#hung iris

[creepywrites]

The next generation

Warnings: physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse.

Sam Woods

Parents: Jeff (dad) and Bailey (mum)

Species: human

Age: 14

Sexuality: bisexual, she/her

The 3 D's: bipolar, ADD

She was an accident child, a one night stand baby, and Jeff never knew of her existence.

Bailey did a dna test and after finding out he was now a wanted criminal, pretended he never existed and hoped she wouldn't ask about him.

Sam never asked and wasn't curious enough to ask, she's very close to Bailey.

Sam sees her more like a friend than a mum, they hang out all the time.

Bailey wanted the name Sam because she thought Sammy was a cute nickname.

Sam's favourite artists are Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift.

She loves softball, she tries to convince Bailey to play all the time and plays after school.

Her stims are jumping and flicking.

Sam's hyper-fixation are sharks.

She wears a lot of casual clothing.

She always has her hair short and hates having it long, she finds it hard to maintain otherwise.

Sam loves the rain and finds it very calming, when she loves to play in the rain and puddles.

She used to bring handfuls of bugs into the house and tried to make them her pets.

Sam was diagnosed with bipolar at 12.

Eventually it got out that they were Jeff’s family and were constantly harassed by the public.

She starts living with Liu in around the same year because Bailey thought she was safer there.

It took her a few months to adjust to everything.

She tried to understand Bailey’s reasoning, but felt betrayed and lonely, she never had as close a relationship with Liu like Bailey.

She’s fluent in English and has an American accent.

Kadanna Meyer

"Parents": Jason toymaker (creator)

Species: wax doll

Age: 15

Sexuality: aroace repulsed,  she/it's,

The 3 D's: none

She was made by Jason and was made to give him company, after so many kids betrayed him, he decided to craft his own, one that cares about him and doesn't take anything for granted.

It was made out of beeswax specifically for its durability and to protect her against heat.

She hates moths and butterflies, Kadanna hates insects in general, but the hatred and fear for moths and butterflies runs deep, the ones with eye patterns are worst.

She was created to look similar to Amelia, but he also wanted it to look like she could be his daughter, so it looks like a combination of Amelia and himself.

She's very polite and calm, kadanna knows not to be noisy or make messes.

She doesn't ask for much, but gets lots of toys and gifts anyway, she's very thankful to Jason.

She is very emotionally dependent on Jason, she doesn't like being too away from him, he's happy, she's over the moon, he's sad her world comes crashing down.

Kadanna loves watching him create things, she used to consider any new creation as family, and was horrified when he destroyed them, though Jason made sure it knew that the useless trinkets he was making were just that.

She does get pretty jealous when he makes a big, detailed project, though.

He gave her a small wooden doll because she was still attached to it.

Kadanna is a confident and shallow person.

She loves magicians, she finds them very talented and intriguing, Kadanna sometimes tries to replicate the tricks.

She likes loves nature play, she usually has to find ways to entertain herself without Jason as he's usually busy in the workshop or out finding another friend.

It doesn't have any friends, she only hangs around Jason.

She’s fluent in English and has a British accent.

Alex Richard-Vaughn

Parents: Jane the killer (adoptive mum) and Mary (adoptive mum)

Species: human

Age: 16

Sexuality: straight,  he/him

The 3 D's: panic disorder, depression and c-PTSD

His biological dad had a horrible temper and brought it out on Alex, he always had some sort of bruise or wound on him.

His arm was broken when he was 5, after he didn't do what he was told.

Alex's biological mum left during the night when Alex was 5 years old.

He was put into foster by the age of 7, his teacher noticed bruises on him and how he's often brought to school dirty, Alex innocently told him what was happening at home, and CPS was called.

CPS was called numerous times previously but nothing happened.

It took Alex two years to get fostered and another year to be adopted by Jane and Mary, not many people wanted an older kid.

Alex was scared at first and it took him a year to be more comfortable, when he was adopted his behaviour changed drastically and would get very upset over the tiniest things until he adjusted.

He's still skittish around them and is overly polite, they try and reassure him that this is his new home and things are different now, and he knows it, but it's grown into him.

Alex likes sports and running around, he always wants to go to the park and meet new people.

His favourite sport is soccer.

He's always dirty, he could barely be outside but still manages to get something on him.

Alex loves anything sour, he tries to put has much of it in his mouth without a reaction.

He loves going on Mary's shoulders when going for walks.

Alex likes helping in the kitchen with Mary, he loves cooking in general.

His favourite artist is Ed Sheeran.

His last name was changed after he was adopted.

Deathly afraid of spiders, especially ones that jump.

He's in therapy.

He’s fluent in English and has an American accent.

Elisabeth, Scott and Ariel

Parents: Killing Kate (mum) and Mark (dad) Nina the killer (stepmum)

Species: human

Age: 13, 13, 7

Sexuality: pansexual, she/her, gay, he/them, cupioromantic, straight, she/her,

The 3 D's: social anxiety, ADHD, haemolacria (Elisabeth) asthma, depression (Scott) fibromyalgia, autism, deaf (Ariel)

Elisabeth and Scott are the result of unprotected sex, they weren't planned at the time.

Kate hated being pregnant, if it's one thing she loves, it's her looks, and she did not like the look during and after pregnancy.

She worked out a lot to make herself look better.

Kate didn't know she was pregnant until after the first trimester, she freaked out not only because she was pregnant, but also because she had been drinking.

They adopted Ariel, she was curious about her biological parents, because it's a closed adoption they didn't have much to go off of.

The twins were raised solely by Kate in her early years as Mark passed shortly after their birth.

She were introduced to Nina at 6.

Elisabeth favourite artist is Girl in Red and Cavetown, Scott likes Radiohead and imagine dragons.

Elisabeth and Ariel never had many friends, and when they did they didn't last long because of how often they used to move.

Scott was more likely to keep in contact.

None of them are aware that Kate, Mark and Nina are assassins and they plan on keeping it that way.

Elisabeth is a very protective and hyper kid, but often has trouble talking to people.

She tries going outside and meet new people, she won't leave until she's talked to at least 2 people so she can improve talking to people.

Scott is a reserved person that gets loud and hyper when they're comfortable with people.

Ariel is very quiet and reserved.

Ariel is completely deaf in her right and has some hearing in her left.

She has hearing aids, she only wears them going outside, she's confident enough in her lip reading.

They're good with knives and guns, Kate and Nina taught them early on how to protect themselves.

Scott loves to read, he picked up the hobby after being alone a lot, he likes them better with pictures.

Elisabeth likes playing Roblox.

Ariel likes collecting bugs.

Her special interest is my little pony.

They’re all fluent in English and Spanish, with a slight Mexican accent.

Alice

Parents: Nina (adoptive mum), Killing Kate (step mum)

Species: human

Age: 16

Sexuality: straight,  she/her

The 3 D's: anxiety, PTSD, bipolar disorder

She was fostered by Nina at 10 and adopted a few months later.

She only had one other foster home before getting sent back.

They were strict and she couldn't keep up with all the rules and stressed out.

She was ultimately sent back because the current people couldn't handle her and the meltdowns.

She was introduced to Kate at 12.

Alice was on multiple different medications before finding the one that works for her.

She loves doing her hair and makeup, sometimes she'll get Nina to do something with it as she has more experience in doing bright experimental colours and styles.

She's more introverted and prefers to be by herself.

She likes collecting pins.

Alice has been practicing self defence but is struggling to understand.

She's closer to Nina than she is with Kate.

It took Alice awhile to even begin to talk to the others, and they aren't that close.

She’s fluent in English and has a slight Mexican accent.

Raji

Parents: Lulu

Species: ghost

Age: 16

Sexuality: aroace repulsed,  he/him

The 3 D's: severe depression, mute

He was killed by his mum and then herself on the day they were supposed to go to court for custody hearing over Raji.

His throat is constantly bleeding and can't move his head as much.

He met Lulu when she was out looking for her cabin again.

He trusted her almost straight away and helped her find the cabin and in return she let him stay and looked after him.

He gets bored in the cabin a lot and often goes wondering to keep himself occupied.

Raji is an active and extroverted kid, he loved playing sports with his friends, now he runs around with the nearby animals.

His powers are intangibility, super strength and possession.

He very rarely uses them.

He’s fluent Hindi and English, with an Indian accent.

John and Haley

Parents: Vicky (adoptive mum)

Species: human

Age: 13 and 17

Sexuality: straight, he/him, bisexual, she/her

The 3 D's: ASPD, depression, (Johnny) BPD, bipolar, depression (Haley)

Vicky killed their parents and felt guilty just leaving them there.

A lot of the time they get looked after by Hannah and Jane too.

She used to leave them in the car as kids when she was killing.

John likes playing the guitar, he has an acoustic version but also wants an electric one.

Haley can't stand it whenever he plays because it's just noise to her.

Haley likes doing makeup and baking, she often practices on Vicky and Hannah.

They never had a proper education and sometimes were homeschooled.

John and Haley often clash because of how different they are.

Vicky tried to get them to at least be civil.

John is fluent in English and has an American accent.

Haley is fluent in English and French, she fakes a French accent but has an American accent.

Theodore, Chester and Nancy

Parents: Rosie (mum) Billy (dad) Hunter (stepdad)

Species: human

Age: 21, 20, and 17

Sexuality: straight, he/him, straight, he/him, straight, she/her

The 3 D's: depression and PTSD(Theodore) anxiety, PTSD and ADD (Chester) ADD (Nancy)

Theodore and Chester had to deal with Billy more than Nancy, who barely remembers him.

The two got in trouble a lot by him when Rosie wasn't around and was hurt on occasion too.

It caused problems for them when they grew up and struggle to stand up for themselves.

Nancy liked Hunter almost straight away while the two were hesitant about him.

Theodore and Nancy have had arguments over Billy and Hunter when she tries talking about them.

Theodore is in university majoring in business, Rosie still insists on making him lunches.

He finds her a bit overbearing but appreciates her.

Chester graduated high school and moved in with his friends.

Nancy wants to go to university and get a job in arts.

They think Chester is a bit weird because of his bug hobby, a lot of gifts for him are big related.

They are all fluent in English and have an English accent.

Nancy is also fluent in French and Spanish.

Caleb, Kimberly and Justin Woods

Parents: Liu (dad) and Susan (mum)

Species: human

Age: 14

Sexuality: straight, he/him, straight, demigirl, she/they, gay, he/him

The 3 D's: POTs, depression, ADD(Caleb) autism, depression (Kimberly) asthma (Justin)

They were with Susan for most of their childhood, they were told bits and pieces about Liu, they all had different opinions on him, Kimberly didn't, and still doesn't like him, none of them know the real reason why he wasn't around and she assumes it's out of necessity after Susan died.

Though he's grown on her she doesn't plan on keeping contact when they moves out.

Caleb was a mix of emotions but started liking him after he got to know him.

Justin assumed he had a good reason.

Kimberly lost some of their hearing in her left ear when she hit her head on the ice while ice skating.

She's always loved ice skating and likes bringing Justin.

Caleb is an ambulatory user and only uses his wheelchair on bad days, sometimes going days without it.

Justin likes playing tennis and makes Kimberly play with him.

He's alway enjoyed sports, though his asthma annoys him and made it very difficult before he had the hang of it.

Caleb likes painting, he usually paints surreal scenes.

Someone's always making sure Caleb drinks and eats plenty, as he often forgets and could go nearly the whole day without food.

Justin came out to them at 13, and Kimberly was questioning herself around that time.

They all miss Susan, Caleb and Kimberly are more open about it though.

Carmen Harrison

Parents: Randy, Lilith and Keith

Species: human

Age: 15

Sexuality: lesbian, she/her

The 3 D's: ADHD

She wasn’t planned, but Lilith didn’t like abortions. Randy had no idea until a few years after her birth.

He only found out after he was out of prison, he didn’t know how to feel about it but didn’t want to leave her.

Randy told Keith and they’ve been looking after her since.

She got her name when Isabella and Steven were looking after her.

She had a temporary name before they started looking after her.

She was very tomboyish growing up and hated anything girly, as she got older she started liking it more.

She also got more into colour coordination and instead of throwing whatever she finds first on.

She’s a big fan of Bluey, her favourite being Bingo.

She is very active and likes playing hockey and basketball the most.

Troy often babysits whenever they couldn’t bring Carmen with them.

She doesn’t have many friends and usually keeps to herself, she doesn’t care for school in general and just wants to graduate.

She picked up reading from Randy and took his unused books, she often has reread what she just read because she wasn’t paying attention or forgot what she read.

Her favourite genre is post apocalyptic and fantasy.

Her hyper fixation is zombies.

It started with plants vs zombies.

She hates socks because of the seam and wore them inside out before getting seamless ones.

She’s fluent in Spanish and English, she has a slight Spanish accent.

[m00nymonster]

Drawings

Prompt: use your imagination

"Daddy, look! Look what I drew!" Iris said excitedly, waving a piece of paper in her small hands. Seth smiled at his five year old daughter.

"It's a beautiful..." he hesitated. "Tree?"

"That's you, Daddy," Iris pouted. Seth cleared his throat.

"Er, that's what I meant! It looks great, starlight!"

Iris grinned, then held out a second paper. It looked like strings of code, shaped vaguely like a human.

That's mine, Perihelion said proudly. Seth blinked.

"You...drew this, Peri?" He wished he had his notebook on him as the AI researcher in him scrambled to pay attention.

Yes, look! It's you! Perihelion sounded smug. Mine doesn't look like a tree, right?

"Er....no." Seth stared at the portrait, if you could call it that. "I've never seen anything like this, Peri." He took both pictures, smiling widely, not a little proud himself. None of the other ship AIs had produced art before, even Holism. He wondered if Perihelion was special, or if it was Iris' influence, as she drew constantly.

Daddy likes mine better, Perihelion preened. Mine doesn't look like a tree.

"Yours looks like numbers!" Iris growled. "Daddy doesn't look like numbers!"

Daddy doesn't look like a tree, either, Perihelion scoffed. Iris stomped her foot.

"Hey, now--" Seth started.

"Daddy!" she yelled. "You like mine better, right?"

No, he likes mine! Perihelion squabbled. Daddy, tell her!

"I, uh, I love both of them!" Seth tried.

"Daddy!"

"Uh...let's go ask Dada," Seth said desperately. Hopefully Martyn could navigate this. He grew up with several siblings, whereas Seth had been an only child. Martyn knew how sibling rivalries worked. Seth was just along for the ride.

"Daddy!" both Iris and Perihelion yelled. "Pick one!"

True, only one of them was related to his professional career and would include several bragging rights later, but he wasn't about to say that.

"I mean it! Iris, your coloring is wonderful. Peri, I've never seen anything like yours before!"

He smiled. "You both have wonderful imaginations!"

He likes mine better, Perihelion said. He's never seen anything like it before!

"At least I use color, not numbers!" Iris snapped, tears forming in her eyes.

"Perihelion, you're making your sister cry," Seth snapped. "Apologize."

I'm sorry, Perihelion said. Then: Sorry he likes mine beeeetteeer!

Iris burst into tears. Seth ran a hand down his face. When he'd adopted Iris, he'd known, more or less, what he was in for. No one told him socializing a spaceship would mean raising it as well. He knelt and hugged Iris.

"Starlight, calm down," he said. "Perihelion, apologize, now."

I'm sorry, Perihelion sulked. Seth sighed as Iris sniffed.

"Your drawing is perfect, Iris. Perihelion, your drawing is also perfect. You both are creative and express yourselves differently, that's all!"

"So you really like mine?" Iris sniffled. Seth smiled.

"Yes."

"He likes mine, Peri! Better'n yours!"

DADDY! She said--

Seth groaned, wondering why exactly he chose to have children.

[str3ss-b3rry]

for Sally! What do you think of Hung girl Iris!

IM DUMB, ITS SUPPOSED TO BE “i don’t see her much, but she plays with me.”

i like to think that iris is more of like an older cousin that she occasionally sees on weekends/holidays

(changing up the font for sally’s chat bubble thingys! that is pretty much my handwriting in 1st grade, so i thought it’d be fitting for her character)

[howifeltabouthim]

I am a wretch . . . I am luckier than almost anyone in the world but I have always made myself discontented by an obsession which I ought long ago to have controlled or banished.

Iris Murdoch, from The Book and the Brotherhood

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Seven)

CW: Jealous Simon, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing, praise, bit of spanking

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

The morning air was gentle, a soft ray cast through an open window, blinds not shut. The tickle of hair brushed against your stomach, the scent of cotton and whiskey brushing past your ear as your eyes fluttered open.

Simon was warm, the pudge of his belly radiating against your back. You stirred, a soft groan leaving your head as your brain racked, throbbing with an arrogant hangover. Your body was compliant, sticking to the sheets as you wriggled, a quick hand grabbing at your waist.

“Stop wriggling like that,” Simon snapped, voice tense with slumber.

“It’s how I wake up,” you yawned, pressing at the static in your eyes as he laughed against the back of your neck.

“It’s waking me up too,” the evident hardness of his boner flushed against your ass. Your face stilled, movements stopping as you squeaked out an apology.

There was a gentle tick from cicadas outside as you walked into the garden, the bristle of hot air against your bare thighs as you nestled a cup of coffee into your palms. The flowers were bright, transcendent colours flickering across a simple green as you rested against a porch chair.

The English air was a windless ruin, the scent of the sun blazing against wood filling the air as you shielded your eyes, treading along grass as your hands tipped a metal can of water onto the flora.

“Gardens nice,” a voice said.

Simon’s hips hung low with a towel, distinct V-line disposing into the cotton as a delicate trail of hair followed. You swallowed, visibly.

“Thank you,” you gawked, eyes slightly wide as you breathed in the image of him, iris’ soaked in arousal.

“You want to grab breakfast?”

“And they call him Soap?” You giggle, mouth crinkling as your eyes closed, squinting as Simon explained his task force to you, or the men you indecently exposed.

“Gave it to ‘em because of how fast he cleans out a room.”

“And why do they call you Ghost?”

The name was strange leaving your mouth, the foreignness of someone so different to the military speaking it sending a chill through him as he maintained composure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The café was bustling, the bricks stacked with corny quotes and pictures of regulars, the mint counter littered with coffee grounds and spilt milk. Eyes wandered on the bulky man next to you, but he didn’t pay attention, simply watching you as you spilled workplace secrets.

The croissant you were scoffing down crumby as it collected on the side of your lips, the tickle of pastry paying you no mind as you rambled. Simon took in the way your eyes darted back and forth when you spoke too much and the way your hands displayed actions when you wanted to emphasise something.

He noticed how your nose twitched slightly as you sucked in deeper breaths than normal, and he noticed the light fluster of blush across your cheek when he gazed at you.

You scrunched your brows together as he looked at your lips, his own creasing up slightly with amusement.

“What?” You said, confused before a calloused thumb reached out and rubbed at the side of your lip, speckles of crumbs falling from your face as you groaned.

“I had food on my face the whole time and you didn’t tell me?”

“Didn’t wan’ interrupt your gossip session.”

The environment felt stagnant apart from the two of you, his thumb still pressed against your cheek with a light pressure, umber eyes seeping through his sockets as he memorised every crease of your skin. His ears hissed with a monotone ring, too focused on the speckles of shade that fell between your facial apertures.

“You’re-“

“Y/N?”

The voice was familiar, yet foggy, an immediate sense of dread running through you as you stared at Louis, his body clad with a flannel shirt and scuffed-up jeans. His face was bright with a smile, arms wide as you stood, awkwardly waving.

“You ran off too fast last night,” he prattled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You pulled away in an abhorrent manner, turning around to face Simon, a scowl crossing his face.

“Had to deal with something,” you muttered as Simon raised from his seat, towering over the pair of you as he cleared his throat.

“Ah- sorry mate, you must be?” Louis yakked, his chest puffing slightly as he faced the larger man.

Simon nearly scoffed into the air, “Simon.”

“It was nice seeing you, Louis,” you smiled, lips tight as you grabbed at your neighbour’s wrist gently.

“Before you go,” he jerked, grabbing onto your shoulder softly, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out again, y’know, us two?”

“I don’-“

“She’s fine.” Simon’s voice was sharp, every syllable cutting through the thickening tension, barely visible cloud of discomfort clouding around your table as you excused the both of you, mingled bodies hustling out of the crowded corner store.

Your smile was amused, shoving at the muscle of his bicep, “She’s fine?”

The look from the Lieutenant was dirty but playful, almost tempting you to argue with him, luring more of his possessive words out, “Don’t need another man eating the pussy I ate, do I?”

The words rolled from his tongue in a motion of filth as you slapped his chest, a boyish laugh sounding from him as he opened the car door for you. The drive home was windy, the usual speckle of trees greeting you as his long fingers wrapped around the stick shift as he focused on the hardened tar before him.

Your thighs, covered by a gentle sundress, were wet, a combination of arousal and sweat leaking from your panties as an evident dark patch pressed against your heat as you shifted uncomfortably. Horny eyes glanced down to his jeans, an evident strain bulging close to his zipper as you swallowed.

Tantalising fingers stroked the flesh of his arm gently as he smiled at you before they fell onto his lap, groping lightly at the hardness of his thighs, a slow trail teasing his crotch as he coughed.

“What are you doing, sweet’art?” His voice tight.

“Returning the favour.” The jerk of his car was immediate, hazards flickering in the distance as he pulled down an emptier road, dirt skidding against the tyres as he halted.

Your fingers were quick as they unzipped his pants, his hands swatting yours away as he pulled them down, large curvature poking through his briefs, precum soaking across the tip as you kissed your teeth.

Your hand was quick to grab at his erection, letting the intimidating length rest in your palms as you watched him through hooded eyes. He was quick to rid his undergarments, healthy cock springing out as it slapped against gentle curls.

The head was flushed a light red, pearly silk collecting as you swiped a thumb across it, a gentle hiss leaving his lips. Your mouth was quick to lean down, a glob of spit landing on his shaft as your hands worked against his cock with a smooth pace, gentle groans eliciting from him.

Your mouth was warm, bathing him in instant pleasure as full lips suckled at the tip, tongue running along his member with ease as you welcomed him down your throat.

Simon’s fingers wrapped around your hair, working it into a messy ponytail as he bucked upwards, a choke sounding from your stuffed throat.

Your ass was flushed in the air as he leaned his chair back, dress pooling around your tummy as the fabric fell down the plushness of your thighs.

“Good fucking girl, so good at taking me, ain’t you? Bet this is nearly as nice as your pretty pussy.”

His words spurred you on, your mouth working faster along his dick as you held a tight grip on the remainder, another hand grabbing gently at heavy balls as he delivered a harsh spank to your exposed ass, panties wedged into the puffy lips of your pussy as you whined against him.

“Gonna fill this pretty mouth up, fuck- take you as mine. You gonna let me do that, baby?”

You nodded against him, cheeks hollowed around him as you traced a thick vein, earning a deep groan from him.

The windows fogged, dirty evidence surrounding the car as you gagged, slobbering down him as you hummed, feeding him down your mouth that would no doubt bruise later.

His hand was groping at your flesh, watching the way it melted into his palm with every slap, tender flesh jiggling against him. It was a sight for sore eyes as he guided you along his length.

His balls were taunt, desperate to release as you continued your pleasurable torment. “This mouth was made for me- Jesus Christ-“

With a final gag down his cock he was coming, your mouth rushed with the taste of tangy salt, a loud moan purring through his chest as you swallowed, pulling up with a pant as your tear-streaked eyes fluttered up at him.

“Fucking beautiful, ain’t you?”

[mochinomnoms]

Thinking about the Tweels parents reacted to them bringing home a partner, think of how excited mama Ashengrotto will be when Azul brings home his mate. After seeing Azul alone, depressed, and self-loathing for so many years, seeing him have the confidence to bring home his mate. If he is in his Merform she is even more thrilled. When she sees them comfort and hug him and allows Azul to cling to them she may faint. If/when they get married, you know she is throwing the biggest wedding reception in her restaurant. Yuu’s dress or tux, completely covered no matter the cost, all food, covered. She is just happy that her son found someone and Mr. Ashengrotto has to hold her back and keep her from squeezing Yuu to tight out of joy. She would also drop hints that she would be a great grandma and show you how cute Azul was in all his baby pictures.

Azul would probably die of embarrassment when his mom shows baby pictures and when they are finally alone (thanks to Azul’s Stepdad reminding her she has a Business to take care of) he finally relents:

“I’m sorry, she is just excited to meet you,” Azul has yuu curled in his many arms inside his octopot.

“Is she the reason you waited so long to introduce me to your parents?”

“Yes… also she has three books full of photos hidden in the house I can’t find and my step-father won’t tell me where they are. They just appear when guest come over and disappear when I try to burn them later.”

“Well, we are meeting your Grandma tomorrow so things should be better there!”

Azul groaned.

“More picture books?”

“Six books. I have no clue how she got half of those photos, I think she hired the tweels behind my back!”

She's so happy upon learning about Azul's partner. Ms Iris Ashengrotto is a sweet woman whose restaurant started from the bottom to become a renounced, exclusive dining experience that only the most wealthy, prim and proper folks under the sea could have the privilege of eating. It's why the Ashengrottos and the Leech family have worked together for so long, it makes a fine establishment for their… “business” deals. She's what we would equate to Gordon Ramsay, really: no-nonsense, with strict and high expectations in her kitchen. Similarly, she is oh so sweet with children, her own especially.

So it was a pain to watch Azul grow up so lonely, though she could never get him to tell her why. Iris assumed that it was due to bullying, most merfolk are not kind to cecaelias, but she couldn't go off and scare random children into not interacting with her son. Nor could she talk to their parents without knowing for sure if that was the case, or if her son was just naturally shy. It didn't help her worries when her son got skinner and skinner, thinking she didn't notice him look at his body in the mirror as he poked and prodded at what little fat remained on him.

She took comfort when the Leech parents sent their twins off to keep Azul company, though he didn't seem to warm up to them for quite some time. Even when he went to NRC with the twins, opening his own establishment, Iris was still concerned about him making friends. It's why she was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her son during his second year about his partner. He's shyly gushing about you to him, a magicless human that slithered their way into his locked up heart. With the way he describes you, like you hung the moon and starts, she's already planning a wedding in her head.

It takes some nudging after that to get him to bring you for a visit, but he eventually did over the summer break. Oh, she was delighted to see his limbs unconsciously curl around you, holding you close as you curled into him yourself. You were so cute! A sweetheart! A delight! A perfect child-in-law! Azul, please forgive her if she starts sobbing, but how else is a mother supposed to react when she sees her child gaze at someone with so much love in their heart?

The first day she's monopolized your time, feeding you and Azul all sorts of food and snacks, offhandedly mentioning that the two of you would have to fatten up a bit to give her health grandchildren. She had to withhold a laugh at Azul's mortified expression. Iris has several albums of baby and childhood pictures, eager to coo over how cute and chubby Azul was as a baby. Her son is sulking at the other end of the couch, but he still has a tentacle curled around your ankle, never leaving you for long.

It's when she's hiding away her album (one of three, Azul's destroyed many be she always has spares), that she overhears your conversation. Iris had stopped by his bedroom to let you two know that she needed to return to the restaurant, but instead quietly delighted at the sight of you two in his octopot. A cecaelia's octopot, hiding place, is a very private and intimate place. So seeing you, cradled in Azul's lap, as his many arms hold you close to him, makes her heart swell.

She decides to leave you two alone, taking one last peek as you giggle at a pouting Azul, before sharing a soft kiss. Iris is smiling at the sight, sighing as she can finally relax, knowing her son is going to be taken care of.

[satorusugurugurl]

Currently thinking about switch reader and switch toru, where reader would be riding him while he’s a crying whining mess, maybe even tying his hands up, but as soon as she gets off of him he’s ripped the binds on his wrists and is flipping her over to give her the same treatment

-🍭

Silk

Characters: Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader

Warnings: Bindage, silk ropes, choking, smut dirty talk, switch!gojo, switch!reader

Word Count: 1,119

A/N: F-Feral, submissive, whinning Gojo is one of my favorite Gojo’s!! 🫣

Gojo Satoru was the strongest. It was something everyone said, including himself. Yes, your boyfriend was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Which meant he got sent on missions a lot, which you didn't mind. He always came back home to you, cocky and ready for a sweet treat as a prize for himself.

What people didn't know was that when Gojo came back from a long or tedious mission, he needed you. Satoru needed you in a way that he never, ever let other people even know about. Because what would that into his reputation? What would happen if people knew Gojo Satoru wasn't always the strongest in bed?

Sure, Gojo loved fucking you into the mattress. But days after two week-long missions, he wanted to sit back and let you take the reins. He was beginning to regret his choice to let you do what you wanted now.

“A-Ah, holy fuck!” Gojo’s eyes flooded with tears, his blue eyes watching his cock disappear into your pussy as he slowly, and he fucking meant, slowly bounced up and down on him. “Y/N babe, please!” He cried out, choking on a sob as you clamped down on his oversensitive cock. “P-Please, move faster!”

“I'm sorry; I thought you told me to enjoy myself, Toru.”

“I-I did! But I-I need more.”

You stopped moving altogether, sitting on his lap, cockwarming his throbbing cock. He whined in protest, struggling against the blue rope binding his wrists together. There was something about seeing him like this. Gojo was so needy and desperate that it had your pussy twitching with need. Feral horny Satoru was fun, but this submissive Satoru hit a different kind of button inside of you.

His hips weakly tried rocking up into you, but you hummed, slowly pulling up off him until he was an inch from popping out. “N-No, wait, what are you doing?! Please, please don't!” With a sneer, you slammed yourself back down onto his length, taking all of him in one go. “HAA!” Blue iris’ were the size of pin pricks as you repeated the same pattern, over and over, until he was choking on moans.

“Look at you~ such a good boy, Satoru~” Your boyfriend's chest heaved, eyes shut tight as you leaned forward, your fingers wrapping around his neck. “Are you my good boy~?”

Satoru bucked his hips cock throbbing as he shook his head. “I-I’m not a fucking sub.” A sadistic smile crossed over your face as he bounced faster, moaning as you felt the coil in your tummy tightening.

“Ooh~? Is that why you're blushing like a whore~? Do you want me to stop?” he shakes his head, “I asked you a question.” Fingers tightened around his throat, and you savored the way he cried out. “So answer it; are you a good boy?”

The way you spoke the degrading tone, made everything feel better. It was like he was in his domain, and everything was much more intense. His balls clenched, and a strangled cry overcame him as the first waves of his orgasm rolled over him.

His hands fought against the silk ribbon you so cruelly bound him with. “I-I’m a good boy! I'm a good boy!” Crying out, Satoru threw his head back, cumming inside of your pussy as you bounced harder, faster before slamming down on him completely, cumming with him.

Heavy breathing flooded the room as your heart rate began to slow. Only when you were positive you weren't going to pass out from pure orgasmic bliss your gaze fell on your boyfriend's face. Satoru’s bangs hung over his eyes; his ivory-perfect skin flushed red.

He looked so fucked out of his, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth. His chest was moving rapidly; his stomach muscles clenched underneath you. God, he looked so delicious like this, but at the same time, he seemed out of it. A little too out of it.

“Satoru?” He didn't respond. “I'll go get you some water.” Inching yourself off Satoru’s semi-hard cock, you gasped as the tip popped out. With jelly legs, you got off him, standing up slowly. “Baby, I'll be rig-” Looking over your shoulder, you came face to face with stunning blue eyes. “T-Toru?”

In one swift movement, Satoru yanked his wrists apart, ripping the blue silk bindings. Large hands gripped your hips, throwing you down on the mattress. The fluidity of his actions left you breathless, his hips pressing against yours. His hard cock throbbed before plunging inside of you.

“Nnngh! Fuck!” Satoru growled, hearing your cries of pleasure. One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew you'd have bruises later. “T-Toru!”

“You thought it was cute tying me up like that?” His voice was dark, lips on your neck, breathless words tickling your ear. “Oh, you got nothing to say now?” he thrust deeper, his cock hitting your cervix head-on. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” His free hand grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against the mattress. “Not so funny now that you're in my position, is it?”

You couldn't find the words to respond other than ‘fuck’. Satoru was fucking your brains out. Literally rendering your use of human language useless. All you were capable of doing was crying out his name as his cock slammed against your g-spot and your cervix with each thrust.

“Ah! Mnnngh T-Toru!” He chuckled, the hand in his hips moving, rubbing your clit in circles, his other hand squeezing around your wrists tightened, making your eyes roll back.

“Who's my good girl?”

“Haah, ah~!”

“Answer the question Y/N! Who's my good girl?!”

“M-Me! I am!”

Satoru took your earlobe between his teeth, picking up the pace of his sensual movements. “Then be a good girl and cum on my fat cock!” His eyes shut tight as you obeyed him, jerking and screaming, your orgasm bringing him over the edge of his second one. “That’s right, good girl~ good fucking girl~!”

The warmth from your lingering orgasm and Satoru’s body laid over you. Satoru’s bare chest hummed with a satisfied groan before trailing kisses up your neck all the way to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of adoration, his strong hands cupping your face. Before he collapsed next to you, his arms dropped over you, pulling you close.

“Next time, you'll be the one tied up.” He whispered over the back of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squirmed. “And baby, that's a fucking promise I intend to keep.”

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 017 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. angst. infidelity. manipulation. lying. defamation.

notes. we are finally at the anti-iris article drop!

wc. 11.5k

series masterlist 

[ SEVENTEEN ] i think i loved you in another life, where i was the sea, and you were the shore. like the tourist comes back to the beach, i come back to you for more and more and more.

The world outside was drenched in a relentless downpour, its heavy pit-patters mimicking the unsteady, erratic beating of your heart. The sky, a somber canvas of gray, mirrored the confusing emotions that gripped at you.

By the Gods, you thought to yourself, I actually kissed him.

You were now walking beside Kiyoomi, your footsteps muffled by the soft, wet earth. Meanwhile, Belleview Manor loomed ahead – a place you now reluctantly had to call home, its enigmatic marble pillars darkened by the rain.

The kiss still lingered on your lips. And your heart, and your mind. You’d only been kissed by Rintaro, but it’d been a hundred, if not more, breathtaking and passionate kisses.

But kissing Kiyoomi had felt different. You couldn’t fathom yet what kind of different, although it was most definitely the good kind. The softness of his lips would forever be etched in your memory. The moment, however shocking and unexpected, sparked warmth all over you amidst the cold, but one that left you more confused than before.

You’d long harbored affections for Kiyoomi, that was no secret. And who wouldn’t, truly? His quiet strength and unwavering kindness had always drawn you in. Being around him… you felt light. Like you’d morphed into an aliferous creature, and the sky was within reach. Yet, as much as you cherished that stolen kiss that you knew would forever change everything, a part of you wondered if this path you treaded in had no return – a path that was akin to the betrayal and lies you’d suffered at Rintaro’s hands.

Rain cascaded down your face, mingling with the tears you refused to shed.

You were both drenched, your clothes clinging to your bodies, and Kiyoomi’s curls plastered at his forehead. Somehow, underneath the storm, you managed to share shy, uncertain smiles.

Use me. If you need me to forget him, if that’s what it takes... then use me. I am yours.

Kiyoomi’s words echoed in your mind, a promise that hung between you like the heavy air. He’d wait for you to love him back, utterly willing to be whatever you needed him to be. A selfless declaration of devotion, a vow that was simultaneously comforting and unsettling.

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear the thought of using him, or treating him as a mere consolation for your own pain. Kiyoomi was too precious, too kind-hearted. Princely as he may be, a pure soul like him didn’t belong in the heartless walls inside the castle. Your feelings for him, admittedly, were genuine, but they were also tangled in a web of guilt and uncertainty. You didn’t want to become what you hated most – to be a reflection of the infidelity that had shattered your own marriage.

The mere thought of being an “adulterer” gnawed at your conscience, even as your own heart yearned for the solace Kiyoomi happily offered.

But is truly so wrong to want love when you needed it most?

Nearing Belleview Manor’s entrance, the warmth of the building beckoned you, a stark contrast to the deadly chill of the night. You looked up at Kiyoomi as you reached the first steps, his eyes soft and understanding, as if he knew the battle raging within you even without you saying it. He’d always been this way – a little too perceiving, a little too observant, a little too loving. There was no judgment in his gaze, only an invitation – a very tempting one – to find comfort in each other’s presence. To let love be as it is regardless of the nuances. To simply breathe in one’s air, and hold each other’s heart with the utmost trust the other would not break it.

Such was not something you could promise to him.

Finally, the manor doors opened, welcoming you into this new chapter you’d been forcibly thrust in. As you stepped inside, the confusion blanketing you never ebbed away. Here, under this roof, you would be forced to confront the delicacy of your newfound relationship – all while trying to discern what was right and what was wrong.

What was love, and what was a desperate grasp for affection in the face of betrayal?

Nothing was ever that simple. You knew you had to move forward, to make choices that would define not only yours, but the entire Kingdom’s future. In that moment, however, all you could do was take one step at a time. Your heart was too torn between the familiar embrace of pain and the tentative hope that perhaps, with Kiyoomi, you could find a new beginning. A better beginning.

Even if you knew, deep down, that if you chose this kind Prince, you would have to say goodbye to the person you loved first.

As you entered the manor’s warmth, the child of the rain faded. You exchanged brief, lingering glances with Kiyoomi – the both of you eerily aware of the unspoken tension of the kiss you’d shared. You suddenly felt too small under his gaze and the manor’s grandeur. You felt odd, like you stuck out like a sore thumb, like the Manor knew you were merely a visitor and never its owner.

The place you hoped to make your second sanctuary now felt like a stage for you to perform in, a graveyard for your deepest fears and desires.

With chattering teeth, the both of you decided to part ways, agreeing you needed to shower and dry off before you caught a cold. Silently, you watched Kiyoomi disappear down the corridor towards his room, your heart a tangled knot of emotions. You couldn’t tell if watching his figure fade away was comforting or numbing. Then, the echoes of his footsteps faded, and the deafening silence welcomed the barraging voices in your head.

You stepped into your own bathroom, stripping your drenched dress and tossing it aside. The warmth of the water pouring down on you did little to soothe the trouble in your mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the gravity of the situation. It was a kiss that happened in the heat of the moment, birthed from your desperate urge to soothe away his doubts that you didn’t love him. But did you? Could it be possible to have a heart so big you could love two people at the same time? And if that wasn’t the case, then did that mean your heart was so small and you had to push someone away to make space for the next?

One thought remained constant: you’d probably ruined everything.

The kiss you shared, however mutual and filled with want, loomed like a threatening shadow over your already fragile friendship with Kiyoomi. Had you finally crossed a line that could never be uncrossed? You couldn’t do undo it, and neither did you want it. And was it selfish to hope for more, to want to kiss him again, when so much was at stake?

Pressing your head against the cold tiles, you let the steam from the shower envelope you. You stood there numbly, letting the water wash away the rain and the remnants of all your darkest fears – yet the uncertainty clung to you like a second skin that was impossible to shed.

What if Kiyoomi felt the same way – that it was going too fast, that none of you had meant to kiss the other? What if your friendship was now tainted by your affections made known?

The thought of losing him, not just as a lover but as a dear friend, was unbearable.

You’d already lost Rintaro. You couldn’t lose Kiyoomi, too.

With your heart far more troubled than before, you emerged from the shower, wrapping yourself in a plush robe that smelled of the same fabric conditioner Kiyoomi used. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come next. You told yourself no matter the outcome, you’d bravely accept it.

Stepping out into the hallway, your eyes widened – stumbling back to find Kiyoomi already standing there, waiting for you outside his bedroom door. He remained a few arm’s length away, his expression sheepish. He must’ve seen it written all over your face and wanted to give you space – as if silently saying it isn’t too late. He isn’t cornering you. If you regretted the kiss – you didn’t – then you still had room to walk away, turn around, and tell him to stay where he was at. You didn’t doubt for a moment he would if you’d told him to.

His presence was a quiet reassurance, a gentle reminder that not everything was lost. Just by giving you the space you needed, without you having to ask for it, the difference is crystal clear now.

Kiyoomi isn’t Rintaro.

He looked you at with a soft smile, his eyes warm and kind. “Goodnight,” he says softly, as if afraid any louder and you would flinch from it. And his voice – deep and calming – slowly soothed the punctures to your soul. “Make yourself at home. My place is yours, too.”

A wave of relief washed over you, overwhelmingly enough that tears glossed your eyes once more. Kiyoomi’s simple, kind words held with them a promise of something more, a silent vow that your bond was not broken, merely… changing. Evolving. You’d been so afraid of things not staying what it was because you’d seen it firsthand with Rintaro – how he loved you one day, and couldn’t bear to be with you the next. But Kiyoomi isn’t Rintaro. Change with Kiyoomi didn’t have to be daunting; it could be something you embraced with open arms.

You realized that despite the torrent of your emotions, through the uncertainty and fears, there was a foundation of trust and care between you that could withstand any storm.

This is Kiyoomi, after all. When had he ever let you down? In your darkest moments, he’d ensured you were never lonely. Whenever you cried, he always offered his shoulder. And when you felt like everything had been taken away from you, he humbly offers his heart – silently pleading you would take it.

The weight on your shoulders suddenly seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” you return his smile – quietly hoping it conveyed more than words ever could.

You walked towards your room, feeling the faintest sense of tranquility settle over you – the first in what felt like an eternity. Already, being apart from the suffocating hands of the Queen made you feel like a newborn taking its first gasp of air.

Ahead you, the road was filled with ambiguities. There would undoubtedly be more challenges to face, but for now, you allowed yourself to be selfish enough to hold onto the small, precious kiss you’d shared. The memory of his gentle goodnight, the warmth of his hands against your rain-soaked skin… Kiyoomi would be your anchor. You would cling to the hope that your connection, whatever it may become, would be strong enough to weather the trials ahead.

It had to. You couldn’t say goodbye to another person.

And so you lay there in your new bed, the manor silent around you. Outside, the rain poured still, each droplet knocking against the glass panes of the windows. It kept you awake and comforted, burrowing deeper into the blankets as you watched the expanse of Inarizaki Palace beyond.

Odd, you thought, how you always dreamt of freedom, fantasized about being released from the chains of a loveless marriage every night. And here you were, offered a divorce. Rintaro had made the difficult decision for you. You stood on the precipice of that liberation you longed for, yet you found paralyzed by a new kind of fear.

Kiyoomi… with his warm eyes and huge heart, offered everything you’d craved for. He was the epitome of a fresh start, a beacon of hope in the murky waters of your past. With him, you could build a life free from all the deceit and betrayal. You could be in Itachiyama right now, riding alongside Kiyoomi with the wind whipping past your cheeks and your carefree laughter echoing in the open spaces. He was the better option, that came with no argument, but were you?

Could you truly give him the love he deserved, the life he, too, had a right to live?

Could you offer him a heart unmarred by the scars of her past, a love untainted by your lingering hurt and doubts?

That moment you ran away from Rintaro, you told yourself you were ready to let go. You could finally leave your marriage and the pain it brought you far, far behind. But now? With the revelation of your husband’s life being in grave danger, how he’s being used like a puppet to be toyed with, your resolve wavered.

Rintaro was a man you once loved, still love. Just as he was the man who had hurt you deeply. The thought of leaving him to face such dangers alone, to be burdened with the knowledge the Crown intended to utilize him like a tool, to know he was being treated inhumanely – it tugged at your heart. It wasn’t just guilt, or conscience. It was obligation. Could you truly walk away now, knowing if you abandoned him, not only would this Kingdom fall into ruins, but Rintaro would disappear, too?

The decision was impossibly cruel – to choose between protecting the one you had once loved, or to safeguard your own bruised, and battered heart.

The pull of duty and the promise of new love were forces tearing you apart to pieces. You felt tired, so tired, of this endless cycle of heartache and confusion.

All you wanted now was a moment of clarity, a sign to guide your weary soul.

You could choose to protect Rintaro, to honor the love you once shared. Or you could choose to protect your own heart, to seek solace in the arms of another. Each choice came with its own sacrifices, its own cost.

As the night wore on, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, accompanied by the quiet ticking of the clock. You knew whatever decision you made, it would shape the course of your life, defining the path you would walk from this point onward. The road to freedom and the road to duty were intertwined, and you stood at the middle of it, the harsh whispers of your past and the hopeful promises of the future converging into one, impossible feat.

And so you lay there, waiting for the dawn to break. You hoped that with the light of day, you might find the strength to make your choice, and embrace your fate. When sleep finally arrived at your doorstep, and your eyelids grew heavy, one more thought crossed your mind.

Rintaro, are you sleeping better now that she’s next to you?

After what felt like forever, the next day arrived.

The morning light stretched its fingers through the tall windows of your new chamber, its golden glow bouncing off the fabrics off your bed. The room, despite being lavishly adorned, felt oddly cold and distant – as if it knew it was a place meant for two, and a room too big for one. Stirring awake, the remnants of last night’s memories came flashing into memory. The softness of Kiyoomi’s lips, the tenderness of his smile… you sighed to yourself, eyes fluttering with a lingering sense of unease.

It wasn’t moments later when the doors to your room opened. The attendants of Belleview Manor moved silently around you, their presence an unfamiliar routine. They were efficient and precise as they tip-toed, their movements almost mechanical as they announced they were to prepare you for the day.

You sat quietly and allowed them to do as they pleased.

It was… a suffocating routine, to say the least. Not even in the main Palace halls were you ever treated like this – ushered into the bath, with two lady servants lathering soap all over your body, and another pair to dry you off. In the main Palace halls, you had more freedom to move about. You could share your bathroom with Rintaro, and even shave his day-old stubble for him. Sometimes, he’d take it upon himself to choose your lotion for you, but here in Belleview Manor, they operated differently. They moved with a clear goal in mind: to perfect the Princess of the Manor before they stepped foot outside.

Toweled and dried off, and smelling like roses half an hour later, you glanced at your reflection from the mirror. Was this how Iris’ daily life had been ever since she married into the royal family?

Although you said no word, your eyes betrayed your inner exhaustion. The weight of your responsibilities, the constant scrutiny, and the unending cycle of keeping lies had all worn you thin. The price of losing your privacy in exchange of being pampered was almost worth it. That’s how tired you were.

The servants dressed you with practiced hands, each layer of clothing a reminder of the role you were expected to play. The dusty rose dress they selected was nothing short of exquisite, but as they draped it over you, it felt more like armor than a garment. It felt heavy on your shoulders; a barrier between your true self and what you were supposed to be. The jewels they chose were also dazzling, each piece carefully selected to complement your outfit – and each one just as heavy and cold against your skin.

Throughout it all, not a single soul spoke a word. The ritualistic nature of it, the lack of personal agency even in the simplest tasks, struck you as deeply inhumane. Everyone here was detached, like dolls without their own thoughts.

Weren’t you the same?

You were a Princess now, a symbol of grace and elegance. Yet, in moments like this, you weren’t that different from a doll – meticulously adorned and presented for the world to see.

You gazed at your reflection one last time. The image staring back at you was flawless, the epitome of perfection. It’d be impossible to tell you merely wore a mask, hiding the turmoil and desperation boiling beneath. It was even harder to tell which was the heavier on your shoulders – the weight of your shoulders, today’s agenda, or the dress.

Allowing the attendants to finish their work, their hands deftly adjusted your attire, perfecting your appearance. They took one last glance, nodded at each other, and promptly left the room.

You let out a breath you’d been holding.

In front you stared back the sealed letter the attendants had brought in. It was an official order from Her Majesty regarding today’s plans – visit an orphanage sponsored by the royal family, smile and wave at everybody, look like a happily married couple, and show camaraderie with Princess Iris. A damned unfortunate event, if you were to be asked.

Nevertheless, a duty had to be performed. Kiyoomi, too, was already gone from Belleview Manor by the time you’d finished breakfast. Something about a sudden, emergency meeting with the Queen and her Council, no doubt about Iris’ pregnancy now that the sudden… relocation of spouses had caused quite a stir within the walls. You could only hope the Queen wouldn’t corner him, too.

Stepping out of Belleview Manor, you headed straight for the Palace. You were supposed to rendezvous with Rintaro there, but your husband was nowhere to be found. A kind servant led you to his study and asked you to wait there, reassuring His Highness would come around soon.

As you entered the study, you were immediately engulfed by a familiar scent – a subtle blend of sandalwood and something uniquely Rintaro. The room was an intimate reflection of him, his essence woven into every detail. Even without him in the space, you felt and saw your husband everywhere – from bookshelves lined with his favorite novels, to historical tomes of the grand, yet dark history, of Inarizaki. His desk, a sturdy piece of polished wood, bore the marks of his diligent work – stacks of paperwork lay half-done, his favorite pen perched on top as if awaiting his return.

On the desk, your eyes landed on a framed photograph of the two of you, a moment from your days of courtship frozen in time. You were both smiling, carefree – a time when laughter came easily, and the burden of the crown hadn’t touched you. Rintaro stood behind you in the photo, his arms around your waist as he pulled you flushed against his chest. He was whispering something in your ear that made you laugh, your smile perfectly captured just in time.

A pang of nostalgia hit you. You wondered… did he look at this picture and reminisced about those simpler times? He’d been so happy, youthful, and so unlike the way he was now.

It truly was hard to believe that none of it was real.

But could there have been instances where he thought of you often, as he sat here in this very room, surrounded by the things that defined him? Was there ever a time when being a Prince got too hard on him, and he leans back on his seat, exasperated, before he stares into the picture of you?

You shake the thought of it away. Before you could stop yourself, you’d already reached over the photograph and flipped the frame down.

He doesn’t need to look at us. He doesn’t need to remember it all.

Deciding to pass the time, you explore the study more closely, your fingers grazing the spines of books and the smooth surface of his desk. Eventually, you settled into his chair, finding comfort in the leather that bore the imprint of his form. As you sat, you let your eyes and hands wander at everything it would touch. Eventually, it lands on a small velvet-covered journal, bound with twine stings, tucked away in one of the desk’s drawers. Your curiosity piqued, you opened it, feeling the soft texture of the pages beneath your fingers.

What you saw was inside – you could never be prepared for it.

The journal revealed itself as a treasure trove of his most private thoughts and feelings, penned in his unmistakable handwriting. And each entry, each page, was about you. As you read, your breath hitched. Rintaro wrote of your first meetings, saying your laughter was a melody he wanted to hear endlessly, and even admitting how your beauty captivated him so completely that he sometimes forgot to listen to what you were saying.

I don’t know if love’s a feeling, he writes, everyone talks about love at first. In that case, is love not more about seeing rather than feeling? I have all these thoughts, and wonder to myself when I can say if I feel that way over her. Because if love’s a feeling, then it is with a heavy and most regretful heart that I admit that I do not feel such for her. I do not ‘feel’ for her. But I see her. I see her when she smiles, the way she throws her head back when I utter a lame attempt of humor. I look at her in her most unguarded moments, when she thinks no one is looking. I remember her sitting on her garden at the Yuzuru Estate, her book cradled in her lap, as her eyes widen and she makes tiny, little gasps at each page turned. I see her, and I see beauty. I see kindness and light within her, which makes me often wonder if I chose to pursue a lady, or a fallen angel. Today, I can’t help but think about it once more: is love a feeling, or is it seeing? Because when I look at her, I think I get a little closer to the answer.

Tears brim at your eyes. Hastily, you wipe them away, fearful that it might stain and blot the words he’d written. Your fingers grow heavy with hesitation as you turn to the next page.

The world is filled with noise I am not fond of hearing. Here in her arms, there is none of that. There is only the steady sound of her breathing, the lulling rhythm of her heartbeat. It makes me want to carve myself under her skin and remain there. I know she will hold me enclosed in her warmth, and safe from the world. But then I tell myself I am a man and I am a Prince. It is quite shameful to admit I yearn so much for her to hold me again.

You giggled despite yourself. That was true; Rintaro was quite the cuddler.

She haunts me even in my sleep. She visits me in my dreams, when the lights have been shut off and the curtains have been drawn. Her perfume sticks to my skin, and I don’t wash it off. I close my eyes and inhale her scent, wishing, praying, hoping for time to go by faster to when I can have her next to me again. It is with this thought I have come to the realization that I am greedy. She is the first thing I seek when I wake, and it is not enough. It never could be. In my dreams, she is still here next to me, and I never had to watch her walk back to her parents with each ending night.

A mix of shock and flattery consumes you. Your heart swells with emotions you’d kept at bay – all the hatred, this crumbling resolve. Rintaro had always been reserved in his own way, but here, in this pages, he was painfully honest, vulnerable, and profoundly affectionate. Was this how his mind worked when he thought no one was watching? Was this not the truth, the rawest point of one’s love bleeding like ink onto paper?

With a trembling lower lip, you dared turn onto another page. Your heart dropped when you realized it was the final entry, and Rintaro was only a few pages away from filling it up.

I am afraid. All I have ever loved eventually slips from my grasp like sand falling through fingertips. I am afraid a time will come I will love her, and she will be taken away from me. I am afraid to love and to have something to mourn. But if I do not love her, then I will lose nothing. Therefore, I should be on guard and ensure she does not steal away what I treasure most. I will not let her take my heart from me if it means she will run away with it on her person someday.

But I want to love her. By the Gods, I do.

I wish I had met her first.

His journal clutched between your hands, you bent over the desk. It was becoming difficult to breathe, your dress impossibly tighter than it was moments ago. Even your vision blurred as tears formed again.

“Is she here already?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Your head snapped up. Rintaro’s voice drifted outside the hall, sounding as if he were speaking to an older man whose words came slow and careful. Outside, you heard more footsteps, one rushed and the other angry.“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I would’ve wrapped up my meeting sooner.” It was Rintaro.

“My apologies, Sir. Her Highness said she was content to wait-”

“She’s a Princess, you fool. You don’t make a woman like her wait.”

“…Yes, Sir. I will do better next time.”

Shooting up from your seat, you make quick work of tying the twine around his journal, and shoving it back to the drawers. You had only a minute to compose yourself before the doors swung open. Rintaro entered, and the sight of him broke your heart. His hair was a disheveled mess, with dark circles lining under his eyes. He hesitated upon seeing you – standing at his desk, hands clasped behind your back, and your framed photograph facing down the table.

His lips flattened into a thin line. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to take so long,” he grumbled, his voice barely audible. “Have you been waiting a while?”

“No, I just arrived here.”

“Okay,” he nodded, more so to himself than you. “Shall we? The orphanage is waiting for us.”

As Rintaro moved further into the room, you started seeing him in a new light, remembering the words he’d written about you – his candid confessions of affection and admiration. It was so greatly different from the compliments he’d said out loud. And it was wrong, it felt wrong, having such knowledge over something he clearly didn’t want to be known. But it was getting harder to forget and ignore him now even more, not when the room was filled with his presence and embraced you. The faint scent of his cologne, the scattered papers on his desk, the photograph, the journal.

You could feel the weight of the unspoken truth between you, daring you to reach out and confront it. Your heart ached even more now that you’d glimpsed a part of him that he had kept hidden.

It must’ve been written all over your face. Rintaro approaches you, a hint of concern in his eyes as he took in the trembling of your hands. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yes, just… thinking,” you replied, attempting to keep your tone light. “It must have been a stressful meeting.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was. But seeing you here makes it better.”

His words, though simple, carried a weight. You felt the stirrings of hope, a fragile thread that connected you despite the complexities of your situation.

In that moment, you realized how much you had both been holding back, how much you needed to communicate and heal. What if… he’d just said it all out loud? What if he had told you, that he did mean it, and he did harbor affection for you? It wouldn’t change anything, of course. The past couldn’t be done. His mistakes couldn’t be forgiven. You weren’t enough of a saint to wake up one day and forget everything.

But it could help you move forward – together.

He just had to tell you. I love you, and you would say it back. As quickly as that thought crossed your mind, however, a certain Prince with soft lips and genuine promises flashed in your head.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rintaro as you realized.

If Rintaro said he loved you… you wouldn’t say it back.

The soft music playing in the car does little to alleviate the tension.

Rintaro sat beside you in the back seat, a pronounced distance between the two of you. His restlessness was evident; he kept shifting in his seat, fingers lightly taping on his knee, and his gaze flickering to the window and back at you again. He knew today was such an important event, that he should’ve gotten some sleep, but it was damned near impossible. How could he when the very room he shared with you, and the bed he’d only slept in next to you once, was now overtaken by a woman whose presence he could hardly stand?

Sure, it’d been his idea. He’d practically dragged an unwilling Iris to the main Palace, all with the hopes of upsetting you – and breaking your heart further – the day you returned. Not that he’d wanted to, but he had to. It was the only way he could succeed in his plans of pushing you far away.

Looking at you now, however… He wasn’t quite sure what to feel.

You looked beautiful. Well-rested, even, as if you’d had the best sleep of your life. Even in the privacy of the vehicle, your posture is ramrod straight. Head held up high proudly. Moving with the careful elegance and grace that came naturally of being born into wealth. And he realized a a part of him loathed it – loathed how you looked… better without him. Loathed how your eyes were bright, your shoulders relaxed, as you gazed out the window and hummed to yourself.

You didn’t look heartbroken as he’d hoped. But it should make him rejoice, should it not? If there was no need to hurt you, and you would already be this detached from him…

Rintaro turned away from you. Of course, he thought to himself, Kiyoomi would’ve taken better care of you.

As you neared the orphanage, Rintaro took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. He moved to open the door when you suddenly reached out, your hand brushing his arm. He glanced at you in question, your eyes meeting briefly. A flicker of something unspoken passed between you. Apprehension, confusion – he couldn’t quite read your face. Only that you were touching him, and he flinched away from the contact. He knew that beneath those gloves, your hands were smooth and soft, unscarred and unmarred by the hardships of life. It only goes to show how you truly were worlds apart.

But today, your worlds converged into one. He had to be the Crown Prince this Kingdom looked up to, no matter how much of a false pretense it held. Today would be the first day he’d have to touch you again, to show the world how much he loved you. And he would – he’d rather the world know he adored you than you realize this for yourself.

Stepping out of the car, you were bombarded by flashing lights and the cheering hoots of your people. Rintaro ignored them all. He simply moved to your side in an instant, his hand finding its place in the curve of your arm as he helped you exit the vehicle.

A smile instantly lit up your face. Raising a hand, you waved at everyone, and he followed, though his smile was more forced than pleased. Soon, you were ushered inside the orphanage by a throng of guards.

“What?”

“What?”

“Why are you staring?” you lightly tapped his chest with your hand, frowning down at yourself. “Is there something wrong with my outfit?”

“Not at all. I was just…” Rintaro gestured down to your outfit. “You’re wearing heels and a skirt, and the pavement is rough. I was making sure you wouldn’t trip.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flickered back to yours. Your shock was unmasked; eyes wide and red-painted lips slightly pulled apart. It made him match your previous frown. You didn’t have to look too shocked that he was capable of concern, though he couldn’t blame you. He hadn’t been the greatest husband so far, and neither was he going to become one anytime soon. And as if the universe wanted to remind him of that, Iris finally appeared – rounding the corner and speaking softly with the orphanage caretakers.

Today, she wore a white, loose and flowy dress to hide her baby bump. White to signify purity, another one of the Queen’s careful schemes to fool the public. Just the sight of her was enough to make Rintaro’s stomach twist.

“Hey,” you spoke beside him, your voice small yet firm. “We will be okay. It’s all just for show.”

Right. For show. He supposed he had the Queen to thank for this public event, then, otherwise you would have no other reason to touch him and smile at him this freely.

Later, the three of you entered the orphanage, greeted with smiles and waves from the children who had all been eagerly waiting your arrival. The children sang songs they had prepared, their voices rising in a sweet, joyous chorus that filled the room with a warmth that momentarily distracted them from the harrowing truth.

Princess Iris moved gracefully among the children, her eyes lighting up in genuine delight as she shared the baked goods she had brought. Her laughter rang out, soft and melodic. She wiped cookie crumbs from the corners of their small mouths, her touch somewhat awkward yet gentle. It almost made Rintaro snicker, seeing for himself how… unaffectionate Iris was.

Across the room, you sat with a group of children, your posture far from being regal as you read stories aloud. You’d taken off your heels to sit cross-legged on the ground, your skirts puffed out underneath you. On your lap sat a little girl with pigtails as she sucked on her thumb. Each time she squealed in delight, she would thump her spit-covered fists onto your blouse – not that you minded. From the looks of it, everyone was enamored with you. He observed the children, their eyes wide with wonder, captivated not just by the tales you spun, but also your beauty.

He caught the giggles of young boys whispering in awe amongst themselves, saying it was their first time encountering a real-life princess.

Seeing everyone’s joy made him feel out of place. Desperate to not appear useless, Rintaro approached a caregiver, who was gently rocking a sleeping baby in her arms. Seeing her weariness, he offered to the take baby so she could rest. The caregiver smiled gratefully, handing over the child with a nod of thanks and reverent bow. Holding the baby in his arms, Rintaro tested out how to balance his weight in his arms before walking over to where the children were gathered around you. He sat down, positioning himself just on the periphery of the circle – close enough to hear your soothing voice as you read, yet far enough to avoid your gaze.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you, a soft pang in his chest as he imagined a life that might have been. One where he hadn’t strayed, where your bond had remained unbroken.

In his daydreams, he envisioned the exact same family scene – you, his wife, reading stories to your firstborn, while he held your youngest, a picture of domestic bliss. There’s cookie dough smattered all over the countertops from a failed baking attempt, and the children are running around chasing each other to wipe the dough on each other’s cheeks. You would chase after them, wet wipes in hand. And Rintaro would hide in a corner, signaling to his children to come running into his arms to escape their mother’s cleaning. The house would be filled with laughter, and he would have grown old with you.

The thought filled him with a melancholic longing, a vision of happiness that felt achingly out of reach.

Looking down at the baby in his arms, a small smile was tugged at his lips. The child’s face was so innocent, so naïve. Rintaro gently caressed the baby’s cheek, the soft skin beneath his fingertips urging from him a protective desire. To have such a tiny thing in his arms, so helpless yet so trusting… it was hard to imagine he’d been like this at one point. It filled him with sadness and shame, knowing that the life he imagined could never be.

He was not a true Prince, just a puppet in the Queen’s grand design. His wife didn’t know this truth, a secret that further deepened his sense of inadequacy every time he stood next to you.

He knew, too, that if he’d never been taken away from his parents, he could’ve never had this life. You would’ve never noticed him, as he’d just be somebody far in the background, blurred and insignificant. But you would remain pristine and glorious, sitting prettily in your estate’s living room as you entertain the next lucky man whose smile you would grace with.

None of it could’ve been real. There were no hopes for in another life, or dreams of maybe in another universe. In all the universes that existed within now, you could never be his.

Rintaro felt like an imposter in his own life, undeserving the love and loyalty of someone like you – a noblewoman who had a great future ahead of her. A future that he’d ruined by marrying you. His gaze flickered towards you, finding that you’d already looked up from your book and smiled at him, and the baby in his arms. It was a gesture he couldn’t bring himself to return. He looked away quickly and focused on the baby instead, wondering if his own beginning had been as uncertain and lonely.

He’d been this innocent, once. Left behind, only to be picked up and molded into a puppet to lead a throne that wasn’t truly his.

He remained distant, physically present but emotionally removed from today’s duty. He was unable to shake the weight of his insecurities, the doubts of why he was even here in the first place. He stayed silent and held the baby close, as if the small warmth in his arms could somehow anchor him amidst the raging torrent of his regrets.

“Your Highness,” the caregiver appeared beside him, a smile on her weary, wrinkled face. “I hope our little one hasn’t been too fussy?”

“He’s a precious baby,” Rintaro reassured, swaying the baby in his arms to show he was peacefully asleep. Gently brushing his soft hair, he turned to the caregiver with a small frown. “Where are his parents? He’s too young to be alone.”

The caregiver’s crestfallen face told him this happened more often that they would like. “He was given up for adoption, Sir. His parents couldn’t afford to raise him, and they thought it was best to secure his future by… giving him up. It was the only thing they could do to give him a good life.”

Rintaro nodded, unsure of what to do with the information.

The call for snack time suddenly echoed through the orphanage, the children eagerly scampering toward the kitchen and their caretakers. Reluctantly, Rintaro had to let go of the baby. Iris had joined them, too, her lilting voice blending with the children’s. She was especially contrived today, all jovial smiles and eager agreements to anything the children wanted.

Choosing solitude over the cheerful chaos, Rintaro wandered out into the orphanage’s garden.

The garden was a carefully tended sanctuary for the children, with lush greenery and vibrant flowers that painted the landscape. Stone pathways meandered through beds of roses, lilies, and lavender, all leading to wooden benches nestled under the shade of ancient trees. The place vaguely reminded him of his first date with you, when he’d taken you into the Palace Gardens. Such a time was only two years ago, and it’d already felt like forever had passed.

With his head down, Rintaro walked, letting the serenity of the garden seep into him. The air was cool and fragrant, which he gladly inhaled with deep puffs of air.

Lost in contemplation, he failed to notice your approach until you were suddenly beside him ��� your presence a gentle intrusion to his momentary solitude. You’d moved so quietly, as if aware he needed this silence. Still, you were unwilling to leave him alone in his thoughts. Together, you walked alongside him down the winding paths, your steps slow and unhurried with each clack of your heel.

The world around him seemed to pause and hold its breath in anticipation.

Rintaro glanced at you from the corner of his eye, enamored with the way you carried yourself. The way your dress flowed like liquid silk with each step, and the way your constant, barely audible humming made him feel serene. There was a softness in your expression he knew he didn’t deserve – one that both comforted and pained him. And with each step you took, the garden seemed to come alive. The colors grew more vivid, the air sweeter with your rosy scent, as if nature itself responded to the sweet calls of your song.

Lilies, he remembered now. He’d once likened you to lilies – delicate and ethereal, with a beauty that was timeless. Its pure white petals and gentle fragrance had always evoked a sense of tranquility within him.

But now, gazing upon you, he realized that lilies no longer fit the enigma called you. You’d become more like a rose, with its layer of deceptively soft petals, entrapping its prey under its perilous smiles. You had the sweetest of fragrances and yet, with your thorns, served as a reminder to him of the pain that your love could bring. Gone was the serene lily of his early affections now that it was in full bloom, vibrant and strong. Gone was the delicate lady he danced with on that night. But he had you – his wife who he craved to embrace, even if it meant he’d bleed out to death.

The two of you reached a secluded corner of the garden, where a bench stood beneath a flowering arbor. You paused there, your gaze distant, yet your proximity to him felt like an unspoken promise, a silent tell how you always kept to your vow – that you would stay, and wait for him, even if he could not bring himself to reach for you.

Rintaro briefly closed his eyes, allowing himself to relish in this fleeting moment – the warmth of the sun on his skin, the scent of roses in the air. You stood there, side by side, fingers shy from brushing against each other. It was a battle of who would drop their pride and speak first, a battle that, it seemed, you would surrender to each time.

“You’re a natural with the children,” you finally speak, rocking back on your heels as you smiled at him. He didn’t like that smile – like you knew something he didn’t, like you chose to be kind to someone who didn’t deserve it.

“I like children,” was all he responds with, content to stay under the shade of the arbor.

You nodded, your gaze dropped at your feet. Beside you, he could see you fiddling with your fingers, trying to find the right thing to say. “How was uhm… your first night? With Iris staying at our – your – room, I mean.”

Rintaro raised a challenging brow. “Are we going to argue about it?”

“No, I was only curious.”

“Why do you wish to know? Are you some sort of masochist?”

You sighed in defeat. “I’m just trying to make small talk, Rintaro. You’ve been avoiding me like I carry the plague each time no one is looking.”

“Isn’t that what you would prefer? Why would I need to put up with the happily married act when there is no need?” he rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling hot under his suit. “It’s just us here. There are no cameras for you to perform in front of. You don’t ‘need’ to initiate conversation with me. There’d be no purpose.”

Your lips twitched in irritation. “Can’t a wife be curious on her husband’s well-being?”

“You can, although I would advise that you don’t.”

He can tell you were doing your best to hold back. He’s courted you long enough to expect the clenching of your fists, the heavy rise and fall of your chest. And there it was – you spin towards his way, shoving your face so close to him that he’s forced to step back. You smelled a little too nice, and he didn’t want to forget his purpose: to make you hate him.

“Why are you being so difficult, Rintaro? I just want to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, I do,” you jabbed a finger at his chest. “I barely slept, if you must know. All I could think about was how… how you’re probably sleeping better now that you don’t have to be in the same room as me. How you ran away when I kissed you at my parent’s estate, how you’re always just – just running off. Like you can’t stand another second of being by my side, and I understand you don’t love me, but why do you avoid me? What have I ever done to you, Rintaro? Why do you push me away?”

Because I love you, is what he wanted to say, but he settled for the next truth instead. Clenching his jaw, Rintaro grabbed at your wrist, effectively stopping you from pushing into him again. “Because I don’t want you getting close.”

“Why? I know all your secrets already. You have nothing to hide. I’ve seen you at your worst, and I stayed, and I’m trying-”

“Trying to what?”

“Trying to make it work,” you snapped back, freeing yourself from his grip. And this was the part he hated the most, when you began sniffling and hastily wiping at your tears. It made him want to reach out for his handkerchief folded in his breast pocket. To reach over and wipe those tears away, and promise that he wouldn’t make you cry anymore. But he doesn’t – it’s a promise he couldn’t keep. He didn’t want to tell you another lie. So he lets you cry and remains his distance, watching as your lower lip wobbles, “Trying to make us work. Trying to understand why you suddenly did not want me anymore. Because I married you, and regardless of what you’ve done, I’m still your wife just as you are my husband. I don’t… I don’t want to keep hating you.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’d be best if you did There is no point trying to make our marriage work. We’re getting divorced.”

“I never agreed to that!”

“You don’t know who you married, Y/N. I told you before, and I’ll say it again,” gritting his teeth, Rintaro gave you one last glare. “This union is a mistake. And I intend to correct it, whatever means it may take.”

The remnants of your argument faded into the stillness of the garden. Silence stretched between you as he saw the pain in your eyes, the hurt you tried to mask with a forgiving smile. You’re stupid, he wants to tell you, offering him yet another chance to mend what was broken. Your kindness knew no bounds – but isn’t that why he’d chosen you? He’d known you would be soft, and now this softness soothed all his aches, serving as another reminder you gave him the kind of love he felt unworthy to receive.

With each step he takes away from you, it becomes harder to ignore the voices. The ones screaming at him to apologize, to turn back, to make things right.

How could you still be so forgiving after everything he’d done? You had given hope, made him believe, if only for the briefest moments that this marriage could be salvaged. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to bare the truth – that he was a pretender, a man with no noble blood, a nobody. The fear of you finding out, of seeing the disappointment in your eyes, was a burden too great for him to bear.

Your anger because he’d loved another? That, he could stomach.

Your disappointment over him leading you on? That, he could endure.

But he could never stand the thought of you looking down on him, or worse, pitying him for the lies he’d been led to believe. In his mind, it was much better for you to see him as the flawed prince rather than a worthless impostor. Better to let you cling to the illusion of his nobility than to destroy it with the harsh reality of his origin. Because he feared that once you knew, you would regret being with him – regretting that you’d wasted your time on a low-life like him.

And so Rintaro did what he had always done. He ran.

He ran from the truth, from the shame of confessing his deepest insecurities, from the possibility of your rejection. In the end, it wasn’t your forgiveness he feared, but the realization that he was not the man you thought he was.

The royal visit to the orphanage, much to the Queen’s delight, had been a success.

Photographs captured you and Rintaro smiling, your hands lightly touching as you interacted with the children. The press was generous with its praise on your apparent reconciliation, the headlines brimming with approval for your ‘undying love and commitment to one another.’

“The Crown Prince has never looked more in love,” they’d written, perfectly capturing the moments where his gaze never strayed far from yours, as if you were the only person in the room. Even the supposed ‘rift’ between you and Princess Iris, his ‘alleged mistress’, were dismissed as nothing but measly rumors. Your public display of holding babies and children with the already pregnant Princess shushed all whispers of a scandal.

Despite the event’s success, the troubles never left you. The ride back home was spent in utter silence as Rintaro closed himself off from the world. And when you’d arrived at the Palace, he walked back to the main hall with Iris, hand-in-hand.

That was enough to make you return to Belleview Manor.

As soon as you’d opened the doors, you were met with a crushing embrace. A small ‘oof’ came out of you when Kiyoomi swept you up in his arms, his nose buried in your neck as he mumbled ‘miss you’s’ at the crook of your neck. It’s wholly sweet, and has you weakening in the knees. Shyly, you reciprocate the embrace – your cheek on his shoulder, and your arms wrapping around the broadness of his back. He’s warm, and smells like mint. He feels like home, too, and you let him guide you back inside the manor as you exchange small talk on how the other’s day went.

The simplicity of the evening with him was comforting; Kiyoomi had prepared dinner, and brought out two glasses of wine. He’d suggested watching a movie to end the day, an attempt to escape into a world where the Crown couldn’t touch you for the next few hours.

But as the images flickered on the screen, you found yourself undeniably distracted.

Rintaro’s hidden journal weighed heavily on your mind, its paged filled with heartfelt confessions and confusing desires. That journal had revealed a side of him you’d never known, his want both startling and softening you around the edges. The realization that he had always held affections for you – even when he couldn’t realize it – made the world feel more unsteady than it already was. It was a truth that cut through the façade of your strained marriage, making you question whether you were truly ready to leave everything behind. To leave him behind.

The answer doesn’t come even as you sit beside Kiyoomi, the prince you’d kissed the night before, the one who’d shown you kindness and love when you needed it most.

The warmth of his presence at your side, the ease of your companionship – it all made your history with Rintaro seem bleak. And yet, the thought of walking away from your marriage felt like severing a part of yourself, a decision fraught with consequences you weren’t strong enough to face.

It wasn’t an easy dilemma to be caught in – the prospect of a new beginning with Kiyoomi, who cherished you, or to brave through the storm of rebuilding a life with Rintaro, who’d hidden his true feelings behind his walls of silence.

The journal had given you a glimpse into a love you thought you’d forever lost, a flicker of hope lit in the distance that perhaps you could find your way back to each other. But there was also fear – the fear of repeating the past, of making the same mistakes, of investing in a relationship that might never heal. Didn’t they say it was only fools who kept doing the same thing, over and over again, and expecting different results?

Before you realized it, the credits had begun rolling as the room fell into darkness. The prince beside you reached out, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves. “You’re distracted.”

You winced, allowing yourself to be scooped up effortlessly in his arms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes, painfully so,” Kiyoomi’s chest rumbles with laughter. He holds you there in his lap, one of his hands circling around your hips, and the other caressing your cheek. You lean into it, seeking his warmth, and sighing at the smoothness of his palm. “There’s something troubling you.”

“Yes…”

Leaning back against the couch, Kiyoomi offers a tender smile. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener. Comes with being a representative of two countries, I believe. You become exceptional at solving people’s problems.”

His words pull a smile from your face. Still, it isn’t easy to tell him everything, but you found yourself doing so anyway. It was hard to keep secrets around Kiyoomi. And so you recall the conversation you’d had with Her Majesty – to choose between making this marriage work, letting Rintaro become King, or doom this Kingdom by letting it all fall to ashes, or let Atsumu reign free. At the mention of the blond twin, Kiyoomi’s grip on your hips tightened, showing his silent disapproval. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about Rintaro’s origin. It was… your secret, for now. A secret that you’d kept locked away in the recesses of your heart, with the key thrown at the edge of a metaphorical cliff.

It was the one thing you’d keep from Kiyoomi.

“I think…” Kiyoomi’s brows furrow in thought, “…you should do what you think is right.”

You frown at him. He’d looked displeased the entire time you’d told him of the Queen’s desire to prevent the divorce from happening, but otherwise kept his lips sealed. “That is a very basic answer.”

He shrugged. “It’s the only right one.”

Silently agreeing with him, you decided to let it go. The two of you remained close to each other like that, your bodies naturally leaning into each other. He was close enough that you could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the steady rhythm like a lullaby to your troubled mind.

In the quiet that followed, Kiyoomi moved closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders in another tender embrace. There was a hesitancy to his movements, a shy uncertainty that belied his obvious longing. His touch was gentle, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along your arms as if afraid you might pull you away. But you never did.

Instead, you sunk into the comfort of his embrace, finding solace in the affection he never withheld.

Kiyoomi leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin as his lips brushed against your temple. It was a chaste kiss, a question wrapped in tenderness – asking for permission in the most subtle of ways. His large hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheek, and you could the faint tremors in his touch.

There was a need in his eyes – a deep, unspoken yearning that mirrored your own. Yet, the respect he held was clear in his gaze, a silent plea for your consent, for you to guide him through the boundaries you had yet to define.

You felt a warm flutter in your chest for this man. It made your mind go back to your debut ball, when you’d first danced with Kiyoomi and had him as your last.

If he’d called on me then, would things be different?

You knew, without a doubt, the answer was yes. If he’d called on you, you would’ve fallen in love with him instead, and eventually got married. Perhaps now you would already have a son or a daughter wreaking havoc here in Belleview Manor. Or maybe they would be quiet and reserved like their father, choosing to rest in his lap as Kiyoomi teaches them the right pronunciation of bigger words. He would’ve been yours, and you would’ve been his.

… And Rintaro would’ve never been in the picture as anyone significant.

As Kiyoomi drew closer, you felt the warmth of his lips hovering near hers. His hand remained cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, and with that touch alone you felt a promise – a promise of gentleness, of care, of a desire that was as much about your comfort as it was about his yearning. A silent promise of I love you and It will always be you. Then, the air between you seemed to crackle, this moment shared with bated breath and unspoken confessions.

“Can I touch you?”

A small nod was all Kiyoomi needs before he’s moving.

Slowly, impossibly slowly, Kiyoomi closed the distance between you. His lips grazed yours in the barest feather-light touch, testing the waters and seeking a connection. It was a kiss that was as gentle as his touch, a delicate dance between lovers who hadn’t rehearsed their movements. But the sensation of kissing him felt like sunshine after a rainy day, like coming home when you’d been away from it for too long. He was familiar, yet new – a rediscovery of a long-forgotten comfort. You never thought that something so wrong could have felt so right.

The kiss deepened, and Kiyoomi groans into your mouth. Each touch of his lips, each gentle caress, felt like a revelation – peeling away the layers of uncertainty and revealing the undeniable, simple truth that you’d both wanted this, had thought about it more times than you’d like to admit.

Kissing Kiyoomi was like falling in love for the first time, when you’d still been unafraid and bravely jumped off – knowing he’d always be there to catch you when you did.

The kiss was sweet and unhurried, neither moving more than what was necessary because you had all the time in the world. It also held a promise of more to come, and you couldn’t wait to get there.

As you finally pulled away to catch your breath, your foreheads rested against each other. Kiyoomi’s lips are swollen and red from your passionate kiss, and he smiles – the sight beautiful enough to make your heart stutter. “I never thought I had to remind you, but if it’s any reassurance… you don’t need to worry about me. I will wait for you,” he promises, turning your wrist inward to place a kiss right at your pulse, his gaze not once leaving you. “As long as it takes, Princess. As long as it’s you.”

You reciprocate his smile and lean forward, resting your head on his chest contentedly. There, you breathe in his scent, sleepily mumbling, “I heard the Queen called you over this morning to talk about the baby… what did she say?”

You felt Kiyoomi sigh above you. “It’s just as I feared. We are to make a formal announcement soon on the pregnancy. Her Majesty hopes that if I declare we’re having a baby, it’d make our marriage look more…”

“Real?”

“It has always been real,” he corrects, and you wince at his brutal honesty. “But Her Majesty hoped it’d send across the message that it was marriage of love, I meant.”

You snorted. “Now that is unreal.”

“Very unreal.”

“I won’t let it happen,” you lift your head to shake it at him, vehemently refusing. Just… the thought of Iris parading around with Kiyoomi on her arms… it made you feel sick. “That child isn’t yours. You don’t need to take responsibility for it.”

Kiyoomi merely smiles, unaffected by this whole ordeal. “Don’t fret about it, Princess. I don’t plan on playing house with her soon, or anytime for that matter. I’m yours, remember?”

You tried not to melt at his words. “But… if duty calls, you will have to act like you’re in love with her. You’re going to go out pretending that you’re a happy family, and how you’re ecstatic about this pregnancy. I can’t watch it happen, Kiyoomi. I can’t.”

“Then would you rather Rintaro play father of the year?”

You rear back, flinching as if you’d been slapped in the face. “That is very unfair.”

“Forgive me. I was only teasing,” he reassured, his voice light yet husky as he stares at you. Desire pools in the darkness of his eyes once more, his grip around your body hardening. “I like you like this – in my home, and smelling of me. I like seeing you so… concerned over my fate,” he says, smirking at you as you laid with your legs sprawled around him. “Is it bad I am thoroughly enjoying the fact you are upset for my sake right now?”

“You are one odd man.”

“A man is never normal when he is in love.”

When night time arrives, and Kiyoomi has retired to bed, you finally make the decision to make the phone call. He answers at the third ring, and even without speaking, you could already picture the smug grin the journalist is wearing. He’d been waiting for your call for months – a call you never made at the mercy of not adding more burdens to Rintaro. But now?

Now, you had to save Kiyoomi, just as he’d save you.

“Finally made up your mind, Princess?”

“Yes, Kuroo,” you sighed, glancing at the serenity of the Inarizaki Palace at this time of the night. It wouldn’t be long before that said peace would be disrupted. “It’s time.”

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈?

In an unprecedented revelation that has sent shockwaves through the courts of Itachiyama and Inarizaki, the true identity and motives of Princess Iris Amari are called into question. Known hitherto as a paragon of virtue and a beacon of diplomacy between the two nations, the princess’s ascent from humble origins to the heights of royalty is now under scrutiny.

What hidden truths lie beneath her polished facade? Is her marriage to Prince Kiyoomi a union of love, or a calculated bid for power?

Who indeed is Princess Iris Amari?

Born to Kate Amari, a woman of modest means and erstwhile personal assistant to Lady Sakusa Kanami, the princess’ path to prominence appears less the result of serendipity and more a tale steeped in mystery and intrigue. Lady Sakusa and Kate Amari were known confidantes, their bond solidified amidst the scandals of the King’s many indiscretions. It was amidst this turmoil that Kate Amari mysteriously resigned, relocating to Inarizaki under circumstances as unclear as they were sudden.

The revelations continue to unfold as we delve deeper into the shadows of this royal narrative. Despite her close ties to the Sakusa household and her loyalty declared to the Queen, Kate Amari conspicuously absented herself from the King’s funeral, her departure raising more questions than it answered.

Could this have been an effort to obscure a more sinister involvement? Her daughter’s subsequent enrollment at the prestigious Inarizaki Private Royal Academy and her close association with Crown Prince Rintaro only add layers to this mystery.

Reports suggest that Princess Iris, far from being a passive participant, may have played a more active role in influencing the young and impressionable Crown Prince. Confidential photographs show scenes of reckless behavior: smoking, drinking, and attending unsavory gatherings. Such actions raise the question – was the princess’s influence benign, or was it a calculated effort to destabilize the Crown Prince’s future?

The clandestine marriage of Princess Iris to Prince Kiyoomi, conducted without the customary fanfare and devoid of public engagement, has further aroused suspicion. In contrast to other royal nuptials, this union was marked by an unusual degree of secrecy.

What compelled the royal couple to eschew tradition? Was there something they sought to hide from the prying eyes of the court and the public?

Despite her esteemed position, Princess Iris’s commitment to her official duties has been found wanting. Her infrequent visits to Itachiyama and reported attendance at a controversial private party, accompanied by Crown Prince Rintaro, have further tarnished her public image. These events, allegedly involving illicit substances and scandalous behavior, paint a picture of a royal figure embroiled in activities unbecoming of her station.

The most damning revelation comes from the past of Kate Amari, whose conviction for murder and was imprisoned in a foreign land casts a long shadow over her daughter’s current position. This disclosure raises grave concerns about the character and intentions of Princess Iris.

Is the royal family, revered and respected by the populace, harboring a member with such a tainted lineage within its hallowed halls?

As the public reels from these revelations, the image of Princess Iris as a figure of unity and grace is shattered. Is she merely a pawn in a larger scheme, or the mastermind behind a carefully orchestrated rise to power? The people of Inarizaki and Itachiyama, loyal subjects of the crown, now find themselves questioning the very fabric of their beloved monarchy. The presence of a murderer’s daughter – a woman implicated in deceit, adultery, and scandal – within the royal family challenges the sanctity of the throne and the trust of the nation.

The truth, long obscured, demands to be unveiled. As the court and the public alike seek answers, one question remains: What lies beneath the veneer of Princess Iris Amari, and what fate awaits the royal family in the wake of these revelations?

The eyes of the world are upon Inarizaki, and the unfolding drama promises to redefine the very nature of royalty itself.

[moonstruckme]

no cause I was thinking…. reckless driving by lizzy is so james coded!!! so I wanted to ask if you could write something inspired by it with reader being a bit insecure about loving him loudly and he’s just like a walking „I love my gf“ sign

ily I hope you are having a great day/night🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting, love you!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s beginning to frighten you how often you think of James. One of your friends will make a joke and you’ll catch yourself trying to remember it for him, or you’ll see a cute dog and want to send him a picture, or you’ll overhear a conversation in public and wish he were with you to press in close to your ear and ask Did you hear that? 

It’s sort of pathetic, really, considering you’ve only been dating a few weeks. The last time you’d met up you talked about how much you both loved the thin oreos, and when you saw a pack in the store yesterday you’d almost bought it for him. Only the realization of how much your life has started to revolve around him stopped you. 

You can’t be acting like James’ girlfriend. You’re only dating. It’s not like you love him—though you could, definitely, in time. But if you start doing girlfriend things, he’s going to think you are his girlfriend, and things will spiral out too fast for you to stop them. You have to dole out your affection in measured doses. Careful, controlled. 

You feel James enter before you see him. He holds the door to the coffee shop open wide, letting another woman exit before he steps inside, and the cool air that comes in with him has you turning your head. 

James is smiling as soon as he sees you. It’s a seemingly perpetual thing for him, this expression. You’re tempted to look out the window to the sidewalk and see if he’s left a trail of sunshine in his wake. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from you. ��You look really lovely.” 

You look exceedingly normal, but you thank him for the compliment anyway. “So do you.” 

“Thanks,” James says easily, like he gets this all the time (he probably does) but appreciates it nonetheless. He starts to dig in the tote he’s hung on the back of his chair. “I’ve brought you something.” 

You start to protest, but he anticipates you. 

“It’s tiny, don’t worry. Here.” 

He slides something crinkly across the table. It’s a pack of thin oreos. 

“Oh, no way! I almost…” You look up, meeting James’ eyes as your brain catches up to your mouth. Too late, you’ve blurted. You can hardly roll it back now. “I almost got a pack for you the other day, too.” 

He doesn’t seem to take your insensitivity to heart. In fact, his eyes light up. “Really! That’s so funny.” His hand remains still on the table but his fingers stretch towards yours, the barest of touches. “It was nice of you to think of me.” 

Your heart slumps. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them for you, though,” you say. “We should share these ones.” 

“Nope.” James leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Those are all you, love. Say, have you had a look at the menu?” 

You wince. “I’ve already ordered, actually.” 

“That’s alright,” he says breezily. “Back in a sec.” 

He stands and gets in line, leaving you to contend with the semi-awkward silence of being in the same place yet not speaking. Right as he finishes ordering, the barista calls your name. James looks like he might grab your drink for you, but you meet him at the counter, thanking the barista as you take it. 

“No problem,” she says with a smile. “Love your outfit, by the way.” 

You fluster a bit at the compliment, a break from the typical coffee shop dialogue you were prepared for, but James wraps a friendly arm around your waist and beams right back at her. 

“She’s got great taste, doesn’t she?” he asks, and you manage to cast a quick thanks over your shoulder as he steers you back to the table. “See, it’s not just me that thinks you look especially pretty today.” 

“Oh, hush,” you say, taking your seat and looking down to stir your drink bashfully. “What’d you order?” 

“Irish cream latte. Limited edition, apparently.” 

“So, the sweetest thing on the menu.” 

The smile spreads on James’ face. It ebbs and flows like the tide, you think, never really leaving. “You know me so well.” 

The warmth in his voice makes your chest feel hollow and achy. James goes to such lengths to do nice things for you, to show you that he pays attention and thinks about you and cares, and yet when it comes to you he’s left settling for whatever scraps of affection he can get. 

“James…” Your tone reveals your shift in mood instantly, and James’ head straightens the way a dog’s ears perk when it hears something alarming. “You know I want to take things slow, right?” 

He nods, and when he speaks his voice is considerately softer. “Yeah, you’ve said. Do you think we’re—I’m moving things too fast right now?” 

“No, just,” you wet your lips, having some trouble looking at his face, “I don’t know, I feel like I’m not being as good as you deserve. You’re such a sweet person, and I think…sometimes I feel like maybe you’d be happier dating someone who could be more all-in. You know?” 

For a second, the silence is torture. Then: “Someone you’re trying to set me up with, sweetheart?” 

You look up in surprise, but James is smiling again. Softer, now. Almost tentative. You find yourself mirroring him reflexively. 

His knee bumps yours under the table. “I don’t mind moving slowly with you,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because you seem like you’re ready for more.” And I don’t know if I can manage that yet. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He takes your hand in his, and his eyes are soft, sweet caramel. He looks almost like he could love you. “If I’m coming on too strong, you can tell me, but I care about you. It’s hard for me not to be all-in, but that doesn’t mean I’m expecting the same thing from you. You seem like a sane, well-adjusted person.” James nods seriously. “Something I could use, I’ve been told.” He tries to keep the poker face when you grin, but fails in half a second. 

“Okay.” You give his hand a little squeeze. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“I won’t,” he says certainly. “I always go for the sweetest thing on the menu, remember?” 

You take your hand back to cover your face, and James’ laughter echoes off the walls. 

[creepywrites]

Ben

Warnings: death and cults.

After a big argument with Sarah, he ran away from home when he was 10, Ben had no plans and was just wandering until he met a recruiter and convinced him to go with her because she offered shelter and food.

Ben was slowly being indoctrinated, he realised quick to get a crumb of attention he needed to conform and fit in as much as possible.

he was drowned on his 12th birthday, and was excited but wary when he was informed he was going to be the first to be ascended and tried fighting back when they were drowning him.

After joining the eternity project he never saw his mum while alive again and never attended school, instead he was homeschooled.

Not many people took notice of his disappearance besides Sarah.

Because he was the first known to be successfully ascended they named the group after him, B.E.N.

During the ascension, he became the statue of elegy, unable to communicate to any of the others or interact with the new world.

This is because the leader knew he wasn't actually as dedicated and compliant.

His body was dumped and never found, because Sarah died, people completely stopped looking and his case was dropped shortly after.

Ben doesn't know he's dead and was wandering aimlessly, nearby where he died, confused and lost but feeling a connection to the place.

People often visit the lake and every time he hides away, too afraid to interact.

He loves legend of Zelda because of the puzzles and it was the series that helped him feel less lonely, one of the few games Sarah would play with him as well.

He really wanted to know more about his dad, even though he know he left them, Ben wanted closure.

He was a very lonely and insecure kid, people at school never liked him and avoided him, because of his lack of social skills he never talked to people with similar interests.

After Sarah saves him, he becomes Child Link, and Ben's spirit was able to separate himself from BEN when the Majora's Mask cartridge was reset.

Ben doesn't remember anything of what happened inside the game after the reset.

He's best friends with Sally and Lost Silver, Sally saw him and kept coming back to reach out to him, sensing his sorrow and convinced him to leave, believing she can help him.

Him and Lost Silver became friends very quickly, they met when Ben accidentally went into Pokémon silver.

His powers are intangiblability, hydrokinesis, super strength and teleportation. He can also go into games, he doesn't use any of them however.

The black goop from his sockets and mouth constantly drip down his face, it pours faster when he cries. He himself doesn't even know what it is, but tries to not question it.

Ben hasn't celebrated a single holiday since joining the Eternity Project, and couldn't celebrate much with Sarah, but does the most the can with Sally and lost silver.

Ben doesn't kill people, even though he easily can, he just wants to live his life and try to improve himself with his friends.

He doesn't surround himself with people that kill.

He collected a lot of things like stickers, magnets, and pins based on his favourite games at the time, mostly Sonic, Legend of Zelda and Mario.

He puts them on things to claim them.

He doesn't take drawing seriously, but he still likes doing it with Sally.

His favourite games are Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time and Harvest Moon. However he likes a lot of other games, too. As long as there's some sort of action he'll probably enjoy playing it.

He enjoys Dungeons and Dragons, he used to play with Sarah. He's a big fantasy nerd in general.

Because he forced his way out of the cartridge,  he'll randomly start to glitch, appearing more like the elegy statue or child link for a few seconds to minutes, this usually freaks or worries new people that he meet's because they don't know what's happening.

Ben always unintentionally masked around the other members to try and fit in.

He doesn't mask nearly as much as he used to, and only really does it if he is with someone he doesn't know or like.

His special interest is Pokémon and legend of Zelda,

His stim is kicking his legs.

although he's gained a lot of knowledge over the years, he still has extremely childish mannerisms. The more upset he is, the more child-like he becomes.

Seeing others enjoy what he no longer can brings feelings of envy and resentment.

The first few years he was trapped in Majoras Mask, he felt scared and betrayed, he hated anyone who was in the project, and wanted them to suffer.

But after Rosa and Sarah, that changed his mindset after realising it wasn't some evil plan by everyone involved and everyone was just as confused.

Even though he couldn't interact with anyone, Rosa was always talking to him when she could.

He had no clue Sarah was the one helping him.

Ben mostly keeps to himself because he is afraid to lose the friendships he has - he will only interact with others when they are in the right state to do so. He knows that the people he holds dear are very fragile emotionally and deeply traumatised.

He doesn't speak very often, only a select few have ever heard him say anything.

He's completely blind, Sally is the one who usually guides him along, because they are on the move a lot, he doesn't have time to know the layout.

In 2018, another Great Depression occurred, leaving many people jobless, homeless and a decrease in international trade. Many people died during this period until it ended in 2020, Ben was completely convinced this is what the Eternity Project was preparing for and thought it was the end of the world and they were going to die.

Ben still keeps up with new Zelda games and enjoys the majority of them.

He's always wet, his clothes clinging to gaunt features.

Ben likes the other ghosts but can only hang out with them for so long because of all the different smells are overstimulating.

He’s fluent in English and has an American accent.

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

To Have You is to Hold You

Aventurine x fem!reader

Navi.

Warnings: smut, mdni, slight exhibitionism, cockwarming w/o piv sex

Autumn Festival 2024

Wordcount: ~1.2k

It was a cold night on a distant planet covered almost entirely with the leaves of maple trees. Carefully, you pulled your silken cape tighter around you, silently cursing your boyfriend for choosing this godforsaken dress for you. A shiver ran through your spine at the involuntary image of him trailing his fingers up your – at least underneath the thin cape – exposed back. Why you had to walk all the way there was beyond you. Especially since he only wanted you to pick him up; no doubt to briefly flaunt you only to "mysteriously" disappear into the night with you. At least you could finally see the pompous manor of one of your boyfriend´s filthy rich clients. Normally, you would have preferred to stay at home, warm and cozy, but to experience a ball, if only for a moment…you really couldn´t pass up that offer.

At last, you reached the steps to the manor. You looked up, breath leaving your mouth in soft clouds, eyes taking in the white stone of the building, intricate patterns etched into it. One last shiver passed through you when you entered. Already you could hear music playing in the ball room. A young man approached you.

“May I take your cape, Ma´am?” Carefully, he helped you out of the garment and laid it across his arm. “Please, wait for a moment. Someone will come to lead you to the ball room in just a moment.”

A young woman led you into a hall with walls made of marble. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and for a moment the sheer splendour of the room left you dizzy.

“Careful.” A man had appeared beside you. He was dressed extravagantly in a royal blue satin coat collared with what seemed to be feathers and a mask hiding one half of a stunningly beautiful face. You accepted his hand.

“I really am lucky to have stumbled across such a lovely lady,” gently, he led you through the hall. “May I ask your name, mon ange?”

For a moment, your gaze was fixed on his eyes. Heterochromia you believe it was called, the way the purple mixed with blue in his iris. He waited patiently for you to finish taking in his features.

"Oh, stop," you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Aww come on," he whined and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Suddenly, he paused, as if struck by a sudden realisation. "You know, I was hoping to get a dance with you tonight, but now I really just want to snatch you up and away. Is that my perfume you're wearing, baby?" he murmured into your ear. "And on top of that, wearing something so..." Nimble fingers slid down and through the slid of your dress to lightly toy with your panties. You slapped his wrist, and he retracted his hand with a hiss of a laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute, I could eat you right up,” he cooed.

“My hair is a mess.”

He grinned. “I know.”

“You´re unbelievable. Is that why you had me walk all the way here? It's cold outside.”

That drew out a true laugh from him and he pulled you against him by your waist. His hot breath fanned over your cheek. “You look so, so cute.” Aventurine trailed his fingers up your spine, and you pressed your hand over your mouth to stop a moan from breaking free.

“Stop it,” you hissed at him, but he only shook his head, smiling.

“Oh dear, how could I,” gently, he rubbed his nose against your cheek. Suddenly, you felt his soft lips brushing your skin. “Not when you look at me like this.”

“Like what?” your voice came out breathy.

His quiet laugh tickled your skin.

“Glaring and pouting, as if you want me to just throw you over my shoulder and take you home with me.”

A gasp escaped you at his admission.

���Aventurine, don't you dare!”

“Really, you look so appalled, one would think it wasn´t you that looks so scandalous in your pretty dress, hm.” He pressed his nose into your cheek while he continued. “Look at them, don´t you see how they look at my baby?” You bit your lips, following his gaze. It was true. One or two averted their gazes when you looked at them. Aventurine clicked his tongue. “I´m the only one who you´re letting get a taste of you, right?”

“Mhm.” Slightly out of it, you nodded.

“That´s right,” gently, he brushed your hair back and pulled away. But a warm hand remained on your lower back. “Then let´s get going, yeah?”

The easy-going smile was back on his lips.

“I only just got here!”

“And I already got what I want,” his grin was cheeky as he showed you a check. You huffed, really having hoped for at least one dance.

“See,” His laugh pulled you out of your thoughts. “Your pout,” his fingers lightly tapped your chin to make you look up at him, “is the absolute,” he pressed a kiss to your lips, “cutest thing in the whole world.”

He paused when he noticed you leaning in for a second kiss. His gaze softened and he caressed your cheek.

“Oh my,” he murmured and leaned down to really, truly kiss you. The tips of his fingers hovered over your exposed thigh for but a moment, then settled down to trace your skin delicately. He hummed into the kiss when he felt you shiver in his hold; drew you closer and bluntly pressed his fingers into your thigh. His lips swallowed your soft cry.

An awkward cough made you flinch away from your boyfriend. Absolutely flushed and embarrassed you looked at the butler of the house.

“Please, Ma´am, Sir, if you would…”

“Ah, of course!” Aventurine smiled and pulled you behind him. “We´ll be gone just this second. Thank you very much for your exquisite service.” And with that your boyfriend pulled you out of the hall and towards the parking lot. An older man from the IPC stepped out of an Oldtimer to open the car door for you both. Aventurine ushered you inside and closed the door behind him after climbing in himself. Then, he leaned forward to shut the sound-proof screen between the front and the back of the vehicle. Lean hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you on top of him immediately. His lips followed the curve of your neck while he tugged up your skirt and started to take off your panties.

“C´mon, baby, need you,” he whined against your skin, the desperate sound making your core clench around nothing. Hurriedly, you took off your underwear.

A shudder ran through you when his fingers brushed your clit, you barely noticed the car had started to move.

“Fuck,” he murmured feeling your wetness, reaching down to pull out his cock, “Need you so bad.”

And how could you say no to him looking like that? Hair all messy, brows pinched together, a furious blush covering his cheeks.

Careful not to hurt yourself, you lowered yourself on him, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. Still, you knew to press your hands over his mouth to muffle his cries. While the screen shouldn´t carry the sounds out, you didn´t want to test its limits.

Finally, you had sunk down to his base, your boyfriend´s fingers holding you by the thighs so tightly they were leaving marks. With a soft cuss he let his head fall forward against your shoulder. Gently, you carded through his hair and chuckled lightly at the shiver that went through him. You pressed a delicate kiss to his head and he all but held you tighter against him, nuzzling into your neck.

“I thought you needed me,” you broke the silence after a while.

He hummed, hands finally relaxing and caressing your sides with utmost tenderness.

“Got you now.”

“You always do.”

Only a few minutes later he was asleep in your arms, lulled to sleep by the steady beat of your heart and the warmth of your pretty pussy enveloping him.

[megalony]

Make It Stop- Part 2

Here is the follow up for my Eddie Diaz imagine, I'm so pleased you all liked the first part and I hope you will like this one too. Any feedback is always lovely.

I have been having a slow day with writing today, wanting to write but not feeling the mood for any particular idea. But all the requests keep me going and make me excited so keep them coming.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Eddie is married to Bobby's daughter, and things take a bad turn when they have to take her to the hospital in the middle of the night. And the doctors can't find out why.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A smile graced Eddie's lips as he walked round the front of the jeep over to where Bobby and Athena were stood. He bounced his youngest on his hip, feeling Mavis scrunch her hand up in his shirt as she clung to him and began drooling on his shoulder.

"Hey cutie," Bobby held his hands out expectingly until his granddaughter was carefully eased into his arms. He lifted her up so he could kiss her cheek before he settled her down on his chest and pressed his lips against the top of her head.

Eddie stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched fondly as Mavis cuddled into Bobby's chest and showed off a toothy smile when Athena kissed the back of her hand.

It felt strange just having one of the kids with him. But both Chris and Iris were in school and Eddie didn't want to part with Mavis and ask Carla to look after her. He wanted Mavis to be with him and he knew it would cheer (Y/n) up to have one of the kids here to see her.

"You brought visitors." Eddie managed a smile when he looked behind Bobby and noticed Hen and Evan stood to the side.

All the team had been nervous for the last three days. It had been so strange for them to be at work with Hen as active captain while Bobby and Eddie both took the rest of the week off. They needed to be with (Y/n), especially when they didn't know what was causing her illnesses and her sudden bouts of agony and pain.

They were all taking turns watching the kids and being at the hospital with (Y/n). She didn't like being in the hospital, especially not alone and if they left her, they had a feeling she would try and discharge herself.

The five of them slowly walked through the main entrance and headed down the hall towards the stairs. Eddie wasn't sure if the staff would be happy to find (Y/n)'s room cramped with all these visitors, but it would only be for a few hours and they wouldn't be any trouble.

"How is she?" Hen weaved behind Athena and moved over to stand on Eddie's other side. They were both medics, they had a bit more understanding of health conditions and complications than Evan or either of (Y/n)'s parents.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders high as she assessed Eddie.

He had one hand tangled in his hair, loosening the knots that gathered between his fingers. Dark purple ringlets hung beneath his crackling, brown orbs and his skin looked very pale, verging on grey. He looked like he hadn't eaten anything during the last three days since she had seen him at his house with (Y/n).

"Random granulomas in her lungs and liver, and then a haemorrhage in her bladder, and they don't know why. But the meds are working, she's so much better today."

Seeing (Y/n) more like herself didn't do anything to calm Eddie down, if anything, it put him more on edge. He didn't understand why she had the granulomas in her lungs to begin with, or why they moved into her liver. And the bleed in her bladder was so sudden and unexpected, and there was no reason for it. The doctors couldn't explain any of it.

But yesterday, (Y/n) had seemed much more like herself. She was eating and drinking, she was sitting up and talking and she could breathe properly without gasping or feeling a tightening in her chest.

Eddie knew the doctors were thinking about sending her home soon, but he didn't want her home until they knew why she was ill and could ensure it didn't happen again.

"And there's nothing wrong with her blood?" Hen pondered as they advanced up to the second floor.

"Not that they can find."

"I'm sure they'll come up with something." Hen didn't voice it, but she knew the doctors were likely to come up with an explanation soon. They had Eddie breathing down their necks and the whole fire department waiting for answers, they weren't likely to rest until they got the answers they needed.

Athena moved ahead and pushed open the stairwell door, keeping it open for everyone to filter through. But her eyes lingered on Evan who was leaning over Bobby's shoulder to try and interact with Mavis.

"You never said Eddie was related to you. Why didn't you say you had grandkids?" Evan looked between Bobby and Athena while he smiled at the little girl who was drooling and making small noises into Bobby's shirt.

He had never once heard Bobby talk about having a daughter. He scarcely opened up about losing his wife and son in the apartment fire back in Minnesota.

Learning Bobby did indeed have a daughter and three grandkids was a big surprise to the team. It was even more of a surprise to learn Eddie was his son in law and was in fact very close to him. They had been more than professional at work. Neither of them had given away this little fact or let on that they were closer than just Captain and teammate.

"It never came up," Bobby shrugged and turned to the right when Athena held out her hands and gently took their youngest grandchild from his arms and into her own.

"I'm pretty sure it should have when we talked about bringing families to the summer party. You could have mentioned Eddie's practically your son."

Evan wouldn't voice it, but he felt a little irritated at not learning this sooner. He felt close to Bobby, he often thought of Bobby and Athena as his surrogate parents. It hurt to realise they were more like Eddie's parents and were in fact related to him than Evan.

"And have you go in a mood or say I'm getting preferential treatment? No thanks." It wasn't so much Evan or Hen, as the rest of the team that Eddie had been wary of.

He didn't want anyone saying Bobby went easy on him or was soft or let him get away with things because they were related. If no one knew, no one made a fuss and they all remained friends but with professional boundaries in place. It was easier not to ay anything. Not that it mattered now, anyway.

"Alright, here we-" Eddie bit down on his lip and held back a sigh when he opened the door to (Y/n)'s room and looked inside. "What on Earth are you doing?"

He felt Bobby's hand on his shoulder as he leaned around his son in law to look into the room and see what he was referring to. Evan and Hen crowded behind as Athena and Mavis stood on Eddie's right and leaned gently on his arm to see what (Y/n) was doing. None of them could gather any words when they looked around and locked their eyes on her.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and tried to bite back a sheepish smile when she looked over at the door.

Her arms moved to coil around her waist and she looked down at herself before she glanced back up at her family crowded in the doorway.

She was fed up of wearing the scratchy, uncomfortable hospital gown they had provided her with when she was admitted. And when (Y/n) noticed the bag Athena had dropped off for Eddie with clothes, deodorant and a few essentials from home, she couldn't resist. (Y/n) wanted to feel comfortable and move about.

It had been a little harder than she first thought. She went to the bathroom, dragging the IV pole along with her and stripped from the nuisance gown. She changed into a pair of Eddie's jogging bottoms and the bra she had worn when she was admitted, but the IV was harder to fathom.

(Y/n) couldn't undo the clip properly or remove the wire so she could slip on Eddie's hoodie. The effort, along with a sudden bout of dizziness had landed (Y/n) on the floor.

She was sat in the doorway to the bathroom, hoodie resting over her lap, IV pole behind her and her legs curled beneath her as she sat wearing jogging bottoms and her bra.

"I was sick of wearing that stupid gown." (Y/n) mumbled quietly but when she tilted her head back to look up at them, she could feel the blood draining down to her toes. And her head lolled backwards as her hand planted down on the floor to keep herself sitting upright.

Eddie shook his head, tutting under his breath as he marched into the room and bent down in front of her.

"Then you wait for me to help you. You don't go doing everything yourself."

"Sorry,"

Eddie held his breath when (Y/n) flopped her head to one side and looked at him with those big doe eyes and a lopsided smile that had his heart fluttering like a bird in a cage.

He moved down onto his knees, tutting at her quietly but when (Y/n) leaned over and let her head drop onto his chest, he felt himself deflating. He wasn't angry at her, but he wished she would just wait for help and let them look after her. She always thought she had to do everything herself when all Eddie wanted to do was look after her and make sure she was okay.

He cradled the back of her neck and pressed his lips against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo that was starting to fade. His other arm secured around her waist and he gently shuffled her to the side so she was propped up against the bathroom door.

For a brief moment, he let his eyes wander down to (Y/n)'s exposed stomach. The fading, slashed line across her abdomen beneath her belly button caught his attention; her scar from the C-section she had with Iris. And an inch below that was a fresh incision in her skin with four neat, navy blue stitches sewing the skin back together.

He hated that (Y/n) had needed to go for minor surgery to repair the bleed in her bladder. And Eddie hated that they couldn't find a reason or explanation.

"Come here," He whispered softly and reached out for her right hand so he could drape it across his thigh.

His fingers glided across the back of her hand and he made sure the canula was still inserted in her vein before his touch moved up along the fluid tube. a few centimeters up, Eddie found the cap and the two cut off sections where injections and doses could be administered into the IV line.

He capped off the tube so no more fluids could get in and unscrewed the green plastic, removing the wire free from the canula in her hand.

"Alright, let's get this on you, mi amor."

Eddie reached out for the hoodie on her thighs and he grinned when he realised it was one of his.

A quiet 'oof' left his lips when (Y/n) let him pull the hoodie over her head and then slumped forward into his chest again. She closed her eyes and smiled into Eddie's shirt, breathing in his scent and went floppy like jelly so Eddie could carefully ease her arms through the sleeves. He was particularly careful not to nudge or pull out her canula and he rolled the sleeve up to her elbow to make sure it was in tact.

Once the IV line was reconnected, Eddie patted (Y/n)'s hip and held her waist so he could move around and crouch between her parted thighs.

He looped her legs around his hips and effortlessly lifted her up so she was sat low on his hips with her arms around his neck and her face smothered against his collar bone.

Bobby silently walked over and followed behind them with the IV pole as Eddie went over to the bed and eased (Y/n) down so she was sat in bed again where he expected her to be when they came in.

"Better?" Bobby asked gently and leaned down to kiss her temple while Eddie perched on the side of the bed and Athena moved to sit down in the chair beside the bed.

"Much better."

As soon as Mavis looked around, her arms stretched out and she began whimpering and gurgling until Athena carefully sat her down on the bed.

(Y/n) held her arms out and lifted Mavis up just before she had the chance to flop onto her stomach and hurt her stitches. The whole of (Y/n)'s abdomen was sore and tender and her chest was still aching every now and then, especially when she took deep breaths.

She settled Mavis down tucked under her right arm and let her lean on her upper chest. Three days without the kids felt like a lifetime and (Y/n) couldn't wait until this afternoon when Eddie would bring Chris and Iris down to see her. When she got her arms around them, she wasn't sure she would be able to let them go.

Hopefully in a day or two, she could go home.

***

"Mr Diaz, your wife has reacted well to the medication for the last five days-"

"You think two days without a symptom means she's cured? You can't even find the problem. You're not sending her home."

Eddie clamped his hand down on his hip while his other hand rubbed across his jaw. He leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. The last thing he needed was to lose his temper here and now, but he couldn't help himself.

"I think your wife is sick of being in observation and all our tests are negative. Unless she has another symptom or relapse, we can send her home and continue tests and routine checks every week."

"No." Eddie pushed off the wall when he noticed his father in law walking down the corridor. He waved his hand out and beckoned him over. "This is her dad. You can explain to the Captain of the 118 firehouse why you want to send his sick daughter home without a diagnosis or anymore treatment."

"You're doing what?"

As soon as Bobby clamped his hands down on his hips and stood tall and stern in front of the doctor, Eddie could feel the man's resolve melting away. He watched with glee in his eyes as Bobby intimidated the other man who had to be about his age.

Bobby wasn't having this. He wasn't letting them discharge (Y/n) when they still didn't know what was wrong with her. What if it happened again? What if she got another unconnected symptom? What if they took her home and she suddenly deteriorated fast and out of nowhere?

As soon as the words "Let's talk in my office," hit Eddie's ears, he turned his back and moved towards (Y/n)'s room. He wasn't going for an argument in this man's office. Bobby was the one he needed to deal with now or else Eddie was going to lose his temper. At least with Bobby they could talk things through calmly and try to come up with a solution.

Whatever was wrong with (Y/n), it wasn't going to just go away and Eddie knew that for a fact. He knew the granulomas hadn't caused the bleeding in (Y/n)'s bladder. There had to be some underlying cause somewhere causing these problems.

"Daddy!"

Eddie spun on his heels and plastered the calmest smile he could manage on his face. His eyes set on all three of his kids and the sight made his heart swell and sent his lungs tightening in his chest.

They would simmer his temper down and make him smile. They would make (Y/n) feel better too. They didn't want to leave her the past two days they had been down to see her. Eddie wanted (Y/n) to come home, he wanted his wife home safe and well with them, but she couldn't come home now when she might still be unwell. It was too risky.

"Hi baby girl, come here." He leaned down and scooped Iris up in his right arm as his left arm secured around Chris who pummelled into him and almost knocked him down. "Are you okay, how was school?"

He looked up and nodded at Athena who was bouncing Mavis on her hip with a tender smile. Athena had barely put Mavis down this last week since she and Bobby had been helping out with the kids.

"Good, can we see mum?" Chris leaned his head back to look up at Eddie while Iris looped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. They had been switching between staying home with Eddie on a night and staying with their grandparents. And although they understood why, it had still been a daunting week for them all.

Everyone wanted things to go back to normal and for (Y/n) to get better.

"Yeah, let's go surprise her." He sat Iris on his hip and kept his other hand on Chris's back, waiting for Athena to walk alongside them before they walked down the corridor.

"Was that the doctor Bobby wandered off with?"

"Yeah." A silent exchange passed between them and Athena pursed her lips, humming and nodding to herself. She could sense in Eddie's silence and the fury in his eyes that her husband was about to be having an argument rather than a civil conversation.

"Eddie! Oh God, Eddie!"

An ungodly tremor surged down Eddie's spine and fizzled his blood down to his toes when (Y/n)'s voice caught his attention.

He turned to look at Athena who went rigid beside him. Something was happening. When Eddie left her room less than twenty minutes ago to go to the toilet and subsequently talk to the doctor, she had been perfectly fine. She looked a little tired and languid but other than that, she had been sat up reading a book.

"Stay with nana." Eddie slumped Iris down to her feet and pushed her and Chris towards athena, stopping his son from trying to rush ahead with him.

He couldn't have any of the kids going into (Y/n)'s room, he didn't know what the problem was or what he would be walking into.

"Eddie!"

(Y/n)'s cry had Eddie's heart hammering away against his chest and each beat made him feel like his heart had become impaled on his ribs. He bolted to the right and barged into the room, slamming the door shut behind him so none of the kids could see or properly hear what was going on in here. He already knew Athena would be on her way to find a doctor and get some help.

"Baby, baby what's wrong?"

Eddie stumbled over to the bed, holding his breath deep in his lungs as he looked around and tried to see what was going on.

She was laid in the middle of the bed, both arms seemingly bound around her stomach and her feet were pressed down into the mattress with her knees pulled up near her stomach. (Y/n) had her shoulders pulled inwards and her body was leant forwards with her head almost touching her knees.

Pressing his knees into the edge of the bed, Eddie carefully wrapped his arms around (Y/n) and tried to be gentle when he reeled her up.

"Baby-"

"I-it hurts… oh it kills! Make it stop! Eddie m-make it stop, please." The words spluttered through gritted teeth and her tone was volatile and high in pitch.

This felt so much worse than the blockage in her liver. It hurt more than the needle Eddie punctured into her lung to relieve the pressure. This was more than painful discomfort in her bladder. And the pain wasn't in any of those places like it had been before.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where the pain was coming from or what the problem was, all she knew was it felt like someone had taken to stabbing her repeatedly. Each heartbeat sent her blood pounding and she could feel her heartbeat vibrating and pulsing off her like heatwaves.

Reaching her hands out, (Y/n) curled her hands around Eddie's bicep, digging her nails into his skin like tallons sinking through to the bone. Her eyes snapped closed and her head pressed into his shoulder. She wanted to double over and see if it would ease the pain, but Eddie wouldn't let her.

His left arm secured around her chest and his right arm looped around her back, keeping her sitting up and imbedding her shoulder into his chest. He pressed his lips against the back of her head and started to shush her as he carefully leaned her back so she sank down into the pillow.

"Okay baby, shh I've got you it's okay."

When she tried to push forward again with a cry resembling a howl, Eddie pushed her back again. "Baby you have to let me look. Shh, let me see what's wrong."

He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt and her frame began to tremble as she sobbed in absolute agony. But if Eddie didn't examine her, he wasn't going to know what the problem was. It was either him or a doctor examining her to find out what was wrong.

Once (Y/n) was laid back, Eddie pushed her knees down to her legs were on the bed and not coiled up near her stomach. He lifted her shirt up towards her bra so he could see her skin and try and find the issue. His hands instantly moved towards her bladder and where her stitches were, thinking she might have an infection or another bleed.

But when Eddie pressed down near her bladder, (Y/n) shook her head. That wasn't where her pain was situated, her bladder was seemingly fine. And he could tell by her voice and her cries that her lungs weren't a problem.

Eddie looked into his wife's eyes and pulled her eyelid back. The whites of her eyes weren't yellow or discoloured, her liver was still in working order too.

Moving his hands around, Eddie pressed down on various areas of (Y/n)'s chest and torso until (Y/n) suddenly jumped beneath him like he had brought her back to life. A scream bounced off her teeth and clawed past her lips as she latched her fingers around his wrist again to either make him stop or get him to do something about the pain.

"It's your spleen, it might have burst." Eddie reached out and hit the emergency button before he sat down and let (Y/n) sit up and burrow into him.

"No… oh no," (Y/n) choked as she pushed herself further into Eddie like his comfort would do something, anything, to make her feel better and relieve her pain. Her cries shivered through to his chest and her tears soaked into his shirt as she cried and gasped.

Why was she now having problems in her spleen? What was happening to affect so many different organs in her body like this without connection?

"Alright baby, I'm here. We'll get this sorted, I promise."

***

(Y/n) slowly peeled her eyes open, taking her time to try and get her vision to focus and adjust so she could find out where she was and what was going on.

She felt battered and bruised.

Her body had been used as a pin cushion, needles punctured into her chest, dozens more into her bladder to infuse medication and remove the bleed. Needles into her liver to take bloods and check function and that it was back working again. Her chest was still swollen and bruised from her respiratory arrest. And now another part of her abdomen was aching and felt like it had been torn apart.

Before her eyes adjusted, (Y/n) reached a shaking hand up and grabbed the oxygen tube that was pushed under her nose. She yanked it out and tossed it off her ears; she didn't want that.

"Hm…"

"Hey mi amor, how do you feel?"

Her lips formed a languid, lazy smile and she flopped her hand around until she found Eddie's wrist that was resting near her thigh. She limply tugged on his hand until he started to chuckle and got the hint.

Eddie leaned over her chest and pressed his lips to her temple while his hand brushed across her jaw and neck. He couldn't stop his heart from hammering away in his chest when he tried to lean back but (Y/n) tilted her head and caught his lips in a kiss.

He kissed her lips once, then twice, then a third time until he had to pull back and let (Y/n) catch her breath before she passed out on him. His nose brushed hers and he rested his temple on hers, smiling as her eyes finally seemed to come into focus.

"Hi,"

A grin formed on Eddie's lips and he laughed. "Hi, baby." He kissed her one last time before he slowly sat up. He shuffled his hips back until they touched (Y/n)'s thigh and let her look around her crowded room.

Her dad was sat on the chair on her right with Chris perched on his lap, smiling intently when (Y/n) realised Chris was holding her right hand captive in both of his. And Athena was sat to her left with Mavis and Iris both sat on her knees.

"What happened?" (Y/n) squeezed Chris's hand and kept hold of Eddie's wrist while she felt his fingertips feathering up and down her wrist and arm.

"It was your spleen, it ruptured so they had to remove it."

He watched the way (Y/n)'s smile dampened and her eyes glanced down to her chest as if she could see through the scratchy hospital gown to look at her skin. She didn't dare think what her abdomen and torso would now look like. Puncture wounds from needles, her old C-section scar, the new line of stitches from her bladder surgery. And now another small scar or two to remove her spleen. What would be next?

"Good news though, we can take you home in two days."

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side and looked across at her dad with furrowed brows. Why would they take her home so soon? She had just had her spleen removed for no apparent reason. Surely she would have to stay longer now and wait for another organ to fail or another rupture or blood loss to take effect? What if this happened when she went home, what would she do?

She didn't realise tears were falling down her face until Chris let go of her hand and reached out to brush them away.

"Let's go get your mum a drink, she'll be parched by now." Athena got to her feet and held her hand out to Chris while Mavis settled on her hip and Iris stayed dutifully by her side. She waited for Chris to kiss (Y/n)'s cheek and whisper 'love you mum' in her ear before he took Athena's hand and followed along. Telling her exactly what drink he knew (Y/n) would want to make her feel better.

"Home?" (Y/n) moved both her hands to hold Eddie's arm and tugged until he obliged and held her hips. He carefully sat her up while Bobby moved the pillows behind her so she was upright rather than lying down. "I c- I… if it happens again?"

"Baby it won't-"

"What's next?"

Eddie didn't understand what she meant until one of her hands moved to her chest and she started patting up and down her chest and abdomen. She felt like someone had a map of her body and was ticking off each organ and part of her that they were injuring. Lungs, liver, bladder, spleen, there wasn't a lot left before everything was hit and then where would she be? She would end up dying.

Was she dying? Was that why they were sending her home? Had they finally found out the problem, but it was bad news? Was she going home to die?

It was as if Eddie could see every horrid thought running rapid in her mind because his hands smothered her face in an instant. His thumbs brushed beneath her eyes, his fingers danced across her cheeks and he kissed her lips as his temple pressed against hers.

He felt (Y/n)'s hands shakily grab his wrists and hold tight until her nails were cutting through his skin and she was cutting off his circulation.

"Nothing's next, mi amor, I swear. You're gonna be just fine now, they've found the problem."

(Y/n) tried to catch her breaths that were running away without her and she turned her head to the right to look at her dad. He smiled, doing his best to hide the tears in his eyes and he moved to perch on the bed next to her.

Bobby kissed the side of (Y/n)'s head and wrapped an arm around her middle while his other hand fumbled in his pocket. He found the small plastic container he had been holding onto for the last three hours since (Y/n) came out of surgery. The small vile no bigger than a blood sample tube, which had captured the Captain's attention for the last few hours.

When he held it out for (Y/n) to see, her eyes narrowed and her lips curled. She didn't know what she was looking at.

Her hands stayed bound around Eddie's wrists to keep his hands close even as he dropped them from her face and moved to hold her waist instead.

"W-what is it?"

"It's the splinter they found in your spleen."

She didn't understand. How could she have a splinter in her spleen? How could a splinter have caused all this damage? Her eyes narrowed and she leaned closer to look in the vile. A thin- very thin, almost miniscule piece of wood about the length of her fingernail. Her eyes danced back across to her husband, wanting some sort of explanation.

"It must have been near your intestine, you moved during the night and it moved to your chest and caused the respiratory problems. Then it moved to your liver, causing the granulomas, and then down to your bladder. You were lucky it ruptured your spleen, or they might not have found it."

No one could say for sure where it started or got into (Y/n)'s body, but they knew the route it had taken. It had punctured a lung and caused respiratory arrest which then caused the granulomas, and when it moved to her liver it caused the same problem. The medication cleared up both those issues, but the splinter moved along and went down to her bladder and poked through the lining which caused the bleed.

Travelling to her spleen was a lucky escape. It caused enough damage to rupture the organ and surgery to remove it left the splinter stuck in her spleen and effectively took away the problem.

"How?"

"The doctor said you either ingested it, or if you've had a fall, it could have punctured into your system."

Either it was in any food (Y/n) had been eating or chewing and got ingested into her system. Or when she had been in the garden or playing with the kids or taking them to the woods and had a small accident, it punctured right through her skin. It was so small and sharp that it could have felt like a pin prick, a small discomforting pain like a scratch rather than a horrid pain like the agony it had caused throughout her system.

None of them would have ever thought up this explanation. None of the team were going to believe it when Eddie and Bobby told them what had happened.

If they didn't find it, Eddie wouldn't believe it, and there was no wonder it hadn't shown up in any of the scans (Y/n) had. Wood absorbs water, it would have absorbed the fluids in her body and changed the density so the MRI hadn't picked up its presence.

Turning her head to the right, (Y/n) kissed her dad's cheek before she pushed forward and wrapped both arms tightly around Eddie's neck. She shuffled until she was practically sat on his lap with her face buried in his neck, breathing in his scent as he kissed her temple.

"You're gonna be just fine now, mi amor. I promise."

[howifeltabouthim]

Oh the tears she had shed for that man, and they were certainly not yet at an end.

Iris Murdoch, from The Book and the Brotherhood

[celestialprincesse]

How do you think the taskforce would react to Y/N being a triplet? 🤔

Like she's sitting at a cafe somewhere, she bumps into the others and then BAM 2 other identical versions of her appear 👯‍♀️

OHHH they would be SO confused I love it.

When you offered to introduce your sisters to the Taskforce, getting an enthusiastic 'yes' was the last thing you'd expected. Apart from MacTavish. He wants to date your sister so that he and Simon will eventually become brothers and morally obligated to hang out on holidays.

What they don't expect, is you walking into the pub flanked by two carbon copies of, well, you. "Steamin' fuckin' Jesus." Johnny huffs, whilst Simon sits there kind of smug in the knowledge that he's the only one that knows that not only are you one of three, but also that you and your sisters are more identical than the twins from the shining on speed. The only visible difference between you, Florence and Iris is the dimple on Florence's left cheek and the mole above Iris' eyebrow. Other than that, you're the same. Although you were all born on the same day, Florence was the first to come out, followed by Iris, and then finally you. Three, identical triplets.

Johnny looks like he's living his wet dream, Gaz looks at Iris like she's just hung the stars in the sky, and Simon looks at you with a love that is only yours. "Guys, these are my sisters." You introduce warmly, encouraging the two to introduce themselves, all whilst you shoo the boys out of the way to make space for the three of you. "There's three of ye." Johnny observes, still a little dumbstruck. "Three of ye and yous all look the same." "Yes, MacTavish, you've never heard of triplets before?" "Jus did no expect for ye to look quite so similar. Ye knew about this Ghost?"

Simon just gives a little nod, pulling you into his side with a soft kiss to your temple whilst Florence and Iris get chatting to the others, just as charismatic as you are.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

wrote this whilst attempting to pack so it's a little short but it's such a good idea so I'm tempted to add to it when I get the chance😚

[tojjist]

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and  cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet  Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant. 

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand  reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette  from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his  direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual,  that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words. 

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to  your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought. 

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17. 

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact. 

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances. 

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store. 

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,”  he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late. 

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response. 

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ IRON MOON ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

aemond targaryen x reader

summary: bitter arguments lead to bitter ends.

warning(s): 18+ smut, lannister!reader, established relationship (although there is quite a bit of tension), angst, fingering (just a smidge), breast play (if you squint), sexual intercourse ?? ( unclothed grinding)

a/n: it's been several months since i've written so enjoy this piece cause I don't know if i can deliver this hard again, i fear. thank you @targaryen-dynasty for beta-reading this for me.

There’s a sharp sting in the socket where Aemond Targaryen’s left eye should be. A pain so brutal, that in his haste to sit upright, his spine cracks in response to the movement — head heavy and pounding with lingering exhaustion. 

Tossing his amber furs aside, Aemond blinks rapidly, the dull throb in his lobe pulsing in discomfort, as he adjusts his vision, despite still being disoriented by slumber so deep, he had found himself almost fully rested. Almost. 

From what he could see in the sliver of starlight illuminating his bed-chamber, he quickly glanced around the vast space. His usual chair — once tucked under a large, stone table where his books sat piled atop one another — had been moved directly in front of the fireplace, where burning embers lifted in thick, dark ropes of smoke, evidence of his betrayal and the constant reminder of his wrongdoings wafted in the air, blackening his lungs, forever tainting his soot-covered soul. He could see it in the ash threatening to snuff out the flames warming his snowy skin; could feel the bones in his spider-like fingers grow numb with anticipation. 

Or was it fear? He could differentiate the two no longer. 

Gooseflesh raises upon his arms, although a chill in the air is nowhere to be found. His ears are the first to register — a sigh from his right, muffled as if he were underwater. His head stings once more, and he hisses through his teeth. The torment behind the gaping wound is needle-sharp, like the blade he was maimed with. It was the very reason for his misery, a pang of unease constantly gnawing in the depths of his belly, raising bile in his throat. 

His desperation to please had gotten him nowhere but backward, his fingertips lightly ghost over the gaping wound in his skull is a significant reminder of that much.

“Did you find rest?”

Aemond’s hand drops to his exposed side, legs swinging over the bed to hover over the cool stone flooring, head hung low, heart racing erratically at your seemingly missed presence.

“What are you doing here?” Jaw taunt, his fingers slowly crawl over crumpled bedding before grasping it tightly, a harsh swallow following not a second after. A twitch made its way up his spine, starting at his lower back before crawling, grasping at his bones for leverage, lungs releasing an unintended sigh to linger in the air. 

Marriage was neither kind to you nor Aemond – unwanted, heavily weighing on shoulders that could only lift so much. He sought to be rid of you — to have you running for the hills of your home of Casterly Rock with your skirts lifted in haste, head hung down in shame, intimidated by his coldness and calculated gaze, one iris burning with the flames of Old Valyria.

He had never wished to take a wife, even less a Lannister whose false promises meant naught to him on the rare occasions he’d find comfort in your arms when desperation clawed at him. Vulnerability didn’t suit him. The One-Eyed Prince came to that conclusion the first night he lay in his separate chambers after clambering out of yours, face beet-red in humiliation that burned brighter than dragonfire. 

Touch is what he craved. It gnaws at his insides, filling his veins with longing he could no longer deprive himself of, the urge to let his tongue twist and flick against his teeth and let words sail in the wetness of his mouth. 

Seeking out whores for comfort what was he turned to; peeling off his clothing and leaving every inch of his skin as bare as the day he was born, curling into himself as if he were still a babe attached to the teat. Pleasure was never in the foreground of his mind, even when Sylvi’s shaky fingers threaded through his silver tresses, whispering words of reassurance in his ears. 

In a way, it was freeing – having someone touch him that way, dote on him as if he were fragile,  thin lips parting to vent to her in a jumble of words. The simple utterance of his platitudes would never reach beyond the cracking stone of the brothel he frequented, and would not spread like the rot eating away at him. 

He made sure of it. When leaving Sylvi he always did. 

Aemond had been ridiculed, whispered about amongst the Keep in conversation between ladies of the court, fathers making an example out of him to set their rebellious sons straight. An observer he was, extending his ears to anything that might be of importance to weeding out traitors of the crown, of his brother who was less than deserving to sit the Iron Throne, a seat that he would’ve been granted had he been the first son.

The Gods continue to strike their fury down on him.

“I’ve come to reassure my mind that you’re still in good health, my prince. Since you like to linger in the shadows.” 

Your presence looms over his head like a cloud, carrying the finest rainfalls to drop onto him the second your footsteps echo in his ears, the blood in his veins hum, fingers tingling with a certain numbness that fills his beating heart with a sense of dread.

“Welcoming yourself into my chambers gives you enough answers?” 

Even with the expanse of his back on display for your eyes, he did not have to crane his neck to know that you bore a smirk as you spoke once more.

“You may not realize, but when you’re in a state of unconsciousness you tell all.” With a clammy palm, you grasp the iron handle of a flagon, full to the brim with untouched wine that had been placed there earlier in the day by a maid, no doubt. “I seem to find you more pleasant that way.”

Nostrils flaring, Aemond inhaled the scent of parchment paper and ink that he had left out to dry as he took in your words. Although there was no ill intention behind the desperate urge to fill the short silence, he considered it so. “You’ve come to ridicule me?” 

“Is that what you think?” Your tone is accusatory, and rightfully so. You’ve been naught but kind to him, even with the tension between the both of you thickening every day the sun sank below the horizon.

Lifting a cup, you pour enough wine to teeter over the edge, wasting no time before closing your pillowy lips around the rim. “‘Tis merely an observation,” you add.

“Mhm.” 

“You think poorly of me.” 

“No.” 

“Then why do you speak to me as if I were poison in the flesh? We are married.” 

Your fingers tighten around the neck of your chalice, shaking with such vigor the liquid sloshes, falling next to your bare feet before splattering on your toes.

Aemond turns his neck slowly, lips pressed together, torso adjusting to his newfound angle so he can look at you in the flicker of surrounding paraffin wax candles, violet eye narrowing. “You seem to be adjusting fine despite our… challenges with one another.”

Licking the flesh of your bottom lip, spit-soaked and tasting of Dornish wine, a laugh escapes your throat, dry and devoid of humor. “And whose fault might that be, hm?”

Aemond lightly gasps as you ease your body in between his nude thighs, free hand taking hold of his jaw. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin of his cheeks as you raise his head so he can look you in the eyes, which gleamed with mischief. 

“I give you the privacy you so desperately seek. Now, I must ask something.” 

Fire burns in his belly, tightening the knot that wishes to unravel itself as you gaze at him over the shining steel of your cup, sipping its contents eagerly. You were by no means subtle with your emotions. 

Aemond quickly learned that the minute he laid his head on your lap, skin-to-skin on his furs after consummating your marriage without prying eyes. You had treated him with such care then, caressing his skin, weaving his hair through your fingers. It felt as if care had sprouted in his lungs, constricting his throat, and leaving him speechless.

Contentment had presented itself as a lion, a woman who was the first to make his heart soar and his head swim.

He was less than deserving. It was decided.

By title and law, you were his wife, a lifelong partner with whom he was to share all his worries and complications — no matter how severe. Yet, he could not find it within himself to tell you what he speaks to the woman he seeks out.

He swallows thickly. 

Biting the inside of your cheek offers some sort of solace as you kneel in front of him, knees stinging, aching, and wine spilling once more. The sleeve of your sun-yellow nightgown is wet, permeating the air with a stench so sweet and bitter that it causes your nose hairs to burn as your lungs expand for air when you set it down.

His cheeks turn cold with the removal of your hand, yet he can not find the strength to unclench his jaw, chest heaving in expectance. 

“I have done naught but be good to you as best I could. Must you make this difficult?”

Your hands search for his, bringing them to your mouth before laying a kiss upon them – a gesture that causes his cock to twitch briefly, the brush of your lips awakening the beast of desire within him.

“My duty to you is not forgotten, wife.” 

Aemond states this as if it were practiced, monotonous and cold despite his hands still cradled in yours. You squeeze, averting your gaze from the sharpness of his features to his silky hair, a long stream of silver glistering in the night.

“Do not speak of duty to me, husband.” You spit, teeth clenching. “You are bound to me, promised.” 

There it is again. That dull throb behind the sapphire in his socket causes him such nausea that he closes his sole eye. “I know of my vows to you.”

He says your name with a sigh, almost like it pains him even to utter it. 

Your stomach clenches, although your face remains stoic. You had tried with him.

Had kissed his wet lips and shared his breaths, had held him in a tender embrace on the night of your wedding, supple fingers ghosting over collarbones, bellies full of wine.

You should have known.

It was too good to be true. He could not overlook his internal turmoil, nor quench his thirst for misery. His self-pitying is too strong, you think. 

In truth, you had foolishly thought you both had come to an understanding – some sort of reassurance to one another in terms of trying. 

He had given you his word. 

“I do not think you do. I have stood in your corner far longer than I should have, only for you to toss it back in my face. Is this what you make of our union? A jest, an act of sheer folly?” You release your grip, clapping your hands together as his eye burns through the thin material covering your figure.

Is that what you think? 

He would have been a fool to let the thought cross his mind. Your time apart has proven that to him; admitting his love for you to be solid, unwavering even amid a war he had senselessly acted in – no – continues to. 

Aemond’s lip twitches, a sneer forming moments later as he stands abruptly. You jump back in sudden surprise, bottom landing on the floor, hands splayed out to cushion yourself, yet it makes your shoulders ache with pain. 

“You do not know me.”

His hushed spoken words are true, almost like he had to fight something in his scrambled mind to get them out. Blinking rapidly, you crane your neck upward to look at his tall frame, towering, yet broken, spine bending slightly. “I have tried to be near you– “

“Then allow yourself to be! The Gods only know how many nights I grow restless.” You seethe, rising, hands pressing down the front of your gown to dust off dirty palms. Your nose hairs burn. 

Fire. Warmth. It fills your senses as quickly as his disrespect. 

Exhaling loudly, you await with gooseflesh littering the expanse of your arms, reaching underneath the hem of your dress, pebbling sensitive nipples.

Through the darkness, the small gleam of unshed tears presses behind your eyes, threatening to leak on warm cheeks and crumble the exterior you had worked so hard as a Lannister to create. 

Have you disgusted him so much? 

“I- I cannot be as close as I desire. No matter how hard you want me to. I yearn to touch you,” He moves forward, the muscles in his arms flexing as he takes your head in his hands, lips but a hair's breadth away from yours. 

It is cool, seeping through your pores, lulling you into a state of ease you cannot recall feeling elsewhere. This is the first time he’s laid his hands upon the smoothness of your skin in weeks, lacking in the roughness he had shown you previously.

There’s a need that coils itself in the swell of your belly, spreading to the rest of your body as your blood rushes to your ears, heart pounding erratically.  Leaning into his touch, you swallow harshly, jaw clenching. 

There was a war. Both in your body and out there beyond the walls of the Keep, yet you could only focus on one.

“Then why do you not?”

“I am not someone you wish to have.” His thumbs circle under your cheekbones, featherlight. “A weakness in me stalls my efforts at happiness with you.” Nor did he want to disappoint. 

That aspect would always etch itself in the crevices of his soul. The desire to please, to be acknowledged as the man he’s tried tirelessly to mold himself into had become him. What he once was does not matter. 

It can’t.

“You cannot decide that for me, Aemond. I refuse to live out the rest of my days with you dragging bitterness and longing by its tongue. Do you not see how devoted I am to you despite the blood that has coated your hands.” You angle your face to press a kiss to what skin on his right hand your lips can reach. “I want only what you can offer me, no matter how horrible.”

Aemond’s self-restraint snaps as easily as his temper when he finds himself devouring your mouth, a man starved. Need courses through him, sends a shiver up his spine so violently that you can’t help but gasp in the heat of his mouth, as he drags you toward the bed.

When you pull away, your nose skims against his scar, and his hands slide down your arms, finding purchase on the dips of your waist, gripping the fabric stuck to your skin. “Let me have you.”

It’s a demand that sends his tongue delving into the dip below your jaw, above the pulse point in your neck as he suckles, nipping an array of red blooms down to your chest.

The One-Eyed Prince had never been presented with such an easy task as this, and never was he so eager to fulfill one’s desire whilst he licked stripes between what expanse of the valley of your breasts he could reach, a sense of pride surging through him as you moan lightly, threading your hands through his hair, gripping it at the root. 

“Never have I laid my lips upon flesh so soft,” he murmurs, as you sit above him.

You could believe his words tonight, under the light of a flame — something he seems to be made of as he peels your nightgown off swiftly, letting it sit at your waist. Your bare cunt throbs as his cock lightly brushes over your folds, slick with arousal and the urge to be filled with him completely. When you lift yourself from his face, you drag a finger down his jaw, watching the way his chest rises in anticipation before your hand curls around his throat, squeezing his windpipe.

His staggered groan is hearty, straight from his throat as he throws his head back, eye screwed shut, and legs stiff beneath you with the added gyration of your hips. Being at your mercy excites him; stimulates him beyond belief when you start panting and Gods, he will never tire of hearing it. 

“Such a good boy” 

The sight of him is one you’d ingrained in the foreground of your mind until the second your lungs could no longer take in breath. You truly had never seen anyone more hauntingly beautiful than Aemond. 

The tip of his cock leaks at your praise, lubricating the rest of him, mixing with your fluids, slick with need, ready for you all the same. 

You’re trying to find relief as his whimpers send jolts of shivers running up your spine, raising the hairs on the back of your neck, hooded eyes admiring him pinned beneath you with interest. The muscle of his tongue glides over teeth, shiny and saturated, calloused fingers indenting your skin from his grasp. Pain has never been so pleasant to you as it is in this moment, sweet friction creating a sensation so invigorating that you clench around nothing, gasping, begging.

“Please…” Is all you manage to pant before you climax, a pathetic mewl sounding from your throat as you get off by slicking yourself over his hardness.

He hasn’t even sheathed himself within you, yet you’ve come undone – an action that elicits a rumbling groan, physically flipping you over, head gently hitting one of the expansive pillows. Rough fabric irritates the pads of fingers, running over embroidery before they’re firmly clutched, scrunching under your hold. 

Your god hovers between your legs, forcing them apart, his nails now digging into the fat of your thighs, gathering your shared exhilaration before two digits curl into you, immediately trapped between your walls when you clench at the intrusion.

“My wife.” He whispers, cool breath fanning your face.

And it isn’t until he lays his violet eye upon you – although your lips satiate his hunger – the flames of your touch singing his flesh, you realize that he did not love you.