#that's your father that raised you just give him a mwah

[mybodyfails]

[isawritesshit]

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

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"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hal, i can't say how happy i am to see you hit such a big number, i've been following you since the beggining and it's so amazing to see this community grow, i love how everyone that interacts is so kind and overall amazing, you deserve that and much more, and i hope things in your personal life keep getting better!! ���

For the event, i would like to request, if possible, a small drabble of Keegan with a daughter, it can be anything, really! I'm a single mom expecting a baby, and i just need to see a strong military man caring for a child, all your other parent fics just hit the hard in the feelings, so i wanted to see my favorite in this prompt too!

—Hold Her Close

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

He holds her carefully as she sits on the back of his neck, hands firm on her legs as they dangle around his shoulders with their tiny little shoes. The child was giggling, no more than seven, as her hands tangled in the black locks of Keegan��s hair and pulled without any real strength; her eyes stared at all the sights to be seen. 

It was early at Fort Santa Monica, so early the mist was still in the air and the chill caused the protective father to suit his daughter into a jacket that puffed around her frame. She’d been crying last night, and rather than ask her to try and fall asleep again, he’d gone on his morning run with some company. It didn’t bother him, of course. 

She was yours and his daughter—she could never bother him for as long as he lived. 

“Having fun up there?” He grunts out, blue eyes shifting up as the child giggles out a small ‘yep,’ and returns to gazing around with glittering eyes. She was so tiny, he thought to himself. So easy to pick up and infect those little eyes with wonder. Everything down to the way the dew looked in the grass was a foreign world to her—mixed with magic and innocence he never wanted to see gone. 

“Which way, Sunshine?” Keegan asks, blinking forward at the split in the sidewalk; left or right?

“That way,” her pudgy hand points, and booted feet obey without question. Left it was. 

The soldier hums and puffs out a breath of condensation into the air, t-shirt and running shorts swaying around him. 

“If you get cold,” he utters, “you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay!” Keegan pushes down a smile, blue eyes so soft you could mistake it for dyed room-temperature butter. While he wouldn’t get the workout he had intended in the brightening sun of the morning, with the sound of waves lapping in the air and the scent of his sweat dripping off his nostrils, he’d still enjoy this. 

“Can we get hot cocoa?” A hand slaps his forehead and he chuffs a laugh, flinching slightly at the tiny connection of skin. 

“Careful, Kid,” the soldier mutters but nods as his daughter's giggles make his chest swell. Damn him, he was done for the moment he’d seen her in the NICU. “Yeah, fine, we can get some hot cocoa. You know something though?”

His daughter's face is above his as he leans his neck back, looking up into her bright face. She blinks, smiling wide.

“What?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a kiss first, Sweetheart.” 

“Ew!” She laughs, and Keegan holds her body still as it moves all around in her childish delight, legs kicking out as the man laughs under his breath. 

“C’mon,” he huffs, “nothing for your Old Man? I’m hurt. You give Riley kisses on the nose all the time.”

She’s still laughing, holding onto his head. Keegan decides there’s never been a more perfect sound. Without another word, a little smooch is pressed into his hairline, an overdramatic ‘mwah’ sounding off with a raise of hands upwards. 

He beams, eyes crinkling and lips pulled back with a wide smile as he shakes his head in amusement. Moving his face forward, the normally stoic soldier sighs and continues on, his daughter on his shoulders and his heart full. 

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓷: 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷’ 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷’

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: When you got dragged along to your father's weekend embassy getaway you were not expecting to meet the one man he couldn't stand. You weren't expecting to catch his eye. You weren't expecting that you'd be fucking him to get back at your father. You sure as hell weren't expecting him to be finger fucking you under your dinner table.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, reader is the ambassador’s daughter [please do not imagine your real dads because this shit gets nasty], thicc age gap [reader is in her early 20s Javier is in his 40s], petnames, Javi can lift reader, mommy and daddy issues for spice, use of ‘daddy’ [once] for extra spice, explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink, mean!dom!brat tamer!Javi, brat!reader, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, semi public sex, fingering under the table, oral [m receiving], facial [oop], slight cumplay?, spanking, choking [like once], unprotected P in V [ do better!!] let me know if I missed anything!!

Word Count: 10.4k

A/N: This is part one of three (1/3) that follows these two's little horny adventure over the weekend. Pure and utter filth because I dreamt about being on an embassy vacay with Javi. Absolute depravity but I hope you nasties enjoy mwah!! 💗

Masterlist

Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem

Lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf

Sophie’s eyes shot open, mouth falling agape as she slowly turned her head in your direction. “You’re fucking kidding!” Lyn was already leaning over you, her upper body between her and your recliner, and Maria and Sandra had picked up their cocktails and skirted closer. 

“DEA Javier?” Anne’s not so subtle reaction prompted a collective “shush” from the group. She lowered her voice, but sounded just as shocked as she did moments ago. “Mean, grumpy, asshole Javier?!” Sandra leaned in closer, then raised her brows at the former indicatively. 

“Pornstar Javier.” 

Maria smacked the both of you on your shoulders, her expression nothing short of grossed out. “You mean my tio Javier.” 

Sighing you let your head fall back against your chair, legs stretched out and crossed over one another as you brought your straw to your upturned lips. Maria dropped her head on your shoulder. “You're going to kill your father”. Giggles floated through the warm afternoon air, drowned out partially by the music emanating from the restaurant nearby. 

You were an unspecified amount of drinks into the morning, but more drunk on the prospect that Agent Peña was now in a prison of his own mind, having started something that had spun quickly out of his control. The sun was shining down on your mostly bare body, skin glittering thanks to the tiny droplets of water that gemmed your legs from when you’d walked across the beach and let the waves crash gently against them. 

Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you met his gawking eyes from across the pool. He was hunched over a whiskey at the bar, pretending like he wasn’t eye fucking his bosses daughter mere seconds ago, enjoying the view under the guise of relaxing with his partners.  

You shot him a wink, concealing your smirk with your strawberry daiquiri when he nearly choked on his drink– clumsily accepting the paper napkin Carillo confusedly offered him. 

You had legitimately tried every possible way of getting out of joining your dad on his little  embassy getaway. It was the middle of summer, and spending the weekend with a bunch of retirees, cops, and CIA agents was not exactly what you would call an ideal vacation. But as always you ended up giving in, and before you knew it you were in Cartagena, sunhat perched on your head, checking into the hotel. 

Why you indulged him was a mystery to you. The man had practically disappeared for six months, and then called you out of the blue begging you to tag along. It was like having the perfect family was a requirement at that shitty excuse of a job. You were convinced you were just there to be an accessory to his polished image, some sort of certificate of achievement for whatever the hell he called parenting. 

But a free vacation? Free booze? Food? And a weekend with your friends? That seemed worth the trouble of having to deal with him for a couple of days, say ‘hi’ to and make menial conversation with his co workers, and sit through whatever superficial dinner they hosted to pat themselves on the back for the work they did over the past year.

Admittedly, it was going a lot better than you had initially expected. The oldies sat around playing cards– trying to discuss retirement plans and secure raises, and you stayed far away, sipping cocktails by the pool, lounging in the summer sun, and watching the volleyball matches on the sand. Cartagena had terrific beaches, and the DEA had a whole lot of people who contributed to the view. 

At least they were good for something. 

Their attaché was good for a lot of things. 

Despite having never met him, you knew quite a lot about Javier Peña. How could you not? The man was on your dad’s mind more than your entire family. Insolent, dismissive, inflexible, impudent, you could go on for hours. You wondered what he was really like– the guy who had gotten more attention from your father in two years of his career than you did your entire life. 

Expecting some grumpy, old, grubby handed man who spent all his time trying to pick up women at bars– calling it espionage, you were knocked for six when you saw tall, brown haired, broad shouldered, cut jaw, Agent Peña respond to his name being called across the reception. For how much the ambassador liked to discuss him he had completely glossed over his striking good looks. 

Even though he wasn’t difficult to miss among the senior citizens it wasn’t his ‘pinup boy’ persona that initially caught your attention. From the moment you’d dragged your suitcase up the lobby staircase you couldn't help but shake the feeling that someone's eyes had been following you. You brushed it off at first, but their gaze had burnt a hole into your back soon enough, and you were forced to scout the room for the supposed perpetrator. 

For better or for worse your voyeur did little to hide their private indulgence. Leaning against the concierge's desk you met the eyes of the one person you were least expecting to have caught the interest of. Granted, Javier looked rather delicious in his dark jeans and blue, cotton shirt, you’d expect he’d have at least a little more shame than everyone at the embassy gave him credit for. 

It was quite flattering actually, the way he was eating up the sight of you in your sundress– that one you bought on your vacation in Italy last summer, the one that fell just above mid thigh, with that soft, white, cotton fabric that was perfect for the hot weather. He was smoking a cigarette beside your father’s assistant Colleen, and a blonde man whose face was turned away from you. His eyes raked over your body and landed on the pendant your dad gifted you for your birthday as it dangled from your neck– the blue diamond brushing over the valley between your breasts. 

He knew you’d caught him, but that didn’t stop the man. It was admirable. 

You had to assume he didn’t know who you were, because if he did he was pretty adventurous for salivating over you so openly, with your father just a few feet away. It wasn't difficult to get on the ambassador’s shit list, and by far Agent Peña seemed to be kicking everyone’s ass for the top spot. The fact that he was so obviously avoiding the ambassador wasn’t doing him any favors. Maybe this was his twisted way of getting back at your dad. Maybe you liked that it was.

Your father moved around the crowded lobby, switching pleasantries with the mostly sunburned crowd. He didn’t bother dragging you along for introductions, and usually you’d prefer being perched on the couch with your friends, but it was almost impossible not to feel a little left out when he cornered Peña and his blonde friend near the flavored water. 

You watched from a distance as the ambassador took the blonde’s hand, shook it and then quite violently patted his back before he shook Peña’s shoulder in a painfully forced gesture. Truth be told, you felt quite bad for the man. It was a shame really– getting forced into spending a weekend with the only people more insufferable than the cartels.  

For him, that is. 

—

It's alarming, honestly, how charming she can be

Fooling everyone, telling 'em she's having fun

The smell of a well cooked meal should not have excited you as much as it did. But the prospect of being able to eat something that wasn’t cooked by your mother was far too appealing to pass upon. Lunch was served, even though you knew it was meant to be more of a commencement ceremony for the weekend. 

You looked towards the restaurant– serenely sandwiched between the beach and the pool, and covered partially by a canopy of palm trees, to find the people moving in in droves.  Eager to get the “fun” going. You had already lost your father to the crowd, and even better it seemed like he’d be gone a while before he’d be inflicting his presence on you once again. 

Sophie emerged from the mob, looking dramatically desperate. She grabbed your arm. “I can’t do this sober”. She was serious as a heart attack, and so were you. Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose you met her gaze. “You and me both” 

Browsing the spread was a workout of its own. The thing seemed to run for miles, and the task was only made harder thanks to the many people who stopped you on the way. “The ambassador's daughter right?!” What more could you do besides smile awkwardly and say hello. The whole world seemed to know your entire life story– where you were studying, your major, the fact that you’d spent the first week of summer with your mother. You knew your father liked to run his mouth, but the fact that you were, in any way, a point of conversation, was at the very least jarring. 

After nearly twenty minutes of perusing you finally made it to the bar, and were utterly grateful for the handsome bartender who fixed your drinks in a giffy. All that was left to do was huddle in the corner and get day-drunk till the entire ordeal was over. 

“Well, well well, what a surprise” Turning around from the onyx countertop, you came face to face with a firm, broad chest. You tilted your chin to find Maria’s dad smiling down at you. He reached for her, then mused the hair in a few rugged motions. She grumbled, but fell into his side anyway. 

You liked Mr Carillo, he was really nice, always personable, and it looked like him and Maria had a great relationship. The man always looked out for her, made jokes with her, and didn’t take himself too seriously. He was a good dad. 

“Nice to see you again Mr. Carillo.” You extended him your first genuine smile in what felt like hours. “So lovely to see you, I was wondering why Maria was so excited to tag along.” The colonel’s booming voice caught the attention of his two companions, who’s heads turned in your direction. 

“That is absolutely false, I would never.” Maria looked at her dad as if to politely ask him to shut up, but as always her bright smile betrayed her. The two laughed, then turned to you once again. 

As if he’d just realized something, Mr. Carillo spoke up frantically. “Oh, my apologies” he shook his head, chiding himself for his lack of introduction, and gestured to the two men sitting beside him. You didn’t need any introductions if you were being honest. After being subjected to your dads twenty four hour complaining you basically knew the whole embassy, could even recognize them from their little quirks or habits. 

You certainly didn’t need an introduction for the dark head of hair that refused to look you in the eyes. “Steve Murphy.” Mr. Carillo grabbed the blonde– the one whose face you couldn't quite catch a glimpse of earlier, by the shoulder. 

If you weren't so taken up by his partner, Murphy’s good looks would have swayed you just the same. But Steve was far too decent to undress you with his eyes from across the room, he was far too level headed to get on your father’s nerves. An unfortunate, or rather fortunate side effect of his unbearably favorable reputation was that he was completely and utterly uninteresting. 

At least to you, brothel stories were far more entertaining than those of the duck hunting variety. And of course, news of hillbilly Steve’s shooting skills had reached the ambassadors desk. You wondered how Javier didn’t consider Murphy and your father’s trip to the lake treason. 

He extended his hand towards you, and you shook it. Deep blue eyes affable and relaxed. Then again almost anyone looked relaxed in comparison to your father. His smile was so annoyingly friendly you thought you might just explode. “Nice to meet you” You noticed the wedding band twinkling on his ring finger. Cute. 

Mr. Carillo nodded in his partner’s direction. “Javier Peña” His presence was a lot less larger than life up close. If you were being honest he looked quite flustered, nervous even. It crossed your mind that who exactly you were was only just beginning to dawn on him. All the machismo seemed to have faded at the realization that death would be better than indulging whatever little fantasy he had brewing in his head. 

If there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was fuck his asshole boss’s daughter. 

“The infamous Javier Peña.” Raising his drink to his lips, he formed a tight smile. “That’s me.” He let out a deep exhale through his nose, followed by another shakey smile, barely concealing his apparent desire to escape the entire situation.

“So you’re the one stealing my dad away.” The nice man that he was, Murphy had already indulged Papa Carillo and hija Carillo in a conversation about college. “nice to finally see you in person.” Javier wasn’t an idiot, anyone who could pick up on your tone would have understood in a moment you’d caught their prying eyes. He sighed, then chuckled, as if to acknowledge your teasing. 

“Javi’s famous at home?” You seemed to have caught the blonde’s attention. You rolled your eyes, then fixed them on the agent in front of you. “You’d think they were married.” The group broke out into laughter, Javier excluded of course, who looked rather embarrassed at the prospect. It felt like only the two of you knew you weren't really joking. 

“Not sitting at the ambassador’s table?” Javier seemed genuinely curious, like you had gone out of your way to silently torment him for his little private moment. “I couldn’t do that to myself” Yet again, there was laughter, and yet again it felt like a little inside joke between just you and Agent Peña. 

Carillo and Murphy quickly became interested in something Maria had to say, and you took the opportunity to make Javier aware you weren’t in fact an completely oblivious idiot. “Hoping to see you around Agent Peña, and not just from afar this time.” He smiled, and raised his glass for a toast, rolling his eyes and finishing the last of his whiskey. 

What kind of a psychopath drank whiskey at 2:00pm 

It wasn’t long before you migrated to the far end of the restaurant. Thanks to the time they spent in Cali you were sure almost everyone had forgotten just how tremendously obnoxious your father was. Well, almost everyone. Poor agent Peña took every opportunity to escape working in Bogota, and still ended up trapped in a room with a hundred other people, being subjected to his presence. 

You popped a cherry into your mouth, reaching for your third drink in a span of two hours, and forced your eyes away from the back of his head. Anything that could help you disassociate from your dads co co-workers' excruciating presence was worth a shot. Maria squeezed onto the table you and your friends were crowded on– all unwilling to go within meters of the shit show inside. She placed two margaritas on the table for Sophie and Sandra, the cultural attaché’s daughters, and then took a sip of her own. Looked like everyone was on the same page. 

Bothersome clapping brought you back to reality, and you gazed up to find your dad moseying his way to the little stage at the center of the restaurant to grab the mic out of Noonan’s grasp. He fixed the sleeves of his white cotton shirt, then tossed his shades into its front pocket. 

The man was preparing. Great. 

Javier hung his head, then rubbed his temple. Presumably realizing that Noonan’s was far from the only speech he’d be enduring that afternoon. You watched as he slithered out of his table, presumably to the bar to drown in another glass of whiskey. If he thought this was bad, you wondered what he’d do if he met your mother. 

Grabbing your lighter from the table you scooted out of your little corner in the far end of the restaurant. Hoping to make your escape before your dad began his toast, or worse noticed your presence. You squeezed past Sandra, whose forehead was plastered to the table, and shimmied out through the side staircase leading to the beach, careful to stay out of view of the stage. 

You’d take anyone’s eyes following you besides your fathers. 

— 

She says, "You don't want to be like me"

Don't wanna see all the things I've seen

I'm dying, I'm dying"

The chipped wooden railing crackled softly under the weight of your leaning elbows, not dissimilar to the click of your lighter, to which you brought your cigarette. 

It was difficult to believe you were already two weeks into the summer. The realization hit you that morning as you checked your ticket, and noticed how you didn't even know what day it was. Time had passed by rather quickly, to your dismay, and the feeling that your little vacation was slipping through your fingers had been haunting you ever since. 

You wondered if this senior citizen's getaway you had decided to accompany your father on was really worth your time and energy. Sure, on the surface it was nice to see some of your friends again, and you’d be lying if you said you weren't excited for a free vacation, but you couldn’t shake the bitter taste the whole ordeal had left on your tongue. 

The warm beach breeze kissed your skin, the smell of sea salt and the squawking of the seagulls lulling you into daze. Your father’s speech drowned out in the distance, and your mind drifted to the way Javier had so shamelessly checked you out in the hotel lobby. 

Effecting you was one thing. Surely you were no stranger to catching people's attention, but it was the absolute boldness of the gesture that struck you. He let his eyes linger on your bare legs, let them rake slowly up your frame as if he were documenting the memory for later use. Right there, two feet away from your father. 

It only made you want him more. 

Agent Peña’s shameless gawking was enough to fan the little flames of desire already set ablaze in your system– since the moment you noticed him leaning against the concierge’s desk. But it was the precariousness of the situation that really excited you. As suave as he may seem, Peña was quite an easy read. You didn’t need to be a psychoanalyst to understand the man wasn’t one to say no to a little chaos, a little adrenaline rush, dare say a little fun.  You also didn't need to be a psychoanalyst to notice the fact that he was clearly working against every bone in his body not to yield to his desires– for the sake of his peace of mind, and professionalism 

You could imagine it already, the satisfaction of driving him just a little bit crazy– starting him off on something you knew he’d be compelled to finish. Something that if your father were to find, would drive him absolutely insane. After all you’d endured all these years, who was he to deny you a little fun? That too just to preserve his status and ego. 

“Your dad know you’re sneaking off for a smoke in the middle of his toast?” Startled, you whipped your head in the direction of the voice, speak of the devil. You came face to face with Agent Peña leaning against the railing beside you. He crushed the butt of his cigarette against the wood. It was then you realized he had clearly been out far longer than you had. 

“I don't know agent Peña, does your boss know you’re sneaking out in the middle of his toast?” You leaned towards him as you spoke, catching the faint scent of alcohol, cologne and now nicotine off his shirt, and watched his lips lift into a subtle smirk concealed lightly by thin gray smoke. 

He raised his brow, and without waiting for you to offer, swifty took your cigarette from between your fingers– he took a puff. “So that's how it is..” his fingers brushed your skin when he handed the cigarette back to you, and you matched his expression as you took it between your index and thumb. 

“I wont tell if you won’t”  It was quite impressive how he managed to sneak up beside you, without catching your attention in the slightest. Not to mention you weren’t exactly sure how long he’d been creeping on you before he decided to do it anyway. If he looked at his informants with even half the charm he was flaunting with you, you’d have a lot of faith in his success rates. Who knew, maybe he was better at his job than your father liked to believe? 

“The ambassador’s daughter huh?” It came out more strained than anything. Talk about an easy read– the man could barely curtail his disappointment. He looked at you once again.  “Couldn’t tell.”

Cocking your head to the side you narrowed your eyes at him- expecting some stupid explanation. “Yeah, why’s that?” 

“Expected you to be younger ‘f ‘m being honest.” He used the edge of the railing like an ashtray. “Really? How young.” You knew he was teasing, but you were also somewhat curious. What did he think your father’s daughter would be like? 

He shrugged. “Four, five.” Then just barely managed to conceal his laughter. He was handsome, charming, strong headed and his career goals consisted of more than kissing his superiors asses. Of course your father hated him. 

“At his age, please. If you're looking for a promotion, I'm not helping.” Scoffing, you watched as his eyes shifted to the beach. As he had done in the lobby you took your time to take in his profile– the way the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his sunglasses teasingly tugging them further down. 

He broke the silence. “So, What brings you on the retirement trip” 

“I like a change of environment once in a while.” You shrugged, surprised by what seemed to you like genuine curiosity. 

“What environment? The antique show?” He half rolled his eyes, then just barely motioned his head towards the restaurant. You sighed as you looked on, making out only the top of your dads head turning left to right, then another burst of artificial laughter. You turned back to face him, eyes raking over his frame. 

“‘Was thinkin’ more vintage.” Javier laughed, almost impressed with how forward you were, leaning further forward across the railing, with his yale blue shirt stretched to the seams across his back, hugging his biceps and folding right above his elbow. “S’ that so?” 

“And what's your deal? Just like pissing off the establishment?” his eyes dropped to your lips as he watched you take a puff. “Doesn't take much to do that now, does it babydoll?” The pet name had your breath hitching in your throat, you knew you were treading rocky waters. 

“And how would I know that, Agent Peña” it felt like his brown eyes could look right through your body and to your soul, deep and twinkling– with what exactly you weren't sure at that moment. He chuckled to himself. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but what fun was just admitting it when you could involve him in your shenanigans. 

Momentarily your eyes shifted to the cigarette. His eyes were trained on the smoke gently slipping past your lips as you inspected it. You twirled it between your fingers, and then turned your head to face him once again. “Just a hunch.” If he planned to keep you away he was doing a terrible job. Every moment spent with you was another foot underground. 

Unfortunately for him, his attention was quickly diverted once again when he noticed you bring the cigarette to his mouth. Aware of what you were trying to do he parted his lips, letting you place it between them. You watched intently as he took a puff, still holding it in place without flinching. Gently, you brought it back to your mouth, but not before thumbing his bottom lip discreetly. 

He exhaled the smoke. “See what I mean?” His jaw ticked, face tense but eyes turning impossibly darker. You almost felt a little bad for torturing and teasing him the way you were– knowing full well he couldn’t act on his desires. The man had little self control, and despite that he knew exactly what he was getting into when he sneaked up behind you. His compulsion was sweet. 

You stepped closer, rising to your tiptoes to have your lips ghost his. “Maybe I do.” As you had done moments ago this time he reached for the cigarette between your lips. The man was using every bit of self restraint he could muster to keep his hands away. The tension in his brows formed tiny creases in his forehead, and his eyes practically pleaded with you to put him out of his misery – because god knows he looked like he couldn’t do it himself. 

“Darling?!” Your eyes widened for a split second, before your lips reverted to their smile– the ring of your dads voice from what was not too far away bursting Javier’s little bubble and sending a wave of sheer panic through his system. It was cute– like a child getting caught holding hands with their kindergarten crush at recess. 

Among the employees you’d heard about, you certainly didn't expect to be endeared by Javier Peña of all people. Still mere inches away from his face, you tilted your head ever so slightly, placing a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt his skin flush under your touch. The sound of muted laughter echoed from the restaurant once again, and you couldn’t help the feeling that it was mocking the man in front of you. 

“See you at dinner Agent Peña!” 

—

She says, "You don't want to get this way

Famous and dumb at an early age

Lying, I'm lying"

You had to bend your knees when you tried to catch up with your dad along the cobblestone pathway. Just to make sure you weren’t giving people a view as you ran in your all too short dress. Well, the wrong people that is. The ambassador had stood outside your door for a good twenty five minutes, willing you to come out while you tried on every possible outfit combination you had packed, all to catch the eyes of the one person he couldn’t stand. 

It was quite enjoyable actually, hearing him plead with you to just throw something on and get moving as you sat inside– feet up on the vanity, perfecting your look, knowing just what the consequences would be. 

You looked over yourself in the mirror time and time again. From the nail polish on your toes to the delicate earrings sparkling against your neck you spared nothing to ensure no detail of your appearance was left unaddressed. 

An entire night of sitting and clapping at dull speeches, hearing each diplomat drone on about their achievements? Worst of all your father- who you were sure was going to take the opportunity of an open mic to give a lecture about hard work and dedication? Might as well make it an occasion. 

With so much on your mind, who could blame you for forgetting to slip on your panties? A small lapse in your memory that was completely unmotivated, and to be honest, quite unfortunate, considering you were seated next to a certain Agent Javier Peña for the evening. 

Throwing your oversized blazer on in a rush, you hoped it would do the job of making you look somewhat put together to everyone else at that shitty dinner. You were quite thankful when you realized you were not overdressed for the occasion, rather your short black dress came off far more ‘smart casual’ compared to the full length gowns, satin shawls and bow ties that roamed the hotel ballroom. 

Tables were separated by mere feet, the room barely being able to accommodate the large crowd. Finding your seat seemed like a task, one that nearly everyone was struggling with. You knew you were seated with your dad at one of the smaller ones at the far end of the ballroom, but you didn't expect to be squeezing past entire embassy departments to get there. 

It seemed like you’d been wandering for hours before you saw a face you recognised. You ducked under Javier’s deputy Neil, your head missing a jab from his elbow by inches as you attempted to scoot towards his boss– as always nursing a glass of alcohol in complete isolation, fingers massaging his temples. 

And here you thought you weren’t looking forward to the event. 

You walked up behind him. “I think you’re in my seat” You’d think he’d seen a ghost the way he seemed to be jumpscared by your presence. You felt the fabric of your dress brush the cut of your upper thigh– he was right to be afraid. He muttered a soft “christ” under his breath and swallowed thickly. 

“Well, well, look who it is” The poor man sounded pained, just not pained enough to resist undressing you with his eyes as you walked around him and took a seat. It was like he was scared of you– of how good you looked in that little black dress, that slightly oversized blazer barely hiding you away from his prying eyes. Flattered, you let him enjoy the view for a moment, slipping your blazer off your shoulders far slower than necessary and letting it crumple behind you. 

He watched the goosebumps erupt on your skin, thanks to the cool of the air conditioning.   

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, all dressed up” You batted your lashes at him, leaning closer. If you thought he looked good before, boy did he look delicious in his fitted navy blazer, white shirt, and red tie. The outfit was so devastatingly boring, but he made it work somehow. He let out a small laugh, more of an exhale through his nose. 

Your fingers ran along the unnecessarily expensive silk table cloth, lipstick you had smudged on your fingertips earlier staining it ever so slightly, inching closer. “That's cute babydoll, ambassador's mandate” He didn't even need to try to sound condescending, it was practically an inherent part of his tone. You rolled your eyes, then pouted up at him, reaching for his hand that was gripping his glass of whiskey. 

“Who cares what the ambassador has to say, anyway” He let you play with his fingers, but scoffed at your whiny words out of stubbornness nonetheless. “Oh yeah, surely that's not a problem for you, is it?!” He was so close you could make out the scent of alcohol already on his breath– fanning against your smiling lips. You dropped your hand to rest on his thigh. Even by your standards you were being quite bold, but the sight of him shivering at your touch was well worth it. 

You could have indulged him in conversation for hours, but unfortunately for him, from the corner of your eye you spotted a familiar black dress shirt, punctuated by the tone of manufactured enthusiasm.   

“Hi darling” You jumped from your seat, rather quickly, and presumably gave Javier a bigger shock than the one you had two minutes before. A shame he seemed too lost in your conversation to have noticed your father strut to his seat. 

“Hi dad” Smiley as ever you leaned over the table just enough to kiss his cheek, and more than enough to give Javier a view that had him choking on his drink yet again. The hem of your dress tickled your upper thigh. You bit back a smile when heard him cough behind you. 

Thank god for his dark blazer– you’d hate to have his whiskey stain his perfect outfit. 

Your father gave him a curious, worried onceover as he scrambled to his feet. “Good evening Agent Peña, all okay?”

“Yes- yeah,– perfect ambassador-” Things were in fact not perfect– by his standards that is. You could tell by the storm that was clearly brewing under his professional facade. He let out a shaky breath, wiping his sweaty palms on the fabric of his dress pants while he watched your dad inspect the name placards. “Quite a table they put together huh?”

“Tell me about it” He breathed, and shot you a look that could kill. Having caught a glimpse of what was under your dress– or rather the lack thereof, you couldn’t blame him. 

“Mr. Stechner! So nice to see you-” For the first time in his life Javier was happy to see Bill Stechner. He took the opportunity opened by your dad as he greeted him to give you a piece of his mind. “Are you tryna’ get me fucking killed?!” He did not sound happy, voice a seething whisper in your ear. You bit your lip to keep from smiling. 

“Slipped my mind..” You were lucky the table was big, the arriving guests oblivious to your whispers. He took a final swig of his drink, glass now empty and glistening with golden residue. It was nearly full when you first approached him. 

“Bil, Brenda” Javier’s hatred for Bill was so well known even you were privy to it. The man did little to hide it anyway. The thought of poor old him juggling Stechner, Noonan, your father and now you only egged you on. He shook the man's hand, and you wondered if Bill felt the otherwise indifferent agent’s cold sweat. 

He turned back to you. “Yeah? you managed a blazer but not your fucking panties?” You’d think Javier’d leave this kind of a shakedown for his interrogations, because by the way he was talking to you you’d think you’d committed some horrendous offense. When he put it the way he did, it sounded a lot more adventurous then you would have let yourself believe. 

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. 

He grabbed a fresh drink off a passing waiter’s tray– one that was definitely not meant for him. “Thank you.” Then again with how chaotic the past five minutes turned out to be you were sure he didn’t care. 

“Wasn’t thinkin’ bout that” You pouted up at him, and he looked like he could almost cry from frustration. What a sight that would be for the embassy dinner. He exhaled heavily instead. 

“Goddamn brat” 

That you were, and you were going to be until he finally caved. 

The table took their seats, former ambassador Noonan and Milgroup head Owen joining the group. Thanks to the way the room was set up, those sitting opposite you and Javier were forced to turn their chairs towards the stage at its front so as to not crane their necks awkwardly during the speeches. They were quite enthused about the whole thing, but you wondered why, considering they wouldn’t be missing much by looking away anyways. 

“Stuck with the old curmudgeons tonight huh?” Owen pointed to the rest of the table like he didn’t already have a foot in the grave. They laughed nonetheless. “Gonna be a long night.”  Noonan turned away just in time to not notice Javier grip the bottom of your chair, and yank it closer. You looked up at him, as if to ask what the hell he was doing, but he paid you no mind. Until that moment you were feeling quite smug, even impressed with yourself. But you were stupid to think that Javier Peña, of all people, was going to let your misbehavior slide. 

“Better get comfortable” To the ringing words from father dear the group clinked their glasses. Javier pat you on the back, casually letting his hand slither down and rest beside your leg on your chair. What the hell was he doing?  It didn’t matter, your dad was already bringing up his successful raid in Cali. 

“Congratulations Agent Peña, I wish I would’ve bought you a bottle of champagne or something. Completely slipped my mind”  It of course did not slip your fathers mind, he’d brought up the raid on the way to the resort. There was just no way in hell he was conceding to that “fucker” especially after he’d ignored his instructions. Instructions that were very clear: do not go forward with that raid. 

“Not at all, ambassador. All this- “ He gestured to the table “Is more than enough” what a fucking shill. You had to give it to him, the man knew how to kiss ass. Surely the establishment would notice, but hell what could they even do? His mockery was so subtle they couldn't even point it out. 

“Gives us a reason to see the kids” Genuine as ever Owen raised his glass. Maybe you gave these freaks too much credit. Out of the blue you felt a warm hand sneak up your upper thigh, finding a home dangerously close to the hem of your dress. Yelping unintentionally you felt a chill run down your spine as Bill spoke. 

“Of course! s’nice to see some fresh faces” 

Rough fingers smoothed over your supple skin. “To the youngsters” Your father raised his glass, but you could barely think of anything else besides the desire that was polling in your belly. You shifted in your seat again, but Javier was quick to pinch you slightly as a warning. Something told you it was the least severe one he dished out. 

The room suddenly felt a lot warmer than it did a few minutes ago. Javier brushed his thumb against your flesh, then squeezed. He gazed down for a moment, then smiled the first genuine smile you’d seen that evening. He raised his glass, and looked your father right in the eye. 

“To your daughter, ambassador” 

That sick fuck. You’d be lying if you said it didnt make your heart flutter, or your tummy twist with need. And you thought he was shameless before. You lifted your champagne glass to the toast, but clinking glasses was a whole lot more difficult considering Agent Peña had inched his way up and made himself comfortable on your inner thigh. 

It was getting more and more difficult to ignore the warm tingle between your legs, the way Javier’s touch was leaving your skin uncomfortably tingly. 

Feeling the heat rise up your neck and burn the shell of your ears you dropped your gaze from the rest of your companions, grateful when they turned their attention to the ceremony. The lights dimmed to signal the welcome speaker to the stage, and you just hoped, prayed they would stay exactly that way the entire evening. 

You turned to the dirty old man beside you only half hoping what you were about to say would kick some sense into him. “Are you crazy?! What the fuck are you doing?” A few inches up and he’d be fingering you at the table-  

your heart pounded in realization. 

His hand slipped under the veil of your dress, his smile dripping with condescension as he leaned beside your ear– whisper hot and deep and heavy.  “Wanted it so bad didn’t ya babydoll? Now you’re gonna take it, and you better stay fucking quiet.” His words went straight to your core. You wanted to respond, but what was there to say? Besides, Colleen had taken the stage already- there was no going back now.

You felt your pulse in your throat. As the crowd broke into applause his rough fingers slipped between your aching folds, immediately drenched with your slick. Still looking forward he raised his brows, biting back a smile at how wet you were for him. Few more minutes and you’d be sliding off the damn chair. 

Instinctively, you shifted forward on your chair, willing him closer. You swallowed a whimper when he pinched your thigh– hard this time, and shot you a deadly look of warning. You’d flown too close to the sun, and now you were in no position to negotiate with him. 

His fingers moved to draw gentle soft circles on your clit, eyes completely focused on Neils little end of year debrief. He worked agonizingly slow, rubbing you just enough to keep building that pool of desire burning in your belly. 

You had to fight the extreme urge to grind against his hand, his feather light touches making you break into a cold sweat. Folding forward you rested your head against your hand, screwing your eyes shut in an effort to block out the buzz that had taken over your whole body. 

Neil said something marginally funny, and your table broke into laughter– forcing a strained chuckle out of your throat. Javier kept going, no regard for the fact that you were shifting and squirming in your seat with need. You hoped it was convincing enough to draw attention away from your labored breaths. 

His digits slipped further back, barely teasing your leaking entrance. You gasped, but quickly realized your faux pas, and covered it up with the most convincing cough you could muster. Noonan turned around– concerned as ever the poor woman, as did Bill and his wife Brenda. 

“You alright?” you nodded, voice strained. “Sorry, allergies”. Javier the pervert that he was didn’t plan on easing up on you, just returned his attention to your aching clit. With the three of them looking directly at you. “I think I need some water”. You attempted to evade his hold and escape– hoping he’d get the message and finish what he started outside. 

Your plans however, were immediately trampled upon, with the ever chivalrous Javier speaking up. “Oh you can have mine, wouldn’t want to miss the speech.” He pushed his glass of water towards you with two fingers, eyes finding yours, lips twitching into a smile. 

It felt like hours, you had no clue what the hell was happening around you– so utterly focused on trying to curtail your moans. You’d finished your champagne a while ago, but were dizzy thanks to Javier's moving digits. 

Fast for a moment, then slower, he rubbed your sopping cunt like it was the most normal thing in the world. Everytime you looked at him he made sure to ignore you, knowing full well that one glance under the thin cover off your table cloth and anyone would be privy to your debauchery. 

As if things couldn't get any more scandalous, your dad turned towards him. He asked Javier a question, and the agent responded more enthusiastically than he ever had. 

Unable to look at the man you kept your gaze fixed on your empty glass of champagne, burning with humiliation. Part of you, a bigger part than you’d like to admit, secretly seemed to enjoy the entire ordeal. After all he’d put you through you couldn’t help but tip your hat at Javier’s absolute nerve. 

Just barely, he slipped a thick finger in your dripping hole, curling it ever so slightly as he continued to engage your father in conversation. The maniac that he was Javier looked the ambassador right in the eyes– like he wan’t finger fucking his only daughter under their dinner table. 

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck, the whole room looking disorderly. You were beginning to see double. As if not to provide you too much relief he slipped his finger out of your dripping cunt, teasing your inner thighs. 

So close, you were so close, just on the brink of no return, but you couldn’t cum – for more reasons than one. It was all too much, and you were overheating, and you felt dizzy. You didn't realize your breathing had quickened, and so did his fingers. You heard someone call your name, but couldn’t make out who exactly it was. 

Falling forward and into a fit of coughs you screwed your eyes shut. Zoning in and out of consciousness you attempted to focus on your father’s face as he called out for you. Javier’s hand had settled on your thigh once again, rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to calm you down. 

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Catching your breath you swallowed thickly, watching as your dad prepared to get up from his seat. From the looks of it he must have thought you were dying. If you were in any condition to, you would have stopped him yourself. It would only make things worse than they already were. 

Lucky for you a hand on his shoulder promptly intercepted him. 

Javier leaned in his direction. Nodding towards the stage. “Your speech ambassador.” He looked towards you, sweaty and hot all thanks to him. “I'll handle it.” That bastard. He knew your dads vices just as well as you did– completely confident he could never abandon his chance at addressing the captive audience of his employees, no matter how important the interruption. 

More swiftly than you’d like to admit he helped your shaky legs out of your chair. You haphazardly pulled and tugged at the hem of your dress, nervous it was doing little to cover you up. 

“Thank you Agent Peña.” In the midst of your extreme desperation you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. What kind of man, father, let some stranger watch his daughter– who by the looks of it was pretty much on the verge of a heart attack? Sure, it would have foiled your secret little plan, but christ it would be nice if he could hold up the caring father act a little longer. 

“Let's get you some air sweetheart” The fucker smiled so sweetly it made you want to deck him in the face, but boy were you itching to get outta that ballroom. He let you walk in front of him, putting himself between the dress that barely concealed your wet, swollen, bare pussy, and anyone else’s prying eyes. 

Once you were out of eyeshot he practically dragged you outside, pushing you roughly against the back of the building. He caged you against the wall, ripping that pathetic excuse of a cover up right of where you were holding it against your body. “Oh babydoll, you still pretendin’ you need that shitty blazer”. It was only then you realized how cold the evening was. 

“See that-” he held up his hand, fingers coating with your slick. “See what a desperate brat y’are” You were dripping for him, you could feel it on the insides of your thighs, you didn’t necessarily need a reminder. 

Bringing his fingers to your mouth he ran them across your lips, the taste of your own arousal now heady on your tongue. “Jus’ for you.” Looking up at him through your lashes you slurred your words. Unintentionally sounding a lot more dumb and drunk than you intended. 

“Oh really?” Unimpressed, he grabbed your face, and roughly tugged you towards him.  “Don’t think so honey” Before you could think you were being spun to face the wall you had you back against moments ago. He was practically scolding you. 

“not when you showed up in this flimsy lil dress, tits and ass out for the whole world to see.” The disgust was evident in his tone, but the both of you knew he had just as much part to play in this whole deal as you did. He pressed your face against it, one hand more than enough to hold you there while the other found the hem of your dress– fiddling with it. A cool breeze brushed your skin when he flipped it over. 

“Look at that-” running two fingers against your folds, he admired the mess between your thighs. Your slick glistened against your skin obscenely in the moonlight, and if the way Javier chuckled behind you was any indication, he sure as hell seemed proud to be the one responsible for the mess. 

You ached for him. Tension only building by the moment. 

“So goddamn needy, ready to cum on my fingers in front of that damn whole room.” The flesh of your ass was left stinging in the wake of his hand that came down harshly against you. Sounding both exasperated and prideful you felt his breath tickle your ear as he spoke.  

“Felt so good.” It came out broken and whimpery, and had him pressing against you with a chuckle. You felt him grind against your ass, hard and heavy. Desperate already, every moment left empty only made you more of a brat. Your hand snaked behind you and between your bodies to haphazardly tug at his belt, but he promptly grabbed your wrist, and twisted it till you yelped. 

Chuckling beside your ear he slapped your ass yet again. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, babydoll?” Upper body pressed flush between his expansive chest and the wall you shivered. The warmth of Javier’s body was the only thing between you and the cold, cold night. 

“dumb” smack “slut” smack. 

You felt your cunt spasm around nothing, if he was looking to get back at you it was working. In an effort to catch a glimpse of him, you turned your cheek. “Need you so bad” your whole body was hot with desire, voice so full of want. 

With a strong hold on your waist, he firmly squeezed before deftly flipping you towards him once again. Your back hit the wall and his hands flew to cup your cheeks. He brushed his thumbs over your cheek bones, mocking your pout with one of his own. 

“Oh babydoll, I know.” murmuring, he trailed his knuckles along the valley between your breasts. Pinching the fabric of your neckline between his fingers he inspected it. His twinkling eyes met yours again. “I know, ‘s okay, babydoll.” God you loved hearing that name. The flimsy strap fell off your shoulder, and he took the opportunity to pull it down, revealing your bare chest to the chilly evening breeze. 

You shuddered, feeling your nipples pebble under his soft touch. The view must really be something– especially with the way he sucked in a breath, reveling in it with a sigh.  “Lucky you’re so fucking pretty”. You meweled when you felt him squeeze your breast in his palm, then bend down to kiss along your neck. His little backhanded compliments making you dizzy. 

“Cuz’ you can’t fucking think straight” He dragged his lips to the base of your jaw. 

“Been all over me the whole fuckin’ day” his teeth grazed your earlobe before he placed a kiss behind your ear. “Beggin’ for my attention?” his voice dropped three octaves, and despite all the shamelessness you’d shown, the heat rose to your cheeks. There was no doubt he felt it on your scorching skin. 

“Wanted to make your pops mad huh?” Your dress bunched up over your hips as he lifted you, legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He took the chance to slip his hands under it, trying to feel any part of you he could expose. 

Your lips met his in a frantic kiss– raw from how you'd been biting them all night, letting him lick into your mouth. Somewhere along the way he’d undone his belt, and you felt his cock rest heavy against the inside of your thigh. “Gonna fuck all this brat outta ya’ jus’ like ya need babydoll.” The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable. He looked so handsome, skin illuminated by the moonlight, hair completely disheveled thanks to how you’d run your fingers through it. 

His hands grabbed your thighs, lifting you ever so slightly to ease you onto his cock. The growl that left his lips was nothing short of animalistic. Your mouth fell agape in a wordless cry at the stretch of him. Big and thick inside of you. The feeling of finally being full beginning to satisfy the burning desire that had been ablaze in your core for the past hour. 

Javier didn’t waste time, hips slamming into yours quick and steady immediately. The drag of his cock against your wet walls had you throwing your head back, the two of you engulfed in a bubble of hot moans and breathy sighs. 

“This what you wanted? Wanted to get fucked against the wall like a hooker?” He forced your eyes to meet his, fingers gripping your chin roughly. He watched you intently, taking in every flutter of your eyes, tick in your jaw, bite of your lip. “Y- yes- god”  

“Fuck, takin’ this cock so well.” Your back arched against the flat of the wall, tits bouncing with every thrust of his hips. The feeling was like no other– knowing he was staring down at your body– the sight of your clothes half off you, eyes clouded and barely open, lips parted.  

You felt his cock twitch inside you. 

One hand gripping your thigh, the other plastered to the wall beside your head he pounded into your aching cunt. His broad frame engulfed you in a little cocoon of your own, broad shoulders slumped forward. 

You made out a muffled voice from inside– your dad going on about something along the lines of “his lovely daughter, who getting through the year would be impossible without.” If only he knew. 

Seemed like Javier also took notice– a sarcastic chuckle slipping past his lips. 

“Hear that baby girl? Think he knows what his ‘good girl’s doin’ out here” You shook your head vehemently, smiling at the thought your father was inside preaching the gospel while his daughter was getting railed by the one man he couldn't stand– like one of his back alley hookers. You moaned between your little laughs– constantly cut off by the feeling of his cock nudging that sweet spot inside you. 

You took his bottom lip gently between your teeth, then released it before nipping at his jaw. “Fucking brat”. He groaned– low and breathy, smiling against your lips. “Think he knows his good girls gettin’ fucked by a guy twice her age?” 

“Not his good girl” In the midst of your breathless whining, you tugged him closer, head shaking vehemently. The hand that had been beside your head came to cup your breast. He looked so proud it sent your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Yeah, that’s right. ‘s cause you're my dumb slut aren’t you?” Approvingly, he brought his large hand to wrap around your neck, swallowing your moans in a kiss. You nodded your head frantically– it took a whole lot more effort with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat, pinning your head against the wall, but you managed it. 

“Think he can hear you begging for my cock, babydoll?” His nose brushed yours as he murmured suggestively against your slack lips. Probably feeling how your cunt squeezed around him he made the correct assessment that you were enjoying every little bit of this debauched encounter. “Little slut.” His hips slammed against yours, your back grazing the brick wall behind you as you bounced on his cock. 

“Don’t care.” Even when he was fucking you like a back alley slut the prospect of making him feel good was enough to quell your conscience. Besides being able to spite your dad, you were thoroughly enjoying his attention, his praise, the way he liked calling you babydoll when he was making you cum on his cock. 

“Fuck, so goddamn tight-” he nipped at your neck. “wouldn’t think it huh babydoll? Not with the way you’re whoring yourself around” His words disoriented you and you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer– deeper as you neared your release. You felt your pussy flutter around his cock, each slam of his hips having his tip brush your sweet spot.  

“Gonna cum” it came out a squeak as you flung your arms around his neck, raking your fingerings through his hair– tugging and pulling, just grappling at anything to cope with the heat between your legs. He rested his forehead against yours, forcing your gaze towards him. “Dirty little thing. Cum all over my cock. Show me how much you wanted it– come on.” 

You fell forward, buried your face in the crook of his neck as you came undone, walls pulsing around him. “Fuckin hell, squeezing me so fucking good, babydoll.” Spaced out you rode out your high, body shivering with the aftershocks as he continued to fuck your sensitive pussy. He pinned your head against the wall with his hand around your throat once again, needing to see the sight of you. 

The feeling of your cunt gushing around his cock had his hips stuttering against yours. You felt him throb inside you– he was so close. He screwed his eyes shut. “Where you want it babydoll?” 

You weren't really sure what exactly came over you, but the words were leaving your mouth before you could even register them. “my face.” At first, he looked at you a little incredulously, but after he’d had a moment to register he seemed more than inclined to give you what you wanted. “Really are a whore aren't you?” 

He quickly, but steadily let go of your thighs, and took a step back to make room for you infront of him. 

You swiftly lowered yourself to your knees, taking his cock, wet with both his and your arousal, past your lips. “Fuckin’ where you belong” He grabbed the back of your head, thrusting into your warm, wet mouth. You felt the tip of him nudge the back of your throat. Tears stung the back of your eyes, then smudged your mascara and rolled down your cheeks in thick opalescent drops. 

“Aint that right babydoll?” you hummed around him, attempting to take him as far back as you could. He didn’t spare you any sympathy, guiding you over his cock in harsh motions, and seemingly egged on by the way you choked and spluttered around him. Your hands flew to grip his thighs. 

“S’ all it takes to shut ya up?” You whined around his length, hollowing your cheeks and gazing into his hooded eyes. The gravely, sandy ground scraped against your bare knees, even more so when you shifted slightly closer to Javier. Little grains left their indents on your skin. You felt them bruise with each movement. 

In the moment he eased his grip on the back of your head and you released him with a pop. You took him in your hand, stroking the length of him and suckling at the head, voice slightly hoarse from the friction. 

“Please daddy, need it so bad” You whimpered, gazing up at him through wet lashes. He exhaled deeply, brows furrowed, and lips parted. You caught him completely off guard with that one, but judging by the look on his face you’d hit the jackpot. 

He cursed under his breath. “Holy shit” Closing your eyes you fluttered your tongue against him, relishing his groans as he hit his release. You felt his cock pulse and throb in your hand, cum hitting your face in hot spurts as he rode out his high. Thrusting into your fist. 

You swirled your tongue around the head, kissing his tip. When you opened your eyes you found him intently watching his spend trickle down your chin and down the valley between your breasts. Your tongue darted out to lick your swollen lips, and he visibly suppressed a groan at the action. 

“Goddamn” You could barely make out what he said the way he was catching his breath. Sighing, he stroked your head affectionately, almost petting you. You dodged his hand, then stood back up on your feet, albeit wobbly, as he tucked himself back into his dress pants. 

“There is no way in hell I'm going back inside that shit hole.” You said matter of factly and watched as he bent down to pick up your discarded blazer– now lightly dusted with white sand, and tried his best to brush it off. 

“Like hell you aren’t. What am I supposed to tell your dad? That you're busy cleaning my cum off your cute face?” You don't think you could get tired of hearing him call you cute. 

It was like he was trying to cover up for some horrendous crime he’d just committed– fixing his tie, running his fingers through his hair, smoothing his hand over his wrinkled button up. It was quite funny seeing him half panicked yet completely incapable of keeping himself away. 

When you pulled him towards you his collar felt slightly damp in your hands where your fists had grabbed it. You tightened his tie, fixing the dimple in it. His nose barely touched yours. Unable to keep your eyes away from his lips, you brushed your thumb at their corner as you spoke. “Don't tell him that just yet. Wanna be there to see the look on his face when he figures it out.” 

“Jesus Christ” 

His eyes blackened yet again, and you could already see the little urge to press you right back against the wall for the second time. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb and index, letting his cum coat his fingers before he was pressing them into your mouth.  Your lips wrapped around his digits as you obediently sucked, looking up at him the way you had on your knees moments ago. 

“Dirty little girl.” You couldn't tell if he was surprised or in disbelief, whatever the look was it suited him. He draped your blazer over your shoulders, discreetly scanning your surroundings for passersbys. “Now get the fuck outta here” 

“‘Night night Agent Peña, see ya tomorrow..” You pressed your lips against his, letting him taste himself against them and swallow one last whimper when he grabbed your hips. The fabric of your dress crumpled and rode up your thighs impossibly as he squeezed your flesh. He lightly squeezed your ass once more for good measure. 

Unsurprisingly you felt a lot of pride as you walked, rather limped, on the path towards your little villa. Even more so when you turned around to catch Javier, exhausted and distressed, leaning his forehead against the wall he’d just fucked you against. 

The boys, the girls

They all like Carmen

She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes

She laughs like God

Her mind's like a diamond

Audiotune lies

She's still shining

Like lightning, whoa-whoa

White lightning

🍓 Part II

Gonna burn in hell for this one but it was worth it. I hope you lovelies enjoyed. Again this is part one of three so we’ll be getting more of these nasties don’t you worry. Please let me know what you think, your comments mean the world. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work you keep me writing! Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

[notjustjavierpena]

I love checking in on hubby and his family. Is everything going well? Are they doing baby number 4 soon?

Nails (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Just a tiny thing for you, anon. Mwah!

Summary: Father-and-son bonding time brings a surprise. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Allusion to smut, domestic bliss, Lucas is the best boy, wholesome masculinity, javi being a good father makes you horny

Word count: 1k

Nails

The door opens and closes in the entrance hallway as you walk around with Sebastian on your arm in the kitchen, bouncing him gently as he fusses quietly. You turn to look at the clock, realizing that it has been three hours since you sent Lucas and Javier out the door with a mission to get Lucas a new pair of football boots while simultaneously letting them have some father-and-son bonding time. 

Lucas had voiced his disappointment about the lack of time spent alone with his dad when you had tucked him in last week, and thinking back on it, you had quickly realized that it had indeed been too long since Lucas had done something together with his father. So you had made plans to take Sebastian and dropped Inés off at her abuelo’s for the weekend. Tonight, you will cook your son’s favorite food (homemade burgers), watch a movie together as a family (perhaps one that you have said no to him watching in the past), and then he will be allowed to play his video games till much later than usual (even if he’ll continue playing his games underneath his blanket until he passes out).

“In here,” you call out to them, making Sebastian cry briefly until you kiss the top of his head repeatedly. His fingers curl around your hair, and you try not to swear as he tugs. You scold him in a teasing, gentle voice, “That hurts, Mister Grumpypants. Your mamá needs hair on her head, you know.”

When they enter the kitchen, you are untangling your baby’s tiny hand from your hair and making him grab at your blouse instead. You look up with a grin, “Hey you.”

Javier walks up to kiss you before kissing Sebastian’s head too, “Hola, bebito. Y mi amor. (Hello, little baby. And my love)”

“Did you have fun?” You ask, resting Sebastian on your arm to hold out your other hand for Lucas. However, your son hesitates to move across the kitchen floor and it makes you raise a brow. What exactly has happened on their trip?

Javier walks back to Lucas, crouching down to rest his own forehead against his son’s. They share a look, and Javier whispers something you can’t hear. 

“Está bien, mijo (It's okay, my son),” he says softly afterward, turns his body towards you, “Lucas has something he wants to show you.”

“What is it, sweetie?” You shift Sebastian a little more until he sits on your hip. You hold out your hand a little more insistently and finally, Lucas gives in and walks up to you. He places his hand in yours. 

“Lucas wanted to get his nails done,” Javier says after a moment of silence. You look down to see that Lucas’ nails are bright pink and shiny with topcoat nail polish. Your son’s demeanor is flustered. 

“Lucas! These are beautiful,” you say without hesitation, “Look at them! All the boys at soccer practice will be jealous.”

Lucas lights up at the compliment, seemingly not having expected instant support from his mother. You can safely say that you mean every word.

Javier continues, “So we had Lucas’ nails done before the boots. The woman at the shoe shop had a lot to say but I told her to mind her fucking business.”

“Javi!” You exclaim at the swearing. 

“Dad, it was okay,” Lucas reassures, clearly shocked too. He lets go of you to scold his father, “Mom says we can’t say that word.”

“Mom says a lot of things,” he adds with a smirk, “What if I told you that I’ll allow you to say it once tonight?”

“Really?” Lucas looks back at you for confirmation 

“Absolutely not,” you reply with a roll of your eyes at your husband who only grins, “Daddy speaks in tongues. He is in trouble for saying that word.”

“Am I?” Javier suggests something with a glint in his eyes, something that goes over Lucas’ head. He ruffles Lucas’ hair, and the boy immediately tries flattering it again. 

“Did anything else happen?” You ask, letting Sebastian grab at your finger when he starts searching for your hair again. You think he might be hungry soon.

“Well, after that bullsh—“ Javier stops himself as you give him a look, “—nonsense, we went back to the salon and I got my nails done too.”

You spot that Javier has gotten his nails painted red. It suits his skin tone extremely well. Lucas beams beside him and they hold out their hands together. 

“Maybe I’ll forgive you for swearing,” you say, nodding towards their painted nails, “They just look so good.”

“Are you mad at me for getting pink?” Lucas asks suddenly. 

Without a shred of hesitation, you shake your head, “Are you kidding? Pink is one of my favorite colors, baby. It looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you,” he replies shyly. 

“I told you it was the right choice, kiddo, they look fantastic. No one can deny it,” Javier says and places a hand on his boy’s shoulder. Lucas leans into his father’s touch but then jumps as he remembers something.

“Mom! I need to show you my new shoes!” He nearly shouts, excitement bubbling up in his voice. He runs off to get the bag, “They’re blue!”

You don’t manage to answer before he is gone from the room. It makes you seize the opportunity to speak freely with your husband, “Javier F. Peña.”

“Yes, Mrs. Peña?” Javier hums with his mischievous smile. 

“If you don’t put baby number four in me tonight,” you begin, closing the distance between you, “I might go fucking insane.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[billluver0124]

"fulfill your wish"

synopsis: bill has always wanted a child, especially with y/n. will she give him such a blessing and make him a father?

WARNINGS: kissing, mentions of impregnating

A/N : i saw a jjk (jujustu kaisen) fic earlier today similar to this and it inspired me to make this story! i think ill make a pt 2 to this but idk, lemme know in the comments if i should! enjoy mwah!!

it was always bills dream to have a family of his own, it started when he was younger and he would see fathers playing with their children. he always thought to himself "i hope that'll be me someday"

hes 28 now, with a wife of his own. who he loves very much and holds so dear to his entire soul. they've been together for so long and he knows shes the one hes gonna spend the rest of his life with, he would love to have a family with her. they've mentioned it here and there, but hes never really asked her the question. does y/n want children with him?

every time they go out, bill sees a pregnant woman somewhere or a family spending time with each other. he cant help but imagine thats him and y/n. oh how he wishes to be a father..

the desire gets even bigger whenever y/n babysits her niece. her siblings had a child not to long ago and y/n babysits her often, sending bill little pictures of her and the baby while hes at the studio. seeing y/n with a baby makes bills knees go weak. the way her niece sits so naturally on y/ns hip whenever she holds her. its like y/n was born to be a mother, and bill was so willing to make that happen. imagine y/n with bills baby! that's his ultimate dream.

today, bill was at the studio and y/n at home, babysitting her little niece. she was cuddling with the baby when she decides to send bill a cute little text...

{image attachment}

me and the baby miss you liebe <3

i miss you both too, very much. ill be home in 30 <3

okay baby, be safe coming home.

ich liebe dich❤

ich liebe dich auch meine schatzi❤

when bill saw the photo, his heart fluttered immediately. god please make this woman the mother of his child. the desire to make y/n a mother was becoming unbearable. he needed to tell her how he felt. and he will do just that when he gets home.

he unlocks the door to see y/n on the couch. the baby no where to be seen. "wheres the baby liebe?" he asked, "oh her mom picked her up not too long ago" "oh okay" bill said, giving y/n a kiss 'hello' in which she happily returned. after a little while of peaceful but awkward silence, bill speaks again "schatz, can we go to the room?" he asked, gulping nervously "i-i wanna talk about something with you" y/n raised an eyebrow, confused on what he wanted to talk about. "yea w-we can go to the room" they both got up and walked together to the bedroom they shared. y/n sits on the bed as bill closes the door behind him "so what did you want to talk about?" she asked, bill was hesitant to speak at first but he ended up talking anyways "have you ever...wanted a you know..." he got nervous as he spoke, beginning to stutter "a-a family?.."

y/n thought about it for a moment "i mean, yea but i dont know if ill be a good mother.." bills eyes widen "are you kidding me!? youd be an amazing mother schatzi!" bill takes y/n to the bathroom, putting her in front of the mirror "imagine yourself with a little belly, youd look so cute" bill put his hands on her stomach, rubbing it as if she was pregnant. y/n smiled, imagining if she really was pregnant, if she had a little family with bill. she would love for that to happen, but still..what if she isnt good enough to be a mom?

"i still dont know bill, what if im not a good moth-" "schatz, look at me" y/n looks to bills direction, he places his hands on her cheeks. "ive seen the way you are with kids, especially your niece. you take care of them as if they are your own..." he gets on his knees, pressing kisses on y/ns stomach. "i know you will be a good mother, and i promise to be the best father of our kids" y/n smiled, running her fingers through bills hair. "you really think so?" "yes, ever since we started dating i knew i wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. its why i married you, lets start a family together. its what we both wish for right?" bills gets up, wrapping his hands around her waist. pressing lovely kisses on her face.

"do you really think we can do this bill?" y/n asked, still hesitant on the topic. "i know we can, ive been granted my two wishes of being with you and marrying you, may i be blessed with a child from you as my third wish?" bill had the eyes of a puppy when he asked the question. he really wanted this with her.

after a little moment, y/n nods "okay, we can try and start a family" bills eyes light up when he hears her reply, "really? we can?!" y/n giggles at bills reaction

"yes, lets fulfill your wish"

[mononijikayu]

a walk — ryomen sukuna.

As you entered the banquet hall together, the atmosphere shifted subtly. You made sure to settle him beside your uncle, who was seated on your right. Conversations continued, but there were curious glances and speculative whispers. Sukuna's presence alongside you, clearly as your companion and equal, sent a powerful message to everyone present. Your status as heir to the Ryomen clan lent your actions an implicit endorsement, and your obvious confidence in Sukuna, as a new member of your family, your future right hand man, challenged any lingering doubts about his place among them.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language;

masterlist

ashes of love

listen: a walk by baek yerin

note: i wrote this and wanted to publish it early but i fell asleep, so here we are!!! if you want to be tagged for the next chapter, just comment here~ ill make a list and add you in!!! thank you for your support and i hope you enjoy~ mwah~

YOU THOUGHT YOU SHOULD HAVE REFUSED THE SUMMONS. But you supposed that it would be unbecoming of your position as heir to not show up. You stood gracefully before the gathering, your appearance meticulously composed in sharp wonder, which lent an air of solemnity and reverence to the occasion. Your jūnihitoe shone with pride, multiple layers blossoming through with the double heron. The layers of your kimono cascaded in various shades of indigo representing sincerity and integrity, interspersed with lighter hues of wisteria to signify the young life you advocated for within your ancient lineage.

You could see your lord father behind the magnificent byōbu, his dark gaze fixed on you as he sat primly on his shitone. Your uncle, now a father to Sukuna, was just behind your father, enveloped in a solemn silence with his adopted son behind him, head bowed. You think that Sukuna shouldn’t lower his head. A Ryomen shouldn’t. 

Yet you could not blame him. Sukuna knew this gathering was about him. But how could it not be? He was a boy tied to cursed energy, one who had been plagued by a curse himself. And the world was curious, for he was no one but a common boy—a fiend who had stolen and stirred chaos.

It was not uncommon for the Ryomen to welcome new members among their ranks, to bring them into the family and give them a new name. However, giving the Ryomen name to someone bound to a curse was another matter entirely. You did not see it as a significant issue—the curse was dealt with, and Sukuna was free from its clutches. Yet, it still wasn't enough for these people. It was common procedure for the elders to get involved, but it infuriated you that the elders of your own clan had chosen to inform the other clans and involve them in what should have been a private matter.

You looked at your father and bowed.

You turned to the Ryomen elders and bowed.

Then towards the other clan elders, you nod.

“You may speak, Ryomen Hiromi.” Your father says to you, raising his hand. “State your case.”

You purse your lips as you stand still to address the assembly, your voice carrying a calm yet unmistakable edge of frustration. Your uncle snorted, noticing it. "Esteemed elders, and honored guests from the esteemed clans," you began, your dark eyes sweeping across the room. "I understand the concerns that arise upon this matter. However, let us not be swayed by fear of the unknown nor the shadows of the past."

You paused, making sure your words sank into all. "Sukuna was indeed once a fiend, but he was also a victim of circumstances far beyond a child’s control or understanding. The curse that once clouded his fate has been lifted, cleansed by the very traditions and strengths that our clan upholds."

As you concluded your statement, a stern voice cut through the charged atmosphere of the assembly hall. Elder Hoshiko of the Kamo Clan, known for her conservative stance and influential voice among the sea of clan elders, stood up. Her presence commanded attention, her eyes sharp as they fixed on you.

"Lady Hiromi," she began, her tone as cool as the steel of a blade, "Your words paint a hopeful picture, but they also skirt the edges of naivety. Are we to simply forget the chaos this boy wrought before his 'cleansing'? Are we to trust so readily in the efficacy of a ritual that many of us have yet to witness firsthand?"

The room tensed as other elders nodded in agreement, their murmurs filling the space with a wave of skepticism. You think that was a fair comment. None had seen the depth of your own cursed technique for years. No one truly knew the depths of it all, not even you. Your head hurts, that voice whispering once again. But you stood firm. You will not waver; you meet Elder Hoshiko's gaze with a steely one of your own.

"Elder Hoshiko, I respect your concerns," you replied, your voice thick with firm resolve. "Yet, I must challenge the perspective that holds us anchored to fear and doubt. Sukuna's past actions, while regrettable, were influenced by forces he neither understood nor could control. An orphan in the streets has had no guidance. Since his arrival under our care, his behavior has been nothing but exemplary."

Another elder, Takashi of the Ryomen, known for his strategic mind but cautious nature, chimed in, his voice adding weight to Hoshiko's doubts. "But can we risk the safety of our clans on 'exemplary behavior' observed over merely a few moons? What assurances do we have that the curse does not linger or that it cannot be rekindled?"

The tension in the room thickened palpably as Akihiko of the Fujiwara, your great-uncle, made his position clear, aligning himself with the more conservative faction represented by Elder Takashi. His voice, seasoned with years of authority and sharpened by disapproval, filled the room as he addressed you with a stern glare.

“I agree with Elder Takashi,” he declared, his stance rigid and commanding, underscoring the gravity of his objection. The silence that followed his statement was heavy, charged with familial and political implications.

Your mother, ever the astute matriarch of her line, responded not with words but with a haughty smirk, a subtle yet clear indication of her alignment. Her amusement at the discomfort you now faced was thinly veiled, revealing the complex layers of rivalry and allegiance within the clan. This smirk was not merely a mother's reaction; it was a political stance, one that favored her own kin over the progressive ideas you proposed.

Your father’s reaction was swift and sharp. His gaze darted towards his wife, eyes narrowing into a harsh glare that spoke volumes of the internal conflicts that often played out behind the closed doors of their estate. This look was a silent rebuke, a fleeting yet intense display of disagreement with the stance his wife had chosen to publicly support.

Akihiko continued, his tone slightly raised to emphasize his disapproval. “He is an outsider. One who does not know the ways around our world. Is the Ryomen name ever made so lightly that you give it to any random boy you find on the street, Lady Hiromi?”

The challenge hung in the air, direct and formidable, questioning not just your judgment but also the very principles under which you operated. It was an accusation of recklessness, a critique that sought to frame your decision as a dilution of the clan’s esteemed legacy.

You, standing amidst your family and the clan elders, maintain your composure. Your expression was calm, though your eyes were alight with the fire of conviction. You understood that your reply needed to bridge the gap between honoring your clan’s traditions and advocating for the progressive values you believed were essential for their survival and growth.

A glint of purple light echoed in your eyes. When Sukuna saw that, he could feel every fiber of his being scream in the silence. It was terrifying, the way you glared. It was silent, it wasn’t provoking. Rather, it was quiet. The whole room shuddered at the sight. Sukuna did not know what it was. But everyone in the room was silenced immediately. For a moment, he thinks how awe-striking the purple was in his lady’s eyes. Yet, when you closed your eyes and opened them, they turned into hazel summer gazes once more.

“Great-Uncle Akihiko, Elder of the Fujiwara,” you began, your voice steady and respectful, yet imbued with a firmness that matched his challenge. “I understand your concerns, and I do not take them lightly. Sukuna was indeed an outsider, but under the guidance of our clan, he has shown a willingness and a capacity to learn and embrace our ways.”

You paused, ensuring your words were measured and impactful. “The Ryomen name is not given lightly—it is earned, through commitment, learning, and transformation. What I propose is not a hasty grant of our name, but a carefully considered integration of a potential new member who has shown promise. We are not just preserving our past; we are building our future.”

Your response was a blend of deference to the clan’s traditions and a confident assertion of your modern leadership approach. You sought to remind everyone present that the strength of the Ryomen did not merely lie in their exclusivity, but in their ability to adapt and thrive through the inclusion of new strengths and perspectives.

The room fell silent as your words resonated with the assembled family members and elders. Some faces showed contemplation, perhaps reconsidering their initial resistance, while others maintained their skepticism. You knew that convincing them would not be an overnight success but a gradual process requiring patience, diplomacy, and unwavering dedication to your vision.

"Elders, the assurances you seek lie in the very foundations of our practices and the strength of our traditions. Our ancestors built these rites to combat such curses, to cleanse and to renew. Have we become so distrustful of our own heritage that we doubt its power?"

Your challenge was bold, and it hung heavily in the room. You continued, turning to your great–uncle. "Moreover, allowing fear to dictate our actions leads to stagnation. We are not merely guardians of the old ways but also shepherds of potential. Sukuna deserves the chance to prove his transformation—under careful watch, certainly, but he deserves that chance nonetheless."

The rest of the elders started to echo into a symposium of words as they huddled about together. The assembly was silent for a moment, the weight of future decisions palpable in the air. It was the lord of the Gojo Clan—Gojo Suzaku who broke the silence, his voice a calming balm to the heated exchange. His tender eyes gazed at you with a soft smile.

"Lady Hiromi speaks of progression and trust in our ancient rites. Perhaps it is time we consider her words not as a call to blind faith, but as an invitation to demonstrate the resilience and adaptability of our ways. If the boy proves himself under the vigilant eye of the Ryomen, would we not then strengthen the trust in our own traditions?"

His intervention offered a momentary pause in the contention, providing the elders a chance to reflect not just on the risks but on the potential rewards of embracing change. You nodded to Suzaku, grateful for his support and hoping your arguments had sown seeds of courage among your doubts. You appreciate him quite well. From what you heard from your uncle, he refused to send the delegation of elders from his clan without him. It was as though he knew that you would be suffering the ire of his kinfolk.

The room simmers down and the rest whispers like cicadas in the summertime, now considering the broader implications of their decisions. Ryomen Hiromi used this moment to strengthen your position, your voice resonating with conviction. Sukuna looked at the clan leader of the Gojo. He was perhaps your age—no, he’s older than you. He was a tall man, dressed in fine layers of white and blue silks, the crest of the Gojo clan across each layer. His motodori made his handsome features obvious, his clean shaven face.

He did not have their family’s technique. It had not been reborn for multiple generations. But from what Sukuna hears, that does not make lord Gojo any less powerful. Perhaps that’s why you look at him tenderly, with deference. Sukuna knew that jealousy is not a good feeling, it was a negative emotion. A Ryomen did not concern themselves with jealousy, either. Contentment is a Ryomen’s word. Yet, as he smiled at you and you smiled back, Sukuna thinks lord Gojo did not deserve to look at you like that. Nor did he like that you eyed him with deference too.

"Thank you, clan leader Gojo, for your insightful words.” You continued, turning your attention back to the room at large. "Our young Sukuna's integration into our clan isn't just about managing risk—it's about leadership and vision for the future. One that I must lead, as my lord father’s heir. Our traditions are not just relics of the past but living, breathing practices that adapt and overcome contemporary challenges."

You addressed the assembly with a renewed fervor, "We stand at a crossroads where our choices will define not just Sukuna's fate but the identity of our jujutsu world. Will we be known as those who shrank back in the face of adversity, or as pioneers? Are we just not to live in a modern world, because you fear change?”

Several of the elders shifted uncomfortably in their seats, your words challenging them to rethink their initial resistance. You think you have gotten the Kamo. They speak too much of pride for tradition, about being the guardians of the past. Perhaps had the Zenin arrived too, there would be the same reaction on their faces. But you doubt that they would willingly go. They hated that your father had chosen you as his heir above any other man in his household.

But you think you could scarcely care for Zenin at this moment. You basked in the look your father had given you from afar. Your appeal to their legacy and identity struck a chord, particularly with the younger members around them, who were more receptive to the ideas of adaptation and evolution.

Elder Hoshiko, still a formidable figure, softened slightly but maintained her cautious stance. "Lady Hiromi, your passion is evident, and your argument compelling. However, we must proceed with caution. If we are to embrace this path, I propose strict conditions under which the boy's integration is monitored and evaluated at every step."

You nodded, understanding the necessity of compromise. "That is a prudent suggestion, Elder Hoshiko. I welcome oversight and stringent conditions. I am one for rules, after all. If this is what must be, then let us begin somewhere. The clans I’m sure would be more than willing to aid our Ryomen clan in this endeavor. Is it the strength of each other, to contribute to society together, not what must be?”

This proposal seemed to appease the more conservative members of the assembly, providing a structured path forward that included checks and balances. The atmosphere began to shift from overt skepticism to cautious optimism

Elder Takashi, now seeing a structured approach to the situation, added, "Let us then draft a framework for the boy’s observation. This framework will detail behavioral expectations, milestones for assessment, and the consequences of any deviation from the set path. This way, we maintain control while allowing for the possibility of integration."

"Very well, Elder Takashi," you replied, your tone even and composed, betraying none of the frustration that tinged your earlier thoughts. "This will be much discussed with my father. Fear not."

Before another elder could interject with further doubts or concerns, Lord Isamu, your father and the esteemed leader of the Ryomen, rose to his feet. His movement was graceful, yet deliberate, capturing the attention of everyone present. The elder's stature, combined with the authoritative calm of his voice, immediately lent an air of finality to the discussion.

“That it shall be, do not fret, elders, friends,” Lord Isamu announced, his voice resonant, echoing slightly off the high, ornate ceilings of the council chamber. 

As he spoke, he adjusted the sleeve of his kimono, a subtle, almost unconscious motion that nonetheless underscored his next words. The faint rustle of silk against the quiet of the room underscored his presence, as shadows from the flickering light of hanging lanterns played across the fabric, adding a dramatic flair to the moment.

“But all must have trust in my daughter. There is no reason for the child to not grow with such excellence when the pride of the Ryomen teaches him our ways.” Lord Isamu’s gaze swept across the room, each member of the assembly feeling the weight of his look. Then his wife, and then, her uncle. His wife lowered her eyes. He turns back his gaze at Hiromi. It was a reminder of his authority and of his confidence in your capabilities as both a leader and a mentor. “There is no one better than my daughter and my heir.”

His statement was not just a declaration of support for you; it was a directive that echoed his unwavering belief in the principles that had guided the Ryomen for generations. His words sought to remind the elders that the strength of their clan did not merely rest in maintaining old traditions but in their capacity to adapt, to teach, and to grow stronger by integrating new elements into their lineage, guided by the wisdom of their customs.

The room, previously filled with murmurs of concern and skepticism, now fell silent, the elders and other attendees digesting Lord Isamu's words. His endorsement of your judgment effectively sealed the council’s decision, casting it in a new light—not as a concession but as an affirmation of the Ryomen’s resilience and dynamic leadership. And through the dull bureaucracy that had led to more hours of waste, the adjourned assembly agreed, and what had started as a contentious debate moved towards constructive planning.

You felt a cautious relief; while the road ahead would be rigorous and filled with scrutiny, it was a path forward nonetheless. Sukuna would be given his chance under the watchful eyes of the Ryomen elders. Sukuna will do so. He’ll show them. You sighed.

You think you’ll be able to sleep tonight.

‘Do you think that you deserve such a thing?’

That voice says, almost mockingly as you sighed.

The voice was truly right. A god is always right.

“No.” You say under your breath, “I don’t.”

FATHER ANNOUNCED A BANQUET FOR THE GUESTS SOON AFTER. As the elders dispersed, leaving the room echoing with the last murmurs of conversation, you stepped closer to Sukuna. Your uncle sighed at you as you nodded back at him. You smiled down at the younger boy, looking at him as though to reassure him that everything was fine. You brushed your fingers against his hair, a small blush appearing on his cheeks. 

“You just had to antagonize the elders, hm?” he sighed, a slight smile playing at the edges of his mouth despite his words. You stood together in the quiet aftermath of the council meeting, the heavy doors closing softly behind the last of the departing figures.

You met his gaze with a spark of defiance still alight in your eyes, tempered by a hint of mischief. “Uncle, if I didn’t challenge them, who would?” Your voice carried a lightness, but underneath lay a steely resolve. “We can’t always bow to fear and comfort. Sometimes, we need to stir the waters to catch fish.”

Hiramu chuckled softly, shaking his head. “True, but you don’t have to use a spear every time, little niece.” he teased you gently, acknowledging your tactic. “Your father supports you, and that’s no small thing. But remember, these elders are not just obstacles to overcome; they’re resources, allies in the making if you handle them right.”

You nodded, understanding the wisdom in his advice. “I know, uncle. I do value their counsel and their experience. But sometimes, it feels like they’re more interested in preserving their own peace than in what’s best for the clan. I want to push them to see beyond their immediate concerns.”

Hiramu placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “And you will, Hiromi. Just remember that it’s not always about pushing. Sometimes, it’s about guiding, showing them the path and letting them walk it with you. You have a vision for the Ryomen that’s bold and inclusive, and it’s exactly what we need. But bring them along with you. You’ll need them on your side as you lead.”

The last of the daylight filtered through the high windows, casting long patterns on the floor that flickered as lanterns were lit in preparation for the evening’s banquet. The moment of solitude between you was a rare pause in the rhythm of your responsibilities.

“Come,” Hiramu finally said, breaking the contemplative silence as he gestured toward the hall where the banquet was being prepared. “Let’s join the others. Show them your resolve pairs with your grace. Tonight, let them see the leader you are becoming, not just the challenges you pose.”

You nodded at your uncle, understanding his encouragement and the wisdom behind his gentle urging. However, as Hiramu turned to move towards the bustling banquet hall, your gaze drifted away, settling on the young boy who was the subject of much of today's discourse—Sukuna. Your eyes lingered on him, seeing not just a boy shadowed by past misdeeds and complex curses but a burgeoning emblem of your leadership and the clan's potential for inclusivity and change.

Sukuna stood slightly apart, his posture betraying a blend of apprehension and curiosity about the evening's events. The noise and light from the banquet seemed to beckon him, yet also hold him at bay, emblematic of his current place at the fringes of the Ryomen clan. He did not know what to do, you think. He does not know how to belong after not belonging for so long.

Your uncle noticed your hesitation and followed your gaze. With a sigh, he understood the silent conversation passing between you. Your responsibilities as the heir—and your personal commitment to Sukuna's integration and acceptance—were pulling you in a different direction than the rest of the clan members joyously heading towards the banquet.

Hiramu gave a slight nod, a gesture laden with both resignation and respect for your dedication. "Go on, little niece," he said softly, his voice carrying a fatherly warmth. "He needs you more than I do right now."

With that, Hiramu turned and proceeded alone, his figure gradually merging with the others, disappearing into the light and laughter of the banquet hall. Left in the quieter, shadowed part of the corridor, you took a deep breath and approached Sukuna, your steps measured and your demeanor composed yet inviting.

As you neared, Sukuna looked up, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and surprise to see you approaching. "Everyone's going to the banquet," he remarked quietly, an underlying question in his tone about his place in this new world.

You smiled gently, reaching out to lightly touch his arm in reassurance. "They are, and we will join them, but first, let's talk for a moment. Let’s take a walk.”

Sukuna purses his lips in a line and nods slowly. “Yes, my lady.”

You snicker. “You and your formality, Sukuna. Are we not alone?”

“But—”

“This is all new to you, I understand that and it's important to me that you feel part of this, truly part of it," you explained, your voice low and soothing. “But do not risk discomfort. You don’t have to be so formal all the time.”

“.....Yes, Hiromi–sama.”

You sheepishly sigh but it was a start. 

He would learn in time to be comfortable.

Perhaps it's just not the time just yet.

Your decision to delay joining the festivities was a clear indication of your priorities. For you, leadership was not just about making decisions from afar or addressing the clan from a position of authority; it was about being present and supportive, about making sure that each member of your future clan, especially one as vulnerable as Sukuna, felt valued and included. And more so, you did not want him to be overwhelmed. He had never been a part of this sort of world before. What sort of leader would you be if you were not thinking of his comfort?

Together, you would later join the banquet, but this moment—quiet, away from the prying eyes and ears of the clan and the jujutsu world—was crucial. It was an opportunity to strengthen a bond, to build trust, and to reaffirm your commitment not just to the traditions of the Ryomen clan but to the individuals who formed its heart. To give him a chance to be a young one first, before a man. Soon enough, in a few years, he would not have such moments to himself anymore. He needed this. No one deserves to be deprived of their youths, after all.

"Sukuna," you began, your voice soft yet imbued with a strength meant to fortify him, "I hope that you raise your head. A Ryomen does not bow his head. Today was important, not just for you but for all of us. You've been given a rare opportunity, one that comes with great challenges, but I believe in you. I wouldn’t have stood up there if I didn’t."

Sukuna looked up at you, his previous resolve mingling with a trace of vulnerability. "Hiromi–sama, I... I'm not sure I can be what they want me to be. What if I fail?"

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Failure is a part of growing, a part of learning. Remember, perfection isn't what we're striving for; it's growth, understanding, and integration into a family that values strength through trials. I have grown from my failures too.”

Your words seemed to slowly seep into Sukuna, easing the tension that had knotted his features. It’s as if he had not known you to be one of failure either. But Sukuna thinks of you as his god. There were no flaws in gods. And he had to live up to that. "But they see me as a risk, a potential threat. How do I change that? What can I do to make sure I stay by your side, Hiromi-sama?”

As you paused, something in the moonlit night seemed to transform you. Sukuna watched, captivated and slightly bewildered, as subtle changes manifested before him. It was as if the serene glow of the moon drew out a deeper magic from within you—a magic that seemed inherent to the legacy of the Ryomen clan. Your eyes flickered with a mysterious purple light, briefly illuminating the darkness with their ethereal glow. 

Your hair caught the moon’s silver rays, turning shades lighter until it mirrored the lustrous sheen of moonlight itself. The transformation was subtle yet profound, marking you not just as a scion of your clan but as something more, something almost otherworldly. 

As the days turned into weeks, Sukuna's understanding of you deepened, and his nocturnal observations revealed more than the daily interactions could. There were nights when, wandering the silent halls of the shiden, he would find himself drawn towards the quiet tsuridono, where you often retreated. 

At first, these encounters seemed mere coincidences—chance moments when your paths crossed under the silver glow of the moon. But as these nights multiplied, Sukuna began to understand: you, the ever-composed heir of the Ryomen clan, battled with your own hidden struggles. One you refuse to talk about. One that you refuse to expose to the world. The vulnerability of the heir is the vulnerability of the clan, after all.

The servants whispered among themselves, voices low but filled with concern, that you rarely succumbed to sleep. Some even murmured that you did not sleep at all, plagued by nightmares too profound and terrifying for others to fathom. Yet in his presence, you never showed any sign of this nocturnal torment. To Sukuna, you were always the pillar of strength and grace, your smile unwavering, your demeanor unflinchingly positive.

But he knew. He had heard enough, seen enough in the shadows under your eyes when you thought no one was looking, to understand that your vigils were not by choice. The nightmares that haunted you were a burden you carried silently, a stark contrast to the serene facade you presented to the world.

Sukuna, who had once been considered a monster himself, felt a poignant connection in these moments. Standing by your side under the luminous canopy of the moon, he felt an unspoken bond form between you. It was in these quiet hours, away from the eyes of the clan and the weight of your roles, that he felt he could offer you something invaluable—respite from your unseen demons.

In the peaceful solitude of the tsuridono, with only the whispers of the night and the soft rustling of leaves as their company, Sukuna would speak softly, telling you tales of the world outside the clan’s domain or simply sharing his thoughts on the mundane aspects of daily life. Anything to distract you, to pull your thoughts from the clutches of your nightmares.

Sometimes, he believed, his presence did rob you of those nightmares. Maybe, just maybe, the monster he thought he was could be the guardian he aspired to become. Under the watchful eyes of the moon, your features would relax, the tension easing, your breaths becoming more measured and calm. In those moments, Sukuna felt a profound sense of purpose, far from the destructive path he had once walked.

Sukuna could only gaze at you in awe each and every time. To him, you embodied the very essence of beauty and power that his previous life had taught him to fear but now urged him to revere. The Ryomen shiden-zukuri, known for their formidable marvel, of its wondrous magic and spiritual depth, were indeed a marvel of the world, yet none seemed as wondrous as Ryomen Hiromi at that moment. Doubt clouded his mind—was he worthy of such attention, of your kindness, or even your presence?

His internal turmoil must have shown on his face, for your expression softened as you looked at him, your magical display subsiding as you returned to the warm and reassuring figure he had come to know. With a tender smile that seemed to calm his racing heart, you reached out, your touch gentle and reassuring.

“You don’t need any excuse to be by my side, Sukuna,” you told him softly, your voice as soothing as the night breeze. “You are one of us now. You do not ever have to leave.”

Your words, simple yet profound, pierced through the fog of his insecurities. They were an affirmation, a welcome, a promise of belonging that Sukuna had never dared to hope for. Your acceptance served as a powerful antidote to his self-doubt, reinforcing the fledgling sense of identity he was just beginning to explore under your guidance.

"Still, to your question, you change perceptions not by hiding your past but by owning your future actions," you responded with a determined nod. "Show them who you are becoming, not who you were. Every day gives you a chance to write a new page. And remember, you are not alone in this. I am here, uncle is here, and we will support you through every step, every stumble."

Sukuna's eyes, reflecting a mix of reassurance and residual fear, met your steady gaze. "And what if the elders are right? What if I am too much of a risk?"

You smiled warmly, squeezing his shoulder. "Then we take it as a challenge, Sukuna. We work harder, learn more, and prove them wrong together. You are part of this clan now, and that means something. You have the Ryomen blood of resilience and courage starting to flow in you, even if not by birth, by choice and by bond."

You had always refused to say ‘you’ to him for moons now. You always say ‘we’. You always made sure he was not alone.  That he would not face the world alone. Perhaps, it was true—how the heart only beats for the gods, like those monks at the temple say in their sermons. 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Sukuna's mouth, the first genuine one since the meeting began. "I don't know if I deserve this chance, Hiromi–sama."

"Deserving isn't something that’s always given, Sukuna. Often, it’s something you take upon yourself to prove," you countered, standing up and offering him a hand to rise as well. "Let’s start this journey, shall we? Step by step, day by day. You're not just proving it to them; you're proving it to yourself."

As they walked back towards the gathering, Sukuna felt lighter, bolstered by your faith in him. The road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but the promise of becoming more than his past defined was a compelling beacon. With you by his side, the journey seemed not just necessary, but hopeful.

As they approached the warmly lit banquet hall, the sound of laughter and conversation spilling out into the night, Sukuna took a moment to look over at you. Your confidence in him, your unwavering support—it didn't just make him feel accepted; it made him feel expected, like his presence was something to be celebrated rather than merely tolerated.

"Thank you, Hiromi–sama," Sukuna said, his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and resolve. "For believing in me, when not many would. For letting me be with you.”

You smiled, your eyes reflecting the flickering lights of the banquet hall. "We all deserve a chance to prove ourselves, Sukuna. And sometimes, we need someone else to see that potential in us before we can see it in ourselves."

“I realize these things because of you, Hiromi–sama.” He says shyly, looking down at his feet. “That’s why I’m thankful.”

“Then I should thank you too, Sukuna.”

He looked confused. “For what, Hiromi–sama?”

“For taking a walk with me,” you said, your words floating softly in the cool air. “I know that it was quite a lecture, this walk. But I must thank you still. For the company, for the peace. It was the best walk I’ve had in a while.”

Your tone carried an earnestness that made Sukuna glance at you, noting the genuine smile that touched your lips and the relaxed ease in your posture that you rarely saw during formal clan gatherings. It was as though the walk had not only distanced them from the physical space of the banquet but also from the roles they habitually played within the clan. Here, under the canopy of stars and the gentle rustle of leaves, they were simply two individuals sharing a moment of tranquility.

Sukuna’s response was thoughtful, touched by the sincerity of your gratitude. “Hiromi–sama, I should be the one thanking you,” he admitted, his voice low. “Not just for the walk, but for everything today. For standing by me, for bringing me into your world and treating me as more than just…..” 

He hesitated, searching for the right words, aware of how much you had put on the line by supporting him so publicly. “It means a lot to me, more than I can properly express. This walk, this evening—it’s more than just a pleasant time. Everything. Everything is more than anything to me. It’s a symbol, I think, of a new beginning. Of being seen for who I could be, not just who I was.”

You stopped and turned to face him fully, your expression softening further under the moonlight. “Sukuna, seeing potential in others is easy. Helping them see it in themselves, that’s the true challenge. And you’re rising to it beautifully. You are now the pride of our clan, too.” You reached out, your hand lightly touching his arm in a gesture of camaraderie and reassurance. “This walk, these talks, they’re as much for me as they are for you. We all need reminders that we’re not alone, that change is possible and worth striving for.”

Resuming your walk, you continued in companionable silence for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts about the day’s events and the future that lay ahead. The pathway wound through the meticulously maintained garden, past flowering shrubs and under arching trees, their leaves whispering secrets to the night wind.

“As for the lecture,” you added with a playful smile, turning to look at Sukuna again, “consider it part of the learning process. We both have much to learn, after all. And I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather learn with.”

Your words, light yet laden with truth, struck a chord with Sukuna. He smiled, realizing how much this journey with you was transforming him. Not just in how others saw him, but in how he saw himself. The night might be drawing to a close, but for Sukuna, it felt as though his true journey was just beginning—with you by his side, the path seemed not only clear but inviting.

The pathway meandered gently, lit sporadically by lanterns that cast a warm glow and stretched their shadows long and thin across the ground. As you walked, a comfortable silence settled between you, filled only by the natural sounds of the night—the soft chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of a breeze through the leaves. It was a peaceful backdrop that allowed both you and Sukuna to reflect on the transformation each was undergoing.

Finally, Sukuna broke the silence, his voice thoughtful. "Hiromi–sama, before today, I often felt like I was looking at a road mapped out by someone else's hand. But now, walking this path with you, it’s like I’m seeing the horizon for the first time on my terms. It’s liberating and daunting all at once.”

You listened, your expression one of understanding. "It's a journey that many fear to start, Sukuna. The road to self-discovery is never straightforward or free of obstacles. But you’re not just on any path—you’re on one that you are helping to pave. Every step forward you take, you're laying down your own stones."

As you reached a small bridge that arched over a tranquil koi pond, you paused, leaning on the rail to look down at the slow-moving fish gliding under the moonlight. The scene was picturesque, almost too perfectly serene, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had often marked Sukuna’s past experiences.

You continued, your voice soft but firm. "Remember, change isn't just about leaving behind who you were; it’s about moving toward who you want to be. And you have everyone in the clan, especially me, rooting for your success. We believe in you, Sukuna, not just for what you can offer us, but for who you can become.”

The affirmation brought a genuine smile to Sukuna’s face. "Thank you, Hiromi–sama It's hard to believe sometimes, that I have found a place not just to stay, but to belong. And to think that I can contribute, that I can be part of something bigger—it gives me hope.”

You turned from the pond, continuing your walk back towards the house. The moon was high, casting a silver light that seemed to guide your way. You glanced at Sukuna, your gaze assessing yet kind. "And that hope is what will drive you through the darkest times. Just as the moon guides us tonight, let your hopes guide you when the path seems unclear."

Sukuna nodded, absorbing your words. The concept of hope as a guiding light was powerful, and he felt its truth resonate deeply within him. As you approached the residence, the sounds of the night began to give way to the soft murmur of voices from inside, signaling your return to the world you had temporarily left behind.

As you reached the door, you stopped and faced Sukuna once more. "This walk may end here, but our journey together is far from over. Remember, step by step, day by day."

With a final reassuring smile, you opened the door, stepping back into the light and warmth of the clan home, a symbol of the community you were both a part of. Sukuna followed, feeling not just like a guest being led, but like a member walking alongside his equals. Each step was a step forward, and with your support, he was ready to face whatever the future held.

As you entered the banquet hall together, the atmosphere shifted subtly. You made sure to settle him beside your uncle, who was seated on your right. Conversations continued, but there were curious glances and speculative whispers. Sukuna's presence alongside you, clearly as your companion and equal, sent a powerful message to everyone present. Your status as heir to the Ryomen clan lent your actions an implicit endorsement, and your obvious confidence in Sukuna, as a new member of your family, your future right hand man, challenged any lingering doubts about his place among them.

Throughout the evening, you made sure to introduce Sukuna not just as a newcomer but as a valued member of the clan. You shared stories of his progress and his efforts to integrate and contribute, framing his past as a testament to his resilience and his future as a promise of his potential. With each interaction, Sukuna felt the weight of his old identity—the cursed, the outcast—shedding away, layer by layer.

"It's not going to be easy," you whispered to him as you paused by the grand window overlooking the clan's ancestral grounds. "Change never is. But every step you take is a step forward. Remember, you're not alone in this."

As he stood there, beside you, Sukuna felt a newfound fortitude. The doubts that had once clouded his vision began to dissipate, replaced by a resolve that was anchored by the support and belief you showed in him. With you by his side, guiding him with wisdom born of experience and a deep understanding of the very traditions he was learning to navigate, Sukuna found himself not just ready but eager to meet the expectations laid before him.

The notion of earning acceptance in a world that had once seemed wholly alien to him no longer appeared so formidable. Instead, it beckoned as a worthy challenge, an opportunity to prove his worth and carve out a place where he truly belonged. Your assurance that every step was a progression made him view each day not as a burden but as a building block towards a larger goal—a mosaic of efforts that would collectively shape his destiny within the clan.

Your presence—a constant reminder of strength, perseverance, and the potential to overcome adversity—instilled in him a courage that he hadn't known he possessed. It was this shared strength that transformed his perspective, making what once felt like distant dreams now seem within tangible reach.

The moon above, a silent witness to his inner transformation, cast a silver glow that seemed to light up the path at his feet. It was as if nature itself conspired to remind him of the luminous journey ahead. The cool breeze, whispering through the trees, carried with it a sense of anticipation and the sweet scent of the gardens below, reinforcing the sense of renewal and growth.

Ryomen Sukuna feels his heart beat.

He doesn't think he'll ever forget this feeling.

And he never truly did, not even as years passed.

Ryomen HIromi was all he'll ever love in humanity.

And he'll always go back to this night, this walk.

facts about the story !

hiromi at this point was sixteen - seventeen; sukuna is only three - four years younger.

her father, isamu and her mother, akiko, have been estranged for many years, more so because she's supporting her family, the fujiwara and their ambitions.

hiramu has always maintained her will never be a good husband, so he never really sought it out despite his brother arranging for him to meet eligible ladies.

the ryomen adoption system requires a sponsor - hiromi is sukuna's sponsor and that's why she speaks for him. however, someone else has to be give him his name. hiromi convinced her uncle to do it and he agreed. this changed during genmei's time, they can now be both.

sukuna still hasn't adapted to the ryomen way of life. the ryomen clan is the strictest in way of life. they wake up before dusk and do all their training, tasks and work before it gets dark. they immediately sleep after dinner.

hiromi doesn't sleep very well, but her reverse cursed technique aids in that. still sukuna is always too concerned about her that he insists to the medicine wing that she needs the best stress relief tea. the medicine wing became endeared by him for his devotion to hiromi over time.

sukuna is technically now the fourth heir of the ryomen, being adopted as a son into the main line. in the future, because of sukuna, the ruling line of the family can no longer adopt anyone, to prevent usurpations.

suzaku gojo has known hiromi since they were children, and is very fond of her. he was very good friends with hiromi's elder brother, akimu - who he sparred and rode horses with as a young boy.

the elders of the ryomen are very conservative too, but because isamu has all the power, they can't step on what he does or what hiromi does as often as they would like. inviting the other clan elders is another choice to make hiromi's life hard.

[iloveboysinred]

HIIIIII it's me againe 🏃‍♀️, how are you?? I hope you are doing well and that you are having a good day !!!

I was wondering would it be possible to write a very very very very very sad angst voltron x fem reader (would it be possible to make it a keith x reader, I'm so sorry very time it's him, you can make it for a different character I'd you like 💓💓).

Thank you everytime for making such amazing stories, I literally LOVE READING THEM ALL

MWAH MWAH MWA 💋💋💋

Hiiii always good to receive an ask from you! and thank you for requesting. I love writing these for you and anybody that reads them! MWAAAAAH <33333

Remember me like this [ Keith Kogane]

Keith Kogane x fem reader

synopsis; You had always been there for Keith, as a friend and a shoulder to cry on. What Keith didn't know, was that you had always wanted to be more. When Keith disappears, you're forced to move on. Only for your heart to break all over again when he returns, a war hero and seemingly forgetting all about you.

cw; angst, one sided love, pining, heartbreak ;( Keith being a dick for forgetting about you (so ooc Keith cause we all know he would never) character death!! Lots of curse words, no happy ending, no comfort

For @iamasimpfor2dcharachers 💗

masterlist

When you had heard about the 3 garrison cadets who had broken in to rescue Shiro, a senior pilot who had been sent on the Kerberos mission, you'd immediately guessed Keith was involved. Having been the closest thing to a friend when he had still been enrolled in the Galaxy garrison, you knew the nature of his relationship with Shiro.

He'd confided in you many times about his home life. He's told you about how he's never known his mother, about the death of his father, and how Shiro had taken him in when he was just a pre-teen, guiding him and raising him as his own. You and Keith had slowly grown close, you understood his frustrations, and his seemingly endless anger at the world. You had gotten to know him better, you'd seen the real fragile, broken boy underneath his hot-head "loner" facade. Many times you were by his side, comforting him through the night, holding him close as he wept. Naturally, you had began to develop feelings for the boy, working hard to attempt at healing his bleeding heart. You'd never utter a word of your feelings to him though, knowing that he didn't feel the same way. "He has so much going on already... he shouldn't have to worry about my feelings too", you'd tell yourself, trying to sooth the aching in your heart every time you find yourself leaning towards him, your lips craving the feel of his own.

Keith was a complex person, it was hard to read how he was feeling if he didn't want to let you in. You'd learned that early enough when you met him on the first day of piloting school. "Hey, my name's y/n. I see you're training to be a fighter pilot, me too! I've heard about how great you are from Griffin" you chirped, reaching a hand out to shake his, "I wouldn't take him seriously, he complains so much about you it sounds like he's jealous. I would take that as a compliment. What's your name?" Keith eyed your outstretched hand skeptically, turning his gaze away from you with a scoff. "Keith." he muttered nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. You smiled, grabbing his gloved hand out of his intertwined arms, shaking it fervently. "Nice to meet you, Keith. I hope we'll become friends. Welcome to the team!" Keith stared at you with slightly widened eyes before snatching his hand back and walking away without another word. "Tough cookie to crack.." you thought to yourself amusedly.

From that day on you'd made a point to talk to Keith every day. You complimented his piloting, asked about his day, his favorite things to do in his free time. He never spoke much in the first few weeks of you knowing him, giving you one word answers or grunts in response to your pestering attempt to gain his friendship. "What do you want now, y/n" Keith grumbled as you sat next to him at lunch. He had just come back from suspension after getting in a fist fight with your classmate, James Griffin. It was obvious he wasn't in the best of moods. But he never really was, so it didn't phase you. "I just wanted to tell you that James totally deserved that punch." Keith shot you a surprised look, watching as you nonchalantly unpacked your lunchbox. "He's such a douche. I'm surprised nobody's rocked his shit earlier. I'm sorry for what he said about you." you mumbled over a bite of your sandwich, offering him the other half, seeing as he lacked a lunch box of his own. He shyly took it, taking a small bite out of the corner. You smiled to yourself, eating in silence beside each other.

From that day forward, you got more than a few words out of Keith. You began to visit him at home, bringing with you homemade lunches and board games. You'd truly began to blossom a friendship, telling each other everything, sharing lunches, always in each other's company. It was rare to see Keith without you by his side. He had brought you over to meet Shiro, explaining that he was his only parent figure in his life after his father's passing and his mother's early disappearance in his life. You'd began to bond over your trauma, confiding in him about your strict, loveless household, and him to you about his loneliness and his subconscious need for a family he could belong to.

You still remember your shock when he had dropped out of the Garrison, not too long after Shiro's disappearance. You spent months defending his name, ripping a new one to whoever spoke ill of your best friend. You still visited him often, now his home being the only place you really saw him. You'd bring him food and other necessities, knowing he wasn't taking care of himself besides taking showers and sleeping.

Everyday since the break in, you'd come looking for him at his desert home, and everyday you'd find it empty. Nobody knew where the cadets had gone, searching the premises and the miles surrounding in an attempt to find the fugitives. Eventually, the searching stopped and with it, your daily visits to his abandoned home. You've accepted that Keith was lost, but your aching heart never truly stopped longing for his return. You knew he was out there, somewhere you couldn't see.

After a year, you'd graduated from piloting school, now an official fighter pilot for the galaxy garrison. You'd stood rigid as they handed you your uniform after the ceremony. It felt like something was missing, and you knew that something was Keith. Your accomplishment felt bittersweet. Sure, you had graduated at the top of your class, but that was surely only because Keith had dropped out. Everyone knew Keith was the best pilot on your team, and it didn't sit well with you how you had filled in his place. You brushed the thoughts off, you needed to move on. Keith was gone and you needed to resume your life, just as you had before you met him.

So, you'd continued your life as a garrison pilot. Training new cadets, and doing daily drills in garrison space vessels. Your life was fulfilling you suppose, but you never felt more alone. You'd skipped lunches with the other pilots, opting to eat by yourself in your room, you barley even spoke to anybody, only responding when spoken to or when given an order. As hard as you tried to enjoy life, nothing was the same anymore.

Obviously, the universe had a weird way of working things. When the Galra attacked earth, defeated by the infamous paladins of Voltron, your heart skipped a beat when you'd seen him in the cafeteria. His hair had gotten longer, he looked older, which didn't surprise you, it had been years since you'd last seen him. He had a jarring scar going from his cheek and coming to a sharp point right by his eye, and you wondered briefly what trouble he had gotten in.

You felt all the old emotions rushing back to you, but you also felt angry at him. He had left without so much as a goodbye, and here he was, being praised and awarded without sparing you so much as a single glance. He didn't know the pain he had caused you, and he certainly didn't seem to care. You marched right up to him, eyes glistening with tears you refused to let fall. "So that's what you've been doing these last few years, you ASSHOLE!" you hissed, showing your face up to his, standing nose to nose with the taller man. Keith looked at you, bewildered and seemingly not knowing who the fuck you were. You stared into his eyes, confusion clouding his, anger pain and..love swimming in yours. "What are you talking about...do I even know you!?" he snapped back, getting over his initial shock and shoving you backwards. Keith didn’t recognize the grown ass woman yelling at him, but something felt familiar about you, the way you cussed him out, the furious glint in your eye. He knew he had seen you before, but where? He stared at you hard, trying to get his brain to connect the dots. "Oh so you don't remember me now? it's been fucking years since you left and now you don't know who I am? you're a real class act, Keith. I can't fucking believe you right now..." your words had begun to get shaky, the tears becoming almost too much to hold back. "I guess you were too busy parading around space in a fucking robot lion to even have a second thought about me!" by now a crowd was forming, but you didn't care. You were gonna get this off your chest, no matter how people looked at you afterwards.

"What, you got amnesia now? you left me here, you dick! you didn't even say goodbye, did our friendship mean nothing to you-" "What the fuck are you even talking about right now?!" you can tell he was agitated both from your confrontation and the unwanted attention from bystanders. "What am I talking about? I'm talking about how I used to be the only one there for you! you were my only friend and you left Keith. You left without a care and now you don't even know who I am." you let your tears free fall, your pain deepening at the utter look of cluelessness on his face. "y/n, that's enough. back off." you whipped around to see Iverson, who had broken up the crowd and now fixed you with a stern look. You sniffled and shot Keith one last furious look. Brushing past Iverson when you whipped around and stormed off.

“Y/n…?” Keith whispered, his eyes wide in disbelief. How could he be so stupid? Of course it was you! He felt his breath leave his lungs as he watched your retreating form. He flinched when Lance slapped his hand over his shoulder, pulling him into his side and grinning ear to ear. “Wow Keith, i didnt know you had the ladies down for you like that! I must’ve really rubbed off on you, huh? “ “Oh fuck off, Lance!” Keith snapped, shoving him off, speed walking in direction you had gone. But you were nowhere to be found, and Keith felt guilt settle in his stomach.

From that day Keith only saw you in passing. It was like you never even knew he was there. Every time you scoffed at him when he tried to talk to you he felt his chest tighten. He tried every way he knew how to try and get you to talk to him again, expressing his remorse by leaving you homemade lunches at your door in the mornings, to trying to pair up with you during flight drills. But you ignored him every time. It was messing with him, but he knew he deserved it. He deserved every cold glance, every shoulder bump you'd purposely given him when you walked past. But that fact hurt him even more.

But then, he found you in the cafeteria, sitting by yourself and picking at your lunch. He let out a breath to ready himself, walking over to you. You gave him a quick glance before looking back down at your lunch box, debating if you should leave. “Y/n I-“ “what do you want Keith? Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” You snapped, slamming your fork down on the metal table. Keith’s lips pursed in a line, feeling his frustration, hot and bubbling over. “I wanted to say i’m sorry, I-I didn’t recognize you… you looked different!” He tried to explain, but you didn’t care. It sounded like a whole bunch of excuses to you. “Okay, you didn’t recognize me.” You gritted out, refusing to look at him, staring down at your clenched fists on the table. “You didnt recognize me, because you left, Keith! You left and didnt even think to say goodbye. I had to finish flight school without you. I had to deal with all the bullshit you left behind, without YOU. Now you show up after disappearing and everyone throws you a fucking parade. What about me, huh? You were so caught up in your own shit you forgot all about me. I was there for you, I LOVED YOU!” You yelled, whipping around to face him. “I loved you ever since we were 16.. and you didn’t have a clue cause all you cared about was your problems and yourself! So yeah, i dont want to hear apologies, i actually never want to see your stupid fucking face, ever. again.” You seethed, grabbing your lunch and storming off, leaving Keith broken and speechless.

Then, it happened. During a flight drill your space vessel had malfunctioned, crashing into the ground from your high position in the sky. Alarms bleared throughout the base, officers and pilots rushing out to see the catastrophe. Keith shoved people aside, barging to the front of the crowd. He had rushed to the scene after conversing with Admiral Sanda, when a trainee had come in to relay the news. He fell to his knees when his eyes fell on your broken body, being hauled out of the space vessel, now destroyed and smoking behind you. Keith's body felt frozen to the ground as the medics hauled you through the crowd. Everything was moving in slow motion, the crowd dispersing and conversing amongst themselves in shock. His heart felt like it was beating once per minute. He looked around but he couldn’t see, the smoke causing his vision to blur and his lungs to burn. He had to get up, he had to look for you.

Tears welled in his eyes when he had found you in the med bay, your breaths faint and getting weaker by second. If he couldn’t recognize you then, he definitely couldn’t now. There you lay, in a hospital gown with bandages covering the entirety of your body. Your face bruised and bloody. He sat down beside you, holding your stiff hand in his. Your skin felt cold, the life inside you rapidly fading. He had known your condition before he came, the nurses telling him that you were a lost cause, that they did everything they could to help you pass comfortably. But grief still brewed in his heart, it's iron grip making it hard to breathe as he stared at your closed eyelids. "I'm so sorry, y/n" he whispered, bringing your cold hand to his lips. "I should've brought you with me, I never forgot you, i never stopped loving you. Don’t go, please, Not like this." his whimpers escalated, sobs racking his body as leaned over to hug you, at least remaining careful enough to not move you too much. "You're my best friend... I never even got the chance to tell you..I-i love you. Forgive me. Please." but his pleading fell on deaf ears. The only sound in the room being the continuous beep of a flatlined heart monitor, and his sobs. A part of him died with you that night, and he knew that he would never forgive himself.

hope you enjoyed, this made me a little sad ;( sorry if it was mid, I'm not used to writing angst. notes and reblogs are appreciated, comments, asks, submissions are welcomed!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Just want to say, I really love your yandere family! They all seem so sweet lajdkal

Ah! Thank you! I'm so glad!

I've been meaning to make more content for them

So here's a little something

🖤🖤🖤

How Sweet They Are | Yandere Family

Remalda

To Everyone else: Is as sweet as she needs to be. How can she be anything other than that when she’s going for mayor? But what’s underneath the sweet smiles and friendly disposition is a spiteful woman with a violent string of thoughts.

“Miss Remalda! If you weren’t married I’d propose to you!”

“Awww that’s so sweet! But I’m very happy in my marriage!”

‘If you had found me 14 years earlier I would have skinned you for even thinking you could replace my love with yourself. Disgusting Pig!’

To You: She’s sweeter than sugar. Anything you ask for you can have even if it comes with detriment to someone else. She just can’t resist it when you look up at her with those adorable (e/c) eyes. It's just too much! Too perfect! That’s her beloved baby alright!

“Awww you reached so nicely for it, you can have all the cake you want!”

“Mom! They can’t even digest solid food!”

“But they asked so adorably how can i refuse?*Mwah*”

Spencer 

To Everyone else: He’s as cordial as he needs to be. He’s been keeping people at a distance for quite a long time so this is nothing new. He doesn’t often waste any time thinking about those he meets or what he can do for them because he’s too busy thinking about his own family. 

“Thank you for your patronage.”

“You’re really pretty for a man in your work!”

“Hmmm.”

‘Did I leave the dishwasher running? If I did (Y/n)’s sippy cup should be in there. That’ll be good. Oh, and Yulia has a skating competition this week…’

He’s so disconnected sometimes he forgets the...consequences that spring from his own actions or lack thereof.

“So darling who was that tramp?”

“What tramp?”

To You: He tries to be as sweet as any parent should be. Your chubby body, your gleeful squeals, and your tiny grip on him–are always reminders to him about how much he cherishes you. He’s aware that Remalda is inclined to spoil you and he doubts that will ever change so he has to take initiative and be the adult. But he didn’t have to worry about it now, not when you were so young and it was normal anyway to act on your whims. You have no other way to communicate so it's okay!

“Baby, be careful waving that toy in the air! You might hit a bird!”

You’ll babble and ultimately end up flinging the toy in the air wacking a bird off its perch.

“Oh s-dear! Okay okay, you can have it back just don’t do that again. Okay?”

Michael 

To Everyone Else: Only if you pay for it. He’s a businessman after all and he doesn’t get the results he does by being “sweet.” He’ll make his peers pay a fee if they want to see his pearly whites and even then it's never the real thing. It’s safe to say he takes after his Mother and Father when it comes to being sweet…it covers his real thoughts that are either completely unrelated or especially violent.

“Geez Michael you could’ve at least acted like you care! I’m paying for the experience, right?”

“You right, I don’t care. But if you want the experience with a friendly disposition you’ll have to pay the fee.” 

“What!? Seriously this is a lot more than I imagined…”

‘Of course I do I need to have enough to support my baby and little sister…I wonder if I would get more if I just stabbed him.’

To You: He’s sweet t in the way that he always holds you with care and reprimands your wrong-doings. While he’s not too different from his father he still feels like it's his duty to ‘properly raise you’. He thinks-no he knows you're the precious baby that needs his loving hand to guide you in this messed up family. And since you're his sweet baby he will be the sweetest to you and Yulia.

“Alright (Y/n)...give me your hand.”

“(Y/n). (Y/n), listen to big brother. Give me your hand.”

He’s trying his hardest to be sweet with you, it's not typically in his nature to choose kindness over violence but he tries. He loves you after all so he’s willing to try anything to see your gummy smile and hear the bells of your laughter.

“Good job, (Y/n). Next, you’ll have to learn to give me one of your toys.”

Yulia

To Everyone Else: Of course, she is sweet to everyone! Why not be? Everyone’s usually so nice to her–always complimenting her ice skating and how good of a big sister she is. Sometimes when she talks to those who know her brother they seemed surprised she is so nice. 

“Huh, Michael? Oh well, he’s quite curt but I wouldn’t say he’s mean.”

So where her beloved brother slips up she carries the weight, hoping to dissuade others from building too much aggression towards him. Because she knows him and he’s the kindest big brother; yes, he may mysteriously be ridding her of any and all problems she speaks about.

“Threatened you? He’s just…doing his own thing. Yeah, sorry about that…”

To You: Yes! Why wouldn’t she?! Her darling baby sibling is just so cute and when Michael’s busy and the parents are fighting+ you always seem to reach out for her. Always seem to remember her. So she gives you kisses and risks her mother’s wrath to sneak into your nursery for a sleepover.

“Come on (Y/n), how about we stay up and I tell you all about everything1”

[lefthandedhotch]

linnn!!! hi🥰 i love you smek smek smek smooch smooch mwah mwah mwah MWAH!!! it's almost fathers day <3 and i am thinking so! hard! about single mom reader (when am i not?🤭) 🥰🥰🥰

you bring her over the next workday after the fathers day weekend which is fine because it's mostly paperwork and emailing consultations to precincts everywhere... over the weekend your baby girl worked so! hard! on father's day cards for all the father figures in her life aka all her bau uncles🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰 but!!! one card that is a little different from the rest is the one she's giving to your boss, aaronnnn hotchner🥰🥰, who you have a biggg ole crush on and it's definitely not subtle at all🤭 but neither is the crush he has on YOU and you two have smooched like twice in the heat of the moment when jack and your little girl have had sleepovers, but nothing's been made official (yet👀)..... your little girl crawls into his lap and you MELT when he kisses her head so softly🥺🥺🥺 and she tells him "happy fathers day, mr. aawon :3 thank you for being so amazing :D" and you almost WEEP!!! because for rossi, derek and spence, she said happy uncles day🤭 and it makes you so happy that she sees him as her dad because he's such a good one to jack and you're so lucky to have him be a father figure to your little baby🥺🥺🥺 he melts and holds her so close as he reads her little card and looks at the gift she got him and he gets all misty eyed and tucks her head under his chin so she doesnt see him blinking away the tears🥺 but he makes eye contact with your watery eyes and you two dont have to say a single word to each other to know that now you two are very ready to be official and be much more permanent in each others lives and your kiddos lives🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞💞

hehehe hiiiiiiiii jess-jess!! i love youuuuu smooch smooch smek mwah smek smek mwah!!!!🥰💕🥹💗🥺👋☺️ WEEPS single mom!reader my beloved!!!!!!

while you and your girl are on the elevator going up to the office, you smile down at her as she clutches her little pile of cards soooooo close so she doesn’t lose them and you can help but remember her parked at the coffee table the day before with her bucket of markers being So Serious as she colored these very special cards for all her bau uncles and aaron like >:p 🤭🤭🤭🥰🥰🥰 and when you take her around the bullpen so she can pass out her little cards and say things like “happy uncles day, uncle dewek!! ☺️” it just makes you so so grateful to be raising your little girl around so much love, which is amplified even more when you help her climb the stairs to aaron’s office so she can deliver this extra special card and you get to see just how much this man that you’ve fallen so completely head over heels for cares for your baby girl 🥺🥺🥺🥺 penelope of course comes teetering in on her sparkly heels and sees Sparks flying between you and aaron and all the loaded loving gazes you’re giving one another, so she holds out her hand to your little girl and says they’re gonna go color at your desk for a little bit so you and aaron can Talk (and smooooooooch, she very much hopes 🤭🤭) hehehehe and the second your daughter is out of the room, aaron is out of his chair and stroking your cheek as you whisper “thank you for being so good with her” and he gives you that little quirk of a smile before he hums “thank you for being so you” and lowers his mouth to yours in the sweetest, softest smooch that makes your head spin with how lovely it is 🥹🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕💕💕 you guys make a plan to make dinner together that night and have a glass of wine and a Serious Conversation after your kiddos fall asleep about everything and you can just feel it in your bones that this is the start of Everything you’ve ever wanted 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💗💗💗💗💗💗🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕🥹🥹🥹🥹

[vampykween]

HI MICCC :3 hope you are well!! i’ve been brainrotting about ur singledad!simon and here’s a list of scenarios nd thoughts that’s been plaguing my mind

what if poppy got into a fight at school? the fight was short because you pulled them apart almost instantly - but she still got her hair pulled and a scratch on her cheek, and poppy knows from simon that fighting isn’t the best option, but when simon answers your call and hears poppy’s crying in the background, how would he react!!

the way kids like to overshare and have no filter, i can see poppy casually telling you stuff like “yeah my daddy has no friends” or “daddy doesn’t talk much”.. and then when simon comes to pick her up, maybe you two have a small convo and you accidentally slip up and mention what poppy’s told you about him.. then he looks and poppy and you like 🤨what else did you hear..

Oklfldldg how does simon do father daughter nights! is he the type to play competitively in games with her or does he always let her win? does he like taking her out to eat or does he prefer cooking at home :3

AAAA okay last one i promise:3 how do the other kids react to poppy’s behemoth of a dad? are they scared? do they think he’s a mafia boss of some sort? or do they find him incredibly awesome and think he’s a giant from those action movies

(ofc u don’t have to do all of them if u don’t want to OR if u don’t want to spoil anything for the series, just some thoughts! take ur time<3)

hi bby! i am very well right now actually and this made things even better, i could kiss your brain truly mwah <3

i will be saving these ideas because this gave me much needed inspiration and motivation for this series. also sorry if i didnt go as in depth with these, but the longer they sat in my drafts i realized i was never going to remember to finish oops! also i hope you dont mind i will be stealing the oversharing poppy idea if fits perfectly with what i have going for part 3 hehe

✴︎ I feel like simon would be fuming, at whom he’s not even sure. I imagine that some kid said something rude and snarky to her and she couldn’t take it anymore and popped on them, and you’re shocked because poppy is normally such a sweet little girl. Simon would definitely hug poppy close because seeing his baby hurt cuts like a knife, takes her out for ice cream and then chides her because omg! has she lost her mind fighting at school, but also he’s a tiny bit proud she’s a fighter like him. 

✴︎No because Poppy would most definitely do this, in her head she’s just rattling off mundane things about her father, but you’re sporting a frown because there’s a tiny part of you that hates the idea of Simon being alone with just poppy. Not that it’s any of your business though (you would definitely have to remind yourself of that).

Simon is groaning at his daughter’s perceptive nature and how willing she is to share every thought she has. When you waved him over to where you were during school pick up, Simon was praying something bad hadn't happened.  “Mr. Riley, err Simon, sorry.” you correct yourself quickly at the raised eyebrow look he gives you. “Is everything okay… like at home?” you’re mentally face palming at the way you blurted out the very intrusive question. You sense his shock by the question by the almost imperceptible widening of his eyes. “Why-” he looks down at Poppy who’s swinging her tiny hand in his, not paying any attention to the conversation you two are having, “What did she say to you?” You wring your hands nervously, the older man’s deadpan stare makes  you feel like you’re in trouble for some reason. “Poppy mentioned to me that you don't have any friends or talk much to anybody. I don't mean to pry, really I swear. Kids will tell you anything, i'm sure you know. After what happened with the family tree thing and-” You're cut off by Simon’s large hand settling on your shoulder, clearly an attempt to calm you down and halt your rambling, but it has the opposite effect and all you can think about is how enormous his hands are and the weight of it grasping you.  “No need to apologize, Poppy talks my ear off about you. I’d be surprised if she didn’t talk to you about things. And you don't need to worry about me, luv. Im fine being alone, i've got my little petal and that’s enough f’me.” There’s an aura of wistfulness in his words, that makes you want to push him for a more truthful answer, but you chide yourself at your thoughts. You barely know this man. Whatever longing you think is in his voice may as well be a projection of your own sadness; a failed long term relationship will do that to a person. 

✴︎Definitely loves to play games but does not let Poppy win because he wants her to learn how to lose and be okay with it. (You would applaud this btw, this is every teachers’ dream. Trust me on that). Their father-daughter nights also will be movie nights with as many sweets as poppy desires because Simon won't bend to anything but her little puppy dog eyes. I feel like even though he’s not the best cook ever Simon would go out of his way to cook Poppy’s favorites for her. Especially like on a saturday morning and wakes her up with breakfast in bed because why not spoil his little girl if he can. 

✴︎I think it's a mix of both really. I imagine Poppy goes to some nice fancy school because why not lol. And some of Poppy's classmates have snooty rich parents who turn their noses up at Simon so their kids are kinda wary of him too. I think Poppy would hype up her dad so much at recess time. Telling stories of how he used to be a ‘super cool soldier’ and all the other kids would be staring in awe like omg your dad is so cool, my dad just does people’s taxes lol.

[butchdiaz]

fuck it friday

tagged by @alyxmastershipper​ @anxieteandbiscuits​ mwah mwah mwah and because u asked so nicely sami here’s some more fleabag au (ft. buckley family trauma). yes it is still the dinner scene. the dinner scene never ends.

“You know, this ceremony means so much to us, the real chance for a fresh start,” Margaret drones on, “That’s why we came all the way out here, so we could be sure you could both make it, our lovely children.” She glances at Buck on the way to aiming a big smile at Maddie. Hot Priest coughs, ever so quietly. Buck’s eyebrows raise. “And speaking of, all we want is your presence. No gifts please.” Buck’s eyebrows are touching his hairline now. He’s never known his mother to turn down an opportunity for whittling gifts or services out of people, especially her own family. There must be something she wants.

“Do you want to know what gift I’m giving your father, though?” 

And here we go. Oh god. 

“It’s a portrait!” 

Oh god. 

“Of you two!”

“Oh god,” Maddie whispers out loud and then forces her face into a pleasantly neutral expression. Buck meets her eyes in a panic. 

“Do you mean together, or…” Buck trails off. He and Maddie haven’t talked in a year, and Buck is operating on the assumption that Maddie is fucking pissed at him. He doesn’t want to think about the tension of sitting still for hours on end in a room with each other and their mother. 

“I only need a couple of sittings,” Margaret says, like they’ve already agreed to doing this.

“Can’t you use photos?” Maddie asks. God, despite the circumstances, Buck forgot how much he misses being a united front against their parents.

“Mmm,” Margaret purses her lips, “The lighting is never good enough. And I barely have any photos of you together, only as children and –” She cuts herself off abruptly and then takes a deep breath, regaining her composure, “And that just won’t do,” she says resolutely, downing her wine. 

Buck and Maddie make eye contact, a shared understanding. Their childhood photo – yes, photo, singular – “just won’t do” because it was taken a month after Buck was born, a week after the bone marrow transplant, when they thought it would stick. Buck is swaddled in Philip’s arms, holding onto a little Maddie’s pinky finger. Margaret is sitting in the porch rocking chair, three year-old Daniel smiling on her lap. Buck’s only seen it once, when he had a little too much whisky and climbed in through his parent’s window at two am to go snooping through their office. His parent’s have no idea he knows it exists. 

Daniel died a week after that photo was taken. His parents never took another picture of Buck again.

tagging @911onabc @bucks118 @try-set-me-on-fire @roy-kents if y’all wanna share anything!

[dualcastimpact]

dawntrail impressions pt. x

In this installment: breaking a death flag and some realisations come to being.

Spoilers under the cut, as always:

Hunmu Rruk's gotten himself kidnapped right after confessing the truth of Wuk Lamat's parentage to Raginmar. Not that it's not a compelling drama angle, but the sheer pacing from Hunmu Rruk spilling his heart out to then immediately getting kidnapped is really way too fast, there's almost no impact to the revelation. It's just there to set up Bakool Ja Ja's scheme.

Wuk Lamat: "Come on, then! You want a fight? I'll give you a fight!"

Said scheme mainly revolves around pressuring Wuk Lamat into a one-on-one fight with her birth father's life on the line and without the assistance of the singular most powerful combat force in her entourage: the Warrior of Light.

Obviously, since Wuk Lamat is a shōnen manga protagonist in the most obviously trope-y JRPG in recent memory, there's no way she'd lose even without the Warrior of Light.

———

What will you say? > Cowards don't stand a chance against Wuk Lamat. > You should back down before you get hurt. > Don't worry—the scary adventurer won't try anything funny.

I personally love how unconcerned Raginmar looks in this shot, paired with his unbothered, nonchalant response to Bakool Ja Ja's taunting. Also any shot where he's got his arms crossed and showing off his biceps and forearms is really just (chef's kiss) mwah, this game is so good to me.

Also he just looks unconcerned; if you think he's not keeping an eye on Hunmu Rruk to make sure he's unharmed via some arcane means you've got another think coming.

———

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "You think this weakling could hurt me!?"

The emphasis on me instead of weakling is really rather interesting; it shows that his disdain towards Wuk Lamat is secondary towards his ego. He cares more about the slight against him instead of insulting Wuk Lamat.

That said Raginmar did not have to stand with his hip cocked to one side like that, that is just plain disrespect, unbelievable, how dare he—

———

In this battle, you will play as Wuk Lamat.

Oh heck yeah! I love it when we get to play battles as other characters! I still remember how excited I got during post-Stormblood when the in-game messages went from "In this battle, you will play as Hien" to "In this battle, you will play as Raginmar Steelbiter"—just seeing his name on-screen like that like he's part of the cast was so satisfying.

———

Hoobigo Guardian: "We'll release the hostage."

Raginmar's figured as much since he's secretly keeping an eye on them, but I have to be honest: I was expecting some kind of betrayal from them. I really wasn't expecting this particular drama to be resolved so quickly, I was expecting some more treachery or tragedy or death.

Was this sideplot even necessary?

———

Hunmu Rruk: "I—Ah, but to single-handedly defeat Bakool Ja Ja! You truly are the Dawnservant's daughter."

Hunmu Rruk: "It has been my honor to bear witness to your journey, Promise."

Oh no, he's forcibly enforcing distance between them...

———

Wuk Lamat: "Promise... Yes, that's what I am."

Wuk Lamat: "I'm Gulool Ja Ja's daughter, and Tuliyollal's next Dawnservant!"

Hunmu Rruk's said it himself, she's destined to lead more than just the Xbr'aal. She's been raised as the Dawnservant's daughter all her life, I get where they're coming from, but also it kinda... sucks? Like they're just going to dismiss that possible bond between them? Hunmu Rruk's just going to watch her from afar, even after explicitly still thinking of her as his daughter after years?

That's some bullshit, honestly.

———

Erenville: "The twins ran me from one end of the Ut'ohmu Horizon to the other, asking about everything of remote interest along the way..."

Suffer. Time to deal with the younger siblings you never had.

———

Koana: "Our nation is built upon the bonds that Father forged during his journey across Tural."

Koana: "But so single-minded have I been in my advocacy of foreign innovations...that I failed to understand my own people."

ABOUT FUCKING TIME.

I don't care how clichéd this is, so long as I don't have to deal with his stupid insistence that tradition is bad and useless and the sun shines out Sharlayan's ass, I'm good.

———

Thancred: "Let them see you for who you really are. What makes you laugh and cry and rage. That sort of honesty is the first step towards mutual understanding and connection."

What, the kind of honesty none of you showed Raginmar during his first few years with the Scions?

———

Thancred: "You said you wished to use the knowledge you acquired in Sharlayan for your country—and in doing so repay your father for the opportunities he afforded you."

Sounds familiar eh, Thancred?

———

Thancred: "What won me over was not your ambition, but your motivation."

Thancred: "So let your people know this. And in time, they'll come to support you as we do."

Thancred: "You can't hide behind that stoicism forever."

First of all, you can absolutely hide behind a stoicism forever—Raginmar did just fine. Koana's just too green behind the ears to warrant that stoicism. He has no experience behind that stoicism, that's his problem.

Second of all, I like how Koana has his mentor moment with Thancred, arguably the most dad-like amongst the Scions. To be fair it's more to set up the plot twist(?) later on but it's nice to see the Scions not be completely useless.

———

Alisaie: "Come to think of it, isn't it Bakool Ja Ja's home? We can only hope its residences don't share his winning personality."

We're headed to the Ja Tiika Heartland next and oh, don't worry, Alisaie—they're worse.

———

Alphinaud: "If it is indeed the city where Ketenramm first met the Dawnservant, surely some civility awaits us."

Hunmu Rruk: "I would not be so certain."

First of all, calling Mamook a city is a tad generous. Second of all... well, you'll see.

———

Wuk Lamat: "Thank you for everything, Hunmu Rruk. Till next time, take care!"

Hunmu Rruk: "How you have grown indeed..."

I don't know what I'm meant to feel here. Am I meant to feel sad, that Hunmu Rruk's forced to watch his daughter walk away and hope she understands how proud he is of her without him ever having the chance (or the right) to make that apparent? Am I supposed to feel touched, that he's making this sacrifice for the greater good? Like I said, that whole conflict with his secretly being her father and having to pretend that they're not connected in any way so Wuk Lamat could focus on continuing and protecting the Dawnservant's legacy felt so rushed and so... unimportant, I don't really see any point to it. Maybe it'll be an important plot point later on, I don't know, but so far I just think this part specifically was rather badly done, and had little to no impact on me as the player.

[melis-writes]

well sINCE YOU MENTIONED IT melis (beloved) i want to reiterate how much i loved that drabble you wrote for michael and wanted to see if you'd be interested in writing another one like oh, i dunno, what's going through michael's mind at the end of the first godfather movie during his interaction with kaye and the moment he officially becomes the godfather 👀👀👀 as always i love your writing, your gifs, and i hope u have a splendid evening mWAH 🦁💕

Lion, my beloved!! 🥺💕 Ah yes, let me get into the thoughts of that sexy, evil man once again as he becomes Don this time… Poor Kay witnessing him enter demon mode like that. 💀

Don Corleone.

“Oh, thank God,” Kay murmurs in Michael’s shoulder, embracing her husband. “Looks like we both need a drink, huh?”

Michael rubs up and down Kay’s back gently to soothe her, gazing at his wife solemnly. “Everything’s fine, Kay.”

Kay smiles shyly at Michael as she pulls away from the hug, nodding and turning around to step out of her husband’s office and bring in some refreshments and at least calm everyone’s nerves from all the stress of moving and now Connie’s emotional breakdown which has Kay shaken up.

Michael leans against his office desk, resting his hands over the rim of the desk as he watches his wife—completely fooled, naïve and still under the belief her husband would never come to personally harm someone—leave appearing relieved and relaxed.

Just across from Michael’s office in the hallway is a cabinet set of fine china and silverware holding a variety of aged red wine, whisky and gin; all commonly served to Michael’s men and business partners.

Kay places two clean glasses over a brass tray along with a bottle of whiskey, but it’s the sound of footsteps coming towards Michael’s office that distracts her and causes her to look up.

Kay blinks, watching as Clemenza, Tessio and Al Neri enter Michael’s office as if they’re completely expected to at this very moment judging from the expectant look upon Michael’s face.

Kay pauses, slowing her movements as she and Michael only make temporary eye contact once more for a brief moment before Michael’s attention diverts to Tessio and Clemenza by his side.

Michael’s eyes harden as he remains quiet, allowing Clemenza to raise his hand and humbly low his head, saying, “Don Corleone,” before kissing Michael’s ring.

Tessio also avoids making direct eye contact with Michael, remaining quiet next to Clemenza and keeping his head and gaze low out of respect.

Completely aware his wife is watching him from the hallway, Michael easily blurs Kay out of his mind and environment as he nods at his men, accepting his title rightfully earned, stepping into what his father assumed of Michael but never wanted for him, and taking newfound power and reputation.

It’s not the fact that it’s the Don’s youngest son that came to succeed him would become worthwhile, surprising news to the heads of the other families, but rather everything that Michael believes in, values, strengthens and feeds that will show his enemies, rivals and business partners that the Corleone family will never be the same again.

Michael will not the passive man his father was. He’s prepared to make promises only to make them, follow out on threats immediately or years later to intimidate and spread fear.

Never will Michael kneel to anyone or feel the need to make decisions to undermine his family for the sake of someone else’s.

Michael will break his father’s empire down to build it up again from his cunning and wit. He has no interest in allies or forcing respect; the families will learn to fear him or they’ll be eliminated entirely.

Every move Michael will plan out will be calculated, strategic and unexpected. Where his patience continues, others will become frustrated and fed up, but Michael refuses to relent.

Michael will not give in, and rather than expose potential family weaknesses, he’ll get rid of them permanently. Michael will live by no code that others do not abide by. If it means another war, then so be it.

Michael has never taken issues with bad blood; he knows its not from his family, he knows he does not share the same disgrace the other Dons do.

With everlasting respect to his father and the way Vito Corleone built his reputation, power, lifestyle and family, Michael knows it is no longer respected nor accepted by others.

Compassion and thoughtfulness have no room left in this business expected by bloodthirsty men ready to turn the knife in anyone’s back.

Michael could care less for their reasons; nobody will undermine the Corleone family ever again.

Kay swallows hard, looking upon the face of the man she loves and gave birth to two children for only now he appears like a stranger to her, standing for all the things she’s against.

Kay feels a tugging ache in her heart she can’t explain towards Michael, almost as if she’s witnessing her own husband give away his soul to the very things Michael made Kay feel so safe and secure about; things he promised he would never get into.

The lies are only the beginning.

[zaenight]

Crazy but she's mine ch7

Ez woke up hearing soft voices , drawers opening and closing.

"Illiana you look fine stop stressing!" A voice exclaimed.

"I can't stop stressing!" The teen exclaimed not so quietly.

"Ezekiel tell her she looks fine , I know your awake!" Jackie said snatching the pillow out from under his head.

"es demasiado pronto para esta mierda nena." Ez groaned.

(it's too fucking early for this shit babe.)

"Don't give me that shit , you decided to adopt a teen with a woman you barely know, so goddamnit your gonna help me with her issues , tell her she looks fine!" Jackie said wacking him with the pillow.

"You look fine kid , there can I sleep now?" Ez said raising a brow.

"I have a date and I need to be ready , Ez You didn't even look!" Illiana exclaimed.

"A date?, your like twelve , I'll grab my gun." Ez said raising a brow.

"Im sixteen asshole!, also Natalia is a girl , Fuck it I look fine ! You guys shouldn't worry atleast I won't get pregnant." Illiana exclaimed rushing out.

"Debería haberlo visto venir, ella y Gilly discutieron todo el día ayer sobre quién era más sexy, Jennifer Lopez o Selena Gomez." Ez said, noticing that the woman infront of him was in a robe with No bra on.

(Should've seen that coming , her and Gilly argued all day yesterday about who was hotter , Jennifer Lopez , Or Selena gomez)

"Quit staring!, i know my boobs look good, its must suck cause your never gonna see em'." Jackie said wacking him.

"My kitchen better be spotless Ezekiel, SPOTLESS!" Jackie said wagging her finger at him.

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

"That was amazing!" Natalia exclaimed.

Illiana laughed as the two walked out of the cinema.

"Im mean it was like WAM! and she was like BONK!" The girl exclaimed wrapping an arm around Illiana.

"It was amazing , Just like you." Illiana winked as a raindrop fell from the sky.

"Oh my god are we gonna kiss , in the rain , a rain kiss , am -" Natalia was cutoff by a soft kiss.

"I got a rain kiss!" Natalia exclaimed as rain poured down.

"Yes you did." Illiana laughed as Natalia cheered at the sky.

----------

"You two kissed in the rain!" Jackie exclaimed laughing.

"Ye-" Illiana was cut off as the boys came into the house, Ez kissing Jackie on her temple.

Which prompted Jackie to wack him , a common occerance in this household.

"Anyways! We kissed in the rain, it was like BAM! magic and rainbows." Jackie exclaimed standing on the counter.

"Who kissed who , do we need to get our guns , your like twelve." Hank said as Illiana let out an offended noise.

"One im sixteen, Two she is mwah, as in amazing , and I put the moves on her." Illiana said.

"I fucking knew it!, Pay up Gilly I told you she wasn't straight." creeper said.

"Fuck thats fifty bucks!" He exclaimed.

"I'll take that!" Illiana said snatching the dollar rushing to her room cackling.

"My Kids a fucking f-" Bishop started untill Jackie pushed him.

"Finish that fucking sentence, finish it bitch I dare you!,and she's my damn kid,Mine,not yours,your no father,not to her,you don't get to start acting like one , not unless she wants to bond with you , but untill then, you have no right to judge,so go on finish that fucking sentence bitch!" Jackie said starting to rant.

"Camilia,Bishop I think you guys better go,except Angel who's staying on the couch.

The guys dragged him out , Angel coughing awkwardly.

"Imma just- Y'know ." He said going to the living room.

"Camila-" Ez started until she growled.

"I've told you he wasn't welcomed here, the others yes,but not him, what if Illiana was down here Ez,She doesn't need any of his shit!" Jackie exclaimed.

"Hey,Hey!,I know I should've asked you first,It was on short notice-" Ez started.

"Club shit stays in the Club,Ezekiel,Fuck we sound like a damn married couple!" Jackie exclaimed wacking him.

"Ow!,your the one always starting arguments!" Ez said as he grabbed her wrist.

"Because you always cause the issues,now if you excuse me , Im going to have a nice bath,and Angel better not snore,you can here everything in this damn house!" She exclaimed.

"Damn." Ez murmered as he heard a beer bottle open.

"What?" Angel said sipping on his beer.

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

As Jackie was about to enter her room, arms wrapped around her waist.

Illiana had small smile on her face.

"You heard all of that didn't you?" Jackie questioned.

"Like you said,You can hear everything in this damn house." Illiana laughed.

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

[shawty-writes-a-little]

Fights with Robb stark would include [HC]

Pairing: Robb stark x reader

An: I have no idea if people still read robb fics but I had this sudden urge to write for him at 3:30 so yes-

Robb would usually be the one to start it-he could get unnecessarily petty sometimes

It won’t usually turn into something big but the small fights did have its constant bickering

Yes and Robb is definitely the one to give silent treatments

“Are you still pretending to not hear me?”

“I’ve apologised already, Robb!”

Obviously the stubborn stark won’t ever give up that easily

“Gods-Alright you can be as upset as you like all by yourself! I’m going to sleep in Arya’s chambers tonight”

Or maybe he did have some loose ends that made him give up easily

“—No no no my Apologies please stay”

Sansa and Arya ALWAYS taking your side

Both of them fully entitled to make sure y/n’s not the one to apologise first

And of course Arya with her creative attempts

“We can still fill his pillow covers wi—”

“-We’re not filling his pillow covers with horse dung Arya”

If any fight lasted for a few days then Ned and Cat would’ve to interfere to make things subtle again

Just like the girls Lord stark too was a bit partial on Y/n’s side

Even if it was your fault

“We haven’t married you into y/n’s house so you can pick fights at her”

“Your father is right I will not have my son yell at my flower of a daughter in law like a mad dog-might as well just marry you to grey wind”

Poor Robb no one ever took his side mostly other than Theon

MAKE UP SEX! ANGRY SEX! JEALOUS SEX!

If the argument between the pair ever got heated and y/n would start tearing up

He would immediately wrap his arms around her

Whatever the reason of the fight might have been seeing y/n cry was the last thing he’d want

Him feeling guilty for days if he’d raised his voice

Getting you your flowers to make up for it

Snuggling back into your shared bed after you fall asleep if you ever made him sleep in another chamber

—

AAAAAAA THATS ALL sorry if this one sucks it’s like 4 am for me-please tell me your thoughts on this mwah have a nice day

Let me know if you wanted to be added to robb fics <333