#it’s this small shift in their expression in their demeanor in the set of their bottom jaw

[ceyanabbiolo]

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [16]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: angst

wc: 5172

Chapter 16: I love you, I'm sorry

“Matt, look this way!”

I turned my head slightly to the left, jaw clenched. The camera clicked three times in rapid succession.

“No—less intense. Soften your eyes. Tilt your chin. Can we get a more natural smile? Something warmer.”

I exhaled slowly through my nose. More natural? I wasn’t a damn mannequin.

The lights were too bright, the air too stuffy, and the photographer—some young, overly eager guy with a scarf and too much cologne—had been barking instructions for the past twenty minutes like I was a puppet on strings.

“Can you arch your back a little more? Maybe cross your arms? Looks like you’re brooding, but approachable?”

My patience was wearing thin. I’d been doing this long enough to know how to pose, and whatever this guy was trying to pull felt more like a high school film project than a fashion campaign.

“Matt, relax your shoulders, please. Right now you’re giving… CEO on trial.”

I blinked slowly. “I am a CEO.”

The guy laughed like it was charming. “Right, right—but less… intimidating. We want Matt Sturniolo, the man, not the empire.”

I was about to tell him exactly where to stick his ‘creative vision’ when I felt a soft hand touch my forearm.

I glanced over.

Daphne stood there, watching me. Her expression was calm, but I could see it—she noticed the tension in my jaw, the way my shoulders were locked. She knew me better than anyone. She could tell I was done.

She leaned closer, her voice low so only I could hear. “Should I help?”

I met her eyes, that familiar calm already steadying my pulse. I gave a small nod.

She smiled sweetly, then turned toward the photographer. 

“Hey,” she said kindly, “I think Matt just needs a second. He’s been shooting all morning. Can we reset the energy a little?”

The guy blinked, surprised by her tone—gentle but firm. “Oh uh, yeah. Of course.”

Daphne looked back at me, reaching up to fix a stray piece of hair near my temple, her fingertips lingering a second longer than necessary.

“You good?” she whispered.

I nodded slowly. “

Daphne gave me a quick peck before stepping fully into the space between the camera and me. Her demeanor changed like she belonged. 

“Let’s try something a little more relaxed,” she said gently, addressing the photographer and his assistant. “Matt looks best when he’s not over-posed. Maybe have him sit, lean back a little, and see natural lighting from the side?”

The assistant nodded, flipping through a clipboard of notes. The photographer looked uncertain, but curious.

Daphne turned back to me, already picturing the shot. “Take off the jacket,” she said softly. “And sit on the stool—yeah, just like that. One leg up, elbow resting on your knee. Look down for a second. Breathe.”

I followed her instructions, and for the first time since the shoot started, I didn’t feel like I was performing—I just felt like myself.

“Now look up at me,” she said.

I did.

The camera clicked.

The photographer blinked, then checked the screen. “Wait… that looks—hold on—this is good.”

Daphne stepped aside so he could keep shooting, but she stayed close, occasionally suggesting slight shifts in my angle, hands, and posture. Her voice was soft but certain, never overwhelming. She knew what she was doing, and everyone in the room could see it.

Within minutes, the entire tone of the shoot shifted. The energy settled. People were nodding along with her ideas, checking previews on the monitors, and whispering things like “this feels more high-end” and “the lighting works better here.” 

I caught her watching me between shots, her lips tilted into a knowing smile. 

The shoot wrapped quicker than expected after that. With Daphne's subtle direction and calm energy, everything flowed naturally. No more forced smiles, no more awkward poses—just good lighting, good angles, and a team that finally stopped micromanaging.

By the time we were done, the photographer was practically singing her praises.

“You’ve got a great eye,” he told her, packing up his lenses. “Have you ever thought about directing?”

Daphne smiled. “Not really. I just know what works for him.”

He nodded. “Well, it shows.”

I watched the interaction quietly, pride swelling in my chest. It didn’t surprise me—she had always seen me. But watching everyone else finally recognize what I already knew? That was something else.

We stepped out into the cool afternoon air. The sky was fading into soft golds and pale blues, the breeze tugging at Daphne’s hair as we approached the curb where my motorcycle was parked.

“Nice job,” I said, tossing her my extra helmet. It was hers at this point. 

She caught it with a grin. “Nice job to you, Mr. CEO-model hybrid.”

I smirked as I swung my leg over the bike. “You directing me is dangerous. You know I’d do anything you say.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she said, pulling the helmet on. “That’s why I try not to abuse the power.”

I reached over and tugged her gently toward me by the waist, helping her onto the seat behind me. Her arms wrapped around me as she settled in, close and warm.

“You good?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

I felt her nod. 

We rode through the city with golden light spilling between the buildings. Simple. Right. 

The ride through the city was smooth, the kind of quiet that came when words weren’t needed—just the wind, the hum of the engine, and the feeling of Daphne’s arms around me. By the time we pulled into the garage beneath my apartment building, the sun had started to dip low, casting golden streaks across the concrete.

We took the elevator up in comfortable silence. Daphne leaned her head against my shoulder, helmet in hand, clearly drained from the day. She hadn’t complained once, but I could tell she was tired.

As soon as I unlocked the front door, she made a beeline straight for the living room.

With a dramatic sigh, she dropped her bag by the side table, kicked off her shoes, and ran and collapsed onto the couch. 

“I’m never moving again.”

I shut the door behind us, amused. “Tired?”

“Exhausted,” she said into the cushions. “You were hot, the lighting was hot, the photographer was a lot…and this couch is so comfortable.”

I chuckled, setting our helmets down on the kitchen island. “Glad my furniture gets a 10 out of 10.”

Without another word, I slid down next to her, stretching out until we were chest to chest. The second I got comfortable, she shifted instinctively, curling into me like we were made to fit this way. My arm slipped under her neck, the other wrapping around her waist as I pulled her closer.

“Mm,” she hummed sleepily, pressing her forehead against my collarbone. “You’re warm.”

“Good,” I mumbled into her hair, my own eyes beginning to close. “’Cause I’m not moving either.”

She giggled softly, breath tickling my neck. 

Our noses bumped slightly, her leg still tangled with mine, and before I could say anything else, she leaned forward and kissed me, soft and slow. 

I kissed her back, just as lazily, my fingers sliding gently into her hair.

Half-awake and half-dreaming, we stayed like that—wrapped in each other, mouths meeting in slow, warm presses. Not rushed, not heated. Just love in its simplest form. Her hand slid across my chest, resting above my heart as we kissed between sleepy murmurs and quiet smiles.

“I could stay like this forever,” she whispered.

I tucked her closer, our foreheads resting together.

The afternoon slipped away quietly as Daphne and I dozed on the couch, tangled up in each other’s arms. Two hours must have passed, maybe more.

Then, suddenly, the doorbell rang. 

I groaned softly and glanced down at Daphne, who stirred beside me, eyes fluttering open in confusion.

“Are you expecting someone?” Daphne mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she shifted beside me.

I shook my head, pushing myself up from the couch. “No.”

The sudden weight of the unexpected knock pressed on me as I walked toward the door. My hand hovered over the handle, then I paused, peering through the peephole.

Fuck.

The familiar figure of Noah stared back at me from the other side.

Another firm knock sounded.

“Daphne,” I called softly, trying to keep my voice calm but low. “It’s Noah…”

She bolted upright instantly, eyes wide and alert. 

“Noah?” Her voice trembled. “He’s not supposed to be here till next week.”

I didn’t know what to say. 

“What do we say?” Panic laced her words.

“We could just tell him,” I offered gently, hoping to bridge the gap.

“Matt…” she whined, dread thick in her tone.

“Sweetheart, it’s been six months. He deserves to know,” I said quietly, trying to sound reasonable but firm.

“No, Matt. Not today,” she pleaded.

I felt the tension in the room tighten around us, the exhaustion from the day already pulling at my patience. I didn’t want to fight.

“Alright,” I sighed, conceding. “Just… go to my room, lock the door, okay?”

She nodded quickly and slipped away down the hallway.

I turned back to the door, about to open it, when my eyes caught the scattered evidence—her bag tossed by the chair, shoes kicked off near the doorway, hoodies draped over the back of the couch, and—gosh—her bra lying carelessly on the coffee table.

This wasn’t just a visit anymore. This was my life, tangled with hers in a way that couldn’t stay hidden forever.

Without wasting a second, I began gathering her things, stuffing them hurriedly into the closet. The familiar scent of her clothes mixed with the adrenaline in my veins.

As I shoved the last hoodie inside, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out—Noah’s name flashing across the screen.

Heart pounding, I swiped to answer.

“Wassup, man,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “Yeah, I’m here.”

I took a breath, then unlocked the door and opened it.

There he was—Noah Deniore. 

Her older brother. 

My best friend.

I was completely confused—he wasn’t supposed to be back so soon. He had just come and gone last month, after the cottage trip Daphne and I went on in March.

He stood in a hoodie and jeans, backpack slung over one shoulder, brows raised in that easy way he always had. “Took you long enough,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Yeah,” I replied, moving out of the way, trying to sound casual. “Was just—half asleep.”

He walked in, glancing around. “Place looks... lived-in.”

I gave a tight smile, watching him survey the room like he always did when he visited. I stood near the couch, subtly blocking the hallway that led to my room.

He didn’t notice.

Not yet.

Noah dropped his bag on the side chair and looked back at me.

“You’re back?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I leaned against the counter. “Again?”

Noah chuckled, shrugging out of his jacket. “Yeah. Decided to drop by for the weekend—figured it was time for a surprise visit.”

I gave a small nod, my expression careful. “Didn’t know you were planning that.”

He tossed his jacket onto the arm of the couch, casually looking around again. “I figured Daphne would be at home, but no one answered the door. I thought maybe she was out running errands or something, so I just headed here instead.”

My stomach twisted.

I forced a small smile. “Yeah, maybe. She’s been in and out a lot.”

Noah wandered to the window, glancing out at the skyline. “I haven’t talked to her in a while. Feels weird not knowing what she’s been up to lately. You’d think my sister would shoot me a text.”

I swallowed hard, then offered weakly, “She’s been… keeping busy.”

He turned back toward me, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You know what’s weird, though?”

Here it comes.

“What?”

He gestured around the apartment. “Your place smells like her.”

My jaw clenched.

The scent of that clean Jo Malone lily perfume. 

I laughed it off—awkward, stiff. 

“Yeah, she’s probably left some stuff around. She’s been over to help with some shoots, you know?”

Noah nodded slowly, but not calling me out yet either.

I glanced at the hallway. That walking lily was only a few meters away. 

“Want a drink?” I asked again, this time more pointed.

Noah gave me a look, but followed me toward the kitchen anyway.

I pulled two glasses from the cabinet, trying to act normal as I filled them with water. My hands moved steadily, but my mind was racing.

Noah leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed as he watched me closely.

“So…” he started, voice casual—but that kind of calm-before-the-storm casual I knew too well. “How’s your relationship with Daphne these days?”

I paused—just for a split second—but I made it feel like I was just thinking.

“What relationship?” I replied coolly, sliding his glass across the counter to him.

He smirked, lifting the glass but not drinking from it. “You know what I mean.”

I gave a little shrug, sipping from mine. “I mean, we work together. She’s been doing shoots for me—photography stuff.”

“Yeah. For like… what? Eight months now?” He raised a brow. “That’s a long time to be working so closely with someone.”

“Not that long,” I deflected.

He tilted his head. “Come on, man. She barely answers my texts, but she responds to yours in seconds. And she trusts you with everything. She used to only talk to me, and now she’s out doing shoots, coming out of her shell, working late hours—with you.”

I tried to keep my face neutral, but I felt the tension coil in my chest.

“She’s just… grown a lot,” I said simply. “That’s not all me.”

Noah gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Matt. I’m just trying to figure out… stuff.”

My mouth opened slightly, then closed again. For once, I didn’t have a clean answer. Because the truth sat just under my skin, and it wasn’t simple.

He wasn’t wrong.

But I couldn’t give it to him. Not yet.

Not like this.

I exhaled, trying to play it cool. “What are you trying to say, man?”

He looked up, tone gentler now. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, eyes steady. “But… are you seeing my sister?”

There it was. Direct. No dancing around it. 

I blinked once, then let out a short breath of a laugh. 

“No, Noah,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I’m not seeing Daphne.”

It was technically true. At least by his definition.

He studied me, but he didn’t push—just gave a slow nod, like he was still weighing whether or not to believe me. I kept my expression unreadable.

“I guess I just notice things,” he murmured. “She talks about you more than anyone else. She trusts you. And I’ve never seen her like that with anyone—not even the guy she dated back in London.”

I shrugged casually. “We work together a lot. She’s easy to be around.”

Another beat of silence passed, then Noah nodded again and clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright. Sorry if that was weird. Just…you know.”

I gave a quick nod back. “I get it.”

Noah didn’t leave right away.

After our little back-and-forth, he dropped onto the couch like he owned the place, stretching his arms over the backrest with a sigh.

“You got anything stronger than water?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

I huffed a laugh, already heading toward the kitchen. “Yeah. You still good with whiskey?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

I pulled out two glasses and grabbed the bottle from the cabinet. My hands were steadier now, but the lie—or half-truth—I told him was still echoing in my head. I poured the drinks and handed him one, watching him take a long sip like he’d needed it all day.

We fell into easy conversation, like we always did.. The familiar banter helped settle some of the tension in my chest. For a second, it almost felt normal.

Almost.

I just kept sipping my drink, giving short answers, laughing when I needed to.

Noah didn't push anymore, but I could see the gears still turning behind his eyes.

Around the third glass, he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and smirked. “You know, you’re the only person I trust to look out for her.”

I looked up slowly, that ache in my chest twisting just a bit tighter.

“Yeah?” I said, voice low.

He nodded, a little more serious now. “I know I doubted you, but to be fair, I know you’d never go there.” 

I looked away slowly. I had already gone there. 

“I know she’s grown, but… I still see that twelve-year-old kid sometimes.” he continued. 

I swallowed hard, setting my glass down. “She’s not that kid anymore, bro.”

“I know,” he said, leaning his head back against the couch. “But she’s still my kid, in some ways.”

I nodded, I got it. In some ways I do remember Noah sacrificing a lot for her after their parents died. 

Noah was quiet for a moment, twirling his now-empty glass in his hand before speaking up again.

“So… you wanna go out tonight?” he asked casually. “I know a bar not far from here. Girls, drinks, good music—the usual.”

I leaned back on the couch, already shaking my head. “Can’t tonight.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned. “Since when do you pass up a night out?”

I smirked a little, trying to keep it light. “Since I started having actual work to do, man.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Work? It’s Friday.”

“Still counts,” I said, standing to collect our glasses.

Noah tilted his head like he was studying me. “Or…” he dragged out the word, eyes gleaming now, “you’re not coming out because you’re already occupied.”

I let out a laugh, forcing it. “Yeah, alright.”

“I’m serious,” he grinned. “You’re acting different.”

“I’m always acting differently, apparently.”

He stood to stretch, wandering toward the hallway, and that’s when I saw it—

My stomach plummeted.

Right there.

In the corner of the living room.

Draped halfway behind the leg of the side table—

Her bra.

Fuck. Fuck.

Before I could even move, Noah spotted it.

“What the hell is—” He reached down, and before I could stop him, he was already holding it up by one strap, dangling it in the air with a bark of laughter.

“Bro,” he laughed. “No wonder you didn’t want to go out tonight.”

My heart was hammering so loud in my chest I couldn’t hear anything else.

He swung it playfully in the air, the pale strap slipping around his fingers. “Damn, this is like—what—double D? Triple? Jesus.”

I didn’t move.

I just stood as he held it, completely unaware that he was joking about his sister’s bra. Teasing me about the size of her chest. Laughing like it was all some game.

I didn’t know what to do. 

“Relax,” he chuckled, turning to toss it toward the couch. “Not judging. You’ve clearly had a good night.”

I walked forward quickly, scooping it off the cushion before he could touch it again. I shoved it into the closet silently, my pulse still racing, ears ringing.

Noah let out one last amused chuckle as he grabbed his jacket off the couch.

“You don’t have to be so uptight about it, man,” he said, still shaking his head. “We’re both adults. You’re a grown-ass man. If you’ve got someone keeping your nights busy—good for you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. 

I was still gripping the closet door handle, trying to regulate my breathing.

Noah didn’t notice.

He slung the jacket over his shoulder and headed toward the door. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it. Clearly, I walked in on something… mid-romantic.”

I gave a forced scoff, but it barely passed my lips.

He opened the door, then turned back one last time, grinning like a fool.

“Have a fun night,” he added, backing out into the hallway. “I’m gonna go see if Daphne’s home yet.”

My stomach dropped straight to hell.

The second I shut the door and heard his footsteps fade down the hallway, I turned around and ran a hand down my face, trying to calm myself.

But I couldn’t.

Not after that.

I stormed down the hallway, each step getting heavier as I reached the bedroom door. I pushed it open without knocking.

Daphne was sitting on the edge of my bed, legs tucked under her, chewing her thumbnail nervously.

Her eyes met mine the second I stepped inside.

“Well?” she asked quickly, voice tight. “What did he say? Why was he here?”

I shut the door behind me, leaned against it, arms crossed over my chest.

“He was just checking in. Said he wanted to visit for the weekend. Surprise everyone.”

She nodded slowly, her shoulders still tense. “Did he ask about me?”

I nodded. “He said he didn’t see you when he got to his apartment, said he figured you were out. So he came here.”

I paused.

“And then,” I added through gritted teeth, “he found your bra. On the floor.”

Her face went pale. “Matt–what.”

“Yeah,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Picked it up. Swung it around. Talked about the size.”

Her hand flew to her face.

I stepped forward. “Daphne, do you know how messed up that was? Do you know how sick I felt watching him laugh like that—not knowing—that he was holding something that belonged to his sister?”

She was silent. Her eyes welled up. But she didn’t say anything.

And I couldn’t take it anymore.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I said, my voice rising now. “We can’t keep sneaking around like this, acting like it’s nothing when it’s everything.”

She looked at me, shaken. “Matt—”

“No,” I said, sharper now. “He’s my best friend. You’re his sister. We’ve been together for six months, Daphne. Six months. You stay here more than your own place. Your things are everywhere. He’s not stupid.”

Her hands were shaking. “I know—but he’ll hate me. Matt, if we tell him like this—he’ll think I betrayed him.”

My hands went to my hair, tugging slightly in frustration.

“I’m tired, Daphne,” I said, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of hiding how much I love you—like it’s some kind of shame.”

She looked like she wanted to say something—then didn’t.

“I’m not mad at you,” I said again, my voice low but tight. “But I’m getting to a place where I can feel it building… the resentment.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, uncertain.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m just your boss, your friend. I sit across from him and talk like nothing’s going on, like I’m not in love with you, like I didn’t sleep next to you last night,” I said. “You know how that feels?”

She looked down, silent.

“This is what—his fifth visit since we got together?” I continued, my voice sharpening. “And he still doesn’t know.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I didn’t let her.

“Five visits, sweetheart. Five, and every time, I have to scramble to hide your clothes, act like I don’t know where you are, and smile when he talks about you.”

“Matt…” she said, barely a whisper.

“No,” I cut in, a little louder now. “I need to know—what are we waiting for??”

She swallowed hard. 

“Because I’m not ready,” she said. “Because I know Noah. He’s not just going to be shocked, he’s going to explode. You know how he is.”

I shook my head, backing up a step. “So what? We just keep pretending forever?”

“No—just… not now,” she insisted.

“Then when?” I snapped. “When we move in together? When he finds an engagement ring in your bag?”

She flinched.

The silence between us felt thick. Suffocating.

I exhaled, gripping the back of my neck. “I love you, Daphne. But I’m starting to feel like I’m being hidden. Like I’m something to be ashamed of.”

“No, Matt—” she stepped forward, reaching for me, but I pulled slightly back.

“Then why?” I asked, my voice breaking slightly. “Why are you still so scared to tell him? Do you not think we’re real?”

Her eyes filled with tears, her lips parted, but she didn’t answer right away.

I stared at her, chest rising and falling, waiting. 

I let out a breath through my nose, the air in the room feeling like it thickened with every second.

“You keep saying you’re not ready,” I said, my voice tight. “You’ve been saying that for months now, Daphne. How long do I have to wait until you are?”

Her mouth parted, her eyes wide—but she didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” I muttered, stepping back. “You keep asking me to be patient, to just wait—but you don’t get how it feels to be treated like some kind of secret. Like I’m something you’re ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of you!” she shot back, louder now.

“Then why?” I snapped, voice rising. “Why is it so damn hard to just tell him?”

“Do you just not trust me or something?” 

She looked at me, lips trembling, her voice barely holding.

“I do trust you,” she said. 

I let out a dry laugh, bitter and quiet. “No. You say that. But every time you pull away. You don’t let me in—”

“I told you about Carter, Matt,” she snapped, voice sharp with emotion. “Don’t stand there and tell me I don’t trust you.”

I shook my head, my voice low. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Yes, it is!” she shouted. “You’re making it sound like I’ve just been lying to you this whole time—like I don’t care about you enough to be honest.”

I exhaled through my nose, trying to hold myself together. “Daphne, I know you care about me. I know that. But this? This thing with Noah—it’s not just about you anymore. It’s about us.”

She turned away, pacing now. “And I’ve told you—I’m not ready.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “But when will you be?”

“I don’t know, okay?!” she snapped, spinning to face me again. “It’s not some switch I can flip!”

I stared at her, the frustration spilling out. “So what, I just keep being your secret until you feel safe enough to admit we exist?”

The air between us felt volatile.

Tense. Fragile.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said, pacing in front of her. “I’m exhausted, Daphne. I feel like I’m putting everything into this, and you’re just—hiding behind excuses.”

She flinched but didn’t speak.

And that silence lit something in me I wasn’t proud of.

“You know what it feels like?” I snapped. “It feels like I’m dating someone who only knows how to love when it’s convenient. When no one’s watching. It’s manipulating”

Her face shattered. 

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

I swallowed hard, chest hollow. “Daph—”

“You think I’m manipulating you?”

She was barely holding herself together. Her whole body shook as tears welled in her eyes, full and silent.

“I let you see everything,” she choked out. “All my pain and you think that was some kind of strategy? That I was using you?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You think what happened to me made me some kind of broken girl who just clings onto whoever’s closest?”

“No—”

“You think I’m acting this way on purpose?” Her voice cracked violently, her cheeks now soaked. “That I want to be scared? That I like not being able to face my own brother and tell him I’m happy?”

I tried to speak, but no words came. I felt frozen. Like I’d just burned the only bridge I ever cared about crossing.

She turned away, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I can’t believe I let you see me.”

She headed for the door, and this time—she wasn’t walking. 

She was speeding.

“Daphne,” I said quickly, chasing after her. “Please—I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, I just—I was angry—”

She was at the door already, shoving her shoes on through shaky hands, breathing so fast it scared me.

“Daphne—”

“Don’t,” she said, voice sharp and choked. “Don’t you dare follow me.”

"I messed up. I know I did. Just let me explain—"

But she was already moving, walking away down the long hallway toward the elevator. I hesitated, afraid to reach out and touch her—afraid of making things worse.

Still, without thinking, I followed, matching her pace. She hadn’t even made it halfway from my door when I reached out and caught her arm.

This time, I grabbed her hand, pulling her gently but firmly until her back pressed against my chest.

“Let go,” she whispered, voice trembling, heartbreak still raw in her words.

But I didn’t. Instead, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into me.

She struggled, pushing against me softly, tears streaming down her face, a desperate mix of pain and confusion.

“Please,” I murmured into her hair. “I love you, I'm sorry.”

Her soft gasps trembled against my chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I whispered, voice thick with regret. “That came out all wrong—so, so wrong.”

She trembled in my arms as I continued, “You’re not manipulating me. I don’t know why the hell I said that.”

Her voice was barely audible as she whispered back, “But… you think it, don’t you?”

Panic surged through me. “No, no, no,” I said urgently, tightening my hold. “Please, stop crying. I love you. I love you—all of you. I don’t think that, sweetheart.” 

Her eyes searched mine, filled with tears and something I couldn’t quite reach.

 “Matt… I just need some space.”

Panic surged through me like a wave crashing hard against a fragile shore. 

“Space? why—please, I can fix this.”

She shook her head, voice trembling. “It’s not about fixing anything right now. I need to think.”

“No,” I said, voice cracking. 

“We don’t have to tell Noah.” I said, compromising. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Just don’t push me away like this.”

She flinched at my words, as if my desperation cut her deeper.

“Matt,” she whispered, “I’m not pushing you away. I’m trying to keep myself together.”

My chest tightened, breath catching in my throat.

“I love you,” I begged, voice raw. “Space is what people say when they break up.”

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she turned her face away.

“I love you too,” she added softly, “I just… I have to go home right now. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

I hesitated, torn between holding her close and letting her go. Reluctantly, I nodded.

She took a small step back, wiping her tears, and without looking back, stepped into the elevator as the doors began to close. 

I stood there, heart pounding, watching the doors slide shut between us. 

I don’t know what I fear more now. 

Losing the woman I love, or telling her brother about us.

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[a/n: I warned you all about the angst. womp womp. Like, comment, and reblog! i love you, mwah] –ceyana

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[nochepsicodelica]

The door to your shared bedroom creaks open, and Toji is greeted by the sight of you sleeping. It's five in the afternoon and you're bundled up in the covers, soft breaths exiting through your mouth because your nose is congested. You look all cozy, like a hibernating bear, on his side of the bed. It would be a more adorable sight under different circumstances, but this is the product of you catching a cold.

Toji sets the small bag filled with your medicine and other little things he hopes will make you feel better, on his nightstand. He crouches down in front of you and brings a noticeably cooler hand to your heated cheek.

"Hey," Toji calls, gently pinching your cheek. Your hearing must be muffled, because you don't budge and remain in your deep sleep. "Ma," he tries again, shaking you by your shoulder this time. You stir and attempt to roll over in the other direction, towards the center of the bed, but Toji keeps you steady by tugging on the blanket you're cocooned in. "Wake up, mama. Just for a little. I got your stuff. Medicine, snacks— you probably won't be able to taste them, but they're there."

You open your eyes, and simply blink. The room is darker and more shadowy since you went down for your supposed nap. It's been hours, but your body still feels so tired and your head is pulsing.

"How are you feeling?" Toji asks.

You were trying to say "so so", but no sound came out, so it seemed like you were mouthing the words instead. You felt the effort your vocal cords made, but your voice was shot. Nothing is audible unless it's strained. A huff and a roll of your eyes let Toji know how bad of a time you were having.

"Gotcha," Toji responds to your attempt to speak, a soft smile on his face.

He stands up from his crouched position and turns to the bag on his nightstand, rummaging through it to grab the box of medicine at the bottom and your water bottle. He sees you untangling yourself from the covers and sitting up to rest against the headboard, in his peripheral vision. Your hair is messy, some of it is stuck to your forehead from how much you've been sweating, even though you've felt cold the whole time. You can't breathe properly out of your nose, and your throat is sore. Your entire demeanor just screams "sick".

Toji offers you two gel capsules and twists the cap off your bottle of water, before handing it to you as well. You toss the pills into your mouth, and wash them down with a swig of water. In an attempt to clear your nose, you sniff a few times, getting absolutely no change in your ability to breathe through your nose.

"Go back to sleep. I'll get you some soup for when you wake up, 'kay?"

You nod and set your water bottle down on Toji's nightstand, before you slide back down the bed and shift comfortably onto your side. The blanket is wrapped around you, again, and you're ready to shut your eyes. Toji comes closer, crouching down like he did when he woke you up.

"Mm-mm," you hum, the sound cracked and barely audible, a response to Toji leaning in and trying to kiss you.

"Come on, ma. It's been a whole day. Just one. A peck?"

"No," you whisper, only able to communicate verbally in this hushed voice.

"Oh. You want me to have two?" He says, with a playful smirk.

You give him a deadpan expression and shift in the blanket, bringing it up to cover your mouth.

"Okay, fine. Just one."

You shake your head, minimally. Just enough so that you don't shake your brain and make your head hurt even more, and he still gets the message.

"Be nice, mama. Just one, then i'll leave you alone--" he pauses, briefly, "--until I come back with your soup. Then you gotta give me another one. You know, Toji Tax."

You roll your eyes and huff. The Toji Tax is just Toji's way of getting extra loving from you. There's a Toji Tax on just about everything he does for you, so you're not surprised that your sickness doesn't exempt you from it.

Your reaction showed the signs that let Toji know that he's about to get what he wants. The barrier you raised over your mouth is lowered, your involuntary pout now on full display, ready to be kissed whenever Toji's ready.

"Don't look too excited," Toji jests. He chuckles at the gloomy expression on your face. You look absolutely miserable in this state. It's adorable, and while he would love to keep teasing you, he decides to move faster so that you can get your rest.

It starts with a peck—as promised. He's slow with separating his lips from yours, to keep the contact with you going for as long as possible. Then he goes in for another one—just as gentle and delayed in separation. You still haven't done anything to stop him, so he keeps going in for more and more, each kiss more fervent than the last. Within seconds, he's barraging you with quick kisses, back to back, as if to make up for the last twenty-four hours he went without feeling your soft lips against his. He's getting closer, almost climbing into bed with you, so you hum and turn your head. He starts following your movement, like an eager puppy, chasing after more of your kisses.

"Don't care if I get sick, ma."

You hum in disapproval and push his face away when he starts leaning in, again. Quickly, you cover your head with the blanket and roll to the other side of the bed.

Toji sighs, a mischievous smirk lingering on his face. He got way more than he expected, but when it comes to you, he can never have enough. He stands up from the awkward position he got himself into while he chased after your lips, and looks at your bundled up figure, now out of his reach.

"I'll be back, doll. Gonna go get your soup, but remember... Toji Tax."

[eiloveir]

→﹐naruto imagines !

naruto men and their jealous streaks

genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff—very romantic

characters: uzumaki naruto, uchiha sasuke, nara shikamaru, gaara

warnings: none, aside from the potential cringe and the relationship dynamics

author’s note: this idea sprang from a post i saw on pins (again)

uzumaki naruto

“is everything alright? you seem a bit off,” you asked him, concern evident in your voice. he had been his usual cheerful self, but when you both said your goodbyes to the people of sunagakure, his behavior had shifted dramatically. he hadn’t uttered a single word since then, and his silence was starting to worry you. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to cause this sudden change in him. but he didn’t answer right away. instead, he folded his arms across his chest and slouched slightly, his shoulders sagging. he turned to look at you, his eyes holding is something else you couldn’t quite place. his mouth was set in a pout, lips pursed tightly, making it clear that he was upset about something. his expression was a far cry from his usual upbeat and energetic self.

“you don’t do that with me...” he mumbled under his breath, but his voice was just loud enough for you to hear. “the... what?” you asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. you could sense the tension emanating from him as he shifted uncomfortably beside you. his eyes flitted towards you, searching for some sign that you were pretending not to understand. when he realized that your confusion was genuine, he let out a sigh and averted his gaze. “why do you talk with him that way?” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his sudden question. his behavior was so unlike his usual self, and you struggled to understand the root of his discomfort. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. his sulky demeanor was puzzling, leaving you to wonder why he was so unsettled over what seemed like a minor issue. naruto fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with having to vocalize his romantic feelings. he toyed with the hem of his jacket, his gaze fixed on the ground. “when you talk to him,” he began hesitantly, “it’s different. you’re... softer, kinder, almost like you’re more patient with him. it feels like... like you don’t talk to me that way.” as his words sank in, you began to understand what made him act like that. seeing him like this, open and hurt, tugged at your heart. you reached out, gently placing a reassuring hand on his arm, “naruto,” you said softly, “you mean a lot to me. i had no idea i was speaking differently to him. maybe it’s just because i’m trying to be respectful. but that doesn’t mean you’re any less important to me. you have a special place in my heart, always." he lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes reflecting a roller coaster of emotions—relief, doubt, and hope. a small, hesitant smile began to form on his lips, and he leaned in slightly, seeking the comfort and reassurance of your presence. “really?” “really,” you confirmed, giving his arm a squeeze. “you’re special to me in ways you can’t even imagine.” his expression softened further, and he let out a deep breath, as if releasing the jealousy he had been carrying. his earlier sulkiness melted away, replaced by a shy, contented smile that made your heart flutter. he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he sought solace in your closeness.

uchiha sasuke

“i’m not upset,” he said, though his tone betrayed him completely. the words were delivered within a composed manner, but beneath the surface, there was an edge—a trace of irritation that he was trying, and failing, to mask with an air of indifference.

you watched him closely, your own expression of skepticism. raising an eyebrow, you crossed your arms over your chest in a gesture that was both defensive and doubtful. his posture was a clear signal that you weren’t buying into his attempt at denial. “sure,” you replied, your voice thick with irony and disbelief. “you’re not upset.”

he exhaled a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, slowly turning his head away from your gaze. “i’m fine,” he insisted again, though his voice lacked the strength and certainty it usually carried, betraying his true state. the rigid tension in his shoulders and the way his stance became unnaturally tense suggested he was preparing for a confrontation he was clearly not eager to face. an air of unease enveloped him, and it was impossible for you not to be drawn to the sight of this usually composed uchiha, now so visibly disturbed. the very essence of his discomfort piqued your curiosity, making you wonder what could have unsettled him.

you tilted your head, examining him with a more scrutinizing gaze. although his expression remained a carefully maintained mask of neutrality, his eyes—dark and turbulent—spilled secrets of struggle he could scarcely conceal. despite his repeated claims of being fine, it was evident that something was troubling him. with a decision to probe a bit more, you leaned in slightly, a mischief dancing at the corners of your mouth. “you know, for someone who insists they’re not upset, you’re coming across as unusually grumpy right now.”

sasuke’s response was immediate. his eyes momentarily flashed with irritation, and he shot you a look — powerful enough to make most people instinctively retreat. “i’m not grumpy," he snapped back, but the low, grumbling quality of his voice did little to support his assertion. the sharpness and defensiveness in his tone only served the truth of what you had already surmised—something had clearly gotten under his skin, and he was making a strenuous effort to conceal his discomfort.

you let out a soft chuckle, feeling a strange sort of affection for his defensiveness. it wasn’t every day that sasuke allowed himself to lower his guard enough to show his true feelings, and it was even rarer for him to be visibly unsettled by something that seemed so minor. this glimpse into a side of him that was usually hidden from view brought a sense of pleasure to the moment. “it’s actually kind of charming,” you teased, your eyes dancing with amusement as you took in his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

sasuke’s glare grew more intense, yet you couldn’t miss the subtle blush that began to rise on his cheeks in response to your words. he swiftly turned his head, clearly attempting to conceal his embarrassment. “shut up,” he muttered, though his voice was softer than usual, lacking its typical edge. the vulnerability in his tone tugged at your heart, even as you maintained your playful teasing.

you couldn’t help but grin, feeling an irresistible urge to push his buttons a bit more. there was something endearing about seeing sasuke, who usually projected an air of composed detachment and aloofness, becoming flustered over something so seemingly insignificant. it was clear to you now that his irritation wasn’t just a reaction to your teasing but stemmed from a more personal place. perhaps he was feeling a a pang of jealousy—an emotion he rarely displayed openly. seeing him struggle to maintain his usual facade while clearly bothered by the situation made the moment all the more entertaining. “aw, come on, sasuke. don’t be like that,” you said, your tone light and playful. “it’s okay to admit that you’re jealous, you know.”

at the mention of jealousy, sasuke’s head jerked back towards you, his eyes widening in surprise and a blush crept across his cheeks. “jealous?” he said, clearly flustered by embarrassment. “what do i have to be jealous about?”

you shrugged casually, maintaining your smile as you observed him with a keen eye. “you tell me,” you replied in a calm and tone, “it seems like there’s something bothering you, or should i say, someone bothering you?” you added with a teasing edge, your gaze fixed on him, searching for any subtle hints that might reveal the true cause of his agitation.

sasuke’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and he tried to mask his embarrassment with a scowl. “i’m not jealous,” he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant gesture. yet, his reluctance to meet your gaze betrayed him, making him appear almost like a child caught in a lie, desperately clinging to his facade. you couldn’t help but smirk, clearly seeing through his tough exterior. “really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful glint in your eye. “then why do you get all grumpy whenever i talk to someone else?” you took a step closer, closing the gap between you. the warm, charged atmosphere between you made his struggle to maintain composure all the more evident. sasuke’s glare deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that resembled uncertainty. “i don’t get grumpy,” he growled, his voice a low, petulant rumble. yet, as he spoke, you noticed the way his jaw tightened and the slight tremor in his hands as he clenched them into fists. you snickered, thoroughly entertained by his defensiveness. “oh, you do, actually,” you countered, taking another step closer. the warmth radiating from him and the thick tension in the air made the moment feel charged. “you get all moody and irritable when i talk to other people. it’s kind of adorable.” sasuke’s eyes widened at your comment, and for a brief moment, he seemed lost for words. “what do you mean ‘adorable’?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly in pitch. you moved even closer, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “well, it’s cute seeing you all pouty and jealous,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner. the playful teasing seemed to throw sasuke off balance, and he took a small step back. sasuke’s face flushed even more as you continued to tease him. he opened his mouth to retort, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “i’m not pouting,” he protested weakly, though the pout in his voice was undeniable. the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. you chuckled, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. “oh, you definitely are,” you said, closing the final distance between you until you were standing right in front of him. reaching out, you gently tapped his nose with your finger, a gesture that made him flinch slightly. for a moment, sasuke looked like he was about to argue further, but then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping in defeat. his cheeks were still burning with embarrassment, but he finally relented. “fine,” he muttered, looking down at the ground to avoid your gaze. “i am jealous. okay?” he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. when he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “it’s just... whenever you talk to someone else, i can’t help but feel annoyed. like they’re taking your attention away from me.” his admission was quiet and vulnerable, making your heart ache with a mixture of sympathy and affection. sasuke’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours, and you saw the sincerity in his eyes. “i don’t want to feel like this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i can’t help it. it’s like... i want you all to myself.”

nara shikamaru

shikamaru’s gaze was sharp, a steely glint in his dark eyes that pierced through the quiet hum of the room. his brow furrowed, deepening the lines on his forehead, and his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. the weight of his scrutiny was noticable, and it felt as though the very air between you crackled with an unspoken accusation. he stood with an air of nonchalance that belied the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior, his arms crossed firmly over his chest in a stance that spoke of both confrontation and a subtle, guarded defensiveness. his fingers tapped impatiently against his biceps, a gesture that conveyed his agitation despite his otherwise relaxed posture. “the hell was that?” he demanded, the question hung in the air. the way he pronounced the words made it clear he was not merely curious but genuinely perturbed. it was as if he had caught you in the middle of deception and now sought an explanation that you were not entirely prepared to offer. his tone had a biting edge to it, the kind that suggested he was not in the mood for excuses or evasions. you stood there, attempting to maintain a façade of innocence, though you could feel the telltale signs of discomfort creeping into your demeanor. the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly, a smirk that you struggled to suppress. you knew exactly what he was referring to, the stunt you had pulled earlier—a move so calculated and audacious that it was almost as if you had choreographed it with the intention of provoking a reaction. the very thought of his jealousy bubbling beneath the surface was almost amusing, though you maintained your composure with practiced ease. “what?” you replied, feigning ignorance with a slowness, the memory of the earlier incident was so distant that you needed to retrieve it from the recesses of your mind. the subtle arch of your eyebrows and the slight widening of your eyes were all part of the act, a display of confusion that was more theatrical than genuine. his eyes narrowed further, and his expression hardened as he stared you down. the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his struggle to contain his irritation, and the silence that followed was thick with the tension of unspoken words. he seemed to be grappling with his emotions—jealousy and frustration—as he waited for your response. “the thing you did earlier,” his gaze remained fixed on you, a demand for an explanation that would either placate his concerns or further ignite his displeasure. the accusation was implicit, wrapped in the layers of his carefully controlled demeanor, and it was clear that he was waiting for you to explain mystery behind your earlier actions.

his words caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat as if it had been yanked into a sudden stop. the intensity in his gaze revealed that he was acutely aware of the event that had taken place earlier. you knew, with a feeling, that he was referring to the kiss you had planted on choji’s cheek—a mischievous act that you and the others had planned with the intention of testing his reaction. it was a prank meant to stir up some emotions and see if shikamaru could be nudged out of his usually imperturbable demeanor. your own curiosity had driven you to participate, intrigued by the prospect of seeing the usually unflappable strategist display a hint of jealousy. tilting your head slightly to one side, you allowed a coy smile to surface, a playful glint in your eyes that you hoped would mask your true understanding of the situation. “what stunt? i just gave choji a friendly kiss on the cheek,” you said, the words slipping out with feigned innocence. even as you spoke, you could feel the tightrope of deception you were walking on, knowing full well the motive behind your action.

“yeah, sure,” he said, the sarcasm in his tone sharp and unmistakable. “because kissing someone on the cheek is a completely normal way to be friendly.” His voice dripped with disdain, the sarcasm was heavy, the sort that carried an implicit critique of your attempt to trivialize the situation. his eyes narrowed, a storm of emotions flickering within his gaze.

you could not help but chuckle, a sound that was part amusement, part nervousness. the realization that shikamaru was not fooled by your act was relief and further tension. his reaction was as potent as you had hoped, the jealousy you had intended to provoke now clearly visible in his demeanor. “okay, okay, you caught me,” you admitted with a playful sigh, raising your hands in a gesture of mock surrender. the smirk on your face widened as you leaned slightly forward, your shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “it was just a prank.”

his expression softened just slightly as he rolled his eyes with exasperation. his arms, still crossed tightly over his chest, seemed to loosen a bit, though the trace of annoyance remained etched on his face. “a prank, huh?” “yeah, a harmless one,” you replied with a playful smile dancing on your lips, trying to diffuse the tension. “sakura, ino, and i thought it’d be funny to see if we could make you jealous.”

a small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth—his gaze, however, remained locked onto you with a level of intensity that suggested he was not entirely dismissing the matter. “and was it funny?” he questioned, it was pointed, as though he was challenging you to justify the prank, to explain whether it had indeed succeeded in its aim of provoking a reaction. you couldn’t help but tease, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “well, it’s a bit entertaining seeing you get all worked up,” you admitted with a grin, “but i didn’t mean to make you feel anything other than jealousy, and i wouldn’t do anything to hurt you intentionally.” the reassurance came with a warm tone, you wanted to ensure that despite the prank’s impact, your intentions had never been to cause genuine harm or distress. “not like it meant anything?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, “you’re my girlfriend. i don’t appreciate other guys getting close to you like that, even if they’re just friends.” the words came out more forcefully than he probably intended. you raised an eyebrow at his overt display of jealousy, a small, secretive thrill running through you. the fact that your plan had worked was evident in his reaction, and you couldn’t help but take a bit of pleasure in seeing him so visibly affected. “is someone getting a little possessive?” you teased, stepping closer to him with a confident stride. you traced a finger along the collar of his shirt.

his eyes narrowed further at your touch, though a subtle hint of a blush began to creep up his cheeks. he seemed to be fighting a smile, the struggle apparent in the tight line of his lips and the faint flush of color on his face. “i’m just saying, you don’t see me going off and kissing any girls on the cheek, do you?” he retorted, his voice lowering slightly as if he were trying to keep his irritation in check. you laughed, thoroughly enjoying the playful exchange. “well, maybe you should. it’s not like i would get jealous or anything,”

he rolled his eyes, clearly not buying into your facade. “oh, please. you’d be mad as hell if i went around kissing other girls.”

gaara

gaara had always considered himself immune to jealousy or the idea of love itself, believing that such emotions were beyond his reach. that was, until you entered his life, almost as if scripted by fate. your presence stirred feelings within him that he had long thought inaccessible. now, he found himself grappling with an unsettling jealousy when he witnessed you and his brother, kankuro, engaging in playful banter right before him. he made a conscious effort to disregard the lively interactions between you and kankuro, attempting to ignore the way you both teased each other so effortlessly. yet, despite his best efforts, he could not suppress the rising tide of jealousy and possessiveness coursing through him. the sight of you laughing and enjoying yourself in kankuro’s company felt like a painful irritant, no matter how hard he tried to remain indifferent. his fists tightened into clenched knots as he observed you from the periphery of his vision. as kankuro’s teasing continued, gaara's frustration only intensified. he attempted to dismiss his growing irritation, but the heat in his cheeks and the tension in his jaw betrayed his internal struggle. eventually, gaara could no longer tolerate the scene unfolding beside him. the casual, affectionate banter between you and kankuro became unbearable, prompting him to rise from his seat, unable to mask his growing annoyance any longer.

“kankuro, knock it off,” he snapped, his voice taut with irritation. the lively, carefree banter between you and kankuro came to an abrupt halt, and the room fell into a heavy silence. the air was thick with the sudden tension that gaara’s commanding tone had injected. kankuro’s smirk faltered for a split second as he turned his attention to his brother, his expression shifting to one of feigned innocence. “oh, come on, bro. we’re just having a little fun,” kankuro said, his voice oozing with casual nonchalance. you looked up at gaara, your heart thudding in your chest. his reaction was intense, a side of him you hadn’t seen before. his irritation was noticable, and it was evident that he was struggling to mask the emotions simmering beneath the surface. gaara’s jaw tightened, his features hardening as he fixed a steely gaze on kankuro. “cut it out, kankuro. you’re being annoying,” he said, voice devoid of warmth and edged with frustration. the sharpness in his tone cut through the room, making it clear that he was no longer in the mood for light-hearted banter. kankuro raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his seat with exaggerated nonchalance. “oh, am i annoying you, lil bro? it seems like someone’s feeling a bit jealous…” gaara’s irritation flared, his fists clenching into tight, white-knuckled balls. he turned to face kankuro fully, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “i’m not jealous,” he asserted, though the strained quality of his voice betrayed the falsehood in his declaration. kankuro’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on his brother. “oh really? then why are you so worked up? you’re practically vibrating with anger.” his face flushed with ffrustration and embarrassment. he knew kankuro’s words were striking close to the truth, but admitting it felt like a defeat he wasn’t willing to accept. “that’s beside the point!” he snapped, his voice rising in volume. “just stop being such an idiot and leave us alone.” kankuro leaned back even further, crossing his arms and adopting an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose. “‘us? so it’s ‘us’ now?” he noticed the shift in your expression, the slight frown on your lips, and his grin grew wider, clearly reveling in the situation. sensing that the situation was escalating further, kankuro decided to heed gaara’s command. “alright, alright, i get it,” he said, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “my bro’s here is getting a bit too worked up for my taste. i know when i’m not wanted.” with a cheeky grin and a playful wink aimed directly at you, he made his exit, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the now quiet room. with kankuro gone, the atmosphere in the room felt almost eerily still. the laughter and playful energy that had filled the space were replaced by a heavy, uncomfortable silence. gaara’s gaze remained fixed on the empty space where kankuro had been, his jaw still clenched tightly. after a tense moment of silence, gaara finally turned to face you. “sorry about that,” he muttered, his voice softer than before. he seemed unsure of how to handle the sudden shift in the dynamic between you two. you took a step closer, your eyes filled with concern. you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm, your touch tender and soothing. “it’s okay, gaara,” you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth meant to reassure him. “i didn’t realize it would bother you so much.” gaara shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, his eyes darting back to you. “i didn’t mean to overreact,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a quieter, more vulnerable tone. “it’s just… i don’t like seeing you so close to someone else. it makes me feel… unsettled.” a small, understanding smile touched your lips as you moved even closer, your hand gently cupping his cheek. “gaara, you don’t have to be jealous. you know i care about you deeply,”

his eyes softened at your reassurance, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “i know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just hard for me sometimes. i haven’t felt like this before, and it’s… new.” you nodded, the vulnerability in his confession resonating deeply with you. “it’s new for me too,” you admitted, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. “but i want you to know that you’re the one i choose. you’re important to me, and that won’t change.”

[xobunni0]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

౨ৎ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡.. after an encounter with eggman leaves you and shadow stranded in a forest, he shows you just how much you mean to him.

- 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰, 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐜- 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟗, more—> bf!shadow

the forest was eerily silent, Shadow’s crimson eyes scanned the trees for threats his ears twitching at every faint sound

as night fell, the temperature dropped, and you began to shiver despite your best efforts to stay warm

“We’ll rest here” he declared, stopping in a small clearing. he set out gathering sticks and dried leaves, before long he had a small fire going. you sat close to the flames your arms wrapped around your knees. Shadow joined you, sitting just close enough that your shoulders brushed. for a while the two of you sat in silence the crackling fire providing the only comfort in the otherwise quiet forest.

“you’re trembling” Shadow muttered, his voice low and filled with concern

“It’s just the cold” you replied, though the truth was that the day’s events had left you shaken. being stranded in the middle of nowhere with no plan wasn’t exactly comforting even if you trusted Shadow completely.

shadow shifted closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. his body was surprisingly warm and you leaned into him instinctively, your head resting against his chest. his other hand found yours, his gloved fingers intertwining with your own

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said firmly, “Not here, not ever.”

you glanced up at him, surprised because Shadow rarely expressed himself openly.

“I know” you whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze

despite the crackling fire, it did little to ease the ache in your body. the fight with eggman had been brutal, and the hard landing in the forest didn’t help. your muscles were sore, your head was pounding, and the shallow cuts on your arms and legs stung as the cool night air nipped at your skin.

“you’re bleeding” Shadow said suddenly his voice sharp

you followed his gaze to a thin line of red trailing down your forearm

“It’s nothing” you said quickly brushing it off. “Just a scratch.”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed “Don’t downplay it.” before you could protest, he was on his feet rummaging through the small satchel you always carried

he returned with a strip of cloth and a small bottle of alcohol. “Give me your arm” he said firmly, kneeling in front of you.

“Shadow, I don’t…”

“Don’t argue.” his tone left no room for protests, but there was a gentleness in the way he took your arm, his gloved fingers holding it carefully

you sighed, giving in as he uncapped the bottle of alcohol. “This might sting” he warned, glancing up at you briefly before dabbing the cold liquid onto your wound

you winced as the alcohol burned but Shadow’s grip remained firm, his thumb brushing small circles against your skin in what you suspected was an attempt to comfort you

“Sorry” he murmured. so softly you almost didn’t catch it

“It’s fine” you replied, watching him as he worked. his usual demeanor had softened

after cleaning the wound he carefully wrapped the cloth around your arm, tying it securely but not too tightly. he inspected it one last time before releasing your arm satisfied with his work

“there” he said simply, sitting back on his heels

“thank you” you said, smiling faintly

“didn’t know you were so good at this”

Shadow’s ears twitched and he looked away, a slight hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “i’ve had to patch myself up enough times” he muttered. “It’s… different when it’s you.”

you blinked caught off guard. “different how?”

he hesitated, his gaze fixed on the fire “You’re not like me. You shouldn’t have to deal with pain like this. If I can take care of you, I will.”

the sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. you reached out placing a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. “Shadow, I don’t need you to protect me from everything. Just… stay with me. That’s all.”

his eyes softened as he leaned into your touch, his larger hand covering yours. “I’ll stay” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper

the fire crackled between you, its warmth nothing in comparison to the feeling of his hand in yours and the way his gaze was on you. for a moment the forest and the uncertainty of everything faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment

Shadow moved closer, his free hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face

Shadow’s gloved fingers lingered near your face after brushing the stray strand of hair away. his eyes softened as they met yours, the glow of the fire reflecting faintly in his gaze. for a moment he didn’t say anything and you wondered if he was simply lost in thought. but then he spoke quiet, low and almost hesitant

“You’re… beautiful.”

his words hung in the air, so soft and unexpected that you almost thought you imagined them. Shadow, the hedgehog who rarely let his guard down was staring at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered

your heart skipped a beat “hm?”

his ears twitched slightly, and a faint blush tinted his cheeks, but his gaze never left yours “You’re beautiful” he repeated, his voice steadier this time

your chest tightened at your boyfriends’ sweet words. you opened your mouth to respond but no words came out.. what could you even say to that?

“I know I don’t say things like this often” Shadow began, his hand brushing against your cheek now, the gesture so tender. “But… you mean more to me than I can ever put into words. And seeing you hurt- it makes me realize how much i’d do to keep you safe.”

your throat felt tight as you reached up, covering his hand with yours. “Shadow… you don’t have to say anything. I already know.”

he shook his head slightly “No, you deserve to hear it. you deserve to know how much you’ve changed me, how much you matter too me .”

the small fire cast a warm glow over his face highlighting every soft curve and sharp angle. you couldn’t help but smile a warmth filling your chest “Even when you’re trying to act all tough, you’re… so sweet with me.”

Shadow let out a quiet huff almost like a laugh his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’re the only one who’s ever seen me this way” he admitted. “And I think… I like it.”

you leaned forward, your hand still resting over his “Good” you said softly. “Because I like you this way too. All of you”

his gaze lingered on you for a moment before he leaned in pressing a soft kiss to your forehead

Shadow pulled away. “I’ll set up a place for us to rest” he said, standing up and looking around the clearing

you watched as he moved, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area his usual seriousness had crumbled from the care he’d been showing you all night. Shadow always seemed so distant to others but when it was just the two of you he was different.. more vulnerable, more affectionate.

he gathered a few fallen branches and large leaves arranging them in a small makeshift bed on the soft ground. when he returned to you he extended his hand his eyes softening as he met yours

“Come” he said, his voice gentle now. “It’ll be more comfortable than sitting by the fire all night.”

you took his hand without hesitation. feeling the warmth of his touch as he helped you to your feet. your body was still sore and it ached. as you moved toward the makeshift bed Shadow followed. it wasn’t much but the effort he put into making it as comfortable as possible didn’t go unnoticed

Shadow lay down beside you, his usually guarded demeanor now much more relaxed in the quiet of the forest. there was a brief moment of silence between the two of you before he shifted pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist to draw you into his warmth

the contact was comforting, you could feel the heat from his body seep into yours, melting away any chill in your body

you let out a soft sigh, your back resting against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart reminded you how much he adored and cared about you

“is this okay?” Shadow asked quietly his voice barely above a whisper. it was the first time he’d seemed uncertain, though the way he held you told you something else

you turned your head slightly to look at him, catching the rare softness in his eyes as he waited for your response. it was so unlike Shadow to ask for reassurance but the moment felt incredibly intimate and you could feel his hesitation.

“Yes, it’s perfect” you murmured, shifting so you could look at him fully “I feel safe with you.”

his gaze softened, and for a moment you saw something , the affection that he rarely let slip

you smiled softly, reaching up to gently touch his cheek

he leaned into your touch, his eyes softly closing shut for just a moment and when he opened them again, they were filled with warmth. “Rest” he murmured, his arm tightening slightly around you pulling you even closer “I’ll keep you safe.”

as the warmth of Shadow’s body surrounded you, you felt a sense of comfort. the quiet hum of the night and the crackling fire were the only sounds that filled the area around you but in his arms, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be

Shadow shifted slightly, his body moving closer until his breath ghosted against your neck. you felt his nose gently nudge the crook of your neck and his warm, soft fur brushed against your skin as he nuzzled in. the action so intimate and affectionate, made your heart flutter it was a rare gesture from Shadow one that you could tell he didn’t often show to anyone else.

for a long moment he was still, just resting against you. his breath steady and calm as if he found peace in the simple act of being close to you. his arm tightened around your waist pulling you even closer as though trying to keep you in place, safe and warm

you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against your back, and the longer you stayed pressed against him the more you felt yourself drifting. his warmth keeping you protected from the cold night air

“Goodnight” Shadow murmured softly his voice barely above a whisper. it was the gentlest you’d ever heard him sound and you could hear the affection in his words

“Goodnight, Shadow.” you replied, your voice soft, your body relaxing in his arms

as your eyelids grew heavy the gentle pressure of his body against yours made it impossible to stay awake any longer. his warmth and the l beat of his heart lulled you into a peaceful slumber, every worry slipping away as you let yourself drift into sleep

in his arms you knew you were safe, and as the night passed his hand stayed gently resting on your waist, his thumb brushing faint circles into your side. Shadow stayed awake, his gaze never leaving the darkness of the forest making sure that nothing would disturb your sleep.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ⏦ﾟᢉ𐭩 - 𓊆ྀི𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི [𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰] 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[heliosunny]

Oooo, I thought of something maybe slightly cute! What about a yan Jing Yuan x Reader, but the reader tends to be much more affectionate with other people, and tends to be pretty formal with Jing Yuan?

Like...reader will hug and ruffle the hair of Yanquing and Yunli (much to their chagrin), but tends to be much more stiff with affection toward Jing Yuan, if showing him any at all. Maybe the reader thinks being affectionate with Jing Yuan would be considered inappropriate, considering he is the general and 'The Divine Foresight.'

The perfect distance

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the Seat of Divine Foresight as you stepped through the grand doors, a small satchel of medicine tucked under your arm. Jing Yuan sat at his desk, the usual stack of reports before him, though his gaze lifted the moment you entered.

"Good morning, General." you greeted with a polite bow.

"Ah, if it isn't my diligent healer." he mused, resting his chin on his palm. "Come to check on me again?"

"Of course. The healers at the Alchemy Commission insisted on a follow-up after your last mission." You approached, setting the satchel down neatly before stepping back, hands clasped behind you.

"Always so dutiful. You know, a little informality wouldn’t hurt."

"Respect is important, especially for someone of your standing."

He chuckled, but there was a weight to it. "Is that so?"

Before he could say more, the doors burst open, and Yanqing stumbled in, panting. "General! The—oh, Y/N! You're here!"

Your entire demeanor shifted instantly. A bright smile broke across your face, and before Yanqing could react, you reached out, ruffling his hair with a laugh. "Look at you! Did you run all the way here?"

"Hey—stop that!" Yanqing protested, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Jing Yuan's fingers twitched against his desk.

You only grinned, giving Yanqing’s cheek a playful pinch before turning back to the general—your expression smoothing back into polite professionalism. "My apologies for the interruption, General. I’ll ensure your medicine is properly prepared."

Jing Yuan hummed, his gaze lingering on you. "No need to apologize."

You were warm with everyone else—affectionate, even. But with him? Only proper distance.

-----

The Alchemy Commission was bustling as usual when you arrived, the scent of herbs and medicine thick in the air. Lingsha glanced up at you.

“Back again so soon?” she teased, setting down a mortar and pestle. “Don’t tell me the General’s been overworking himself again.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know how he is. I swear, if I didn’t bring him his medicine personally, he’d forget it entirely.”

Lingsha chuckled, but then her expression turned sly. “Speaking of the General… anything new with him?”

“New? Well, his recovery is progressing, though he still insists on working through fatigue. His blood circulation—”

She held up a hand, cutting you off. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then…?”

“I mean, anything interesting? You’re around him all the time, and yet you never have anything to say about him besides his health reports.”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing else to say.”

Lingsha gave you an incredulous look. “Nothing? You’re telling me that the man who half of the Luofu sighs over doesn’t warrant any personal commentary from you?”

You frowned, genuinely confused. “I don’t see why it matters. I’m just doing my job.”

“That’s exactly the problem! You treat us like family. But with him, you act like a soldier reporting to a superior.”

Unbeknownst to you both, a certain silver-haired general had paused just outside the doorway, having been on his way to greet you—until the conversation took an unexpected turn. Now, he stood just out of sight, arms crossed, listening with far too much interest.

You sighed. “It’s different with him. It would be improper to act casually.”

“He’s still a person, you know.”

Jing Yuan, still eavesdropping, nodded silently in agreement.

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple. I respect his position too much to overstep.”

“Is that so?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Jing Yuan stepped into view.

“G-General!” you stammered, immediately straightening your posture.

“Speak of the devil.”

“I had no idea my presence was so… intimidating.”

You swallowed hard. “Not intimidating! Just… respectable.”

“Respect is one thing. But treating me like a statue is another, don’t you think?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond.

“Even he thinks you’re too stiff.”

Jing Yuan hummed in agreement. “Indeed. I was just passing by, but it seems I’ve stumbled upon quite the enlightening conversation.”

Your face burned.

Oh, this was bad.

----

The streets of the Xianzhou Luofu were alive with celebration—lanterns glowed warmly against the dusk, the scent of spiced wine and roasted delicacies filled the air, and laughter echoed through the bustling plaza. It was one of many festivals the Luofu held, but this one was special: a gathering to mark the General’s full recovery.

You hadn’t expected such an event to be held in his honor, much less to be personally invited. But when the summons arrived, you couldn’t refuse.

Dressed in simple but elegant robes, you arrived early, intending to help with the preparations. Yet the moment you reached for a stray decoration to adjust it, a familiar voice stopped you.

“Now, now. Must you always be working?”

You turned to see Jing Yuan standing behind you.

You quickly bowed. “General. I just thought I’d assist—”

“You’ve done more than enough,” he interrupted smoothly. “Tonight, you should enjoy yourself.”

You hesitated, but nodded. “…Understood.”

Jing Yuan lingered for a moment, as if waiting for something more, but when you said nothing else, he chuckled and turned away, disappearing into the crowd to attend to his duties as host.

Left to your own devices, you did what came naturally—you kept busy.

You helped a group of children untangle their kite strings, laughing as they tugged at your sleeves, begging you to join their game. You chatted with the servers, exchanging jokes and lighthearted complaints about the hectic preparations. And when you spotted a young man struggling with a heavy tray of fruits, nearly tripping into a table, you immediately stepped in, steadying him before disaster could strike.

“Careful” you said, helping him adjust his grip.

He exhaled in relief. “Thank you! I swear, these trays are cursed.”

You grinned. “Just take it slow.”

He smiled back, grateful, and before long, the two of you found yourselves sitting at one of the long banquet tables, sharing a drink and easy conversation. He was a junior clerk from the Sky-Faring Commission, you learned, and his stories about bureaucratic mishaps had you laughing into your cup.

You didn’t notice the pair of golden eyes watching from across the plaza.

Jing Yuan stood near the edge of the festivities, a cup of wine untouched in his hand.

How effortlessly you showed warmth to others.

And yet, with him, you still kept that careful distance.

Then, with deliberate steps, he began making his way toward your table.

The clerk noticed first, nearly choking on his drink when he recognized the approaching figure. “G-General?!”

“Mind if I join you?”

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up being whisked away from your conversation, but Lingsha had appeared out of nowhere, looping her arm through yours with a cheerful, "There you are! I need your help with something!" before dragging you off without another word.

"What’s the emergency?"

She huffed, adjusting the sleeve of her robe. "This sash won’t stay straight. Fix it for me?"

You sighed but obliged, fingers deftly retying the fabric. "You could’ve asked one of the attendants."

"And miss the chance to rescue you? Please. You had no idea what is going to happen next."

You paused. "…What?"

Lingsha waved a hand. "Never mind. Just—try not to look so approachable to random people tonight, okay?"

Before you could ask what she meant, she was already slipping back into the crowd, leaving you standing there, confused.

Shaking your head, you decided to find Yanqing and Yunli instead—familiar faces, easy company. You spotted Yanqing first, the young swordsman grumbling as he tried (and failed) to sneak a pastry from one of the dessert trays. You snuck up behind him and ruffled his hair.

"Hey—!" He whipped around, scowling, but the moment he saw it was you, his expression shifted to exasperated fondness. "Oh. It’s you."

"Miss me?"

He rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away when you playfully tugged at his ponytail.

Yunli, ever the composed one, merely raised an eyebrow as you approached. "Must you torment him?"

"Absolutely," you said, reaching up to adjust the slightly crooked pin in her hair. She sighed but allowed it, her lips twitching in amusement.

Meanwhile, across the plaza, Jing Yuan was surrounded.

People of all kind—all vying for his attention, some with thinly veiled flirtation. He smiled, nodded, gave polite replies, but his gaze kept drifting—past them, past the crowd, to where you were, laughing with his disciple as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The night had been a blur of laughter, music, and far too many cups of Xianzhou’s strongest liquor. You hadn’t meant to drink so much—truly, you hadn’t—but between Yanqing daring you to try the spiced wine and Lingsha cheerfully refilling your cup every time it emptied, you’d lost track.

By the time you realized you were swaying on your feet, it was too late.

The world spun pleasantly as you wandered away from the feast, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed skin. The lanterns blurred into golden streaks, the distant hum of voices fading as you found yourself near one of the Luofu’s tranquil ponds, the water shimmering under the moonlight.

You plopped down at the edge, legs dangling precariously over the water, and giggled to yourself.

Oops. Maybe too close.

You leaned forward—just a little—to peer at your reflection, but your balance betrayed you.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you felt yourself tipping—

Then strong arms caught you, pulling you back against a firm chest.

“Now, now,” a familiar voice murmured, “That would be a rather undignified way to end the night, don’t you think?”

You blinked up at him.

His silver hair glowed under the moonlight, his golden eyes crinkled in amusement. He looked unfairly handsome, and in your drunken state, you saw no reason not to say so.

“Wow,” you breathed, reaching up to poke his cheek. “You’re really pretty.”

His eyebrows shot up.

Then he laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Is that so?”

You nodded sagely. “Mhm. Like a painting.”

His gaze softened. “And here I thought you only saw me as ‘The Divine Foresight.’”

You scrunched your nose. “That’s stupid.”

“Oh?”

“You’re Jing Yuan,” you declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You laugh at bad jokes. You forget your medicine. You let Yanqing win sometimes even though he definitely doesn’t deserve it.”

“I see alcohol makes you rather… honest.”

You sighed dramatically, flopping back against him. “I’m always honest. You just never listen.”

He hummed, shifting to steady you. “Then perhaps you should tell me something else.”

“Like what?”

“Why,” he said, voice dropping to a murmur, “you treat everyone else with such ease… but with me, you keep your distance.”

You frowned, struggling to form a coherent thought through the haze of liquor. “Because… you’re important.”

“And that means I deserve less of your kindness?”

“No!” You huffed, frustrated. “It means I can’t mess up. If I’m too casual, if I say the wrong thing—what if you realize I’m not as put-together as I pretend to be?”

The confession tumbled out before you could stop it.

Jing Yuan went very still.

Then, slowly, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “That’s what you’ve been worried about?”

You pouted. “It’s a valid concern.”

He chuckled, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Silly thing. Do you really think I don’t know you?”

“I’ve watched you scold Yanqing for skipping training,” he continued, amused. “I’ve seen you trip over your own feet in the halls. I know you sneak extra sweets when you think no one’s looking.”

Your face burned. “You—noticed that?”

“I notice everything,” he said, “Especially when it comes to you.”

Your drunken brain short-circuited.

Before you could respond, he sighed, shifting to lift you into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere you won’t drown.”

You whined but didn’t protest, too busy marveling at how nice his chest felt to lean against.

Somewhere in the distance, Lingsha watched the scene unfold—then smirked and turned away, deciding some things were better left uninterrupted.

>The Morning After<

Your head pounded.

Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning.

Wait.

Not your pillow.

Your eyes flew open.

This was not your room.

Oh no.

Fragmented memories flashed in your mind—Jing Yuan’s arms around you, his laughter, your embarrassingly honest rambling—

You sat bolt upright, then immediately regretted it as your skull throbbed in protest.

A cup of water and a small vial of medicine sat on the bedside table, along with a note:

"Drink this. We’ll talk later."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you scurried into the Alchemy Commission, still nursing the remnants of your hangover. The moment you arrived, you grabbed the nearest healer by the sleeve.

"Switch shifts with me. Please. I'll owe you forever."

They blinked at your desperate expression but shrugged. "Uh… sure?"

You nearly collapsed in relief. Perfect. Now you could hide behind the counter, avoid all human interaction, and—most importantly—never have to face him again.

-----

The General of the Luofu was distracted.

Reports lay unfinished on his desk, his usually sharp mind clouded with thoughts of you—your drunken confession, the way you'd curled against him, the way you'd finally spoken to him without that infuriating formality.

And then you'd vanished.

His fingers tightened around his brush.

Did you regret it?

Was it just the wine talking?

Or worse—had that clerk from the Sky-Faring Commission caught your interest instead?

The brush snapped in his hand.

"…I see."

He exhaled slowly, setting the pieces aside. He was Jing Yuan, the Divine Foresight. He did not lose composure over such things.

…Yet here he was, standing up, cloak already swinging over his shoulders as he strode out of his office.

Fine. If you wouldn’t come to him, he’d find you himself.

----

You were safe.

Hunched behind the counter, pretending to organize herbs, you let out a slow breath. Maybe if you stayed here long enough, he’d—

"Where is Y/N?"

Your blood turned to ice.

You ducked lower, praying that he wouldn’t see you.

"They, uh… switched shifts?" the other healer said nervously.

Footsteps. Moving away.

You nearly sobbed in relief.

…Until a shadow loomed over you.

"Hiding, are we?"

Slowly, painfully, you turned your head.

You swallowed.

"G-General! I—uh—was just—"

"Crawling away?" he supplied helpfully.

You winced.

Before you could react, his hand shot out, gripping the back of your collar like a misbehaving kitten. "Up."

You yelped as he hauled you to your feet.

You knelt before him in the empty side room, hands raised in surrender, face burning with shame.

"Explain."

You gulped. "I… may have acted inappropriately last night."

"Oh?" He tilted his head. "How so?"

"I—I drank too much. I said things I shouldn’t have. I embarrassed myself—and you—and then I ran away like a coward—"

"So you do remember."

You nodded miserably.

"And yet," he continued, voice dropping, "instead of facing me, you chose to hide?"

You flinched. "I thought… you’d be angry."

"Angry?" He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. "I was worried."

Your eyes widened.

"Now," he said, stepping closer, "come here."

You blinked. "Wh—?"

"I can’t hear you from there."

You hesitated, then shuffled forward on your knees until you were right in front of him.

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his voice a low murmur.

"Now. Tell me again—why did you run?"

"I… was scared."

"Of?"

"Of… you realizing I’m not as composed as I pretend to be."

"I already told you—I know you."

You bit your lip.

"And," he added, fingers brushing under your chin, "I rather like the real you."

"So no more hiding," he murmured. "No more formality. Understood?"

You nodded weakly.

"Good." He straightened, offering you a hand. "Now get up. We have work to do."

You took it, your face still burning.

After The Incident (as you now referred to it in your head), things… changed.

Not drastically—you weren’t suddenly clinging to Jing Yuan’s arm or calling him by some ridiculous nickname—but the stiffness in your interactions had melted away.

You still bowed when necessary, still addressed him with respect, but now…When he made a terrible joke during strategy meetings, you rolled your eyes instead of forcing a polite laugh. When he "forgot" his medicine (again), you scolded him openly instead of couching your words in deference. And when he teased you—which was often—you gave as good as you got.

Jing Yuan, for his part, seemed delighted by this shift.

But there was something else, too.

A lingering glance when someone spoke to you a little too familiarly.

A casual step closer when a visiting diplomat eyed you with a little too much interest.

A look—one that had even Yanqing gulping and backing away when he tried to drag you into another ill-advised sparring match.

At first, you thought you were imagining it.

But then Lingsha smirked at you over her tea.

"You really don’t see it, do you?"

"See what?"

She just laughed.

Whispers spread through the Luofu.

"Did you hear? The General personally reprimanded that merchant for overcharging them."

"He reassigned three clerks just because they were rude to Y/N in passing."

"I heard he nearly leveled a training ground because someone accidentally knocked them over during drills."

(That last one was an exaggeration.…Probably.)

It hit you one evening, as you sat across from him in his study, reviewing supply reports.

He was leaning back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed from running a hand through it one too many times. He looked… relaxed.

And then it struck you—

He likes having you here.

Not as a subordinate.

Just… as you.

Jing Yuan noticed your stare and raised an eyebrow. "Something on my face?"

You shook your head, smiling slightly. "No. Just thinking."

"Dangerous habit" he teased.

You threw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning.

No one dared to mistreat you.

No one dared to overstep.

And no one—absolutely no one—dared to flirt with you within Jing Yuan’s line of sight.

(You weren’t sure whether to be exasperated or touched.)

But when you mentioned it to him, he merely sipped his tea and said,

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

You snorted.

Liar.

-----

I'm currently facing writer's blockkkkkkkkkkkkk.(╥﹏╥)

[chansdoll]

방찬 x 한 x you ─── needy

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] dom!bangchan x sub!han x sub afab!reader . hard dom!chan, brief sub x sub , praise kink , degradation kink , degrading praise , dirty talk , name calling , teasing , oral (m. & f. rec) , face fucking , hair pulling , overstimulation , cunt slapping , use of sex toy , aftercare at the end ♡ ♡ synopsis ― bored and horny, you decide to play with jisung while you wait for chan. however, it doesn't go as planned. [ 5.6k words ] ♡ ― this took me so long because i got caught up with work n had motivation problems.. im so sorry if this is bad jfdklsjgkflf semi proofread. ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

you lay sprawled on your bed, fresh from a warm shower. the soft scent of lilies clung to your skin, and your pretty nightgown flowed loosely around you, paired with fuzzy socks that added to your cozy look. it was a quiet, almost too quiet, night. jisung was in his room across the hall, unusually silent, and chan was still at the studio, leaving the house with an air of emptiness that made you feel a bit lonely.

as if sensing your mood, han peeked into your room. his soft footsteps barely made a sound, but when his gaze landed on you, lying on your stomach with your phone in hand, his expression melted. you looked up at him, your face lighting up with a warmth that made his heart flutter.

“hi, sungie!” you chirped, sitting up on your knees and smiling brightly.

“hi,” he replied softly, stepping inside and taking a seat on the edge of your bed. his hands fidgeted slightly as he glanced at you. “what are you doing?”

“just scrolling,” you said, holding up your phone. without hesitation, you shifted closer, curling up beside him as you opened the app you’d been browsing. “look at these shoes! aren’t they cute?” your eyes sparkled as you showed him a pair of pastel pink platform mary janes, your excitement contagious.

han’s lips curved into a small, fond smile. “you’d look adorable in them,” he murmured, his hand drifting to rest gently on your thigh. his fingers brushed the hem of your nightgown as he spoke, the tender gesture warming you further. “i’ll tell chan to get them for you when he finally gets home—if he ever does.”

you huffed, a playful pout forming on your lips as you set your phone on the nightstand. “he’s been working late too much lately,” you grumbled, leaning back into the pillows dramatically.

han laid down beside you, propping his head on his hand as he watched you. “at least he warned us this time instead of waking us up at 3 a.m. banging around the kitchen,” he teased, his tone lighthearted.

you giggled at the memory, your pout giving way to a smile. “true. that was the worst. i almost threw a pillow at him.”

han chuckled, his face softening as he rested his cheek against the pillow. his fingers absentmindedly spun the silver ring on his finger while his eyes lingered on your face, admiring your playful demeanor. 

“still, he’s so mean for making me wait!” you whined, your fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of han’s shirt. the soft fabric twisted between your fingertips as your pout deepened. “especially when i’m so…” you trailed off, your cheeks warming as the words caught in your throat.

han tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his gaze as he waited for you to continue. a sly idea sparked in your mind, and you bit your lip before finishing your thought with a quiet, mischievous tone. “…horny.”

han’s face flushed instantly, his eyes widening as if your words had jolted life into him. he blinked, struggling to process, his gaze flickering over you before landing back on your face. “you’re… but channie isn’t…” he began to stammer, his voice soft and unsure.

you placed a finger to his lips to shush him, your grin widening with playful mischief. “what if,” you suggested, crawling closer to him, “we played a little? just while we wait for channie to come home.” you knelt beside him on the bed, your eyes glinting with anticipation as you watched him wrestle with your proposal.

han’s face was a shade of pink that rivaled the shoes you’d shown him earlier. his gaze traveled down your form, hesitant and thoughtful, before he looked back up to meet your eyes. “but what if he gets mad?” he whispered, as if chan could somehow overhear your scheming.

your grin turned into a smirk, a spark of daring lighting up your features. “that’s what makes it more fun, hannie!” you teased, your voice bubbling with excitement.

han’s lips parted as if to protest, but he quickly closed them, his blush deepening as he fidgeted with the hem of his own shirt. “um… okay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “but i’m not really feeling, uh, dominant right now…”

you nodded, leaning down so your face was close to his, your voice soft and coaxing. “me neither. but we can make it work, right?” you tilted your head, your expression hopeful as you sought his approval.

han swallowed hard, his fidgeting slowing as he considered your words. finally, he nodded, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “mhm. yeah, w-we can.”

without another word, you leaned down, running your soft hands along his chest, and giving him tender kisses on his lips. he let out a soft moan in response, leaning into you immediately. 

you felt a spark of exhilaration coursing through you, a mixture of excitement and mischief that left your heart racing. the thought alone—breaking from your usual routine, giving in to this shared craving without waiting for chan—was equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking.

usually, the three of you would play together. it was a dynamic you were used to, one that felt safe and familiar. you and han would put on a playful show for chan when he got home, teasing and coaxing him into joining. but now, this was different. you weren’t waiting.

the idea was so naughty, so completely against the unspoken rules you’d all naturally fallen into. it sent a shiver through you, equal parts apprehension and desire. the risk made it even hotter—knowing that chan might come home at any moment, that he might catch you in the act, might see how you and han had caved to your shared need before he could take control of the situation.

han seemed to be feeling the same rush, his nervous fidgeting giving way to a subtle shift in his expression. he wasn’t bold by nature, but there was something in his eyes now—a flicker of curiosity, of shared rebellion—that matched the spark in your own.

this wasn’t your first time playing with jisung, not by a long shot. the two of you had shared plenty of intimate moments before, exploring each other’s desires under chan’s guidance or as part of your playful trio. you were no strangers to each other’s touches, no strangers to the way your chemistry crackled when the mood struck.

but this? this was different. you’d never done this together when both of you were feeling like this—soft, shy, hesitant, both naturally leaning toward the same submissive energy. there was no one to take the lead, no steady hand or commanding voice to guide you.

in a frenzy of passion, you and jisung were already intertwined and touching each other. your movements were needy and hurried, driven by an insatiable desire for each other. you clung to him, wrapping your body around his as you straddled him. whimpers escaped your lips as you ground against him through his sweatpants.

jisung was already achingly hard, unable to resist the urge to touch and be touched by you. "y/n," he whispered desperately, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he guided your movements. "sungie," you moaned in response, leaning forward and clinging onto the pillows in an attempt to steady yourself.

his hands roamed upwards, pushing up your nightgown to reveal your light pink panties that were now rubbing against his hardened member with fervent urgency.

his voice was laced with sweetness as he asked, "can i see you, y/n?" you nodded eagerly, a giddy excitement bubbling in your chest. his hands clenched the bottom of your nightgown, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion.

now clad only in fuzzy socks and panties, you resumed grinding against him, feeling his warmth through the fabric of his clothes. with each movement, he grew more flushed and his hands became bolder and more eager, exploring every inch of your skin with an intoxicating fervor. his fingertips dug into your breasts, pinching and teasing your nipples, while his palms kneaded and caressed your flesh.

lost in your heated touches and kisses, both you and jisung missed the text from chan, announcing that he’d be leaving a couple hours early. “lemme taste you,” han said shyly, slight pleading laced in his voice. he tugged a little on your panties and you whined at his words. “mmh, okay, hannie.” you giggled, rolling off him for a moment and pushing your panties off. 

he laid back against the bed, head by the foot-end, waiting eagerly for you to sit on his face. you crawled up, your soft, velvety thighs on either side of his head as you hesitantly hovered above his waiting mouth.

 he wrapped his arms around your thighs and impatiently yanked you down, immediately latching his mouth to your sopping cunt. his mouth worked urgently, his tongue swiped over your wet folds quickly, drinking you in. 

you let out a shocked moan, watching him bury his face in your mound. he flicked his tongue on your clit, the lewd noises making you both blush. “oh-oh, hannie, right there!” you cried, reaching down and gripping his hair in an attempt to hold his head still. 

lost in pleasure, you began to desperately ride his face, grinding your clit onto his tongue, your hips rolling quickly. you didn’t even notice that one of han’s hands left your thigh to pull his leaking cock out and stroke it. he whimpered against your cunt, his hand pumping furiously around his length as he ate you up like he was starving. 

“sungie, i’m s-so close,” you panted, tugging on his hair with both strands as you chased your orgasm. he let out a choked moan in response, too consumed by you to respond coherently. he cried against your flesh, only adding vibrations and heightening your pleasure. 

with a cry, you came, falling forward and gripping onto the footboard until your knuckles turned white, your overstimulated cunt still grinding up against han’s swollen lips. he made out with your sex, too pussydrunk to pull away on his own. you let out a weak whine, finally looking up from the floor to see chan standing in the doorway.

your breath hitched, and you pulled yourself off han’s mouth, making him whine from the loss of you. “y/n,” he pouted, before following your gaze. he blushed and tried to cover himself up. 

chan stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. his expression was unreadable, a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and something darker simmering beneath the surface. the intensity of his presence was enough to make you freeze, your hands faltering on the footboard as the weight of the situation settled over you.

“what,” chan’s voice was calm, low, and dangerously controlled, “do you two think you’re doing?”

jisung shifted uncomfortably, still flushed and disheveled. you squeaked, grabbing the nearest blanket to cover yourself as you avoided chan’s piercing gaze.

“channie, i—” you began, your voice trembling, but he held up a hand to silence you.

“i don’t remember giving either of you permission to start without me,” he said, his tone sharp but measured. he stepped into the room, his movements deliberate, his presence filling the space. “is that how we do things now? you just… indulge yourselves while i’m gone?”

jisung whimpered, sitting up on the bed with his head bowed, propped up on his elbow. “we didn’t mean to—”

“didn’t mean to?” chan cut him off, his voice rising slightly, though still calm. “because it looks to me like you knew exactly what you were doing. both of you.”

he turned his gaze to you, and the weight of his stare made you squirm. “look at me,” he commanded, his voice firm. slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, your cheeks burning with shame.

“do you know how disappointed i am?” he continued, his tone softer now but no less commanding. “i expect better from both of you. you know the rules, don’t you?”

“yes, channie,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“then why did you break them?” his question hung in the air, and the silence that followed felt oppressive.

“we were just…” jisung tried to explain, but the words faltered on his tongue.

chan let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he took a few more steps into the room, his commanding presence never wavering. “you’re both going to make this up to me,” he said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. “but first, you’re going to tell me exactly why you thought this was a good idea.”

his eyes flicked between you and jisung, his gaze expectant. neither of you dared to speak at first, the tension thick in the room.

“well?” he prompted, crossing his arms again. “i’m waiting.”

“i was just so.. worked up, and.. you weren’t gonna be home for a few hours..” you trailed off, a blush of embarrassment painting your cheeks. 

chan was well aware that you were the instigator. han would never have dared to break the rules on his own; he was easily swayed into mischief, especially if it meant indulging in moments with you. chan knew exactly who the true brat between the two of you was.

his eyes roamed over you and jisung, and a playful twinkle sparked in his eye, as if he noticed something. 

he walked over to you both, tsking. “you two made quiet the mess, didn’t you?” he said lowly, eyes flicking from you to han, who was tugging his shirt down over his tummy for the life of him. “what? no..” you objected, straightening up. chan reached you both, pulling han’s shirt up to reveal his cum-covered stomach. 

“are you sure?” he asked, a brow raised. you bit your tongue, your heart thumping. han must of came while you were sitting on his face. you looked from the mess on his stomach to look at han. han blushed, avoiding eye contact with both of you. 

“clean him up,” chan said firmly, his eyes not leaving yours. “wh-what?” you stuttered, clutching the blanket to your chest. “you heard me,” he took the blanket from around your body, tossing it on the other side of the bed, before petting the back of your head. “clean him up.” 

you swallowed hard, crawling back towards jisung on trembling hands and knees. both of your faces were flushed a deep shade of red, feeling exposed and caught in this intimate moment. but you trusted chan, knowing he would never make you do something you didn't want to do. and you all had established a safeword to use if things ever got too intense.

seeing chan worked up and angry only added to the heat pooling between your thighs. jisung bit his lip, watching as you leaned forward and stuck your tongue out, licking up the droplets of his release that had landed on his stomach. you took your time, savoring the taste and the sensation of your tongue against his skin.

as you bent down to clean up the mess, a hand glided over your inner thigh, causing you to shiver with anticipation. chan was teasingly prodding at your swollen pussy, gauging just how aroused you were. his touch sent sparks of pleasure through your body.

suddenly, you felt a sharp sting on your sex, causing you to yelp and jolt. "such a dirty girl, playing without me.." chan almost growled, rubbing your clit with agonizing slowness. you couldn't help but whimper quietly, peeking back at him with pleading eyes. he met your gaze, his own dark with lust and something else that made your heart race even faster. "quiet," he ordered firmly before giving your cunt another stinging slap.

you bit back a moan, squeezing your eyes shut. han squirmed, the scene in front of him daring to make him hard once again. “play with han while i play with your little cunt,” he instructed, dipping behind you on the bed. you looked up at han, who was still a shy, fidgety mess. 

as you leaned forward, your heart raced at the intensity of the situation. you were hyper aware of every sound in the room—the rustle of fabric, the low hum of chan’s steady breathing behind you, and the soft, stifled noises jisung made as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock.

jisung shuddered beneath you, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly as he tried to keep still. his lips parted as a quiet whimper escaped, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the reaction you drew from him.

behind you, chan’s hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer to him as his other hand explored the wetness between your thighs. his touch was calculated, purposeful, and every slow stroke sent sparks shooting through your body.

“look at you,” chan murmured, his voice dripping with dominance. “so eager to please now that you’ve been caught. where was all this obedience earlier?”

you moaned softly against jisung, the vibrations making him squirm under your touch. chan’s hand gripped your hair, tugging your head up slightly to make you pause. “i asked you a question,” he said, his tone sharper now.

“s-sorry, channie,” you stammered, your voice breathless.

“sorry isn’t going to cut it,” he said, letting go of your hair and giving your ass a sharp slap that made you yelp. “you’re going to show me you’re sorry.”

he spread you open further, his fingers sliding into you effortlessly as he worked you with precision. you gasped, struggling to focus on jisung, whose flushed face and trembling hands showed he was on the verge of losing himself.

“eyes on him,” chan ordered, his fingers curling inside you just right. “he’s your responsibility now. make him feel good while i remind you who you belong to.”

you nodded quickly, returning your attention to jisung as your hand wrapped around his base, your lips sliding down his length with practiced ease. he whined, his cock becoming fully hard now due to your ministrations. he bucked his hips slightly, unable to control his reactions, his shy demeanor melting away as pleasure overtook him.

chan’s rhythm behind you was relentless, his free hand gripping your waist tightly to hold you in place. he leaned forward, his breath warm against your skin. “that’s it,” he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “such a good little whore, aren’t you?”

your body was alight with sensation, torn between the overwhelming pleasure chan was giving you and the thrill of hearing jisung’s soft, broken cries as he teetered on the edge. 

the room was suffused with heat, every motion and sound building the intensity between the three of you. jisung's broken whimpers filled the air as he trembled beneath you, his body straining against the pleasure you were giving him.

behind you, you heard the clinking of metal and the shuffle of fabric, you could only assume he was freeing himself from his pants. chan’s grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the heat of his body pressing closer to yours.  

you gasped softly, feeling his cock brush against your slick lips, and he ground himself against them, lubricating himself.  before you could respond, chan leaned over you, his breath warm against your back as his fingers dug into your waist. “keep your focus on hannie, baby.” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

you nodded obediently, your lips wrapping around jisung’s cock again, savoring the way he moaned your name in soft, desperate breaths. his hips bucked slightly, and you held him steady, your hand stroking him in tandem with your mouth.  

chan shifted behind you as he guided himself to your entrance. the blunt, thick head of his cock pressed against your soaked folds, and you tensed in anticipation, your body already aching to feel him fill you.  

“relax,” chan whispered, his hand stroking your back in a fleeting moment of gentleness. then, with one smooth thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. a sharp cry escaped your lips, muffled around jisung as the sudden fullness sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you.  

chan groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the stretch. “you’re squeezing me, baby,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “mm.. f-fuck.”  

you whimpered against jisung, your body trembling as chan began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one drawing a broken moan from your lips. jisung was a writhing mess beneath you, his hands clutching at the sheets as his own pleasure built.  

“don’t stop,” chan growled, his pace quickening, his voice sending a thrill through you. “make him come for me. show him how good you are.”  

driven by his command, you redoubled your efforts on jisung, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring him closer to the edge. the sounds of his moans and chan’s deep, guttural groans blended into a symphony of raw, unrestrained desire.  

every thrust from chan sent you spiraling further into bliss, your body caught between the overwhelming pleasure of being filled by him and the intoxicating power of watching jisung fall apart under your touch.  

“such a perfect little thing,” chan murmured, his voice strained as his movements grew rougher. jisung sat up, little whimpers leaving his lips as he neared release. he propped himself up on his elbow with one arm, the other hand leaving the sheets to grip your hair. “a-ah, g-gonna cum,” he whined, his brows knitting together.

chan leaned forward, pushing your head slightly. “take all of him, or i pull out right now,” he ordered, his voice low and intimidating. you whimpered in response, but you obeyed, leaning down and deepthroating jisung. 

his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell back against the bed once again, both hands gripping your hair as he thrusted up into your throat. “c-coming!” he cried, holding your head down, your nose touching his base as he erupted in your throat. chan’s pace was unrelenting, he kept ramming into you as you throated han. 

you gagged and coughed, your eyes watering as you looked up at jisung. chan growled, slapping your ass harshly, making the sound almost echo in the room. he dug his nails into your stinging skin, making you yelp around jisung’s overstimulated cock. “swallow it all..” chan demanded, his voice hoarse. 

you obeyed and swallowed all you could, then licked any remainders off han’s length. han panted, nearly boneless underneath you and chan, his eyes glazed over. 

chan pulled out momentarily, his hands still on your hips. “sung, come here.” he said firmly as han tucked himself back into his sweatpants shyly. chan whispered in han’s ear for a few seconds, before turning his attention back to you as han left the room. he helped flip you onto your back, using his hands to part your pretty thighs. 

“there’s my dirty little girl,” he ran his hands up your sides, before groping and kneading your tits. “sungie’s getting you a surprise,” he grinned, squeezing your mounds roughly. your heart raced in anticipation, and as if on cue, han returned, a wand vibrator in hand.

you whined, knowing what was coming. “no, channie, please, i-” 

chan interrupted you with a sharp slap to your cunt, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. “you don’t get a say.” he growled, gripping your thighs and tugging you closer to him. “you lost that when you decided to be a bad girl and play without me.” you whimpered, biting your lip as he caught his dick with his thumb and pushed it back inside you. 

jisung looked down at you with a sympathetic look as he sat next to you on the bed. he felt bad that you were getting the punishment, even though technically you did start it. chan’s strokes were slow, deliberate, and teasing. his strong, veiny hands pushed your thighs down against your torso, practically folding you in half. 

“do it, han.” chan said, making sure to give han access to between your legs. han turned on the massager, putting it on the highest setting. he dragged it against your pubic bone before pressing it to your clit right away. you cried out, whimpering. your cunt fluttered around chan, earning a quiet groan of satisfaction from him. 

chan leaned back, giving han room to press it firmer against your skin. you clawed at the bedding under you, your thighs shaking violently. “n-no, too much!” you gasped, looking up at chan with pleading eyes. he just smirked, speeding up his pace, short pants and breathless moans occasionally leaving his lips. “you say no,” he started, he fingertips digging into your inner thighs. “but your little cunt is saying the opposite, babygirl. gripping me so good, fuck,” 

han pressed the vibrator firmer on your clit, making you squirm and cry out. your legs couldn’t stop shaking, and you were sure you were starting to see stars. 

your body trembled as the relentless sensations built, overwhelming you completely. the combination of chan’s unyielding thrusts and the intense vibrations against your clit sent you hurtling over the edge. a choked scream tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching desperately at the sheets.

your walls clenched tightly around chan, drawing a low, guttural moan from him as he fought to maintain control. “that’s it, good girl,” he growled, his pace never faltering. “come for me—show me how much you can take.”

but even as your body spasmed and your release soaked his cock, neither of them stopped. the vibrator pressed insistently against your oversensitive clit, and chan’s movements only seemed to grow rougher, pushing you past the threshold of pleasure into the realm of overstimulation.

“p-please, channie,” you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your body writhed beneath them. “i can’t—it’s too much!”

chan’s eyes darkened with lust as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “you can, and you will,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance. “i’ll decide when you’ve had enough.”

han, emboldened by chan’s control, kept the vibrator pressed firmly to your swollen clit, his own breath hitching as he watched your every reaction. “she looks so pretty like this,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with heat.

chan smirked, his hand trailing up your trembling thigh to grip your waist. “she loves it,” he said, his tone firm and confident. “don’t you, baby? you love being pushed past your limits.”

a strangled moan escaped your lips as another wave of pleasure threatened to crest, your overstimulated body betraying you. your hips bucked uncontrollably, chasing the sensations even as they overwhelmed you.

“look at her,” chan continued, his voice laced with pride as he pistoned in and out of you. “she’s taking it so well—my perfect little slut.”

the praise sent shivers down your spine, and before you could protest again, the coil in your tummy snapped once more, a second orgasm crashing into you with devastating force. your cries filled the room as your body convulsed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

still, chan didn’t stop, his cock driving into you with relentless precision, and the vibrator continued to torment your overstimulated clit. the intensity was unbearable, your mind teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” chan murmured, his tone softening just enough to make you feel both cared for and completely under his control. “you can take it. i know you can.”

your body was trembling uncontrollably, every nerve alight with sensation as chan and han worked you mercilessly. the overwhelming combination of chan's deep, unrelenting thrusts and the vibrator against your throbbing clit had you sobbing with pleasure. you had lost track of how many times you’d come, your body wrung out and still teetering on the edge of another release.

“p-please,” you sobbed, your voice cracking with desperation. “it’s too much… i can’t—”

“can’t?” chan repeated mockingly, his smirk dark and unyielding. he leaned down, capturing your tear-streaked face with his intense gaze. “you’ve been saying that for a while now, sweetheart, but look at you.” he punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made your back arch and another broken cry spill from your lips. “you’re still taking it so well. you were made for this.”

“come on, baby,” chan said, his voice low and laced with hunger. his thrusts grew rougher, each one pushing you closer to the breaking point.

your body arched off the bed as the pressure in your core became unbearable. your moans turned into cries, your legs trembling uncontrollably as another orgasm ripped through you. but even as you came, chan didn’t stop. the overstimulation sent shockwaves through your entire body, making you sob as the vibrator continued to torment your oversensitive clit.

“channie, i—” you tried to form words, but they dissolved into a choked scream as the pressure in your core shifted. the sensation was overwhelming, a heat spreading through you as your body teetered on the brink of something even more intense.

“let go,” chan growled, his pace unrelenting. “come on, sweetheart, one more big one. that’s it.”

han’s expression was full of anticipation as he watched you, his hand caressing the inside of your thigh. 

before he could say something, the dam broke. a gush of liquid escaped you, soaking chan’s thighs and the sheets beneath you as your body convulsed in release. a strangled moan tore from your lips as you completely unraveled, your mind blank and your body overwhelmed by the force of your climax.

“fuck, that’s it,” chan groaned, his hips stuttering as he watched you squirt, his grip on your thighs firm but steadying. “that’s my good girl.”

“are you okay, jagi?” han asked, his voice filled with awe and concern. he reached out hesitantly, running his fingers gently along your trembling thighs. as chan slowed down, giving you time to recuperate. 

you gave him a slow, tiny nod as you lay there, utterly spent, your chest heaving as your body twitched from the aftershocks. chan resumed, gradually speeding back up and giving you the option to tap out if need be. 

chan's thrusts resumed at a steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your every reaction. his grip on your thighs was firm but gentle, ensuring you stayed grounded even as the intensity built once more. your body trembled under him, every nerve still raw and sensitive, but the way he looked at you—equal parts adoration and desire—kept you anchored.

“just a little more, sweetheart,” chan murmured, his voice low and soothing. “you can take it. almost done.”

han stayed close by, his hand still stroking your thigh in comforting circles, his expression soft with concern and admiration. “you’re doing so well, jagiya,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. 

the pace of chan’s hips quickened as his breathing became heavier. his hands slid up to hold your hips, pulling you closer with each thrust. you whimpered softly, your body instinctively responding despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

“i’m close,” chan groaned, his voice strained. he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “just stay with me, baby. almost there.”

with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, chan buried himself fully inside you, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he reached his peak. his hips stilled as he released, warmth spreading through you as he held you close, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he littered soft kisses on your jawline and cheeks, then ending them on your lips. 

for a moment, the room was quiet except for the sound of your combined heavy breathing. chan stayed still, letting you both come down from the intensity. then he carefully pulled out, making sure not to cause you any discomfort. han immediately went to go get a warm, damp towel, then he returned, gently pressing it against your thighs and stomach to clean you up.

chan helped you change into something comfortable, and han changed the bedding for you since you ended up making a mess of them just moments prior. 

“you did so well,” chan murmured as you both lay back down, his tone full of pride and affection. he helped you shift into a more comfortable position, pulling the covers over your trembling body. “so proud of you, baby.”

han slid into the bed with you, his fingers brushing your hair back as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “you were amazing,” he said softly. “so beautiful.”

the two of them worked together seamlessly, their movements tender as they made sure you were warm and comfortable. chan lifted you gently into his arms, cradling you against his chest as han brought you a glass of water and held it to your lips.

“drink, baby,” han coaxed, his voice sweet and soothing. “you need to stay hydrated.”

you sipped the water gratefully, your body still trembling slightly as the aftereffects of everything began to fade. chan stroked your back in slow, calming motions, his lips brushing against your forehead as he whispered words of reassurance.

“you’re safe,” he murmured. “we’ve got you. always.”

the three of you settled into the bed together, chan holding you close while han cuddled up on your other side, his fingers intertwined with yours. the warmth of their bodies and the gentle rhythm of their breathing lulled you into a peaceful state, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you drifted off, feeling cherished and loved.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[freakycore]

🎧 JJK MEN REACTION TO YOU HAVING PLUSHIES OF THEM !

GOJO

he’s ecstatic. yk his ego is already the size of the moon, so find out you have a plushie of him is like giving him more fuel.

you’re trying to hide it, but gojo spots the plushie sticking out of your bed. “wait… is that me?!” he snatches it before you can protest, holding it up like a trophy. “you couldn’t resist my charm, huh?” he teases, smirking.

he even starts imitating the plushie’s pose and voice. “hi, i’m gojo satoru, the strongest, cutest, plushiest sorcerer alive!”

he probably steals it at some point, takes it on missions, and sends you photos of it “on adventures.”

GETO

he’s amused, but there’s a soft warmth in his expression. he won’t make a big deal about it, but deep down, he’s touched.

geto finds it while you’re not around, sitting neatly on your desk. when you walk in, he’s holding it up, on eyebrow raised. “care to explain this?” he asked, though his tone is more playful than accusing.

when you stammer through your explanation, he chuckles and sets it back gently. “cute,” he says, ruffling your hair.

later, you catch him staring at it with a small smile when he thinks you’re not looking.

TOJI

he’s horrified at first but quickly shifts to his usual cocky demeanor.

you’re cuddling the plushie when toji walks in, and he stops dead in his tracks. “what the hell is that?” he asks, pointing at it like it’s cursed.

when you tell him it’s a plushie of him, he snatches it out of your hands, looking at it like it’s going to bite him. “this doesn’t even look like me,” he grumbles, though he can’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

later, he’ll tease you relentlessly. “didn’t know you needed something to cuddle when i’m not around,” he says, leaning in close.

NANAMI

embarrassed but flattered. he doesn’t know how to hand,e this kind of attention.

nanami notices the plushie on your bookshelf while you’re cleaning. he picks it up carefully, his brow furrowing. “is this supposed to be me?” he asks, his tone measured.

when you sheepishly admit it, he adjusts his tie and looks away, clearly flustered. “i… appreciate the sentiment, but dont you think this is a bit much?”

despite his wordsmith you catch him glancing at it occasionally, and once, you swear you saw him straighten it’s tie.

CHOSO

he’s confused at first, but once he understands, he’s shyly pleased

you’re rearranging your bed, and choso spots the plushie tucked into the blankets. “what’s this?” he asks, picking it up gingerly.

when you tell him it’s him, his face softens, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “you.. wanted something to remind you of me?” he murmurs, looking at it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

later, he’ll ask if you want him to hold it for you when you’re not feeling well, even though he’s still embarrassed by the whole thing.

SUKUNA

equal parts insulted and intrigued. he’ll act like it’s beneath him, but he secretly loves it.

sukuna finds the plushie sitting on your desk and snatches it up, scowling. “what the hell is this ridiculous thing?” he growls, shaking it slightly.

when you explain it’s him, his smirk grows sharp. “so, you worship me even when i’m not around, huh?” he teased.

but later, you notice he’s placed it back on your bed— perfectly upright, almost like he’s guarding it. if you confront him, he’ll deny it with a snarl.

[cumironi]

FOREVER, OURS : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

& sum. the night before, you and your boyfriends talking about having kids. for them, having a child in these moments wasn’t the right decision, especially with them too busy with missions and averything, and the next morning, you just happened to be pregnant.

warning. established relationship au, fluff, bit angst, baby-trap, very-very suggestive start.

[☆] MASTERLIST

the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a warm light as you relaxed in your shared bedroom with geto and gojo. the air was filled with a peaceful quiet, the kind that comes from being completely comfortable in each other’s presence.

geto was beside you, his attention absorbed in a book, the pages softly turning as he read. gojo was lying on the other side, his phone held loosely in his hand, occasionally tapping on the screen with a faint smirk.

you had your own book in hand, but you found yourself distracted. the comforting presence of your two boyfriends made it hard to focus. you glanced up from your page, watching geto's brow furrow slightly in concentration, then shifted your gaze to gojo, who was chuckling softly at something on his phone.

a contented sigh escaped your lips as you nestled deeper into the pillows, feeling the warmth and love that filled the room. there was no need for words; just being together like this was enough.

geto noticed your relaxed demeanor and couldn’t help but smile. he closed his book and gently placed it on the bedside table, shifting his attention towards you.

“you’re awfully quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice soft and gentle. gojo, sensing the change in atmosphere, put aside his phone, and turned his gaze towards you. a mischievous look danced in his eyes, his smirk widening into a sly grin.

“are you enjoying the view or lost in thought?” gojo teased, his head tilted to the side as he studied your expression. geto chuckled, unable to hide the affectionate look in his eyes. “knowing you, you’re probably multitasking, thinking and ogling us at the same time.”

you glanced up at geto, offering him a small smile in response to his soft observation, then returned to your book without saying a word. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk; you were simply content, basking in the quiet comfort of their presence.

gojo, however, wasn’t going to let you off so easily. he leaned in closer, the corners of his mouth lifting as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “not even a little kiss for us tonight?” he teased, his voice dripping with playfulness.

you scrunched your nose, pretending to ignore him, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the pages in front of you. but the faint twitch of a smile gave you away.

gojo chuckled, his smirk turning into a cocky grin as he saw through your little act. “oh, you’re playing hard to get tonight, are you?” he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

geto chuckled at your stubbornness. he knew you well, and he could tell that you were struggling to maintain your aloof act. he shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, giving it an affectionate squeeze. he, who had been watching with silent amusement, spoke up, “leave her be, satoru.”

but gojo pretended not to hear him, instead inching closer to you. “come on, just a tiny little kiss...” he practically begged, exaggerating his plea as he inched closer.

you barely had a moment to react before gojo snatched the book from your hands, his grin widening as he held it just out of your reach. “enough reading for tonight,” he declared smugly, setting the book aside on the nightstand. “it’s time you give us some attention.”

you shot him a mock glare, but couldn’t help the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. gojo's antics were relentless, and he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“oh, so now you’re deciding my bedtime routine?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

gojo gave a dramatic sigh, as if the very idea of you resisting was unheard of. “exactly,” he quipped, his tone dripping with playful authority. “i mean, you can’t really blame us for wanting your undivided attention.”

geto, still chuckling at gojo's antics, slipped his arm around you, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “don’t mind him,��� he murmured softly, his eyes warm. “but... i have to admit, he’s right.” his voice softened, and his gaze met yours, a gentle, coaxing look that made your resolve waver.

you rolled your eyes, feeling your heart flutter at their combined attention. “fine, fine,” you conceded with a dramatic sigh, pretending to be exasperated, even though you secretly loved every second of it. “but you two better make it worth my time.”

gojo and geto shared a grin, pleased at your pretend reluctance to give them attention.

“oh, don’t worry,” gojo said with a mock seriousness, “we’ll make sure you’re well entertained... or should we say, ‘well-distracted’?” he winked at you.

geto chuckled, his hand still tracing gentle circles on your back. “what kind of entertainment do you prefer, my dear?” he asked, his voice low and sultry. “something more... physical, perhaps?”

gojo, unable to wait any longer, leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. his voice was a whisper, but the heat behind his words was clear. “i vote for physical.”

geto, sensing the tension, shifted his body closer to you, his chest now pressed against your back. his hand, which had been tracing gentle circles, now moved to your hip, his fingers gripping subtly. “i second that vote,” he murmured, his mouth now close to your neck.

a soft hum escaped your lips, the warmth of their proximity sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. you let out a quiet chuckle, savoring the anticipation in the air as their teasing words lingered. without another word, you slowly shifted, turning onto your back, so you could face them both. their gazes met yours—gojo’s eyes glinting with playful mischief and geto’s with a steady, affectionate warmth.

with a smirk, you leaned in just enough for your breath to brush against their skin, whispering, “i vote for the physical.”

gojo’s smirk grew impossibly wider, his eyes lighting up with a delighted spark as he chuckled softly. “finally, a unanimous vote.” his fingers found yours, intertwining as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion.

geto, not one to be outdone, leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of your jaw, his hand resting comfortably on your waist. “looks like we’re all in agreement,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a gentle, comforting hum that only made your heart beat faster.

you sighed, content and caught between them, feeling completely wrapped up in their warmth and attention.

gojo, ever the impatient one, wasted no time. he moved closer, his free hand slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing lazy lines against your stomach. the touch was light, a mere preview of things to come.

geto, the more patient of the two, continued to pepper soft kisses along your jaw, his fingers tracing light patterns on your hip. gojo, leaning even closer, his breath hot on your skin, whispered in your ear, “just say the word, and we’ll show you some real ‘physical entertainment.’”

geto chuckled, his lips against your jaw now moving down to your neck. he left a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him. “we aim to please, y’know,” he added, his voice a hot breath against your skin.

your hand slipped up to cup gojo’s face, your fingers brushing softly along his hair as you guided his gaze to meet yours. the playful glint in his eyes softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of something more intense as he held your gaze.

“kiss me,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, each word laced with anticipation.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with a mix of eagerness and possessiveness. without a moment's hesitation, he moved in, closing the small gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss.

his hand slid from your stomach to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his touch firm yet loving. gojo’s other hand cradled your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

as gojo poured his passion into the kiss, geto's hands wandered, sliding from your hip to your thighs, slowly moving up and under your shirt, his fingers lightly tracing against your skin. his head dipped, his mouth now on your neck, his kisses gradually becoming more heated as he began to leave a trail of soft hickies.

as gojo’s kisses trailed down to your jaw, then to the other side of your neck, his lips leaving a blazing path, a breathless moan slipped from your lips. your hands tangled in both their hair, grounding yourself in the heat of their touches. you felt the slow brush of geto’s fingers sliding up your thighs, his touch gentle yet purposeful, as his mouth continued to leave a trail of soft marks on your skin.

but as your gaze drifted up, your eyes landed on the ceiling—and there, among the glowing stars you’d carefully arranged, you noticed a few missing. a pout formed on your lips, and you sighed out, “aww… some of the stars are gone.”

as soon as the disappointed sigh left your lips, both gojo and geto let out exasperated groans against your neck, their frustration almost in perfect sync. you felt their warm breaths against your skin, both of them pausing their affections as they processed yet another one of your “star interruptions.”

gojo leaned back slightly, his forehead pressing to yours, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. “really? again with the stars?” he asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the situation. “we’re in the middle of something here, you know…”

geto sighed, though there was a fond smile on his face as he tilted his head to look up at the ceiling with you. his hand stayed firm on your waist, grounding you as he shook his head softly. “one day, we’re going to get through a night without you being distracted by constellations,” he teased, though his tone was warm and affectionate.

they both knew this wasn’t the first—or even the fifth—time you’d interrupted a heated moment with a sudden focus on the stars. it had practically become a ritual at this point. and although it was frustrating, the way you’d get so wrapped up in something as simple as the glowing shapes overhead was something they couldn’t help but adore about you.

you scrunched up your nose, pouting slightly as you looked at both of them. “i just don’t like missing stars,” you mumbled, sounding adorably stubborn, your eyes flicking up to the ceiling before back to their amused faces.

gojo and geto exchanged a knowing look, sighing in unison before both of them turned onto their backs, settling beside you but still keeping close. geto’s hand remained gently on your waist, his thumb tracing idle circles, while gojo let out a playful scoff, his arm resting just behind your head.

“only you would care this much about glow-in-the-dark stickers,” gojo chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk, though his tone was filled with affection.

geto couldn’t help but laugh softly, his fingers still tracing the same idle circles on your waist. “you really have a thing for those stars, huh?” he teased, his fond smile mirroring gojo’s.

gojo chimed in, propping himself up on his elbow to hover over you slightly. “you’d think they were real, the way you’re so fixated on them.” his smirk widened as he teased, his tone still playful. despite their slight teasing, both gojo and geto made no move to resume the heated moment from before. instead, they settled comfortably on either side of you.

you tilted your head to look up at gojo, rolling your eyes with a playful scoff. “i’m not stupid, satoru,” you huffed, crossing your arms with an exaggerated pout. “of course i don’t think they’re real stars.”

gojo grinned wider, clearly enjoying your reaction, while geto chuckled softly beside you, his fingers still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. “could’ve fooled us,” gojo teased, arching a brow as he settled back down beside you, still grinning like he’d won something.

you nudged his shoulder lightly, shooting him a mock glare. “just because i like them doesn’t mean i think they’re real.” your voice softened as you added, “they just… make me happy, okay?”

the playful grins on gojo’s and geto’s faces softened slightly at your admission. they both knew how much those stars meant to you, even if they didn’t fully understand your fixation.

gojo’s hand found yours, intertwining your fingers together in a gentle squeeze. “ah, so it’s an emotional attachment,” he teased, his tone more teasing than mocking.

geto, still tracing his thumb over your waist, chuckled and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your shoulder. “adorable as it is, it sure kills the mood…”

you rolled your eyes at their teasing, glancing back up at the stars with a faint smile. “it’s not an emotional attachment,” you insisted, though the truth lingered just beneath your words. your gaze softened as you fell silent, memories from childhood drifting through your mind.

a quiet moment passed, the playful mood shifting as you thought back to simpler days. you remembered how, as a kid, you’d admired the glowing stars on the ceilings of friends’ bedrooms—their dads hanging them up like tiny constellations just for them. in a way, those stars had always felt like a small, unreachable piece of normal life, something untouched by the rules and expectations of growing up in a sorcerer family.

you hesitated, then finally let out a soft sigh. “when i was a kid, i used to see them in my friends’ rooms,” you murmured, your voice just above a whisper. “i always wanted some for myself, but… well, my family wasn’t really the type to hang glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.”

both gojo and geto listened in silence, their teasing remarks forgotten as they noticed the shift in your mood from playful to nostalgic.

gojo’s grip tightened around your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles in a soft, reassuring gesture, while geto’s touch on your waist moved to gently rub small circles on your back, trying to offer a small comfort.

they exchanged a glance over your head, silently communicating, before focusing their attention back on you. gojo remained silent for a moment, waiting for you to continue, while geto let out a soft, encouraging hum.

gojo leaned in close, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his voice a gentle murmur against your skin. “first thing tomorrow, we’re getting as many as you want,” he promised, his usual playful tone softened with sincerity. “we’ll cover the whole ceiling—no, the whole house if you want.” he smiled, his eyes glinting with a determination to make up for what you’d missed.

he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze filled with a mix of affection and resolve. “you’re gonna have the brightest ceiling in the world, and every time you look up, you’ll see all the stars you want, made just for you.”

you turned your head to the side, meeting gojo’s gaze with a soft smile. there was a warmth in his eyes that made your heart swell, and you could feel the sincerity in every word he had just spoken. without another thought, you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his.

“thank you, satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. the words were simple, but they carried so much emotion, a quiet gratitude for his understanding and the gentle way he was willing to make up for what you’d missed.

gojo’s smile softened at your words, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and tenderness. he knew how much those stars meant to you, and he was determined to make up for lost time. “don’t worry, my love,” he whispered, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “you’ll have a whole sky full of stars, just as you always wanted.”

geto, still tucked close beside you, listened in silence. his hand continued tracing soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle and comforting. he remained quiet, letting gojo take the lead.

you looked between them, a playful glint in your eyes as you couldn’t resist teasing. “you know,” you said with a smirk, “you two are going to be the best fathers.”

a moment of stunned silence followed your words. both gojo and geto were caught completely off guard, their jaws hanging open in surprise.

gojo recovered first, his stunned expression morphing into a mix of surprise and pride. a wide, almost giddy grin spread across his face. “fathers, huh?” he echoed, a hint of wonder in his voice.

geto chuckled, his hand on your back stilling for a moment before resuming its gentle circles. he shook his head, a softer smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he teased gently.

you chuckled softly, the warmth of the moment making you a little bolder. “do you two think we’d actually start a family someday?” you asked, the question slipping out without much thought as your gaze drifted back up to the ceiling.

you didn’t notice how your words seemed to hang in the air, nor did you catch the unreadable expressions that briefly crossed their faces. gojo’s grin faded slightly, replaced by something unreadable, a flicker of deep thought behind his usually carefree eyes. geto’s hand on your back stilled again, his gaze turning contemplative as he glanced at gojo, a silent understanding passing between them.

as you looked up at the ceiling, blissfully unaware of the deeper meanings your words had unintentionally stirred, gojo and geto were quietly reflecting on your casual question. the air seemed to shift subtly with a hint of weight.

gojo’s grin disappeared, replaced by a soft, pensive expression. he averted his gaze, his eyes wandering to the ceiling to avoid your gaze. geto, on the other hand, was silently looking at gojo, his own thoughts mirroring the same contemplative expression.

the room was silent for a moment, broken only by the sound of your slightly heavy breaths. both gojo and geto remained thoughtfully quiet, their gazes trained on the ceiling.

finally, gojo broke the silence, his voice barely above a murmur. “it’s… an interesting thought, isn’t it?” he began, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying a hint of seriousness. geto kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his fingers resuming their gentle circles on your back. he hummed softly, a non-committal noise of agreement.

you turned your head slightly, gaze drifting to gojo’s face. he wore that familiar, unreadable expression—one that masked so much, but over the years, you’d learned to pick up on the faint traces of emotion he sometimes couldn’t fully hide. his eyes, usually so full of mischief or confidence, held a hint of something softer now, a depth he rarely let show.

after a moment, you let out a quiet “yeah,” a gentle agreement that felt like it carried the weight of a promise, even if unspoken. returning your gaze to the ceiling, you traced the shapes of the stars you’d carefully arranged above, feeling the warmth of their presence around you. it was comforting to imagine a future like this—a family, a home filled with stars, laughter, and quiet moments like these.

gojo glanced down at you, his eyes softening as he noticed the shift in your expression. he knew you well enough to recognize that gleam in your eyes—the one that hinted at a distant hope and longing. the corners of his mouth twitched into a small, almost secretive smile.

geto, too, observed the silent exchange, his own heart swelling with a mixture of tenderness and melancholy. he knew the ache for such a future all too well. gojo’s voice broke the silence again, gently drawing your focus back to the conversation. “you’d actually want that, huh?”

your voice was barely above a whisper as you replied, “i don’t want it if you don’t.” you kept your gaze on the ceiling, the faint glow of the stars casting soft shadows across the room, but you didn’t need to look to feel the subtle shift in their emotions. it was as if they both tensed, caught between the vulnerability of the moment and their instinct to shield you from it.

you could feel gojo’s hand go still, his thumb frozen mid-stroke against your knuckles. his usual confidence seemed to waver, a quiet uncertainty flickering beneath his calm exterior. meanwhile, geto’s fingers on your back faltered, his touch gentle, yet hesitant—as if he, too, was processing emotions he wasn’t ready to voice.

you waited, the silence stretching between the three of you. it felt like they were trying to redirect, maybe even shift the conversation toward something safer. but you stayed quiet, not wanting to push, but hoping they’d know that whatever path they chose, you’d walk it together, even if it means there is will be no family.

the room fell into a silence thick with emotion. gojo and geto struggled to maintain their usual composure, their thoughts and feelings clearly shaken by your response.

gojo’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his gaze shifting from the ceiling to your face. he wanted to reply, to say something, but the words seemed to elude him. finally, geto broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “it’s not that we don’t want it, love,” he began, his fingers resuming their gentle circles on your back.

both gojo and geto were grappling with a mixture of emotions, their responses a delicate balance between honesty and the need to protect you. they both knew that bringing a child into this world, as powerful sorcerers, came with a whole new set of challenges and dangers, and the thought of putting a child through that was a heavy burden to bear.

“it’s just… complicated, “ gojo admitted, his voice low and heavy. “we would give anything to watch you become a mother, to see you care for and nurture a little bundle of joy, but...”

his voice trailed off, his gaze wandering to the ceiling once more. geto continued for him, his tone gentle yet tinged with sadness. “it’s not a simple world, love. we’re constantly facing threats and dangers most people can’t even imagine. bringing a child into that world... it would mean putting that child at risk.”

their words settled over you like a weight, pressing down on your chest. you didn’t respond immediately, simply letting their voices fade into the quiet of the room. you’d known this reality, had seen firsthand the constant battles and dangers they faced as sorcerers. but hearing it laid out like this—so openly, so vulnerably—made it all feel painfully real.

as you kept your gaze fixed on the glowing stars above, a dull ache bloomed in your heart, a quiet longing mixed with acceptance. part of you had always dreamed of that future, of a family, of a little one with their combined stubbornness, strength, and warmth. yet, you knew the truth: the life you shared with them was far from ordinary, far from safe.

the silence stretched, each of you lost in your own thoughts, until finally, you whispered, barely audible, “i know...”

your words hung in the air, soft and wistful. you didn’t need them to make any promises or change their minds—you just wanted them to know that the thought of a future, even a fragile one, was something you held onto, even if it was just a dream.

the silence that followed your soft, wistful admission was heavy with unspoken emotions. gojo and geto both stared upwards, their eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if searching for the right words to say.

after a moment, gojo’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb tracing circles on your knuckles in a silent, comforting gesture. geto, still tracing those same circles on your back, let out a deep sigh, his heart heavy with a mixture of love and sorrow.

and then, in a hushed voice, geto spoke up, his words careful. “it’s not that we’re ruling it out entirely,” he continued, his voice low. “but it’s not a decision we should make lightly, knowing the risks involved.”

gojo nodded, his gaze shifting to you, his eyes slightly widened as he searched for the right words to comfort you. “it’s not like we don’t want it, love,” he repeated, his tone sincere. “we just… we want to give you everything you deserve, including a safe and normal life.”

there was another pause as the weight of their words sunk in. both gojo and geto were silently contemplating this complex, uncharted territory, struggling to find a way to express their emotions and fears.

then, gojo finally spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. “you know we both love you more than anything,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “we just want to make sure you’re happy, and that any child we bring into this world is safe. that’s our main priority.”

“we’re not saying no forever,” geto added, his voice softer now. “just… not right now.” he paused for a moment, his hand pausing its soothing motion on your back as he chose his words carefully.

“we’d want nothing more than to see you as a mother, but the life we lead… it’s not an easy one. and bringing a child into this world would be a responsibility we’d take seriously.”

the room fell into a heavy silence as your heart felt the weight of their words, the ache in your chest growing stronger with each passing moment. you didn’t say anything, your eyes still trained on the ceiling, though your thoughts swirled in a mix of disappointment, longing, and acceptance. it was hard to put into words the sudden heartbreak that came with realizing a dream might never be realized, at least not the way you had imagined.

geto noticed the subtle shift in your expression, the way your body seemed to fold in on itself, a sign that you were retreating into your own thoughts, maybe even into yourself. his heart tugged at the sight of you in such a quiet, vulnerable state. he could see the storm behind your eyes, the words you weren’t saying but felt deep inside.

sighing softly, he leaned in, his voice tender as he whispered, “come here.”

he slid his arm under your head, gently pulling you closer until your body melted into his. you didn’t resist, turning to lay on your side and burying your face in his chest. the warmth of his embrace surrounded you like a quiet sanctuary, the steady rise and fall of his chest offering a moment of comfort.

your arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, the action grounding you, as you sought solace in his familiar presence.

as you buried your face in geto’s chest, gojo let out a soft sigh, watching the exchange silently. his expression was a mixture of understanding and sadness. he knew your dreams, your hopes and longings, and seeing you so silently devastated was more painful than he could’ve imagined.

slowly, he moved closer, his body molding against your back as he wrapped his arms around you both, enveloping you in a protective embrace. his breaths were slow and steady, his chin resting softly on your shoulder.

the three of you lay there in a tangle of limbs and emotions, each of you lost in your own thoughts. the room remained quiet, the only sound being the soft inhale and exhale of breaths.

after several moments, gojo broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know it’s not what you wanted to hear, love.” geto’s arm tightened around you, his hand continuing to gently brush against your back, offering silent reassurance. he remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, leaving it to gojo to continue.

gojo sighed, his breath caressing your skin as he spoke. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice laced with guilt and regret. “i wish it could be different. we all do. but…”

he broke off, clearly struggling to find the right words, his hands clenching slightly around the fabric of your clothes. “we just want the best for you,” he murmured after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “and as much as we want to give you anything you desire, we can’t risk putting you in harm’s way.”

the room remained still, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing, as you lay between gojo and geto. the weight of the conversation still lingered in the air, but the tension seemed to ease as time passed. their presence, their warmth, was a comforting reminder that, in this moment, you didn’t have to carry the burden alone.

gojo had shifted slightly, his hand now resting on your back, fingers gently stroking the skin beneath your shirt. geto’s grip was steady around your waist, his presence solid and unwavering. both of them didn’t say anything further, allowing you to sink into the quiet comfort of their touch, not rushing you to speak or to feel anything you weren’t ready to.

the air was thick with unsaid words, but in that stillness, something comforting bloomed. the kind of quiet that spoke volumes in its own way. your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion from the emotional weight of the conversation finally taking its toll. your breath deepened, and slowly, the world around you started to fade.

the last thing you felt was the warmth of their bodies close to you, the steady heartbeat of geto beneath your ear, and the gentle pulse of gojo’s hand moving slowly over your skin. with a quiet sigh, you let yourself surrender to the moment, allowing sleep to pull you under, leaving the worries and complexities of the world behind for just a while.

as you slowly drifted off to sleep, both gojo and geto silently watched, their eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and worry. they remained still, not moving an inch, not wanting to disturb your finally relaxed expression.

the room was now filled with a deep sense of quiet, the silence broken only by the soft sound of your breaths and the steady beats of their hearts. they stayed like that, their arms wrapped around you, not willing to let go just yet. gojo, ever the more restless of the two, reached for the blanket and carefully pulled it over you.

geto’s eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, his mind swirling with thoughts. “i hate this,” he muttered softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip.

gojo let out a low hum of agreement. “yeah, me too,” he replied, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. his hand continued to move gently over your skin, his touch a soothing comfort.

“it’’ll take some time,” gojo continued. “for her to accept it, i mean.” he paused, swallowing a lump in his throat.

gojo hummed softly, a small, smile tugging at his lips as he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. his hand found geto’s, gently intertwining their fingers, the quiet comfort of their touch a silent promise to stick together through the complexities that lay ahead.

“just a little while,” gojo whispered, his voice soft, almost tender as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. his lips lingered there for a moment, a quiet vow, a reassurance to both you and himself that, no matter the uncertainties, they would face them together. the night fell around them in peaceful silence, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten in the safety of their arms.

geto, noticing the subtle shift in gojo’s demeanor, smiled to himself, his fingers gently intertwining with gojo’s in return. he watched silently as gojo leaned down, pressing a kiss on your forehead before settling back down.

“yeah,” geto murmured, his own voice carrying a hint of determination. “just a little while. she’ll come around. she always does.” he paused, his eyes flickering to gojo’s face briefly. there was a silent understanding between them, a silent reassurance that they would weather whatever storm came their way, together.

the following morning, as the three of you prepared for work, gojo and geto were in the bedroom, focused on getting into their uniforms and gathering their things. however, despite the usual morning routine, you were nowhere to be seen.

gojo pulled the black compression shirt over his head, glancing over at geto as he adjusted his own uniform. his brow furrowed in mild confusion, the quiet of the room making it a bit strange that you hadn’t appeared yet.

“hey, where is she?” gojo asked, his voice a little more casual than his growing concern. “i haven’t seen her in, what—twenty minutes?"”he added, pulling at the collar of his shirt to straighten it, a faint edge of worry creeping into his tone. his eyes scanned the room, as if expecting you to pop out from somewhere.

geto, busy fixing his own uniform, glanced up at gojo’s question, a hint of concern mirrored in his expression. “now that you mention it, she’s taking longer than usual.” he said, his eyes darting around the room as well, almost as if he expected you to magically appear from behind a lamp or under a sofa.

his hand paused in the process of buttoning his shirt as that familiar flutter of worry settled in his chest. “maybe she’s in the bathroom?” he suggested, his voice betraying just a hint of unease.

gojo nodded in agreement, though his brow remained furrowed. “yeah, probably,” he replied, his movements a little more restless as he paced around the room. the silence that followed made the air feel heavy, the usual lightness of the situation now replaced by a palpable sense of anxiety.

he turned towards the bathroom, his hand reaching out for the door handle. “i’ll just check on her,” he said, his voice taking on a more firm tone as he prepared to push the door.

on the other side of the bathroom door, you stood there, gripping the edge of the towel wrapped tightly around your body, the soft fabric bunched under your clenched fingers. you looked down at the small, plastic test in your hand, eyes fixed on the faint, unmistakable two lines. each heartbeat felt louder than the last, pounding against your chest with a mix of dread and overwhelming anxiety.

it wasn’t happiness filling you—not the joy or excitement you’d thought might come if you ever held a test like this. instead, a wave of panic rose, cold and sharp, twisting tightly in your stomach. your hand, gripping the towel, started to tremble, and you couldn’t stop it.

strands of your wet hair clung to your bare shoulders, the droplets cooling against your skin but doing little to steady you. your forehead felt damp, from the lingering steam of the shower and from the sudden heat of panic rising within you.

your mind began to replay the conversation from the night before, fragments of their words coming back in echoes—soft, serious voices admitting fears and reasons. you remembered gojo’s tender but worried tone as he said, “we want you happy, but bringing a child into our world… it’s not the right time.” and geto’s gentle yet sad agreement, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he whispered, “not right now.”

and here you were, facing the reality of it, holding proof of something neither of them were ready for. your gaze drifted over the faded lines on the test, your chest tightening painfully as you tried to breathe through the waves of panic. it felt like the ground beneath you had shifted, leaving you unsteady, your hand shaking even as you tried to steady yourself.

the air in the bathroom felt stifling, the walls closing in on you. the sharp edge of panic pressed down, constricting your chest as you stared down at the two lines. your damp hair clung to your skin, feeling cold and damp against your shoulders, but it did nothing to cool the heat of fear coursing through you.

you felt like you were drowning in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. the memory of last night’s conversation echoed through your mind, the gentle yet firm words of geto and gojo replaying in your head.

a sudden knock on the door made you jump, nearly dropping the test pack. gojo’s voice filtered through, soft but laced with concern. “hey… everything alright in there, love?” he asked, his tone casual but curious as he meet with geto’s gaze.

swallowing hard, you forced your voice to sound steady, even though it felt like every breath was caught in your throat. “y-yeah, i’m alright,” you managed to say, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. your gaze flickered to the door, heart pounding faster with the fear of what lay ahead. you could picture gojo’s face, his lighthearted smile shifting into something more serious, and the thought was enough to make your stomach twist.

you looked down at the test in your hand, the two faint lines glaring back at you like an undeniable truth. images flashed through your mind—imagining their reactions, the shock, the inevitable disappointment, and maybe even anger. you thought of the conversation from last night, their careful words about timing and the dangers of their world, and your chest tightened further. how could you tell them now?

another knock, firmer this time, pulled you back, followed by gojo’s slightly more insistent voice. “love are you hurt? you’ve been in there forever…”

his tone was still light, but the concern was undeniable, and you could imagine his brows drawn together, maybe even a worried frown. you knew you couldn’t stay hidden in here much longer, couldn’t keep the truth hidden from them… but you had no idea how to say it, or what would come after.

gojo’s voice carried through the door again, sounding a little more urgent now. “come on, say something,” he coaxed, his tone still light, but the concern was clear. “you’re starting to scaring us…”

he paused for a moment, listening closely for any hint that you were okay, while geto stood behind him, his usually unreadable expression betraying a hint of worry. the silence that followed was deafening, and gojo’s hand hovered over the door handle, clearly contemplating action.

his patience wearing thin, gojo eventually knocked again, firmly this time, his hand clenching the handle. “please, just say something,” he said, his voice a little more stern, the worry now edged with frustration.

gojo’s mind was racing, a thousand different scenarios playing out at once. each passing moment, the silence from the other side of the door only heightened his anxiety, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each second.

geto spoke up then, his voice joining gojo's. “love, please,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “open the door, or we’re coming in.”

the air was thick with tension as they waited, giving you a moment to respond, to open the door, to do anything to alleviate their growing concern. but when no response came, gojo’s hand grasped the door handle, ready to push it open.

the door creaked open slowly, and you stood there, framed in the doorway with a fragile, almost vulnerable expression that made both gojo and geto go completely silent. their gazes softened instantly, and they could see the unshed tears shimmering in your eyes, the way your hand trembled as you held onto the door, and the nervous, uncertain look on your face.

gojo’s usual lighthearted demeanor disappeared as he took a small step closer, his brows knitting with concern. “hey… what’s going on?” he asked softly, his voice gentle as though afraid to startle you.

geto’s eyes flicked to your hand, clenched tightly behind your back, noticing the way you seemed to be trying to hold something out of sight. he shared a quick look with gojo before he took a steadying breath, his voice low and calming. “we’re here,” he murmured. “whatever it is, you can tell us.”

you took a shaky breath, gathering the last bit of courage you had, feeling the weight of the words stuck in your throat. “i… i need to tell you something,” you whispered, barely able to meet their eyes. you glanced down, biting your lip, feeling the anxiety and panic rise in waves. every word felt like a mountain to climb.

their expressions turned serious, sensing the gravity of the moment. gojo reached out, taking your trembling hand in his and squeezing it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he waited with quiet patience. geto stepped closer too, his hand resting on your shoulder, grounding you in his steady presence.

“take your time,” gojo encouraged softly, his voice a tender murmur. “whatever it is, we’re not going anywhere.”

you stood there in silence, eyes downcast, feeling a tear slip past your resolve despite your best efforts to hold it back. the weight of the decision, the heartache, and the fear mingled together in a painful tangle, twisting in your chest. you knew what had to be done, knew that bringing this up meant making a choice you never wanted to face alone—but the thought of their reaction left you frozen.

gojo’s fingers tightened around yours as he noticed the tear slipping down your cheek, his eyes widening with worry. he tilted his head to try and catch your gaze, his own expression softening with concern. “hey… please, talk to us,” he murmured gently, his voice a mix of desperation and warmth.

geto’s hand on your shoulder gently guided you closer, his thumb rubbing small circles in an attempt to soothe you. he could feel the tension, the weight of something unsaid hanging in the air, and he waited patiently, his own heart aching at the sight of you struggling. gently, he guided you to the bed, sitting you at the edge.

gojo and geto sat on either side of you, their gazes fixed on your face, watching the flurry of emotions flicker across your features. gojo's hand remained clasped around yours, his touch a silent reminder that they were there for you, whatever you had to tell them. geto's hand continued stroking your shoulder, a soft and steady rhythm that spoke of comfort and quiet reassurance.

the silence felt heavy, almost suffocating, as they waited for whatever you were ready to say. the air was thick with anticipation, both of them bracing themselves for whatever revelation might be coming.

gojo’s eyes narrowed as he noticed you hide your other hand behind your back, a subtle but unmistakable movement that sent a wave of unease through him. something was wrong, he could feel it. without saying a word, his hand reached out, gentle but insistent, as he tried to pull your hidden hand from behind your back.

you stiffened, your fingers curling tighter around whatever it was, as if trying to shield it from him. gojo's gaze softened, the concern growing in his chest. “my love,” he said, his voice a tender murmur, yet the underlying firmness was unmistakable. it wasn’t a demand, but a soft warning, a gentle plea for you to let him in.

you hesitated, your grip firming even more in a silent protest, but after a moment, you relented. your hand trembled slightly as he slowly eased it from behind your back, and as his fingers wrapped around yours, the testpack in your hand was finally revealed.

gojo’s heart skipped a beat as he saw it. he didn’t need to say anything. the sight of it—the faint two lines—spoke volumes. his gaze flickered from the testpack to your face, your tear-streaked expression twisting with emotion. his frown deepened, not in anger, but in confusion, concern, and something that could only be described as a heavy ache in his chest.

you whispered barely above a breath, the words tumbling out with a rawness that pierced through the silence. “i’m… i’m pregnant,” you said, your voice breaking, filled with sorrow. “i’m so sorry...”

gojo’s gaze remained fixed on the test pack for a few seconds, his mind struggling to process the words that just came out of your mouth. he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest, a mix of shock and disbelief coursing through his veins. he glanced up at you, his eyes taking in your distraught expression, the tear-streaked cheeks, and the way you were clenching your jaw.

he opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. geto, meanwhile, remained silent on your other side, equally stunned and trying to process the news.

the moment the words left your lips, a heavy silence settled between the three of you. gojo and geto exchanged a quick glance, a silent conversation passing between them. their eyes were filled with unspoken questions, concern, and something deeper—fear, perhaps. they both understood the weight of the decision you were implying, but neither one of them was prepared for it.

but before either of them could speak, you whispered again, your voice barely audible. “you don’t have to worry,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if saying them would make everything easier. “i’ve decided... i’ll terminate the baby.”

the air around you grew thick with tension, each word sinking into the space like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples through the atmosphere. your hands trembled, and even though you tried to mask it, the pain in your eyes was undeniable.

gojo’s heart dropped, and geto’s expression darkened, the weight of your decision settling heavily on both of them. they couldn’t even begin to process the gravity of it, and yet, they knew how deeply conflicted you must’ve been to come to that conclusion.

the moment geto heard the words “terminate the baby,” his heart seemed to stop. his face twisted with a mixture of shock and disbelief, the gravity of your statement weighing heavily on him. without hesitation, he quickly responded, his voice thick with emotion, “no.”

there was a brief pause before he spoke again, this time his tone softer, more pleading. the corner of his lips twitched, as if trying to fight back the ache in his chest. “please, don’t,” he whispered, his voice strained but full of desperation. “it’s our baby,” he continued, his hand gently running through your wet hair, his fingers trembling slightly as they found their way to your scalp, offering a touch of comfort even as he struggled to control the flood of emotions within him.

his words, so gentle yet laced with an undeniable pain, were a stark contrast to the harshness of his initial reaction. he wanted to be strong for you, for the both of you, but in that moment, he was vulnerable, his love for you and the child you carried too strong to ignore. his other hand rested on your shoulder, trying to ground you, to offer reassurance that this decision didn’t have to be made alone, that they would support you no matter what you chose.

“satoru and i... we’re here,” geto murmured, his voice barely audible as he gazed at you with a mixture of love and concern. he was desperate for you to understand that there was no need to face this alone, that they were both willing to take on this responsibility with you, together.

your head snapped up at geto's words, your eyes wide with confusion, as if you couldn't understand what he was saying. the tremble in your hands grew more apparent as you blinked, your mind racing to catch up with the reality of the situation. “but... i thought you didn't want the baby,” you choked out, your voice breaking with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

the words seemed to tumble out of you, your thoughts jumbled, but there was a clarity in the pain in your chest. you hadn't imagined this moment going like this. you'd prepared yourself for the worst—the disappointment, the anger, the rejection. but instead, here they were, offering you support and pleading with you to reconsider.

your chest tightened, and the weight of your emotions pressed down on you like a vice. your eyes were still red from the tears you had fought so hard to keep back, but now, they welled up again, threatening to spill over. your voice cracked as you tried to make sense of it all, your heart torn between the fear of what could come and the love they were offering.

“i thought you... didn’t want this,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself, your eyes searching their faces for some sign that this wasn’t all a misunderstanding. “you said... you weren’t ready.”

geto’s heart ached as he heard your voice break, the confusion and hurt apparent in your words. he could see how much this decision was weighing on you, the weight of the situation clear on your face. he shared a quick glance with gojo, both their expressions mirrored with pain and uncertainty. he knew you hadn’t expected this reaction, hadn’t prepared yourself for their support.

“we...” his voice cracked at first, his own emotions threatening to break through, but he steadied himself and continued. “we never said we didn’t want this.”

gojo, who had been quietly listening for the most part, found his voice in that moment, his words a gentle but firm reassurance. “baby, we were surprised,” he said, drawing your attention to him. his expression softened as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and love.

gojo reached out, his fingers gently taking some of your damp hair and tucking it behind your ear, his touch a tender caress. “but we would never in a million years refuse the gift of a child that we love and want with all our hearts.”

you felt a wave of relief and confusion wash over you as gojo spoke, his voice steady and warm. it was as if the air had shifted, and your heart began to slowly unclench, but the anxiety still clung to you. his words, though reassuring, had made you realize just how panicked you had become, all the while assuming the worst.

you bowed your head, guilt flooding through you as you tried to gather your scattered thoughts. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, the words slipping out shakily. your voice was small, fragile, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile sense of hope you were starting to feel.

“i... i just got so confused,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “i was just so scared... especially after what you said last night. i didn’t know what to think.”

your hand tightened around the edge of the blanket, the tension in your body slowly easing as you tried to make sense of it all. you couldn't meet their eyes fully yet, still too embarrassed by your own reaction. you had misunderstood them, let fear dictate your actions, and now you felt as if you had been too quick to assume the worst of them.

“i was just... so scared,” you repeated quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried the weight of your emotions.

as you spoke, expressing your fear and confusion, gojo and geto’s expressions remained soft, their eyes filled with a mix of understanding and tenderness.

gojo gently placed his hand on top of yours, his fingers interlacing with yours in a comforting grip. “love, please listen,” he murmured, his voice soft yet firm. he paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before he continued.

“i’m sorry we made you feel that way,” he began. “i didn’t mean to give you the impression that we don’t want this baby.”

geto, on your other side, leaned in closer, his face close to you, his eyes fixed on yours. he reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle but reassuring. “we were just surprised, that’s all,” he muttered softly. “we hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.”

gojo gently pulled you into his lap, settling you comfortably against him with your legs dangling lightly in the air. his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his warmth seeping into your body. his fingers traced lightly over the towel wrapped around you, his touch soft but full of meaning as he let his hand rest on your stomach.

he met your gaze with a steady, reassuring smile, his eyes full of unwavering support. “hey,” he murmured softly, his voice calm yet filled with conviction. “me and suguru, we’re not going anywhere. we’re always going to be here for you, through everything. you don’t have to face this alone.”

he smiled again, his thumb running gently over your stomach, a quiet promise in his gesture. “for a while, you’ll come around, love. i know it’s a lot right now, but you’ll see. everything’s going to be okay. you’re going to be the luckiest girl, and our child? they’ll be the luckiest too. because we’re going to keep you safe, comfortable, and happy. here, with us. only us.”

his words, full of love and certainty, wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe it.

geto, watching the interaction between you and gojo, couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and tenderness at the sight. gojo’s words had clearly made an impact on you, and he could see how your rigid body was starting to loosen up slightly, the tension in your muscles slowly ebbing away.

he leaned closer towards you, gently taking your hand in his own. he gave it a reassuring squeeze, his fingers tracing tiny circles on your skin. “he’s right, you know,” he mumbled gently. “we’ll always be here for you. and for our baby.”

your heart swelled with emotion as you looked from geto to gojo, taking in the sincerity in both of their faces. the fear and uncertainty that had been gripping you so tightly finally began to loosen, replaced by a comforting warmth that their words and presence brought.

you nodded softly, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips as you whispered, “thank you… thank you both, so much.” your voice was barely audible, but the gratitude in it was clear.

with a gentle sigh, you leaned your head against gojo’s chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your cheek. his hand remained at your waist, his hold protective yet tender, while geto’s fingers continued to trace gentle circles on your hand, grounding you.

gojo felt your weight lean into him and his heart melted. he shifted a bit, wrapping one arm more fully around you, pulling you even closer. his chin rested on your head, his other hand still on your stomach, fingers tracing soft patterns into your skin, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your breathing.

geto’s eyes followed the movement, a tender smile on his lips. he watched you both for a few moments before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple. “we love you,” he murmured against your skin. “always.”

gojo’s tone was soft yet unwavering as he brushed a hand along your cheek, meeting your eyes with gentle determination. “you’re not going to work today, love,” he murmured, his voice leaving no room for protest. “we’ll talk to yaga, and we’ll be with you the entire day. just rest.”

before you could say anything, gojo leaned down, his arms sliding beneath you as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip both steady and comforting. he held you close to his chest, the warmth of his embrace easing some of the lingering tension in your body. as he carried you over to the bed, you could feel his heartbeat—a constant, soothing rhythm that seemed to match your own.

he set you down gently, his fingers brushing over your skin as he slipped the towel from your shoulders, leaving you bare. his touch was careful, almost reverent, as he tucked you in with the soft blankets, smoothing them over your form to ensure you were wrapped in warmth. his gaze softened as he made sure the blanket cocooned you, his thumb gently tracing along your shoulder, a silent promise of his care.

“just rest now, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with the back of his hand. “you’ve been through enough for today… don’t want to stress our baby mama,” his words were a quiet vow, full of love and unwavering support.

geto watched the scene in silence, his heart full of tenderness as gojo took care of you with such gentle yet assertive actions. he could see the exhaustion in your eyes and knew that you needed this moment of rest. the way gojo was handling the situation showed a side of him that many rarely got to see—a caring and nurturing side that was normally buried under his carefree demeanor.

he moved across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on your leg over the blankets. “don’t stress about anything,” he echoed gojo’s sentiment, his voice a soft, soothing murmur.

you felt the weight of their love and care surrounding you, and despite the emotional rollercoaster you had just been on, a sense of peace washed over you. your body felt lighter as you allowed yourself to relax into the bed, the warmth of the blankets and their presence making everything else fade away.

with a soft, content smile playing on your lips, you looked at both of them, your voice a soft whisper, “i love you,” you said, your eyes filled with an innocent, trusting affection, all naive and clueless. your heart swelled with the deep love you felt for them, and the reassurance they gave you in that moment meant everything.

gojo, sitting close by, smiled down at you warmly, his eyes soft with admiration as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “we love you, too,” he murmured, his voice full of affection.

geto, his hand still resting on your leg, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “always, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, a quiet promise that you’d never be alone.

with those words, your eyelids fluttered closed, the exhaustion from the past hours finally catching up to you. your breathing slowed, and you felt yourself drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing you were safe, loved, and cared for by the two people who would always be there, no matter what came next.

as you finally let yourself relax and drift off in a peaceful sleep, gojo and geto both let out a soft sigh, the relief in the room palpable. they both settled in, each on either side of you, close enough so that you were completely surrounded by their presence.

for a while, there was just silence, both of them quietly watching you sleep, their own thoughts swirling in their heads as they took in the sight of you in this vulnerable state. after a moment, gojo broke the silence. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen her look that scared,” he murmured.

as you finally slipped into a peaceful sleep, the quiet settled over the room, but the atmosphere around gojo and geto seemed to pulse with an unspoken energy. they both let out a collective sigh of relief, the weight of the situation lightening just a little as they watched over you. there was something deeply comforting in knowing you were finally able to rest, and yet, something else simmered beneath the surface—an undercurrent of tension and darker thoughts that only they fully understood.

geto, now standing at the edge of the bed, observed your sleeping form with a level of intensity that sent a shiver down the room’s spine. His usual composed demeanor softened only slightly in the quiet, but there was something unsettling about the way his gaze lingered on you. his fingers subtly curled into the fabric of his pockets, his posture relaxed yet controlled. his eyes, usually calculating and sharp, softened at the sight of you so vulnerable, so at peace, yet underneath that tenderness, a quiet, twisted amusement began to build.

he hummed softly under his breath, as if trying to savor the moment, the silence between the three of them a thick layer of unspoken emotions. he leaned in a little closer, his breath barely audible, his gaze unwavering. As his lips curled into a smile, it wasn’t one of kindness or affection. no, this smile was darker, more sinister—a slow, knowing curve that spread across his face, one that seemed to stretch wider with each passing second. it was as if the moment had awakened a part of him that had been lying dormant, a part that thrived on control, on manipulation.

the smile deepened, almost to the point of being maniacal, as his eyes never left your face. the vulnerability you displayed only made it worse for him, feeding something twisted and possessive within. his eyes darkened as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and controlled, yet thick with an undercurrent of satisfaction. “good,” he whispered, a single word that carried the weight of far more than just the moment. it was a word wrapped in meaning that only gojo could fully comprehend.

his smile grew more pronounced as he repeated the sentiment, his voice soft but deliberate. “she’ll come around. eventually.” the words, so simple, carried the venom of a promise, one that was not comforting but instead laden with a subtle threat.

gojo, though silent for a moment, couldn’t stop himself from responding to geto’s words. his lips tightened, his jaw setting slightly as he tried to suppress the subtle twitch at the corner of his own lips. the smile that pulled at the edge of geto’s lips was infectious, and the darker undertones in the air did not escape him. he understood that geto was speaking in a language they both shared—a language of control and manipulation, where the line between care and cruelty blurred into something much more dangerous.

for just a moment, the two of them stood in a charged silence, each aware of the shifting dynamic between them. the tension between gojo and geto was palpable, an undercurrent that you would remain unaware of for now. but in this brief moment, a shared understanding passed between them—an understanding that their influence over you was just beginning, and that they would both ensure that you came around to their way of thinking, whether you realized it or not.

the unspoken connection between them, the quiet shift in their relationship, was something you would not yet recognize, ever. but it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a storm just waiting to break.

gojo’s lips pressed together in a hard line as he fixed geto with a glare, the tension in his gaze like a quiet warning. for a moment, his usually lighthearted expression had vanished, replaced by something almost dangerous. but even as he tried to maintain his irritation, the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching with the beginnings of a smile that he couldn’t quite suppress.

“cut it out,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with barely concealed annoyance. “she’ll know what we do if you don’t stop acting like a maniac and a fucking psycho.”

geto merely chuckled, his laughter a soft and unnervingly calm sound that held no remorse. his smile didn’t waver—in fact, it only grew wider, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint as he gave gojo an innocent look that didn’t fool him for a second. “what’s the matter?” he asked, voice smooth and teasing, as if daring gojo to go on.

despite himself, gojo felt his own irritation start to melt into something else entirely. the smirk that had threatened to break through finally won out, his lips curving into a smile he couldn’t hold back. his gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the underlying edge in his voice.

“she’ll know we’re the ones who got her pregnant on purpose,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to geto with a knowing glint, “if you doesn’t stop acting like that.”

there was something darkly playful in his words, a mixture of affection and mischief as he spoke. it was a subtle acknowledgment of the deeper intentions that lay beneath their actions, a quiet understanding between him and geto that the two of them were deeply entwined in a plan that only they fully understood. as he looked at you, resting peacefully and oblivious to the weight of the conversation, he felt a surge of possessive affection, a fierce desire to keep you close, safe, and entirely theirs.

geto’s smile only broadened at gojo’s words, his eyes gleaming with a feral flicker that belied the affection and playfulness in his own tone. he chuckled softly, as if enjoying the twisted game they were playing.

“what, and spoil the fun?” he said, his voice lilting with a wicked sort of amusement. his gaze returned to you, his expression one of smug satisfaction as he added, “she’ll figure it out sooner or later. and by then, it’ll be too late for her to run, won’t it?”

gojo rolled his eyes at geto’s words, his irritation still simmering but now mixed with a hint of a smirk. he knew that geto was enjoying this way too much, getting a twisted sort of pleasure out of manipulating the situation to his advantage.

“don’t act like you’re not enjoying this too much,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of amusement despite himself. “you’ve never been good at hiding your sadistic and obsessive streak, suguru.”

“and you aren’t any better,” geto retorted, his voice still dripping with that same unsettling mix of amusement and dark intent. there was a challenge in his words, a subtle dare for gojo to push back. “remember, you’re the one who suggested this in the first place.”

gojo chuckled softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he gazed down at your sleeping face, lingering on the bare curve of your shoulder and the delicate chain around your neck—a necklace adorned with the initials G.S., another quiet mark of their claim. “she doesn’t need to know,” he murmured, almost to himself, fingers lightly tracing the line of the necklace as though sealing the sentiment.

no, you didn’t need to know how they had exchanged smirks and carefully worded reassurances the night before, expertly hiding the way their words danced with a double meaning that only they understood. how the notion of not wanting a child was a game, a pretense, just so they could savor the moment you’d discover otherwise, unprepared and utterly theirs.

you didn’t need to know how each moment of intimacy was orchestrated with care, how they ensured you took every part of them without fail, their silent rituals cementing you deeper into their lives.

you didn’t need to know the subtle ways they interfered, leaving your pills out in the sun or “forgetting” to replace certain things—all with that same twisted devotion. or how they took measures to ensure no barriers stood between you and the life they had planned in secret, an existence where you were wholly theirs.

and you would never need to know. that beneath the surface of their love, a darker obsession lay, a primal need to bind you to them irrevocably, to ensure you’d stay in the house they had built for you, forever enveloped in the illusion of warmth and devotion they wove around you.

geto watched as gojo’s gaze trailed down to your necklace, a possessive glint in his eyes as he touched the initials. he knew the meaning behind that look, the quiet satisfaction that came with staking such a visible claim on you. it was one of their many quiet acts of possession, a twisted way of ensuring you were truly theirs.

he knew the lengths they had gone to for this moment, the careful planning and manipulation that had led to your ignorant bliss, and it only stoked the fire of his twisted desire even further.

his smile widened as he felt the weight of the knowledge that they were shaping your life and future without your knowledge or consent, the dark thrill of it all sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. he relished in the way they had subtly manipulated the situation, making sure you had no choice but to follow their will, and all while keeping you blinded to their true intentions.

“i wonder,” geto murmured, “how long will it take you to realize you’re a trapped bird in our grasp?” he murmured, eyes locked to your beautiful face.

his eyes gleamed with a twisted sort of satisfaction as he watched your peaceful, oblivious sleeping form. you had no idea what was in store for you, no clue how deep their control over you had already become. and by the time you finally figured it all out, it would be far too late to escape.

gojo chuckled at geto’s words, his eyes still fixed on the necklace. “you forget that she loves us,” he said, his tone carrying the confidence of someone who knew he had the upper hand. “and love can be a stronger chain than any force we can use.”

but beneath his flippant tone, there was another layer, a darker current of possessiveness that ran deep. he knew your love for him and geto went beyond what was healthy, a twisted form of affection that they had carefully nurtured. “we’ve loved her for the past ten years, we do what we do because of love.”

geto let out a dismissive snort, not entirely convinced. he knew all too well how easily love could be twisted and manipulated, used as a leash to keep someone under control.

“love isn’t always a good thing, you know that,” he muttered, his smile taking on a darker edge as he mused, “sometimes it’s just a pretty word for obsession.”

he met gojo’s gaze, his eyes cold and calculating. “and you and i both know our love for her is more possessive than it is healthy,” geto added, his voice almost gleeful at the admission.

“it’s healthy, we love her.”

geto’s smile widened at gojo’s words, his gaze calculating as he leaned back slightly, his arms folding over his chest in a manner that spoke of dominance and control. “you’re fooling yourself, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low, almost like a taunt. “love isn’t always as pure as we tell ourselves it is. sometimes, it’s just a way to justify what we want.”

he let the words linger in the air, his eyes locking with gojo’s, daring him to deny the truth. geto didn’t believe in the comforting illusions of love, not anymore. he knew the truth about the darkness that could lie beneath it, how easily love could be turned into something possessive, something suffocating.

“satoru, don’t act like we don’t both know. we’re not here because of some innocent love,” geto said, his voice a mix of amusement and malice. “we’re here because we can't stand the thought of losing her.”

gojo remained silent for a moment, his lips thinning, the air between them charged with an unspoken understanding. but then, his gaze softened, just a fraction. “we love her,” he said firmly, shaking his head as if trying to shake off geto's words. “it’s not unhealthy. we give her everything she wants, everything she needs. we don’t force her to do anything, we’ve never done anything to make her unhappy. we want to make her life perfect.”

he paused, his eyes looking toward you, still peacefully asleep between them. “it’s just... a little more love. getting her pregnant—it’s just a way to make sure she’s always ours, that we’re never apart.”

there was a certain heaviness in gojo’s words, a quiet vulnerability beneath his usual bravado. he knew, deep down, that they were both terrified of the possibility of losing you—terrified of the thought that you could slip away from them. their love, twisted as it may be, was rooted in that fear.

“it’s the right thing,” gojo continued, his voice tinged with something raw and desperate. “we just... we can’t lose her.”

geto regarded gojo silently, studying his face intently. there was a small part of him that felt a pang of sympathy at the vulnerability in gojo's words, at the fear that he saw lurking beneath his facade. but he pushed it down, refusing to let it soften him.

“you’re delusional,” he said bluntly, shaking his head. “you can call it love all you like, but the truth is, it's possession. you want to own her completely, to make her dependent on us. and you’ll stop at nothing to achieve that.”

gojo listened to geto’s words, his expression unreadable for a moment, but a soft hum escaped his lips as he leaned closer, his gaze softening as it landed on you. without a word, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

as he pulled back, he whispered, almost reverently, “she is ours,” the words a quiet affirmation, a promise that seemed to echo through the air between them.

his fingers trailed gently across your cheek, running his knuckles over your skin, the touch delicate yet filled with a possessive warmth. there was a quiet intensity in his gaze as he watched you, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as though to reassure himself that you were still there, still his.

gojo'’ demeanor softened again, and for a brief moment, the raw, vulnerable side of him surfaced—just a fleeting glimpse of the man who feared losing you. but it was quickly masked by the quiet confidence, the undeniable possessiveness that had always been there. he wasn’t delusional, at least not in his mind. he was simply ensuring that you would never be taken from him, from both of them.

his eyes flicked to geto, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “you can call it whatever you want,” he murmured, “but this is love, suguru. and we're never letting her go.”

gojo’s hand rubs soft, gentle circles on your belly over the soft blanket, his eyes fixated on the spot where your baby is growing. a possessive smile plays at the corner of his lips, his voice soft when he speaks. “ours to love, to protect—to keep.”

geto hummed in satisfaction, his gaze lingering on you, taking in the peacefulness of your sleep. there was something about seeing you like this that made his possessiveness flare even more, but it was a contented, almost affectionate kind of obsession.

he stepped closer to gojo, his hand reaching out to rest gently against his boyfriend’s back, a subtle reassurance. “let her rest,” he said, his voice calm, though there was a quiet excitement in his tone. “she’s been through a lot.”

his fingers then slid up to gojo’s undercut, his touch soft, almost tender, as he whispered with a smile, “maybe we should start looking for a room in the house… turn it into a nursery.”

there was a spark of genuine excitement in geto’s eyes, despite knowing that it was still a long time before the baby would arrive. but that didn’t stop him from feeling an intense, almost overwhelming sense of anticipation. this was their first child, after all—their child—and he couldn’t wait for the moment when everything would finally be real.

gojo’s lips curled into a proud grin at the mention of a nursery. he knew it was too early to start planning and preparing, but he couldn’t help but jump on the idea instantly.

“yeah,” he agreed, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and adoration. “we should start working on decorating the room, picking out furniture, maybe start buying some cute little baby clothes…”

he paused, imagining the room filled with adorable cribs and soft toys, before adding with a smirk, “and maybe we should start thinking of baby names.”

geto chuckled softly at gojo’s words, a slight shake of his head as he listened to his boyfriend’s excited ramblings. the image of gojo, the usually carefree and chaotic force of nature, getting so wrapped up in something as sweet and innocent as baby names, made a rare warmth flicker in his chest.

“you’re already thinking of baby names, huh?” geto murmured with a small, knowing smile. “you really can’t wait, can you?”

gojo making sure you were comfortable and warm, adjusting the blanket around you gently before standing up. then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around geto’s waist, pulling him in close. the two of them silently left the bedroom together, moving into the hallway as the sound of their footsteps echoed softly in the quiet house.

as they walked down the hallway, the feeling of possessiveness and excitement still swirling in the air between them, geto broke the silence. his voice was low but filled with certainty, the dark gleam in his eyes never quite fading as he met gojo’s gaze.

“we are going to give her and our baby the world,” he said, his voice almost reverent, though tinged with a dangerous kind of possessiveness. “aren’t we?” his question was more of a quiet affirmation, a shared understanding between them that no one would take either of you from them—not now, not ever.

gojo gave an unapologetic nod at geto’s words, his arms tightening around his waist. there was no denying how excited he was—he couldn’t help but get carried away sometimes.

he leaned in close to geto, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as they walked down the hallway. “of course,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. “whatever they want, we’ll give them. whatever they need, we’ll provide. they’ll never want for anything.”

then, an amused smirk crossed his face as he added, “we’ll spoil them completely, won’t we?”

geto chuckled a little at gojo’s question, a small hum of agreement escaping his lips. the idea of spoiling the baby, giving them everything they could possibly want, was an appealing one, to say the least.

“you’re already plotting to give them the most lavish birthday parties, aren’t you?” he teased, his tone light though there was a hint of fond amusement in his eyes as he glanced sidelong at his boyfriend.

“we’ll give them everything they could ask for,” gojo said, his voice a low murmur. “the world isn’t enough.”

geto smiled at gojo’s response, his hand reaching up to brush a few strands of hair back from his boyfriend’s forehead. he knew gojo all too well, and the man’s tendency to go overboard when it came to you and the baby was something he was all too familiar with.

he let out a soft, amused snort, shaking his head as he commented, “lavish is an understatement, satoru. you’re probably already planning a theme park for their first birthday.”

gojo chuckled at the thought, imagining the look on the baby’s face as they explored a whole theme park built solely for them. the idea was ridiculous and over-the-top—but that was gojo all over.

“well,” he mused, his voice taking on a playful tone, “they are ours, and our baby deserves the best. so yeah, a theme park might be a good start.”

he shot a sly grin at geto, adding, “though i was actually thinking of something more grand, like maybe a petting zoo. or a small circus.” the thoughts, the ideas swimming freely in his mind, filled with each possible and the things he and geto can and would do for you and their child.

gojo groans, hiding his face on geto’s shoulder, “they haven’t been born yet and i already love them so much.”

upon hearing gojo’s ridiculous ideas for grand birthday parties for a literal baby, geto let out an amused chuckle, his expression a mix of fond exasperation. “a petting zoo,” he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “you're unbelievable. and i thought i was supposed to be the unhinged one in this relationship.”

despite the teasing comments, though, there was a hint of affection in his voice, a begrudging fondness. he knew gojo’s ridiculous tendencies, after all, and this was well within the limits of his boyfriend’s chaotic character.

gojo hummed happily at geto’s words, his face still hidden in the crook of his boyfriend’s shoulder. his heart felt so full in moments like this, where he could just imagine the future and the life they were slowly creating for themselves.

“i just love our babies so much,” he said referring to you and the future child, his voice a little bit muffled, but the tenderness was still clear in his tone.

geto rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his best efforts. gojo’s sappy side was a side that he only showed to those he trusted, and geto couldn’t deny that his boyfriend’s affectionate nature was endearing, in his own way.

“you’re such a sap,” he muttered, his voice fond. “you realize there’s still, like, what, 8 months? before the baby’s even born, right? don’t get ahead of yourself now.”

gojo lifted his head a little so he could glance up at geto, an exaggerated pout on his face. “i can’t help it,” he protested, his voice whining a little. “i’m excited, okay? i can’t help it if i’m already thinking about what we’ll dress them up as for halloween and what toys they’ll like and how we’ll decorate the nursery and so on and so on...”

[srslyblvck]

calm to his storm, klaus mikaelson

pairing: klaus mikaelson x fem!reader

synopsis: you are the calm to his raging storm. so what happens when his only calm is taken away from him?

genre: fluff, a little bit of angst,

warnings: mentions of torture

word count: 2.6k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE ANTIQUE CHANDELIER ABOVE shook slightly as another crash echoed through the Mikaelson estate. Klaus’ rage tore through the air like a hurricane, sending priceless artefacts and heirlooms scattering across the room. Rebekah stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, a mix of irritation and concern on her face.

“Klaus, for heaven’s sake!” she snapped, her own temper flaring. “Must you destroy everything? That was from the 18th century!”

Kol leaned casually against the doorway, arms folded. A smirk played on his lips, though even he seemed wary. “Let him have his tantrum, sister. It’s like watching a storm obliterate a quaint little village. Entertaining, don’t you think?”

Elijah entered the room, his usual calm demeanor strained. He surveyed the chaos—broken vases, shattered glass, the remnants of Klaus’ fury—and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is getting out of hand.”

“And when has that ever stopped him?” Rebekah shot back, throwing her hands in the air.

Another crash—this time a painting flung off the wall—interrupted her. Elijah sighed deeply, his gaze shifting toward the grand staircase. He seemed to consider his options for a moment before turning to leave.

“I’ll fetch her,” he said simply, his voice tinged with both resignation and relief.

Upstairs, in stark contrast to the chaos below, your room was a haven of peace. Soft lamplight illuminated the plush armchair you sat in, legs curled beneath you. A leather-bound book rested in your hands, and beside you on the side table sat a glass of red liquid—whether it was wine or blood was anyone’s guess, and you enjoyed keeping them guessing.

The muffled sounds of Klaus’ outburst barely registered. To you, it was as normal as birds chirping or wind rustling leaves—a background hum of the Mikaelson household. You turned another page, utterly unbothered.

A soft knock at the door broke the tranquility.

“Come in, Elijah,” you called without looking up, already knowing who it would be.

Elijah entered, his steps measured as always. He stood for a moment, hands clasped in front of him, as though reluctant to disturb you further. “It seems,” he began in his polished tone, “your presence is required downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting the book down carefully. “Klaus?”

“Who else?” His lips twitched into a faint, weary smile. “Rebekah is losing her patience, Kol is doing nothing helpful as usual, and I suspect this will only end peacefully with you.”

With a small sigh, you stood, smoothing the folds of your dress. “He’s really upset this time, isn’t he?”

“You could say that.” Elijah offered you his arm, a gesture that always made you smile, even after all this time. “Though I must say, I sometimes wonder how you manage him so effortlessly.”

You took his arm, your smile soft. “It’s not effortless. It’s just… understanding.”

The sight that greeted you in the living room was chaotic, but unsurprising. Klaus stood amid the wreckage, his chest heaving, fury etched into every line of his face. Rebekah was glaring at him, hands on her hips, while Kol lounged in the doorway, twirling a broken candlestick like a baton.

“Klaus,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tension like a balm.

His head snapped toward you, his wild eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he looked ready to lash out again, but then he saw you—calm, composed, untouched by his rage. The storm in his expression faltered.

“You’ve been shouting for an hour,” you continued, stepping into the room. “Are you okay?”

Klaus scoffed but didn’t respond, his hands flexing at his sides. You moved closer, resting a hand lightly on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

The smallest touch from you carried a weight nothing else could. His anger didn’t vanish, but it dulled, like a smoldering ember instead of an inferno.

“It’s nothing that concerns you,” Klaus muttered, his voice quieter now.

“It concerns me if it upsets you,” you said, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Your soft tone carried no judgment, just an earnestness that Klaus couldn’t resist.

Elijah silently excused himself and pulled the others with him, muttering about how he didn’t want to witness Klaus being "domesticated."

When the door clicked shut, Klaus turned to you fully, his posture still tense. “You don’t understand, love. This—this betrayal, this treachery—it deserves blood.”

You placed your other hand on his chest, the gesture anchoring him. “Maybe it does,” you said softly. “But you always remind me that timing is everything. You don’t need to act now, not when you’re this angry.”

Klaus exhaled sharply, the weight of your logic pressing against his instinct to lash out. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you gently as if you were the one tethering him to the ground.

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured, his voice softening further. “But you don’t know what it’s like to carry this rage. It consumes everything.”

You smiled, shy but radiant, the polar opposite of his stormy intensity. “That’s why I’m here. To remind you that not everything has to be consumed.”

Klaus studied you for a long moment, his eyes searching. Finally, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “What have I done to deserve you?”

You chuckled softly, a sound that Klaus secretly adored because it felt like sunlight in his otherwise dark world. “You don’t have to deserve me,” you said simply. “I’m here because I love you, Klaus. All of you.”

He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the words that he didn’t hear often enough. When he pulled back, some of the tension in his frame had dissipated.

“Thank you, love,” he said softly.

You brushed a hand across his cheek, and for once, Klaus Mikaelson didn’t feel like the monster the world claimed he was.

The full moon hung low in the sky, its light filtering through the dense forest. You were returning to the Mikaelson estate after a quiet evening in town, a much-needed break from the volatile energy that often permeated the house. The path was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot.

Something was off.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you slowed your steps.

They came out of the shadows, cloaked in spells that masked their presence. A coven of witches, their eyes burning with vengeance, encircled you.

“Ah, the little darling of the Mikaelsons,” one sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “The one they’d burn the world for.”

You didn’t wait for pleasantries. In a blur of speed, you lunged at the closest witch, your vampiric strength taking him off guard. He crumpled under the force of your blow, but the others retaliated quickly. Spells lit the night as energy pulsed around you, slamming into your chest like a battering ram.

You gritted your teeth and fought back, feral and determined, but the odds weren’t in your favor. One by one, they overwhelmed you, their magic precise and relentless. You tore through two more of them, leaving them bloodied and unconscious, but a searing pain shot through your veins—a vervain-laced dart embedded in your shoulder.

You stumbled, your vision swimming, but you kept fighting, even as your strength waned. Finally, the world blurred and darkened as they dragged you away, their triumphant laughter the last thing you heard before the void consumed you.

When you awoke, you were bound to a chair in a dimly lit chamber. Your wrists burned where the vervain-laced ropes dug into your skin. The air smelled of damp earth and old magic, and your head throbbed from whatever spell they’d used to keep you subdued.

“You’re awake,” one of the witches said with a wicked smile, crouching before you. “Good. We wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.”

Their leader, a tall woman with piercing green eyes, approached with deliberate steps. “Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, her tone almost conversational.

You met her gaze despite the pain. “Because you’re bored and pathetic?”

She slapped you hard across the face, the sting sharp and immediate. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of flinching.

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” she sneered. “We’re here because of your beloved family. They’ve terrorized witches for centuries, and now, you’ll pay for their sins.”

They tortured you methodically, using spells to inflict pain, cutting into your skin with vervain-coated blades. Every time you began to fade, they used magic to jolt you back to consciousness. They wanted you to suffer, to feel every second of it.

Still, you held onto your resolve, refusing to give them what they wanted. When they demanded information about the Mikaelsons, you laughed through the pain. “Do you really think they’ll let you live after this?” you taunted, your voice hoarse but steady. “You’ve made a mistake.”

It didn’t take long for the Mikaelsons to notice your absence. Klaus was the first to sense that something was wrong. The moment you didn’t return home, his paranoia kicked in, and when they found the bloodied trail in the woods, the fury that followed was palpable.

“Witches,” Klaus growled, his jaw clenched tight as he examined the scene. “They’ve taken her.”

Elijah placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his own expression grim but composed. “We’ll find her.”

“No,” Klaus snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “We’ll kill them.”

Rebekah’s eyes burned with determination. “They won’t live long enough to regret this.”

Kol, always eager for chaos, twirled a dagger in his hand. “Let’s not waste time then, shall we?”

You were barely conscious when the first explosion rocked the chamber. The witches scrambled, their spellwork faltering as the Mikaelsons descended like a storm.

Klaus was the first through the door, his eyes locking onto your battered form. His rage was palpable, a force of nature that seemed to suck the air from the room. He didn’t waste words. In a blur, he tore into the nearest witch, snapping their neck with a savagery that made the others freeze in terror.

Rebekah followed, her fury no less potent. She flung one witch across the room, her face twisted with righteous anger. “You dared to lay a hand on her?” she hissed, plunging a dagger into the witch’s chest.

Kol’s laughter echoed as he dispatched two witches with brutal efficiency. “I’ve got to say,” he quipped, wiping blood from his blade, “you lot make terrible hosts.”

Elijah moved with his usual grace, dispatching the leader of the coven with a calculated strike. His focus, however, was on you. He reached you first, his hands gentle as he untied the ropes and eased you into his arms.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice tight with concern. “You’re safe now.”

Your head lolled against his shoulder, your strength utterly spent. “Took you long enough,” you whispered weakly, a faint smile playing on your lips.

Klaus appeared beside him, his hands trembling as they hovered over your face, not knowing where to touch without hurting you further. His eyes were wild with guilt and rage, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I’ll kill every last one of them,” he vowed, his gaze darting to Elijah. “Take her home. Now.”

Elijah nodded, carrying you out of the carnage as Klaus and the others finished what they started. You heard the screams of the remaining witches as the Mikaelsons exacted their vengeance, but you didn’t feel pity. They’d made their choice.

The house was unusually quiet. The kind of quiet that seemed too fragile, as if one wrong move might shatter it. You lay on the bed, propped up by a stack of pillows, your body still recovering from the ordeal. Though most of your injuries had healed, a dull ache lingered beneath the surface—a reminder of what had happened.

Klaus hadn’t left the room since you were brought back. He sat in the armchair by the window, bathed in moonlight, his hands steepled under his chin. His silence was unnerving.

“You’re awfully broody tonight,” you said softly, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t respond at first, his eyes fixed on the dark forest outside. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but heavy. “I failed you.”

You sighed, shifting slightly despite the discomfort. “Klaus—”

“No,” he interrupted, his tone sharpening. “They took you because of me. Because of who I am. And they hurt you. If I had been faster, smarter—”

“They would’ve still tried,” you cut in, your voice calm but firm. “This isn’t your fault.”

He turned to look at you, his expression haunted. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true.” You held his gaze, your voice steady despite the fatigue in your body. “You can’t control what others do, Klaus. You can only do what you did—save me.”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he began to pace. “I should’ve torn them apart the moment I sensed something was wrong. Instead, they touched you—hurt you—and I…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.

You watched him for a moment before patting the space beside you on the bed. “Come here.”

He hesitated, the weight of his emotions visible in the tight set of his shoulders. Slowly, he approached, sitting carefully beside you as if afraid his presence might cause you more pain.

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours, your touch gentle. His fingers were tense at first, but they relaxed under your warmth. “Klaus, look at me.”

He did, his blue eyes stormy with guilt and frustration.

“I’m alive,” you said softly. “Because of you. You came for me. You always do.”

“I should’ve protected you better,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“And yet, here I am.” You gave him a faint smile, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to carry this guilt. I don’t blame you.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, his free hand reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was so tender it made your heart ache.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice raw.

“You won’t,” you replied, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’m tougher than I look, remember?”

A soft, humorless chuckle escaped him, but the tension in his body began to ease. He shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the world outside the room forgotten. His hand rested on your arm, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin, as if reassuring himself that you were real and not some fragile illusion.

After a while, you tilted your head to look at him. “Klaus?”

“Hm?”

“You’re going to need to stop blaming yourself. It’s exhausting to watch.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “You always know how to put me in my place, don’t you?”

“Someone has to,” you teased, though your tone was gentle.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered, his lips lingering against your skin.

“For what?”

“For not giving up on me. For always seeing the good in me when no one else does.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, your hand brushing against his cheek. “Because it’s there, Klaus. Even if you don’t see it, I do.”

For the first time that night, the shadow in his gaze lifted, replaced by something softer. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and fervent, as if pouring every unspoken word into the touch.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet room. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of possession and reverence.

“And you’re mine,” you replied with a soft smile, your fingers brushing through his hair.

In his arms, the lingering aches of your ordeal seemed to fade. The storm that had raged in him had settled, replaced by the calm only you could bring.

divider by @dollywons

[blackenedsnow]

Can you write me a Shadow the Hedgehog x Female Reader, but movie Shadow version and the reader has DiGeorge Syndrome a rare medical disorder that I have, idk about any prompts or summary atm, anything will do :3

a heart’s shadow

WARNING: Mention of chronic illness and medical trauma, implied violence

PAIRING: Movie! Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader with DiGeorge Syndrome

NOTE: I may have gotten his personality completely wrong (let's hope not) but I hope you enjoy anyway! Sending you lots of love <333

SUMMARY: Shadow abducts you as part of a calculated plan but soon discovers your health struggles, which remind him of Maria. This realization shifts his cold purpose into something else.

The hum of machinery filled the darkened corridor. Shadow’s red-tinted eyes scanned the area, unyielding, calculating. Dr. Robotnik’s orders were simple: take a hostage to ensure leverage against Sonic. Anyone nearby would do.

He found you on a bench by a park, bundled against the chill, your breath coming in slow, deliberate measures. Shadow had no reason to think twice about you, but when he closed the distance, a brief hesitance stirred within him. There was something… different.

“You’ll do,” he muttered to himself, voice cold as he stepped forward. Before you had a chance to scream, the world became a blur of black and crimson.

When you came to, you were somewhere unfamiliar, an industrial space with harsh lights and the lingering scent of oil and metal. Panic clawed at your chest as you tried to sit up, but a sharp twinge in your side reminded you why that was a bad idea.

“Good, you’re awake,” a voice came from the shadows.

You turned toward the figure stepping into the light—small, black-furred, and with eyes that pierced right through you. Recognition struck. Shadow the Hedgehog.

“Why am I here? Why… why me?” Your voice trembled, but there was an underlying defiance.

His expression was unreadable. “You were convenient. That’s all.”

It wasn’t true. Not entirely. Shadow had noticed the slow way you’d been breathing, the way your hand pressed against your chest as if steadying something fragile. Something about it gnawed at the edges of his focus, but he dismissed it as irrelevant.

Hours turned into a day. Despite his original intention to keep you confined, Shadow had been uncharacteristically quiet and watchful, observing you from a distance.

When you tried to stand, the stumble in your step was enough to make him act. “Sit,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ll hurt yourself further.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, though your trembling hands betrayed you. “I’ve been through worse.”

Something flickered across his face—a rare softness. “Explain.”

You weren’t sure why you did, but the words poured out before you could stop them. The surgeries. The way your heart worked harder than it should. The moments when simple things—like standing too quickly—felt like scaling a mountain.

Shadow listened, his arms crossed but his eyes filled with something akin to recognition. When you finished, you expected him to dismiss you or make some cutting remark. Instead, he just nodded.

The days stretched on, and Shadow’s demeanor began to shift. Where there had been silence, there was now a steady rhythm of his presence—a glass of water set beside you when he thought you weren’t looking, the careful adjustment of the space to make it more comfortable.

“What changed?” you asked one evening as he handed you a blanket.

Shadow hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “You’re not what I expected. You’re… stronger than you seem.”

“Strong?” You laughed bitterly. “I can barely make it through the day without—”

“Strength isn’t about perfection,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “It’s surviving despite everything trying to break you.”

It wasn’t just empty words. Shadow understood. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened when he spoke, the unspoken weight he carried.

One morning, you woke to find Shadow in a room—not the cold, sterile space you’d been confined to, but warm place. He had taken you somewhere safe.

“You’re not taking me back to Robotnik?” you asked cautiously.

“No,” he said simply.

“But why—”

“Because I don’t work for him anymore.”

He didn’t elaborate, but you didn’t need him to. The walls Shadow had so carefully built around himself had cracked, just enough for you to glimpse the truth. He hadn’t saved you out of pity or obligation. Somewhere along the way, you’d become important to him.

Life with Shadow wasn’t easy—he was blunt, stoic, and often distant. But he was also fiercely protective, learning the intricacies of your condition without complaint. He’d carry you when you were too weak to walk, stand vigil during your worst days, and remind you in his own quiet way that you were never alone.

“Why do you stay?” you asked him one night, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to you, his gaze steady. “Because you remind me of her. Of Maria.”

You reached for his hand, resting yours over his. “I’m not her, Shadow. I’m not perfect.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you’re worth fighting for.”

[blueberrisdove-sideblog2]

It was a peaceful afternoon when you decided to bake something sweet for the two of you. The house was filled with the warm scent of freshly baked cupcakes, their colorful frosting so pretty that it almost felt like a work of art. You carefully arranged them on a platter, eager to surprise Mydei with your homemade treat. The moment he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes lit up, and his usual serious demeanor softened at the sight of the cupcakes.

"Mydei, look! I made these just for you!" you said, your voice full of excitement, offering him a cupcake. His intense, piercing gaze flickered to the plate, and for a moment, you could have sworn he was going to smirk. Instead, he gave you a nod, accepting the cupcake from your hand with a gentle, almost reverent touch. "You made them? How could I refuse, my love?" His words were soft, but you could hear the slight edge of mischief in his tone, though you didn’t catch it at first.

As he took a bite, his expression shifted ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with an exaggerated smile. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes narrow a little, but he chewed with purpose, swallowing the mouthful as though he was savoring every second. "It’s... quite delicious," he murmured, his voice smooth as he wiped a little frosting from his lips with his thumb. You beamed at the compliment, feeling your heart swell with pride. He was always so kind to you, even when things weren’t perfect.

Yet, as he took another bite, it was clear something was off. His face twitched slightly, and his brows furrowed ever so slightly. Still, he didn’t let it show fully. "Truly, love, your baking skills never cease to amaze me," he continued, his tone low and smooth. But you caught the slight grimace he tried to hide as he chewed, his gaze a bit unfocused. You tilted your head, wondering if he was really enjoying it or just being kind.

"Mydei," you said, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips, "you’re not hiding it well. You don’t have to pretend you like it." He paused, the cupcake halfway to his mouth. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and in that instant, you could see the battle waging within him. He was trying so hard to mask his discomfort, but the way his jaw clenched betrayed him. Still, he forced a smile, leaning toward you. "It’s not about the taste, my love. It’s about the effort," he replied, sounding a little too rehearsed.

Finally, he took another large bite, swallowing slowly as though it was some kind of punishment. You watched him closely, barely able to contain your laughter at how he was clearly suffering. But Mydei, ever the stoic one, managed to maintain his composure, his eyes locking with yours. "I think I’ve found a new appreciation for your… unique baking style," he said with a grin, though you could tell he was struggling. "I am truly honored, my dear." You bit your lip, trying not to burst into laughter, knowing just how much he was pushing himself to make you happy.

"Sweetie," you said teasingly, reaching out to gently stroke his cheek, "you don't have to keep eating them. I know they’re not the best, but you can stop pretending now." Mydei’s intense gaze softened, and his lips curled into a small, genuine smile. "Only for you," he murmured, finally setting the half-eaten cupcake down on the counter. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. "I will always endure any hardship, just to see you smile, my love." You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Despite the cupcake disaster, there was no place you'd rather be than in his arms, knowing he’d do anything to make you happy.

[agirlnamedelia]

A future with you || Dad!Bakugou x Reader

synopsis: just dad bakugou soft as ever.

The smell of freshly baked cookies fills the kitchen as you pull the tray from the oven, setting it on the counter to cool. You hear the front door open and a familiar voice call out, gruff but warm.

“Oi, I’m home!” Bakugou’s voice echoes through the house, his tone softened slightly by the familiarity of routine.

“In the kitchen!” you shout back, smiling as you hear the sound of tiny footsteps racing through the hall. Bakugou’s son, a bundle of energy just like his dad, comes barreling in, a wide grin on his face.

“Cookies!” he exclaims, reaching for the cooling tray with eager hands.

You laugh, gently guiding him away. “Careful, they’re still hot, sweetie. Let them cool down first.”

Bakugou appears in the doorway, his presence instantly commanding attention. He’s still in his hero gear, though he’s already shed the gauntlets and boots. His blond hair is tousled from the wind, and there’s a tired but satisfied look on his face.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice softer now, his eyes warming as he takes in the sight of you and his son.

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, leaning against the counter. “Long day?”

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to his son, who’s still eyeing the cookies with a determined focus. “Yeah, but it’s better now.”

You smile at his words, feeling a familiar flutter in your chest. Despite his rough exterior and blunt demeanor, Bakugou has a way of making you feel special with just a few words. It’s in the little things, like the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, or the way he always makes sure to come home as soon as he can.

“Did you save any villains for the rest of us, Dad?” his son asks, his voice full of admiration.

Bakugou chuckles, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “Nah, wiped the floor with ‘em all. You know how it is.”

His son beams up at him, clearly proud. “You’re the best, Dad!”

Bakugou’s eyes soften as he looks down at his son, and he crouches to his level, a rare, gentle smile gracing his features. “Thanks, kid. But I’m not the best at everything. You and your mom are the real heroes around here.”

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, and Bakugou catches your eye, his expression turning more serious. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent communication that only you understand. It’s his way of saying he appreciates you, even if he doesn’t always know how to say it out loud.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up before dinner,” Bakugou says, straightening up and scooping his son into his arms with ease.

As he passes by, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for just a second longer than usual. “And maybe after, you and I can have a little time to ourselves, yeah?”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “I’d like that.”

He gives you a small, knowing smirk before heading down the hall, his son giggling in his arms. You watch them go, your heart swelling with love and contentment. Being with Bakugou isn’t always easy, but moments like this remind you of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

As you turn back to the cookies, you hear Bakugou’s voice drifting down the hall, playful and teasing. “Better save me some of those cookies, or you’re gonna regret it!”

You laugh, calling back, “No promises, Katsuki!”

And as you start plating the cookies, you can’t help but think about how much you’ve come to love this life—this family. It’s not always perfect, but it’s yours, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

-`♡´- Tip Jar || Youtube ||  M.List -`♡´-

[ponderingmoonlight]

Kento bringing his baby daughter to work so she can meet the first years! And Gojo… (who she ends up loving making Kento jealous 😭)

“Are you sure this sits right with you love? I don’t want you to do something because you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

Oh so gently, your husband grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer.

“You didn’t enjoy a day with your friends since I can remember. You deserve to have a little time for yourself.”

“But not if that means you are forced to take our daughter to work-“

“Forced? Apart from you, she’s what I’m most proud of. Please don’t worry, darling. This is nothing but a short day at Jujutsu High”, he soothes you while placing a small kiss on your forehead.

To be honest, there are a lot of things Kento Nanami would rather do than taking his baby girl to meet those jerks at school. But if it means you’ll have a day off to go shopping and enjoy yourself, he’d do everything he can.

“I’ll text you when I’m back. Have a nice trip and don’t hesitate to buy something.”

Nanami arrives at Jujutsu High with his baby daughter nestled securely against his chest in a soft carrier with that unsettling feeling rising in his chest.

This day will be exhausting.  

The minute he sets one foot inside the classroom, everything goes silent. In fact, it takes the first years a couple of seconds to actually register that this is him, that this is the usually so cool and composed Kento Nanami standing in front of him – with a baby nestled against his chest.

“She’s so tiny!” Nobara gasps, immediately rushing over, her hands reaching out before she hesitates.

“Wait, can I hold her? Will she break?”

Nanami adjusts the straps of the carrier, his lips pressing into a flat line.

“She’s not made of glass, but no, you can’t her yet.”

Megumi, ever the observant one, tilts his head.

“She looks just like you,” he comments, noting the serious set of the baby’s expression.

Even at such a young age, she seems to have inherited Nanami’s unimpressed stare.

Yuji, on the other hand, is all but vibrating with excitement.

“She’s adorable! Look at her little cheeks!”

He grins and waves like a maniac.

“Hi, baby Nanamim!”

Your baby, snug against her father’s chest, blinks up at them, her tiny fingers clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Then, her gaze shifts, and her entire demeanor changes.

“Ah,” Gojo comments, dramatically placing a hand over his heart while entering the room.

“A little lady with refined taste. She already knows true greatness when she sees it.”

Nanami sighs as his daughter reaches her chubby arms out toward Gojo, her usual serious face replaced with sheer delight. She babbles excitedly, tiny legs kicking against the carrier as if demanding to be picked up.

Betrayal. Utter betrayal is everything Nanami feels.

When you told him about the way his daughter looked at Gojo when you visited a few days earlier, he thought that you were joking. After all, there’s no way his daughter would actually fall for that jerk, right?

Gojo doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward with a broad grin.

“Oh? Do you want Uncle Gojo to hold you?”

He barely waits for permission before scooping her up, spinning her lightly in the air, making her giggle - a sound so rare that everyone stares in awe.

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.

“This is a mistake.”

“Correction: This is destiny,” Gojo counters, holding her up as if she’s the Lion King cub.

“She’s chosen me.”

“She’s a baby,” Nanami replies dryly, watching as his daughter happily grabs at Gojo’s sunglasses, yanking them down to reveal his eyes. She coos, utterly enchanted.

Gojo laughs, winking.

“Guess I have a new favorite person. Sorry, Nanami.”

Nanami crosses his arms, watching his daughter adore Gojo with increasing jealousy.

“You’ll be returning her now.”

“Aw, but she loves me,” Gojo whines, spinning her again just to hear her delighted giggle.

“She sees the truth! That I am-”

“Gojo, if you finish that sentence, I will use my overtime hours just to deal with you.”

Gojo pouts but hands her back, though not before whispering,

“We’ll hang out again soon, princess. Hey, maybe your wife likes me that much as well-”

“Shut. Up.”

Nanami glares as his daughter makes grabby hands at Gojo even in his arms.

Utter. Betrayal.

[one-sunny]

Quiet, brooding type.

Law x F!Reader drabble

Summary: When the straw hat cook takes an interest in you, a heart pirate, your crew takes it upon themselves to speak up on your behalf.

note: first time writing for law lets go

Masterlist

“Darling, please let me take care of that. You don’t have to lift even one of those precious fingers while you’re here.” Sanji’s loud voice coo’s over you, taking the mug from your hands with a love sick expression. “Would you like any more tea? Maybe a snack?”

The heart pirates watch on with varying degrees of annoyance, watching as their crew mate was doted on by a Straw hat, of all people. “Ya know, we could use a snack too.” Shachi crosses his arms over his chest, Penguin mimicking the expression.

“Or a drink.”

Sanji’s eye move to the group sitting close by and his gaze shifts from sweet to more than annoyed. “The snacks are for Y/N, Robin, and Nami!” He barks at the group, before he is off to refill your drink.

You’re laughing in your seat, propping your feet up with a dreamy sigh, “I could really get used to this.” You move your arms behind your head as you offer the group a cheeky grin. Law rolls his eyes at your airy demeanor.

“Yeah, don’t expect this kind of treatment when we set off.” Law grumbles, his demeanor having shifted to far more grumpy than usual.

“Don’t worry about them, my sweet.” Sanji reappears at your side with a refill of tea and a small snack to go along with it.

You grin at the man, “Thanks, cook.” Taking the things from him, you make sure to gently graze your fingers over his, curious of the reaction. And you’re delighted to see it’s instantaneous as Sanji nearly melts at your feet. He rattles on affectionately while adorning bright heart eyes.

“Tch,” Penguin tuts at the man. “You know she’s not into the lovey, sweet talk, right?” He points an accusing finger at the blonde, but Sanji pays little attention. You offer a look of confusion.

“Yeah, she’s more into the quiet, brooding type.” Shachi immediately jumps in, casting a look towards your very own captain.

You nearly spill your tea in your haste to hush the group. Heat burns at your cheeks and you can’t even bring yourself to meet their eyes in a glare. “Sanji, can I join you in the kitchen?” Your voice is a pitch higher than you mean. “‘S a little loud out here.” You grit your teeth.

“Wait-“

But Sanji’s cheery voice quickly cuts Law off. “Of course, darling!” He beams as he offers you a hand. The blonde happily leads you away as you bow your head in embarrassment.

Sure, the two didn’t explicitly spell it out, but your captain was smart enough to connect the dots.

Collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs, Nami casts a curious look in your direction. Then, a smile pulls to her lips. “Nice to see that my crews not the only one with idiots on it.” You can’t help but laugh at the woman’s bluntness.

“Unfortunately.” You huff out.

“Though, i figure Law would be better at keeping them in check than Luffy is. He seems like the type.” Her watchful gaze is locked in on you.

“Well, he is.” You tip your head, a smile pulling to your lips in thought. “But that doesn’t necessarily stop them from blurting something stupid out.” Fingers fidget with the cookie on your plate, picking at the chocolate chips with a pout.

“So,” Nami drawls out. “What they said, it’s true?” You immediately drop your hands to glare at the Straw hat. She laughs in response and holds up her hands defensively, “Look, I won’t blurt it out like those guys, but i’ve been stuck on the boat for a hot minute and this is the kind of gossip that’s gonna keep me going.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes defiantly.

“Awh, so his little glares have rubbed off on you.” She smirks.

“Nami.” You huff. Before you can scold the woman- just as Law would, you take note- a blue haze suddenly fills the room. Brows pulled in confusion, you share a look with Nami, and then your body is suddenly falling.

Seconds later, you fall back to sit against a crate. Your head whips around in confusion until you come face to face with Trafalgar Law. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks entirely unamused. He speaks your name in a low sound, almost like a warning.

“What?” You cross your arms defensively.

He huffs out as he leans a hip against the wall. Your eyes cast around the room in attempt to decipher exactly where he had shambled you to, an effort to avoid his judging eye. “What have I said about getting too close to the Straw hats?”

Your lips move in a mocking manner and Law’s glare deepens. “I’m not getting close to any of them.” You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall.

“Really? And what was going on with the cook then?” He speaks the title with a certain level of venom.

“Nothing, it’s fun to mess with him.” You shrug.

“Well, I don’t like how close he’s trying to get to you.” Law huffs

A grin pulls to your lips as you poke the man’s arm, right where you know a heart is tattooed into his skin. “You’re only mad that he’s not bringing you snacks.” Law closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, and slowly blowing it out. You were well aware that you were grating on his nerves but you simply could not help yourself.

“I don’t care if he’s,” Law pauses. “Not your type.” Your lips snap shut and Law moves on before you have a chance to speak your protest. “But I don’t want any of my crew getting too close. This alliance isn’t a permanent thing-“

“I know, Law.” You mutter, bowing your head. “And please don’t listen to those guys, ugh, they’re just idiots.”

Law raises a brow, “So he is?”

You’re thrown off guard by the question. “Well I didn’t mean that. He, uh, he’s not.” You bite at your lower lip as the nerves strike through you at his close gaze. As if afraid you would accidentally confess if you met his golden eyes. “That doesn’t matter, though, does it?”

His lips purse.

You raise a brow at the lingering silence. “Does it?”

And the silence lingers.

“Okay I’m confused.” Your shoulder drop and you finally meet his eye.

“Just my type.” He simply states.

Your brows shoot up, ignoring the insinuation that Law liked the confused girls, and instead focusing on the way he was looking at you. It wasn’t all heart eyes and cheesy smiles like Sanji. Instead, it was the faint smile and softened gaze. Something so completely and utterly Law.

His gaze falls, the hat shadowing his face, but there is no way for him to hide the tips of his ears burning pink. He takes in a breath, “Look, we’ll be heading out soon. Just stay away from the cook until then, okay?

“Sure thing, Captain.” You grin.

[pucksandpower]

For the Best

Logan Sargeant x Wolff!Reader

Summary: Logan thinks that losing his Williams seat marks the beginning of the end … little does he know that it’s really just the start of the rest of his life

Logan steps into the cool, air-conditioned room, his race suit clinging to his skin after a grueling drive. The contrast between the bustling paddock and the quiet meeting room is jarring, and he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

His team principal sits at the head of the table, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a somber expression. Beside him, to Logan’s surprise, is the imposing figure of Mercedes’ team principal.

“Logan, thanks for coming,” James begins, his voice careful and measured. “Please, have a seat.”

Logan slides into a chair, his heart rate picking up. “What’s this about?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

James and Toto exchange a glance before James clears his throat. “Logan, you’ve been a valuable part of our team, and we’ve appreciated your dedication and hard work.”

The use of past tense doesn’t escape Logan’s notice. His stomach drops.

“But?” Logan prompts, bracing himself.

James sighs. “But we’ve decided to go in a different direction for next season. We’ll be announcing tomorrow that we’re signing Carlos Sainz.”

The words hit Logan like a physical blow. He knew his seat wasn’t secure, but hearing it confirmed ... it’s devastating.

“I-I see,” Logan manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

Toto leans forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Logan. “This is where I come in, Logan. We’ve been watching your progress closely, and while Williams may not have a race seat for you next year, we see potential in you.”

Logan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Mercedes and Williams would like to offer you a position as a reserve driver for next season,” Toto explains. “It would give you the opportunity to stay involved in F1, continue your development, and potentially step in if needed.”

Logan’s mind races. It’s not a race seat, but it’s something. A lifeline in a sport that can be ruthlessly unforgiving.

“I ... I don’t know what to say,” Logan admits, his voice shaky.

James leans in, his expression softening. “Logan, I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear. But this could be a great opportunity for you. You’d be working with one of the top teams in the sport.”

Logan nods slowly, trying to process everything. “Can I ask ... why? Why make this decision now?”

James shifts uncomfortably. “It’s a combination of factors. Carlos became available, and with his experience ...”

“You think he can bring more to the team,” Logan finishes, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“Logan,” Toto interjects, his tone firm but not unkind. “This sport is brutal, we all know that. But it’s also about timing and opportunities. This reserve role could set you up for future success.”

Logan takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “And if I say no? If I want to pursue other options?”

James and Toto exchange another glance. “That’s your prerogative,” James says carefully. “But I would strongly advise you to consider this offer. It’s not often a driver gets this kind of opportunity with a team like Mercedes.”

Logan nods, his mind whirling. “How long do I have to decide?”

“We’d need an answer by the end of the week,” Toto replies. “We understand this is a big decision, but we also need to move forward with our plans.”

Logan stands up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small room. “I ... I need some time to think about this. Is that okay?”

James nods, standing as well. “Of course, Logan. Take the time you need. But please, keep this conversation confidential until the announcement on Monday.”

Logan nods numbly, turning towards the door. As he reaches for the handle, Toto’s voice stops him.

“Logan,” the Mercedes boss says, his tone softer than before. “I know this feels like a setback. But sometimes, a step back can lead to two steps forward. Don’t lose faith in yourself.”

Logan meets Toto’s gaze, seeing a mix of sympathy and determination in the older man’s eyes. He manages a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Wolff. I’ll ... I’ll be in touch.”

As Logan steps out of the room, the hectic sounds of the paddock wash over him. And not for the first time in his F1 career, he feels completely lost in the familiar chaos.

***

Logan sits alone at a table in the Mercedes cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate. It’s his first day as a reserve driver, and the reality of his situation is sinking in. The familiar faces he’d grown accustomed to at Williams are replaced by a sea of strangers, all wearing the unmistakable Mercedes black and silver.

He takes a halfhearted bite of his chicken, lost in thought. The clink of a tray beside him startles him out of his reverie.

“Mind if I join you?” A cheerful voice asks.

Logan looks up to see a young woman with a bright smile sliding into the seat across from him. Her eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity.

“Uh, sure,” Logan manages, caught off guard by the unexpected company.

You beam at him, extending a hand. “I’m Y/N. You must be Logan, right? The new reserve driver?”

Logan nods, shaking your hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“So, how’s your first day going?” You ask, digging into your own lunch with enthusiasm.

Logan shrugs, trying to muster up some positivity. “It’s ... different. Still trying to find my bearings, I guess.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It must be a big change from Williams. But hey, everyone here is pretty friendly once you get to know them. Give it time.”

Logan finds himself relaxing a bit in the face of your easy-going demeanor. “Thanks. I appreciate that. So, uh, what do you do here?”

You laugh, a melodious sound that draws a few glances from nearby tables. “Oh, a bit of everything, really. I like to keep busy. But tell me more about you! How are you finding Brackley compared to Grove?”

Logan blinks, surprised by your genuine interest. “It’s ... bigger, for sure. More advanced facilities. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

You lean in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? It can be overwhelming for all of us sometimes. But that’s what makes it exciting, right?”

A small smile tugs at Logan’s lips. “I guess you’re right. It’s just ... I keep thinking about what could have been, you know? If I’d kept my race seat ...”

Your expression softens. “I get it. It’s tough to feel like you’re taking a step back. But sometimes, that step back gives you the perspective you need to leap forward.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “You sound like To- I mean, Mr. Wolff.”

You grin mischievously. “Well, great minds think alike, I suppose. But seriously, Logan, try to see this as an opportunity. You’re working with one of the best teams in F1. There’s so much you can learn here.”

Logan nods slowly, your enthusiasm starting to rub off on him. “You’re right. I should be grateful for this chance. It’s just hard not to feel a bit ... lost, I guess.”

“That’s totally normal,” you assure him. “But you know what? I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here. You’ve got that spark, Logan. I can see it.”

Logan feels a warmth spreading through his chest at your words. “Thanks, Y/N. That ... that means a lot.”

You wave off his gratitude with a smile. “Hey, newbies have to stick together, right?”

Logan tilts his head, confused. “Newbies? How long have you been here?”

You laugh again, and Logan finds himself thinking it’s a sound he could get used to. “Oh, I’ve been around forever. But I still feel new sometimes. This place is always evolving, always pushing forward. It keeps you on your toes.”

Logan nods, understanding dawning. “I can see that. It’s a bit intimidating, actually. Everyone here seems so ... focused. Driven.”

“That’s the Mercedes way,” you agree. “But don’t let it psych you out. We’re all human here. Well, except for the cars, of course.”

Logan chuckles, surprising himself. It’s the first time he’s laughed since ... well, since that meeting with James and Toto.

“So,” you continue, leaning forward with interest, “tell me about your journey. How did you end up in F1?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, then finds himself opening up. He tells you about his early days in karting, the move to Europe, the struggles and triumphs in the junior categories. You listen intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering encouragement.

“... and then Williams gave me my shot,” Logan concludes. “It was a dream come true, you know? But now ...”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Hey, your F1 journey isn’t over. It’s just taking a different path. And who knows? This could lead to even better things.”

Logan feels a flutter in his chest at your touch, quickly pushing the feeling aside. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say with conviction. “You’ve got talent. Anyone can see that. And now you’ve got the backing of Mercedes. That’s a powerful combination.”

Logan finds himself smiling, your optimism infectious. “Thanks, Y/N. I ... I really needed to hear that today.”

You wink at him. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” Logan echoes, surprised but pleased.

“Of course!” you exclaim. “Unless you’d rather keep eating lunch alone?”

Logan shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Friends sounds good. Great, actually.”

You beam at him. “Excellent. Now, let me give you the inside scoop on the best coffee spots around here. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

As you launch into a detailed description of the various cafes and their specialties, Logan finds himself relaxing fully for the first time since arriving at Mercedes. Your easy banter and genuine interest make him feel welcome, like he might actually belong here after all.

“... and whatever you do, avoid the vending machine on the third floor,” you’re saying. “It ate my money twice last week, and-”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Logan looks up to see Toto Wolff standing beside their table, his imposing figure casting a shadow. Logan immediately straightens, suddenly very aware of his posture.

“Oh, hi Vati!” You say brightly.

Logan’s brain short-circuits. Vati? His eyes dart between you and Toto, noticing for the first time the similarities in your features.

Toto smiles warmly at you, then drops a kiss on top of your head. “I see you’re making our new reserve driver feel welcome.”

You grin up at your father. “Of course! Someone has to show him the ropes around here.”

Toto nods approvingly, then turns to Logan. “I hope my daughter isn’t talking your ear off. She can be quite enthusiastic.”

Logan, still reeling from the revelation, manages to stammer out, “N-no, sir. She’s been very helpful.”

“Good,” Toto says. “Y/N, don’t forget about the meeting at three. Logan, keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing what you can do in the simulator next week.”

With that, Toto strides away, leaving Logan staring at you in shock.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Logan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan tries to speak, fails, then tries again. “You ... you’re Toto Wolff’s daughter?”

You nod, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Yep. Did I forget to mention that?”

Logan feels his face heating up. “I-I had no idea. I thought you were in PR or something.”

You burst out laughing. “PR? Oh, that’s a good one. No, I’m more of a behind-the-scenes type. Strategy, data analysis, that sort of thing.”

Logan’s mind is reeling. He’s been sitting here, pouring his heart out to his boss’s daughter. The boss’s daughter who is smart, funny, and undeniably attractive. The boss’s daughter who he might have been developing a tiny crush on.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says, mortified. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Logan, relax. I’m still the same person I was five minutes ago. The only thing that’s changed is that now you know I have an overprotective dad who happens to run the team.”

Logan swallows hard. “Right. No pressure or anything.”

You lean in, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hey, look on the bright side. Now you’ve got an inside track to the big boss. Just don’t ask me to put in a good word for you. I have a strict no nepotism policy.”

Despite his embarrassment, Logan finds himself chuckling. “Noted. I’ll just have to impress him on my own merits, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” you say, raising your water bottle in a mock toast. “To new beginnings and unexpected friendships.”

Logan clinks his own bottle against yours, a smile spreading across his face despite his lingering shock. “To new beginnings,” he echoes.

As you launch back into conversation, Logan can’t help but think that his time at Mercedes might be more interesting than he’d anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, this step back might lead to something amazing after all.

***

Logan leans against the table, his eyes fixed on the monitors displaying George Russell’s lap times. The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit, but inside the Mercedes garage, the atmosphere is tense with concentration as pre-season testing commences.

“Looking good, George,” Marcus Dudley, his race engineer, says into the radio. “Let’s push for one more flying lap before we bring you in.”

Logan nods to himself, impressed by George’s consistency. He’s about to turn to grab a water bottle when a collective gasp from the crew draws his attention back to the screens.

George’s car is spinning, kicking up dust and gravel as it careens towards the barrier. The sickening crunch of carbon fiber meeting concrete echoes through the speakers.

“George, are you okay?” Marcus calls urgently. “George, do you copy?”

Silence.

Logan’s heart races as he watches the still car, willing George to respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you rushing past, your face pale with worry.

“Carmen,” you call out, spotting George’s girlfriend near the back of the garage. You reach her just as her knees seem to give out, catching her before she falls.

Logan wants to help, but he knows his place. He turns back to the screens, straining to hear any news.

Marcus tries again, his voice tight with concern. “George, if you can hear me, give us any sign. Tap the radio, move your hand, anything.”

Still nothing.

The garage erupts into controlled chaos. Toto strides in, his face a mask of worry. “What happened?” He demands.

“Lost the rear in turn 11,” one of the engineers reports. “Looks like a suspension failure, but we won’t know for sure until we get the car back.”

Toto nods grimly. “And George?”

Marcus shakes his head. “No response on the radio.”

Logan watches as the medical car speeds towards the crash site. He catches snippets of radio chatter from the marshals.

“Driver non-responsive ... possible head trauma ... prepare for extraction ...”

The words send a chill down Logan’s spine. This is the dark side of the sport they all love, the ever-present danger that lurks behind every high-speed corner.

You appear at Logan’s side, your face etched with worry. “Any news?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing yet. They’re working on getting him out now.”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Carmen ... she’s not doing well. I’ve got Aleix with her now.”

Logan glances over to where Carmen sits, hunched over, the arm of George’s performance coach around her shoulders. The sight makes his chest tighten.

“This is my fault,” you murmur.

Logan turns to you, surprised. “What? How could this possibly be your fault?”

You run a hand through your hair, frustration evident in every movement. “I was the one who pushed for the new suspension design. If I had just stuck with the old one ...”

“Hey,” Logan says firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. George knows the risks. This isn’t on you.”

You give him a weak smile, gratitude flashing in your eyes. “Thanks, Logan. I just ... I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Before Logan can respond, a flurry of activity on the screens catches their attention. The medical team has successfully extracted George from the car.

“He’s out,” Marcus announces, his relief palpable. “Still unconscious, but he’s breathing on his own.”

A collective sigh of relief ripples through the garage. Carmen lets out a sob, burying her face in Aleix’s shoulder.

Toto approaches you and Logan, his face grim but composed. “They’re airlifting him to the hospital for full scans. Y/N, I need you to go with Carmen. Logan, I want you suited up and ready. If George can’t drive ...”

The implication hangs in the air. Logan nods, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

As Toto moves away to handle the press, you turn to Logan. “Are you okay?” You ask, concern evident in your voice.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted my chance to come.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “I know. But George would want you to do your best. That’s all any of us can do right now.”

Logan nods, trying to steel himself for what might come next. “You’re right. Go take care of Carmen. I’ll ... I’ll be here if you need me.”

You give him a grateful smile before hurrying off to Carmen’s side. Logan watches as you gently lead her out of the garage, whispering words of comfort.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Logan finds himself going through the motions of preparation, all while keeping an ear out for any news about George. The garage is unnaturally quiet, the usual banter and joking replaced by tense whispers and worried glances.

Finally, Marcus approaches Logan, his face drawn with fatigue. “They’re loading George into the chopper now. Toto wants you on standby, but we won’t make any decisions until we hear from the medical team.”

Logan nods, his stomach churning with a mix of concern for George and nervous anticipation. “Understood. How ... how does he look?”

Marcus sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Still unconscious, but stable. They’re optimistic, but they won’t know more until they run some tests at the hospital.”

As if on cue, the distant thrum of helicopter blades fills the air. Logan steps out of the garage, shielding his eyes against the sun as he watches the medical helicopter rise into the sky, carrying George away.

You appear beside him, your eyes red-rimmed but dry. “Carmen’s gone with him,” you say softly. “Vati arranged for a car to take her to the hospital.”

Logan nods, not taking his eyes off the retreating helicopter. “This is the part of the job we try not to think about, isn’t it?”

You lean against him slightly, seeking comfort. “Yeah. It’s easy to forget sometimes, when everything’s going well. But days like today ... they remind us of the reality.”

Logan wraps an arm around your shoulders, offering what support he can. “George is tough. He’ll pull through this.”

You nod against his shoulder. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”

As the helicopter disappears from view, Logan feels the weight of the moment settle over him. The exhilaration of potentially getting his chance to drive is tempered by the circumstances that might make it possible.

“Come on,” he says gently, guiding you back towards the garage. “Let’s get back inside. There’s work to be done, and George would kick our butts if he knew we were standing around moping.”

You manage a weak chuckle. “You’re right. He’d probably tell us to get back to optimizing the aero package or something.”

As they walk back into the garage, Logan can’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere. The team moves with renewed purpose, channeling their worry into productivity.

Toto approaches them, his face set in determined lines. “Logan, I need you in the simulator within the hour. If George can’t drive, we need you ready to step in at a moment’s notice.”

Logan straightens, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “Yes, sir. I won’t let the team down.”

Toto nods approvingly. “I know you won’t. Y/N, I need you to liaise with the medical team. Keep me updated on George’s condition.”

You nod, already pulling out your phone. “On it, Vati.”

As Toto moves away, Logan turns to you. “Hey,” he says softly, “we’ve got this, okay? Whatever happens, we’ll handle it.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Logan. I ... I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Me too,” he says. “Now, let’s show everyone what Mercedes is made of.”

***

Logan’s heart pounds as he approaches Toto’s office. The events of the past twenty-four hours have left him in a state of emotional whiplash, torn between concern for George and the possibility of his own opportunity.

He knocks on the door, hearing Toto’s muffled “Come in.” Taking a deep breath, Logan enters.

Toto looks up from his desk, his face etched with fatigue. “Logan, thank you for coming. Please, sit down.”

Logan sinks into the chair across from Toto, his mouth suddenly dry. “How ... how’s George?” He manages to ask.

Toto sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “Not good, I’m afraid. The doctors have completed their initial assessments. George has suffered multiple injuries — a concussion, fractured ribs, and a broken collarbone. The most concerning is a compound fracture in his left leg.”

Logan winces, imagining the pain George must be in. “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” Toto confirms. “The medical team estimates his recovery will take around nine months. Which brings me to why I’ve called you here.”

Logan’s pulse quickens, a mix of anticipation and guilt churning in his stomach.

Toto leans forward, his gaze intense. “We need you to step up, Logan. The team needs you to drive full-time for the entire season.”

Despite having suspected this might be coming, hearing the words out loud leaves Logan momentarily speechless.

“I ... of course, sir,” he finally manages. “I’ll do whatever the team needs.”

Toto nods, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “I know this isn’t how you wanted your chance to come. But I believe you’re ready for this. George believes it too.”

Logan’s head snaps up. “You’ve spoken to George?”

“Briefly,” Toto confirms. “He’s still groggy from the pain medication, but he was clear on one thing — he wants you in that car.”

A lump forms in Logan’s throat. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

Toto stands, coming around the desk to place a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You don’t need to say anything. Just drive, Logan. Show us what you’re capable of.”

Logan nods, standing as well. “I won’t let you down, sir. Or George.”

As he turns to leave, Toto’s voice stops him. “Logan? Remember, this is your chance. Don’t waste it feeling guilty. George wouldn’t want that.”

Logan manages a weak smile. “I’ll try to remember that. Thank you, Toto.”

Stepping out of Toto’s office, Logan feels as though he’s in a daze. This is what he’s been working towards his entire career — a full-time drive with a top team. So why does it feel so complicated?

Instead of heading to the cafeteria or his driver’s room, Logan finds himself walking towards the simulator. He nods at the technician on duty, who looks surprised to see him.

“Logan? We weren’t expecting you today ...”

“I know,” Logan says, already reaching for his racing gloves. “But I need to be in there. Can you set up a long run in Melbourne?”

The technician hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Just ... don’t overdo it, okay?”

Logan manages a tight smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

As he settles into the simulator, Logan feels a sense of calm wash over him. Here, in this imitation of a race car, things make sense. There’s no guilt, no complicated emotions — just him, the track, and the pursuit of speed.

Hours pass in a blur of virtual laps and telemetry data. Logan pushes himself harder with each run, shaving off tenths of a second here and there. He’s so focused that he doesn’t hear the door open behind him.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there are labor laws against working this hard,” your voice cuts through his concentration.

Logan startles, nearly losing control of the virtual car. He quickly ends the simulation and turns to face you, sheepishly running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding up a small box. “Clearly. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, watching you try to bend the laws of physics.”

Logan manages a weak chuckle. “Just trying to get up to speed. What’s in the box?”

You grin, opening it to reveal a single cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “A little celebration. Vati told me about your promotion.”

The sight of the cupcake makes Logan’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “I ... I don’t really feel like celebrating.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of understanding. “I get it. But Logan, running yourself ragged in here won’t help anyone. Least of all George.”

Logan sighs, slumping in the simulator seat. “I know. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. George is hurt and I’m benefiting from it. It feels wrong.”

You set the cupcake down and perch on the edge of the simulator, your eyes soft with sympathy. “Logan, listen to me. What happened to George is terrible, but it’s not your fault. And taking this opportunity doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Logan asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should be devastated that my teammate is hurt, not ... not excited about getting my chance.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “Who says you can’t be both? You can be worried about George and excited about your opportunity. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Logan looks up at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. “I just ... I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

You shake your head firmly. “Anyone who knows you would never think that. And you know what? George wouldn’t want you feeling this way. He’d want you to grab this chance with both hands and show everyone what you can do.”

Logan manages a small smile. “You sound pretty sure about that.”

“That’s because I am,” you say, squeezing his arm gently. “I talked to George earlier. You know what he said? He said, and I quote, ‘Tell that American idiot to stop moping and start driving. I didn’t crash just for him to waste this chance.’”

A surprised laugh escapes Logan. “He really said that?”

You grin. “Well, maybe I paraphrased a bit. The pain meds make him a little ... colorful. But the sentiment is there.”

Logan shakes his head, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. “George Russell, giving pep talks from his hospital bed. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know him,” you say simply. “And you know he’s right. Logan, this is your moment. Don’t let guilt or fear hold you back.”

Logan takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Both of you. I just ... I needed to hear it, I guess.”

You smile, reaching for the cupcake. “That’s what friends are for. Now, are you going to help me eat this or do I have to force-feed you?”

Logan chuckles, accepting the cupcake. “I wouldn’t dream of making you eat alone.”

As the two of you share the small treat, Logan feels something shift inside him. The guilt doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s tempered now by determination. George is counting on him, the team is counting on him, and he’s not going to let them down.

“So,” you say, licking frosting off your finger, “what’s next on the agenda, hotshot? More simulator laps?”

Logan shakes his head, a newfound energy coursing through him. “No, I think I’ve done enough of that for today. I was thinking maybe we could go over some of the race strategies? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Your eyes light up. “Are you kidding? Strategy talk is my favorite kind of talk. But first, you’re going to take a shower and eat a proper meal. Can’t have our driver passing out from exhaustion, can we?”

Logan grins, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since George’s accident. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

As you leave the simulator together, Logan feels a surge of gratitude. For George’s support, for the team’s faith in him, and for your friendship. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he knows he won’t face them alone.

“Hey, Y/N?” He says as you walk down the corridor.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

You bump your shoulder against his, a warm smile on your face. “Anytime, Sargeant. Now, let’s go plot your path to Formula 1 glory. I hear the catering team made lasagna today.”

Logan laughs, matching your stride. The road ahead won’t be easy, but with friends like you by his side, he’s ready to face whatever comes his way.

***

The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit as Logan sits in his Mercedes, heart pounding in his chest. The familiar pre-race butterflies are amplified tenfold — this isn’t just any race, it’s his debut for Mercedes.

“Okay Logan, how are we feeling?” Marcus Dudley’s voice crackles through the radio.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Remember, clean start, manage those tires, and we’ll see where we end up. You’ve got this, kid.”

As the formation lap begins, Logan can’t help but think of George, watching from his hospital bed. This one’s for you, he thinks.

“And we’re off for the formation lap here in Melbourne. All eyes are on Logan Sargeant today, the young American making his Mercedes debut in rather unexpected circumstances.”

“That’s right, Crofty. It’s a big ask, stepping into George Russell’s shoes after that nasty crash in testing. But Toto Wolff clearly sees something in Sargeant, and this is his chance to prove the Mercedes boss right.”

The cars line up on the grid. Logan’s eyes are fixed on the lights. Red ... red ... red ...

“Lights out and away we go!”

Logan reacts instantly, getting a clean start off the line. He holds his position into the first corner, fending off a challenge from behind.

“And it’s a good start for Sargeant, maintaining his fifth place into Turn 1. His rookie teammate Kimi Antonelli has also held position in seventh.”

The first few laps are a blur of intense focus. Logan settles into a rhythm, hitting his marks and managing the gap to the cars ahead and behind.

“Great job, Logan,” Marcus says. “You’re keeping pace with the leaders. Let’s see if we can put some pressure on Norris ahead.”

Logan grits his teeth, pushing harder. He closes the gap to Lando’s McLaren, looking for any opportunity to make a move.

“Sargeant is really impressing here in his Mercedes debut. He’s matching the pace of the frontrunners and is now right on the gearbox of Lando Norris.”

On lap 15, Logan sees his chance. Norris locks up slightly into Turn 3, and Logan pounces, sweeping around the outside to take fourth place.

“Yes!” Logan exclaims, unable to contain his excitement.

“Brilliant move, Logan!” Marcus cheers. “P4 now, let’s keep this up!”

“What a pass from Sargeant! He’s showing no signs of first-race nerves here, making a bold move on the more experienced McLaren driver. The Mercedes pit wall will no doubt be delighted with this performance so far.”

The race continues, with Logan holding his position firmly. He’s in a rhythm now, hitting every apex, managing his tires expertly.

Around the halfway point, things get more challenging. “Logan, we’ve got Verstappen closing in behind. He’s on fresher tires, so don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Marcus warns.

Logan nods to himself, adjusting his focus. He defends hard but fair, making his car as wide as possible on the straights.

“Verstappen is all over the back of Sargeant now. This is a real test for the young American — can he hold off the reigning world champion?”

For several laps, Logan and Max engage in a thrilling battle. Logan uses every trick in his arsenal, positioning his car perfectly to deny Max any opportunity.

“This is exceptional defensive driving from Sargeant. He���s not putting a wheel wrong under immense pressure from Verstappen.”

Finally, on lap 42, Max makes his move, slipping past Logan into Turn 1.

“Verstappen’s through,” Logan reports, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“No worries, Logan,” Marcus reassures him. “You did brilliantly to hold him off for so long. We’re still on for a great result here. Keep pushing!”

The final laps of the race are a test of endurance. Logan’s arms ache, his neck strains against the g-forces, but he pushes through the fatigue.

“As we enter the final lap here in Melbourne, Logan Sargeant is holding steady in fifth place. What a debut this has been for the American in the Mercedes!”

Logan crosses the finish line, a mix of exhaustion and elation washing over him. He’s done it — he’s finished his first race for Mercedes.

“And that’s the chequered flag, Logan!” Marcus’ voice comes through, filled with excitement. “P4! Fantastic job, mate!”

Logan blinks in confusion. “P4? But Verstappen passed me ...”

“Leclerc had a late puncture,” Marcus explains. “You moved back up to fourth. I’m completely serious, Logan. You’ve just finished P4 in your first race for us. You should be incredibly proud.”

The reality of his achievement starts to sink in. “I ... wow. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you to everyone on the team. This is ... it’s incredible.”

As Logan does his cool-down lap, waving to the cheering crowds, he feels a surge of emotion. This is what he’s worked for his entire life, and he’s proved he belongs here.

“What a drive from Logan Sargeant! Fourth place in his Mercedes debut. Toto Wolff must be feeling very good about his decision right now.”

“Absolutely, Martin. Sargeant has shown real maturity and pace today. This could be the start of something special for the young American.”

Logan pulls into parc fermé, parking behind the top three cars. As he climbs out, he’s immediately engulfed in a group hug by the Mercedes team.

Toto appears, a broad smile on his face. “Excellent job, Logan. You’ve made us all very proud today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Logan says, still slightly dazed. “I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support.”

As Logan makes his way through the paddock, he’s stopped by various team members and even rival drivers offering congratulations. It’s surreal, but Logan soaks in every moment.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar face pushing through the crowd. You’re beaming, your eyes shining with pride and unshed tears.

“Logan!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “That was amazing! I knew you could do it!”

Logan hugs you back, laughing. “I can hardly believe it myself. P4 ... it’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders. “Well, believe it. You earned this, Logan. Every single bit of it.”

As you chat excitedly about the race, Logan’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out to see a message from George.

Not bad for a newbie. Next time aim for the podium 😉 Seriously though, great job. Proud of you.

Logan grins, showing you the message. “Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me next race.”

You laugh, linking your arm through his. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re up for the challenge. But first, I think this calls for a celebration. Vati is organizing a team dinner. You up for it?”

Logan nods, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Australian heat. “Absolutely. Lead the way!”

As you walk towards the Mercedes hospitality area, Logan can’t help but reflect on the whirlwind of the past few weeks. From reserve driver to P4 in his debut race with the team — it’s more than he could have ever imagined.

“Hey,” you say softly, nudging him. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan smiles, squeezing your arm gently. “Just ... grateful. For this opportunity, for the team’s faith in me, for your support. I couldn’t have done this without you, Y/N.”

You blush slightly, looking pleased. “That’s what friends are for, right? Now come on, American boy. Time to bask in your well-deserved glory.”

As you join the celebrating team, Logan feels a sense of belonging wash over him. This is where he’s meant to be, and he’s ready for whatever challenges and triumphs lie ahead.

***

The Miami sun beats down on the podium as Logan stands there, still in disbelief. The weight of the P2 trophy in his hands feels surreal, a reminder of what he’s just achieved. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the elation of his first podium finish — it’s almost too much to process.

As he steps down from the podium, sticky with champagne and grinning from ear to ear, Logan is immediately engulfed by the Mercedes team. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but it all becomes a blur as he spots a familiar figure pushing through the crowd.

You burst through, your eyes shining with pride and excitement. Without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, not caring about the champagne that’s now soaking into your team shirt.

“Logan! Oh my god, you did it!” You exclaim, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m so, so proud of you!”

Logan laughs, wrapping his free arm around you and spinning you both around in a moment of pure joy. “I can hardly believe it myself,” he admits as he sets you down. “It’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders, beaming up at him. “Well, believe it, hotshot. P2 in your home race — you’ve earned this!”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Miami heat. “Thanks, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support. Without your support.”

You shake your head, still grinning. “Oh no, this was all you out there on the track. But speaking of support ...” Your eyes sparkle mischievously. “We absolutely have to celebrate properly tonight. Miami style!”

Logan raises an eyebrow, amused. “Miami style? Should I be worried?”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart skip a beat. “Only if you’re afraid of having too much fun. Come on, it’s your first podium, in your home race no less! We have to mark the occasion.”

Before Logan can respond, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. The brief contact sends a jolt through him, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Promise me you’ll come out with the team tonight,” you say, your eyes locked on his. “No excuses about needing to analyze data or whatever. Tonight, we celebrate!”

Logan nods, still a bit dazed from the kiss. “I ... yeah, of course. I promise.”

You beam at him. “Perfect! I’ll text you the details later. Now, go bask in your well-deserved glory. I think there are about a hundred journalists waiting to talk to Miami’s new hero.”

With a wink, you disappear back into the crowd, leaving Logan standing there, trophy in hand and mind reeling.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of interviews, photographs, and congratulations. Logan goes through the motions, answering questions on autopilot while his mind keeps drifting back to that moment with you.

It didn’t mean anything, he tells himself. You’re European, after all. Cheek kisses are just a normal thing, right? It was just excitement over the podium, nothing more.

But try as he might, Logan can’t shake the memory of your lips on his cheek, the way his heart raced at your touch.

“Earth to Logan,” Marcus’ voice cuts through his thoughts. “You still with us, mate?”

Logan blinks, focusing on his race engineer. “Sorry, what was that?”

Marcus grins knowingly. “I said, great job out there today. You should be proud. But maybe save the daydreaming for after the debrief, yeah?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “Right, sorry. Just ... still processing everything, I guess.”

“I bet,” Marcus chuckles. “First podium’s always special. Even more so on home turf. Now, let’s go over those last few laps ...”

As they dive into the race analysis, Logan tries to focus. But his mind keeps wandering. To the podium. To the celebration to come. To you.

It’s just excitement over the race result, he rationalizes. You’re his boss’s daughter, for crying out loud. And more importantly, you’re his friend. One of his best friends, if he’s honest with himself. He can’t risk messing that up by reading too much into a friendly gesture.

The debrief finally ends, and Logan heads back to his driver’s room to change. As he’s pulling on a fresh team shirt, his phone buzzes with a text from you.

E11EVEN at 10 PM. Wear something nice 😘 Can’t wait to celebrate with you!

Logan stares at the message, his heart doing that annoying skip thing again. It’s just a normal text, he tells himself. Friends celebrate together all the time. The kiss doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is ridiculous. He just achieved his first podium in Formula 1, at his home race no less. He should be on top of the world, not overthinking a simple friendly interaction.

As he leaves the track, Logan is stopped by a group of fans clamoring for autographs and selfies. He obliges with a smile, the excitement of the crowd helping to lift his mood.

“Logan! Logan!” A young boy calls out. “You were amazing today! I want to be just like you when I grow up!”

Logan kneels down to the boy’s level, touched by his enthusiasm. “Thanks, buddy. Just remember, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication. But if you believe in yourself and never give up, you can achieve anything.”

The boy nods solemnly, clutching his newly signed cap to his chest. “I will! I’m going to practice every day!”

As Logan stands, he catches sight of you talking to some team members nearby. You glance over, catching his eye, and give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. Logan feels that now-familiar flutter in his chest and quickly turns back to the fans.

It’s going to be a long night, he thinks to himself.

Back at the hotel, Logan takes his time getting ready for the celebration. He stands in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair and second-guessing his outfit choice. Why is he so nervous? It’s just a team celebration, like dozens he’s been to before.

But it’s not just any celebration, a voice in his head reminds him. It’s his first podium celebration. And you’ll be there.

Logan groans, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again. “Get it together, Sargeant,” he mutters to his reflection. “It’s just a night out with the team. With your friend. Your boss’s daughter. Who you definitely don’t have any non-platonic feelings for.”

Even he doesn’t believe himself.

A knock at the door startles him out of his internal monologue. “Logan? You ready?” Kimi’s voice calls out.

Logan takes a deep breath, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Yeah, coming!” He calls back.

As he joins Kimi in the hallway, his teammate gives him an appraising look. “Not bad, Sargeant. Trying to impress someone?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “What? No, I just ... wanted to look nice for the celebration.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Uh-huh. Sure. Come on, lover boy. Your adoring public awaits.”

As they make their way to the club, Logan tries to calm his nerves. It’s just a normal team celebration, he tells himself. Nothing to be nervous about. You’re just friends. Really good friends who sometimes share cheek kisses and make his heart race with a simple smile.

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s in trouble and he knows it.

The bass from the club is audible from down the street, and as they approach, Logan sees a line stretching around the block. But Kimi leads him straight to the VIP entrance, where they’re immediately ushered inside.

The club is a sensory overload — pulsing music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies on the dance floor. Logan blinks, trying to adjust to the atmosphere. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see you beaming up at him.

“You made it!” You shout over the music, your eyes sparkling in the club lights. “Come on, everyone’s waiting to toast the man of the hour!”

As you lead him through the crowd, your hand still on his arm, Logan tries to ignore the electricity he feels at your touch. Friends touch all the time, he reminds himself. It doesn’t mean anything.

You reach a VIP section where the rest of the team is gathered. A cheer goes up as they spot Logan, and suddenly he’s being passed around for hugs and backslaps and congratulations.

Toto appears, handing Logan a glass of champagne. “To Logan,” he says, raising his own glass. “For a brilliant drive and Mercedes’ first podium of the season. May it be the first of many!”

The team echoes the toast and Logan takes a sip of the bubbly, feeling a surge of pride and belonging. This is what he’s worked for his entire life and he’s finally made it.

As the celebration continues, Logan finds himself relaxing, caught up in the excitement and camaraderie of the team. He chats with mechanics, engineers, and fellow drivers, reliving the best moments of the race.

But his eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re in your element, moving from group to group, laughing and chatting animatedly. Every now and then, you glance his way, flashing him a smile that makes his heart race.

It’s just the atmosphere, Logan tells himself. The adrenaline from the race, the excitement of the celebration. That’s all it is.

But as the night wears on and the champagne flows freely, Logan finds it harder and harder to maintain that rationalization. Especially when you grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor, your body moving in perfect rhythm to the pulsing beat.

“Come on!” You shout over the music, grinning up at him. “Show me some of those dance moves!”

Logan laughs, letting himself get caught up in the moment. He may not be the world’s best dancer, but with you smiling at him like that, he feels like he could take on anything.

As you dance, Logan can’t help but notice how perfectly you fit against him, how natural it feels to have his hands on your waist as you move together. It’s just dancing, he reminds himself. Friends dance together all the time.

But when the DJ switches to a slower song and you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, Logan knows he’s fighting a losing battle. There’s no denying the way his heart races, the way his skin tingles where you touch him.

As you sway together, Logan finally allows himself to admit the truth he’s been trying to ignore for months. He’s falling for you, hard and fast, and he has no idea what to do about it.

You look up at him, your eyes soft in the dim light of the club. “I’m really proud of you,” you say, your voice barely audible over the music. “You belong here, you know. On the podium, in F1, with m-” you cut yourself off, biting your lip.

Logan’s heart leaps. Were you about to say “with me”? He wants to ask, wants to pull you closer and find out if you feel this connection too.

But before he can say anything, the song ends and the moment is broken. You step back, a slightly flustered look on your face.

“I, uh ... I need a drink,” you say quickly. “Want anything?”

Logan shakes his head, still trying to process what just happened. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

As you disappear into the crowd, Logan makes his way back to the VIP section, his mind reeling. What was that? Did he imagine the moment between you? And more importantly, what is he going to do about these feelings he can no longer deny?

As he sinks into a plush couch, Logan realizes that his first podium might not be the most significant event of the night after all. Whatever happens next, he knows one thing for certain — his relationship with you will never be the same.

***

The Union Jack flutters in the cool Silverstone breeze as Logan crosses the finish line, his heart pounding in his ears. The chequered flag waves, and suddenly, the reality hits him like a tidal wave.

“Logan, you’ve done it!” Marcus’ voice crackles through the radio, filled with unbridled joy. “P1! Your first Formula 1 win!”

Logan lets out a whoop of excitement, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! We did it, guys! Thank you, thank you so much!”

As he starts his cooldown lap, waving to the cheering crowds, Logan can’t help but chuckle at the irony. An American winning the British Grand Prix. He can almost hear the collective groan of disappointment from the British fans who were hoping for a home victory.

“Sorry, folks,” he murmurs to himself, grinning. “The colonists strike again.”

The sea of orange in the grandstands catches his eye — Dutch fans who always come to support Max Verstappen no matter the location. Logan remembers the intense battle he had with the reigning world champion in the closing laps. The memory sends another surge of pride through him. He didn’t just win, he beat the best of the best.

As he rounds the final corner, heading towards parc fermé, Logan’s mind drifts to you. He wonders if you’re watching, if you’re as excited as he is. Ever since that kiss on the cheek in Miami, he’s been unable to get you out of his head. Every smile, every touch, every late-night strategy session has taken on new meaning.

But fear has held him back. Fear of ruining your friendship, fear of making things awkward with the team, fear of misreading the signals. So he’s kept his feelings bottled up, content (or so he tells himself) with your close friendship.

Logan pulls into his spot in parc fermé, bringing the car to a stop. He takes a deep breath, savoring this moment. His first win. It almost doesn’t feel real.

He unclips his harness and stands up in the cockpit, raising his arms in triumph. The roar of the crowd washes over him and he spots his team gathered at the barriers, jumping and cheering.

Without hesitation, Logan clambers out of the car and runs towards them. He leaps over the barrier, immediately engulfed in a sea of jubilant Mercedes personnel. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but Logan is searching for one face in particular.

Suddenly, the crowd parts, and there you are. Your eyes are shining with pride and something else, something that makes Logan’s heart race even faster than it already is.

Before he can say anything, you stride forward purposefully. Your hands grasp the collar of his race suit, and in one swift motion, you pull him towards you and press your lips firmly against his.

For a split second, Logan is too shocked to react. But then his brain catches up, and he’s kissing you back with every ounce of pent-up emotion he’s been holding back for months.

The world around you fades away — the cheering crowd, the flashing cameras, the excited chatter of the team. All Logan can focus on is the softness of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the rightness of this moment.

When you finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Logan can’t help but grin. “Wow,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “That was ...”

“Long overdue,” you finish for him, a matching grin on your face.

Logan chuckles, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “I couldn’t agree more. But, uh ... your dad isn’t going to fire me for this, is he?”

You laugh, the sound music to Logan’s ears. “Please. He’s been trying to set us up for months. I think he’ll be relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Before Logan can respond, a throat clears behind them. They turn to see Toto standing there, an amused smirk on his face.

“While I’m thrilled you two have finally sorted yourselves out,” he says dryly, “perhaps we could save the more ... intimate celebrations for after the podium ceremony?”

Logan feels his face heat up, but you just laugh, linking your arm through his. “Sorry, Vati. Got caught up in the moment. Come on, Logan. Time to get you on that top step where you belong.”

As you make your way through the paddock, Logan can’t wipe the grin off his face. Crew members, other drivers, and media personnel offer their congratulations, but it all feels secondary to the warmth of you pressed against his side.

“So,” Logan says as they near the cooldown room, “does this mean you’ll be my date to the celebration tonight?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might have other plans. I hear there’s this hot new F1 winner in town ...”

Logan laughs, pulling you closer. “Oh yeah? Well, I happen to know him pretty well. I could put in a good word for you.”

You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “I’d appreciate that. But you should know, I’m not really interested in a fling. I’m more of a long-term kind of girl.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat at the implication. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I’m in this for the long haul.”

Your smile softens, and you lean up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now go, your adoring public awaits. We’ll continue this discussion later.”

As Logan steps onto the podium not long after, the cheers of the crowd washing over him, he can’t help but think that this — the trophy, the champagne, the adulation — is only the second-best thing to happen to him today.

The ceremony passes in a blur of anthems, champagne sprays, and beaming smiles. Logan clutches his trophy, still hardly believing it’s real. As he steps down from the podium, he’s immediately swarmed by journalists, all clamoring for a quote from F1’s newest race winner.

“Logan! How does it feel to win your first Grand Prix?”

Logan grins, his eyes finding you in the crowd. “It’s incredible. A dream come true. But you know what? I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean by that?” Another reporter asks.

Logan’s grin widens. “Let’s just say I’m feeling pretty unbeatable right now, both on and off the track.”

You roll your eyes at him from behind the journalists, but your smile gives away your amusement.

As the interviews wind down, Logan finally manages to break away from the press. He makes his way back to you, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“So,” he says, sliding an arm around your waist, “about the team celebration ...”

You lean into him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, I think we might need to have our own private celebration first. You know, to properly commemorate your first win.”

Logan feels a thrill run through him at your words. “I like the way you think. But, uh ... what about your dad?”

You laugh, linking your fingers with his. “Logan, my dad’s the one who’s been pushing us together for months. Trust me, he’ll be thrilled. Although maybe don’t kiss me like that in front of him again. There are some things a father doesn’t need to see.”

Logan chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Noted. So, what now?”

“Now,” you say, tugging him towards the Mercedes motorhome, “we go change. Then we make a brief appearance at the team celebration. And after that ...” you trail off, your eyes twinkling with promise.

“After that?” Logan prompts, his heart racing with anticipation.

You grin up at him. “After that, we start our own celebration. I think we have a lot of lost time to make up for, don’t you?”

Logan nods, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Absolutely. And hey, I’m a quick learner. I bet I can make up for that lost time in record speed.”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart soar. “Always the racer. But you know what? I think this is one race where taking it slow might be the winning strategy.”

As you make their way through the paddock, hand-in-hand, Logan can’t help but marvel at how much his life has changed in just a few short months. From reserve driver to race winner, from pining in silence to ... whatever this wonderful new thing with you is.

One thing’s for sure — this win will always be special. Not just because it’s his first, but because it’s the day everything finally fell into place. The day he not only conquered the track but also found the courage (with a little help) to follow his heart.

As the two of you reach the Mercedes motorhome, Logan pulls you close for one more quick kiss. “Hey,” he says softly, “just in case I forget to say it later ... thank you. For believing in me, for supporting me, for ... well, for everything.”

You smile up at him, your eyes soft with affection. “Always, Logan. Now come on, race winner. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

***

The bright lights of the Tonight Show studio beat down on Logan as he sits across from Jimmy Fallon, trying to keep his nerves in check. It’s his first major American talk show appearance, and he wants to make a good impression.

Jimmy leans forward, a warm smile on his face. “So, Logan, it’s been quite a year for you, hasn’t it? From losing your seat at Williams to winning races with Mercedes. How has your life changed?”

Logan chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Oh man, Jimmy, where do I even start? It’s been an absolute whirlwind. You know, when I lost that Williams seat, I thought my F1 dream was over. I was devastated.”

Jimmy nods sympathetically. “I can imagine. That must have been tough.”

“It was,” Logan agrees. “But you know what? Looking back now, I can honestly say it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? How so?”

Logan grins, leaning forward in his chair. “Well, first of all, it led to this incredible opportunity with Mercedes. I mean, going from potentially being out of F1 to driving for one of the top teams? It’s like something out of a movie.”

The audience cheers, and Logan feels a surge of pride. He’s come a long way from that dejected kid in Toto’s office last year.

“But that’s not all,” Logan continues, his smile softening. “Losing that seat also led me to the love of my life.”

A collective “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy leans in, clearly sensing a good story. “Tell us more!”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up slightly, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. “Her name is Y/N. She works for Mercedes, and she’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful. She was the one who really helped me believe in myself when I joined the team.”

Jimmy grins. “Sounds like quite a woman. How did you two get together?”

Logan laughs, remembering that day at Silverstone. “Well, I’d been pining after her for months, too scared to make a move. Then I won my first race at the British Grand Prix, and she just ... grabbed me and kissed me right there in parc fermé. In front of the whole team, the cameras, everyone.”

The audience cheers and whistles, and Jimmy laughs. “Wow! Talk about a victory celebration! So, she made the first move, huh?”

Logan nods, grinning. “Yep. Thank god one of us had the courage. Although I have to say, her dad being my boss made things a little awkward at first.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? Her dad is your boss? You mean ...”

“Yep,” Logan confirms, enjoying the host’s reaction. “I’m dating the boss’s daughter. Toto Wolff’s daughter, to be exact.”

The audience gasps and murmurs, and Jimmy leans back in his chair, looking impressed. “Wow. That’s ... that’s quite a story. So, how does Toto feel about all this?”

Logan chuckles. “You know, he’s been surprisingly cool about it. Turns out he’d been trying to set us up for months. I think he was just relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Jimmy laughs. “Well, that’s good to hear. No awkward ‘stay away from my daughter’ talks then?”

“Oh, there were talks,” Logan says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But they were more along the lines of ‘if you hurt her, I’ll demote you to test driver faster than you can say DRS.’”

The audience laughs, and Jimmy shakes his head in amusement. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the incentive to be on your best behavior!”

Logan nods, his expression softening. “Absolutely. But you know, even without that ... Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d never do anything to mess that up.”

Another “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy smiles warmly. “That’s beautiful, Logan. It sounds like things are really falling into place for you.”

“They really are,” Logan agrees. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, he adds, “And you know what? I’ve actually got a little scoop for you, Jimmy. The team’s given me permission to reveal something pretty big.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up and he leans in as well. “Oh? Do tell!”

Logan grins, then stage whispers, loud enough for the audience to hear, “I’ve just signed a contract extension with Mercedes. I’ll be with the team until 2028.”

The audience erupts in cheers, and Jimmy’s jaw drops. “What? Logan, that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

Logan beams, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. “Thanks, Jimmy. I still can’t quite believe it myself. Three more years with one of the top teams in F1 ... it’s a dream come true.”

Jimmy shakes his head in amazement. “Wow. From losing your Williams seat to a long-term contract with Mercedes. That’s quite the turnaround.”

“It really is,” Logan agrees. “And you know what? I owe a lot of it to Y/N. She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock through all of this. I don’t think I could have done it without her.”

Jimmy smiles warmly. “It sounds like you two make quite the team. Is she here tonight?”

Logan nods, glancing towards the audience. “She is, actually. She’s sitting right over there.”

The camera pans to where you’re sitting, and you give a shy wave as the audience applauds. Logan feels his heart swell with affection at the sight of you.

Jimmy turns back to Logan, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, Logan, now that you’ve got this long-term contract sorted out ... any other long-term plans in the works? Maybe involving a certain boss’s daughter?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up, but he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Well, Jimmy, let’s just say that when you find the right person, you want to hold onto them for as long as possible. But for now, we’re just enjoying the ride.”

Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to celebrate. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve brought something special to share with us tonight?”

Logan grins, reaching behind his chair to pull out a bottle of champagne. “That’s right. This is the same type of champagne we used for my first win at Silverstone. I thought we could recreate a little podium celebration right here on the show.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, this is going to be fun! But wait, don’t you usually spray this stuff around?”

Logan laughs, standing up. “We sure do. Hope you don’t mind getting a little wet!”

As Logan shakes the bottle and pops the cork, spraying champagne all over a laughing Jimmy and the cheering audience, he can’t help but marvel at how far he’s come. From the depths of disappointment to the heights of success, both on and off the track.

After the champagne settles and they’re both wiping their faces, Jimmy turns to Logan with a grin. “Alright, Logan, before we let you go, I’ve got one more question for you. What’s next? You’ve got the dream job, the dream girl ... what more could Logan Sargeant possibly want?”

Logan pauses for a moment, considering. “You know, a year ago I would have said winning the World Championship was the ultimate goal. And don’t get me wrong, that’s still very much on my radar. But now ... now I think my goal is just to keep living this dream for as long as I can. To keep pushing myself on the track, to keep growing and learning, and to keep building a life with Y/N.”

He glances over at you in the audience, his eyes softening. “Because at the end of the day, all the trophies and champagne in the world don’t mean much if you don’t have someone to share them with.”

The audience “awws” once more, and Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well said, Logan. I think that’s a perfect note to end on. Ladies and gentlemen, Logan Sargeant!”

As the audience applauds and the show cuts to commercial, Logan makes his way off the stage, his heart full. He finds you waiting for him in the wings, a proud smile on your face.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Logan hugs you back, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume. “Thanks. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much with all that mushy stuff.”

You laugh, pulling back to look at him. “Are you kidding? I loved every second of it. Although I have to say, that champagne spray was a bit much. You do realize you’re not actually on a podium, right?”

Logan grins sheepishly. “Sorry, force of habit. But hey, at least I didn’t kiss you in front of millions of viewers. That’s progress, right?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “My hero. Come on, liebling. Let’s go celebrate your big reveal properly.”

As you walk hand-in-hand towards the exit, Logan feels a sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been one hell of a journey, but with you by his side and a bright future ahead, he knows the best is yet to come.

And as you step out into the New York night, Logan can’t help but think that this — the glamor, the success, the adoration — is nothing compared to the simple joy of having you by his side.

Because in the end, it’s not about the trophies or the champagne. It’s about the journey and the people you share it with.

For Logan Sargeant, former underdog turned rising star, the real victory isn’t just on the track. It’s in the love he’s found, the dreams he’s achieving, and the future he’s building — one lap at a time.

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (6) - Mattheo Riddle

Theo and Enzo had never been afraid of Mattheo Riddle. Sure, he was intimidating as hell—violent, unpredictable, and utterly terrifying when he wanted to be—but they’d seen him at his worst, his best, and all the moments in between. They were used to his temper, to the way he thrived on chaos and confrontation.

But there were two things that could truly set him off.

One: Someone messing with you.

Two: You being hurt.

Which was why, when Theo and Enzo stumbled into the Slytherin common room that evening and spotted you sitting on the couch with a busted lip, their immediate reaction was not concern for your well-being.

It was concern for whoever had done this to you.

“Holy shit,” Theo muttered under his breath, elbowing Enzo. “She’s injured.”

Enzo inhaled sharply. “Mattheo’s gonna lose it.”

You looked up at them, confused by their hushed conversation. “What?”

Theo pointed at your lip. “What happened?”

You waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing—”

Enzo snorted. “Yeah, okay, sure. Mattheo’s definitely gonna believe that.”

Theo shook his head. “Nah, she’s screwed. If Mattheo sees that—”

“If Mattheo sees what?”

The low, dangerous voice cut through the air, and both boys immediately straightened up like soldiers at attention.

You tensed, turning your head just in time to see Mattheo approaching, his dark eyes already narrowed in suspicion. His gaze flickered over you, and the second he spotted your split lip, his entire demeanor shifted.

His body went rigid. His jaw clenched.

And the temperature in the room dropped.

“What the fuck happened?” His voice was calm—too calm.

You swallowed, suddenly very aware that both Theo and Enzo were backing away like they wanted to disappear.

“Mattheo, it’s fine—”

“No.” He crouched in front of you, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so he could inspect the damage. His expression darkened. “Tell me what happened princess, right now.”

You hesitated. Mattheo was already on edge from his usual antics, and you didn’t want to add to it. But you also knew there was no way he was letting this go.

So, with a sigh, you muttered, “I got in a fight.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t a big deal—”

Mattheo stood up abruptly, running a hand through his curls, his expression a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “You don’t fight, darling. What happened?”

You bit your lip—ow—and looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

Mattheo exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. “It matters to me.”

You knew you weren’t getting out of this. So, with a small, shaky breath, you finally admitted, “She was saying… things about you.”

Mattheo’s expression flickered. “What?”

Your throat tightened. “Hannah Abbott. She was talking shit about you, and I—I just couldn’t let her get away with it.”

Mattheo went very still.

Theo and Enzo, meanwhile, exchanged looks of complete and utter shock.

“She fought someone for him?” Theo whispered, eyes wide.

Enzo let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t see that coming.”

Mattheo ignored them completely, his focus entirely on you. His anger—the burning, violent rage that had been simmering in his chest—shifted into something else entirely.

His heart swelled.

“You…” He trailed off, staring at you like you’d just told him you would die for him.

You sniffled, a little overwhelmed, but nodded. “I know you don’t need anyone to defend you, but I just—she was being so awful, Mattheo. I couldn’t listen to it.”

Mattheo let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as the sharp edges of his fury softened. He stepped closer, his hands coming to cradle your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.

“Oh, princess.” His voice was so, so soft. “You really are too good for this world.”

You huffed. “I don’t feel very good right now.”

His eyes darkened again, his fingers brushing against your lip so delicately, it almost made you shiver. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the warmth in your chest made it hard to keep up the act. “You should see her though, you’d be proud,” you managed to laugh slightly.

Mattheo exhaled through his nose, his fingers still tracing your skin like he needed to make sure you were real. Then, after a long pause, he murmured, “I don’t doubt it, beautiful. But leave the fighting to me from now on, yeah?”

You blinked. “Mattheo—”

“No, baby.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I know you were trying to protect me. And I love you for it. But you’re mine, and I don’t want to see you hurt.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Let me be the one to fight, okay?”

You bit your lip—again, ow—but nodded. “Okay.”

Mattheo smiled slightly, though his eyes still held a storm. “Good girl.”

Theo groaned dramatically from behind him. “Merlin’s sake, can you at least pretend to be scary right now? You were just about to go on a murder spree, and now you’re whispering the softest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Mattheo turned his head slightly, his expression immediately shifting into something terrifying. “Do you want me to start the murder spree with you, Theo?”

Theo held up his hands. “Nope. All good.”

Mattheo turned back to you, his gaze soft once again as he ran his fingers through your hair. “C’mon, let’s get you some ice.”