#flaneur taglist

[luv-tiffanyblue]

hi! if there's still an open spot, can i be added to the flaneur taglist? i really love the plot <3

Of course! You’re now added!

[fvsm4x]

𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐃 ✧ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩 𝟏 • 𝐫𝐞-𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝

Growing up as childhood friends, you and Satoru Gojo share a deep bond that only strengthens as you both mature. Now, as your personal knight and protector, Satoru's feelings for you become harder to hide.

cw. guard gojo s. x princess fem. reader / arranged marriage / violence / tension / wc. 12k

taglist: @sadmonke @theonlyhonoredone @itzmeme @dcvilxswish @kalopsia-flaneur @misslovingpearl @gojoslefttoenail @ryumurin @zoeyflower

series masterlist - prev | next

The morning sun spilled across the palace grounds, casting long shadows over the training fields where knights sparred with precision and discipline. But inside the royal stables, the atmosphere was anything but orderly. You tightened your grip on the reins of your horse, the powerful creature pawing the ground impatiently as you readied yourself for the day’s escape.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached your ears just as you swung up into the saddle. You turned to see Satoru Gojo, your ever-vigilant knight, striding toward you with that familiar mix of exasperation and amusement in his eyes. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, tousled in a way that hinted he’d rushed here, probably after hearing you’d once again slipped away from your royal duties.

“Y/N,” Satoru called out, his voice a blend of authority and a sigh that told you he’d been through this too many times before. “Tell me you’re not planning to ride out of the palace again.”

You flashed him a grin, the kind that always made his shoulders tense. “And what if I am? You know these council meetings bore me to tears, Satoru. I need a real adventure.”

He reached your side just as you guided your horse toward the gate, his hand landing on the reins,“And what do you think your father will say when he finds out his only daughter has ditched her royal duties for the fourth time this month?”

You shrugged, meeting his gaze without a trace of guilt. “He’ll probably scold me and send you to fetch me, just like always. So, why don’t you skip that part and let me have a few hours of freedom before you drag me back?”

Satoru’s lips quivered in a half-smile, though his eyes held a warning. “You know I can’t do that. My job is to keep you safe, not to mention make sure you’re present at these meetings. You’re the future queen, Y/N, not a knight out for a thrill.”

His words were serious, but they only fueled the rebellious fire burning in your chest. You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a daring whisper. “Maybe I’d rather be a knight than a queen. At least knights get to see the world beyond these walls.”

Satoru’s grip on the reins tightened just enough to halt your horse, his gaze locking with yours. “And maybe you forget that the world beyond these walls isn’t as forgiving as you think. It’s my job to remind you of that, even if it means being the one to stand in your way.”

For a moment, the air between you was charged with the tension of an ongoing battle—a battle you both knew too well. Satoru was right, of course. Your father had assigned him to you not just for protection, but to temper the wild streak that had always set you apart from other princesses. But where was the fun in always being right?

With a dramatic sigh, you sat back in the saddle, a playful pout on your lips. “Fine. I’ll attend the council meeting… after we take a quick ride through the forest. Just to clear my head.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “And by ‘quick,’ you mean?”

“An hour. Maybe two.” You flashed him your most disarming smile. “Come on, Satoru. It’s a beautiful day. Don’t tell me you’re going to spend it cooped up in that stuffy council room.”

He studied you for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—the struggle between his duty and the undeniable pull you’d always had on him. Finally, he sighed, releasing the reins and stepping back. “An hour,” he said, his tone firm. “But if you’re late to the meeting, I’m not covering for you this time.”

You grinned triumphantly, nudging your horse forward. “Deal. Now try to keep up, Sir Gojo.”

With a whoop, you urged your horse into a gallop, the wind whipping through your hair as you sped toward the forest. Behind you, you heard Satoru mutter something under his breath before he mounted his own horse and followed, the sound of hooves thundering against the ground.

As the two of you raced toward the trees, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of exhilaration. Satoru might be your protector, but he was also the only one who understood your need to break free, even if just for a little while. And in these moments, when it was just the two of you and the open road ahead, you felt more alive than any crown or royal duty could ever make you feel.

The dense canopy of the forest enveloped you as you and Satoru plunged into the shadowy depths, the sunlight filtering through the leaves in dappled patterns. The familiar scent of earth and pine filled your senses, calming the restless energy that had driven you out of the palace. Here, among the towering trees and winding paths, you felt like yourself—wild, free, unburdened by the expectations that came with your title.

You glanced over at Satoru, who was keeping pace beside you, his expression a mixture of focus and resignation. His horse moved as if in perfect sync with him, every motion smooth and calculated. You knew he was keeping a close eye on you, ready to react if you did something particularly reckless—as you often did. The thought brought a smirk to your lips.

“So, how long before you try to drag me back this time? Cause I don‘t believe you will allow me to be here for an hour.” you teased, leaning forward slightly as your horse jumped a fallen log.

Satoru didn’t miss a beat, easily clearing the log himself. “You’re right, but it depends on you, princess. If you manage to stay out of trouble, maybe we’ll actually make it back on time for once.”

You laughed, the sound echoing through the forest. “Where’s the fun in that? We both know I’m not built for sitting still and behaving.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “But maybe, just this once, you could surprise me.”

You leaned back in the saddle, the reins loose in your hands as you looked over at him. “Surprise you? Like agreeing to marry one of those pompous suitors my father keeps parading in front of me?”

Satoru’s smile faded slightly, and his gaze turned serious. “Y/N, you know this isn’t just about you. The kingdom—”

“—needs me to marry for alliances, to secure peace, to fulfill my duty,” you finished for him, the familiar words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’ve heard it all before, Satoru. But no one ever asks what I want.”

Satoru's expression became gentle, and he moved his horse closer to you while speaking in a softer tone. He asked, "What do you want?" The question hung in the air, the only sound being the steady thud of hooves on the dirt road as you both rode in silence for a moment.

This question had crossed your mind before, usually when you were alone in your room feeling overwhelmed by thoughts of your future. You wanted freedom, adventure, and the chance to live life on your own terms. But there was something more profound you yearned for, something beyond duty and your royal responsibilities.

You felt a deep desire for something meaningful, something that resonated with your true self. This unspoken longing stirred within you, pushing you to search for a sense of purpose that went beyond the boundaries of your kingdom.

But before you could respond to Satoru’s comment, the sudden rustling of leaves in the underbrush snapped your attention back to the present. Satoru’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword, his sharp eyes scanning the dense line of trees ahead. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into action. “Stay close,” he commanded, his voice dropping into a low, serious tone that left no room for argument.

Of course, you ignored him. You pulled your horse to a halt beside his, your eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, and for a fleeting moment, you almost convinced yourself it had been nothing—a deer, perhaps, or the wind stirring the branches. But then, out of the darkness, figures began to emerge, their forms blending into the gloom until they were almost upon you.

They were men clad in ragged, mismatched armor, their faces hidden beneath hoods pulled low over their eyes. Bandits.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” you muttered under your breath, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline surge through your veins.

Satoru shot you a hard look, his voice a razor-sharp edge. “Y/N, get back to the palace. Now.”

The command bristled against your nerves. You tightened your grip on the reins, your jaw set stubbornly. “I’m not running, Satoru. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

His eyes narrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he drew his sword with a smooth, practiced motion. The blade gleamed with a deadly promise, catching the dim light filtering through the trees. “Fine,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “But stay behind me.”

The bandits clearly underestimated you, assuming they’d caught an unprotected royal on a leisurely ride through the forest. They had no idea who they were dealing with. As the men moved to encircle you, Satoru spurred his horse forward with a speed and ferocity that caught them off guard.

You leaped from your horse, landing lightly on your feet as you reached for the short sword hidden in your saddle—a gift from Satoru, who had spent years teaching you how to wield it. The first bandit approached you with a lazy confidence, his swing wild and uncoordinated as if he expected an easy kill. You sidestepped his attack, your blade slicing through the air with precision as you cut across his arm. The bandit stumbled back, clutching his bleeding wound with a pained grunt.

As you turned to face your next attacker, you felt a sudden pull on your gown. The fabric snagged on a jagged branch, and with a harsh rip, it tore from your hip to your knee, exposing your leg. You glanced down briefly, irritation flaring at the sight of the ruined silk, now stained with dirt and torn wide open. But there was no time to dwell on it.

Another bandit lunged at you, and you refocused, your movements unhindered by the ruined gown. If anything, the tear gave you more freedom to move, allowing you to dodge and strike with greater agility. You parried his attack with a quick flick of your wrist, then countered with a swift slash across his side, sending him crashing to the ground.

Satoru was a force of nature beside you, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. His movements were fluid and controlled, every strike landing with deadly accuracy. Even in the chaos of battle, there was a part of you that felt strangely alive—more alive than you ever felt within the walls of the palace. Here, in the midst of danger, you weren’t just a princess confined by duty and expectation. You were a fighter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the one person who made you feel truly free.

The battle ended almost as quickly as it had begun. The bandits, realizing they were outmatched, retreated into the forest, leaving behind only a few groaning bodies and the remnants of their failed ambush. You stood there, chest heaving with exertion, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as you watched them flee.

Satoru sheathed his sword, turning to you with that familiar look of disdain. “Next time you decide to skip a council meeting, could you at least pick a direction that doesn’t involve getting us ambushed?”

“And miss all the fun?” you shot back, wiping a smear of dirt from your cheek. “Besides, you’re always saying I need to learn to defend myself.”

“You did alright,” he admitted begrudgingly, though his tone was far from complimentary. “But if you’d just listened to me in the first place, your dress wouldn’t be ruined.”

You glanced down at the torn fabric, the once-beautiful gown now reduced to tatters, and shrugged. “It’s just a dress. I’ll tell my father it was a casualty of battle.”

Satoru sighed, shaking his head. “Your father’s going to have a fit when he sees you like this. And I’m going to be the one who has to explain it.”

"That’s what you get for sticking around," you quipped with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe next time you’ll think twice before volunteering to be my knight."

Satoru’s usual smirk flickered, but instead of the usual banter, his eyes darkened with something harsher. "Believe me, I will," he muttered, his voice carrying an edge that made you flinch. His tone sharpened as he added, "You think this is a joke, don’t you? Running around, playing hero. You could’ve been killed back there."

You bristled at his words, your own irritation flaring up. "I’m not some helpless damsel, Satoru. I can take care of myself."

His eyes flashed, and for a moment, the anger simmering beneath the surface broke through. "Yeah? And what happens when your little stunts get you killed? Who’s going to take care of the kingdom then? Who’s going to explain to your father that his only heir got herself killed because she couldn’t stay out of trouble?"

The harshness in his voice stung, more than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the genuine fear in his eyes, barely concealed by his anger.

For a brief moment, the tension between you felt like a knife’s edge, sharp and dangerous. But then Satoru’s expression shifted, the anger fading into something more conflicted. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his white hair. "Damn it, Y/N," he muttered, his voice softer but still tight with emotion. "You don’t get it, do you?"

He reached out abruptly, wiping a smudge of dirt from your cheek with a roughness that was more from his frustration than anything else. His hand lingered for a moment, and then he quickly pulled back as if realizing he’d let his guard down too much. "Be careful next time, will ya?" he added, his voice softer but still tinged with irritation.

You stared at him, your own anger mingling with a confusing swirl of emotions. "Whatever," you muttered, trying to dismiss the moment, but your voice lacked conviction.

He scoffed, clearly still irritated. "Yeah, 'whatever.' Just remember that next time you’re charging headfirst into danger, thinking you’re invincible."

You met his gaze, the tension between you heavy and palpable. His eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, worry, something else you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to say something, to break the tension, but before you could find the words, he turned away, the harsh reality of your situation crashing back in.

"We should head back," you finally said, your voice tinged with reluctance as you pulled away from the charged moment. "Before my father sends the entire guard to find us."

Satoru nodded, but there was still a tightness in his expression, a lingering anger that hadn’t fully dissipated. "Yeah, we should," he agreed, but his voice was clipped. "Wouldn’t want anyone else thinking you’re out here getting yourself into more trouble."

As you both turned your horses back toward the palace, the tension between you didn’t fully fade. It hovered, unspoken and unresolved, following you like a shadow. Every step your horse took seemed to echo in the heavy silence that had settled between you and Satoru. The air around you felt thick, charged with the weight of things left unsaid.

The ride back to the palace was quiet but not peaceful. The silence wasn’t one of comfort, but of brewing storms. Satoru rode beside you, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched tightly as if holding back a flood of words. You could feel his gaze flicker toward you now and then, sharp and assessing, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Not that you needed him to speak to know what he was thinking. His anger was palpable, radiating off him like heat from a fire that hadn’t yet burned out.

The wind tugged at the torn edges of your gown, a constant reminder of the fight you had just won. You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, though it was beginning to fade, leaving behind a weariness that seeped into your bones. The thrill of battle was something you had never been able to resist, but it always came with a price. Now, as you neared the palace, that price felt heavier than ever. The fight was over, but you knew the real battle awaited you inside those stone walls.

You risked a glance at Satoru, who was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable. But you knew him well enough to see the signs—the tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the reins a little too tightly. He was angry, maybe even more than usual. His silence spoke volumes. You could almost hear the reprimand he was holding back, the same words he always threw at you after a dangerous encounter: You’re too reckless. You’re going to get yourself killed. Why don’t you ever think before you act?

But you weren’t about to apologize. You had done what needed to be done. You weren’t some fragile flower that needed constant protection, and it frustrated you that Satoru couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see that. You knew he cared, but sometimes his concern felt suffocating, like a chain that kept tightening around you. You weren’t just a princess locked away in a tower. You were a fighter, someone who could handle themselves in the face of danger. But convincing Satoru of that was a battle you never seemed to win.

Satoru’s concern cut deeper because you’d known him for so long. You weren’t just a princess to him, and he wasn’t just your knight—he was your childhood friend, someone who had stood by your side through countless trials. That connection was what made his anger sting all the more. He wasn’t angry because you were a princess who’d been reckless; he was angry because you were you, and he cared too much to see you put yourself in harm’s way.

You tried to shake off the irritation, but it clung to you as stubbornly as the dirt on your dress. Satoru hadn’t said much since the bandits attacked, just the occasional sharp comment about your recklessness. His voice still echoed in your mind, laced with a bitterness that stung more than any wound. "You think this is a joke, don’t you? Running around, playing hero. You could’ve been killed back there."

You knew he was right, at least partly. But the way he said it, like you were nothing but a foolish child playing at being a warrior, made your blood boil. Who was he to lecture you? He was just your knight, sworn to protect you, not to control you. He had no right to judge your choices, especially when you were the one who had to bear the weight of the crown someday. The crown he seemed to forget you were destined to wear.

The palace loomed ahead, its imposing towers and thick walls casting long shadows in the fading light. The closer you got, the heavier the sense of dread that settled in your chest. You could already imagine the scolding you’d receive from your father, the disapproving looks from the council. They wouldn’t care about the bandits you’d fought off, the danger you’d faced. They’d only see the torn dress, the dirt, the reckless princess who couldn’t stay out of trouble.

As you approached the main gates, Satoru finally spoke, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

His tone was sharp, laced with the irritation he’d been holding back for the entire ride. “You know,” he began, not looking at you, “one of these days, your luck’s going to run out. And when it does, I won’t be there to pull you out of the fire.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. The tension between you had been simmering since the fight, and now it felt like it was about to boil over. “I didn’t ask you to pull me out of anything,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” Satoru shot back, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Because getting ambushed by bandits and nearly getting yourself killed is just another day for you, right?”

You tightened your grip on the reins, trying to suppress the frustration building inside you. His words cut deep, not because of what he said, but because of the way he said it—like you were nothing but a burden, a reckless child who didn’t know better.

“I didn’t nearly get killed,” you retorted, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “I handled it, just like I always do. I’m not some helpless damsel you need to save every time something goes wrong.”

Satoru finally turned to look at you, his eyes flashing with anger. “No, you’re not helpless,” he said, his voice low and intense. “But you’re reckless. And one day, that’s going to get you in trouble you can’t fight your way out of.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You could feel the anger radiating off him, but beneath that, there was something else—fear. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was there, lurking behind the harsh words. Satoru was afraid for you, and that fear was what fueled his anger.

But instead of softening at the realization, you felt your own anger flare up. “You don’t get to decide how I live my life, Satoru,” you snapped, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions. “I’m not some fragile flower that needs to be kept under glass. I’m going to be queen one day, and I need to be able to fight my own battles.”

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “And what good is being queen if you’re dead before you even get the chance? You think just because you’re royal, you’re invincible? That nothing can touch you?”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond. The truth was, part of you did feel invincible—like nothing could truly harm you as long as you kept fighting, kept pushing forward. But Satoru’s words cut through that illusion, bringing the reality crashing down around you.

“I know I’m not invincible,” you said quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of you.

Satoru didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was softer, almost resigned. “Just don’t make me bury you, Y/N. That’s all I ask.”

The words hit you harder than anything else he’d said, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The thought of leaving him behind, of dying and never seeing him again, was something you couldn’t bear to think about. But you couldn’t let that fear control you. You had responsibilities, duties that went beyond your own safety.

“I won’t,” you promised, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

The palace gates creaked open, and as you rode through them, the tension between you and Satoru clung like a heavy fog. The silence was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the chaos of the fight that had just ended. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions pressed heavily on both of you, making each breath feel like an effort.

The ride through the palace grounds was quiet, each hoofbeat echoing in the cold air. The once-thrilling adrenaline of battle had dissipated, leaving a weary heaviness in its place. The torn edges of your gown flapped in the wind, a constant reminder of the skirmish and the mess you were about to face. The closer you got to the courtyard, the more the anxiety of returning to your father and the council weighed on you.

As you arrived in the courtyard, the scene was immediately filled with the unmistakable tension of disapproval. A group of guards stood at attention, their faces a mix of concern and irritation, while one of your father’s advisors, an elderly man with a stern demeanor, was clearly waiting for your arrival. His gaze shifted to your disheveled appearance, taking in the torn and dirt-streaked gown with an almost palpable disapproval.

The advisor’s eyes narrowed as he took in the state of your attire. “Princess Y/N,” he began, his voice carrying a sharp edge, “I trust you have a very good explanation for this?”

You dismounted with a weary sigh, trying to steady your nerves. The advisor’s scrutiny was the last thing you needed, but you knew better than to brush it off. “I’m fine,” you said, your tone firm though tired. “There was a bandit ambush. We handled it.”

The advisor’s frown deepened. “Handled it, you say? And what of the dress? This is hardly suitable attire for someone of your status.”

Before you could respond, Satoru, who had dismounted beside you, stepped forward. His face was still set in a hard line, but there was a note of frustration in his voice. “The dress can be repaired,” he said, his tone sharp. “The important thing is that she’s safe.”

The advisor looked between you and Satoru, clearly not impressed. “Safety is not the only concern, Lord Gojo. The princess’s appearance and behavior reflect directly on the crown.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened, and he shot you a quick, unreadable glance. The flicker of irritation in his eyes was almost imperceptible, but it was there. His anger wasn’t solely directed at the advisor or the situation. it was also a manifestation of his frustration with the entire situation, including your stubbornness and the danger you had willingly walked into.

You felt a surge of guilt and irritation. The bandits were no longer the issue; it was the aftermath—the judgment from those who couldn’t see past the torn fabric to the reality of what had happened.

The advisor's voice cut through the air, carrying an edge of reproach as he spoke. "We will need to discuss this matter further. Please proceed to the council chamber immediately. Your father is waiting for you."

You exchanged a brief, frustrated glance with Satoru before you nodded and replied, “Well, I’m here now. So lead the way.”

The advisor’s lips thinned, but he made no further comment as he turned on his heel and started walking towards the council chamber. You and Satoru followed closely behind, the sound of your boots echoing in the grand hallways of the palace. The opulence of your surroundings felt distant now, overshadowed by the tension that gripped you both.

As you walked, Satoru leaned in, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You know, you could at least try not to make things harder for yourself,” he said, his tone sharp and edged with frustration.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, replying in the same hushed tone, “And you could try not being such a nag. But I guess we can’t all get what we want.”

Satoru’s response was a soft snort, though there was a hint of genuine frustration in his voice. “Maybe if you actually listened to me once in a while, I wouldn’t have to nag.”

You quickened your pace, creating a bit of distance between you. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re the only one who knows anything, I might consider it.”

The conversation fizzled out as you reached the grand doors of the council chamber. They swung open to reveal a room filled with stern-faced nobles and advisors. The soft murmurs that had been filling the room fell to a hushed silence as the assembled crowd took in the state of your disheveled appearance. The dirt smeared across your face and the torn gown made a stark contrast against the polished grandeur of the palace.

At the head of the room stood your father, his face a storm of worry and barely concealed anger. The lines around his eyes deepened as he took in the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice heavy with a mix of frustration and concern. “Where have you been, and what on earth happened to you?”

You met his gaze, trying to steady your nerves under the intense scrutiny of the room. “I was out on a ride, and we encountered some bandits. We managed to handle the situation, but... well, this is the result.”

The council members exchanged looks, their whispers rising into a cacophony of disapproval and concern. You could feel the pressure mounting as your father’s gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t just upset about your appearance.

“Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in?” he demanded, his voice rising. “This isn’t just about your personal safety—it’s about the responsibilities you have to this kingdom. You can’t keep acting as if you’re invincible.”

Satoru remained silent by your side, his presence an unspoken weight in the midst of your father’s fiery reprimand. The tension in the room was palpable, a mixture of frustration and concern etched into Satoru’s features. Despite his silence, his presence seemed to amplify the gravity of the situation.

You struggled to maintain your composure, the scrutiny from your father and the council members weighing heavily on you. “I understand your concerns, Father. But there are times when immediate action is necessary.”

Your father’s stern gaze softened just a fraction, though his voice remained firm. “That’s not the issue here. You have a responsibility to protect yourself as much as you have a duty to safeguard the kingdom. Charging into danger without proper preparation or escort endangers not only yourself but those who are tasked with your protection.”

Satoru, unable to hold back any longer, stepped forward. His irritation was clear in his tone. “Maybe if you spent less time trying to prove how invincible you are, and more time considering the consequences of your actions, we wouldn’t be dealing with this right now.”

You glared at him, your frustration boiling over. “And maybe if you weren’t so busy controlling every aspect of my life, you’d actually see that I can handle myself just fine.”

The room crackled with tension, the sharp words hanging heavily in the air. Before the argument could escalate further, your father’s authoritative voice cut through the discord. “Enough, both of you,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “We will address this matter further later. For now, Y/N, go and make yourself presentable.”

You clenched your fists, biting back a retort. With one last glare at Satoru, you turned and stormed out of the room, your torn dress trailing behind you. Satoru’s footsteps echoed behind you as he followed, and you couldn’t help but feel the familiar mixture of frustration and… something else whenever he was near.

As you headed toward your chambers, the silence between you and Satoru was thick and charged. The grand corridors of the palace seemed to amplify the tension, each echo of your footsteps underscoring the unspoken frustration between you.

Satoru caught up to you with a determined stride, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice laced with irritation. “You know, it’s not just about you trying to prove how tough you are. It’s about all of us who have to clean up the mess when things go wrong.”

You shot him a sharp look. “And here I thought you were just my knight, not my babysitter.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s a lot easier to keep you out of trouble when you don’t keep running headfirst into it. Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could’ve been seriously hurt, or worse.”

You felt a sting at his words, but you bit back a retort. “I can handle myself. Maybe if you didn’t act like you’re the only one with a brain around here, I wouldn’t feel the need to prove that.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched. “Oh, right. Because risking your life is the best way to prove you’re capable. You know, sometimes I wonder if you do this on purpose, just to get a reaction out of me.”

You stopped in your tracks, spinning to face him. “And maybe if you stopped being so overbearing, I��d actually listen to you once in a while. I’m not a child, Satoru. I don’t need to be shielded from every danger.”

His eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and something softer, almost pained. “It’s not about shielding you. It's about keeping you alive. But if you’re so determined to ignore everyone who cares about you, then fine.Do whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to always be there to pick up the pieces.”

“Don’t worry, Satoru. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Without waiting for a reply, you slammed the door behind you, the resounding thud echoing in the corridor. Satoru stood there, his face a complex mask of frustration and concern, but you didn’t give him a second glance.

You made your way to a full-length mirror positioned against one wall of your chamber. The sight that greeted you only fueled your irritation. The gown that had been a symbol of elegance and grace was now a tattered mess, its once-pristine fabric stained with mud and torn in several places. The dirt smeared across your face made you look every bit the disheveled warrior rather than the poised princess you were supposed to be.

As you began to untangle the tangled fabric, the task quickly proved to be more overwhelming than you anticipated. The corset, which had once fit comfortably, now felt like a confining cage, a stark reminder of the expectations and constraints that weighed heavily on you. The delicate silk was now in shreds, and the frustration of the day seemed to pile on top of the physical mess in front of you.

Just as you were about to give up on the gown, a knock at the door drew your attention. You turned to see one of your maids standing in the doorway. Her familiar, soothing voice broke through your turbulent thoughts.

“Princess Y/N? May I come in?”

Grateful for the interruption, you managed a curt nod. “Yes, come in.”

The maid entered with a look of concern as she took in the state of your appearance. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your torn dress and the dirt streaked across your face, but she quickly masked her surprise with a professional demeanor.

“Oh, my! What happened to you?” she asked, her tone a mixture of worry and astonishment.

“It’s nothing,” you replied sharply, though your voice lacked the conviction you hoped for. “Just… a bit of trouble on my ride.”

Without further prompting, the maid began to work on the gown, deftly maneuvering the fabric and doing her best to salvage what she could. As she worked, her gentle hands and quiet presence offered a brief respite from the chaos of the day. You sank onto a nearby chair, feeling the weight of the events pressing down on you. The adrenaline was gone, leaving behind a weariness that made every action feel like an effort.

As the maid continued to repair the damage, you found yourself staring blankly at the reflection in the mirror. The image of yourself, so unlike the poised princess you were expected to be, brought a fresh wave of frustration. The torn gown and dirt-streaked face were stark reminders of the day's struggles, both physical and emotional.

The maid worked in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “It’ll take some time to get this dress back to its former state, Your Highness. Would you like me to fetch a new gown or perhaps a bath to help you relax?”

You shook your head, the urgency of the situation driving your decision. “No, there’s no time for a bath. I need to change and get ready for the meeting. Just help me get into something presentable quickly.”

The maid nodded, understanding your urgency. “Of course, Princess. I’ll fetch something suitable for you to wear.”

You could hear Satoru’s voice echoing from outside your chambers, tinged with impatience. “Are you done yet? We’re already late. No amount of time will fix you, trust me.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated by his usual sharpness. “I’m almost ready,” you called back, trying to keep your tone steady despite your growing frustration.

While she went to find a new dress, you started unfastening the torn gown with clumsy fingers, trying to ease the tangled fabric from your body. The act of undressing only heightened your frustration as the corset constricted your movements.

A few moments later, the maid returned with a more practical dress—simple but elegant, better suited to withstand a day of duties. You quickly changed into it, the soft fabric offering a slight relief from the tattered gown. As the maid adjusted the new dress and made minor adjustments, you took a deep breath, focusing on regaining your composure.

When she was done, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. The new dress wasn’t as elaborate as the one you had worn, but it was clean and presentable. The dirt on your face had been cleaned away, but the fresh look only highlighted the fatigue and stress in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you said to the maid, your voice softer now, though still edged with the urgency of the situation.

“You’re welcome, Princess,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “You look ready to face the council.”

As you opened the door to leave your chambers, you nearly bumped into Satoru, who was waiting just outside. His gaze quickly took in your new attire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of relief and irritation.

“Finally,” he said, his tone betraying both exasperation and a touch of amusement. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

You frowned and glanced down at your dress, feeling a sudden pang of self-consciousness. “Yes? What’s wrong with it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you met his gaze.

Satoru’s expression remained neutral, but the slight smirk on his lips told a different story. “Nothing, it’s just that it’s a bit… plain. I expected something a bit more impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your annoyance. “Isn’t the point to blend in rather than stand out? I’m not here to make a fashion statement.”

Satoru shrugged, his shoulders lifting slightly in a nonchalant manner. “Sure, blending in might be the goal. But if you want to make an impression—or avoid further criticism—maybe you should have gone for something with a bit more presence. This dress isn’t exactly going to win you any favors.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of his comment add to your already high stress levels. “Could you at least try to be supportive for once?” you muttered under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration.

Satoru’s eyes flickered with a hint of surprise, but his expression quickly hardened again. “I’m just trying to be honest. If you want to make an impact, you need to do more than just show up. And you know as well as I do that appearances matter.”

You shook your head, feeling your irritation boil over. “Right, because you’re such an expert on what’s appropriate for me. I’ll just add ‘fashion advisor’ to your list of duties.”

Satoru didn’t respond, his silence amplifying the tension between you. You both walked briskly down the corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls. His presence, once comforting, now felt like an added burden.

The grand doors of the council chamber loomed ahead, their imposing presence adding to the weight of the moment. As you approached, you took a deep breath, doing your best to ignore the discomfort of the corset and the restrictive nature of your dress. The anticipation was palpable, the pressure of what was to come pressing down on you with each step.

When the doors swung open, a hush fell over the room. The council chamber, lined with ornate tapestries and heavy wooden furniture, was filled with nobles and advisors, all turned toward you with varying degrees of interest. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to thinly veiled judgment, and you could feel the scrutiny like a physical force.

You walked to the center of the room, determined to present yourself with confidence despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The head of the council, an elderly man with a sharp gaze and a graying beard, looked up from his seat. His eyes, though kind, held a hint of skepticism that made your heart race.

“Princess,” he began, his voice echoing through the chamber, “we were beginning to wonder if you would make it.”

You met his gaze steadily, trying to mask any hint of unease. “I’m here now,” you replied, your voice firm. “Let’s proceed.”

Satoru, who had followed closely behind you, positioned himself slightly to your side. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by a more serious expression, though his eyes never left you. The council members, who had been murmuring amongst themselves, fell silent, their eyes flicking between you and Satoru with varying degrees of curiosity and assessment.

Your father, seated among the council members, cast a critical eye over you as you entered the room. “Ah, Y/N,” he began with a forced cheerfulness, “Don‘t you look beautiful right now. Much better than you did in that torn dress, wouldn’t you agree, Satoru?”

You shot a brief, uncomfortable glance at your father, whose tendency to comment on your appearance and then seek Satoru’s validation always put you on edge. It was as though your father valued Satoru’s opinion more than your own, and it often left you feeling awkward.

Satoru, though he caught the underlying tension in the room, offered a polite smile. “Indeed, Your Highness,” he said smoothly. “Princess Y/N looks as perfect as ever.”

With a decisive clearing of his throat, the head of the council drew everyone’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, let us address the matter at hand.”

He looked directly at you, his expression serious. “Princess Y/N, as you know, our kingdom’s future stability hinges on more than just defending it from bandits or ensuring its safety. It is also crucial that you fulfill your duty to ensure the continuation of the royal bloodline.”

You braced yourself for what was coming next. The topic of your marriage had been an ever-present shadow, hovering over you for months. The weight of this responsibility felt like an anchor around your neck. Your role in finding a suitable match to ensure the survival of the royal bloodline was an expectation you could hardly escape

“The council has been discussing the urgency of securing an heir,” the head of the council continued. “It is imperative that you marry soon and produce an heir to continue the bloodline. The stability of our kingdom and the future of our dynasty depend on it.”

The room’s atmosphere grew heavy with the gravity of the statement. You could sense the murmurs of agreement from the council members, their eyes fixed on you, awaiting your response. Your father’s gaze was stern, a reminder of the familial and political pressure weighing on your shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, you faced the council head-on. “I understand the importance of securing an heir,” you said, your voice steady despite the pressure. “But can we not consider the urgency of finding the right partner rather than rushing into a marriage that may not be in the best interest of the kingdom?”

The head of the council’s eyebrows furrowed. “We’re not suggesting you act recklessly, Princess. However, the sooner you marry, the sooner we can ensure the future stability of the realm. Time is of the essence.”

Your father’s eyes softened slightly, though the firmness of his words remained. “Your duty to the kingdom requires you to balance personal desires with the needs of the state. It’s time to prioritize the future of our dynasty.”

The weight of their words pressed down on you, the realization of your role in the kingdom’s future becoming all too clear. You had always known the responsibilities of being a princess, but hearing it so directly was a stark reminder of the sacrifices and decisions that lay ahead.

As you tried to absorb the gravity of the situation, you could feel Satoru’s presence beside you, his gaze intense but unreadable. He said nothing, but his silence was a reminder of the support and understanding he offered, even in the midst of the council’s scrutiny.

The head of the council cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “To address the pressing matter of securing a suitable match for Princess Y/N, we propose hosting a grand ball. This will provide an opportunity for eligible suitors to present themselves, allowing the princess to meet potential candidates.”

The room filled with murmurs of agreement, and you could feel the weight of the suggestion settling heavily on your shoulders. A ball would not only thrust your personal life into the public eye but also place immense pressure on you to find a match quickly. The tension in the room was palpable, and you knew this was not just about finding a partner—it was about aligning with another royal family.

Your father nodded in approval. “Indeed, a ball will not only facilitate meeting potential suitors but also demonstrate our kingdom’s prosperity and strength. It’s a tradition that has proven effective in the past.”

You glanced at Satoru, who was standing beside you. His usual composure faltered for a moment as the council’s discussion turned more serious. When the head of the council said, “It is crucial that Princess Y/N marry a royal from a different family. This union will strengthen alliances and secure our kingdom’s position,” Satoru’s face twitched slightly.

A subtle cringe crossed his features, barely noticeable but unmistakable if you were paying close attention. His jaw tightened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if trying to suppress his discomfort. The mention of marrying into another royal family seemed to hit him harder than he intended to let on.

The head of the council continued, oblivious to Satoru’s reaction, “The ball will ensure we find a suitable candidate who meets these requirements.”

You caught Satoru’s eye, and his expression was a mix of frustration and concern. He clenched his fists briefly before forcing his face back into a neutral mask. The hint of annoyance in his gaze, however, was hard to ignore.

Satoru’s frustration broke through as he spoke up, his voice laced with irritation. “A ball, really? Because nothing says ‘find a husband’ like parading the princess around like a trophy.”

The head of the council looked at Satoru, slightly taken aback. “It is a time-honored tradition, Sir Gojo. It’s the most effective way to ensure Princess Y/N meets candidates who are both capable and of high standing.”

You shot Satoru a sharp look and took a deep breath, trying to mask your unease. “I appreciate the council’s efforts,” you began, “but I must express my concerns. A ball feels like an imposition. I believe it’s important to take the time to thoroughly evaluate potential suitors, rather than making a decision based on a single evening.”

“We understand your concerns, Princess Y/N, but the ball will proceed as planned. It is essential to our kingdom’s future to marry into another royal family to solidify our position and forge necessary alliances.”

You tried to maintain your composure, but the weight of the council’s decision was heavy. “I understand the importance of finding a suitable match,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “But rushing this process doesn’t seem prudent. There must be another way to approach this without putting so much pressure on me.”

The council members exchanged glances, their murmurs now tinged with a mixture of agreement and dissent. Your father’s gaze softened slightly, but his determination remained firm. “The ball is a necessary step,” he said. “We need to move forward with it. The future of the kingdom depends on it.”

As the council turned to discuss the specifics of the ball—finalizing guest lists, drafting invitations, and other intricate details—you felt the enormity of the upcoming event pressing heavily on you. The realization that your personal life was being turned into a political spectacle was almost overwhelming. It was as if you were being reduced to a mere pawn in a game of alliances and power plays.

Satoru, standing slightly behind you, had retreated into a rare silence. His usual banter and teasing were absent, replaced by a tense stillness that was almost palpable. Though he didn’t speak, his presence provided a form of quiet support. His silence seemed to amplify the weight of the situation, a tacit acknowledgment of the immense pressure you were under.

You could feel his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, his concern evident despite his outward composure. The frustration he had shown earlier was now tempered with a more subdued, but no less intense, support. It was clear that he understood the gravity of the situation, even if he had struggled to express it earlier.

As you and Satoru exited the council chamber, the weight of the meeting pressed heavily on your shoulders. The grand ball was looming, and you were already dreading the upcoming spectacle.

Satoru, noticing your troubled demeanor, couldn't resist a bit of teasing. "So, how does it feel to be the center of attention for all the wrong reasons? I bet you're thrilled to be paraded around like a prize."

You shot him a sharp look, frustration bubbling up. "Oh, really? You think it's funny? I'm not exactly looking forward to being scrutinized by everyone."

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not funny—just the reality. You should embrace it. Think of it as a chance to show off those 'charming' qualities they're so eager to see."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the sting of his words. "Charming qualities, huh? Like my ability to endure endless scrutiny and put on a perfect smile?"

"Exactly," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If anyone can pull this off, it's you. Just try not to let them see how much you're actually dreading it. It'll be more fun for everyone that way."

You couldn't help but let out a short, exasperated laugh. "Well, thanks for the pep talk. I'm sure it'll make the experience so much more bearable."

Satoru's grin widened. "Anytime. And don't worry, I'm sure the men will be falling over themselves to meet you. After all, you're not just a princess—you're the princess who's about to make their lives infinitely more complicated."

You shook your head, unable to stifle a small smile despite the tension. "You really know how to make a difficult situation seem even more unbearable."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? It's a talent. But seriously, if you need someone to help you navigate this circus, you know where to find me."

You nodded, appreciating the rare moment of genuine support behind his teasing exterior. "I'll keep that in mind. And try not to be annoying in the meantime."

Satoru chuckled as you walked side by side down the corridor. "I promise nothing."

As you and Satoru continued down the corridor, the tension from the council meeting lingered, but there was a subtle shift in the air between you. His presence, as infuriating as it could be, was also oddly comforting. You walked in silence for a while, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

Just as you were about to comment on the absurdity of the situation, a young maiden stepped into your path. She was one of the palace servants, her simple dress and demure posture marking her as such, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she looked up at Satoru.

"Sir Gojo," she greeted with a soft smile, her voice lilting with a hint of flirtation. "It's been a while since I've seen you around. I was beginning to think you were avoiding us poor maidens."

Satoru stopped in his tracks, and you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor—a playful smirk tugged at his lips, and his usual nonchalance morphed into something a bit more charming. "Avoiding you? Now, why would I do that?" he replied, his voice dropping into a smooth, flirtatious tone that made your eyes involuntarily roll.

The maiden giggled softly, her cheeks flushing as she glanced up at him through her lashes. "Well, with all your duties, I thought maybe you'd forgotten about us."

Satoru leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Forgotten? Not a chance. It's hard to forget someone as lovely as you."

You watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, unsure whether to be irritated by his shameless flirting or impressed by how easily he slipped into this role. Satoru had always been good at charming those around him, but seeing it in action, especially now, was a reminder of how effortless it was for him to play this game.

The maiden blushed deeper, clearly taken by his attention. "You're too kind, Sir Gojo. Perhaps we could catch up later, if your duties allow?"

"Perhaps," Satoru replied, his tone light. "Though I can't promise I'll be able to stay away from you for too long."

You crossed your arms, feeling the need to interrupt before this flirtation dragged on any longer. "Satoru, we don't have all day. Or have you forgotten about the ball preparations already?"

He glanced at you, an eyebrow raised, but the smirk never left his face. "I haven't forgotten. But it wouldn't hurt to take a break every now and then, would it?"

"Not when there's work to be done," you shot back, your voice tinged with impatience.

The maiden, sensing the shift in mood, quickly curtsied to both of you. "Of course, Your Highness. Sir Gojo. I won't keep you any longer." She gave Satoru one last smile before slipping away down the corridor, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Satoru watched her go for a moment before turning back to you, his expression still annoyingly amused. "Jealous, are we?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes again. "Hardly. But if you're going to waste time flirting with every maiden who crosses your path, maybe I should find someone more focused to help me."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, Y/N. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone. Besides, I'm more than capable of multitasking."

"Maybe," you conceded, starting to walk again. "But if you keep this up—."

Satoru fell into step beside you, his usual playful demeanor intact. "Don't worry, Princess. I'm not about to let anyone else steal your attention—not before I've had my fun."

You couldn't help but shake your head at his words, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself. "You really are impossible, Satoru."

"And yet, you keep me around," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I must be doing something right."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Satoru's presence, frustrating as it could be, was something you'd come to rely on.

But as you continued walking side by side, the playful banter that usually filled the space between you did little to ease the underlying tension. His flirtation with the maid had struck a chord, one that resonated deeper than you'd expected. You stole a glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but he appeared perfectly at ease, as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

You quickened your pace slightly, as if the physical distance could help you escape the thoughts swirling in your mind. The jealousy you felt was an unwelcome intruder, one you tried to dismiss as irrational. After all, this was just how Satoru was—charming, flirtatious, and completely at ease with everyone. You were used to it by now, you told yourself. It shouldn't bother you.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the feeling lingered, gnawing at the edges of your composure. Satoru, of course, kept pace effortlessly, his lighthearted demeanor seemingly unaffected by your sudden change in mood. It was as if he hadn't noticed the shift at all—or worse, that he had noticed and simply didn't care.

"So," you began, trying to keep your tone neutral, "How many more maidens do you plan on charming today?"

Satoru glanced at you, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "Should I be flattered that you're paying such close attention to it now?"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm just wondering how you manage to get anything done when you spend half your time flirting."

He let out a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly as if in thought. "You heard her—I haven't been with any maidens for a while, so I'm clearly not spending half my time flirting. But now that you mention it, maybe I should change that. That maiden did seem quite lovely, didn't she?"

Satoru's words struck a nerve, and you felt a flare of irritation rise within you. He said it so casually, as if it didn't matter at all, as if he could just switch his attention from one person to the next without a second thought.

"Oh, really?" you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady but failing to mask the edge of jealousy creeping in. "Well, don't let me stop you. I'm sure the maids would love to have your undivided attention."

He tilted his head, his grin widening as he took in your reaction. "Why, Princess, you almost sound jealous. Could it be that you're not as indifferent as you pretend to be?"

You rolled your eyes, your arms still crossed defensively. "Jealous? Hardly. I just don't see why you have to be such a... a manwhore about it."

You continued,"I just find it amusing how you spread your charm so thin. You must be exhausted, keeping up that act all the time."

His smile widened, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he saw right through your attempt to deflect. "It's not an act, Princess. I'm just naturally charming. Besides, it's harmless fun. You know you're the only one who gets under my skin."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you quickly masked it with a sarcastic retort. "Oh, lucky me. I'm the one who gets the full brunt of your insufferable personality. How special."

Satoru chuckled, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. "You are special. But I wouldn't expect you to admit that."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. "Stop flattering yourself, Satoru. It's unbecoming."

He laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "I'm not flattering myself. Just stating the obvious. But if it bothers you so much, I can tone it down—at least when you're around."

You frowned, hating how he always seemed to turn the tables on you. "It's not that it bothers me. I'm just curious how you manage to stay focused on anything serious when you're so easily sidetracked by a pretty face."

Satoru stopped walking, turning to face you with a serious expression. "Y/N, I've never been distracted when it comes to you. Not once. And you know you're pretty."

He chuckled, adding, "But of course, I get distracted by beauty sometimes. After all, I'm still a man with needs." His eyes lingered on you, hinting that his distraction wasn't just about any beauty—it was something more personal.

His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. For a moment, you were caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze, realizing that his distraction might sometimes be directed toward you. The weight of his gaze made you uneasy, as if he had just hinted at something deeper.

Then, just as quickly, he broke the tension with a grin, letting the moment slip away as easily as it had come.

"Anyway," he said lightly, "don't worry about the maids. They're nice and all, but none of them keep me on my toes like you do."

You shook your head.

-

Later that evening, after the council meeting and the unsettling conversation with Satoru, you found yourself alone in your chambers. The grand ball was only a few days away, and the weight of the decisions that lay ahead bore down on you like a leaden cloak. The pressure to secure a politically advantageous marriage, the expectations of your father and the council, and the unresolved tension with Satoru—it all swirled in your mind like a storm that wouldn't abate.

You wandered over to the large window at the far end of your room, pushing the heavy drapes aside. The evening sky was a deep shade of indigo, with the first stars beginning to twinkle faintly. The palace grounds stretched out beneath you, the manicured gardens and courtyards bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Beyond the walls, you could see the distant lights of the town, a reminder of the world that awaited you outside these stone confines.

Leaning against the window frame, you let out a sigh, your breath fogging the glass slightly. The cool night air felt soothing against your skin, a welcome contrast to the oppressive heat of the day's events. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to gather your thoughts, but they were as elusive as the wind.

Your gaze drifted over the familiar landscape, your thoughts turning inward. You'd always loved this view—the way the palace seemed to stand as a fortress against the world, offering a sense of security. But tonight, it felt more like a cage. The walls that had once protected you now felt like barriers, keeping you from the freedom you craved.

You thought of the upcoming ball, of the parade of noblemen who would try to win your favor, each one a potential suitor with his own agenda. The idea of marrying into another royal family, of becoming someone's pawn in a political game, filled you with a deep sense of dread. You'd always known that this was your destiny, that as a princess, your life was not entirely your own. But knowing didn't make it any easier to accept.

And then there was Satoru. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, his teasing and flirtation tinged with an undercurrent of something more. You had known each other since childhood, and his presence in your life had always been a constant. But lately, things had shifted between you, the lines between friendship and something more blurring in ways that left you feeling off-balance.

The thought of Satoru made your chest tighten, a confusing mix of emotions swirling within you. He was infuriating, insufferable even, but there was no denying the connection you shared. The way he could make you laugh, even when you wanted to strangle him, the way he seemed to understand you in a way no one else did—it was all so complicated. And the jealousy you'd felt earlier, seeing him flirt so easily with the maid, had caught you off guard, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been trying to ignore.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. This was no time for distractions. You had to focus on what lay ahead, on the decisions that would shape not only your future but the future of the kingdom. Yet, as you stood there, looking out at the world beyond the palace walls, you couldn't help but wish for a different life—one where you had the freedom to choose your own path, to follow your heart instead of your duty.

But that was a fantasy, one that had no place in the reality you faced. With a resigned sigh, you turned away from the window, the cool air brushing against your skin like a fleeting promise of the freedom you could never truly have.

Just as you turned away from the window, lost in your thoughts, the door to your chambers creaked open. You glanced up, startled, to see Satoru stepping inside without so much as a knock. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a more serious expression that caught you off guard.

"Satoru," you began, but he raised a hand to stop you, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you.

"You were thinking too hard, I could hear you from my room" he said, his tone half-joking, half-concerned as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

You gave him a tired look, your earlier frustration with him simmering just beneath the surface. "Do you ever knock?"

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, I figured you could use the company."

You sighed, turning your gaze back to the window, though you were acutely aware of his presence just a few steps away. "I'm not in the mood for your teasing tonight, Satoru."

For a moment, he said nothing, and you almost thought he'd left. But then you heard his footsteps, soft on the thick carpet, as he moved closer. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious than you were used to from him.

"Alright, no more jokes," he said. "You seem to be carrying a lot. What's going on?" His unexpected sincerity made you glance at him. He stood beside you, looking out at the same view you had been absorbed in moments before.

"Why are you here, Satoru?" you asked quietly, your exhaustion evident in your voice.

He didn't answer immediately, his blue eyes scanning the emerging stars. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted, his tone unusually candid. "Maybe because I care."

You gave a tired chuckle, the edge of your frustration softening. "Wow, Gojo Satoru cares? That's new."

He looked at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I might surprise you sometimes."

You shook your head, a wry smile forming on your lips despite yourself. "Is this one of those rare moments?"

"Maybe," he replied with a playful glint in his eye. "Or maybe I just know when someone I care about is struggling."

You felt a flicker of warmth at his words, but you quickly suppressed it, reminding yourself that this was Satoru—the same infuriating man who'd spent the day flirting with maids and poking fun at you.

"You don't have to worry about me," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I can handle it."

"I know you can," he replied, his gaze finally shifting from the window to you. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop caring or offering support. Sometimes, it's the least I can do."

You studied his face, trying to reconcile this unexpected display of concern with the Satoru you were used to. The genuine look in his eyes was at odds with his usual playful demeanor, and it made you feel vulnerable.

"This is all just... politics," you said, trying to sound dismissive. "I'll go to the ball, meet the suitors, and do what's expected of me. It's what I've been trained for, after all."

Satoru's expression darkened slightly, and you noticed his hands clenching at his sides. "And that's it? You're just going to do what they tell you, marry some royal from another family because it's what's 'expected'?"

The edge in his voice surprised you, but you refused to let it sway you. "That's what being a princess is, Satoru. It's about duty, about sacrifice."

He took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space between you. "And what about what you want? What about your happiness?"

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "What I want doesn't matter," you said, more harshly than you intended. "This isn't about me."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then Satoru sighed,"You're always doing this," he muttered, half to himself.

"Doing what?" you demanded, crossing your arms defensively.

Satoru's frustration was palpable as he ran a hand through his hair. "You put everyone else first, always sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of duty."

His words hit harder than you expected. "What do you know about it, Satoru?" you retorted. "You're not the one expected to marry for political gain. You don't have to choose between what's right for the kingdom and what's right for yourself."

Satoru's gaze was intense, his voice low but steady. "Maybe I don't, but I know you're more than just a pawn in this game. You deserve to have a say in your own life."

You shook your head, feeling a mix of anger and sorrow. "I've accepted my role. It's my responsibility."

Satoru stepped even closer, his voice softening. "But does that mean you have to resign yourself to a future you don't want? I know you feel trapped, but you can still fight for what you want."

For a moment, the room was heavy with silence, the tension thickening the air. You looked away,"It's not that simple," you said, your voice trembling. "There are consequences I can't ignore."

Satoru's eyes were soft with concern. "What consequences?"

You let out a shaky breath, your thoughts turning to the day's events. "You saw what happened today when I defied my father and went into the forest instead of attending the council meeting. He was furious. I need to do better, follow the rules."

You turned to him, feeling a surge of frustration.

"You even told me to stop being reckless, saying, 'One day your luck will run out and no one will be there to save you.' Remember? So why are you suddenly against me acting like a princess? What changed?"

Satoru's expression softened, his gaze searching yours. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but hesitated, the weight of his own words clearly affecting him.

He looked at you. "Just please be yourself," he said earnestly. "I don't mind if you're reckless or if you make mistakes. I just don't want to see you lose who you are trying to fit into a mold that's not you."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "It's not that simple, Satoru."

He shook his head gently. "I know it's not easy, but you're stronger than you think. And whatever happens, I'll be here for you."

The sincerity in his voice was comforting, and you allowed yourself a moment of respite from your worries. "Thank you, Satoru. I appreciate it."

He gave a playful shrug, the familiar smirk returning. "Don't mention it. Besides, it's not every day I get to be the serious one. I'm kind of enjoying it."

A genuine laugh escaped you, the tension easing just a bit. "Don't get used to it."

"Whatever you say, Princess," he said, his voice light again, though you could see the shadow in his eyes. "Just remember, I'll be there at that ball. And I'll be watching."

You forced a smile in return, though it didn't reach your eyes. "Good. Maybe you can keep me entertained while I'm paraded around."

He laughed, the sound almost normal, but as he turned to leave, you couldn't shake the feeling that something important had just been left unsaid.

As the door closed behind him, you were left alone once more, staring at the spot where he'd stood, your thoughts more tangled than ever.

Whatever you were feeling, it didn't matter. Satoru was your childhood friend, someone who had always been there, someone you could rely on. He was insufferable, always flirting and teasing, but that was just who he was. There was nothing more to it, nothing more to analyze.

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

banner art belongs to _3aem

[lady-of-blossoms]

「 ✦ Whispers of heartbreak 2!✦ 」

Part 2

Part 1

____________________

Gojo has ignored you for the past week, and has only payed attention to Rebecca

When you walk into your bedroom you get jump scared by seeing a woman lying in your and gojo’s master bedroom, the woman in question, Rebecca, was just reading a book.

"Rebecca??? Why are you in my bedroom???" You said perplexed voice.

"Oh, Y/N?, why are you here, in **my** bedroom?" she stammered out in a gasp

“What…what do you mean you’re bedroom?, this is mine and gojo’s bedroo-" you were in the middle of speaking but you get interrupted by gojo opening the bathroom door, looking like he just went out the shower

"Y/N? Oh, I probably forgot to tell you, this is mine and Rebecca’s room now" he said in a calm manner as her lays down and cups Rebecca’s waist

"What….No, this is my room…?” You said on the verge of tears, but you fidget with your nails behind your back

"No Y/N, not anymore, you can have the guest room" he said as he passionately kisses Rebecca’s cheek

That’s your breaking point, everything shatters but have you keep in because you’ve never been important to anyone. "Oh..ok, hope you guys are comfortable" you say while forcing a smile and leaving the room, as soon as you leave the room you sprint to the guest bedroom.

As soon as you arrive to the guest room you fall into the floor and you crumble completly, you clutch your heart through your shirt and sob, tears freely stream down your face, you think about how this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been infertile.

You take a razer blade out of your pocket, and then you start cutting, your delicate skin on your thighs and arms cut up and bleeding, the only thought going through your head is "who is gonna comfort me when blood is dripping down my arms and thighs". You end up falling asleep cuddling yourself and rubbing your own back, while clutching a test.

…..part 3?

Taglist: @kuro-chi69 @kalopsia-flaneur @aishies-stuff @luns-exlipse @anonnieghost @aqxllo @chatoicboy @sashisuslover @forever-war @nssatre @sukunaspillow @qashmer

PS: IM SO SORRY ABOUT THE RANDOMNESS IN THIS CHAPTER😭😔

[flaneurs-letterbox]

taglist / masterlist / tag meanings

୨୧ introduction post

⸝⸝⸝　tags

#୨୧ ask - any posts where an ask is answered #୨୧ from flaneur - an ask which is answered by flaneur #୨୧ mod spoon - an ask which is answered by the mod, me

#୨୧ lore - a post which has significant lore answered #୨୧ not canon - when an ask is answered but will not be largely considered canon to flaneur's story / character.

⸝⸝⸝　ask series any series of asks and replies that are strongly connected...

[alygator77]

mhm extended taglist:

@megumuro @roxytheimmortal @youcantseem3 @vorfreudevortex @iveivory

@nanasukii28 @lovelyjulieee @ivana013-blog @psychoanalyze0 @lilacwh0re

@rovckwells @milkm4nz  @an-ever-angry-bj @satxoru  @justcupidhere

@moonz33 @aducksmokingquack @kalopsia-flaneur @caratinluv @luna-v-roiya

@bloopsstuff @diary-of-a-lazy-woman @vm4879bb-blog @crybabytoru @ureuphoriasworld

@suguruscousin

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse from naoya but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical)

ꨄ words: 10.5k

ꨄ a/n. hello my mhm lovelies :') i've missed writing this fic dearly! please note, this is not chapter 7—however, i will be releasing ch 7 this month. this is just a fun little side chapter with some family domesticity for the autumn season. taking place sometime after reader/satoru become official. ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎

ch 6.5 // harvesting happiness

As the crisp autumn air has arrived, it brings with it a feeling of change—and perhaps nature itself is subtly acknowledging just how much your life has shifted.

It’s baffling. Your time in the Gojo estate has been nothing short of eventful—and it feels like just yesterday you stood in front of Satoru, proposing an arrangement that was as unexpected as it was necessary. But now, with the leaves turning a fiery shade of red, orange, and gold, you realize just how quietly and quickly fall has crept in.

And with all this change, your relationship with Satoru has begun to reshape as well—a new chapter, freshly inked. No secrets, no acts—just the three of you, finding your footing in this new arrangement you’ve embarked on.

But one thing hasn’t changed—Satoru simply can’t say no to Haru.

It’s something that’s too cute for its own good—watching him wrapped around her small little finger, treating her like the princess she is. Ahh…but it’s even cuter how he tries to hide it. Satoru has a heart of gold, and though he may use his wit and charm as a mask, you’ve come to see through most of his tricks now—especially when it involves Haru.

And Haru? Well, lately she has really started to become attached to Satoru—in ways that even surprise you. Everything has been ‘toru this - ‘toru that. The trouble with it? Well... ’toru doesn’t have all the experience of handling a kid, let alone a two-year-old. But day by day, he is learning.

Fall is Haru’s favorite season, ironic given her name translates to “spring.” She adores everything about it—the cool, crisp air that calls for cuddles and cozy sweaters, the cinnamon pumpkin treats that have become a staple in the kitchen, and the magic of “spooky season,” as she calls it.

The latest item on her list? A trip to the pumpkin patch.

The idea had come up over breakfast, as you sipped your chai and watched Haru list off her autumn plans with boundless enthusiasm. The moment she had flashed those wide, hopeful eyes at you both, of course Satoru offered to take her—he stepped in immediately and you’d been surprised but delighted by the offer.

And now, you’re embarking on this journey together—off to the pumpkin patch. You head down the stairs of the Gojo’s estate with Haru’s little hand nestled in yours—chattering excitedly about all the things she wants to do and see at the pumpkin patch.

“Let’s find a big pumpkin, Mama! I wanna pet the animals!”

You smile, nodding along, but as you reach the end of the stairs, glancing into the foyer, you’re greeted by a sight entirely unexpected.

Satoru leans casually against the banister, scrolling through his phone, but he’s dressed down in a way you’ve never seen. Gone are his usual tailored suits and designer dress shoes—instead, he’s wearing an oversized hoodie, a pair of well-worn jeans, and, most surprisingly, a black beanie snug over his white hair. The only familiar accessory he wears is that pair of round, dark sunglasses resting upon the bridge of his nose.

Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, he glances up from his phone, grinning.

“Well, look at you, Mr. Gojo,” you smirk, stepping closer. “You almost look…normal.”

A low hum rumbles from his chest as he takes off his sunglasses for a moment, letting you catch sight of that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“Almost?” he feigns offense, pushing off from the banister. “Aw man, that’s disappointing, considering that this,” he gestures at his outfit, “is premium low-profile attire.”

You snort, reaching up to playfully tug on one of the strings of his hoodie.

“I didn’t realize you had a whole ‘undercover’ look ready to go.”

“Well… yeah,” he leans forward and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Life of a celebrity, sweetheart. Last thing we need is the pumpkin paparazzi swarming us. I’d rather they didn’t ruin Haru’s big day out.”

His words make you pause, a gentle warmth filling your chest at his thoughtfulness—but before you can respond, a tiny voice chimes in.

“‘toru, you look like a spy!” Haru’s small hand grips the fabric of his jeans, her face alight with excitement as she gazes up at him.

Satoru chuckles, turning his attention fully to her. As he crouches down to meet her gaze, his own expression softens.

“A spy, huh? You’re onto something princess.” He gently ruffles her hair. “Alright… here’s the deal. You can be my sidekick, but only if you keep my secret.” He puts a finger to his lips, and whispers. “No one can know who I really am. It’ll be our secret mission.”

“Secret! I won’t tell,” she whispers with utmost seriousness, and her eyes beam with the thrill of this imaginary game he’s now given her.

“Good,” he murmurs, tapping her nose lightly, “I knew I could trust ya, kiddo,” and as he shoots her a wink, she dissolves into a fit of giggles.

You watch them from a few steps away, leaning back against the banister with your arms crossed—a soft smile tugging at your lips. There’s something endearing, almost mesmerizing, about the way Satoru allows himself to be swept up in Haru’s world, and you’re incredibly impressed at how seamlessly he’s growing into this role—this new chapter of his life, and yours. As you catch glimpses of the man he’s becoming, these small, unguarded moments bring forth a version of Satoru that feels both familiar and entirely new.

Just then, Satoru glances up and catches you watching him with that uncharacteristically soft expression. His gaze narrows playfully, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his lips as he stands.

“What, Mrs. Gojo? Enjoying the view?”

Your smile softens, and the words that leave your lips slip out before you even realize it.

“Who knew dad vibes could look this good on you?”

Ah, fuck. The second the words leave your lips; you feel a heat rushing to your cheeks—you’ve spoken without thinking, letting your admiration for him slip out in a way that feels a little too honest—more vulnerable than you intended—giving him a title—that title. You’re still getting used to this… this new, real relationship that you and Satoru share, and moments like this catch you off guard.

Satoru’s reaction is immediate; his eyes widen in surprise, and for a heartbeat, he simply blinks at you, processing what you’ve said. Flustered, you bite your lip—your gaze darting away for a moment as the heat in your face intensifies. There is no hiding the delicate pink painting your cheeks.

But then, his surprise melts into a grin—a slow, pleased smile that lights up his entire face, stretching into a smirk that’s all too self-satisfied.

“Oh?” his voice drips with amusement. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of my ‘dad vibes.’”

Stepping forward, he tilts his head—studying you with a newfound intensity, and it becomes very clear that he’s relishing in your flustered reaction.

Ugh. You don’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed in his response. Clearing your throat, you try to salvage a bit of dignity.

“I, uh�� I just mean, y’know… you’re getting the hang of this,” you mumble.

You should know better—that playful glint in Satoru’s eyes tells you he’s not letting you off the hook. His eyes beam with mischief as he leans in close, and you desperately try to advert your gaze.

“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t backtrack now,” he smirks, turning your face to meet him.

The warmth in your cheeks intensifies under his gaze, and his fingers linger, brushing tenderly against your chin. Your breath catches the moment he moves in closer—lips ghosting just over yours.

“I think I could get used to is this kind of flattery…”

You suck in a breath and playfully roll your eyes. “The last thing you need is an ego boost. Don’t get too used to it…”

“Too late,” he whispers back.

Before you can say anything else, a small, impatient voice breaks the moment.

“Mama, ‘toru! Let’s gooo! Pumpkins!” she pouts.

You both blink, snapping out of the moment as you glance down at Haru, who’s now tugging on your hands with eager impatience.

She’s not about to let her pumpkin adventure be delayed by your moment.

“Alright, alright, princess, we’re going,” Satoru chuckles, ruffling her hair playfully. “Besides, I’m not the only one going incognito today.”

Turning towards a nearby table, he reaches for a small shopping bag you hadn’t noticed before, and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity as he holds the bag out to you with a smirk. The moment the bag is settled in your hands, you immediately open it—revealing your own matching beanie, followed by a pair of sleek designer sunglasses.

“Gotta keep my partner in crime undercover too.”

“Ah, of course,” you muse, grinning at you pull your disguise out of the shopping bag. “Didn’t realize we were going full ‘spy mode’ for this outing.”

Satoru chuckles, but his eyes soften as he watches you slip the beanie over your head and position the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose with a flourish.

“How do I look?” you pose playfully.

“Like the perfect accomplice,” he declares with a grin. “No one will suspect a thing.”

Haru’s face lights up and she claps her hands in excitement.

“Mama’s a spy too!” she squeals.

The thrill in her voice pulls a laugh from both you and Satoru—she’s completely swept up in this game. Satoru mirrors after you—slipping on his own sunglasses with an exaggerated flourish as he flashes Haru a mischievous grin. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket and whispers conspiratorially—as though letting her in on a top-secret plan.

“That’s right, kiddo. It’s a full family mission.”

Haru’s eyes beam with childlike wonder as she nods—putting her finger to her lips again again—mimicking his serious expression. Suddenly, Satoru pulls out a set of keys from his hoodie pocket and begins dangling them in front of you with a grin. The silver glints in the sunlight as he places them in your hand.

“C’mon, you’re driving today,” he says with an easy nonchalance.

It takes a moment for you to register that it’s your keys he had set in your hand, and you blink down at them for a moment while he steps towards the door. It’s been so long since you’ve driven your own car that it feels oddly unfamiliar—like a relic from another life.

“Oh, uh… yeah, sure,” you stammer, still caught off guard as you follow him out the door, with Haru skipping beside you—a cascade of excitement as she babbles about today’s adventure.

Once you step outside, your gaze lands on your car waiting in the driveway—a dark blue sedan with a soft, understated shine—a small piece of normalcy you’d left behind in the wake of Gojo's luxury.  It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s always been reliable.

Driving out of the Gojo estate… in your car? It’s a strange, almost surreal concept after all the chauffeured cars and limos that have now oddly become routine. A rush of familiarity surges through you—remembering the simpler times, a glimpse of the life that once belonged solely to you.

While you’re lost down memory lane, Satoru strolls toward the passenger side. He pauses, glancing back to find you standing there—keys in hand, a touch of nostalgia softening you features. His signature smirk settles into place as he leans casually against the passenger door and muses.

“What’s the matter? Afraid you’ve forgotten how to drive? Or…” his eyes narrow with playful mischief as he raises an eyebrow, “are you too fancy to drive your own car now, Mrs. Gojo?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes before striding over to the rear passenger door, where Haru waits—her small fingers clutching the edge eagerly.

“Says the one who never drives,” you shoot back, grinning as you pull open the door. “Mr. ‘Passenger Princess.’”

Your comment earns you a dramatic huff as he places a hand over his chest—pretending to be affronted—though the grin curling upon his lip tells you he’s anything but offended.

“Excuuuse me, but this ‘passenger princess’ comes with premium commentary and a charming smile. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have this level of company in the front seat.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes again as you reach down to lift Haru into the car.

“Lucky me,” you mutter with a grin.

But just as you begin to settle Haru into her car seat, her demeanor shifts—before you know it, she’s twisting in your arms, pressing her hands against your shoulders, all while her little brows draw together in a determined pout.

“No, Mama!” she wriggles free—scurrying down to plant her feet on the ground. You blink the moment she crosses her arms and defiantly declares, “I want ‘toru to do it!”

The request takes you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. Uhhh… come to think of it, does Satoru even know how to strap a toddler into a car seat? You glance over at him, and he looks equally thrown off—an uncertain smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You can practically see his internal debate unfolding—he subtly glances between you and Haru—clearly flattered but just as visibly out of his depth.

Oh, Haru. She absolutely adores him—and while Satoru isn’t exactly resisting the role she’s suddenly assigned him, you know first-hand that he’s pretty much clueless with toddler basics. Car seats and sippy cups? Yeah… not exactly his area of expertise.

With a sigh, you kneel beside Haru—a gentle smile on your lips.

“Haru, honey… Satoru doesn’t exactly—"

Satoru clears his throat.

“—uh… sure, I can do it,” he straightens, pushing himself off the side of the car with a nonchalant shrug as he gives you a small, uncertain grin. “How hard can it be?”

A giggle breaks from Haru’s lips as he swoops her up, and her little arms wrap around his neck with delight—but Satoru’s eyes narrow at the car seat like it’s some sort of complex machinery he’s about to dismantle. Oh… this is gonna be good.

He carefully lowers her into the seat, and his brows furrow with intense focus as his fingers begin to slip over the unfamiliar buckles.

“Alright… this goes here… or does it?” he mutters.

Biting back a smile, you marvel at how determined yet adorably out of his element he is—untangling the straps. But as you watch him struggle, you are suddenly struck with the realization of how different this moment feels from anything you have ever experienced in the past.

Naoya? He would never have humored Haru’s whims, let alone spent time trying to puzzle out something as simple (yet surprisingly complicated) as a car seat. No—it was easier for him to hand off the messy tasks of parenting.

But Satoru? Here he was, eyebrows knitted in stubborn determination—refusing to give up on this minor challenge, simply because Haru had asked him to. Each small stumble, each adjustment he makes, only seems to fuel his resolve to get it right.

After a few moments, a sigh of mild frustration escapes him, and he pauses, staring at the tangled straps in front of him in defeat. Finally, glancing over his shoulder, he casts you a sheepish look that’s so uncharacteristically vulnerable it melts you.

“Uhh… I’m doing this right…right?”

Oh, he’s too cute. He’s trying so hard, and something about it makes you want to lean in and kiss him, just for being so completely, irresistibly endearing.

Stepping forward, you smile softly, inspecting his work with a practiced eye.

“You’re doing great,” you assure him warmly, reaching out to gently adjust the chest clip. “But you’ll want to raise this a little higher—it should be level with her armpits, and maybe tighten it a bit more.”

His eyes focus closely on your hands as you gently guide him through the adjustments, and he nods—carefully stepping back in to finish the task with a newfound confidence.

“Okay, got it.”

Your slight encouragement seems to have spurred his fingers to move more purposefully now. Tightening the strap, he gives it a final tug to check the tension, and with a small huff of triumph, a wide grin spreads across his face as he leans back—admiring his handiwork.

“There,” he announces, sounding both relieved and just a little proud. “One secure kiddo.”

Haru beams up at him, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“Good job, ‘toru!” her voice is filled with an adorable pride, as though she’s the one teaching him.

“Anything for you, princess,” he chuckles, gently closing her door and casting her one last fond look through the window. Then, with an easy stride, he slips into the passenger seat beside you, settling in with an air of satisfaction.

“All right, you two,” you exhale, securing your seatbelt with a satisfying click. “Let’s hit the road, shall we?”

After securing his own seatbelt, Satoru’s eyes flicker to yours with playful adoration. He leans back with a contented sigh.

“Yup. And with you behind the wheel, I get the best view in the car,” winking playfully, his trademark smirk appears as he adds, “Ready when you are, Madam Chauffeur.”

ꨄ︎

The pumpkin patch sprawls before you like a painted autumn wonderland. Rows upon rows of pumpkins in every imaginable shape and size dot the field—their bright orange hues glowing under the soft, golden light of the afternoon sun. Rustic wooden signs swing gently in the breeze, directing families to activities like hay rides, corn mazes, and a “Pumpkin Painting Station.” You’re welcomed with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, mingling with the sweetness of spiced donuts and apple cider—a warm nostalgic embrace of autumn.

Nearby, children dart between the pumpkins, shrieking with laughter as they kick up leaves. Parents snap photos, their laughter joining the symphony of crunching footsteps and cheerful voices. You glance at Satoru, who’s paused just past the entrance—his gaze sweeping across the scene with a mixture of awe and slight bewilderment. There’s a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, like he’s trying to take in every detail of this unfamiliar world.

“Well?” you ask, nudging him gently with a smile. “What do you think?”

He shrugs, flashing a lopsided grin as he meets your gaze.

“Honestly? I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something a little more… contained?” his eyes flick to a group of kids who’ve just toppled over in a pile of leaves—sending a cloud of autumn colors flying around them.

“Contained?” you echo, a smirk crossing your face. “Satoru, it’s a pumpkin patch, not a black-tie event. Consider it an adventure in rural living.”

He lets out a low chuckle, and his usual confidence is softened by a rare, boyish charm.

“Mmm... well I guess I’m overdue for an adventure like this,” his gaze drifts over the rows of pumpkins—families bundled in scarves and jackets as the haze of afternoon sunlight filters through the trees. His tone dips into something warm, almost tender. “Hard to believe, but I’ve never actually been to one of these before.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

He shakes his head, looking almost sheepish.

“Nah... let’s just say pumpkin patches aren’t exactly a Gojo family tradition…” he chuckles softly, but there’s a bit of sadness coloring his voice as he scratches the back of his head. “I guess most of my autumns were spent in places a bit… less pumpkin-filled.”

His unguarded honesty tugs at something deep within you. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, just how much of a different world he comes from—how even the smallest traditions, like visiting a pumpkin patch, might’ve been out of reach for him.

Without a second thought, you reach over, sliding your hand into his, your fingers curling around his in a gentle squeeze. He looks down, surprise flashing in his eyes, before his expression softens as he meets your gaze.

“There’s a first time for everything,” you murmur softly. “And… now you’ve got Haru and me to show you how it’s done. We’re practically pumpkin patch experts.”

A soft smile breaks across his face, and for a moment, he looks like he’s letting down a guard you hadn’t even realized was there.

“I couldn’t ask for better teachers,” he squeezes your hand back.

Just then, a delighted gasp breaks the stillness as Haru tugs excitedly on Satoru’s hand—her eyes are wide and shining with wonder as she points to a patch of particularly large pumpkins.

“Look, ‘toru! Big ones!” she practically bounces with energy. “Let’s go! Pleeease?”

Satoru’s expression softens even further as he glances from you to Haru, and with a small laugh, he nods—allowing himself to be pulled forward by her tiny but insistent hand.

“Alright, alright, lead the way, pumpkin expert,” he says, casting a quick, affectionate glance back at you—and your heart swells from the way his eyes twinkle with amusement, and maybe, just a hint of gratitude.

ꨄ︎

“This one?” Satoru asks, holding up a pumpkin with a proud grin.

“No!” Haru exclaims immediately, her face scrunched up in disapproval. “Too skinny.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, giving the pumpkin an exaggerated, doubtful look.

“Too skinny, huh?” setting it down with a sigh, he brushes off his hands—back to square one. “Alright, let’s keep looking.”

He takes a few steps, scanning the rows, and his gaze falls on another pumpkin—rounder this time, but with a bit of a tilt to one side. He bends down to pick it up, then holds it out with a contemplative look.

“Hmm… how about this one? Good color, nice and round—”

“Nope!” Haru cuts him off, shaking her head with a serious frown. “It’s bumpy.”

Satoru sighs—a huff of a chuckle. He places the pumpkin back down with mock solemnity.

“Alright, alright. No bumps, no skinniness. Got it.”

Glancing back, he casts you a quick look—an amused twinkle in his eye as he mouths, she’s tough. Stifling a laugh, you sit back on a nearby hay bale, watching their search unfold with growing amusement. Haru’s standards have always been impressively high, and Satoru, is finally getting a taste of that.

As they wander a little farther down the row, Satoru’s gaze lands on another contender—a medium-sized pumpkin with a perfectly round shape and a smooth surface. Crouching down beside it, he inspects it with all the seriousness of a seasoned pumpkin picker, then holds it out, giving Haru a hopeful look.

“This one? Look, it’s perfectly round and no bumps in sight.”

Haru narrows her eyes, stepping forward and scrutinizing the pumpkin with an intensity that belies her age. A tiny, dramatic sigh escapes her as she shakes her head in disapproval.

“No, it’s not orange enough. Has to be super orange!”

“Super orange,” he echoes with a dramatic nod. “Of course. What was I thinking?” He places it back with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he searches the rows—clearly determined not to give up.

Biting back a smile, you watch him crouch beside her yet again, leaning in close to match her intense expression. Then, he picks up another pumpkin and holds it out in front of her, trying to contain his hope.

“This one?” he asks, almost pleading.

Haru barely spares a second glance.

“Nope! The stem is too small.”

With a defeated sigh, Satoru watches as she continues her search, undeterred and unbothered by his less-than-stellar picks. After a moment, he walks back over to you and plops down on the hay bale—his shoulders slumping in mock exhaustion.

“Is there such a thing as a perfect pumpkin, or am I just doomed to fail here?”

You can’t help but grin—reaching over for his hand. As your fingers intertwine with his, you rest your head gently against his shoulder.

“Oh… I think there’s one out there somewhere,” you murmur, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t give up now, Mr. Gojo. Just think of this as your first lesson in pumpkin-picking perseverance.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest—low and warm.

“Perseverance, huh?” looking down at your joined hands, his thumb brushes tenderly over your fingers, before his gaze lifts to meet yours—there’s a softness in his eyes, a kind of warmth that feels as comfortable as the autumn sun. “Alright… if you believe in me, I guess I’ll keep trying. But if she shoots down one more pumpkin, I might need a pep talk.”

You laugh, giving his shoulder a playful nudge.

“I’ll be here, ready with all the encouragement you need. This is serious business, y’know.”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there’s a spark of determination there as he watches Haru continue her search with relentless focus.

“Serious business, huh?” he mutters, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well… far be it from me to let a toddler outdo me.”

Before you can respond, a delighted gasp cuts through the air.

“Mama! ‘toru! I found it!” eyes wide and sparkling, Haru points proudly at a pumpkin nestled snugly in the dirt.

The triumph in her voice makes Satoru’s eyes light up. Standing from the hay bale, his hands nestle into the pockets of his hoodie as he strides towards Haru, with you following closely behind.

“Really now? Let’s take a look at this prize pumpkin.”

Crouching down beside it, Satoru lifts the pumpkin carefully with both hands—as though it’s the crown jewel of the pumpkin patch. His brow furrows with an exaggerated seriousness as he turns it slowly, examining every curve and contour.

“Hmm… yes, I think you’re right,” he declares, voice thoughtful. “This is one smooth, super orange, pumpkin…and just look at that stem!” he taps the pumpkin’s top lightly and flashes Haru a crooked grin. “You’ve got a great eye, kiddo. I’d say you found the best one here.”

Haru’s face lights up with pride.

“Yay!! Look, Mama look!” she beams, her smile stretching from ear to ear—glowing with joy.

Crouching down beside her, you run your hand gently over the pumpkin’s surface. “Wow, sweetie—I love it. It’s absolutely perfect.”

You catch Satoru’s gaze holding yours for a moment—a soft smile stretching across his lips—and then, he reaches down to lift the pumpkin effortlessly—cradling it like a treasure.

“So… do we take it home now? Looks like we’ve got our perfect pumpkin, after all.”

You rise—shaking your head with a grin as you hold up a hand to pause him.

“Not so fast apprentice. You didn’t think we’d leave without experiencing the whole pumpkin patch, did you? C’mon, we’ll bring it up front, but check out later.”

Satoru chuckles, shifting the pumpkin under one arm as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Guess I shouldn’t rush the experts,” his eyes shift to Haru and his smile softens. “So… what’s next on our agenda, sweetheart?”

ꨄ︎

As the three of you stroll hand in hand through the bustling market stalls, the air is rich with the warm aroma of spiced cider, caramel, and freshly baked treats. Each booth is piled high with autumn delights—jars of golden honey, hand-painted gourds nestled among small pumpkins, and cozy knit scarves draped invitingly over wooden displays.

But Satoru’s attention is instantly captivated by the booth ahead—his eyes brimming in boyish wonder as they land on a display of sweet treats.

“Is that cider? And caramel apples?” he exclaims. “Come on, we have to try these,” and he’s steering you both eagerly towards the booth—like a moth to a flame.

You blink—a little surprised by how openly delighted he is over something so simple. But soon, a warm smile breaks across your face, and you can’t help but chuckle softly while he tugs you along.

“You’re like a kid in a candy store right now.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he flashes you a grin so bright, it feels like a burst of sunlight breaking through the autumn clouds. His enthusiasm is contagious, and before you know it, you’re swept up in his excitement.

He eagerly orders three caramel apples and a steaming cup of cider to share. Then, turning back, he holds the treats up with a triumphant, radiant smile—gleaming with delight. Handing the first one to Haru, you watch as she sinks her small teeth into the sticky treat without hesitation.

“Mmm! Yummy!!” Caramel smears her cheeks, but she looks up at you both, absolutely beaming.

Satoru chuckles, reaching down to ruffle her hair fondly before turning back to you. With an exaggerated flourish, he extends a caramel apple in your direction—bowing slightly as he adopts a tone of mock chivalry.

“For you, my lady,” he says with a smirk.

Unable to hold back a grin, you roll your eyes at his theatrics—taking the apple from him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.”

As you bring the treat to your mouth, the rich sweetness clings to your lips in a sticky kiss. But you can’t resist glancing over at Satoru—and there he is, utterly lost in the simple pleasure of it. He bites into his own apple with unfiltered delight, like it’s the best thing he’s had all day.

A smile pulls at your lips as you watch him—licking a stray bit of caramel from his thumb. He’s entirely unbothered by the sticky mess, but then, as if feeling your gaze, he looks up—catching your eyes with a glint of amusement. A slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face, unashamed and utterly charming.

"I didn’t peg you as someone who’d go for something this messy," you tease, taking another bite of your apple as he shrugs.

“You say messy; I say worth it,” he counters.

Your eyes linger on a small smudge of caramel at the corner of his mouth, and without thinking, you reach out—brushing your thumb gently across his lips to clean it away. But just as you begin to pull your hand back, he captures your fingers—holding them in place while his gaze meets yours. His lips curl into a smirk that promises nothing but trouble, and a shiver tingles up your spine the moment he brings your thumb to his lips.

Slowly, deliberately, he closes his lips around your thumb—enveloping the sticky sweetness in his warm mouth while sucking it off with a teasing slowness—leaving you breathless.

“You’re impossible…” you mutter.

Releasing your digit with a soft, tantalizing pop—your breath hitches, and there’s a smug delight in the way he studies you, reveling in the effect he’s stirred within you.

“What can I say?” he hums, licking his lips with a casual ease. “Sweet things are my weakness.”

Your eyes are helplessly drawn to his lips—watching as his tongue glides over his bottom lip, catching the last traces of caramel. For a heartbeat, you can’t look away; his lips look even more tempting than the caramel itself, and something about his self-assured gaze has you feeling flustered and captivated all at once.

“Your weakness, huh?” you breathe, finally managing to lift your gaze back to his, trying to sound nonchalant. “Good to know… I’ll remember that next time you act like you’re above everyone else.”

A rich, low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he leans in, and the air around you crackles with anticipation as his gaze drops to your still sticky lips.

“You should,” he whispers, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours—a glint of mischief and something softer. “Especially since caramel apples aren’t my only weakness.”

Before you can even catch your breath, he leans in, bridging the small distance between you until his lips hover just a whisper away. His mouth brushes against yours, feather-light at first—a tentative, lingering touch that sends a shiver through you. Instinctively, you find yourself mirroring his movements, returning the kiss with gentle insistence.

As his hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb strokes a slow, comforting line along your cheek, grounding you, though his lips leave you feeling weightless. The kiss is a delicate dance, as intoxicating as it is tender, and you can taste the faint sweetness of caramel mingling with the warmth of him.

Pulling back, his warm breath mingles with your own as he rests his forehead gently against you. His eyes, soft and half-lidded, meet yours, and a small, satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

“You know…” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “you taste even better than the caramel.”

“Sweet talker…” you mumble, your cheeks warming under his gaze as his smirk widens.

“Mmm, but you’re the sweetest thing here,” he breathes, voice dropping as he draws close again. “But… I think I need another taste. Just to be sure.”

This time, his lips press with a deeper, more assured insistence, moving against yours in a rhythm of warmth and quiet intensity. A low hum of approval escapes him, vibrating softly against your lips, and his hand slides to the back of your neck—fingers weaving through your hair as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

But just as you begin to lose yourself in the moment, a small, determined voice slices through the quiet intimacy like a record scratch.

“Hey!” Haru scolds, stern and resolute. “Bad ‘toru! Don’t squish Mama!”

Startled, you both break apart, blinking at each other as you catch your breath. You turn to see Haru standing nearby, her little arms crossed over her chest as she fixes Satoru with an adorably fierce look. Her brows are furrowed in a way that would be intimidating—if she weren’t so tiny.

Oh, Haru.

You exchange a quick, sheepish glance with Satoru, and he lets out a quiet chuckle, reaching down to ruffle her hair in an attempt to defuse her stern gaze.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he says, grinning. “Mama’s tougher than she looks.”

Wriggling out of his reach, she stomps her foot with a determined huff.

“That’s my Mama! You be nice, ‘kay?”

Satoru blinks—the corners of his mouth twitching up as he struggles to keep a straight face. Biting back a grin, he raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Right. You got it boss,” he nods solemnly. “I’ll be extra nice.”

There’s a brief pause as Haru narrows her eyes at Satoru.

“Promise ‘toru?”

“Promise.” He taps his chest for emphasis, as if making a sacred vow.

After a long, scrutinizing pause—deciding whether to take his promise seriously—Haru nods, a satisfied “hmmph” escaping her as she plops down beside you with her candy apple in hand.

“No more squishing,” she mumbles around a bite—keeping a wary eye on him.

That’s it—you can’t hold it in any longer. Laughter bubbles out of you, and Satoru glances up, catching your eye with a grin that’s equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Well…” he sighs, as if he’s been given the most impossible mission, “guess I’ve been told.”

ꨄ︎

As the three of you meander through the pumpkin patch, Haru skips along—tugging on your hands and pointing out each new discovery in delight—a scarecrow with a tilted hat, a butterfly fluttering briefly on a tall stalk of corn, a perfectly round pumpkin nestled under twisting vines.

Then, bouncing on her toes, she points toward a massive, lumbering tractor—its green paint chipped and worn, but still carrying an undeniable charm.

“Look, ‘toru! I wanna ride it!” she exclaims.

As Satoru’s eyes narrow on the rumbling machine, you can see the gears turning in his head. Him—a man of luxury and refinement, clambering onto a dusty old tractor?

But after one look at Haru’s eager face, his resolve crumbles.

And of course, moments later, he’s perched on a bale of hay—Haru bouncing with delight on his lap as the tractor lurches to life. The wheels crunch over the fallen leaves, and Haru chatters happily, pointing out every bump and turn in the ride—blissfully unaware of the incongruity of a billionaire on a hay bale.

After the bumpy ride, the petting zoo became Haru’s next paradise. Dashing from pen to pen, her tiny hands pressed against each fence—pointing at each animal with wide-eyed wonder—calling out, “Look, Mama! Look, ‘toru!”

Each discovery sends her gazing up at Satoru with curious eyes, expecting him to know everything about each creature, and he humors her with a quiet patience—kneeling down beside her to answer her endless questions with a tender fondness that tugs at your heart.

But as you’re savoring this rare, serene moment, you feel a subtle shift in the air. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a woman a few feet away, dressed in a cozy autumn sweater and a scarf, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that spills over one shoulder. She’s dressed casual in appearance—completely harmless—but what unsettles you is the intensity in her gaze—a gaze that lingers on Satoru a bit too long.

At first, you try to brush it off. Maybe she’s just admiring him—after all, he’s breathtakingly attractive, and his presence has a way of turning heads even on his most inconspicuous days. But then, her expression shifts, morphing from idle admiration to something sharper.

Recognition.

Your heart sinks as you see her eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly in surprise. Holding your breath, you hope she’ll just let it go—that it’ll be a fleeting thought.

No such luck.

With a quick, subtle gesture, she nudges her friend beside her, her excitement barely contained. The friend follows her gaze, squinting slightly before her eyes, too, widen in realization. Their quiet murmurs are punctuated by eager glances your way, confirming your worst fear: they know who he is.

The comforting illusion of anonymity you’d clung to here—the precious notion that, for once, you could just be a regular family enjoying a simple day out—begins to fray at the edges, unraveling under the weight of their recognition. No matter how far you venture from the city, from his world of fame and fortune, it seems his reputation is impossible to outrun—constantly creeping back to claim him… to claim you.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly approach Satoru, who’s still kneeling by Haru as she excitedly babbles about the sheep. You crouch down beside him and gently place your hand on his shoulder—catching his attention. Turning to you, his expression softens at the sight of you—until he notices the concern in your eyes.

“They recognize you,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly toward the two women.

Following your glance, a shadow of something unreadable passes over his face as he takes in their intrigued, lingering stares, and for a moment, you feel the hopelessness creeping in—the reality that moments like these are fleeting—vulnerable to the slightest shift in attention.

But then, something shifts in Satoru’s expression—his gaze sharpening with determination as he catches sight of the disappointment settling in your eyes. Glancing around, he begins assessing the layout of the pumpkin patch—searching for an escape route.

Then, his gaze lands on it—a tall, winding corn maze, its entrance just a few yards away, partially hidden behind a cluster of hay bales.

Perfect.

Without a beat of hesitation, he leans in close to Haru—who’s blissfully caught up in a bunny nibbling on some hay.

“Agent Haru,” he intones with mock seriousness, “do you remember our mission?”

Haru’s head snaps up, her face lighting up instantly as she turns to him.

“Yeah!” she squeals, grinning with a spark of adventure.

“Good,” he nods, casting a quick, discreet glance toward the approaching women. “We need to escape without being spotted by those two ladies over there,” he gestures subtly, grinning. “Think you can handle it?”

Haru’s face scrunches up in concentration, and her tiny hands clench into fists as she straightens up. Her expression breaks into one of fierce determination—one that’s both adorable and earnest.

“Yes, ‘toru!” she whispers back, nodding.

With a reassuring smile, Satoru’s on his feet—taking your hand in one of his and Haru’s in the other.

“Hold on tight,” he quips, a smirk playing on his lips as the three of you dash toward the maze.

The moment you break into a run, Haru’s delighted giggles mix with the crunch of leaves underfoot, and soon you plunge into the tall, twisting rows of corn.

You steal a glance back towards the petting zoo, half-expecting to see the curious women following, but the corn closes in behind you like a cocoon, swallowing them from sight.

Satoru’s hand is warm around yours, grounding yet electrifying, and his laughter mingles with Haru’s squeals. With a sideways glance, his eyes meet yours and his grin is wide and exhilarating. Giving you a quick wink, he turns forward again, tugging you along as you dive deeper—daring you to keep up.

“Agent Haru, status report! Any enemies in sight?" he calls out in a mock-commanding tone.

Haru, bubbling with laughter, scans the rows of corn with exaggerated intensity—clutching his hand with fierce determination as her little legs pump as fast as they can.

"All clear ‘toru!" she yells back, brimming with excitement.

In that instant, the lingering worry, the quiet ache of reality, all of it dissolves into the thrill of escape—the magic of this moment. There’s no fame, no recognition, no judgement here; only the unrestrained joy of play, of racing through a maze as though the world is nothing but this stretch of golden corn and laughter.

You weave together through twists and turns—a blur of giggles and hurried footsteps until finally, you reach a small, secluded clearing tucked deep within the towering stalks.

Gasping for breath, you lean back against one of the tall stalks, and after a moment, you let yourself slide down to the ground—pulling your knees to your chest as you catch your breath, the crisp autumn air cooling your flushed cheeks.

Beside you, Satoru braces his hands on his knees, exhaling deeply before he follows your lead and sinks down onto the ground next to you. Though ahead, Haru seems immune to exhaustion. She’s already a few steps away, her eyes wide with wonder as she spots a butterfly lazily drifting through a patch of sunlight. Completely captivated, she crouches down, watching its gentle path—momentarily lost in her own little world.

Satoru’s eyes meet yours with a shared, silent thrill. Nudging your shoulder with his, a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Didn’t know a pumpkin patch would turn into a covert operation,” he exhales.

You laugh, breathlessly.

“Not exactly what I had in mind for a relaxing day out,” you give his knee an affectionate shove with yours. “But… I guess life with you is never boring.”

He chuckles, throwing his head back and gazing up at the autumn sky—a few streaks of orange and pink peeking through the corn tops.

“Well…” his eyes flicker to yours, sparkling with that familiar, teasing gleam. “You did sign up for the full Gojo experience. Adventures, paparazzi, occasional cornfield chases… it’s all part of the package sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“Uh-huh, sure, sure. I just thought it would involve more champagne and less running,” you quip, nudging him playfully.

“Oh, you want champagne?” he grins, raising an eyebrow in mock challenge. “You sure you can handle it? Remember that first charity gala? You were practically clinging to me by the end of the night.”

Your cheeks flush at the memory, and you laugh, slightly flustered.

“Okay, but did you expect me to be completely unfazed? My first gala, fancy dresses, and…"

The words die on your lips—the memory of that night creeping in; the low lights, the glint of champagne glasses, and then… that kiss. Your first kiss—with Satoru.

A kiss that was completely under the guise of putting on a show for Naoya… though let’s be real, it was anything but pretend.

Satoru’s eyes light up with interest as he catches your hesitation, his smirk widening like a cat about to pounce.

“Go on. Fancy dresses and… what, exactly?” he prompts, a playful drawl.

As he tilts his head with that infuriatingly charming glint in his eye, you know, that he knows, exactly what you were thinking. Ugh. He can be infuriating.  

Your cheeks burn as you try to wave it off.

“Nothing! Just… the whole night was… overwhelming,” you mumble, trailing off as you divert your gaze.

A low, amused hum escapes him—rumbling through his chest as his knowing look revels in your embarrassment.

“Overwhelming, huh?” he echoes, grin widening. “Interesting choice of words… considering you were the one who practically jumped me in front of your ex.”

With an exasperated groan, you roll your eyes in protest.

“Well, what can I say?” you sigh, feigning indifference as you rest your head on your knees. “Drastic times called for drastic measures.”

“Mmm-hmm, sure, keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles—dropping his head to rest against his own knees. You hold your breath as his blue eyes catch yours with a quiet, teasing intensity. “But… I’m pretty sure you just couldn’t resist me…” his crooked grin grows, “after all, that kiss was all you.”

You scoff, your cheeks heating as you stretch your legs—trying to hide your amusement. “I think you’re misremembering things. If anything, you were the one clinging to me.”

His laughter spills out, rich and unrestrained. With a content sigh, he follows your movements, stretching out beside you.

“Sure, sure. Believe what you want, sweetheart.”

The comfortable silence settles over you, and you find yourself glancing back to where Haru is still entranced by a butterfly drifting through the sunlight, her face lit with pure wonder.

She’s so… happy. And that fills you with a deep, quiet gratitude. Moments like these are what you’ve always wanted for her. It’s what she deserves, and it warms your heart to know you’re able to give her a day like this.

A sigh escapes your lips, and your voice softens into a gentle murmur as you nod in her direction.

“For a minute there… I really thought we’d have to cut the day short.”

Satoru’s gaze flickers over to Haru, a fond smile softening his expression before he turns back to you. Without a word, he reaches for your hand—fingers intertwining with yours, steady and grounding.

“Nah,” he murmurs, quietly but firmly. “Not a chance. Nothing’s cutting this short. Todays about you and Haru.”

A warmth blooms in your chest, melting away any lingering traces of tension as his words sink in, wrapping around your heart like a gentle embrace. You smile, squeezing his hand in return.

“Just us, huh?” you whisper.

“Just us,” he echoes, brushing your knuckles with his thumb.

Then, with a soft sigh and a playful glint in his eye, he unclasps your hand to raises both hands to his mouth, calling out to Haru.

“Hey, Agent Haru!” he shouts, “Ready to finish our mission?”

Haru’s head snaps up, her eyes bright with excitement. She breaks into a grin and dashes over, grabbing each of your hands with her small, eager fingers.

“Yay!! C’mon mama, ‘toru! Let’s go!!”

ꨄ︎

As the golden light of early evening filters through the trees, the day is winding down, and the three of you start making your way back toward the entrance—weaving through the brightly colored stalls—each one bathed in the honeyed light of sunset.

But then, just as you reach the last stretch of the path, a delighted squeal breaks Haru’s focus the moment her gaze lands on a large, freshly raked pile of leaves just off to the side—a mound of vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows stacked high like a miniature mountain waiting to be conquered. Without a second thought, she breaks free from Satoru’s hand—dashing toward the pile with uncontainable excitement.

Zeroing in on the pile, she abruptly halts—her tiny form silhouetted against the colorful heap. You watch curiously as she glances back over her shoulder—her eyes alight with mischief and her cheeks flushed pink from the chill in the air.

Beaming with the thrill of discovery, she flings herself into the pile—a burst of leaves scattering around her in a vibrant whirlwind as she bursts into a fit of giggles.

“‘toru, look, look!” she calls out, peeking up from within the pile. “Come play, ‘toru! Come play!”

Satoru stops, watching her with a raised brow and an amused grin. He chuckles softly, though you can hear the reluctance coloring his tone. Diving headfirst into a pile of leaves? Clearly, that’s a foreign concept for Satoru Gojo—it’s more of that childlike wonder he missed out on.

Noticing his hesitance, you step up beside him—giving him a teasing nudge with your shoulder.

“C’mon ‘toru, afraid of a few leaves? Don’t tell me the ‘perfect’ Mr. Gojo is worried about getting a little dirt on him?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes—though a smile is already tugging at his lips.

“Afraid? Me?” his hands burrow into his hoodie pocket as he casts you a sideways glance. “Hardly. I’m just… y’know… assessing the situation.”

Biting back a grin, you begin to take a few slow, deliberate steps backwards—inching toward the pile where Haru is waiting as your eyes hold his with a silent dare.

“Assessing, huh?” you raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Mmm… I dunno, sounds like stalling to me. Come on, live a little, Mr. Gojo.”

He smirks, but before he can respond, you twirl around and dive into the pile beside Haru—scattering a burst of leaves around you. Your laughter blends with Haru’s giggle as you sink into the softness, and immediately, she reaches for a handful of leaves—tossing them up in the air so they flutter down like confetti.

Satoru tilts his head, grinning but not budging as the kaleidoscope of autumn colors rain down upon you both. But Haru? She’s not about to let him sit this one out.

Peeking over her shoulder, her eyes immediately set back on Satoru, and her expression morphs into one of adorable determination.

“’toooooru,” she whines, wide eyes practically glowing with hope. “Pleeease. Come play!”

Oh, Haru. He’s powerless against her persistence—and perhaps, against the joy that radiates from the two of you in that pile of leaves. With a theatrical sigh and a reluctant grin, he finally pulls his hands from his pockets.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and makes his way towards the leaf pile.

Standing at the edge of the pile, he kneels down to brush his hand over the crisp leaves—and then, with a sudden burst of resolve and dramatic flair, he lets himself fall back into the pile—flopping down as the leaves scatter around him. Haru wastes no time throwing herself on top of him.

An exaggerated grunt slips through Satoru’s lips, and Haru bursts into laughter as her small hands begin to bury him under a layer of vibrant foliage.

“Oh no!” he lets out a mock gasp as she buries him deeper. “I’m being buried alive! Save me!”

Haru’s laughter bubbles up, uncontrollable and infectious, as she adds even more leaves. “Stay still!” she scolds through her giggles, patting the leaves around his arms. “Don’t move, ‘toru!

“So, I’m supposed to just lie here and accept my fate, huh?” he huffs in defeat and glances up at her with wide eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t some secret plan to take me out?”

“Shhh!” she grins, putting a finger to his lips. “Magic leaves.”

“Oh, magic leaves? Well, why didn’t you say so?” his eyes glint with amusement as he lies still, trying to keep a straight face, though the laughter in his voice betrays him.

Haru continues to stack leaves atop him with a determined precision, until for a moment, she pauses—her eyes narrowing with that familiar glimmer of mischief yet again, as if she’s calculating her next move. Then suddenly, with a burst of energy, she tackles him with all her might—giggling as she sends the carefully arranged pile of leaves flying in every direction.

“Oh, it’s on!” Satoru laughs, his own grin widening as he grabs a handful of leaves to fling back at her. “You think you can get me like that, huh?”

In an instant, they’re caught in a whirlwind of laughter and autumn leaves. Seated nearby, you observe their playful battle unfold—Haru shrieking with joy as she ducks and scrambles to gather more ammunition. The warmth in your chest blossoms, and you feel almost entranced by the sight before you.

As Satoru’s deep, unrestrained laughter blends with Haru’s giggles, you realize in this moment just how rare it is to see him like this—completely carefree and unguarded. Gone is the man who must always play his part. Gone is the man who so often conceals his true self beneath layers of poise and duty. Here, with Haru, he is simply Satoru—someone who can laugh until he’s breathless and lose himself in a child’s game without a care.

You wonder how many other moments like this he’s missed—the boyish enthusiasm makes it seem almost as if he, too, is experiencing this kind of carefree fun for the first time. And that alone makes this moment feel so precious—something you wish you could capture and keep forever—suspended in time.

He deserves to feel this light, this unburdened.

“Okay, okay! I surrender!” he finally laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat before collapsing back into the pile—his chest rising and falling with exhilarated breaths as Haru cheers in victory.

“Gotcha, ‘toru!” she declares proudly—triumphantly piling more leaves on him. “You’re a leaf monster!”

Satoru chuckles, brushing a stray leaf off his nose as he props himself up slightly. “A leaf monster?” his eyes gleam playfully. “Well… you better be careful then—I might come back with vengeance.”

She squeals with laughter and her eyes sparkle with excitement as she scrambles to her feet. “Ahhh! Go away ‘toru!” she shrieks—darting away to dive into another pile of leaves nearby.

Watching her go, Satoru’s expression softens—a peaceful sigh slipping past his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath. “She’s got endless energy, doesn’t she?” he murmurs, tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

Your heart flutters at the warmth in his eyes, and you lean back on your hands, letting your own smile mirror his as you watch Haru’s figure disappear into another pile of leaves. “She does,” you breathe softly. “But… I think you’re doing a pretty good job keeping up.”

A quiet hum of contentment escapes him, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. Almost instinctively, he shifts closer, letting his head nestle in your lap as he leans back into the leaves.

“Maybe…” he trails off into a lazy, satisfied sigh. “But I think I’ll take a break right here… if that’s okay.”

As the dappled sunlight filters through the golden autumn leaves above, it casts soft shadows across his face—illuminating the gentle warmth in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, and without a word, you reach out—threading your fingers through his hair, each strand slipping through your fingertips, softer than you expected. He hums, sinking into your touch, his eyes drifting shut as a slow, contented smile spreads across his lips.

Around you, the world seems to quiet, holding its breath. Haru’s distant giggles mingle with the soft rustling of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of peace.

“You know…” you murmur, “I think this is my favorite side of you.”

His eyes flutter open, a flicker of surprise giving way to something unguarded and vulnerable. Slowly, a tender smile forms on his lips as he reaches up, brushing his hand gently against yours.

“Yeah?” he drawls, “Didn’t know I had a ‘favorite side.’”

“You do…” your fingers trace gentle circles through his hair, savoring the feel of each delicate touch. “It’s the side where you don’t have to be anything but… here, with us.”

For a heartbeat, he’s utterly still, as if each word you’ve spoken has wrapped itself around his heart. His gaze deepens, and your breath catches—it’s like he’s seeing you in a way that reaches beyond words. Gently, his hand comes up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear—his fingertips grazing your cheek with a touch so tender it makes your heart ache.

“Guess I didn’t know I could just… be that,” he whispers.

You lift your hand, covering his and pressing it to your cheek. “Well, you can. With us, you always can.”

His gaze holds yours, something vulnerable yet content in his eyes, but then, as if unable to help himself, the warmth shifts into a familiar glint—a spark of playfulness creeping back into his expression. “Alright, alright…” he lets out an exaggerated sigh, “let’s not get too sentimental. I gotta keep up my ‘mysterious’ reputation, remember?”

A laugh spills from you, light and unrestrained, as you roll your eyes in amusement. “Oh, you’re plenty mysterious. Half the time, I still can’t tell if you’re serious or just messing with me.”

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, leaning back further into your lap as if he’s completely relaxed—the picture of contentment.

“You should know by now…” he murmurs, feigning seriousness as he closes his eyes, “…it’s usually both.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, barely hiding the smirk he’s trying to restrain, and you can’t help but shake your head, grinning at his theatrics.

“Well… for the record,” your voice naturally softens, “I think a little tenderness suits you.”

One eye flicks open at your words, his brow quirking as he regards you with amused curiosity. Closing his eye again, his smirk deepens as he nestles further into your lap.

“Oh, does it?” he murmurs lazily, but there’s no mistaking the glint of interest coloring his tone.

“Yup,” you reply, leaning back on your hands and glancing up at the sky with feigned indifference. “I dunno… it’s kinda cute, actually.”

The words slip out like a quiet confession, and you notice the shift in him immediately—a subtle but unmistakable change.

Unable to keep up his act any longer, a bright, satisfied grin breaks across his face as he sits up—lifting his head from your lap—and his fingers slip through yours, intertwining and pulling you near him.

“Cute?” his voice drops as he brings his face achingly close to yours. “Careful now… saying things like that? You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

You feel your heart pounding—the thrill of his closeness electrifying as his breath fans your skin, but you hold his gaze boldly with a smirk.

“Well, maybe I like a little trouble,” you whisper back.

A playful growl rumbles in his chest, his smirk deepening as he tightens his grip on your intertwined hands.

“Oh… now you’re really asking for it. You’re officially in trouble.”

In one swift motion, he wraps his arms around you—sending you both tumbling back into the soft bed of leaves. The world around you blurs into a whirl of amber and gold as laughter escapes your lips, filling the crisp autumn air. But as you settle, your laughter fades, leaving only a quiet, shared breath between you and a gentle smile lingering on both your faces.

Hovering above you, his gaze softens as the leaves cradle you beneath their rustling blanket. It’s as though he’s committing every detail to memory as his eyes trace each curve and contour of your face, and you take in a quiet breath as his hand finds its way up your cheek—brushing over your skin and making you melt under his touch.

“Gotcha,” he whispers, brushing his nose gently against yours.

A quiet gasp slips past your lips, your pulse quickening as his proximity becomes all-consuming. Still, you muster a playful eye-roll, though the warmth in your gaze betrays your affection.

“Is this your idea of ‘assessing the situation,’?”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs, eyes softening. “God, you’re beautiful…”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you breathless, and a warmth blooms in your cheeks that reaches all the way to your heart. Before you can respond, he closes the distance—his lips capturing yours in a kiss so soft, so achingly tender, it leaves you dizzy.

As he deepens the kiss, a soft sigh escapes you, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Each brush of his lips is slow, deliberate—and everything else fades into nothingness, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the press of his lips, and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats entwined.

But just as you’re about to melt entirely into him, a tiny voice breaks through the haze of warmth and closeness.

“Hey!” Haru’s voice calls out, stern and unwavering. “Bad ‘toru!”

Pulling back, Satoru groans softly, chuckling under his breath. His gaze flicks to Haru, who stands with her hands on her hips, looking every bit the tiny but fierce protector. He drops his head in defeat, shooting you a look of amused resignation.

“Well, looks like we’ve been caught,” he whispers, brushing a stray leaf from your hair with a soft, lingering touch.

You stifle a laugh, trying to keep your composure as you glance back at Haru.

“We should probably get back to her before she starts scolding you again,” you sigh, rising to your feet with his help.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can handle another ‘squishing’ intervention,” he mutters, intertwining his fingers with yours as you both walk back to Haru, who’s watching the two of you with narrowed, all-seeing eyes.

With the sun dipping lower in the sky, it paints the fields in shades of amber and gold. The three of you make your way back toward the entrance of the pumpkin patch—Haru skipping along, her small hands clasped in both of yours as she chatters excitedly about everything she saw—even as the day winds down.

But as you approach the entrance, ready to leave this little haven of laughter and leaves behind, a quiet warmth settles in your chest—a feeling that this moment, this fleeting, joyful day with the people you cherish most, is a memory you’ll carry with you. This is your little family, and it’s worth all the chases, all the whispers, all the adventures.

For now, that’s all that matters.

thanks for reading this special little fall chapter! satoru is such a cutie pie with haru 🥹 i really wanted to have this out before october ended, but alas, my perfectionism kept holding me back 😅 anyways, ch 7 is indeed in the works—that'll be my next post, and it will be out by the end of this month. i appreciate you all being so patient, hope you had a lovely halloween 🎃 -aly 💛

taglist:

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg

@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans

[nostxlgia18]

Bittersweet

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Steve Rogers × Wife! Reader

Summary: After a heated argument with your husband. Your friend Loki comes to your rescue.

Warning: Loki being adorable, Fluff, Slight Angst at the start.

As soon as you told Steve about your pregnancy, his face softened. He just kept staring at you in the mirror, clearly taken aback by the fresh information he had just received. Turning to face him, you murmur, "I was planning to tell you on your birthday, but..." Starting to feel dizzy you leave the bathroom without giving him a glance.  Right as you were about to   sit on the b someone knocked on the door, "Y/n!" "Steve?" recognising Bucky you open the door. "Hey, Y/n!" he starts. "Are you all right?". "Well, there's nothing else to say; is everyone downstairs okay?" you inquire. "Actually, once Steve followed you here, everyone decided it was best to go so they all left. Ummm...Loki and I stayed back to make sure you guys were okay" Bucky states. 

"Ohh, we're so sorry for spoiling everyone's evening. "I feel terrible," you grumble. "Are you insane?" There is no reason to be sorry. Small quarrels between Husband and Wife are practically necessary, it's a sign of a happy marriage, right?" Bucky tries to brighten the atmosphere. "That's true, but this isn't a small fight!" you chuckle in response to his remark. His expression alters one's perception of the scenario. You sense a presence behind you, and the warmth of his breath on your neck indicated how close he was. "Bucky, could you give us a minute? he finally speaks. And just as Bucky was about to walk away, you stop him and say, "Bucky, I don't have anything further to talk about and I'd like to be left alone." you demand and walk out of the room. 

You stomp down the stairs and come face to face with Loki, who is sitting at the table. He turns around and walks to you when he hears footsteps. "Hey, what happened?" he inquires as he examines your puffy and swollen eyes. Tears spring up in your eyes once more, and you clutch Loki for comfort. He encircles you with his hand, rubs your back, and tells you to let it all out. After a while, when you're feeling a little better, you back away, giggling as you notice your tears have soiled his shirt. "I'm so sorry!" you say.

"Don't worry, are you feeling okay, love?" he asks, smiling as you nod your head. "I feel better!.....Ohh look you cleaned the kitchen," you notice, pointing at your spotless kitchen counters and table. 

"Ohh yeah, I know how much you worship cleanliness, soo....I decided to take some stuff off your plate," he giggles, amusing you. , "Ahh there's the smile, it's been hidden for way too long!" He boops your nose.  "Shut up!" you sarcastically slap his hand away. Before you can say anything else, your stomach begins to grumble loudly, startling you. Loki laughs hysterically as he says, "OH MY GOD, look at that, someone is really hungry I guess." Your embarrassed self was speechless. "Shall we feed her?" he asks, offering his elbow for you to grab. Accepting the generous gesture, you walk out of the house with him, making sure to take your phone, keys didn't matter because you were definitely not coming back for a few days at least.

Masterlist

Taglist: @shyconversationalbookworm @justreadingthatsit @rogersdrysdalebarber @sleutherclaw @sophiaedits @kalopsia-flaneur @thedancingnerdmermaid @foxchild-v @blossomedfloweroflove @jessyballet @aubageddon91 @witchychanel @the-soot-sprite @delicatecapnerd @darkjellyfishcoffee @ragamuffin285

Reblogs are appreciated ❣

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

To Raise Children: Chapter 1

Chris Evans X Daughter!Reader, Grandpa!Chris Evans X Flynn and Felix Evans (OCs) Tom Holland X Single-Mom!Reader (Slow Burn)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: It's been 4 years, your sons are starting kindergarten, you're starting junior year of college, a lot has changed.

Chapter Summary: The boys try to sneak cookies but Chris catches them.

Series Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 20, Tom is 29), absent father, mentions teen pregnancy, mentions abortion, if you see anymore please let me know politely.

Chapter Warnings:

Sequel to "It Takes A village"

Flynn snuck through the house doing his best not to make a noise. He was trying to sneak into the kitchen to get cookies. You had told him and Felix to wait until after lunch. So of course Felix was on lookout duty while Flynn snuck into the kitchen. You were doing laundry, and Chris was on the phone in the dining room. Flynn had to be extra sneaky because Chris can see the kitchen from the Dining room. Flynn ducked behind the counter before making his way to the cookie jar.

"Whatcha doing there?" Chris asked leaning over the island looking at his grandson.

"Uh admiring floor with Dodger," Flynn said pointing to the dog who was sleeping on the floor.

"Mhm, Felix! Come here!" He exclaimed and the other boy come hurrying in.

"Yes, Poppy?" The boy smiles innocently.

"Don't tell your mom," Chris said before handing them both a cookie. "Run along now and this stays between us." The boys smiled before running off with the cookies. Chris chuckled shaking his head.

———

You started cosmetology school again in a week. Your sons start Kindergarten the same week. A part of you was happy about it cause child care is expensive and despite doing school at home, you still worked out of the house. The other part of you was sad cause your babies were growing up.

Now, of course with the boys being in public school you can put a few more dollars each month toward buying a home. You also put what you had leftover of your college fund to it as well. You want to move out of your dad's home soon. You know Chris didn't care if you lived there. So you had that going for you.

You put 50 dollars into your savings every payday. And you had 300 dollars left over from your college fund. You started saving for a house when you were 17, so now at twenty years old you have, 5,500 dollars saved up. You knew it would take you a while to buy a house or even to rent. Really the only reason you have extra spending money to use on your kids is that you don't have to pay anything to live with Chris, sure you bought everything for Flynn and Felix, including their favorite snacks. But Chris paid for the house and the groceries. He just expected you to help around the house obviously. You also watched dodger whenever your dad was away.

He secretly liked you living with him, and especially loved being around his grandsons all the time. He also knew it was so much cheaper and easier for you if you lived with him rather than renting since rent is over 2k for a two-bed apartment. Plus you having to buy all your groceries. You'd be struggling to pay for everything. He also knows you're too stubborn to let him help with anything except babysitting occasionally.

Taglist: @fic-for-readers @denisemarieangelina @shadow-dixon @thevelvetseries @kaitieskidmore1 @ellerosie2332 @tahniemarie @runawayolives @marajillana @buckybarnez @positivelyholland @coldmuffinpartycloud @beautifulrose0809 @Olivia197810 @believinghurts @laura-naruto-fan1998 @kalopsia-flaneur @some-lovely-day @shadow-dixon @gengen64 @firehoseevan @silverrmistt

[mysticalrambling]

Ending It All (Alternate Ending)

A/N: This is an alternate ending for those who wanted the reader and Chris to end up back together, This series have officially come to an end so thank you so much for all your support guys. I am open to blurb requests and I would love it if you send some requests. I’ll be happy to write about them. Love you guys🤍

._._._._._.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Chris Evans Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: You break up with Tom because the kids call him dad and you just didn’t want anyone to take Chris’s place. Chris comes over and you both confess that you still love each other. You get back together and the kids are really happy about it.

Warnings: Angst and fluff.

._._._._.

“Hey. What happened?” Chris asked as soon as you opened the door with tears running down her face.

“I’m sorry for calling you at this time. It’s just- I just-” Unable to continue your sentence, you buried your face in your hands and let out a gut wrenching sob.

“Come here, darling.” Gently taking you in to his arms, he led you to the couch. Once you calmed down a little, he spoke again. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I broke up with Tom.”

“Why?”

The whole day was still running through your mind like it was still happening. Tom had come to your house to take you and the kids to dinner. You had been dating for almost a year now and it had been baby steps. You still had feelings for Chris and even though you wanted to move on, you couldn’t. He was still the love of your life and you were afraid that he might always be.

You liked Tom but you didn’t know if you would ever love him. He was a really nice person with a great personality but he might not be the one for you. However, there was always a chance that if you spend more time with you would fall in love with him. Your kids loved him and he would be a perfect life partner. At least, that’s how you kept convincing yourself to be in that relationship.

“Darling, you need to tell me. I’m worried here.” The little frown on his forehead told you how concerned he actually was.

“Mia called him daddy. I couldn’t-” Hearing your daughter address Tom with that word tore your heart apart. No one deserved that title more than your ex husband. He may have not wanted you but he was a damn good father to your children.

“Uh, okay. It’s okay. I could have talked to Mia about it.”

“It’s not that. I don’t want my children to ever assume that they have another father.”

Chris was shocked at your outburst. He thought that you were moving on and he knew that the children liked Tom. There was a possibility that they would start addressing Tom as dad and he had come to terms with it. It was all his fault so he was ready to face the karma.

“Just take a deep breath and tell me what you are feeling right now.”

Wiping the tears away, you spoke with a slightly broken voice. “I don’t want my children to have another father. Hell, I don’t want another man or husband in my life.”

“(Y/N), it’s okay if you’re not ready right now.” Even though it had been almost three years till your divorce, he understood that you might not be ready to move on. He was not so he knew how you must be feeling.

“That’s just the point. I don’t want anyone else.”

“’kay.” Chris was confused as to where this was going and he didn’t want to assume anything.

“God, I’m so pathetic.”

“Hey, hey.” Making you face her, he talked in a soothing voice. “You can be honest with me.”

“You don’t want me and I am still pining over you.”

“(Y/N), I-”

“I don’t have any self respect because I still want to be in your life. I still love you even though three years have passed by.”

Still sitting on his knees on the floor, he saw you pacing around the living room. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You still wanted him. You still wanted to be with him after all the things he had done. After all the crap he put you through. This all felt like dream.

You were still blabbering and Chris just got up from his place and kissed you. Startled, you didn’t respond at first but then you closed your eyes and responded. This was what you were talking about. The kiss was magical and no one made you feel like that.

“Listen, darling. I love you too and I regret tearing us apart from the moment I did it. I was a fool for ever thinking that I could ever live without you. I just want my family back.”

With tears in your eyes, you smiled at him. “We’re going to take this slow but we can tell the kids tomorrow that we’re getting back together.” You wanted to work on your relationship and not just dive back in. You wanted to do it right this time.

“Whatever you say darlin’.” Pecking you on your lips, he mumbled against your lips. “Want to kiss the children goodbye.”

“You can sleep with me but nothing else.”

“I promise.”

“Let’s go to our kids now.”

Walking up to their joined room, you both leaned down and kissed Jace and Mia on their foreheads one by one. Chris picked up their pillows from the floor and raised their heads to place it underneath them. You covered them with their blankets and gently closed their bedroom door.

You slept peacefully that night with your lover’s arms wrapped around you. It was the best sleep that you had in the past three years. You knew that everything was going to be okay and you were going to be happy. Your family was finally going to be okay.

“Mommy! Daddy! You’re both here!” Two excited voices woke you both up from your sleep and simultaneous jumping on the bed.

“Guys, stop.” Chris got up and took them both in his lap. “Inner voices.”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“I want some cuddles now.” Both the kids snuggled in to their father’s chest and laid back down with him. This was your family’s routine every morning before the divorce and your chest was bursting out of happiness when you saw the routine in place. “Get in here, (Y/N). The hug is incomplete without you.”

“Okay but just for ten minutes and then we’ll have breakfast.”

“Okay, mommy.” The collective response from all three of them made you laugh out loud and you playfully hit your husband’s chest.

“Love you guys.” Murmuring the sentence emotionally, he tightened his arms around his little family.

He never thought that he would get you all back. He thought he had lost you all and he would be left alone. But you are giving him a chance and he was so lucky to have you. He was okay with taking things slow because he knew there were many things that needed to be worked out. However, you all were together right now and that’s what matters.

“We love you too.” You all kissed him one by one and just laid there in each other’s arms. It was blissful and everything was going to be okay.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._._.

A/N: I loved writing this series so much. It might be one of my best works yet so hope you guys love it. Tell me how you feel about this series.Once again,  I’m open to requests. 

Taglist: @peculiarpenman, @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile, @iguessweallcrazyithinktho, @jessyballet, @caanyoonmoon, @coldmuffinpartycloud, @marvelfansworld, @agnesk, @lauracontisstuff, @deepintothenature, @xcaptain-winterx, @nostxlgia18, @sophiaedits, @luckyladycreator2, @mrspeacem1nusone 

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

[iguana-eyanna]

What Was Left Behind Pt. 11

Summary: After the events of the Sokovia Accords, Steve is now a fugitive to the U.S. government and has left you in the worst way possible. What happens when fate reunites the two again when you are most vulnerable?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x pregnant reader

Warning: hospitalization, problems within the pregnancy, Tony fighting Steve, mentions of possible character death

Sam and Steve were already heading to your house until they received Nat’s frantic call about you. Steve was driving the truck and never had this man break so many traffic laws (and crushed the steering wheel like the Hulk) in his life.

Once they got to the base, Steve didn’t even park as he just jumped out of the car to head to you. At the medbay, Steve saw Dr. Choi coming out of a closed curtain room.

“What happened?” he said worryingly. The doctor lowered her head down to find the right words. “I found out that the blood transfusion made her condition worse. The baby absorbed all of your enhanced DNA, making them grow at an immense rate. She needs to deliver soon.” she said.

Steve’s head was spinning, trying to wrap this information. “I don’t understand, I thought it was making her better. Won’t the baby be premature?” Choi’s face saddens as she has more bad news.

“The baby is practically full term, almost as if the fetus is overdue. Her body can’t sustain such strain. She must have been going through this pain for a while now. I suggest an all-natural birth as performing a c-section is too risky. We don’t know if either of them will survive such stress.”

Nat comes out of your room, looking at a very pale Steve “Hey big guy, let’s sit down… ey?” he nods his head as he slowly takes a seat while Nat wrapped up the conversation with Dr. Choi till she left for the nearest lab. Nat takes the seat next to Steve, unsure what to say.

“She was fine this morning. Why wouldn't she tell me something was wrong?" Steve questions, trying to grasp what's happening. Nat purses her lips, placing her hand on his shoulder for support. "Because she didn't want to lose you." she says in a faint tone.

Steve shoots his direction to her. "What do you mean?" he asks, flabbergasted. Nat looks down, trying to choose her next words carefully.

"Steve, she knew from the start that this pregnancy was going to be the death of her. She left the only life she's known to escape threats for your baby. Not only that, but she had to do it ALONE. Now that she's with you, she didn't want to throw away the limited time you guys had. I know y/n, she probably wanted to spend her last memories with the ones she cherished instead of wasting away on a hospital bed."

Steve stays silent, suffering inside with tears drenching his face. He faces in your direction, probably thinking you are scared for your life. Steve turns to nat as she nods her head for him to visit you, standing up and wiping his tears away to go to you.

You were in bad condition. It was as if all the color from your skin had drained away. The only color that appeared was the purple bruises that were forming at your exposed belly that was wrapped in belts to monitor the baby's heartbeat.

"Please don't look at me like that." you whispered as you struggled to get up from your lying position, trying to grab a thicker blanket to cover your shivering figure.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked as he grabbed the blanket and tucked you gently. “Believe me, I suffered worst.” you said as you straightened up a bit, rubbing your very big belly. He showed a face of guilt, but you just clutched his hand softly as he slowly sat at the edge of the left side of the bed.

He held your left hand, gliding his finger on your wedding ring. "Remember when I proposed to you?" he asks lightly. You begin to chuckle as you stare into his blue eyes.

"How could I forget? You were so nervous that we arrived late to the reservation. You were so persistent that we walked the block to a nearby diner and it started raining. I could tell you were visibly upset but I said 'the worst moments happen before the great ones.' Just like that, you knelt on one knee."

He smiles down in his lap, remembering his past frustration that melted away because of your reassuring words. "and I said that 'because of you, you changed everything in my life into something greater. I knew that the second I met you, I couldn't go a day without your smile or your laugh.' Then I took out the ring that I designed after your mother's locket."

You cup your hands around his face. "And it was the most beautiful ring." You both stay in your positions, enjoying the quiet that surrounds you.

"I need to ask you something..." you began as your eyes stung with tears. "If things go south, I need you to promise me that you do whatever it takes to save the baby. Alright?" you sniffed.

It was a hard pill to swallow as you two knew that you were probably not going to make it. But if one of you were to say it out loud, both your worlds would crumble.

He kisses your lips with such affirmation. “How can I say no to my best doll?” he huffed out, trying so hard not to cry again as he forced a small smile.

Your eyes start to flutter, causing Steve to help you in a comfortable position to sleep. He fixes your hair out of your face, then kneels down to kiss your temple. "I love you," he mutters softly before leaving the room.

Steve sees Sam and Nat in the waiting area, waiting for news on your well-being. "She's sleeping right now. Call me when she wakes up." Steve said sternly, walking like a man on a mission.

"Where are you going?" Nat screamed after Steve. He turns around briefly, looking straight at her in the eye.

"Like you said, y/n wants to be surrounded with the ones she cherishes. I'm going to uphold that wish."

Sam chases after Steve who is heading to a small aircraft. “Look man, I know what you’re going to do. I think you’re doing a noble thing but it’s a suicide mission. You don’t even know what’s going to happen to you.” Sam says as Steve turns on the monitor, hearing the engines roar.

“I have to die trying. If y/n doesn’t get this closure, she never will. I need to do this alone, but if I don’t make it… promise you’ll give her the necklace.” Steve says, holding out his hand to Sam. His friend’s face turns serious as he shakes the captain’s hand. “You do that yourself, Cap. You’re going back to your family in one piece.” Steve nods his head, prepping for the flight that can lead him to possible death.

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

“Boss, there’s an unknown aircraft that is heading this way.” FRIDAY alerted Tony as he was finishing dinner with Pepper. Tony gets up in cue as he presses a small button on his chest that surrounds his body with his armor. “Go and wait in the room. I’ll figure out what’s going on. I’ll have FRIDAY have you listen to what’s going to happen” Tony said in alert.

Pepper kissed him briefly and ran her way up the stairs. Stark flies out on the terrace and heads to the small aircraft. “Hey there, I don’t know if you noticed but you’re kinda trespassing on my property. I need to ask you to fly along wherever you came from before I call the local authorities and you know the drill.”

He backs up a bit as the aircraft slowly turns around to open the back ramp, revealing the last person he wants to see. “Tony… hear me out before you-” the man is cut off as Tony blasts him near his right shoulder, grazing into a wound. He falls back by the sudden impact, trying to tend the injury with pressure

Tony’s face is revealed to talk to his old friend. “You have ten seconds to explain what you’re doing here before I blast you in the sky.” Tony demanded as he raised his hand that was lighting up with energy. “It’s y/n!” Steve screamed out. Tony lowers his hand.

Tony’s face softens just from hearing your “Wha-what happened to her? Is she alright?” Steve slowly gets up, grunting lightly from his arm. “The doctor’s think she’s dying, Tony. They said she won’t be able to survive the birth. The only person she wants to have her dying moments in that delivery room is you.”

Tony is speechless, he suddenly looks back to see Pepper staring at them from the terrace. He could visibly see her crying and mouthing out “Go to her.” Without warning, Tony goes into the aircraft, now standing next to Steve as the door closed.

Steve is about to say something before getting interrupted by a phone call. Steve excuses himself to answer it. “Hey, I’m on my way. Tell -” his voice drowns out as he hears screaming on the phone. Steve tries to reply but the end goes silent.

“Steve, what’s going on?” Tony asks in a concerned tone. Steve turns to Tony as his face turned ghostly white.

“That was Natasha… y/n is going into labor.”

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

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @bluemoon-icecream @castellandiangelo @coldmuffinpartycloud @denise-was-here @emmy626 @fandom-life-12 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @friyak1 @httphiddlestan @ihearthockeyy @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jessyballet @jordynhouston @kalopsia-flaneur @lharrietg @lharrietg @lou-lou26 @lou-lou26ydia223 @lydia214 @marantha @marquisofmelis @rhapsodic-memories @scxrlettlove @smyfmj @supraveng @thatblondebrownie @turtlepad @youdidnotseethisluv

[deliciousangelfestival]

Loving You Is Too Difficult - I don’t love you anymore (Alternate Ending)

A/N: In the last chapter, I wrote that the reader doesn’t completely move on from Steve.

So, I wrote this chapter as an alternate ending for Loving You Is Too Difficult. 

In this chapter, the reader starts to open up her heart with someone new. She deserves to be happy too. 

Taglist : @lovely-geek​ , @kalopsia-flaneur​ , @itskikiyooo​

Character : Steve Rogers x Female Reader / Female Reader x OC

Words: 1,123

Summary: Steve went back, hoping that you would take him back. But he was crushed seeing you in someone else's arms. 

The song prompt for this chapter is from LANY - I Don’t Wanna Love You Anymore.

Check out the Masterlist (Loving You Is Too Difficult - Completed).

You and Oliver have lived in Switzerland for a year now. Living as a single mother in a foreign country was challenging, but you made it through. 

You made new friends and colleagues at the university. What you like about them is they know who you are, but they respect your privacy. 

You became a close friend with Amelia, who is a professor of piano. She guides you to the new workplace. 

She knew you were a single mother; she gave you a lot of helpful advice. 

You admire her, but sometimes you want her to stop trying to set up a date with her nephew. 

One day you had enough and finally said, “Alright, Amel, I will go. But don’t be mad at me if it doesn’t work out.” You feel bad for rejecting her request too many times. 

“Well, it’s his loss.” 

That night, you were nervous. It’s been a while since you went out on a date after being in a long-term relationship. 

When you walked into the restaurant, you were waiting for your date. 

You’ve been waiting for ten minutes. You were busy looking at the clock. You didn’t realize the server kept giving you drinks and snacks. 

“Excuse me, but I haven't ordered yet.”

The server smiles at you. “Our chef made it especially for you.”

You didn’t understand what she meant. 

Amelia only tells you that her nephew won’t be late. It turned out your date is the owner and also the chef of the restaurant. 

“He was too nervous to meet you. He didn’t stop checking the food at the back, making sure it’s perfect.”

You glance at the kitchen door and see someone looking at you through the window. Your date quickly hides when you see him. 

You learned why your date is late; he wants to impress you and make sure everything is perfect. 

You chuckled. “Could you please tell my date that everything is perfect, and I can’t wait to meet him?”

The waitress laughed and went to the back. You could hear some laughter; It seems like your date is close with his employee. 

When your date finally appeared, you felt a butterfly in your stomach. 

You heard ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ Well, it turned out, it works on a woman too. 

From the way he walked, you could see he was pretty nervous, but in his eyes, there’s only you right now. 

His name is Leon. 

Both of you had a memorable first date. 

Amelia was cheering when she found out about her nephew, and you hit it off. 

Leon knows what you’ve been going through. Before you told him more about your son, he asked you to bring Oliver. “Let’s have an outdoor date.”

You were nervous if Olie would welcome Leon or not. 

At first, Olie was shy when Leon introduced himself, but he started to trust Leon. 

When you saw Olie sit down on Leon’s shoulder, you can’t help but imagine if it was Steve who did the same. You shrugged that image because Steve is not here anymore. He went back to be with his first love. 

You remember that you should move forward. You are looking at how happy Olie and Leon perhaps you finally found your happiness. 

After you welcome Leon into your life, your family can see that you’re not sad anymore.

Move forward to 2023 : (Since the reader is not single anymore, everything changed.)

Steve P.O.V

At Ross’s birthday party.

Steve wasn't ready when he found the boy that was sitting beside you looked like him. From that moment, he knew that little boy was his son. 

“Oliver, do you want to say something?”

Oliver greeted the guest with a small ‘Hello’ that made the elderly guest go ‘aww'; seeing adorable Ollie made them remember their grandchildren. 

“I’m going to play a Happy Birthday song for Grandpa Ross and Daddy because they share the same birthday. That’s why we have two cakes. Daddy made it!”

Everyone laughed together. 

But not for Steve. It killed him without any warning. His heart is bleeding seeing his son calling someone else his father.

When his son mentions that man as his father, does it mean that you’re married?

He doesn’t want to see it, but his eyes are looking at your wedding ring, identical to the man sitting beside Ross. 

He couldn’t stay inside; he felt suffocated seeing you belong with someone else. 

He went out to take a breath. He’s been out for a long time; he wonders if he should go in or not. Steve wished he should’ve left earlier.  

Because right now, he saw Ollie holding hands with the man who turned out to be your husband. 

“Daddy, I want to see the fish.”

Leon chuckled, seeing Oliver being excited. “Slow down son, be careful.” 

Both of them didn’t know when their happiness made Steve suffer. 

When you meet Steve :

You were having a peaceful day until Steve suddenly appeared. 

“Can I meet him?” Steve is hoping that you will allow him to meet Oliver. 

“I don’t think so, Steve. He only knew Leon as his father.” You didn’t want Oliver to meet his birth father because you don’t want your son to go through the same pain again. Whenever you are with Steve, your life always faces a new danger. Your world would crush if something happened to Oliver. 

“How could you!” Steve screamed and punched the wall. 

You didn’t get intimidated when he raised his voice. You kept calm and said, “You have no right to think that I’m not fair. It was you who left.” 

He felt ashamed and got his act again. He sighed. “You should’ve told me if you were pregnant.”

“I found out weeks after you left, even if I told you, you would still choose her over me.”

Steve felt his world stop for a moment when he heard that. 

You could see the pain in his eyes. 

“(Y/N) do I still have the chance?”

“Steve…” You took a moment before you said, “I don’t love you anymore.” 

When Steve heard that, he felt like someone had cut his heart open, stabbed it, and poured acid into his wound.

But you didn’t feel anything when you saw Steve struggle to hold his tears. What did he expect to come back? Did he think you would open the door, welcome him with open arms, and become a complete family?

Your answer is No.

You gave him a chance years ago, and he blew it. 

There’s no other chance for him. 

Steve realized you didn't say anything. You didn’t even try to comfort him. The cold gaze you gave made him scared.   

He knew what it meant. 

There’s no room for him in your heart. 

[luv-tiffanyblue]

can i be added to the taglist for your Jasper fic? sorry if this is the wrong place to ask.

You have the right place to ask! However, your user does not let me be able to tag you and I cannot find you when I put the @ sign. I only allow users who are able to be tagged, but to fix this just look at your settings and allow your blog to be seen by others. This way I will be able to tag you and add you into my taglist. @absentfromlife (not able to tag you yet)

[fvsm4x]

𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐃 ✧ prologue

Growing up as childhood friends, you and Satoru Gojo share a deep bond that only strengthens as you both mature. Now, as your personal knight and protector, Satoru's feelings for you become harder to hide.

c.w. none series masterlist Next ->

The palace gardens had always been your secret world, a place where the weight of crowns and titles melted away. Among the blooming flowers and towering trees, you were not a princess, and he was not just the son of the kingdom’s head knight—you were simply two children, laughing and exploring without a care. It was here, in the hidden corners of the royal grounds, that you first met Satoru Gojo.

He had been a whirlwind of mischief even then, with his silver hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. Despite his cheeky grin and reckless bravado, Satoru always made you feel safe. As the years passed, your bond only deepened. While others in the palace treated you with the careful distance reserved for royalty, Satoru was different. He never hesitated to tease you, challenge you, and most of all, protect you.

But childhood gave way to the burdens of adulthood. Satoru grew into a formidable knight, sworn to guard you with his life, while you were shaped into the perfect princess, prepared to sacrifice everything for the kingdom. Still, the connection you shared remained unbroken, though now tinged with something neither of you dared to name.

As you watched Satoru from the palace balcony, overseeing the training grounds where he effortlessly commanded the respect of seasoned warriors, you realized that the boy you once knew was now a man. And with that realization came a truth you could no longer ignore—your heart had long been entwined with his.

But duty loomed large, and with it, the expectations of marriage, alliances, and the kingdom's future. In this world of power and politics, could the bond you and Satoru shared survive? Or would it be another sacrifice demanded by the crown?

Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: the boy who had once been your closest friend was now the man who held your heart, and the lines between duty and desire were becoming harder to draw.

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

banner belongs to _3aem

taglist: @sadmonke @theonlyhonoredone @itzmeme @dcvilxswish @kalopsia-flaneur

[self-indulgent-imagination]

July, 2017

Warning: Pregnancy(?), pregnancy-related discomfort, a wee bit of angst

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

My darling Stevie,

The weather is killing me!! Turns out that the sweltering heat of mid-July isn’t conducive to a comfortable eighth month of pregnancy, at all. I long for one moment of reprieve, one moment of relief… Just one single moment… And on top of that, mom keeps telling me about how it was when she was pregnant with me, and it drives me absolutely crazy, Steve! Thank God, you aren’t here though! Even usually, your body temperature runs high; you would’ve frustrated me to no end were you here, what with your need to fuss…..

But otherwise, I’m fine. Our little bug is doing great, too! They’re very healthy, though they still won’t let me sleep. Now they’ve taken up a really bad habit of sitting on my bladder. At times like these, I fervently wish you were here. Your voice would’ve definitely soothed them, and then they wouldn’t have tormented their poor mama so much.

Oh, what is going on with me, Steve? One moment, I’m glad you aren’t here and the next, I’m angry…. So angry that you aren’t here. I know why you can’t be here and yet, I can’t help but feel utterly peeved. And the thoughts….. I have so terrifying dreams, Stevie….. Please, please tell me that you’re alright. Please.

I’ve been pleading you for almost eight months now to let me know that you’re alright, and you haven’t responded yet. What am I supposed to think? Are you not responding because you cannot truthfully say that you’re alright? (Oh, Stevie, please let it not be so…..) Or have I made you mad in some way, done something to displease you? Or…. Or is it because you’re not getting my letters at all? Steve, please don’t leave me hanging like this. Please, darling, for the sake of our child, if not yours or mine, tell me whether you’re alright, whether Bucky, Sam, Nat are alright. Please. I beg you.

I’m feeling quite tired now, so I’ll leave it to this. Please take care, sweetheart. Be safe. I love you.

Hoping to hear from you soon,

Yours till the very end,

Y/N.

P.S.: What should we name them, Stevie? I was thinking of James Samuel for a boy and Sarah Adaira for a girl. What do you say?

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

A/N: So, what did you think? Do let me know! And most importantly, thank you so much for reading :)

@austynparksandpizza: I'm afraid you'll have to wait for quite a bit... At least 10-15 more letters from Y/N's perspective.

@kalopsia-flaneur: Thank you so much 🙈

August, 2017

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

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza

[onsunnyside]

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: *if your name isn't there, you couldn't be tagged. I update my taglist whenever I post.*

follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.

𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗹 𝗢𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀 | @a3trogirl @mommasaurus209 @moonlacebeam @gbaabyyyy @chrisfucksblog @sweetlilbambi @milkjuggie24 @jupitervenusearthmars @sleepilysworld @mandiiblanche @liapantsonfire @winter-soldier-101 @marvelmenwhore @rocketxgirl @foreveralone223 @ajaviary @buckyslwts @niinjo @hagridsmomma @emi11ie

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗔 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀 | @kalopsia-flaneur @kaatelyyynn @feyfantome @umavvitch @honeybuckybarnes @nomadstucky @heavenhatesme @rootcrop @jasminedayz @needmorereading @helenaeisenhower @evergreenh8

༻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝟑/𝟑)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!steve, nomad!steve, fluff, angst, size difference, manhandling, possessive!/protective!steve, gentle giant!Steve, SMUT - minors DNI, size kink, manhandling, oral (m&f), dirty talk, spitting, grinding, lots of cum, unprotected sex.

𝗪/𝗖 | 11K

𝗔/𝗡 | Let's all pretend this was posted on time. Firstly, thank you everyone for coming on this journey with me on my first big AU, I'm sad to see it end, but I'll always be open for blurbs and drabbles for this series. (little past mentioned) James Conrad x doctor!reader. Also, this is not PWP, so it’s much more plot in this chapter than smut !

All mistakes are my own, I'll be revisiting this chapter tomorrow and over the weekend to edit it and add parts, so it'll probably change soon ! Check out the role reversal of this story: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞

Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Well, I didn’t know jealousy was in attendance tonight–oh wait, it’s just you under all that green envy, Doc–how’s the gala treating you?”

You inhale deeply, avoiding the smug smirk playing on Tony’s lips. You turn to face him, leaning an elbow on the bar as the wine swooshes in the glass. “Did Pepper finally ditch you for the head security guard of the tower?”

Tony laughs loudly, slapping a hand over his chest. “Oh my, it seems I’ve struck a nerve.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes once again landing on the tall, burly blond across the room by the piano. His carefully gelled hair is visible above everyone’s heads, as a sea of reporters and other socialites surround him, hanging off every word he says. From here, you can practically see them swoon and fall for his magnetic charm.

“This is good for him.” You say, trying to convince yourself. “He’s been practicing speaking for weeks–he wants to make a good impression.”

“He has confidence and potential, I’ll give him that.” Tony signals for a refill of his glass, the bartender filling it immediately. He sips slowly, eyes flickering between you and Steve. “You know, we could have just put out a statement. It would have been far less stressful and you wouldn’t have to watch that.” The brunet winces as a young beautiful woman lays a hand on Steve’s arm, caressing his bulging bicep under his suit.

You quickly look down at your heeled feet, remembering Steve asking how you suddenly got a few inches taller after getting ready–you proceeded to show him your heels, “How…walk around in those? Hurt? So–pointy…”

“The public would have made up horrible rumours about him–you saw what they did to Bucky.”

“Barnes was an assassin who was unjustly blamed for the death of–” Tony snaps his mouth shut, grinning at the passing socialites, then once they’re gone, he rolls his eyes, “--Those two are basically the biggest blabbermouths of the city, and Peter nearly spilled the beans about the manbeast to those punks.” He huffs. “The kid is smart, but his mouth sometimes isn’t… an odd mix considering he’s in charge of presentations for the new interns.”

You sigh loudly.

Tony raises a hand in surrender, “--As I was saying, that is a weak comparison between Barnes and Rogers, one is a completely clean slate, no foul, no blood, nothing–and you seem to be convinced people will dig up some dirt on him, yet allowed him to be interview by himself.”

“I’m not convinced that they’ll dig up dirt–there isn’t dirt anyway, he isn’t a bad person.” You correct, gaze dragging across the vast ballroom. People in different, sleek gowns and suits, chatting enthusiastically, eating hors d'oeuvres and sipping fancy champagne or wine. “The independence will be good for him, and he wasn’t against it.”

“But he wanted you with him all night, right?”

You sag, fiddling with your necklace, that was enough for Tony.

“Doc, I know you care about him,” The man starts, furrows his brows as he finds the words, “but maybe you’re doing what you think is better for him–and in turn, you’re ignoring what he knows is best for the both of you.”

Your eyes widen and you shoot him a look, “What coming of age novel did you get that from?”

“The one Peter left in the lab,” Tony says, so easily that you don’t know if it’s the truth or not. “I understand that getting his face out there and showing everyone he isn’t a threat is important. Ignoring the fact that we’re admitting that S.H.I.E.L.D. is once again, a mountain of secrets that go down to the Earth’s core,” He cracks a smile when you laugh lightly, “But is all that publicity worth it when you’re sulking in this beautiful dress, and some noisy reporter is hanging off your fella’s arm?”

“He doesn’t know what she’s doing, it isn’t his fault.”

“I agree–but, if you told him the difference between being friendly and flirting, I think he’d brush off the press in the blink of an eye,” Tony says as he steps away, disappearing into the crowd.

You knew that, and you also knew that Steve would attract attention. People were moths to his flame, and you weren’t jealous–rather proud that he was handling it all so well–considering he despised the suit he was wearing too, clothes are just, ugh.

You bring the glass to your lips, still in a daze and not realizing your glass was empty. A delicate clang sounds behind you, a familiar drawl ringing in your ears.

“Bartender, refill for that glass, please.”

Turning around, a startled laugh escapes your body. Slowly taking in the tall, slender dark-haired man before you. “I can order for myself, you know?”

The man chuckles, a hand running down his velvet suit jacket. His blue eyes twinkle, “I figured you were too busy staring off into space to bother.” James leans over, following your line of sight across the room, a knowing smile crawling on his face, “or rather, longingly admiring from afar.”

“You’re hilarious.” You say bluntly, taking a long gulp of your drink. “Did your date get sick of you already?”

James rolls his eyes, nudging your shoulder, “I don’t know, did you ever get sick of me when we went on dates?”

Your scoff, a little part of you thankful for another familiar face in the sea of socialites and reporters, though, James’ British accent was fresh among the distant chatter. He’s sporting a slight stubble, his brown-blond hair in a messy gelled style, only aiding to his dashing prince charming flair.

The two of you have a friendly past-turned whirlwind of light romance, stemming from the beginning of your career when you were an intern in a busy city. As the days went by like snapshots, you and James grew close.

When you met him, he was a British S.A.S. officer who was hired by Stark Industries to teach survival techniques and share knowledge about jungle warfare. Throughout your friendship, there was occasional mutual flirting, definitely some attraction until you both took it one step further. The romantic relationship didn’t last very long, you were too busy with your career, and he was being sent back to London for work. The two of you decided it was best to end it before things turned sour–despite the break-up, you still consider James a good friend.

“So, that’s the Rogers’ son.” James hums, “he’s a lot bigger than what I expected.”

You stare up at him because of his towering height. There’s a playful quirk on his lips. “You knew?”

“I suspected something.” The brunet rephrases, “And I may have been consulted for tracking him down.”

Of course, his new profession. “That’s why you’re here tonight, to get your face plastered on the papers for helping?” You quip.

“Credit is due where credit is deserved, and I like to think I helped at least a little,” James smirks, his gaze trailing down your face and neck. “I couldn’t make it to the expedition but I assume it all went well.”

“As well as it could have. A sprained wrist was worth all of this, and all of him.” you glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with the giant ways away, you give him a small wave but Steve’s gaze shifts to your ex next to you. One second later, and the realization is evident on his face, undoubtedly recognizing the man from the box of old photographs deep in your closet.

You and Steve had gone through the pictures, you wanted to show him ones of your family, back home and your first days in New York–you didn’t expect a few coupley ones to slip out too.

“Captain Conrad!” A voice calls from the crowd. James twists around, lifting a hand before pushing off the bar.

“I’ll see you later?” He walks backwards, both eyebrows raised.

You just shake your head, turning back to your drink and noticing it was empty once again. This time when you look back at Steve, he’s still staring at you, the ghost of a grin on his face. He raises his glass of water with a wink, melting you from across the room.

It happens in a passing moment, but Steve, seemingly more vigilant tonight, notices immediately. The night has come to an end, the press leaving in good spirits and hopeful of the absolute story in their hands–the once highly confidential mission of the Avengers’ finally revealed, a man who survived in the jungle for his whole life, the son of a missing S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist who injected him with a recreation of Erskine's formula–a mouthful, but pure gold in the eyes of the public.

Steve’s story is going worldwide, and that creates a tsunami of attention.

Earlier in the evening when he was answering the millions of questions for reporters, he felt strange when they would touch his arms, or lean a little too close. He thought they had too much to drink–you told him what alcohol can do to someone, and Steve connected the dots.

Must be drunk. Maybe needs to stop?

So he took a glass from a young reporter and she giggled and thanked him–she thought he was going to be a gentleman and get her another glass–but Steve just placed it on a passing waiter's tray and returned to the conversation, as if he didn’t just cut the woman off.

Now, you and Steve are standing by the exit, waving and bidding farewell to the attendees tonight. Polite smiles, and halfhearted chuckles, as they leave through the wide elegant doors.

As the young reporter from earlier stalks closer, bright eyes locked on him, Steve feels your grip tighten on his arm. You lightly pull him to your level before pressing a lipgloss kiss to his bearded cheek. Then, you grab his chin, meeting his lips swiftly, giggling and wiping the makeup away.

Steve has always trusted his intuition. Growing up in the jungle, he had no choice when he wasn’t taught rules of conduct, he didn’t know anything else.

Going by his gut feeling has saved him many times too.

A nasty fruit here, a mudslide or two, an approaching predator, a poisonous bug or reptile–he wouldn’t be affected by the poison, but it would hurt. The bottom line, he trusted his intuition immensely.

After all, it brought him to you. He had smelt something remarkably different from the normal wilderness when he was with Bruce and the magic colour box–it’s a Rubix cube, Steven, Rubix. He was going to ignore it, far more interested in what else Bruce had brought for him, but there was an underlying instinct, combined with curiosity and protectiveness.

Perhaps an unfamiliar animal had wandered too close, and in the jungle, Steve has learnt that unawareness is a weakness.

He was correct about the unfamiliar animal–you were a woman with a smell that made him lose his mind, which led to him tackling you into the ground, hurting you.

Sometimes, Steve feels bad about that–but you always comfort him. Offering him cuddles and kisses as you comb your fingers through his hair, many instances of his guilt episodes have ended up with your panties on the floor, and his face between your thighs.

At the thought of your wetness all over his mouth, staining his beard and dripping from his tongue, he adjusts himself in his slacks.

“Steve,” you scold, pulling away his hand, “Don’t do that in public.”

He breathes heavily, mind flashing with that little glint in your eyes when you kissed him, claiming him before that woman.

You claimed him, you thought he was yours just as much as he thought you were his. Excitement bubbles in his chest, and also his lower region.

“Steve! I said stop that.” You huff, holding his hand in yours tightly. Glancing around the room for any lingering gazes, you look down at his crotch again and gasp. His length nearly bursting the zipper of his pants, very obviously showing off his gracious gift.

“Touch–please?” The blond murmurs, leaning down to nip at your ear, thick arms wrapping around your body to press against his cock. Slowly, his hips move in circles, desperate for relief, “I’m yours… please, touch–”

Your hand slaps over his mouth, a heat blooming on your face as you hurriedly tug him to the car waiting to take you both back to the tower. You push him into the back before sliding next to him, telling the driver to take a shortcut.

Steve ignores your request to put on a seatbelt, instead, rubbing his hand over the prominent tent in his pants, low groans flowing from his pink lips. You buckle him in, unable to stop him from placing your hand over his cock, slowly thrusting into your grip.

The elevator ride to your floor is unbearably long. Steve is grinding against your ass, mouthing messily at your neck as if the camera isn’t blinking from the corner of the ceiling. As soon as you step foot onto your floor, he starts stripping.

“Can try your mouth?” Steve quickly rips off his shirt, buttons flying and fabric tearing. “Please–be gentle… will try to be.”

You don’t have to be gentle, your mind says as you drink in every inch of his pale skin. The dark hair on his chest–that has surely gotten bigger, thicker since you first met him, as did most of his body. Bulging muscles and meat, veins visible under his taut skin, shifting before your heated eyes.

As he stands nude before the elevator doors, you finally spring into action. Dragging him away from the surveillance area and to the privacy of your bedroom, squirming as his hands start tearing your dress from behind.

“Want to see–didn’t let me see before we left,” Steve murmurs as the bedroom door shuts. He pins you against the wall before hiking your thighs around his waist, his hard leaking cock pressing against your stomach. A deep growl rumbles his chest as your breasts spill out, immediately, he takes your nipple into his mouth. Manhandling you higher on the wall with both his arms, closing his eyes in bliss as he suckles your nipple. “So soft–” He switches to the other, and one moment later, you’re flat on the bed.

A loud tear echoes through the room as your panties flutter to the ground, Steve is standing at the foot of the bed with a hand around his cock. His muscles flex as your thighs spread, revealing your wetness.

He groans, kneeling on the mattress and reaching towards you, “maybe no mouth–”

You stop him before he comes any closer, “but I want to taste you, please?”

An audible breath escapes his nose, jaw clenched tightly as he nods once, then twice. “Yes–yes, mouth.”

Flipping over, you crawl towards him. You feel warm as his eyes trace over your figure, lingering on your ass. Now, lying on your belly with his cock brushing your lips, you allow him to cup the back of your head and pull you closer.

“Heard lots about… how feels.”

A heat combs over your skin, you already know your thighs are sticky. “What did you hear?”

You wrap a hand around his base, feeling the throbbing under your fingers as you drag up his thick girth, the tips of your digits not meeting. You marvel at the prominent veins trailing up the sides, leading to the bulbous head, cum leaking down the redness. Taking the head into your mouth, you lightly suckle, swiping his taste with your tongue.

Steve moans loudly, knees buckling as his hips jerk forward, shoving more between your lips. “Feels… so good, oh.” His voice dies as he peers down at you spitting on his cock, spreading your saliva up and down his length. “Tongue…”

You hum, sliding down to the floor onto your knees. You don’t waste any time, licking from the base to the tip and spitting once more. Squeezing your thighs together, you look up at him before taking him deeper. He’s hot and heavy on your tongue and the fat stretch burns your lips, and you want more. Turns out, so does Steve.

“More–please.” His lashes flutter as you massage his balls in your other hand, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth, slickening his cock as you take more of him.

“C’mon, Steve, don’t be shy.”

“Not shy…” He bites his lip, “can take charge, please?”

You nod with a mouth full of his shaft, your eyes watering slightly as he widens his stance, placing both hands on either side of your head.

As he groans above you with a firm hold and you’re taken by him. Piercing his thick and powerful thighs with your nails as he forces you closer, hips naturally gaining momentum. His skin flushed red, blooming up his heaving chest to his bearded cheeks. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but it doesn’t lessen the heat in his gaze.

His jaw drops as your eyes squeeze shut, a choked whine coming from your throat as he fucks your mouth. You can feel your juices trailing down your thighs as Steve slowly pumps in and out, his thick cock slick with your spit.

“Mouth so…” He pulls out as a string of saliva connects his throbbing tip to your lips, he quickly pulls you back on his cock, “wet, feels so good, sunshine.”

You relax your throat, breathing through your nose and let him use your mouth. Wet noises fill the room as you slobber on his length, trying to take as much as you can–but he’s too big, too thick, you can only get halfway before pushing him away.

The two of you build a pace between his praises in broken English and your own muffled whimpers. He takes your mouth like he owns it, allowing his desires and instincts to take the wheel, but you know he’s still holding back, and you tell him that he can go as deep and as hard as he wants. You know he could go absolutely mindless with pleasure–and you’re right.

Steve is always animalistic whenever you’re intimate, it makes sense he’s the same for his first blowjob.

He experiments with pace and strength, gathering the dripping saliva from your chin to smear on his cock, making the slide smoother so you can take him deeper. His neck craned low, eyes locked on your stretched lips around his fat girth, he can’t get enough of your gagging noises.

“Sunshine, so small down there.” He breathes, “know I’m bigger than you–and like it a lot.”

You whine, massaging his balls again as he hits the back of your throat, sliding deeper.

“Like that too? Know you do–can smell you,” Steve pauses, pulling you off to circling his heavy tip on your swollen lips, he slaps your cheek with it too, wanting to mark you in every way possible, “can smell your cunt.”

You can’t help but reach between your thighs, already on the brink with having him in your mouth, using you so passionately. Your fingers slip inside with ease, you slowly start to bounce on your hand and Steve takes notice.

His motions become rougher, your garbled moans more consistent. “Do like it, so much–touching yourself. Wish I was touching you instead.”

When Steve cums, he’s just as beautiful as he was the first time all those weeks ago. His eyes squeeze shut as his mouth falls open, neck and abs tensing under his pink skin, a low guttural groan nearly vibrating the walls. He floods your mouth, his thick seed spilling from your lips and down to your bare chest, you swallow as much as you can, moving his hands to take a last bit of control.

You lick up his length, gathering any rogue droplets, not wanting his taste to escape even the slightest. Steve helps you out too, swiping the cum from your chin with his fingers, shoving them deep into your mouth until you gag again, “like noise…” his blue eyes fall to your hand, still between your thighs, “like taste more though, want you on my tongue again, please.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t stop after the blowjob. You’re lucky tomorrow was your day off too.

Steve can’t help the nervousness bubbling in his stomach as he stares down at the bouquet–which he made himself at the florists with Sam and Bucky.

This journey actually began with Bruce.

“Love like science?”

Steve trusts Bruce, almost as much as he trusts you. And when he finds the guts to ask about the odd feelings inside him, he goes to the doctor. Although, Bruce wasn’t very knowledgeable in that department and he warns Steve as such.

“Will talk with Buck and Sam, but want to hear Bruce first,” Steve says confidently.

The doctor is nose deep in a thick novel, currently on his lunch break. “You can just tell her, Steve, or make a grand gesture, whatever you feel is right–whenever it feels right.” Bruce tries to be helpful. Truthfully, he’s honoured that Steve came to him first, off all people the man has come to know, he still goes to the first person he’s formed a friendship with. “Unlike experiments, there aren’t specific steps for telling someone your feelings.”

“Nothing to follow?”

“Nothing to follow.” Bruce smiles softly, “Just do what you feel when you feel it's right.”

Before the journey, it was a wondrous whirlwind stemming from when he accidentally threw away your rough version of a document–one that you’ve been working on for weeks. He just wanted to please you, do some spring cleansing–it’s cleaning, Steve, not cleansing–in your shared home.

He dusted the shelves, wiped the windows, cleaned the couch and scrubbed the floor. He also got rid of anything that looked like garbage and in his defense, your bundle of papers was a mess, various scribbles and crinkled sheets, there were coffee stains on the cover. So, he tossed it in the recycling.

One can imagine the rage you felt after coming home to a missing thirty-plus-page document.

You didn’t yell at him, instead, you just sulked into your bedroom and locked the door. Exhausted out of your mind, and completely discouraged.

Steve waited for you to come out, sitting in front of the door and tentatively asking about your day, then when you didn’t answer, he told you about his.

“Got perfect on physics test… and English paper–you helped me write…” He taps on the door, sitting before it like a child. He glances at the doorknob, trying it once again but deflating when it wouldn’t open. “Am sorry, sunshine. Didn’t know–just wanted to do kind thing for you… always work so hard, always so kind. Missed you so much today too–” He presses his forehead on the wood, closing his eyes, “--never meant to hurt, hate when you get hurt or upset.”

He perks up as he hears the shuffling of sheets, jumping to his feet as the lock clicks. Then, he bursts through, sweeping you into his thick arms and kissing all over your face. He feels the wetness on your cheeks and pulls away.

His heart physically aches, like a thousand thorns stabbing his chest. “Oh… so sad?”

You inhale shakily, the softness in his voice making you break down all over again.

“Working too hard, too much. Need break.” Steve frowns, holding you tightly. His bare chest is warm under your cheek. “Will be super careful next time, promise. Will also treat sunshine–be tender.”

From there, bloomed the sweetest displays. Steve put the recipe book to great use, cooking you meals every day and baking you sweets at night and over the weekends. He even had a little apron, always welcoming you home with a beaming smile and delicious food, kissing you breathless before setting up a relaxing bath for you.

Sometimes he’d join, other times he’d just sit outside the tub, holding your hand and listening to you talk about your day.

It was a dream to be doted on like this. Although, you wished to do the same to Steve, knowing he deserved it just as much.

You had gifted him custom plushies that looked just like Peter, Wendy and Tinkerbell. Shortly put, Steve’s body nearly exploded after he realized what they were, he then hauled you off to the bedroom for some special experiencing–as he called it.

Then, he wanted to do more because he felt more than just happy with you, he felt excitement and glee, pure adoration and warmth in your presence.

It was uncharted territory from there. Deeper than anything he’s ever encountered, the unfamiliarity made him uneasy.

That’s what brought him to Sam and Bucky, his first option for help in his particular field. He communicated his confusion with his feelings, starting it off by asking to speak to them in private. “What about… deeper feelings? Like, feel so happy with person, want around all the time–feel relaxed and calm, but also, can’t contain excitement or happiness.”

Sam and Bucky, mostly Sam, proceeded to give Steve several pointers on ‘wooing.’ Dating in the modern world was very different from what he has seen in the wilderness, no mating dances or displays, but instead romantic gestures and gifts, quality time like date nights. He knew respect and communication were important, and to say the least, he was overwhelmed.

“Makes my chest ache–in good way. Just,” He huffs, “Want to go everywhere with her–do everything for her.”

Bucky raises a brow, metal fingers wrapped around a glass. The three of them are lounging on the roof, far away from any prying eyes or nosey spies. The sun is setting slowly, ghosting above the building tops and casting a yellow-orange glow.

“Have you told her that?”

“Don’t know how–already tried to dress up.”

Sam laughs loudly, “Oh, I remember that. Thought you’d have to cut your hair after it got stuck in the scrunchies. How did you manage to squeeze into one of her dresses?”

Steve shrugs, absentmindedly twirling the ends of his hair. He definitely didn’t want a haircut anytime soon, although his beard needed a trim soon. “Ripped it on accident, sunshine didn’t get mad. Just giggle… super cute giggles.”

Bucky and Sam share a long look, seemingly non-verbally conversing about the giant across from them on the plush outdoor patio couch. Sam tilts his head and in turn, Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Women today aren’t the same women as in the forties.”

“Which can be very helpful for our guy here,” Sam appealed, “Advice that worked on women back then and advice that works on women now–we’ll have him primped and polished.”

Bucky checks his watch, slumping, “I guess I could help–”

“--As if you have plans on a Tuesday night.” Sam scoffs playfully, already standing and clapping his hands, “Steve, you’ve got yourself the two most eligible bachelors of the city for all your questions and concerns of the heart.”

That’s how Steve ended up walking along the streets of New York, dipping in and out of various clothing stores, exiting with a new shopping bag and one new potential friend, the store employees and owners were very fond of the curious and blunt giant, most of them fell in love with his bright spirit and charming smile.

His wardrobe at the tower consisted of t-shirts and sweatshirts, mostly track pants or shorts–Steve didn’t wear many clothes when he was roaming around your shared floor. Hence, whenever he made public appearances, Tony had someone drop off carefully selected clothes for said occasion.

Steve inhales deeply, Sam’s words bouncing off the walls of his mind.

“Be confident, your posture is already perfect, you just need to accentuate that energy, and kill her with it.”

Steve’s eyes widened in horror, colour draining from his face, “kill?”

Bucky steps in, rubbing his hands down the blond’s shoulders, smoothening his leather jacket. “Not literally–nice going, Sam.” He murmurs, “You like her, Steve?”

It’s quiet for a few beats, the giant’s blue eyes falling to the bouquet in his hands, “Love her, Buck.”

The brunet smiles, “Right, you love her–”

“--so much–”

“Then, just let her know. She wants you for you–not some yuck-version of you. Be yourself, be honest, be a good listener.”

Steve hesitantly steps into the elevator, pressing the button for your shared floor. He gives Sam and Bucky a short wave.

“Call her a cute pet name!” Sam shouts as the doors close.

“Baby… Sweetheart…Doll … Lover.” Steve repeats every nickname he can think of, his foot anxiously tapping on the floor as the elevator ascends higher and higher. Finally, it dings before the doors slide open, revealing the clean but well-loved living room of your floor. The blankets on the couch are folded, pillows fluffed, but the coffee table is almost covered in all your documents and research papers. The familiar scent of your soap wafts to his nose as the faint music from the bathroom cuts.

“Steve? Is that you?”

“Lover… like that.”

Sam grins, “I don’t hear that one too often, but I think she’d like it.”

“Yes, lover!”

Your footsteps falter as you round the corner, a white robe tied around your waist as you spread moisturizer on your face. You raise a brow, “what did you say?”

“...yes, lover.” Steve is still standing in the elevator but quickly shuffles out as the doors begin to close. He tightens his fist around the bouquet, eyes glued on your bare skin. Trailing up your legs to the expanse of your chest, and finally your neck where a few marks were already healing.

Steve knows he’ll be replacing those with fresh ones tonight. He was counting on it.

“More flowers? The ones you got me yesterday are fine.”

The blond stiffens, “These for…uh…”

You smirk, “are you seeing another woman, Steve?”

“No! Never!” Steve exclaims, desperately shaking his head, “These for you–would never, ever be with other person.” He blinks profusely before gesturing to the couch. “Can—May we talk?”

You know what was coming, but you still keep your mouth shut. Nodding silently and walking to the couch, you pat the cushion next to you. As Steve steps closer, you can feel the waves of distress melting off him, constricting your throat. The bouquet, colourful and sweet, is placed on the cluttered coffee table before he plucks one of them, a yellow one.

Steve faces you, vulnerability behind his light eyes. With a touch as delicate as the morning clouds, he places the flower behind your ear.

When you place a hand on his thigh, Steve takes it and brings it to his lips. Closing his eyes as his lips press against the back of your hand, his facial hair scratching your knuckles, it’s a slow and strong kiss as if he’s trying to send his feelings straight through your bloodstream.

Steve doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He wasn’t going to tell a wild lie, or break your heart–he’d never do that.

But, love. What was love?

Universal in every form–love began at the list of fundamental human necessities, through complex twists and shades of a million colours, the four-letter word was not simple in the slightest. A blessing and a curse of humanity and compassion. With a camouflaging ability to be bare and shrouded at the same time, being true to one and being unknown to their lover. Although, as pure as it is, love can be tainted by people.

Jealously, begging and pleading, unfair and unjust. Much too strong or much too little, love is beautiful.

Among the different forms of it, complete love included intimacy, passion and commitment.

Steve knew love as actions, things he’s seen with his own two eyes, but feeling love was entirely different. Something so personal and dear, buried within his heart and soul, Steve didn’t know how to define such an intense impression.

“Feelings… are strange.” He begins, mumbling against your skin before setting your palm on his chest, you can feel the faint thumps of his heart. “Feeling something—is so different from speaking. Wish was other way to describe what I feel here.”

You meet his gaze, giving an encouraging nod. “I know what you mean.”

His brows knit tightly, “but want to tell you how I feel…through words.”

It’s incredibly difficult to explain to anyone else–but so clear inside. Indecipherable yet easy.

“Want you around all the time–hate when apart. When together, feel happy—so happy, comfortable,” loved, “with you.” Steve cradles your hand between his, occasionally squeezing your fingers, “My sweet, beautiful, kind, cute—so cute and tender, soft, sunshine… everything good inside you.” He shuffles closer, the emotion behind his eyes is spellbinding, “teach me so much—never get annoyed or mean when I can’t understand.” He knows that some people aren’t as kind when it comes to his lack of knowledge and experience.

“Not first to be kind or tender to me—but have always been, from the beginning, even when I hurt you.” He inhales sharply, leaning down to nuzzle your cheek, he whines lowly in his throat, “know I’m forgiven, but still hate that I hurt you.”

“Steve—”

“Promise to never do it again, will never harm, hurt you.” He interrupts, “Always be tender, sweet… because you deserve that.”

You laugh wetly, cupping his bearded cheek and sniffling, “You do too, Steve. Don’t forget that.”

“Won’t forget—promise that too.” He leans into your touch, eyes almost fluttering shut before they shoot open, he squints, “But, Sunshine promise too?”

You nod as a wave of adoration almost knocks you to the floor, but even if it did physically strike you, you know you wouldn’t fall, not with Steve pressed against you. The gentle giant, with a heart of gold and a set of diamond eyes that gleamed and glimmered with hope, a purity that was so precious.

Steve licks his lips, falling forward until your foreheads meet. He squeezes your hand once more and dips down until your noses touch. He hums happily, wide eyes staring into yours. “You’re so beautiful up close—uh, lover.”

A part of Steve wanted to climb inside you, because maybe then he’ll finally be content—there was no describing how close he wanted to be with you. He wanted to live within your heart, kiss your soul and bathe in your existence, but he couldn’t explain that with his lack of vocabulary. So, he says it differently and in a way he does fully understand.

“Colourful birds in jungle—macaws…like little rainbows with feathers and can fly. They have one love for entire life,” Steve’s cheeks are cherry red, his blue eyes so clear, you can almost see his spirit, “And want… I want that with you.”

If he closes his eyes, he can see the vibrant birds. Perched high in the trees, the wisps of nature surround him as they mutually groom and share food with each other. Similar to the other animals in the jungle, but those creatures didn’t mate with only one for their entire life. They weren’t like the birds.

The birds that wake up every morning and check their mate for any concerns, they didn't groom them or solely share food with them. He knows those actions stemmed from something inside, deep within them. To have one for a lifetime.

“Please speak… feel so many nerves now…” he whispers, brushing his nose along the side of your face, a quiet whine coming from his throat. “Please—”

He’s cut off by your lips crashing against his, trying to convey every emotion. You cradle his face between your hands as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Steve loves you—the glorious man with a brilliant will. A dream in every sense of his being, a disadvantaged soul who has blossomed into a lively flower. A strong stem with the ability to withstand almost anything, physical and mental obstacles included. The petals vary because they’re coloured with his qualities—some are more than one shade to represent his change in characteristics, from a dull grey to a bright tint. And the pistil, it was blinding as if the sun had shrunk to size, although small, the radiated warmth wasn’t any different. Still beaming and sparkling before your eyes.

Steve pulls away with a wet smack, lips a little swollen, “Take that as same feelings?”

You’re engulfed in his glow, soaked to the core with Steve–this was the kind of intensity you’ve only fantasized of. Yet, it’s right before you, he’s right in front of you and inches from your face. With the most adorable grin and doing his signature head tilt.

You manage a nod before Steve is hauling you up and dashing to the bedroom. As you’re placed on the bed, the springs squeaking beneath you, he’s climbing on top of you again. Too lost in his touch, you don’t realize what’s happening until a sharp tear bounces off the walls.

Steve’s face flushes, “ah, oops…” He offers you a crooked smile, still clenching the loose threads of your robe, “not patient enough to untie.”

Then, you notice he’s also naked. His leather jacket flung across the room, as well as the rest of his clothes. His hair was slightly tousled and falling in front of his face. One of his hands reaches down, wrapping around his hard cock.

It didn’t take a genius to know what was on his mind.

“Are you sure about this?”

The giant grunts, his other hand gripping your leg and shuffling between your thighs.

You reach out and grab his chin, forcing his eyes to yours. “Are you sure about this, Steve?” The intense passion swimming in his eyes is answer enough, but you want to hear him say it.

“Yes, so much—made sure to pay attention to specialists, want to do it with you. Feel close to you, and feel you on me… be inside you.” He dips down to mouth at your exposed chest, trailing up to your neck and biting on a fading mark. “Please, let me inside?”

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat as the head rubs your clit, spreading your arousal before brushing your hole. He’s gotten close to slipping inside more than a few times, but this would be intentional. And you were ready.

“Y-Yes, Steve—” You gasp as he immediately starts pushing in. The mushroom tip is unable to breach your tightness, even with your excitement dripping out.

“Should open you up first–” He starts pulling away, fisting his cock again as the thick head bobs against his abs.

“No, no,” you desperately shake your head, your heart pumping against your ribs, “please, don’t stop. I want–ah!”

Steve has a finger shoved inside your hole, curling until he feels that rough patch. A dribble of spit lands on your pussy as he glares down at you, “Specialist said to make sure you’re comfortable–”

“I am, fuck, I just want you inside me, baby. Please.” Your voice trembles slightly, eyes watering as he pumps another long digit into you. Your hips rise off the bed as he pulls them out, messily rubbing your clit.

“Say it again.”

“Please, baby, I love you–I want your cock–ah, inside me. Know you want it too, your cock is leaking–” He moves so fast, hooking your knees over his elbows and his length sliding between your folds until the head pops in. He doesn’t pause for a moment and continues penetrating your soaking sore, causing you to squeak loudly.

He groans, eyes shut as his shoulders shudder. The feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, choking his thickness and he isn’t even halfway. The last string snaps and he bites into your neck, muffling his helpless moans.

You have zero clue what’s happening as he begins pumping in and out of you, each time, getting deeper. The juices spilling from your pussy soaking the sheets, nearly dripping down his balls with every thrust.

“So wet—tight.” Steve grits his teeth, gaze bouncing between your blissed-out face and your little hole struggling to take his girth. He spits down on your connected centres, using his fingers to spread your combined wetness down the rest of his cock.

He’s so big, it burns, but you want more.

“All the way, baby, please.” You cry out, legs flailing before he grips them, pinning them to the mattress.

He continues working into you, stuttering groans filling the room and harmonizing with your whines. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders as he braces himself on either side of your head, his breath fanning across your cheeks. As he draws deeper, the base of his cock meeting your cunt, his pubic hair touches your tingling clit.

The euphoria is evident on his face, completely taken with the short amount of time. He whimpers as he pulls out almost all the way, the heavy tip rests inside your cunt before he goes forward again. “Want to last long but can’t—feels so good.”

You hiccup a, yes, digging your nails into his broad shoulders as the pressure builds within your stomach. His veins brushing against your throbbing walls, the stretch of your thighs similar to the stretch of your hole, burning.

Steve’s eyes fall to your heaving chest and down to your tummy, his pace quickening as the wet slapping sounds increase. He growls as you clench, his cock reaching the deepest part inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your bloodstream.

“Can see myself, baby.” Steve groans, alternating between thorough grinds and deep thrusts, watching the bulge appear under your skin. “So little—small, but taking me so well.”

A warm hand lands on your lower tummy, pushing down as your thighs tense, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer. He gets rougher too–just as eager as the headboard bangs against the wall. Every pound of his hips sends your juices spilling, a creamy ring appearing at the fat base of his shaft.

He wipes the drool from your lips, bringing it to your nipple and pinching the nub. “Can be more gentle, but love you–love seeing me inside you. Seeing you stretched–it hurts?”

You shake your head, vision blurring. He kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and swallowing each of your cries. His hands grip your shoulders as he pulls away, keeping you firmly locked on his cock, forcing you to meet each of his thrusts.

“Want me to be gentle?”

You shake your head again, eyes fluttering open. You watch his girth slam into you, a redness blooming on his skin, as your little pussy takes everything he has to offer.

“Can finally cum inside you–instead of just on.” He growls, “Want that? Be filled with me, only me. Can watch it spill out too, claim from inside.”

Your high topples over, stretching your mind paper-thin, his name written on the page.

Steve’s jaw drops as you convulse around him, squeezing him so tightly he whines. You squirt, soaking him with your mess. His cum painting your walls white, flooding you from the inside out. He grinds against you, his pelvis rubbing your pulsating clit raw. Every dirty motion shoves his seed deeper, the tip of his spurting cock kissing your cervix.

“Know about this…” He trails off, fingers delicately tracing through your wetness that soaked his thighs and the bed. “Love it, baby, so much.”

The laugh you let out is quite pathetic, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with Steve flattening you to the mattress, covering you in his warmth–as you’re also filled with his cum.

You try to move, your thighs aching. “You have to–ah, let go of me.” You yawn, and lightly tap his back, your digits trailing down his spine.

The giant grumbles, shifting around and you think he’s finally going to release you, but no. Steve slips his arms under you and rolls over as you start fading away into unconsciousness. The last thing you hear is him getting up, mentioning getting sunshine all clean.

“Wake up… please.”

You flip over, squinting at the harsh sunlight. “Hm?”

Steve is facing you, a blanket barely covering his muscular form. He smiles, hair messy and eyes soft. “Sex again?”

You giggle sleepily as he crawls over you, nuzzling your neck and nipping your cheek. He kisses you gently, fingers tracing down your body. “I almost forgot you barely need rest.”

“You okay? Good sleep?”

“Best sleep.”

He pulls away, thick lashes brushing his cheekbones, “...can experience you again? Before work, please?”

You lace your fingers in his long hair, lightly tugging. His eyes fall shut as his hips sink between your thighs, bare as you, he slowly grinds. “Take me however you please, baby.”

You peek from the corner of your eye at the giant who was still staring at you, his clear blue gaze searing into your skull, you honestly think he could read your thoughts. Although, you know if he did, he wouldn’t be staring at you in the first place.

“Angry?”

“No, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, he averts his gaze to his little notepad, pencil still in hand. “...upset?”

You sigh, “Why would I be upset over a barista?”

There’s a long pause, “Flirting?”

“She wasn’t flirting with you, she was just asking if you wanted whipped cream on your drink.”

Steve was still getting the hang of certain mannerisms, and apparently, everything that was remotely kind was classified as flirting in his eyes.

Especially when it was towards you. You can still remember the terrified face of the mail carrier who had complimented the array of plants on your windowsill in your office, Steve happened to be on a break between his classes and saw the whole thing. The poor mail carrier had dashed out the door after Steve growled and scowled like a wild animal, establishing his dominance by hovering like a shadow, glaring them down until they tucked their tail between their legs and left.

It didn’t help that an intern who had occasionally flirted with you entered right after. Somehow, he didn’t notice the giant man in your office and proceeded to slyly chat you up with his eyes on his phone, texting away. Once his phone was away, he was met with the deadly gaze of a manbeast, jaw clenched as tightly as his fists.

The blood immediately draining from his face, the young man profusely apologized and excused himself. He shut the door but that didn’t stop Steve from thundering down the hall after him. You were racing after him, bumping into other scientists until ramming into his wide back, the elevator doors had saved the young intern momentarily.

Calming Steve down had been a mission itself, one that involved missing clothes, shut curtains and your office desk breaking. You were stuttering with warm cheeks while explaining the incident to Tony after he caught you disposing of your broken desk. Although, he made sure to order you a new, very sturdy one.

As if on cue, the intern walks in, his eyes bugging out of his head as he spots Steve, sitting next to you with a thick novel in his hands. Broad shoulders stretching the white henley, hair slightly touselled.

“Can help, boy?” The blond hisses, leaning towards you protectively.

The young man’s eyes flash between you and the documents in his hand. He slowly inches backward, “Dr. Banner wanted you to look over, uh, his recent physical test.”

“Oh, okay.” You stand but then you’re yanked down to Steve’s lap, a startled gasp escaping your lips.

“Give.” The giant holds out a hand expectantly, he grunts a quiet, “Thank you, boy.”

You hide your embarrassment–and sudden arousal–with the folder, holding it in front of your face as the intern lingers by the door.

“Can leave.”

“Dr. Banner also wanted to meet with the both of you in twenty minutes.”

As you review the results of Steve’s recent physical, the differences from the last one are stark. His weight has increased, probably from the change in his diet, from whole fruits to carbs, and his desire to try at least everything once.

You start squirming on his lap, his thick thigh tenses. “O-Okay, thank you.”

Steve inhales sharply, keeping his gaze locked on the intern until the door clicks shut. Then, he’s on you, flipping you around and plopping you on the desk, no definitive crack resonating through the room like last time. You noted to send Tony a fruit basket.

Steve’s face is buried in your neck, his beard roughly scratching you as he mouths at your skin. “Getting wet again…”

Your whine is muffled by his hand, vaguely reminding you of your first meeting in the jungle. Steve must remember it too, because he smiles, then nuzzles one half of your face, then switches to the other side.

“Smell good, sunshine…Love you.” His fingers trail up your skirt, pulling at the tights, “Taste before we go?” You gasp as the fabric is torn, from the crotch and down your legs until it’s a mangled mess on the floor.

A loud squeal escapes you as he latches onto your cunt, mouthing messily along your folds and suckling your nub. He groans against your wetness, his beard rubbing you raw.

Steve pulls back, wide eyes blinking. “Want you to squirt–again, please, like when we fucked.” You cover your face with your hands, thighs snapping shut but he prys them open, rough hands massaging your thighs, “again, please, love when you do it.”

You can’t deny him and it seems everyone also knows that because when you leave, they all give you knowing looks, the intern hiding behind his computer screen with the most startled expression. A contrast to Steve who was as smug as can be, your creamy mess still evident in his beard.

You were so kind, all the way from the beginning. Your good heart could outshine any flame, glow amongst the brightest smiles, just like right now. In the sea of grinning children and parents, their gleaming faces are nothing compared to the beam on your lips.

“Your family loved you, they weren’t perfect but no one is.”

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “You are.” His eyes are honest, blue.

You smile softly, “I have my flaws.”

“And they’re perfect to me…everything about you is perfect to me.”

You smiled so lovelily when he said that this morning, and as if history was repeating itself, you were smiling like that again. Except from halfway across the room as you lean on a bookshelf, listening to him read ‘Tarzan’ to the small circle of children.

The library walls are vibrant and the decorations are cohesive. The theme of a pond, painted trees on the walls and bookshelves, mushroom or flower painted table tops with little chairs at each.

The young children are completely immersed with the man in the comfy armchair. Steve flips the page, showing the colourful illustrations before reading the words, with just as much enthusiasm as he started the session with. Exaggerated facial expressions and giving each cartoon character their own voice. It’s crazy to think that just a few weeks ago he was repeating everything you said, learning different tones and pronunciation.

His eyes meet yours once again. Twinkling as they take in your gentle face.

You’ve been like this since he met you, and now that he knew you, he wanted you for the rest of his days.

After confessing your love for each other, Steve got more confident. Sexually, through his own initiations but also within himself through self-assurance. Mistakes have been made, they were unavoidable, but Steve always kept trying and that combined with your never-ending encouragement, has led to now. From struggling to read the letters from his parents, to reading with an animated voice to young children.

“Want to read, but will ask if don’t know. Want to try.” He exhales, determinedly glaring at the papers in his hands. “Will help, right?” After you nod, he begins the first one, dated a few weeks after his birth.

He quietly reads next to you and pauses to ask for help. Blinking down at you as his nose turned red, lips quivering.

‘We never want you to think that we don’t love you’ they say multiple times in the letters, they call him their angel, sweet boy, their baby. You watch Steve tear up as faded memories rush back, consisting of faces he couldn’t remember.

‘You love the animals and playing in the water,’ is printed in faint cursive, ‘I always told your father there was nothing bluer than your eyes–not even the crystal waterfall.’

There were many letters, and as the final sheet is pinched between his fingers, he pulls you onto his lap. Burying his face into the crook of your neck and kissing the skin.

“Am so sad–but don’t remember them. Barely remember faces…” He rubs his nose under your ear, “Wish they were there, have so much to tell them.”

‘The world is beautiful, my angel. As are animals and nature, all things are–and always will be–naturally beautiful. Although the effortless vision, be wary of those who choose to make the world a dangerous place.’

“Think I understand that…” Steve sniffles. “Not only good in the world–but doesn’t mean world bad–people can be good or bad. Just have to find the good, tender.” And be good and tender. “I found my good.” He says against your shoulder.

Steve succeeds and reads them all, with you hovering closely for help. It’s quite often, but you’re immensely proud of him. With a comforting hand on his back, rubbing slow circles as you listen to his deep drawl.

The sheet flutters to the coffee table, lying in the bed of tissues. And Steve breathes shakily, wrapping a blanket around the both of you before sinking into the couch. He’s snug between your thighs, the side of his face pressed against your bare tummy. He kisses the softness, possessively gripping your hip with his hand. “Want you for life. To the end–and whatever comes next.”

You clap with the rest of the crowd as Steve ends the book, setting it into his lap with a grin. Avidly asking the children what part was their favourite, beginning the energetic conversation that they all look forward to.

“How is he adjusting?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, wide eyes meeting James’ as he leans on the bookshelf across from you.

He cocks a brow, “are you all right?”

“I’d be perfectly fine if you didn’t sneak up on me like that.” You huff.

“I’m here for my nephew and I’ve been standing here the entire time, but you were too lost in him again.” James notes, “seems like he has that effect on people wherever he goes, hm?”

You sigh, about to speak but cut off by loud giggles. The children have all scooted closer to Steve as he flips through the picture book, excitedly pointing at the illustrations. Various colourful drawings of the jungle and wild animals, Tarzan’s adventures that almost mirror Steve’s life.

“Does he miss it? I can’t imagine the culture shock.” James asks quietly, following your gaze, “All of the unfamiliarity–the sudden wave of new. He seems fine but… you know, never mind.” The dark-haired man lifts his arm, revealing a tiny purple coat, “I’m glad he has you. He’s very lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one.” You glance at him.

James smiles as a young boy stumbles closer, he steps forward to scoop him off the ground and turns to you again. “Always the sweetheart, aren’t you? That’s what I adore most about you. Perhaps the both of you are lucky, then.”

All of the children reluctantly leave with their parents, enthusiastic farewells and waves to Steve, who happily returns each and every one of them.

The giant frowns, eyes following James as he waltzes away. He grumbles, “Flirting?”

You blink and shrug, “I actually don’t know.”

He makes a disgruntled noise, murmuring to himself, you only catch a few words, steal, fight, and mine. “Ugh, what he thinks he’s doing…”

“It doesn’t matter what he was doing because I don’t care. He is not one of my concerns and I’ll never go—”

“—steal, he can steal you—”

“—no, he won’t. Never.” You pinch his cheek, “do you know why?”

Steve blushes, “because love me?”

You grin, going on your tippy-toes and pulling him down for a quick peck, “that’s right, baby.” You release his face to grab his hand, about to head towards the exit doors, but he pulls you back. A startled squeal escapes you as you crash into his firm chest, his arms wrapping around you instantly.

“Why not say it—want you to say it, please?”

You turn in his hold, cupping his jaw and bringing him down to your height, “I love you, Steve. I love you so much.”

The blond chirps happily and affectionately nuzzle your face. He kisses your nose. “I love you—more than reading.”

Once you’re in the comfort of your home, you change into cozy clothes while Steve strips down to his underwear. He sits on the couch and pulls you to his lap, mouthing along your neck softly, as not to intentionally lead to anything—although he wouldn’t be opposed to it—but just a simple action to feel closer to you.

The television plays in the background to your thoughts as James’ words sink in. Of course, you’ve considered that before, but hearing it spoke those static concerns into fruition.

Poor Steve, the sinking feeling goes straight to your heart, tugging the strings in all sorts of directions and spelling out your guilt.

“FRIDAY, where’s Steve?”

“In his studio, Dr. L/N.”

As you step into the room, your jaw drops. There’s paint everywhere. Dark blue and black on the glass ceiling, there’s some deep green too, and it drips down. It’s also all over the walls, and floor, and most importantly, covering the blond man standing in the middle of it.

“Steve!”

The giant jumps, paintbrush clattering to the ground as green spills onto his feet. A half-painted tree on the sunroof, next to bright white spots.

“What are you doing? Tony said no paint on the glass.”

There are streaks of paint on his face too. “...but sky…”

You gape at the once clear ceiling that projects anything–that did project anything.

Steve looks like a kicked puppy, with furrows brows and a pout. “City sky… can’t see stars–hate that can’t see stars. Miss home lately.” He confesses in a small voice, looking down at his black and blue hands. “Always slept under the stars… talked to the stars… when I don’t see it, I feel sad.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Steve wipes your tears. His face twisting in confusion and worry, “what’s wrong?”

Every time you blink, you can see his home and his friends, Wendy, Peter and Tinkerbell. When your eyes are closed, you’re transported to that blissful heaven in the jungle with Steve, the man who smacked oranges out of your hand and carried you everywhere, the giant who risked his life for you.

Then you open your eyes and are flung back to reality. In the city that never sleeps, a playground bustling with energy and technology. Steve is still there and he hasn’t changed, except for the altered mannerisms for the modern world and widely expanded vocabulary and knowledge. But there’s a sadness in his eyes, you can’t tell if it’s a reflection of your own regret.

“What’s wrong?” He repeats with a deep frown.

You hiccup as he rubs under your eye, brushing away the tears. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“For what?”

“I—We took you away.”

Steve tilts his head, bare chest rising and falling with each breath. The seconds bleed into minutes and soon enough, you’re lying on your back with Steve hovering over you. His hair tickles your face as he kisses away your tears, the delicate presses of his pink lips sweeping away the blue.

“Can be sorry… but don’t need to be.” He murmurs against your cheek. From his perspective, meeting you and leaving the jungle was both a blessing and a burden.

Hopping on a plane and flying across the globe was overwhelming enough. As was discovering the truth of himself and his family, what lay in his very existence. The jungle was his first home, the place where he’s spent most of his life, discovering himself within the sky-high trees and sparkling clear waters, it’s also where he’s nearly died a few times. But the city was his second and current home, especially with you in the picture.

Simply put, he loves the jungle, he loves the city and he loves you.

The city came with so many great things and introductions to opportunities and new experiences he’s been graced with. He’s made many new friends, like Sam, Bucky, and Tony, people with who he can communicate, people who are just like him. And the food was an enormous advantage too, no more fruits and bugs, rather meals stemmed from different cultures all around the world.

And the world—the world was huge, and there was so much to explore, so much he would have missed out on if he stayed in the jungle.

The blond sprinkles kisses from your forehead to your chin, “World… world is wonderful place, want to see every part of it.” He murmurs, brushing a hand on your neck, “Wouldn’t get to do that if never met you–or never left.”

Steve is just as beautiful as he was when you first met him. His chest heaving slightly, a faint sheen of sweat covering his skin. His hair is wet too, just like yours since you did a spontaneous jump off the waterfall a few minutes ago.

He seems more relaxed to be back in his element, the jungle. You squeak as he pulls you on top of him, your naked skin sticking to each other.

“Stars–missed them so much.” He has a blissful expression on his face from the sparkling in the sky. One of his hands falls to your ass, cupping the flesh firmly. “Can smell you getting wet.”

“Technically, I am wet. It’s from the water.” You gesture to the rushing falls behind you, still as clear as your first visit to the island, but a little scary considering how dark it was outside.

“So happy Peter and Wendy liked gifts–Wendy looks cute in clothes…”

You hum, silently thanking Tony’s marvellous mind for bringing you all back here again. He proposed a little project last month after the paint incident. Stark Industries to operate a reserve for the island, protecting it under the law with big and nasty–his words–lawyers to ensure no one harms the wildlife or resources.

“My lawyers won’t fail to jail anyone who messes with the manbeasts island, and that’s a promise. We’re securing the island from anyone who doesn’t have explicit permission, creating a safety bubble of sorts, who knows, maybe you’ll live there once day, doc.”

You’ll never forget the way Steve’s eyes lit up at the mention of going back to the jungle.

“Always saw the stars when I slept here. Love seeing them again!” He exclaims, flipping you over to pin you against the blanket. Back at camp, your little shared cot is stripped bare–just like the two of you. Steve wiggles between your thighs with a smirk. “Want to know a secret?”

You hum, half amused. “I think I already know what you’re going to say.”

The moonlight caresses his features, “Didn’t know much about sex when we were here the first time, but want to have you now. Here, under the stars… my homeland.”

“You’re going to take me right here in the wild like an animal?”

“Mhm… know you’ll like it, sunshine.” Steve grins madly, “Also know you wanted me when we met–smelt you then.”

You go to shove his shoulder, but he grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles, nibbling on each of your fingers before pressing his lips to your palm. “So little compared to me…” He mumbles, trailing down your arm to your elbow, each movement sinks him closer.

Your eyes fall shut as he kisses across your chest, to your neck, murmuring about your smell and taste.

“Moon loves you.”

“Hm?”

“Moon must love you.”

You shiver as his hands massage your thighs. “How do you know that?”

“Love makes people glow… and you’re glowing now.” He preens as your fingers knot in his hair, eventually cupping his bearded face. “Or, maybe that’s because you’re sunshine… but also don’t think I’m making sense right now…”

The laugh you let out is pure glee as you yank him down, your lips colliding in a slow kiss. His hard, big body presses against yours, his facial hair tickling your face, causing you to giggle again.

“Mhm–stop it, trying to kiss you, not your teeth.” Steve grunts, laughing too. He pulls away with a grumble, “trying to be romantic, why you’re so giggly?”

“I’m happy.” And, so, deeply, mindlessly, in love.

“I’m happy too.” The giant softens, “haven’t been this happy in jungle before… feels good to be back with you.”

It does feel good, it feels great, phenomenal.

Your journey, although it was completely out of your control, started on this very island, a few miles North. You suppose it only makes sense for a chapter to conclude back at the beginning.

Looking at Steve, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, thick lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, you can see the faint red of his skin under the moonlight.

Looking at you, Steve remembers you saying there was no magic in your world–but you’re wrong. Because how else would he end up where he is, with you under him, a giggly and beautiful mess. How could everything fall into perfect place without magic?

Yeah, you both decide.

You both definitely want the other as a staple in your next adventure, making it a shared one. And hopefully the one after that, and after that. All the way to the end.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I never thought i’d actually end a story with ‘the end.’ As stated at the beginning, this part will be revisited tomorrow and over the weekend (for editing and adding parts, probably making the smut longer and putting more dialogue, so the word count will increase too).

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! My new series has been posted, it’s a role reversal of this lovely work with feral!reader — 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞

Thank you everyone who has supported me since I started this series, you've all made me so happy, and I'll never be able to thank you enough. I hope you all enjoyed. I'm always open for feedback/your thoughts !

follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.

[nostxlgia18]

Bittersweet

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Steve Rogers × Wife! Reader

Summary: Steve is heartbroken by something he didn't think would happen to him ever and is determined to be rude to you.

Warning: Angstyy, jealousy, heartbreak, talks of cheating.

Steve's POV

Someone had anonymously sent Steve a slightly blurry photo of Y/n and Loki kissing outside the mall, and he couldn't believe his eyes. How was that possible when you'd explicitly stated that you were going shopping with your sister for her home decor? His mind couldn't comprehend you cheating on him with Loki if this was the case. He's gone on so many missions leaving you at home alone, but never imagined you'd cheat on him. 

He didn't have the courage to confront you about it. He just couldn't. All happy memories from your time spent together flashed before his eyes.

The heartache was too much for him to handle,  he decided to take Dodger for a walk to distract himself. As he was making the dog wear his leash; you walked in, "Ohh you're taking him out? Good. Well, I've called everyone for dinner tonight, just wanted to inform you. Is it okay?"  as innocent as ever, your voice. Steve said, "Yess, it's alright." Hearing the phone ring in the kitchen you ran to answer it, Steve was following you there to get a bottle of water when he heard your hushed voice "Hey!". "Is he out?" immediately recognising the person on the other side, he left the hallway and ran out of the house with Dodger, not wanting to hear any more of it. 

The day went in a blue, Steve locked himself in his study while you were excitedly cooking meals for everyone. His head filled with nothing but anger, he didn't deserve any of this. He has loved you with all his heart, made sure you were happy always and this is how you repay him. He will not accept such disrespect. Steve made sure to give you a taste of your own medicine, by being a jerk to you all evening, noticing all the glances and touches between you and Loki boiled his anger to a new level and things got heated on the dinner table.

He said very mean things to you, which he didn't believe a bit but he had to make you feel how sad and angry he was. Watching you cry and leave the table broke his heart, and before stupid Loki followed you back he ran behind you, leaving all the other members on the table stunned as to what did just happen.

Ps: I know this chapter is short, but mores coming up!! 🤑

Masterlist

Taglist: @shyconversationalbookworm @justreadingthatsit @rogersdrysdalebarber @sleutherclaw @sophiaedits @kalopsia-flaneur @thedancingnerdmermaid @foxchild-v @blossomedfloweroflove @jessyballet @aubageddon91 @witchychanel @the-soot-sprite @delicatecapnerd @darkjellyfishcoffee

Reblogs are appreciated 💛

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

To Raise Children: Chapter 4

Chris Evans X Daughter!Reader, Grandpa!Chris Evans X Flynn and Felix Evans (OCs) Tom Holland X Single-Mom!Reader (Slow Burn)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: It's been 4 years, your sons are starting kindergarten, you're starting junior year of college, a lot has changed.

Chapter Summary: You spend some quality time with the twins.

Series Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 20, Tom is 29), absent father, mentions teen pregnancy, mentions abortion, if you see anymore please let me know politely.

Chapter Warnings:

Sequel to "It Takes A village"

You were off of work today so you could spend some quality time with the boys. You walked into the school. You signed them out before going to their classroom to pick them up.

"Mommy!" Felix exclaimed running over. Flynn followed his brother both of them giving you a big hug.

"Hey sweets." You smiled hugging them. You felt the strange looks the other parents were giving you. You were used to it though, seeing as you've gotten the strange looks since they started talking. Before that everyone assumed you were their sister or babysitter. Now it's obviously your not since they call you mom. Though you still get asked if your their nanny or sister or aunt.

"We decorated name tags for our cubbies!" Flynn told you as you took their hands to walk them to the car.

"That is awesome!" You smiled.

"Mine is blue and purple! It has dino stickers and they had spiderman stickers and! I put a kitty sticker on it too then I drew dodger!" Felix told you excitedly. You listened contently hoping they never grow out of this.

"I only put dinosaurs on mine. A lot of dinosaurs!" Flynn told you hoping around as you walked out of the school.

"Really? Your gonna have to show these to me soon!" You told them. "Bye Mrs Gray." You smiled at the receptionist.

"Bye Mrs gray!" Your sons said in sync as they waved with their free hands.

"Bye kiddos! Bye Y/n!"

"So I have the day off so anything you want we can do!"

"Park!"

"McDonalds!"

"So Mcdonald picnic at the park?"

"Yeah!" They said happily.

"Okay get in the car."

"Can I try to buckle myself in?" Felix asked climbing in.

"Ooh I want to try too!" Flynn said.

"Okay go ahead." You nodded as you tossed their bookbags into the passenger seat.

———

"Boys you get any homework?" You asked walking into yours dad's house.

"I think so." Flynn said shrugged before the twins ran off. You chuckled shaking your head sighing.

"Hey sweetie." Chris smiled when you walked into the kitchen. "How was your day?" He asked as he made a sandwich.

"It was great." You smiled.

"That's good. Oh guess what! Holland is filming a move near by! So I invited him and Harry to dinner tomorrow night!"

"Oh cool." You nodded.

"So who gets to tell Felix that Spider-man is coming to dinner?" Chris asked smiling.

"You can."

Taglist: @fic-for-readers @denisemarieangelina @shadow-dixon @thevelvetseries @kaitieskidmore1 @ellerosie2332 @tahniemarie @runawayolives @marajillana @buckybarnez @positivelyholland @coldmuffinpartycloud @beautifulrose0809 @believinghurts @laura-naruto-fan1998 @shadow-dixon @claaaaaaire-blog @mrs-brekker15 @h-j-s-03 @moniffazictress11 @buxkybarnesy @ducks118 @kalopsia-flaneur @silverrmist @some-lovely-day @peterparkerbae @Olivia197810 @gengen64 @firehoseevan