my—”

Alexia cut you off with an amused smirk. “We’ve talked about this, cariño.”

“No, you’ve talked about logistics,” you shot back, sitting cross-legged beside her. “I’ve talked about how I want a baby, like, yesterday.”

She sighed, setting the iPad down. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying it’s a big decision. And with everything we have going on—your work, my schedule—it’s not the right time.”

“Then I’ll carry!” you declared, your voice rising with excitement. “You can keep playing, and I’ll do all the hard parts. It’s perfect!”

Alexia blinked at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve… really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“For months,” you said earnestly, grabbing her hand. “I don’t care about logistics or timing. I just know I want to do this with you.”

Her gaze softened, but there was still hesitation. “I’m not against it, amor. I just want to make sure we’re ready. Both of us.”

You groaned, flopping backward into her lap. “If you won’t listen to me, I’ll get backup.”

Alexia frowned. “What does that mean?”



————————

It meant enlisting Mapi and Ingrid.

“Finally!” Mapi said when you brought up your idea at training. She threw her hands in the air dramatically. “I’ve been telling Alexia for years she needs to let loose a little. Having a baby is perfect.”

“Right?” you said, clutching Mapi’s arm. “Imagine her as a mamá. So nurturing, so responsible—”

“And terrifying,” Mapi added, smirking. “Disciplining kids with that captain energy? Iconic.”

Ingrid chimed in from beside her. “Honestly, we’re on board. Do it, and we’ll be the godparents.”

“You’d have to fight Mariona for it,” you teased.

Mapi scoffed, draping an arm over Ingrid’s shoulder. “Please. I’m already the cool tía. It’s a done deal.”

Ingrid smiled softly, giving you a nudge. “Besides, we think you’re for perfect carrying the baby. You’re already glowing just talking about it.”

“You get it,” you said dramatically, pointing at Ingrid like she’d solved world hunger. “Why can’t Alexia see it?”

“Oh, she does,” Mapi said knowingly. “She’s just pretending to be logical about it. She’ll come around. Trust me.”

—————————

The breakthrough came at a team barbecue, thanks to Ingrid and Mapi’s nephew, little Liam, who’d stolen your heart the moment you met him.

“You’re so perfect,” you cooed, holding him close as he gurgled in your arms. “The cutest baby ever.”

Across the yard, Alexia watched you from a distance. Mapi elbowed her lightly, smirking. “You’re staring, capi. You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Alexia muttered, though her gaze softened as she watched you bounce Liam gently.

“You’re thinking about it, though,” Ingrid said, stepping up beside them.

Alexia sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”

“You’re overthinking,” Mapi interrupted. “Classic Alexia. Look, you’re already a leader. A protector. It’s who you are. Being a mom? You’d be incredible. And (Y/N)? She’s ready. You can see it in her face.”

Alexia didn’t answer, but her thoughtful expression spoke volumes.

Later, as you cradled Liam, Alexia finally approached.

“Look at him,” you said, smiling as Liam giggled and reached for her. “He’s perfect. And soon, he’ll have a little friend. Isn’t that right, Ale?”

Alexia raised a brow. “What?”

“Our baby!” you explained, beaming. “He’s gonna have a friend, and they’ll grow up together, and it’ll be so cute.”

Alexia reached out hesitantly, letting Liam grab her finger. She froze, visibly melting at the tiny hand gripping hers. Mapi and Ingrid exchanged smug looks from across the yard.

Alexia sighed, her voice quiet. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grinning. “Come on, Ale. Let’s do it. I’ll carry, you’ll be the hot football mum, and Mapi and Ingrid are already fighting to be the godparents.”

“We’re winning,” Mapi called from nearby, raising a beer.

Alexia laughed softly, shaking her head. “Fine.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Fine?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at your stunned expression. “But we’re doing this properly. No rushing.”

“Whatever you say, mamá,” you teased, setting Liam in his stroller before throwing your arms around her. “Let’s go make a baby!”

“That’s… not how it works,” she said, pulling back slightly.

“Oh, right,” you said, blushing. “I knew that.”

Her laughter was warm as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to see you glowing, amor. And for the record… Mapi and Ingrid are not automatically the godparents.”

“We’ll see about that!” Mapi shouted, earning another laugh from both of you.

As Alexia’s hand rested gently on your stomach, you knew everything was about to change. But for the first time, it felt like a change you were both ready for.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[caitified]

Do a fic for when Kate discovered that her wife was pregnant and how she told everyone of the team, you could also talk about how was the pregnancy

baby

kate martin x reader

warnings: ivf and pregnancy! going back in time a bit for those who have read my other kate family stories.

kate’s hands trembled slightly as she held the test in front of her, her wide eyes darting between the little screen and your face. you couldn’t quite tell if the tears forming in her eyes were from joy, shock, or a mixture of both.

you had been waiting for her to get home from practice all day, your nerves building with each passing hour. the positive test had been sitting in your pocket, burning a hole through the fabric as you tried to focus on anything other than the massive news you were about to share.

kate had barely walked through the door when you blurted, “i need to tell you something.”

her forehead creased in concern as she kicked off her sneakers. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you shook your head quickly, stepping closer and pulling the test out of your pocket. “no, nothing’s wrong. actually, everything’s perfect.”

her eyes darted down to the object in your hand, and for a moment, she froze. “is that…?”

you nodded, unable to hold back the tears that welled in your eyes. “kate, we did it. i’m pregnant.”

kate’s jaw dropped, her bag slipping from her shoulder to the floor. “oh my god,” she whispered, reaching out to take the test from you, her fingers brushing yours.

“it’s real,” you murmured, your voice shaky but full of awe.

kate let out a breathless laugh, staring at the test as though it were the most precious thing in the world. then she dropped it onto the counter and pulled you into her arms, holding you as tightly as she could. she buried her face in the crook of your neck, her body shaking with a mixture of laughter and tears.

“we’re having a baby,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against your skin.

you felt tears prick at your own eyes as you clung to her. “we’re having a baby.”

it had been months of waiting, hoping, and holding your breath, and now it was real. you were pregnant with your daughter, a miracle born from countless doctor’s appointments, late-night conversations, and unwavering support from kate every step of the way.

kate finally pulled back to look at you, her face lit with a smile so bright it made your heart ache. “you’re incredible,” she said, cupping your face in her hands. “i don’t even know how to put into words how much i love you.”

“you don’t have to,” you replied, leaning into her touch. “just love our little girl as much as you love me.”

kate laughed, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “she’s already got my whole heart, just like her mom.”

you both stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other and the overwhelming joy of what was to come. when kate finally pulled you toward the couch, settling in with you wrapped in her arms, she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“we have to tell the team,” she said, with you curled up against her.

you groaned, hiding your face in her shoulder. “do we have to tell everyone? you know they’re never going to let us hear the end of it.”

kate chuckled, stroking your hair. “babe, they’re going to be so excited. plus, it’s going to get out eventually, and i’d rather they hear it from us than from some random gossip site.”

you sighed, knowing she was right. “fine. but you’re doing most of the talking.”

“deal,” kate agreed with a grin.

🫂🫂🫂

the next day, kate gathered her las vegas aces teammates at the team facility, promising there was “big news” to share. the group was buzzing with curiosity, and you could feel your nerves mounting as everyone settled in.

“alright, everyone,” kate started, standing at the front of the room with her arm around you. “we’ve got something pretty exciting to share.”

a’ja was the first to pipe up, her grin mischievous. “you two finally getting a dog?”

“better,” kate replied, her smile widening as she glanced at you.

the room went quiet, everyone hanging on her next words. kate took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“we’re having a baby.”

for a moment, the room was completely silent. then, chaos erupted.

cheers, squeals, and excited chatter filled the air as the team surged forward, wrapping the two of you in hugs and bombarding you with questions.

“when did you find out?” “how far along are you?” “oh my god, is it a boy or a girl?”

kate fielded the questions with ease, her hand never leaving yours as she proudly shared the news.

“it’s a girl,” she said, her voice full of pride. “our little girl.”

the team melted at that, and a’ja immediately started brainstorming baby names while kelsey demanded that she would be the cool aunt.

amidst all the excitement, you caught kate’s eye, and she gave you a look that said everything she didn’t need to say out loud.

thanks for reading! requests are open and feel free to give me ideas for their family.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 1)

Contains: mean Daemon, mentions of words like slut and whore

Wordcount: ~3.54k

Masterlist of this story

114 AC (Maera is 17 years old)

Maera nervously bit at her thumb.

It was a good kind of nervous though. Not the kind when she attended a feast and some lord wanted to dance with her and she feared to stumble over her own feet. It was the happy kind. The kind when she couldn't wait for something to happen.

The sky was bluer than it had been for a long time and perhaps it was a sign from the gods. Maera's eyes were darting over the sky searching for the little dot that she had been forced to watch leave three years ago and now finally, after all this time she knew that she got to see it again.

During the past years she sometimes had found herself looking up at the sky in hopes that the dot would magically appear again. That Daemon would surprise the whole court and King's Landing with his sudden arrival on Caraxes but it hadn't happened. Three years weren't a particulary long time but for a litte girl it was the world.

Maera clearly remembered what it had been like after her uncle had left. She had fallen into a hole, some sort of numb and grey state where she just wouldn't smile or dance or sing or even eat. Nothing seemed exciting anymore with Daemon gone and Maera spent hours just staring at her ceiling while trying to find a purpose in anything she did.

Without her uncle her life had become boring and dreary and her father and also the other members of the small council had felt concerned because the previously joyful and lively princess had grown into a quiet and cold girl. Over time in the loneliness of her chambers a deep fury shooting at Daemon and her father had grown.

Obviously Maera knew that her uncle hadn't had a chance when he was sent away to fight at the stepstones and yet she felt neglected and hurt. How could he just leave her? How couldn't he sense how bad she was feeling and didn't come to get her? And she didn't even want to start with her father. The king had taken from her what was most precious to her and she was determined to let him feel how much it bothered her. She only gave him short answers, angrily flashed her eyes at him every time he wanted to tell her what to do and disobeyed him at any given chance. Maera had become bitter and sour and indifferent to what happened around her.

And yet right now was the first time in months that she felt a warmth inside of her belly because Daemon would come back today. She knew that things wouldn't be the same. Their distance over the last years led to several changes in Maera's feelings towards Daemon. She knew that she couldn't hide her hurt even once he was back and his absence had also given the girl a lot of time to think about their relationship and over time Maera had started to feel that her love for him had developed into a plain uncle-niece relationship. It was like a candle.

During her childhood Daemon had lit this candle and made it burn for him. Then he had left so that candle had gone out which had left Maera in coldness and darkness. And so while the candle was still beautiful to look at it simply wasn't the same and never would be. Maera appreciated the candle for what it was but nothing more.

And yet she of course couldn't wait to see her uncle again after these three painful years. It was only noon and Lord Envor had predicted his arrival for the late afternoon but Maera was already at the dragonpit and desperately searched the sky. She had to wait for another 2 hours until there was finally a dark spot in the sky. By now her thumb was bloody from all the nibbling but Maera couldn't care less. She just felt her heart beating fast and relentlessly bit her lip and then Caraxes became bigger and bigger before her eyes.

It was no surprise that she was the only person here to welcome him back because though his long absence most people in court still either feared or dispised the rogue prince. Maera couldn't hide a smile now because Caraxes had landed and she could spot the familiar armour and helmet with his silver hair blown in the wind.

"Uncle.", she shouted though not sure if he could hear her from that far away.

But it didn't matter anyway because he had spotted her and climbed off his dragon with a wide smile as well. He removed his helmet and Maera was already on her way to run towards him. It was overwhelming, surreal to see him again now because the girl had dreamed of a situation like this a million times during the past years and now it actually happened. It was difficult to process but right now Maera tried to stay in the moment and savour it.

She ran towards him and then jumped in his arms. Daemon chuckled quietly against her hair while wrapping his arms around her back so she wouldn't fall down. For a moment Maera was too emotional and overwhelmed to say anything to him so they stood like that in silence until she felt him caress her hair which brought her back to reality in some way.

"I'm soooo glad, uncle.", she said, or better nearly whispered and her words were additionally muffled by his shoulder and yet he understood them.

"Me too, little girl, me too. We haven't seen each other in quite a while, have we?"

Maera shook her head and then pulled away to look at Daemon. His hair was a little shorter now but aside from that he pretty much looked the same. Dirt was covering his armor and a bit of his skin as well but it was nothing a good and long bath couldn't fix. A wave of happiness flooded Maera's system all of a sudden and she tightly held him which her uncle noticed.

"Really? You missed your favourite uncle that much? You're probably the only one who's happy to see me, love."

She grinned and then grabbed his arm.

"Let's go inside. Father probably wants to see you."

"Does he though?", Daemon asked with one of his eyebrows lifted but Maera determindely nodded.

"Of course. You have to tell us all about your time at the stepstones. Father told me how bravely you fought."

~~~~~~~~~~

Maera, Daemon, Aegon and Viserys spent the afternoon lazily eating and drinking in the gardens. Daemon told them about his past three years and though there was a tension between him and his brother in the beginning, soon it felt a lot like many years ago. And yet Maera could feel that something had shifted between her and her uncle. She still admired Daemon of course but when she was younger she perhaps had been in love with him a little, a feeling that had vanished over the time.

They had a great time though and Maera hadn't smiled that much in months. Even Viserys seemed relaxed and so the afternoon tea turned into supper and then the sun had set and Maera couldn't help but yawn open-mouthed.

"Niece.", Daemon warned her and she closed her mouth at once.

"Forgive me.", she said and her uncle nodded approvingly.

"But I'm really tired and I think I would like to go to bed.", Maera then spoke.

Viserys nodded and so the girl stood up to leave the table with her brother Aegon. Once they were gone Daemon sighed and leaned back in his chair his legs crossed. His brother relaxed as well and waited for Daemon to say something but he didn't so Viserys started.

"Well… I'm glad you're safely back. Because though I know you don't believe me when I say this, I didn't exile you because I wanted you gone forever."

He wanted to get a reaction from his brother, see where they were standing but once again Daemon didn't do him the favor. He didn't even look at his brother and had his eyes fixed on a tree while having his arms crossed in front of him.

"Daemon.", Viserys tried again but he just chuckled and then finally turned to lay his eyes on the king.

"I wish to wed Maera."

Viserys' jaw dropped and he laughed in disbelief. "What?"

"I want her as my wife. She is of age now, I'm back from my exile and we can keep the blood line pure."

Viserys shook his head and still seemed like he couldn't believe his words.

"What? You can't be serious. No, of course you will not."

Daemon looked cold in his expression, like he didn't care about the refusal. "Why not? It would be in tradition of our house."

"You… No! I don't have to explain myself. You wouldn't be good for her. It's that easy."

It scared Viserys in some way how Daemon didn't even look angry or disappointed but smugly smirked to himself. It made his words, the words of the king seem less powerful.

"How… I mean why are you even suggesting this out of the blue? You haven't seen her in years and now you come back with the desire to wed her?"

Daemon rolled his eyes. "As I said. She's of age now.", he hissed.

Viserys shook his head and turned his head away. How could he think he would agree to that? There had been a reason why Viserys had sent his brother away and he was pretty sure that Daemon knew it as well. He hadn't been blind to the bond between his brother and Maera when they were younger and he had watched it with fear.

In the beginning Viserys had been relieved that his daughter had found a person she trusted and a companion in his brother but soon he was rather worried. Because he knew his brother so well and he knew what a violant and dangerous person Daemon could be. Him so near to his only daughter…? And her having such an affection for her uncle? They had spent almost every second together and so Viserys had found that he didn't have a choice but to separate them. He hadn't even been sure what he feared would happen but he didn't want to find out either. And now this. Of course he couldn't allow it.

While still looking away Viserys heard his brother get up from his chair and move away from him. Only when his back faced him did the king glance at him and watched him leave the gardens like a shadow flitting away into the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~

Viserys nervously tapped with his finger on the table in front of him.

He hummed to himself, chewed on his buttom lip while waiting for his daughter. He had sent Ser Tommen 15 minutes ago and yet there was no sign of Maera. Viserys just hoped that she wasn't with Daemon.

Then finally the door sprang open and Ser Tommen bowed his head while Maera walked into the room with a curious look on her face.

"Father. You want to speak with me?"

The king nodded and gestured her to sit down next to him which she gladly did.

"Where have you been? Ser Tommen seemed to have searched for you for quite some time."

His daughter smiled softly. "I went to fly with uncle. You know I haven't seen Caraxes in so long as well so… We were very careful, I promise!"

Viserys nodded graciously but felt an uneasiness inside of him. It was as he had feared but he had planned to put an end to this at once.

"Yes. Fine. This is not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Maera adjusted in her chair and thoughtfully bit her lip. "What is it?"

Her father cleared his throat and just hoped that Maera would react to this with reason and not let herself get swapped away with emotion.

"You're 17 now and you know that we have spoken about marriage already." Maera watched him with small eyes, sensing in what direction this was heading.

"I want you to marry Lord Brandeth Lannister."

Her eyes fluttered. "What?"

"He is a fine match and he has already expressed his desire to take you to wife."

Maera's face was drawn with desperation. "No father, please. Please, not him. He is way too old, please."

As much as it hurt the king to see his daughter begging him like that, he had to remain hard now, for her own sake.

"I'm sure you will get along well. Give him a chance, Maera. He has proven himself loyal to the crown and to our family and I know he will treat you nicely."

But Maera seemed shocked, completely swamped with her father's choice of her betrothed and stammered her next words.

"B-But… n-no. I don't want t-to."

She was close to tears now and Viserys exhaled feeling like this wasn't the way he had planned things at all.

"My dear. Think about it please. I'm sure over time you will be able to accept and appreciate this union."

"I don't have a choice anyway.", Maera pressed and turned her head away so her father couldn't see the tears running down her face.

"But if you are willing to be unbiased you might…"

He was cut off by his daughter who abruptly got off her chair and flashed her eyes at him.

"I won't forgive you this.", Maera hissed and each of these syllables broke Viserys' heart.

"Maera please.", he breathed but she was already halfway out the door and didn't hear it.

Maera almost ran into Daemon once she turned around a corner. Her plan was to directly head to her rooms and preferably lock herself inside for the rest of her life but now that Daemon blocked the corridor she had no choice but to glare at him and tried her best to hide her fury. But of course her uncle knew her too well to overlook it.

"Niece. You look upset."

She blinked a few times and rubbed over her eyes and then gulped loudly.

"What is it, sweetling?", Daemon asked softly and Maera exhaled in an attempt to calm her temper. 'Who cared?', she thought. He would find out anyway.

"My father. He… He just told me he intends to marry me to Brandeth Lannister."

Her voice has gotten more quiet with these words and the last word was barely audible and yet Daemon had understood.

"Oh.", he made with lifted eyebrows. "That's unfortunate."

She nodded and new tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. "I don't want to marry him, I don't want to get to know him, I just…. I just want to do what I want."

Her uncle sighed deeply and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"And what is it you want, Maera?"

She hesitated. Was it clever to tell Daemon what dominated, controlled her mind at the moment? What influenced her every decision? He sensed her uncertainty and a gentle smile built on his lips.

"Why do you despise this union so much, little one?"

Maera's eyes scampered over his face as though she tried to find out whether Daemon would support her after she made her confession or look down at her. But she couldn't find anything so she anxiously scratched at her wrists and dropped her gaze.

"I-I… I don't want to marry him…. Because there is someone else I would like to marry."

A wide smirk formed on Daemon's face and he came a little closer. His finger lifted her chin so she had to look at her uncle.

"And who's that, mhm?"

Once again she hesitated and awaited if someone else would magically appear and answer this question for her but the gods were cruel and left her alone in this horrible situation.

"I wish to wed Ser Harwin Strong.", Maera whispered and the finger below her chin dropped at once.

"What?", Daemon fizzled and now her eyes searched for his by herself. "You wish to wed this idiotic cunt?"

The girl fearfully took a step back because she hadn't expected this kind of reaction from him. She had expected him to either advise her not to fight her father's choice and accept the match or support her in her desire. But not that he would insult Ser Harwin.

Ser Harwin… What a man he truly was. He had been by Maera's side for quite some time now and ever since Daemon had left for the stepstones the two of them had gotten to know each other better. That had been perhaps the only good thing that had happened during these three years. Ser Harwin had accompaigned her while she was out hunting, had guarded her door and had turned a blind eye when Maera had sneaked into her chambers late at night because she had forgotten the time while reading an ancient book in the library.

They had started to speak more frequently and then things developped into a friendship and a few months later Maera had understood that she fancied the young knight. He was gorgeous with long and thick brown hair, had a gentle and wide smile and was tall and strong like a real warrior. And the most important thing was, he understood her in ways that no one else was capable of. Long before Maera had thought that Daemon was the only one who could but after he had left she had yearned for that very thing again and had found it in Harwin.

She knew that it was foolish to think that she could actually marry him just like that. He was still a knight of the king's guard, sworn to protect her and her family but… Maera couldn't help but dream sometimes about what it would be like to wed him. And she had thought that from all people her beloved uncle would be able to at least understand her to some extent. Hadn't he been the one who was also a victim of her father's ongoing lectures about tradition and courtesy? She had thought that Daemon didn't give a damn about customs as well. Maera now stared at him with big eyes.

"Y-Yes. I… We get along very well."

Daemon scoffed. "The gods save you and your bad taste."

Her eyes glistened because why did he act that way? Why was he mocking her? Maera felt an anger growing inside of her and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Why are you speaking that way? Ser Harwin is a fine and honourable man who lives up to his duties and protects my father."

"An honourable man?", Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You contradict yourself, little one. I don't think it's honourable to give up your vows to be intimate with the king's maiden daughter. But I may be wrong. What do I know about honour, after all?"

Her jaw dropped and her cheeks reddened with shame.

"H-He hasn't been intimate with me, uncle. I swear it to you. We've only talked and… and laughed together but n-never in my life would I… I would never let a man d-do… this with me b-before we get married."

Daemon chuckled quietly but it sounded evil and mean.

"I don't believe you. I only had to take a look at the two of you all comfortably talking in the yard today in the morrow. His eyes. He looked at you the way someone looks at a girl who has spread her legs for him."

Maera brought her hand over her mouth and tears welled in her eyes.

"How can you say something like that, uncle?"

But Daemon still wasn't done and observed his niece angrily. "I think you're a little whore. Who couldn't satisfy her profane desires and has let someone sully her before her wedding. Do you think some noble lord would marry someone like that?"

Maera was crying now and was in disbelief over her uncle's words.

"He didn't touch me, uncle, I swear it! Please, you have to believe me." She had her eyes widened and felt panick controlling her thoughts.

"I'd never – You know that I would never…"

But Daemon scoffed and ignored how desperate his niece felt. Instead his face tensed and Daemon grinded his teeth.

"You should feel ashamed of yourself. It's not fit for a young lady to throw herself at an anoited knight of the king's guard. Have I not taught you anything?"

Maera sobbed and grabbed her uncle's arm in an attempt to show him that she was telling the truth.

"Please uncle. Please, it wasn't like that. I only wanted to… He is a good friend."

But Daemon didn't pay any attention to her pleas and removed her hand from his arm.

"Shut up. You're a slut and I do hope you're going to reflect your disgusting behaviour."

With these words the rogue prince angrily flashed his eyes at her one last time and then turned around to leave a crying girl behind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss

[trixy812]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ You have all my support ɞ˚‧｡⋆ pt 4

{Nanami Kento x reader}

ִֶָ࣪☾. Content: nanami x reader, fluff, college!Nanami, college!Reader, that's what you get when you read shojo!

ִֶָ࣪☾. Synopsis: It was inevitable. Kento Nanami was leaving the jujutsu world.

ִֶָ࣪☾. AN: omg! this is really long! i hope you guys don't get bored with this part! as I am writing this series I get so excited, i am so proud of this and I hope you guys are enjoying. I am definetely planning to write more omakes for this series :) please let me know what you think!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

The soft glow of the sunset filtered through the curtains of your room, bathing the space in a warmth that felt nothing short of comforting. Nanami sat at the edge of your bed, a book in one hand while the other absentmindedly ran through your hair. Your head rested on his lap as you pretended to watch TV, though your attention was far from it. It was one of those rare, quiet moments where just being together was more than enough.

Suddenly, Nanami broke the silence.

“What will you do after graduation?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. He already knew the answer—you’d discussed it countless times. You’d take a semester off to work full-time and save money before pursuing your dream of studying nursing. So it was clear he wasn’t asking for himself. This was his way of starting a conversation about his own future.

Turning your head slightly to look up at him, you smiled gently and asked,

“What about you, Kento? What do you want to do after graduation?”

Nanami carefully closed the book, placing it aside with precision, and let out a deep sigh. The weight of it was palpable in the way his chest rose and fell.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” he began, but stopped short, leaving his words hanging in the air.

Alarmed by the serious look on his face, you sat up, removing your head from his lap. Until that moment, you hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying on his shoulders. A wave of guilt washed over you. How could I not notice? I’m supposed to be supporting him…

Nanami stared at his hands, fiddling with the corner of his book as if searching for courage.

“I’m not sure if I want to remain a sorcerer,” he admitted finally.

Now it was your turn to comfort him. You reached out to gently run your fingers through his hair, hoping to offer some solace.

“Why not?” you asked softly.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if the act might make explaining easier.

“Because the world of sorcery is rotten,” he said bluntly. “They use us. I saw what happened to Haibara, and I can’t stop thinking that if I stay, I’ll end up the same. Or worse, someone else will suffer because I wasn’t strong enough.”

He paused, looking out the window, searching for answers in the horizon.

“And then there’s Geto…” he continued. “I know what he did was wrong, but I can’t blame him. Honestly, I understand why he chose that path. This system is broken, y/n. Every time I return from a mission, I wonder if I’m making any difference at all—or just delaying the inevitable.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Nanami rarely opened up about his feelings, always so stoic and composed. Seeing him like this, raw and vulnerable, made your heart ache.

“Kento…” you whispered, struggling to find the right words.

“I want your honest opinion,” he said, meeting your eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation settle around you.

“Alright,” you said, “but don’t blame me for being straightforward.”

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you finally spoke, letting your emotions guide you.

“I don’t think you should stay,” you said firmly. “It’s not fair. Why should you keep giving your life to a system that doesn’t even value the people who fight for it?”

Nanami looked at you, surprised by the intensity of your tone, but didn’t interrupt.

“Look at what they did to my parents,” you continued, your voice rising slightly. “They fined them for using my technique—to help people! What do you think they’ll do to you, someone they see as nothing more than a tool? They’ll drain you dry, Kento, until there’s nothing left. And then what?”

He swallowed hard, still silent.

“You’re incredibly smart,” you said, your voice softening. “You don’t need this. You could go to university, study something you’re passionate about. You always talk about books. Maybe literature. Anything. But staying there? For what? For who?”

You cupped his cheek, gently turning his face so he would look at you.

“Your opinion isn’t completely objective, is it?” he asked quietly, a small smile playing at his lips.

You glanced away, feeling exposed.

“No,” you admitted. “It’s not. I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered. “And if you stay there, I feel like I will. Sooner or later.”

Nanami was quiet for a long moment, your words clearly weighing on him. Finally, he nodded slightly.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But… it’s not an easy decision.”

You leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping to convey what words couldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” you whispered. “But you don’t have to make it alone. I’m here, Kento. Always.”

Though he didn’t say it aloud, the look in his eyes told you that those words meant more to him than you could ever imagine.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

The energy of the day buzzed in the air. Flowers, speeches, and the chatter of excited students filled the auditorium. As you stood among your classmates, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd for the blonde boy you loved.

Nanami wasn’t at his own graduation. He’d deliberately skipped it, knowing the ceremony held no meaning for him. But your graduation? That was different.

When you returned home with your diploma in hand, you found Nanami waiting at your doorstep with a small chocolate cake. It was simple, understated, but what left you speechless were the words written in vanilla frosting—“Congratulations”—spelled out in your parents’ native language.

“Kento… Did you make this?” you asked, your voice filled with emotion.

He nodded, holding the cake with pride.

“I knew you’d like it,” he said calmly. “And I thought your parents would appreciate it even more.”

Your mother emerged from the house at that moment, gasping as she took in the sight.

“What a beautiful gesture!” she exclaimed, pulling Nanami into a warm hug.

Your father smiled, though he added teasingly, “It better taste as good as it looks, young man.”

“Dad…” you scolded, embarrassed, as Nanami’s typically composed expression faltered just slightly, a faint redness creeping up his ears.

The evening was filled with celebration. Your mother had prepared a feast, the dining table overflowing with traditional dishes.

Nanami leaned over as you poured him a glass of water. “Does she always cook this much for occasions like this?”

You smiled. “My mom thinks food is the best way to show love.”

As the meal progressed, your father set down his glass of wine and looked at you seriously.

“y/n, we’ll support whatever you decide,” he began. “But are you sure about nursing? In Japan, nurses don’t earn as much as they should. Have you thought about studying medicine instead? You’d earn more, and you’d never have to worry about anything.”

You rolled your eyes, placing your utensils down.

“Dad, we’ve talked about this. I want to be a nurse. I don’t care about the money—it’s my dream. Didn’t you always tell me to follow my dreams?”

Your parents exchanged a glance, and you could almost hear their unspoken thoughts: We're going to have to keep giving her money for the rest of our lives.

It was then that Nanami, who had been quiet the entire time, set his glass of water down with a deliberate clink.

“I have something to say,” he began, his tone steady and commanding attention.

Your parents straightened in their chairs, and you turned to him curiously.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said firmly. “I’m leaving the world of sorcery. I’m walking away.”

Your eyes widened in shock as his words sank in.

“Are you serious?” you exclaimed, a grin spreading across your face. “Kento, that’s amazing—”

“Wait, really?” your mother interjected, her voice tinged with concern. “But Kento… are you sure? It’s such a big change.”

“It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time,” he admitted. “It’s what’s best for me.”

Your father dramatically placed a hand on his forehead. “No sorcery? Our future grandchildren won’t find interest in it. It’ll be tough for them with parents in such… ordinary professions.”

Your face burned with embarrassment.

“Dad! We’ve only been dating a few weeks!” you blurted out.

Your mother laughed softly. “To us, it’s been two and a half years,” she teased.

Nanami looked down at his plate, but not before you caught the faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Can you guys not?” you groaned, but they only laughed harder.

After dinner, you and Nanami went for a walk to clear your heads. The night breeze was cool and refreshing, the sky clear and dotted with stars.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “what do you want to study in college?”

He paused for a moment before answering.

“Finance,” he said.

You stopped in your tracks, looking at him like he’d just suggested becoming an astronaut.

“Finance? What happened to literature? You love books!”

He shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips.

“I also love making smart decisions,” he said, slipping his hand into yours. "I want to make sure you never lack anything," he explained calmly. "I want you to be able to follow your dreams without worrying about anything else."

Your cheeks flushed as you processed his words.

"Also," he continued, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, "I liked what your parents said about grandkids."

You were left breathless, warmth rising from your neck to your ears.

"Kento..." you whispered, unsure of how to respond.

"I imagine a future with you," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'll work hard, earn enough to retire young, and you can keep working if you want. You won't have to worry about the details—"

You silenced him with a sudden kiss, your heart pounding.

"That doesn’t matter now," you said softly. "I just want to be with you."

And under that starry night sky, with his fingers intertwined with yours, Nanami knew he had made the right decision.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

Nanami's lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. A message from Gojo.

Nanamiiiii,

Even though your coldness is unbearable, I’m going to miss you. But I’d rather miss you than see everything go to hell, so go ahead and live your boring college life. I’ll handle the dirty work (as always).

P.S. When you get tired of “normal” and want to come back to the interesting side of life, I’ll be here. But I doubt someone as bitter as you can handle how much fun it is working with me.

P.P.S. At least tell me that girl’s worth it. How is it we still haven’t gone out, the three of us?"

Nanami sighed and set his phone aside. He could read between the lines: "I don���t want you to end up like Geto." Though Gojo expressed himself in his uniquely ridiculous way, his words reminded Nanami why he had made the right decision.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, noticing his distant expression.

He shook his head, bringing his attention back to you. "Nothing important. Just Gojo being Gojo."

You leaned closer, curious, but before you could insist, you exclaimed excitedly, "Oh! I got the waitress job!"

Nanami raised an eyebrow. "Full-time?"

"Yes," you replied enthusiastically. "Once we start college, I want to find my own place and live alone."

His expression shifted, growing slightly more serious. After a few moments of silence, he said, "What if we lived together?"

Your smile faltered. "Kento, that’s really sweet of you, but no."

Nanami frowned, clearly affected by your response. "Why not? I thought… it’d make things easier for both of us. We’d be together."

You took his hands in yours, smiling at him gently. "I want to know what it’s like to live alone. I need that space to grow as a person. It’s important to me."

Nanami nodded, though his eyes held a flicker of sadness. "I understand. But I won’t blame you if you change your mind."

Six months later, you both started college. Nanami had changed his appearance—his hair was shorter and slicked back, and he often wore dress shirts and jeans. His mature, polished style didn’t go unnoticed.

In the hallways, you noticed the stares he received, from both women and men.

"They’re looking at you again," you whispered, slightly annoyed, as you walked together to the library.

He glanced at you with a faint smile. "Are you jealous?"

"No, of course not," you replied, though your furrowed brow said otherwise. Still, you couldn’t help but feel proud. You knew that no matter how many looks he got, he was yours and yours alone.

Despite your busy schedules, exam weeks were always different. It had become a tradition to study together, either at your place or his.

Well, studying was the initial plan.

Night had fallen, and your apartment was quiet, save for the rustle of notes scattered on the floor, forgotten. You and Nanami were on the couch, completely absorbed in the moment. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his careful hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, messing it up, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He kissed you with a slow, deliberate intensity, as if trying to memorize every sensation. His lips moved with a restrained passion that felt ready to overflow at any moment.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you move far. His mouth trailed down to your neck, leaving a path of heated kisses that sent shivers through your body.

"Kento," you murmured, trying to sound firm, though your voice came out shaky. "We should be studying."

"I can’t focus," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and laden with desire. "Not when you’re this close."

You tried to pull away, but he cupped your face with both hands, gently guiding you to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with a mixture of tenderness and need that always left you defenseless.

"Let me stay like this a little longer," he confessed, his tone almost pleading.

You were just as lost in him—in the way his hands traced your back, slowly moving up to your shoulders, as if rediscovering you. His lips found yours again, this time with a softness that contrasted with the earlier intensity but was just as overwhelming.

"Kento," you tried again, with little conviction. "The exams…"

"I love the way you say my name," he whispered against your lips, a small smile forming. "There’s nothing more important than this right now."

His hands slid back to your waist, holding you with a firmness that made you feel both secure and deeply desired. You gave in to the moment, letting him guide you, feeling the weight of books and responsibilities melt away.

A soft gasp escaped your lips when he brushed your cheek, and the sound made him pause for just a moment. He looked at you, his expression now softened by overwhelming tenderness.

"Do you know what you make me feel?" he whispered, his voice barely audible but heavy with emotion.

"What?" you managed to ask, still trying to catch your breath.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment, as if anchoring himself in your presence. "That no matter how much time we have, I’ll always want more of you. It’ll never be enough."

Your hands caressed his face, tracing the lines of his jaw as you gazed at him with equal intensity. "I love you," you said, letting all your reservations fall away.

He kissed you again, this time softer, as if your words had soothed the fire within him—though only slightly.

Finally, you were the one to create some distance, though your body was still trembling. "Hey, handsome," you said with a nervous smile. "If we keep this up, we’re going to fail our exams."

He sighed with a faint smile, smoothing his hair. "Fine," he said with resignation. But before you could move, he added, "Though I want it on record that I’m against stopping."

Blushing, you began gathering the notes scattered on the floor. Nanami watched you, his gaze still full of adoration and desire. He couldn’t help but think how much he wished time would stop when you were like this, together.

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

The years passed quickly. Both of you graduated college. You found a job almost immediately at the hospital where you had completed your volunteering, excited to begin your specialty in palliative care.

Out of respect for Nanami, you decided not to use your cursed energy technique anymore. You knew he appreciated that gesture more than he let on.

Nanami, on the other hand, entered the world of finance and quickly excelled as a stockbroker. His success surprised no one; he was meticulous, efficient, and dedicated.

One sunny afternoon, Nanami invited you to look at apartments. He insisted it was "just for fun," now that he was considering moving closer to his office. You went along, thinking it would be a casual distraction from your routines, but as soon as you arrived, you were taken aback.

"This place is... incredible," you said, your eyes taking in the sleek, modern facade. "Are you sure this isn’t out of your budget?"

He gave you a faint smile, the kind he reserved for moments when he was about to surprise you. "Let’s go inside and see."

Stepping into the apartment, your eyes widened. The space was bright and open, with large windows that let in warm, natural light. The kitchen was modern, with impeccable finishes, and there was a spacious living area and a small balcony with a breathtaking view. You walked slowly, admiring every detail, while Nanami followed quietly, watching you intently.

Finally, you stopped at the balcony, gazing out at the city with a soft sigh. "It’s perfect. It’s… too perfect."

Nanami approached, resting a hand on the balcony doorframe. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," you admitted with a smile. "If this is what you’re looking for, I think you should go for it. It’s amazing."

He cleared his throat, clearly nervous—a rarity for him. "I want to get this place, but not just for me."

You turned to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Nanami slid his hands into his pockets, as if seeking something to steady himself. Then he looked up, his eyes locking onto yours. "I want us to live here together. You and me."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Nanami took a deep breath. "And this time, you can’t say no."

You frowned, confused, but before you could respond, he pulled a small black box from his pocket and opened it. Inside, a simple yet elegant ring sparkled in the golden light of the setting sun.

"Because I don’t just want us to live together," he said, his voice lower but steady. "I want to build a life with you. I want this to be our home. I want you to be my wife."

Your mouth fell open in a soft gasp, tears welling in your eyes. The silence stretched between you, not because words were lacking, but because the gravity of the moment spoke for itself.

"Will you marry me?"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

[kathlare]

into the spotlight

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie returns to the F1 paddock during the Miami Grand Prix, where emotions run high on and off the track. The buzz surrounding her appearance quickly takes a backseat to Lando's breakthrough moment on the circuit, leading to a cascade of intense feelings and public revelations. Against the backdrop of Miami's vibrant energy, a celebration transforms into a defining moment that shifts the dynamic between the two, marking a turning point in their relationship.

Wordcount: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff, smau, kinda suggestive content

May 5th, 2024 - Miami, FL

liked by drivetouamour, landoislife, and others

amelienation: Amelie has arrived at the paddock for the Miami Grand Prix alongside a friend and her sister, Stella! 💕 She’s here to support Checo, marking her first race appearance of the season. Looking stunning as always, can’t wait to see more of her this weekend! 🏎✨

View all 1,584 comments

fan1: She really said, "Let me slay Miami while casually supporting my bro-in-law." 🔥 → fan2: @fan1 Bro, imagine being this iconic.

f1fanatic32: She’s back in the paddock, and all is right in the world 🌎✨

latinaf1love: Supporting Checo like the queen she is! 🫶 → drivetoamour: @latinaf1love She’s the real MVP. Forget the drivers, I’m here for her.

amieobsessed: Imagine if she dates a driver… I’d die. 😭 → landoislife: @amieobsessed Bestie she’s too good for any of them. Let’s be real.

pinktarmac: Miami AND Amelie?? We’re eating good this week 🥵 → fastfamfan: @pinktarmac Forget the race, this is the main event.

lanmilsupremacy: She’s here supporting Checo... but you KNOW she’s gonna end up in Lando’s garage somehow 👀💅 → amelieupdates: @lanmilsupremacy Friends supporting friends, right? Totally innocent... 👀

landoobsessed: Imagine if Lando and Amelie were actually dating though... that would break the internet fr. 😍 → f1shipperzzz: @landoobsessed Literally waiting for that soft launch any day now 💀

miamilover99: If I see one picture of her and Lando together this weekend, I’m DONE. My heart can’t take it. 💔 → oscarfan45: @miamilover99 Same, but also... I’m refreshing Twitter every five seconds. 😭

oscarfan101: Y’all KNOW Lando’s gonna act suspicious all weekend now that she’s here. 😂 → landosimp23: @oscarfan101 The man’s gonna stutter through every interview, bet. 💀

hatersgonnahate: She’s only here for attention. Like, we get it, you’re famous.

landoismyman: She better not end up with anyone else on the grid. I’m still holding out for my otp. 🥹

--------------

The Miami sun was blazing, the roar of engines echoing through the circuit. Amelie stood in the Red Bull garage with her sister Stella, who was animatedly chatting with Checo's engineer. Amelie’s attention, however, was firmly fixed on the big screen in front of her, where the final laps of the race played out. Her heart was pounding in sync with the commentator's excited voice.

Lando was leading.

The McLaren driver, her Lando, was within grasp of his first-ever Grand Prix victory. She could barely breathe as she watched him expertly navigate the track, holding off Max Verstappen with a precision and calm that had the crowd on their feet.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, not this close to the action. Being in the McLaren garage would’ve raised suspicions, so she’d accepted Stella’s invitation to watch with Red Bull. But now, standing among strangers, the idea of keeping her emotions in check felt impossible.

When Lando crossed the finish line, the world seemed to stand still for a moment before erupting into chaos. The commentator’s voice cracked as he shouted, “Lando Norris takes his first-ever Formula 1 victory in Miami!”

Amelie’s knees buckled, tears streaming down her face before she even realized it. She brought her hands to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob, but the dam had broken.

—Oh my God,— she whispered, voice trembling.

Stella turned to her, a knowing smile on her lips. —Go.—

Amelie hesitated for only a second before bolting out of the garage. Her mind was a blur, her body moving on pure instinct as she weaved through the crowds and dodged security personnel. She barely registered the cheers or the sea of orange-clad fans.

She reached the pit lane just as Lando pulled into the designated spot, his car stopping amid a swarm of jubilant McLaren team members. Without thinking, she pushed her way through the cluster of orange uniforms, earning a few startled looks but no resistance.

The adrenaline of the moment was buzzing in her veins, her chest tight with excitement and raw emotion. Amelie didn’t think. She couldn’t think. All she could see was Lando, his helmet still on, his body emerging from the car as the pit crew celebrated around him.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, it drowned out the noise of the cheers from the crowd. She could feel the warmth of the Miami sun on her skin, but it all faded into the background as she pushed forward, her eyes locked on Lando. He was laughing, his face lit up with joy, but it was when he looked over and saw her that the world seemed to stop.

Lando’s expression shifted instantly from celebration to something softer, something intensely familiar. His eyes widened for just a second, and before anyone could stop him, he was pushing through the crowd, sprinting toward her.

Amelie couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know why she was crying or why she’d run here, but the second his arms wrapped around her, the tears didn’t stop.

Lando’s voice broke through the buzzing in her ears. —Ames, baby— he murmured, his hands cupping her face as he pulled her into him. His lips crashed into hers, not soft, but frantic, hungry, like he’d been waiting for this moment, just like her.

The kiss was everything. His lips were warm and familiar, tasting of the salt from sweat and the intense excitement of his victory. His arms were strong around her, his hands threading through her hair, holding her in place as if he couldn’t bear to let go. And, for a moment, neither of them cared who was watching.

The cameras were already there, catching every second, every desperate kiss, and the crowd erupted in cheers. But for Amelie and Lando, it was just the two of them in the middle of everything. She forgot the world around them entirely as she lost herself in the kiss, her hands trailing up his chest, pressing him closer.

When they pulled back, panting for air, their foreheads rested together, and Lando’s breath was unsteady. —Fuck, Ames, I thought you’d never do that.— He laughed, breathless, eyes wide with disbelief and joy.

Amelie laughed too, wiping the last of her tears away. She could hear the commotion behind them, the pit crew still cheering, but it felt distant. The only thing that mattered was this moment with him. —I didn’t plan this, Lan,— she admitted with a slight chuckle, her hands still resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Lando grinned, eyes soft but intense, and kissed her again, this time gentler. —Guess we’re out of the secret club now, huh?—

Before Amelie could respond, she was swept up in a wave of McLaren team members, all clapping him on the back, lifting him into the air in celebration.

Amelie watched, still caught up in the whirlwind of emotion, as Lando was carried by his team, laughter and cheers filling the air. The reality of the moment hit her again. He’d won. He’d really won. And now, everyone knew they were together.

She wiped away another tear, trying to steady herself as she made her way toward the podium area, keeping her eyes on Lando the whole time. She couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe she was watching him, the man who’d been her best friend and then something more, up there on the top step, holding the trophy with the biggest smile on his face.

When Lando finally stood on the podium, her heart swelled with pride. The champagne sprayed, the crowd screamed, and he held the trophy high above his head, looking out at the fans. But all Amelie could see was him, her Lando, standing there, shining in the spotlight. And her tears didn’t stop.

She couldn’t hold back anymore.

Her hands shook as she watched him, the sound of the crowd fading into the background. This was real. This moment, this victory, it was everything they��d both been working for, even if it wasn’t the way they’d planned it. She was crying now, openly, the tears streaming down her face as she clapped and cheered, completely unable to stop the wave of emotion flooding over her.

When the ceremony ended, Amelie stayed back, her heart still racing. She didn’t want to crowd him, not yet, not when he was still caught up in the media frenzy.

She waited outside the McLaren Team Hub, pacing anxiously as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The cool evening air of Miami was a welcome relief after the scorching heat of the day, but Amelie couldn’t bring herself to relax.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, but she ignored it, not wanting to be distracted. All she could think about was Lando, and how she’d kissed him, and how this moment—his first win, their first kiss in front of everyone—would change everything.

Finally, she saw him. The door to the team hub opened, and there he was, looking fresh and clean, dressed in a McLaren team shirt, his hair still damp from the shower but that familiar cocky grin on his face.

Amelie felt her heart skip a beat as he caught sight of her. His grin softened instantly, and he walked toward her, his strides long and confident.

—Hey, Ames,— Lando said with a teasing smile, his voice still thick with emotion from the day. —You look stunning. But are you okay? You’ve been crying like a little baby.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across her face. —Shut up, Lan. You won your first race. Of course, I’m emotional.—

He pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a sweet kiss. The world seemed to disappear as she kissed him back, her hands trailing up to cup his face.

When they pulled away, Lando rested his forehead against hers. —Let’s get to the hotel, yeah? I’m ready to celebrate properly.—

—Are you now?— she teased, but the grin on her face was wide.

As they made their way to the hotel, Amelie’s mind couldn’t help but drift to the after-party. They were both ecstatic, both a little tipsy from the excitement and the lingering effects of the champagne. But when they arrived at the party, the energy shifted.

Lando was surrounded by people congratulating him, and Amelie found herself sticking close to him. She hated the way some of the other girls kept throwing flirtatious glances his way, their fingers brushing his arm just a little too long, trying to get his attention.

But it didn’t bother her as much as it would have in the past. Because the second those girls leaned in, Lando would turn to her, his eyes only on her.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer, her lips pressing against his ear. —You’re not going anywhere, Lan.—

He chuckled, nipping at her ear in return. —Never, Ames.—

As the night wore on, the party’s energy seemed to intensify. The music was loud, and the lights were flashing in every direction. But amidst the crowd, Lando and Amelie were like a little world of their own. They danced together, laughing and teasing, their bodies moving in sync to the beat. It was one of those nights where everything felt perfect, where the connection between them felt so natural, so easy.

Amelie felt the warmth of Lando's hand on her back as they danced, his touch sending electricity through her. The alcohol had loosened them both up, and their playful teasing grew a little bolder. Every time she laughed, Lando's eyes would light up, and every time she brushed her lips against his, his hands would find their way to her waist, pulling her even closer.

But she could feel the tension between them building—an energy that had been simmering under the surface for months, maybe longer. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the way his hands lingered on her body, the way their kisses had become more urgent as the night wore on.

At one point, Lando leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, his voice thick with desire. —You’re driving me crazy, Ames.—

Amelie shivered at the sound of his voice, her hands tracing the outline of his chest before sliding up to his neck. —Is that so?— she teased, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn’t deny the way he made her feel—the way his touch seemed to light her up from the inside out.

He smiled against her skin, pressing a kiss to her neck that made her pulse quicken. —Yeah,— he murmured, his lips brushing her jaw. —You’ve been killing me with those looks all night.—

Amelie laughed softly, but the sound was shaky, the heat in her chest turning into something more. She felt her heart race as she tilted her head back, giving him more access to her neck. —You’re such a flirt, Lan,— she whispered.

He chuckled against her skin, the sound vibrating through her. —Only for you, Ames,— he said, his voice low and raspy.

But as the night went on, Amelie couldn’t ignore the way her body responded to his closeness, the way every touch, every kiss felt more urgent, more desperate. There was a tension building, a hunger that neither of them had been able to ignore for too long.

Eventually, they found their way to a quieter corner of the venue, far from the noise of the party. Lando backed her up against a wall, his body pressing into hers as his lips crashed against hers once more. The kiss was heated, urgent, as though neither of them could wait any longer.

Amelie felt the heat of his hands on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his damp hair, tugging him closer. Every inch of her body seemed to crave him, and she could feel the same hunger in his every movement.

—Fuck, Ames…— Lando groaned against her lips, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her tightly as though he couldn’t get enough. Amelie’s breath hitched in her throat, and she pressed her body even closer to his, feeling the hard heat of him against her.

She pulled away just slightly, her eyes meeting his, her lips swollen from the kisses. —Lando,— she breathed, her voice trembling with the need building inside her. —I think we need to get out of here.—

He nodded without hesitation, his gaze dark and intense. —Yeah,— he said, his voice rough. —Let’s go.—

They didn’t even look back as they made their way out of the party, their hands intertwined, hearts pounding in their chests. Neither of them said anything, but the silence between them was filled with anticipation.

Once they reached his hotel room, the door slammed shut behind them, and it was as if the world outside didn’t exist anymore. Lando didn’t waste a second, pulling her toward him, his lips claiming hers again, more desperately this time. Amelie’s hands found the buttons of his shirt, tugging at them as she kissed him back with equal urgency.

Her heart raced as she felt his hands slip under her skirt, his touch sending shocks of desire through her. —Fuck, you feel amazing,— he whispered, his voice hoarse as his lips trailed down her neck.

Amelie moaned softly, tilting her head back to give him better access, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the intensity of the moment, and she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

—Lando…— she breathed, her hands trembling as they explored his chest, her nails grazing his skin.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire, before he pulled her top and skirt over her head in one swift motion. The moment she was in just her underwear, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed as if she weighed nothing. His hands were everywhere, caressing her skin, as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

Amelie’s breath caught in her throat as Lando hovered over her, his lips kissing a trail down her body. She arched into him, her hands threading through his hair, urging him on.

—Fuck, you’re beautiful,— he murmured, his lips brushing over her stomach.

Her body responded to his every touch, every kiss, and she pulled him back up to her lips, kissing him fiercely. Their hands were frantic, pulling at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel skin on skin.

When they finally came together, it was electric. Every inch of their bodies connected, every kiss, every touch, every sigh filled with the tension and desire that had been building for so long. It was messy and intense, the need for each other overwhelming.

And when it was over, they lay tangled together in the sheets, breathless, their bodies pressed close. Amelie’s head rested against Lando’s chest, and he kissed the top of her head, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back.

She smiled softly, her heart still racing. —That was… holy shit.—

Lando chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her. —Told you I’d make you feel good, Ames.—

--------------

liked by maxfewtrell, ameliedayman, and others

landonorris: WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

View all 8,588 comments

ameliedayman: Finally, I get to kiss a winner. 🏆😏 Proud of you, champ. → landonorris: @ameliedayman Oh, I’m winning more than races tonight 👀.

fanspeedy: BRO FINALLY DID IT 🔥😭 WE BEEN WAITING SINCE 2019. → landofanboy69: @fanspeedy King secured the bag ON and OFF the track, no cap. 👀

minniemills: Tears in my eyes! Lando, you absolute legend. P1! 🏆 → landonorris: @minniemills Minnie, don’t cry, I’m barely holding it together myself. 😅

mclaren: And we said it: He’s built different. 🏆

taylorf1fan: Tears are streaming down my face 😭😭 LANDO REALLY DID IT. → lanmelie_endgame: @taylorf1fan He deserves it and we deserve this relationship reveal. 🙌👀

charles_leclerc: About time, mate. Just don’t think you’re catching me in Monaco 🥱 → landonorris: @charles_leclerc Watch me 😉

madisonbeer: KING SH*T 👑 So proud, Lando! → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer Right? I trained him well. 😉 → landoeditz_: @ameliedayman Girl, don’t play with us like that!

landohater69: Great, now his ego will be even bigger. 🙄

hayesgrier: Okay, Lando. We see you, trophy boy 🏆 Don’t forget who was rooting for you before you were cool. → ameliedayman: @hayesgrier Bro, you didn’t even watch F1 until like a year ago 💀 → hayesgrier: @ameliedayman Details.

maxverstappen1: Guess I’ll let you have this one 😉 Congrats, bro! Enjoy the moment. → landonorris: @maxverstappen1 Appreciate it, Max.

landosbiggestfan_: HE’S BEEN IN LOVE WITH HER FOR AGES AND NOW THIS?! I’M LOSING IT

amelieupdates_: Soft launch? Babes, this was a HARD LAUNCH.

[httpsdana]

Hello I have a request!

I hope it’s not too confusing and not too plain

Sorry my first time requesting

I like your fics a lot

So…

It is where reader is friends with Cubarsi and one of her friends likes him. reader likes Pau but doesn’t tell anyone that she likes him. the other friend that likes Pau tells people and thinks Pau likes her and is going to ask her out.

reader gets rlly upset and is already tackling with depression and knowing abt this makes her rlly sad. also if you can add how the girl asks you ask Cubarsi if he likes her. this makes reader so upset. but then Pau sees her upset so he tries to comfort her and confesses he likes reader.

(btw Cubarsi and reader like msg everyday and stuff)

also if you can’t do this or it’s a bit confusing im so sorry. im having this issue irl and wna cry

I am reading over this and it is very confusing very soory

In the Quiet Spaces Between Us~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I really hope this is what you asked for 🙏🏻

She wasn't sure when her friendship with Pau had shifted into something more—when the late-night texts and easy conversations began carrying a weight that made her heart ache.

Maybe it was the way he smiled at her, soft and unguarded, or the way his texts always seemed to brighten her darkest days. Whatever it was, y/n had fallen for him, and the realization had been as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

But she never told anyone. Not Pau, and certainly not her friend María, who recently announced her crush on him with unbridled enthusiasm.

“I think Pau likes me,” María said one evening as you both sat in a café. Her tone was light, but the certainty in her voice cut through y/n like a blade.

She forced a weak smile. “Why do you think that?”

María shrugged, swirling her straw in her iced coffee. “He’s always looking at me during group hangouts. And the other day, he laughed at one of my jokes even though it wasn’t that funny. That has to mean something, right?”

y/n laughed nervously, clutching her own drink like it was a lifeline. “Maybe he just thought it was funny.”

María grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside y/n. “No way. I’ve got a feeling about this. I think he’s going to ask me out soon.”

The words made her stomach twist painfully, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Maybe.” she murmured

That night, Pau texted y/n, just like he always did.

Pau: “How was your day?”

y/n: “It was okay. You?”

Pau: “Long, but better now that I’m talking to you.”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her chest tightening at his words.

Did he mean it the way she wanted him to? Or was this just his way of being a good friend?

y/n: “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Pau: “It’s true. I’d go crazy without our chats.”

She stared at the screen, her heart aching.

If only he knew how much she wished those words carried more meaning.

A few days later, María cornered y/n after a group hangout, her face glowing with excitement. “Hey,” she said, her voice practically buzzing. “I need a favor.”

“What’s up?” she asked, already wary of the look in her eyes.

“Can you ask Pau if he likes me?”

Her words hit her like a punch to the gut. “What?”

María laughed, as though it were the most natural request in the world. “You’re closer to him than I am. He won’t suspect anything if you ask casually.”

y/n felt her mouth go dry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, come on,” María pressed, her grin faltering. “Please? I really think he likes me, but I just want to be sure before I make a move.”

y/n felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her. How could she not see how much this was hurting her?

Her words were the final straw. y/n mumbled an excuse and left the conversation, retreating to the bathroom where she locked the door behind her. Tears burned her eyes as she leaned against the sink, her chest heaving with silent sobs. It felt like everything was crumbling. Her feelings for Pau and her friendship with María were all colliding, leaving her gasping for air.

When she finally emerged, her eyes red and puffy, she avoided everyone and went straight home. She didn’t even check her phone, ignoring the notifications piling up from Pau.

The next morning, a knock at her door startled y/n. Groggily, she pulled herseld out of bed and shuffled to the door, opening it to find Pau standing there.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but laced with concern. “Are you okay? You didn’t reply to my texts last night.”

She blinked at him, her heart aching at the sight of his worried expression. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“No, you’re not,” Pau said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What’s going on? Did I do something?”

y/n shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “you did nothing wrong. I’m just tired.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Then he said, “Is this about María?”

Her head snapped up, her heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been dropping hints lately,” Pau said, his voice careful. “About… us.”

y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry as she expected him to tell her he likes María. “And?”

“And I don’t feel that way about her,” he said simply, his gaze steady on hers.

Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly followed by a wave of guilt. “She really likes you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Pau said, his voice softening. “But I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t.”

Her hands trembled in her lap, and she clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. “do you like someone else?”

Pau hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

He reached out, his hand brushing against hers. “I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words didn’t register at first. She stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his tone firmer this time. “I have for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. “But why? I’m… I’m a mess, Pau. I’m not like María. I’m not—”

“Stop,” he said, cutting her off. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “You don’t have to be anyone else. You’re enough, just the way you are. And I don’t care what you think about yourself—I see someone strong, kind, and beautiful.”

His words broke through the walls she'd built around her heart, and a sob escaped her lips. “I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered.

“You’re not losing me,” Pau said, his voice steady. “Not now, not ever.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as she cried. His embrace was warm and safe, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness in her mind began to lift.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hlo🩷 Can I have a obey me scenario of the 7 brothers (seperately) finding out that MC knows pole dancing and just discovered it when they entered her room without knocking and saw a literal pole with her spinning on it.

Lucifer

He knew he should have knocked, but the matter on which he had to speak with [Y/N] on was urgent. So, Lucifer thought that, just for this one time, it would be acceptable.

Opening the door and seeing them there, spinning around on a pole he was quite sure had not been there some months ago, he was taken aback to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know humans could be so graceful. “My apologies,” he said at first, “I did not mean to interrupt your…workout, but I needed to talk to you about something important. If you could…come down.”

Mammon

Being the Avatar of Greed, Mammon had been in some of the best clubs in the world. Several of them included dancers. Beautiful aerial sirens who were there to distract the customers, so they wouldn’t focus on their bets, and make their pockets that much easier to pick. Never him though, Mammon was always focused on his money, but he had seen it all.

Yet when he saw [Y/N], spinning in the air, he understood finally why they were such a draw.

“W-Where did you get that?? Why are you spinning on a pole?? You’re not thinking of working down at one of the clubs are you?! I won’t allow it!”

Levi

Levi had been so excited when he found the new Easter Egg in his game, that he had to show [Y/N] right away!

He figured it would be ok for him not to knock this one time. This was very important after all. When he opened the door and found [Y/N] inverted on a pole, his face immediately went red and he had to cover his nose. “W-W-Wh! What are you doing?!”

He’d seen moves like this before, in some of his animes and a few games as well, but never in person. Seeing [Y/N] doing them, in person, put a whole new perspective on it. One that made him think of pole dancing cosplays, and spinning maid-kuns in his room….

Satan

Finally! He had figured it out!

After combing his latest series for months. Reviewing every note he had ever taken on each book. Then finally coming to the conclusion earlier that afternoon, Satan had finally figured it out! He knew who the murder in their murder mystery series was and he had to tell [Y/N]!

Rushing to their room with unprecedented enthusiasm, Satan flung open the door with equally unprecedented glee. “[Y/N]! I have it! I finally figured it….” His voice and enthusiasm trailed off as he saw them on a pole in their room. Stopping mid spin but clearly in the middle of a routine. “I uh….I’ll come back later….” He then quietly apologized and slowly closed the door.

Asmo

“[Y/N]-chan~! The new issue of Devil Style just arrived! I thought we could look at the new jacket lines and take this cute couples quiz….” Asmo trailed off as he looked up from the pages to see [Y/N].

Clearly, he had caught them in the middle of something. Namely practicing their pole moves on the newly installed polished chrome in their room.

“You got a pole in here!” Asmo gushed. Completely abandoning the magazine on the floor to rush over and touch the silver. “Oh wow! Who knew you had it in you? Are you practicing for anyone special, eh? Need an audience to provide critiques? Or maybe show you a few moves ♡?” The demon giggled as he was already climbing on the pole as well. Ready to play.

Beel

He knows he should have knocked. Usually, Beel wouldn’t even consider going into someone else’s room without knocking, but he was so focused on the new parfait treat at Madam Scream’s that all his brain power was focused on that. ‘Parfait. Parfair. [Y/N]. Parfait’

Beel had planed to invite them to come with him, always a good sport for trying new things, and was surprised to see them on a pole when he came into the room. “Whoa. What’s that?”

As [Y/N] slid down, Beel came to inspect it. “Hey. I’ve heard of these actually. They’re for like pole-robics aren’t they?” In his quest for new workouts in his evolving fitness plan, Beel had come across the term but never seen it in practice. Innocent enough to think that’s the only thing it was used for. “I beat this is a great core work out. Can I try sometime? Do you think it would hold me? Hmmm…maybe I’ll need to order a heavier duty one so we can workout together…?”

Belphie

Belphie had a bad habit of sleepwalking. Or, more to the point, half-sleep-half-walking in most cases.

He had woken up from one of his mid-afternoon naps to go find [Y/N] and finish his nap in their room. Not recharged enough to want to socialize, but wanting to be around them.

As usual, he didn’t bother knocking on the door. Belphie just letting himself in and seeing [Y/N] there. Spinning around on a pole in the middle of the room. Not the oddest thing he had dream of; as he assumed he had to be dreaming.

Saying nothing, Belphie just walked over to their bed and laid himself down. When he woke up, and the pole was still there, he just said, “wow….dream come true.”

[scramblescrew]

Hey can I request uh....ancients with a y/n who finally gives up but ends up depressed? Like they usually lay there and do nothing and be basically a sad doll that needs lots of comfort?

((Sure thing, Anon! Here ya go! Sorry it took me so long! Writer’s block has been killing me

(TRIGGER WARNING FOR THEMES OF DEPRESSIVE TOPICS! IF IT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU, PLEASE MOVE ON PAST)

.

.

.

.

Dark Cacao Cookie would start having a bit of an easier time realizing what you’re feeling. He had felt the same depressed, empty feeling when his son, Dark Choco Cookie, forced his hand and he was cast out of the kingdom.

But when he found out you were just laying in bed, usually motionless, he was concerned. He understood that you weren’t in an ideal mental state but you still needed to care for yourself.

Instead of having one of the citadel staff bringing you your rations, Dark Cacao did instead. When he unlocked the door to your chambers and entered. His heart ached even more watching you lay motionless on your bed, your chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

“Y/N…”

DCC walked over with the food, set it down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Please understand why I had to keep you here in the citadel…the world outside of these walls would corrupt you…take what it would from you then leave you for dead. I couldn’t have that for you…I can’t lose you…!”

After a few minutes of silence, DCC sighed and laid down beside you, pulling you in close, and wrapped his arms around Y/N.

“Please know that I love you…even if in your eyes it doesn’t seem so…”

—————————————————————————

Scared. Pure Vanilla Cookie is scared when he finds to mindlessly and silently pacing the grounds of his kingdom for who knows how many hours and even more fearful when he catches up to you and you stare blankly and wordlessly at him.

His heart breaks at this as he pulls you close and hugs you.

“Let’s get you back to bed, you must be exhausted…wondering for so long isn’t good for you…”

PV helped you to your shared bedroom and let you have privacy to get changed into more comfortable clothing before helping you into bed and healing any injuries you may have gotten from your wonder.

After everything was settled down and you were physically well again, PV got into bed with you, pull you close, and started kissing your forehead and gently rubbing your back as you lay there.

“Please don’t scare me like that…I never want to see you hurt…”

_____________________________________

Hollyberry was excited when you had taken your stay in her castle, your new home, better than she had anticipated, you occupied her to events without complaint (maybe a bit of reluctance and though not very much), you started to give her small bits of affection like holding her hand and reciprocating her hugs even if you were still very reserved, but somethings were still worrying…

What she worried about was went you started having sudden outbursts of rage and berating her for getting to close. It was like flipping a switch in your brain at random and it was…SCARING your captor.

After leaving you be for a while and do research on what she could do to help you and came up with a solution.

That night she sat you down and gently hugged you, explaining that she understands that you’re going through a rough time and that she wanted to help you. She was going to set up meetings with a therapist and will let you roam the kingdom with less strict supervision. All she wanted was you to get better and to love her.

“All I want in return is your love…please give me your love, my dear…”

—————————————————————————————————————

White Lily Cookie understood… being forced to stay in a barely familiar place with someone who claims to be your lover but is actually your captor can take a toll on a cookie. So it was understandable that you would fall into a depression. One where you couldn’t sleep(understandable as White Lily Cookie made you sleep in the same bed as her), you refused food or drink much to her worry, and your memory was getting worse by the day due to the aforementioned symptoms and more.

It all came to a head one day when you…just stopped moving at all, you didn’t get outta bed, you stopped what little resistance you gave to White Lily Cookie’s attempts to give you affection. You accepted all the hugs, kisses and the cheek and forehead, accepted her cuddling you at night, everything. You just stopped responding.

After a thorough examination from a doctor that was called in (No, Pure Vanilla Cookie was not asked for help. He had his own darling to deal with), it was found out that your depression had gotten worse, to the point of you had fallen into a Catatonic state.

After this revelation, White Lily would try every day to get you to get up or even just open your eyes and look at her. But White Lily soon conceded and focused on being there for you, gently holding you close and letting you be her sad little doll…

“My sweetest doll…it’ll all be ok. Please just open your eyes..for me..?”

—————————————————————————————————————

Golden Cheese Cookie held you in her arms with her wings wrapped around your body. With what has happened to her in the past, Golden Cheese Cookie understands what it’s like to feel so empty and hopeless.

But you staying in your bed all day….something in her….BEGS…for you to get up again…

The next thing you know, you are subjected to bi-daily tests and a sarcophagus is built to hold you and keep you inside of it. It was built so only Golden Cheese Cookie could get you out if she ever wanted to.

And that was the hardest part, the easiest part was locking you inside. You didn’t really fight back like you used to, like you did when she first brought you to her kingdom. But that just meant you would be hers sooner…

Once you were in GCC’s digital kingdom, you felt the urge to get up, to walk around, to be free, much to Golden Cheese cookie’s satisfaction and joy. She once again hugged and held you close with her wings wrapped around you.

“It’ll be ok now…I’ve got you…and you’ll never want for anything, my gem…”

————————————————————————————————————

Im here this is here, it’s raw, it took forever- I need a nap (I pulled an all nighter for this request so I could get it out for you all😊) *Dies*

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.15

Hii guyss, I hope you enjoy this part. If you've missed part 14 or the other parts you can find them on my masterlist :)

Formula 1 is all about speed, but in this story, the real race isn't just on the track. Read on to find out who will win the ultimate race-for your heart.

- Spa 2023 -

Race day in Spa has the paddock buzzing with energy, especially with a massive wave of Max fans taking over. The sea of orange flags and cheering crowds are electric, creating a wild atmosphere that only adds to the pressure and excitement in the air. You've been running around the McLaren motorhome all morning, lending a hand wherever it's needed, keeping track of the endless details that keep the day moving smoothly.

As the race unfolds, though, things don't go as planned for McLaren. Oscar struggles with the car and ends up finishing last, while Lando manages to place seventh but isn't particularly pleased with the result. The mood in the motorhome is a mix of disappointment and exhaustion. As the post-race interviews begin and everyone is occupied, you slip out of the motorhome and make your way to the F2 and F3 paddock, eager to catch up with friends before the day ends.

When you arrive, you see Franco chatting with some of his team, and a smile spreads across his face as soon as he notices you.

As you settle into Franco's embrace, the weight of the morning starts to slip away. His arms around you feel like the first bit of peace you've had all day.

"Alguien está cansada," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips as he holds you close. "You've been running around all day, haven't you?"

(Someone is tired)

You nod, letting out a tired sigh. "It's been non-stop, honestly. And with the race going so badly, the McLaren motorhome is just... tense. No one knows what to say to each other."

Franco tightens his arms around you, resting his chin gently on your head. "Lo siento, mi amor," he says, his voice warm and soothing. "I get it. My race wasn't great either; we just didn't have the pace, and it's hard not to feel... a bit useless, you know?"

(I'm sorry, my love)

You look up at him, sympathy filling your gaze. "I know it's not what you wanted," you say softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair back from his forehead. "But I also know you did your best, and there'll be more races, better ones. I'm always here cheering for you, win or lose."

He gives you a small, grateful smile. "Gracias, hermosa. You know... it really helps, knowing you're here, even on days like this."

(Thanks, beautiful)

For a moment, you both stand there, wrapped in each other, blocking out the noise of the paddock. The world feels smaller, quieter, and safer. Franco lets out a soft sigh as he runs his hand soothingly along your back, his words gentle. "I don't think I've ever looked forward to seeing someone so much. Tú me haces sentir mejor, just being here."

(You make me feel better)

The way he says it, his voice so tender and sincere, makes you smile. "You too, Franco," you reply, feeling the words settle warmly between you. "I didn't realize how much I needed this—just us, right here."

He kisses your forehead, pulling you even closer. "We'll take more moments like this, I promise. Nadie más, sólo tú y yo."

(No one else, just you and me)

You stay wrapped up in him, feeling a deep comfort you didn't realize you were missing. But after a few more quiet moments, you suddenly remember.

"Oh, I totally forgot," you say with a small laugh, pulling back slightly. "I need to return Ollie's sweatshirt."

Franco raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming. "Ah, el famoso Ollie," he teases, a hint of playful jealousy in his tone. "I'll come with you. I think I'd like to see his face when you give it back."

(Ah the famous, Ollie)

You laugh, linking your arm through his as you both head back towards the paddock, and Franco's lighthearted presence fills you with a renewed warmth.

As you and Franco finally spot Ollie, you call out, "Ollie!" He turns at the sound of your voice, a smile spreading across his face—until he sees Franco by your side. The warmth in his expression fades slightly, but he quickly covers it up as you approach.

"Hey! I wanted to give this back," you say, holding out his sweatshirt with a grateful smile. "It saved me last night, so thanks for that."

Ollie takes the sweatshirt, his smile returning. "Anytime. Glad it came in handy." His gaze shifts briefly to Franco, then back to you. "We had a blast last night—hopefully, we can do it again sometime."

Franco's arm slides casually around your shoulder, his thumb brushing gently against you. "Oh yeah, she told me all about it," he chimes in with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Seems like you guys were having a lot of fun. Maybe next time, I'll join and see what's so entertaining."

The air between Franco and Ollie shifts, the tension barely noticeable to you, but an unspoken challenge passes between them as their gazes lock. Ollie's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, while Franco's smirk lingers, his stance relaxed but his eyes holding steady.

Just as you're about to notice the shift in their expressions, your dad's voice crackles from your phone, snapping you back to the moment. "Where are you? I'm ready to go."

"Oh! Gotta go." You quickly step forward, hugging Ollie tightly. "See you next race," you say, smiling warmly at him.

Then, turning to Franco, you squeeze his hand as he pulls you into a brief, soft hug. "Catch you soon, princesa," he murmurs, a hint of affection in his voice as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

With a wave, you dash toward the F1 paddock, the lingering looks between Ollie and Franco fading from your mind as you hurry to catch up with your dad.

After you leave, Franco turns back to Oliver, his expression hardening as he faces him with a smirk. "So, in case it wasn't clear," he says, a hint of triumph in his voice, "we're together now. Maybe if you'd been faster, things would've been different." He shrugs casually. "But I guess that's what separates the winners from the rest, no?"

Oliver's jaw clenches, the shock in his eyes quickly replaced by anger. "You think just because she trusts you, I should? I don't," he retorts, voice low and simmering. "Maybe she's let her guard down around you, but I haven't. And just because she's with you doesn't mean I'm going anywhere, especially when there are still questions unanswered. I haven't forgotten those messages. Can you say the same?"

Franco's smirk fades slightly, but he holds Oliver's gaze with steady confidence. "Keep thinking whatever you want," he replies, unfazed. "You're only here because she hasn't told you to back off yet. And maybe she never will, but you're not her priority—I am." He leans in, dropping his voice. "So why don't you let her be happy, instead of clinging to something that's not happening?"

Oliver's hands ball into fists, but he keeps his voice calm. "As long as I have a reason to doubt you, I'm not going anywhere. Whatever's going on with those texts? Maybe she should be doubting you too."

Before Franco can respond, an engineer from his team calls him over, effectively ending the confrontation. He gives Oliver one last look, daring him to push back, before walking away.

Meanwhile, you're back at the McLaren motorhome, oblivious to the clash that just took place. You dive into your work, helping Lando's and Oscar's crews with post-race equipment checks and preparations before leaving. There's a hint of tension in the air, but you shrug it off, attributing it to the stress of the race day.

Tag list: @hs2016, @a-beaverhausen

[bloodnikki]

Ekko loves Jinx. He loves every side of her even if he can’t get the name right. He wonders why it’s a struggle to accept her as Jinx until she’s gone and it hits him.

Guilt. It’s guilt that made him unable to let go. It’s guilt for his people. If he accepted as Jinx, and loved her anyway, he would’ve been a failure to them. He wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eyes as he fought to protect them.

Powder’s still in there was code for I’m not a bad person for wanting her. It maybe why he was so angry he wouldn’t let him call her that. Jinx wanted him to remember her crimes. Jinx needed him to see her for who she was.

He gets why she stayed with Silco. He was an awful man but at least he cared for her enough to respect the person she wanted to be. Ekko had been ashamed to love her.

‘Hey, I know we were meant to have this big talk after the battle but I can’t. I’m tired of talking. We run around in circles. Powder, Powder you say and I say I’m Jinx and you give those big eyes and I feel shitty for being me and you feel shitty because I’m me. I can’t do that. So, I’m just gonna listen to Silco. I’m going to end the cycle. He came to me the other day talking about being brave enough to end cycles or some nonsense. He talks too much. I guess it’s finally time I listen. Kinda owe him one time seeing as I killed him.

Ekko, do you ever wonder what we could’ve been? I do. Not all the time. I’m not that crazy but I do. It reminds me of how fucked and jinxed I am and your stupid big eyes and I just can’t do this anymore. It would’ve been easier if you just killed me.

So, no big talk. Instead, I’m ending the cycle. I’m going to this place I heard about from Vander when he was still kicking around. Maybe if we met there things would’ve been different.’

Ekko.hates when he finds the letter stuffed in his things at the lab. He thinks how he thinks of it as their lab but it’s not. It’s all hers and she’s gone. Vi said she didn’t make it. He cries for what feels like hours. He leaves and can’t will himself back to their shared space.

He misses her so much. Everything reminds him of her. His feet take him back to their lab and he’s ready to mourn her all over again when he sees a letter that wasn’t there before. In large pink ink, the top read She Lives.

He flicks it open and the first lines make him chuckle. ‘I just can’t seem to die. So, the world is stuck with me. The world is stuck with me but that doesn’t mean I have to be stuck here. I doubt you’d like to come with. I’m scared you’d say no. So, I’ve gone on ahead. I’m going to check out this place here. If I miss you, which let’s face it, you most likely aren’t gonna come, I’ll leave a note on where I’ll head next. It’ll be like a game.’

Ekko hates how excited he is she’s alive. He hates the idea of not telling Vi or anyone. He tells Scar though. Ekko’s packing a bag and he tells Scar “she made it. I’m going. Things are covered here and ya got this and I’m going and-“

“Good. Go.” Scar understands. “Come back once you both are ready.”

“I… thanks.”

Ekko follows behind her. Some stops, he knows he just missed her. Everyone tells him stories about her and he reads her letters. He cries some nights looking them over. She leaves a photo behind for him. The back reads ‘look at me! I’m finally putting on some pounds. Maybe I’ll finally grow boobs.’ She looks beautiful.

Their messages are a one way street. She can talk to him but he can’t talk to her. It must be justice for all the times he shut her out when he wanted to speak to Powder and only got Jinx. Ekko buys a notebook on the way to the third town. He wants to write down his thoughts to share later with her.

It’s almost two years and he’s just missed her more times than he could count. He wonders if she’ll ever slow down enough to let him catch her. From her letters, it sounds like she’s scared he isn’t coming. He hates that she’s no faith in him. Of course he’s coming. He loves her.

It finally happens. He finally sees her in person and there’s no way she’s getting away, unless she runs. He really hopes she doesn’t run.

“Ekko.”

And that’s it. He’s never letting her out of sight again.

[curlyhairedbooklover]

How many times do Will and Hannibal say each other's names?

I have had this data sitting around finished for over a year (and started collecting it three years ago) and have finally decided to just share it! I’m splitting it up into three posts, this one is about how many times Will and Hannibal say each other’s names, the next adds in Jack and Alana, and the third is a bit of a departure as it’s about the gender split of the murder victims in the show!! 

Very quickly I’ll go over the format! I was particularly interested in what form of name people used so it’s split into first name, title, and full name (slightly varying depending on the needs of each table) as well as whether the character is speaking directly to the person whose name they are saying or if it’s to someone else!

Adding a disclaimer that I did this for fun so I haven’t double checked it meaning there may be some mistakes, but I tried my best! 😌

Getting into the data itself: first of all, Will says Hannibal’s name 109 times throughout the entire series, 29 of them are while talking to Hannibal himself and 80 are while talking to others. Will only uses Hannibal’s first name 48 times with none of them occurring in s1 and only 6 being while talking TO Hannibal himself… (Though the s2 one is in conversation with both Jack and Hannibal being more directed towards the former but Hannibal is present so it counts babeyy!!) He likes calling him just “Dr.” doing so 5 times but the majority of the time he uses “Dr. Lecter” when speaking to Hannibal making up the remaining 17 times! When talking about Hannibal he uses his name the most in s2 at 42 times but only 14 of those are his first name. He prefers to use a more impersonal form in s2 as opposed to s3 where he uses Hannibal’s name 34 times in conversation but a whole 28 of them are his first name!! He really said I’m on intimate terms with Hannibal now 😌. (Especially if we remember this is the season where he addressed Hannibal by his first name 5 times too….) 

Hannibal on the other hand uses Will’s name almost double the amount of times that Will uses his! Hannibal’s total comes to 204! Most of them are in s1&2 at 88 and 75 respectively, before dropping down to 41 times in s3 (2 times less than Will that season!) He also uses Will’s first name Significantly More at 184 times, in fact he only full names him 20 times! The only two times he uses Will’s full name while talking to him are in 1.11 when Will has a seizure in his living room and he’s doing the “It is [time], I am in [place] and my name is Will Graham” routine. Interestingly he uses Will’s full name 9 times while talking to others in s2 but they are exclusively in s2a, once Will got out of prison he went all in on ‘Will is my best friend’. Although I want to note that in 2.1 he uses Will’s first name while talking to others 10 times during the episode…… There are only three episodes in the entire show where he doesn’t use Will’s name and they are all in s3 (3.3, 3.4, and 3.7) he really tried to have his Hot Girl Summer and forget about his ex though luckily (for him and us) it did not last. And in 3.9 he uses Will’s name 15 times that episode and all of them were his first name, he’s down bad!! He simply can’t help it!! Across s3b he uses Will's name 32 times which is 78% of all the uses in s3, turns out going to prison for a man just makes you talk about him More!

This table also includes a side table of every time they talk to or about each other! Not much to note there except that they talk the most in s1&2 resting at 39 and 43 respectively before dropping to only 25 conversations in s3 but they are separated for 5 episodes so I think we can forgive them for that 🤷‍♀️ although they do have a few flashback or hallucination conversations (on that topic the two conversations in 2.4 are hallucinations from Will and the single conversation in 3.8 is technically the letter Hannibal sent Will but I felt like they deserved to be counted!!) When talking about each other Hannibal initially does so more, having 24 conversations in s1 as opposed to Will's 7 about him. Whereas they are more evenly matched in s2 with Will at 33 and Hannibal at 27. In s3 Will completely overtakes Hannibal talking about him 36 times to Hannibal's 13! It’s interesting that despite Will talking so little about Hannibal in s1 he ends up the ultimate winner at a total count of 76 conversations to Hannibal’s 64! But it's safe to say that with those totals they are both completely obsessed with the other 😌

To f i n a l l y let my English degree in for a minute it’s very telling that Will uses Hannibal’s first name sparingly, indicating that it took time for him to build intimacy and trust with him. If we look at the occasions in which he deploys it when talking to Hannibal he uses it as a weapon to induce Hannibal into doing things BY referencing their intimacy this way and letting it bleed into his words. This convinces Hannibal that he needs to go to prison so Will could always find him and later to go along with Will's plan to break him out. Hannibal on the other hand readily uses Will’s first name from the beginning and in fact does so More at this point than later on. This shows how he was fostering dependence and creating trust that he could then use to break Will and watching him break would in turn feed his curiosities about Will. There is also a notable jump in 3.8 in his use of Will's name since the beginning of the season, it marks the first time they have seen each other in 3 years. Now Hannibal is trying to re-ingratiate himself to Will while simultaneously throwing barbs at him to try to inflict some of the pain he felt in their separation and to test if Will felt the same anguish (which we know he of course did however much he denies it..)

I hope that this data has been interesting and most importantly has illuminated how insane they are about each other!! I would love to hear any other thoughts people have in the tags or comments!

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Shoutout to @will-gayham for going insane about this with me for the past two years and being as enthusiastic about ✨data✨ as I am, love you! 🫶

[floralovebot]

MADE EDITS i couldn't stop thinking about their outfits and like,, the aspects i liked and thought felt very winx and in line with the individual characters and the aspects i Hated and thought sucked dookie SO i made some edits :)

biggest changes are to musa, aisha, and stella! actually changed the clothes there. flora and tecna i just adjusted the colors (in flora's case to further unwhitewash her and saturate her clothing more and in tecna's case to bring back her pink hair and green and cyan).

explanations on changes below!

I'll start with the simpler edits!

For Tecna, I just wanted to play around with her og colors lol I actually LOVE her new look and I would love to see this be the final design!! It's SO tecna and fits in with the rest of the winx i love it soo much :') I do think they should bring back her pinker hair though! And again, would love to see the green and cyan make an appearance. I feel like neon green is just very classy techy character. And while it is cliche, I do love it akjgd plus I think it looks good on her and makes the other colors stand out more imo! (but maybe this new, pinker look will make people like her more idk :') justice for tecna my beloved :'))

For Flora, I darkened her skin more for obvious reasons. And then I added more saturation to the colors and added back the warmer tones they took out. Imo, the darker, desaturated, and cooler toned look for Flora only works in very specific circumstances. Color theory rainbow!! Bring back the brightness! The color!! The warmth!!

Which brings me to Stella ohmygod,,, please,,,, please stop desaturating her she looks so pale and sick and lifeless STOP please :') Anyway lol, obviously brought back the brighter orange! I also took away the random sleeve. It's cute but it just didn't feel very Stella at the time? The tube top look is Very Classic Stella (very much giving s3 casual but in orange). Tbh, I don't love the dress itself, but I do think it looks better once you add more of Stella's colors. I also tanned her skin more and made her hair more yellow + brighter! Just like with Flora, color theory is important for media!! This Stella design just does Not give sunny, optimistic character. It's giving the gap (aka BORING aljdhg)

Aisha's design stumped me for a bit, I won't lie. I couldn't figure out exactly what I didn't like. But I got it!! One, way too symmetrical imo. Yes, Aisha does have some very symmetrical looks, but like 80% of her looks are very asymmetrical. I also didn't love that it didn't incorporate more of Aisha's powers. It really just went for *vaguely sporty* and didn't try to bring anything else to the table. And some people might say that Aisha's og looks were like that too, but I disagree! They told a story! She's a brave adventurer, a dancer, a princess, etcetc!! This tells me "oh yeah this girl might like to do yoga. cool."

Anyway! So I made Aisha's pants baggier because let's be fucking real for a sec. Changed the design on the pants slightly to make it asymmetrical and incorporated a wave design. Took away that bottom shiny fabric of her shirt. I tried to keep it but it just wasn't looking great with the pants changes tbh. Added small waves to the bottom and made it one shoulder! Also added her classic little circle wave design 1. because it's cute and 2. so Musa wouldn't feel so out of place with a design. Tbh, I still don't love the pants... I think maybe that hem could be higher?

For Musa! I've spoken about this before but I do not like the bodysuit. I liked the concept and the vibe it brings, but it looks So uncomfortable and s1 Musa was alllll about being comfortable. It's why so many people think she hates wearing dresses (even though she doesn't). So I kept the vibe, but changed it to the same mesh that's on her right arm! Which like!! I didn't even see that until I started the edit!! It's so,,, unnoticeable which like,, isn't a bad thing? But also? I think the mesh being on her stomach too makes the design as a whole a little more balanced (and it's a nice callback to her og magic winx!). As for the color changes, really just wanted to go back to her reds and dark blues. I don't Hate the color scheme, but I also don't love it. And I think this feels a lot more like Musa yknow? Also darkened her hair cause fuck that dude

Anyway lol it's not the best edit so don't look too hard :') I just wanted to explore what I liked about the designs and what I didn't. We did get to see a little bit of Bloom's casual, but I want to wait until we get a closer look to speak on it/make edits. Also tbh, I don't really love Flora's outfit but I didn't want to completely redesign her and I concede that this is something she would wear (although it feels more like s4 cowgirl time/s5 casual and not s1 new student time but Fine). For now, I'm gonna pretend the trailer showed us my edit of Stella and not what it really showed. I can't get pale pinterest stella out of my head,,, aggghhhh

[droodlebug]

i'm for sure not finishing veilguard. i set it down a while and tried again and ahh i'm just not enjoying it. the characters dont have a depth im looking for.. the insertion of a writer's white guilt onto the elves that are based on real life indigenous people and have been in-games enslaved and treated horrifically and are the ones who don't have "real" gods that are actually just blighted tyrants. everything with taash and the qunari. the gameplay was fun for a while but then it made my hand so numb i couldnt do anything for a week. the last straw was taash's gender talk that suddenly turned into picking a cultural identity for them to align with out of nowhere and then soon after learning that Another antagonist is of course an elf. starting to feel like their implying that all elves become evil when given power jfc. i think i'm actually done with it it started making me feel gross and bored. i don't care if you enjoy it or not, everyone's got a different threshold it just crossed mine.