#cause I thought that was what I was “supposed” to be doing

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your complexion is flushed and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep. 

#roommate!james potter #shy!reader #roommate!james potter x shy!reader #james potter au #james potter #james potter x shy!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter sickfic #james potter hurt/comfort #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders x reader #marauders au

[erwinsvow]

rafe looks even cuter when he's asleep.

you don't know how the thought has never crossed your mind up until now—it's so alarmingly obvious to you right now. you stare—a bit stalkerish, even for you—but that doesn't deter you at all. you watch his chest rise and fall with each breath, the way he's completely crazy, sleeping firm on his back with one arm on your waist and the other tucked behind his head.

maybe rafe seems even cuter just because he's escaping all the stress of his real life right now—firmly asleep with hopefully nothing but nice dreams about you. and as much as you try to avoid it, you are the primary cause of all of rafe's stress. he worries about you from dawn to dusk, even when you try to convince him there's nothing to be worried about.

it's become something of a habit for him—taking care of you, making sure you're okay, even when he's not around. and you—well, you've gotten quite reliant on it. on him. you're not positive—but you think rafe likes it.

even now, on the verge of waking him up because you can't sleep, you hope he doesn't get mad. it doesn't stop you though.

"rafe," you whisper, pushing his arm softly, and then a little harder. "rafe. rafe."

he groans, eyes still shut. the third push has him blinking, staring up at the ceiling and getting his bearings.

"what time is it?" he slurs, clearly still half-asleep. "still dark, kid, go back to bed-"

"i can't sleep," you say a little too quickly, your restlessness presenting itself quite clearly. "please. i don't know why. i'm scared."

rafe closes his eyes, but then opens again, no matter how hard it is to stay awake right now. he sits up a little, propping his back against his headboard. when he turns to look at you, he doesn't feel so tired anymore.

you look really awake, like you haven't had an ounce of rest since the two of you went to bed hours ago. fiddling with the straps of your nightgown, you look up at him the way you always do—like rafe can solve any one of your problems in a minute.

and he likes it. rafe doesn't even try and hide it anymore—he loves it and loves that about you.

"what're you scared of, huh?" he asks, voice still thick with sleep. you breath in and out, trying to figure out how to explain.

"i dunno. i just am."

"okay," rafe says quietly. he closes his eyes for a few moments and then opens again. your lips curl into a pout automatically—you feel bad for waking him up. "how can i help?"

"i don't know that either. i just want to feel close to you."

"m'right here, kid-" rafe extends an arm around you, bringing you into his chest. you curl up against him like you always do, breathing in the scent of his skin and the warmth from where his hand rubs your back. but it's still not enough.

"i want to be even closer," you murmur, feeling a little more tired but not nearly enough to actually fall asleep.

"how d'you suppose i do that, hm?" you look up at your boyfriend—cuter still with his eyes closed like this.

"can't you just.." feeling surprisingly bold—probably from how wired yet exhausted you currently are—you sneak a hand over rafe's pajama shots, pressing your hand down until-

"jesus, kid. gimme some warning, huh-"

"what? you said you're 'never too tired for that', remember?"

"well, i lied. c'mon baby, just go to bed, i'll fuck you first thing in the morning."

"hmpf," you scoff, turning around and taking much of rafe's comforter with you. you don't have to see rafe to know what's going on—he's rolling his eyes and sitting up, probably has his head in his hands for a moment.

"jesus, kid. you're gonna kill me. c'mere," rafe says, turning you back around to face him with just one hand. your body flops next to him, staring up at rafe, seeing what he'll do next.

"we don't have to do it," you finally say, watching rafe move around in the sheets for a few moments. "can't you just... put it inside?"

"sure i can. c'mon," he says, and you climb onto rafe's lap as swiftly as you can. it doesn't take much—he slides up your nightie with one hand and pulls down his shorts with the other. you feel rafe prodding at your tight hole when he grabs at your tits, letting the skirt of your sleepwear fall back down.

"you just said-" rafe cuts you off.

"still gotta wake him up, remember?" you roll your eyes but they end up rolling all the way back. rafe slides in quickly—you almost fall onto his chest at the feeling.

incredibly full, realizing this is exactly what you needed, you let yourself curl back up against him. rafe's saying something quietly to you, one of his hands firm on your ass and the other on your back, but you can't even hear him.

"thank you rafey," you murmur, interrupting him without even realizing. "this is what i needed." rafe presses a kiss to your hair and you fall asleep before you even hear him whisper back.

#i love them #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 01

ღ pairing professor geto x law student reader

ღ summary this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

ღ important this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting right after chapter twelve. while it can be read as a standalone, reading the original story first will give you a better understanding of the characters and story.

ღ wc 10.3 k

ღ warnings 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, fwb, smoking, mature themes, angst, and depictions of illness (will update as the story progresses). reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hey friends !!! i'm so thrilled to share this new story with you, even though i said i wouldn't write two stories at the same time (oops!). this chapter covers mostly chapter twelve of symptoms and causes from suguru's pov, then introduces our new reader protagonist. if you haven't read the original story, some dynamics might be confusing initially, but i hope you'll get the hang of it. remember, you're the law reader here. at the start, there's a different reader (the protagonist from symptoms and causes). i'll note at the beginning of each scene to clarify. now, i'm so excited to hear your thoughts !! reblogs and comments are love <33

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

(note: s&c reader)

"You okay?" I asked, cutting through the tense quiet of the operating room.

Her eyes snapped to mine, the usual focus returning. "I'm fine," she said, gaze drifting away as a small frown creased her brow. "Sorry."

I watched her for a moment longer, unable to tear my eyes away. The soft curve of her cheek, the tender worry in her eyes — a painful reminder of what I could never have.

I wondered what she was thinking about. What occupied her mind like this. What could distract her from a surgery she normally loved with her whole being. But deep down, I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

The familiar ache in my chest tightened as I steadied my hands, focusing back on the aneurysm pulsating beneath my fingertips. The world shrunk down to the surgical field, the beeping monitor and harsh lights fading away. Just me, her, and the delicate dance of our hands.

"Want to continue?"

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "You want me to clip it?"

"It's a gift," I replied.

"Gift? From who?"

I merely arched an eyebrow.

I didn't really need to say it aloud, did I? She knew.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her gloved hands. I could see her biting her lip, even beneath the mask. Doubt clouded her eyes, a flicker of insecurity that I rarely saw.

Stupid girl. 

Of course you can do it. You've done it before. Don't lose your focus now.

"And because I trust you," I added, my voice softening. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

Her focus snapped back to the exposed aneurysm with an almost palpable intensity. Her jaw set. "Okay," she said simply.

There she was. That's the woman I knew.

I moved to stand just behind her shoulder, close enough to monitor her every movement yet giving her the space she needed to work. She slid seamlessly into position at the microscope, her hands sure as they picked up the instruments.

"Focus," I whispered. "You've got this."

Watching her work was a bittersweet torture.

Her hands moved with a grace and precision that belied the complexity of the procedure, each movement precise yet unhurried. She was brilliant — a natural talent with an instinct few could match.

Except, perhaps, one person.

As she prepared to guide the clip into place around the bulging aneurysm, I couldn't help but feel proud. She was incredible and she didn't even seem to realize it.

"Do you ever think I'm... reckless?"

Her question, barely a whisper, caught me off guard.

I flinched, gaze snapping to study her profile. Her hands didn't falter, her focus unwavering. But I could see the question linger in her eyes.

Why would she ask that? Had Satoru put that doubt in her mind?

"Should I be worried that you're pondering this while inches deep in someone's brain?"

"Forget it," she muttered. "Just a fleeting thought."

With a small, dull click, the clip snapped shut. She had done it, and flawlessly at that. 

As I knew she would.

I let out a slow breath, not realizing until that moment how tightly wound with tension I had been. No matter how routine, those high-stakes seconds before clipping always gripped me.

"Well done," I said, watching the tension drain from her shoulders.

She glanced up at me, a genuine smile lighting up her eyes in a way that clenched at my heart. "Thanks, Suguru."

Oh, those eyes.

It pains me that it was him she was looking at with those soft, adoring eyes.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The water stung, colder than usual.

I scrubbed my hands next to her, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Lost in thought again. I could tell. Her movements were mechanical, detached, her hands pale under the harsh fluorescent light. 

She was a mere shadow of her former self.

Damn it, Satoru. What did you do to her to get her this hollowed out? I wanted to put my fist through his face for the worry he constantly caused her. And the worst part was, she didn't even know the half of it.

I should tell her, right?

It was the right thing to do, to warn her about his failing liver, his addiction slowly eating him alive. She deserved to know, to be prepared.

But I couldn't. I'd made a promise. And he'd promised to get his shit together. But how much were those promises worth, really?

I know how this story will end. 

I'd seen it play out too many times.

I cleared my throat, pushing the thoughts away. "I'm proud of you," I said, trying to break the silence.

"Huh?" She looked at me, confusion clouding her eyes.

"How far you've come," I clarified, trying to get the words out right, but they still sounded hollow. How could I tell her how damn proud I was of the incredible woman she'd become? "Really, you're doing a great job. With the surgery, the research—you have a great future ahead of you."

She gave me a weak smile, then turned her gaze back to her reddened hands. 

She was trying to hold it together, I could see that. And it killed me to see her like this, struggling while I felt powerless to help shoulder her burdens. I wished she'd just open up, tell me what was wrong. But again, I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

"How are you doing?" I asked gently. "Really?"

"Holding up. Somehow."

I observed her closely. Even without her looking at me, I could feel the weight of her struggles pressing down on her.  She was always so strong, so confident, but this was different. I'd never seen her so—broken. It was like the life had drained out of her. And it damn hurt.

"New semester treating you okay?"

Stupid question, I know.

"Bit stressful," she admitted. "I have to retake a few exams."

Yeah, and whose goddamn fault is that?

God, I'm repeating myself, but I knew the answer. 

I hate the answer.

I hate it so damn much.

"Listen, if you need any help—" I began, wanting desperately to ease her burden.

"Thank you, Suguru," she cut me off, shutting off the faucet with a harsh twist. "But unless you're offering to take my tests for me, I'm afraid this is on me."

She turned and reached for a towel, the action more frantic than usual. I watched her, frustration and helplessness twisting in my gut. I wanted to do more, to be more for her, but how could I when the one she really needed was — not me.

Truth was a bitter pill I had to swallow every damn day.

As she dried her hands, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I turned off the water. "I'm sorry things turned out like this for you," I said, the words almost painful. "But it's for the best, for him and for you. We did what we had to."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

I grabbed a towel. "Hm?"

"What do you mean with, 'we'?"

Shit.

I froze mid-movement, my jaw tightening involuntarily. Damn it, I hadn't meant for that to slip out.

Her eyes bore into me, demanding answers. "What did you and Satoru talk about that night? The night before the hearing? I know he was with you."

I remembered it all too well.

Satoru showing up at my door in the middle of the night, shaking, sweating, barely holding onto his sanity. The ethics committee wanting to see him bleed, the guilt eating him alive over dragging her down with him, his addiction — it all become too much.

He didn't know what to do, what the right thing was. And I helped him see reason.

Or at least, that's what I told myself.

"It's nothing important. He was confused, and I helped him clear his head."

"What does that mean? What did you say to him?"

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles showed bone-white through the skin. She wasn't going to let this go.

Damn it, how could I get out of this?

She deserved the truth, I knew that. But I'd sworn to Satoru I wouldn't tell. My mind raced, searching for an explanation, but the truth was, there wasn't one.

Damn it, Satoru. Why do I always have to clean up your messes?

"Tell me what the fuck you said to him!"

And then I saw it. A flash of hurt in her eyes, a vulnerability I'd never seen before. It shattered me. She was so hurt. My beautiful, strong girl was so hurt and there was not a damn thing I could do to ease her suffering.

Because she was with him.

And I was on the sidelines, forced to watch Satoru tear her apart piece by piece — until there was nothing left.

I hated it. Hated Satoru for causing her so much pain.

I couldn't take it anymore. Sorry, Satoru, but screw you and your lies. This was different, because she was different.

"Isn't it obvious?" I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I told him to end this. That it would destroy you, and that he should take responsibility for once!"

She flinched, her eyebrows drawing together as she mutely shook her head. "You had no right. You had no fucking right to do that!"

No right?

Oh pretty, I know that better than anyone. But how could I stand by and watch her get dragged down with him? No. Not anymore. I refused.

"No right?" My voice matched hers. I hated how this entire wretched situation had me losing control, lashing out at her when Satoru was the one who deserved it. "And watch you both go down? Satoru was a ticking time bomb! It was better this way—better him destroyed than you dragged down with him."

"I had him, Suguru!" she shouted. "I almost had him trusting me enough, trusting us enough, to let me help him, damn it!"

I almost laughed, but it stuck in my throat. It hurt too much to see the hope still clinging to her eyes. "You're delusional. He can't change. You know that. It would always have ended like this."

"My god, I can't believe your audacity! You ruined everything!"

I ruined everything?

Maybe it wasn't fair of me, maybe my own feelings were clouding my judgment, but damn it, I couldn't watch this anymore. Not when I could still taste the embers in my mouth each time I saw the deadened look in her eyes.

I stepped closer, my jaw clenched. She flinched back, but I kept going. I'd watched Satoru hurt her too many times. I couldn't stand by any longer.

I had to shatter her delusion.

"You know how many times I've seen this play out? The promises to change? I've seen it too often. He won't get better, and I won't let him drag you under with him. Not you."

Her back hit the sink. I stepped closer, until I felt the sudden searing burn of her warmth radiating against me, the intoxicating floral notes of her scent filling my senses until I thought I might lose it from proximity alone.

My hand twitched, moving before my mind could catch up. I wanted to pull back, but I couldn't.

Fingertip traced the delicate line of her jaw, trembling slightly at the contact I craved so much. I fought the urge to let my touch linger, to commit every precious dove-soft plane and angle to memory while I still could.

"This is for the best," I rasped out. "You're young, brilliant. This—relationship with Satoru, it would have ruined you."

"Don't you dare," she hissed, eyes blazing as she swatted my hand away. "You have no right to decide what's best for me."

"Yes, I do. Because I was the one who got you here in the first place, it was my doing, and I—" My voice caught in my throat. "I don't want to see you hurt."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see the pain I'd caused reflected in her eyes. I'd done what I thought was right, what I believed was necessary to protect her. But in doing so, I had become the very thing I despised—a barrier between her and the happiness she deserved.

Perhaps I'd just screwed everything up even more. And it was killing me.

"Why are you saying this now?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

I wanted to tell her everything. 

I wanted to confess the depth of my feelings, the months of silent longing that felt like a steadily tightening noose around my neck whenever I witnessed her happiness with him, the aching, hollow pit that seemed to consume more of me with every smile, every tender caress between them that I wasn't the recipient of, the gut-wrenching jealousy that flayed me from the inside out whenever she looked at him with those devastatingly soft, adoring eyes that held nothing but indifference for me, the—

Sorry.

I'll stop now.

It didn't matter anyway, did it?

The words wouldn't come.

I couldn't, wouldn't allow myself to cross that line.

All I could do was look at her, my heart splitting apart from the violence of my want with every beat. The urge to reach out, to pull her against me, was almost overwhelming. But I held back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I'd already done enough damage.

Then, my damned gaze flickered down.

Those lips. God, those lips.

Soft, slightly parted, the bottom one bearing the faint imprint of her teeth—a nervous habit I'd caught myself watching, savoring, hating myself for noticing.

How many times had Satoru kissed those worry marks away? How many times had I wanted to?

I'd lost count of the nights I'd lain awake, imagining her mouth on mine, her lips parting to gasp my name—not his. It was torture, this constant craving to know their texture, their heat, their taste.

It was wrong, so fucking wrong, to think about her that way.

But there I was, night after night, picturing those lips forming my name in a way friends never do. Dreaming of tasting them, feeling them, knowing them in every way I shouldn't.

And it hurt.

I sucked in a hard breath.

Sorry, Satoru. I can't keep this to myself anymore.

"You know damn well why."

I couldn't say it out loud, couldn't bring myself to admit aloud what she patently refused to see with her own eyes. No. I simply couldn't.

"No," she breathed. "You can't—"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me that."

I already know that painful truth, pretty. It was a wound that refused to heal. I'd lived with that realization for far too long.

Suddenly, my pager blared, shattering the moment. Damn it. I cursed under my breath, pulling out the device. My face went taut as I read the message.

Yaga: Office. Now. Bring the student too.

That bastard. Why the hell did he want to see me now? And why her? Was it something Satoru screwed up again? Or something else? Did Satoru get the same message?

This couldn't have come at a worse time.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes searching mine. I couldn't meet her gaze. Not after I'd betrayed not only her, but Satoru too, with my stupid, selfish feelings.

"Yaga," I choked out. "Wants to see us. Now."

Our eyes finally met, hers filled with questions I've longed so much to answer.

"Why?"

"I...I don't know. But we should go. Come on."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

My foot tapped a nervous beat on the scuffed wooden floor.

Why was I so damn nervous? I knew Yaga's games, been through them a thousand times. But this felt different. Because she was here. And she shouldn't be.

A knot tightened in my gut.

He wouldn't bring up that topic again, would he?

I glared at Yaga, willing him to just spit it out already. My eyes flicked to her, sitting stiffly beside me. Her face was a mask. I wondered what she was thinking about. Was she thinking about what I said? Or about—no, I didn't even want to think about that.

I know, I know, I'm repeating myself.

I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

"So, shall we begin?" Yaga's voice finally cut through the silence, like he'd been enjoying our discomfort. Damn old bastard. "I've called you here to discuss a research project that I want you to redo."

He slid a folder across the desk towards her.

No name, just a mess of loose papers threatening to spill out. She picked it up, her brow furrowing as she opened it. Then her grip tightened on the file. I leaned closer to see what had her so tense, and my stomach dropped.

I knew that title.

Knew it better than anyone, except maybe the one person who'd written it.

"You want me to redo a study that was completely pointless?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"Yes," Yaga said simply.

"The results were inconclusive. A dead end."

"Your research held promise. Dr. Geto never failed to remind me." Yaga's eyes flickered to me. "Now, you have better resources, better support. You can refine it, perfect it."

Damn it. I should've kept my mouth shut.

Regret gnawed at my insides like acid. Regretted telling him what a brilliant mind she had, how much she deserved to be here—among the best. 

Because she did.

She was a natural, something I'd rarely seen before, maybe only in Satoru. Hell, it was like watching a younger Satoru at work. And it hurt. It was painful to see so many parallels between them, knowing that I could never measure up to him in her eyes.

I'd brought her here because I believed in her. Because I wanted her on my research team, because I wanted to work with her. But now, I wasn't so sure.

Had I screwed up? Was I the reason she was in this mess? Had I brought her here only to watch her world fall apart?

I didn't want to admit it. Couldn't bear to be the cause of her pain.

I glanced at her, catching her eye. Frustration and confusion were written all over her face.

Shame washed over me.

It was stupid, I know. I shouldn't feel ashamed for recognizing her talent, for bringing her here where she belonged. She deserved it all. But I couldn't shake the feeling that without me, she would've been better off.

Without me and Satoru.

Her knuckles turned white as bone as she gripped the file tighter, then slammed it shut.

"That's not the point," she said. "My CAR-T Therapy research was theoretical, a mathematical model that was inherently flawed. All the best equipment in the world won't change that. It's a black hole."

Yaga leaned forward. "Listen, we have a generous donor. I think you met her at the conference? She took quite a liking to you. Her husband recently succumbed to this very type of tumor."

I knew it.

Yaga, the greedy bastard, never changed his stripes.

The silence was heavy, the only sound the insistent ticking of the clock on the wall. Her mind was racing, I could feel it. So was mine.

I must have spaced out for a second, because the next thing I knew, she was speaking again, her voice dangerously low. "You want to use me to exploit a grieving woman just to line your pockets?"

Yaga's mouth hung open, the smug look wiped clean off his face.

In any other situation, I would have laughed. She, a mere student, had managed to stun the all-powerful Yaga into silence. But the situation was anything but funny. Still, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. She was something else.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. I didn't even need to turn my head to know who it was.

"What the hell is going on here?" Satoru's voice boomed through the room.

Yaga's face hardened. "Dr. Gojo, what a... surprise. Here I thought you might have finally bothered to read your emails."

"Cut the bullshit, Yaga," Satoru spat. "This is a new low, even for you. Forcing a student, exploiting a grieving widow—have you no shame?"

Yaga rubbed his temples, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Dr. Gojo, your dramatics are exhausting. Do you understand the costs your actions have inflicted on this institution? A shred of gratitude, a willingness to shoulder some responsibility, might be a welcome change."

"Responsibility? You want to talk about responsibility? You're exploiting a woman in the depths of grief, using one of my students as a bargaining chip. What the hell happened to you, Yaga?"

The two of them went at it, their words flying back and forth faster than my eyes could follow. 

Yeah, Satoru sure knew how to make an entrance. Not a trait that was always helpful in situations like this, because something in Yaga snapped at his words.

Yaga stood up so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor. "Happened to me? Dr. Gojo, have you considered the consequences of your reckless behavior? You're the one spiraling, and frankly, it's becoming unbearable."

Damn, these two were about to kill each other. Satoru should know better than to provoke Yaga like that. The old man was stubborn as hell. But so was Satoru.

I closed my eyes briefly, then stepped between them, forcing myself to sound calm. "Director Yaga, please. She's a student, her focus should be on her studies."

"Of course, which is why you and Dr. Gojo will provide your expertise. Your old lab is free to use, funds are secured, equipment at your disposal. You have free rein."

Huh?

I narrowed my eyes. As if that made it any better.

Satoru let out a bitter laugh. "Free rein? Or free rein to do as you please? Despicable, Yaga. Truly despicable." He leaned back, folding his arms.   "And wasn't I suspended? Investigations and all that? But I suppose principles go out the window when money enters the picture."

"You have no right to dictate what happens here, Gojo," Yaga snapped, his composure slipping. "You answer to me. This research holds immense potential, not just for the university, but for the field itself. You will do it. End of discussion."

"Potential? Or is that just fancy code for fattening your wallet, Yaga?"

"Don't play dumb, Gojo. You, of all people, know exactly how the game is played."

"Don't. Do. This." Satoru leaned forward, his chest brushing against my hand as I tried to hold him back. "Involve her in your schemes, and I swear—Leave her out of this. Suguru and I can do the damned research, but let her focus on her studies."

"You're in no position to bargain. I can make things incredibly difficult for you, Gojo. Throw away all that potential, all that talent... it would be a shame, wouldn't it? But I am more than willing to do so if you prove uncooperative."

Smug bastard was really pushing it today.

He was nothing without us, and he knew it. This whole place would crumble without Satoru and me. We were the ones who brought in the grants, the prestige, the groundbreaking research. And yet, he treated us like we were disposable.

I pushed Satoru back, stepping up to confront Yaga directly. The urge to wipe that smugness from his face with my fists was nearly overwhelming, but I forced control over my rage. One hothead was more than enough for today.

Still, my words came out in a tone of barely restrained menace. "Director. Dr. Gojo has a point. This research will be a massive distraction. Her studies should be her priority."

"Yes," Yaga drawled. "I heard about her recent... setbacks." Yaga sank back in his chair and opened his laptop. "A failed practical exam, a theoretical test barely passed. And this isn't the first time, is it?"

He turned the screen towards her, her failing grades a glaring red on the display. "Tell me, which subject would you like to miraculously pass? A click of my fingers, and it's done."

Before I could say anything, Satoru exploded.

"You blackmailing piece of shit!"

"Blackmail?" Yaga said. "No, blackmail would be threatening to cut her scholarship, endangering her entire future here... which, thankfully, our generous donor would be more than happy to preserve."

This was too much. 

Now he had two pissed-off neurosurgeons on his hands. I braced my hands on the desk, leaning towards him. "Yaga, this is beyond the pale! This blatant manipulation—"

Suddenly, her voice cut through the tension. "I'll do it. I'll work on the research."

The room fell silent. 

Satoru and I both whipped around to look at her. Her gaze was fixed on Yaga, not flinching. There was something defeated about her, something I wasn't used to seeing. It chilled me to the bone. She wouldn't give in like that. I knew her better than that.

But what had changed?

"Someone finally sees reason," Yaga said, breaking the silence. "You start this week—"

"No," Satoru interrupted. "That's not up for debate. We start next week."

"This week," Yaga repeated, his voice firm.

Leaning in, Satoru's voice took on a dangerous edge. "Next week. Or I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new star surgeon."

Huh?

Why did the start date matter so much to him?

Was that the real issue here?

"Dr. Gojo, you are exceedingly close to losing my goodwill," Yaga ground out. "Fine. Next week."

Satoru backed off and started to pace the room. I glanced at her, who was still sitting silently in her chair. She looked so small, lost in the shadows of Yaga's office. I wanted to wrap her in a hug, tell her it would all be okay.

But it wasn't my place. I knew the answer—

Sorry.

I'll not repeat myself yet again.

My gaze shifted back to Yaga. "And if we find nothing? Months, years, wasted on a dead-end?"

"You'll continue as long as the funding lasts."

"Of course," Satoru spat from across the room.

"Well, look at the bright side, Gojo," Yaga said, adjusting his glasses and focusing on some papers on his desk. "I just approved that fancy new CT scanner for the ER. Isn't that what you've been whining about? Finally found some spare change in the budget, did we?."

"You fucking bastard," Satoru hissed.

Yaga merely shrugged. "Everyone has to play their role, Gojo."

I watched the exchange with a growing sense of disgust. Yaga's power plays were nothing new, but this — this was something else. Exploiting a grieving widow's generosity, using my student's academic struggles as leverage. It was sickening. 

I'd always known Yaga was ruthless, but this level of manipulation left a sour taste in my mouth. He was like a parasite, feeding off the brilliance and drive of others, all while masquerading as an advocate for the institution's best interests.

I clenched my jaw.

How could I continue to work for a man who treated his students and staff as mere commodities to be exploited?

Suddenly, I heard a shaky breath behind me.

I turned to see her staring blankly ahead, her body trembling ever so slightly. "If you'll excuse me," she whispered, then abruptly stood up and practically fled the room.

"Wait—" I started, but she was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Fuck you, Yaga!" Satoru shouted, slamming his fist against the wall hard enough to leave a mark. "This is your fault, your doing!" With that, he stormed out after her.

And I couldn't follow.

All I could do was try to clean up the mess that was left behind.

As soon as they were gone, I turned back to Yaga, who seemed to think the conversation was over. Oh, but it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

"You know about them," I said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"It's obvious even to a blind man, Dr. Geto," Yaga replied, his eyes glued to the papers on his desk.

"And you're just going to ignore it?"

He looked up, a cold glint in his eyes. "I finally found Gojo's weakness. Why would I let that go? At long last, I have a way to make him obey me."

I scoffed. In one swift motion, I swept the papers off his desk, scattering them across the floor. I leaned forward, my hands braced on his desk, glaring at him.

"This crosses a line, Yaga. You've gone too far."

His eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, Dr. Geto. You're treading on dangerous ground."

"No, you are!" I shot back, my voice rising. "You're exploiting her, using her for your own gain. You think you can manipulate everyone, but you're wrong."

"Control? Greed? Those are harsh words coming from you," Yaga retorted, standing up to face me. "And here I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Understand your greed? Not a chance."

"I don't care if you like my choices or not. This is how things work. You can play by the rules, or be replaced. Don't delude yourself into thinking you're irreplaceable, Dr. Geto."

"Your arrogance is going to cost you another surgeon if you don't watch it. You drove Sukuna away, and now you're halfway there with Gojo and me."

"Sukuna was a different story!" Yaga snapped, his face contorted with a rage I couldn't quite comprehend. He quickly regained his composure, but the outburst had left an uneasy silence in its wake.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw Shoko's name. Frowning, I answered the call. "Shoko? What is it?"

"Suguru, there's a patient here who insists on seeing Satoru. She says it's really important, but he isn't answering his phone, and she won't leave.“

"Why can't you see her yourself?"

"I need a neurologist's assessment," she replied. "And she specifically asked for Satoru. They had an appointment scheduled, and she's adamant about seeing him."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "There are other neurologists on staff right now."

I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "She's never seen anyone else here, Suguru. I'm pretty sure there's a reason she's so insistent on Satoru. Just look at her, do me a favor."

"Alright, I'll be there soon," I conceded. "Bring her to my office."

I ended the call and turned back to Yaga. I took a deep breath, trying to quell the rage that threatened to consume me. "This isn't over. Not by a damn sight."

"Yeah, yeah, Dr. Geto, as always," he dismissed me, already back at his papers. "By the way, there's a legal consult regarding this research coming up for you and Gojo. We don't want a repeat of past indiscretions, now do we?" He looked up at me.

I wanted to smash his smug face in. 

I turned and stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. My blood was boiling, my fists clenched tight. I hated this whole damn situation. Hated Yaga, hated his manipulative tactics, hated how he was using her. But most of all, I hated feeling so goddamn powerless.

As I walked down the corridor, my anger slowly hardening into resolve. Yaga might think he was in control, but he was wrong. I wouldn't let him manipulate her, or Satoru, or anyone else.

Not this time. Not ever again.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I made my way to the hospital.

A damn patient was really the last thing on my mind. I had more important things to do than deal with a hysterical patient. What was it even about? Why did it have to be Satoru she wanted to see? Some relative of his?

I tried to take a deep breath and calm myself, but the downpour between the parking lot and the main entrance made it damn near impossible. By the time I got inside, I was soaked to the bone. No umbrella in sight, of course.

My office door was slightly open. I pushed it in, expecting to find some old lady or something. Instead, a young woman sat in the chair across from my desk. Mid twenties, maybe, with a delicate, almost fragile look about her. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

The office was dark, the lights off, which struck me as odd given the gloomy weather outside. But the light from the window beside her illuminated her face, and I had to admit — she was beautiful.

I must have hesitated overlong in the doorway, because her gaze suddenly snapped up to meet mine, those stunning eyes of hers holding me captive. "You are not Dr. Gojo."

"I'm Dr. Geto," I managed, clearing my throat against the strange tension. "You not fond of light, are you?" I asked pointing towards the light switch.

"I like it a bit dimmed," she said, and I didn't question it further.

I stepped into the room, glancing down at my clothes. Not exactly the most professional look for a doctor, standing there soaked through in front of a patient. I threw on my white coat, but it did little to hide my damp appearance.

"You were here for Dr. Gojo, right?" I said as I sat down behind my desk.

"Yes," she said, her eyes following my every move.

"I'm sorry, but he isn't available right now. But I'm a neurologist as well. Perhaps I can help you instead?"

She slid a piece of paper across my desk, her hand still resting on it. "I just need a signature here."

"A signature?" I leaned forward, water dripping from my hair onto the form. I quickly pushed my wet strands back. "This is a health screening form."

"Yes." Her eyes darted nervously to mine. "I need it for my job."

"Can I take a look at it?" I made to take the paper, but her hand remained firmly in place.

"Just the signature, please. Then I'll be out of your hair."

I raised an eyebrow. "I can't sign something without knowing what I'm signing."

Her brow furrowed, and she snatched the form back. "Sorry to have wasted your time," she muttered, starting to get up.

"Wait," I said, stopping her mid-motion. What was it about this woman? What did Satoru have to do with any of this?

"Tell me." I leaned back in my chair. "What did you and Gojo agree on regarding this?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "Dr. Gojo agreed to sign it without asking too many questions."

Something didn't add up. Satoru might be an addict, but he wasn't reckless with patients.

"I swear, I'll give you the signature you need if you'd just let me take a look at it first."

Reluctantly, she slid the form back across the desk, avoiding my eyes. I scanned it quickly, my brow furrowing as I saw the long list of medications, mostly anticonvulsants. 

That explained the lights being off.

"You have epilepsy." I looked up at her. Why would she think either of us would sign this without checking it out first?

"Yes."

"And you're currently taking all these meds?" I gestured to the list.

"Yes."

I leaned back, studying her face. "And Gojo knew about this?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any other words in your vocabulary besides 'yes'?"

Her brow furrowed, and a flicker of defiance flashed in her eyes.

I sighed. "Come on, sit down."

Reluctantly, she settled back into the chair.

I studied her face, looking for any signs of her epilepsy — a slight tremor in her hands from the Topiramate, maybe. But there was nothing. She was perfectly still. Satoru must have found the right dosage.

The silence stretched on. I waited for an explanation, and she knew it. I could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"He's been treating me for a while," she finally said.

"I see. And he agreed to sign this health screening form for you?"

"Yes—"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Look, Dr. Geto, I really need this for my internship," she pleaded. "It's really important to me."

I glanced back down at the form. "Nishimura and Asahi, huh? That's a big deal. You're a law intern?"

"Yes, I am. I'll be working there for the next semester."

I skimmed the papers again, test results, MRI scans. "So, you're almost done with your studies?"  I asked, not looking up.

"I do my second state examination after my internship, yes, then I'm done."

"Hmm." I looked up from the papers, the rain drumming against the windows, the only sound in the otherwise silent office. She stared at me, unwavering.

"So you're preparing for your final exams while working the internship? Sounds stressful," I tried to broach the subject carefully.

"Please, Dr. Geto," she said. "I just need a signature on this paper, and I'm out of here."

I sighed. "I understand. But I can't just sign this without checking in on you first. I need to run some tests, make sure you're fit for work."

My eyes scanned the papers again. Blood tests and medication checks were recent, but the MRI scans were outdated. Even Satoru wouldn't have let her slide with that.

"Look, we can make this quick," I offered. "Your MRI scans are old. We take new ones, and then—"

"No," she blurted out, her voice rising in panic. "I mean, isn't there another way?"

"Another way to look into your brain?" I raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid not."

She bit her lip, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap, saying nothing.

"Look, it's crucial for me to get a clear picture of your brain activity," I explained. "It's the only way I can make sure you're safe and healthy. Otherwise, I can't sign that form."

She looked up at me again. "I... I can't do MRIs. I'm not really comfortable with enclosed spaces."

Huh?

Was that the problem?

I ran a hand through my damp hair, looking back at her scans. "Your last scans were done by Dr. Gojo too, right?"

"Yes."

She was a woman of few words, it seemed.

"Was there something special Dr. Gojo did that made you feel more comfortable in the MRI? Did he give you any medication? Vistaril? Valium?" I knew it wasn't that, though. Those drugs would interact badly with her other meds.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking like she might throw up any second. "He... held my hand."

Ha?

My eyebrows shot up. "He held your hand?"

She lifted her chin and looked away. "It... it helped."

I can only imagine the dumbfounded look that must have settled on my features as I processed her words. I couldn't picture Satoru, who rather had his patients in and out in mere seconds, being so patient and caring with anyone. Let alone holding their hand through a brain scan.

She crossed her arms, a stubborn look on her face. "I swear, nothing weird happened. He just held my hand, that's all."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny," she protested, her cheeks flushing. "It was really embarrassing."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," I teased, enjoying her flustered reaction. "But it's also quite cute."

She huffed, turning her head away. "It's not cute. It's just... something he did."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "And would you like me to do the same?"

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of challenge in them. "His hands were really soft."

"Is that so?" I leaned back in my chair. I could see the wheels turning in her head, her stubbornness a thinly veiled attempt to stall for time.

"And warm."

"Aha."

"And he had this way of holding my hand," she started, demonstrating with her own hands. My eyebrows shot up even higher as she mimicked Satoru's thumb stroking her knuckles. "Like this."

Somewhere in the middle of her demonstration, she must have realized how ridiculous this was, because she abruptly stopped.

"Don't laugh!" she warned, and I realized I was indeed grinning like an idiot.

Before she could object, I reached out and took her hand in mine.

Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate. I held her gaze, challenging her silently. Not sure what I was trying to prove, but the warmth of her hand in mine felt... good. I knew I was crossing a line here, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"See? Not so bad, is it?"

She didn't say anything, but her grip tightened a bit. I held her gaze for a few more seconds, then my thumb brushed against the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. She seemed to relax slightly under my touch.

Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I... I suppose."

I couldn't help but let the moment linger, our hands still intertwined. I noticed a slight tremor in her fingers, and my thumb instinctively smoothed over her skin again.

She suddenly gasped. "That's... quite weird."

"And with Gojo it wasn't weird?"

She shook her head, eyes glued to our hands. "No. I just realized it's weird in general."

I smiled. "Well, then it's settled. We'll schedule your MRI for tomorrow morning."

"You're not like other doctors."

"Perhaps not," I said, finally letting go of her hand. "But you're not exactly your average patient either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gestured towards my soaked shirt. "You're the doctor who's completely drenched. I can practically see your skin underneath. Not very professional, is it?"

I glanced down at my sopping clothes. I hadn't even realized how see-through my shirt was. "For someone who's afraid of an MRI machine, you sure have a big mouth."

She crossed her arms. "And for someone who just held a patient's hand without their explicit consent, you sure have a lot of nerve. That's a violation of medical ethics, you know. I could report you for that."

"A law student, are we?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Perhaps you should focus on passing your exams before you start threatening lawsuits."

"Yeah, well, I'd need that signature before I can do that, wouldn't I?"

"Fair enough." I stood up, keys in hand. "Until tomorrow then. Try not to sue me in your sleep."

I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me. "Just so you know, Dr. Geto. I'm not afraid of MRI machines. I just don't like them."

I turned back, a grin spreading across my face. "We'll see about that tomorrow, Attorney," I challenged. "We'll see about that."

The hallway was empty, the silence broken only by the steady drip of water from my clothes. As I walked, the adrenaline of the encounter faded, replaced by the familiar weight of the day's earlier events. The tense confrontation with Yaga, the lingering ache for her — it all came back, a dull throb in the background of my thoughts.

Her face.

Her eyes.

That damn smile.

I ran a hand through my hair.

Fuck.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I held my promise.

Her fingers were cold and clammy, her pulse racing beneath my touch. My thumb traced the back of her hand, hoping to convey some sense of comfort. The MRI machine's steady thrum filled the room, but beneath it, I could still hear her shallow breaths.

How the hell did I end up here? Holding hands with a patient during a goddamn brain scan was definitely not in my job description.

"Can you tell me something?" she asked. "Dr. Gojo always talked to me while I was in here."

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you and Dr. Gojo meet?"

I hesitated, slightly irritated by the personal question.

"We've known each other our whole lives. Kindergarten, elementary school, high school... we didn't always get along. He can be a real pain in the ass. But somewhere along the way, we just clicked. Been stuck together ever since. Same university, now working together."

"So you've never been apart?"

"Not really," I said, continuing to soothe her hand with my thumb. "I think the longest we were separated was when he did a semester abroad. Six months, maybe."

"Wow. Sounds like you're an old married couple."

I huffed. "Yeah, somehow we were that."

"Were?"

I looked up, realizing I'd slipped into past tense.

There was a long silence as I thought about it. We used to be so close, inseparable. There was nothing we didn't share, nothing that could ever come between us. But lately, it felt like we were drifting apart.

Maybe I was only realizing it now.

"Oh, I..." I trailed off. I rested my chin on my free hand, looking away from her. "I guess it's only natural. People drift apart. Life happens."

What the hell was I doing?

This was some random patient of Satoru's, a complete stranger. I should've stuck to small talk, the weather, anything but my personal life. But maybe, with everything going on, I just needed to talk about it — to anyone. Because I sure as hell couldn't talk to Satoru about it.

But she wouldn't understand, would she? She was just a stranger.

She wouldn't understand the sleepless nights, the endless tossing and turning, the hollow ache in my chest that wouldn't go away.

"Hmm," she murmured, her grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Was it a woman?"

"Huh?" I looked at her, or at least the part of her face that wasn't hidden by the MRI machine.

"The reason you parted, I mean?"

"No. It wasn't a woman."

The silence hung in the air as the MRI hummed and clicked. She didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath. "It was a woman. But not in the way you think."

"It's never what it seems, is it?"

I hesitated, not sure how much to share. But something in her voice, a softness, made me want to go on. "They share a bond... a deep one. I've never seen anything like that. It's like they're the very air the other breathes."

Her grip on my hand tightened, as if she understood the depth of my pain, even without knowing the full story. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," I said, trying to shrug it off, but the pain was still raw. "I knew from the start that they were made for each other."

The truth sliced through me, sharp and cold.

They were too similar, both bordering on insanity to be fair, but similar. Yet, they were so stubborn, so unwilling to admit their need for each other, that they'd rather tear each other down.

It was a damn tragedy.

Even more of a tragedy to get caught up in their destruction, to have these stupid feelings I'd rather not have.

I stayed silent, unsure if I wanted to say anything more. It hurt too much to talk about it, the wound still too fresh. But then, her voice cut through the silence again.

"The law firm is hell."

"Huh?" I was pulled back to the present. "What do you mean?"

"The corporate types are all so stiff and judgmental," she complained. "And the other law students... so ambitious, always trying to one-up each other. I hate it."

My lips twitched into a light smile. "Yeah, law students were always ambitious, even back in my day."

"They are. Everyone's so focused on being the best, even if it means stepping on others. I'm not sure I have that kind of ambition."

"But you got an internship at one of the top law firms in the city," I pointed out. "That must mean you're pretty ambitious yourself."

There was a pause, then she almost whispered, "Yeah, but at what cost..."

Hm?

I barely caught her words, but before I could ask her to repeat herself, a sudden beep from the MRI machine cut through the air. The machine whirred to a stop, the sudden silence almost unsettling. The scan was complete.

The table slowly slid out, bringing her back into full view. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. "That's it?" she asked, sounding surprised. "It's over?"

"All done, Attorney," I said with a reassuring smile. "You did great."

As she started to sit up, I realized I was still holding her hand. She glanced down at our intertwined fingers. "You can let go now, Dr. Geto."

I blinked, snapping back to reality. I quickly released her hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "I tend to have that effect on men."

"Again, for someone who's afraid of MRIs, you've got a pretty big mouth."

"Again, I'm not afraid of them. I just don't like them."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, helping her off the table. My hand brushed against hers again. "Now let's take a look at those scans."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

As the images flickered onto the screen, my focus sharpened, my eyes scanning the intricate patterns of her brain. The room was quiet, broken only by the soft hum of the computer and the rhythmic beeping of the nearby monitors.

"Everything looks good, Attorney," I said. "No signs of any abnormalities or lesions."

She leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest as she studied the images. "So, I'm all clear?"

"As far as I can tell. Your epilepsy seems to be well-controlled with your current medication."

"Thanks, Dr. Geto, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," I replied, grabbing the form from my desk. "Now, about that signature..." I quickly filled it out, my pen scratching across the paper. With a final flourish, I signed my name at the bottom.

"Here you go," I said, handing it over. "All set."

She took it, her eyes scanning the document quickly. "Thank you. You've been a lifesaver."

"Just doing my job." I waved away her thanks. "Now, go out there and conquer the legal world."

She looked up from the paper and met my gaze with a boldness that caught me off guard. "Would you like to go out for drinks this weekend?"

I blinked, my mind scrambling to process her words. "I... what?" I stammered, completely taken aback. "Are you—asking me out?"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" She quickly waved her hands in front of her face. "I mean, not like a date or anything. I could really use a friend, someone to show me around and... you know, just hang out with."

I stared at her, amused and bewildered at the same time. "Attorney, I'm at least ten years older than you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Ha? How old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Didn't you read my medical history, doctor?"

Right. Now I remembered. Twenty-six. Yeah, ten years older. I leaned against the desk, not quite sure what to make of her proposition.

"I'm your doctor," I said, reminding her of the obvious.

"Technically, I'm Dr. Gojo's patient."

"Even so, you realize how this could be perceived, right?" 

"It's not like I'm asking for your kidney. Just a few drinks." She shrugged, unfazed. "Besides, you seem like a nice guy."

"That's all it takes for you?"

"Come on, don't make it so hard for me," she said, pouting playfully.

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to show you around town. I'm a bit of a workaholic. Socializing isn't exactly my forte."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious gaze. "So you're saying you don't have any friends?" she asked, a playful challenge in her voice. "Are you a loner, Dr. Geto?"

I hesitated, thrown off by her directness. "Do you always speak your mind so bluntly?"

She shrugged. "Only when I'm talking to heartbroken doctors who seem a little lonely."

I couldn't help but be intrigued by her persistence.

She was unlike any patient I'd ever met — bold, witty, and surprisingly insightful. And despite the age difference, there was some sort of strange understanding between us. I couldn't quite tell if she was doing this for herself or for me, but I found myself wanting to find out.

"Alright, Attorney," I said. "You win. I'll show you around town. But don't expect any wild nights out. I'm more of a quiet bar and good conversation kind of guy."

Her face lit up with a genuine smile. "Sounds perfect. Just promise me you won't try to diagnose me with anything while we're out."

"Why, is there more to diagnose?"

"Nothing major," she said with a chuckle. "Just the usual existential angst, quarter-life crisis, questioning my entire career path kind of stuff."

"Don't worry. I won't diagnose anything outside this hospital."

"Great." She grinned, extending her hand. "Then it's a deal."

As our hands clasped together, I returned her smile. "Deal."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Satoru's call woke me up, telling me to get my ass to the lab. It was my day off, damn it, but when he mentioned she wanted to meet us. I dragged myself out of bed.

By the time I got to our old lab — now ours again, apparently — Satoru was already mapping out the entire research study on the whiteboard. He must have been there for hours.

Good thing I'd brought two coffees. I knew this was coming.

Hours passed in a blur of caffeine and whiteboard markers. Satoru and I argued over every damn strategy, our approaches clashing like always. He wanted to go one way, I wanted to go another. Every idea we had was met with immediate criticism and erased within minutes.

New idea, erase, repeat.

But we kept going, trying to find a plan that would work, not just for us, but for her. We both wanted to take some of the burden off her shoulders.

Then the lab door opened. I turned, surprised to see anyone before the afternoon. My heart stuttered in my chest.

It was her.

She walked over to us, her expression unreadable. It was the first time I'd seen her since Yaga's office, since I'd almost let those three damning words slip past my guard. Since I'd seen the confusion in her eyes when she realized what I was about to confess.

God, what had I been thinking?

That she'd what, return my feelings?

Foolish.

"What are you doing here?" Satoru asked. "Don't you have a lecture right now?"

"Yuta's covering for me. It's fine."

"That's not how this research will work. You won't jeopardize your studies for this," Satoru said, his voice firm.

"Last time I checked, this was my research. Remember?" she retorted, her tone just as sharp.

Satoru merely huffed. She shifted under his gaze, looking uncomfortable. And tired. No, tired was an understatement. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin pale. I hated seeing her like this.

"You look exhausted," I observed quietly. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm fine," she said, but it was a blatant lie.

I glanced at Satoru, who was already looking at me with a frown. He thought the same thing I did.

"Look, I have an idea," she said suddenly, walking over to the whiteboard and snatching the marker from my hand. Before I could react, she erased our notes with a few harsh strokes.

Ouch.

"My original approach was too theoretical—too cautious," she began, drawing on the whiteboard. "I wanted to use CAR-T therapy to treat brain tumors like blood diseases, but that's not enough. What if we combine CAR-T with targeted antibodies?"

I took a seat next to Satoru, my eyes following hers as she scribbled diagrams and equations on the board. I took a sip of my coffee, already cold. "Antibodies... what kind?"

"T-cell engagers," she said without missing a beat. "We can engineer them to bridge the gap between the CAR-T cells and the tumor."

"That's never been tested before," Satoru chimed in.

"That's why we'll be the first," she retorted. “We'll modify the CAR-T cells to specifically target the glioblastoma's antigen fingerprint. But we need to combine them with T-cell engagers, designed to simultaneously bind the EGFR protein. This way, we can maximize tumor cell destruction."

It was hard to keep up. Her words were spilling out a mile a minute, as if she was afraid they otherwise might slip her mind, the drawings on the board barely legible.

Then, she spun around. "And we'll inject them directly into the brain."

Silence.

Satoru and I stared at her, trying to process what she'd just laid out. Even as seasoned neurosurgeons, we were struggling to keep up. This was on a whole other level than anything we'd considered.

We were looking for something that would work and be safe.

She just wanted to find a way to make it work, damn the risks it seemed. The lack of sleep was clearly messing with her head, but in a twisted way, it made sense. Still, we couldn't actually go through with this, could we?

Her gaze flitted between us, waiting for a response.

God, I need a cigarette.

"That's," I paused, searching for the right word, "—bold."

"More like insane," Satoru countered. "When was the last time you actually slept?"

"Ha? Tell me this doesn't make sense."

I leaned back, drumming my fingers on the armrest as I thought it over. "It does. Theoretically, it could work."

"Combining CAR-T with antibodies? Direct brain injection? We don't have preclinical data, not even hypothetical models to support something this radical," Satoru countered.

"So?" she challenged. "Isn't that what groundbreaking research is about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries?" She gestured to the whiteboard. "This—this is worth the risk."

I stood up and started pacing, rubbing my chin as I thought it through. I walked back over to the board, took the marker from her hand, and started scribbling.

"She's right,"  I said, my mind racing.  "Direct injection cuts through the blood-brain barrier issue. And targeted antibodies... that opens up possibilities we haven't even considered."

But there were still so many obstacles. "The potential for cytokine release syndrome—" I mused aloud. "If the T-cells overreact, we could trigger an inflammatory response."

She leaned closer, her eyes focused on the board. "We can manage that. Steroids, anti-IL-6... strict monitoring protocols."

Hmm, maybe. But there was still more to consider. I kept writing. "And what about the target itself? EGFRvIII is notoriously heterogeneous. We need robust evidence that our antibodies won't miss their mark—"

"Is it just me, or am I the only sane person in this room right now?" Satoru interrupted, his arms crossed as he glared at us from his chair. "We're not talking about hypothetical models here. We're talking about messing with someone's brain. Someone's life."

"I'm well aware of the risks, Satoru," she shot back.

"Aware and reckless aren't the same thing," he retorted.

"Coming from you, that's rich."

God, I need two cigarettes now.

"Look, you've barely slept for a week, and now you're proposing—what, supercharged T-cells?" He gestured towards our chaotic notes on the whiteboard. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?" His gaze flickered between the two of us.

I was surprised he was so hesitant. Satoru was usually the first to jump into the deep end. Somehow, I had the feeling he changed. He wasn't as risky as I used to know him. Must be her influence.

She took a step forward, her eyes locked on Satoru's. "This could work, Satoru. Or are you too much of a coward to even try?"

"Ha?"

She leaned in, her hands gripping the arms of his chair. "Tell me, do these supercharged T-cells unnerve you? Make you uncomfortable with yourself?"

I had to look away. The sight of them so close together made my stomach churn. I didn't want to see whatever was about to happen. She whispered something I couldn't make out, but the intensity in her eyes was clear. A wave of irritation, of jealousy, washed over me.

My phone buzzed, a welcome distraction. I pulled it out, annoyance flaring when I saw the caller ID.

"Damn it." I answered the call. "Shoko, what is it?"

"Hey Suguru, look, we have an emergency here and the other neurologist is out sick. We need someone to jump in, can you come?"

I rubbed my temple. "Alright, I'm on my way."

I turned back to them, already gathering my things. "We'll pick this up later. There's a situation at the hospital." I looked at her, concern replacing my irritation. "Get some rest. You look like hell."

The words were out before I could stop them, harsher than I intended. But I was already halfway out the door.

Later, as I was scrubbing into surgery, my own words echoed in my mind.

And I felt awful.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Sharp autumn air stung my lungs with each greedy drag on my cigarette.

Across the table, Satoru's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the worn table that set my teeth on edge. I had to resist the urge to reach over and grab his wrist to make him stop. His eyes were glued to his phone. Overhead, the sky was a bruise-colored canvas, the sun barely visible.

Forgotten coffee grew cold between us.

I took another long drag from my cigarette. Satoru shifted opposite of me, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He hadn't looked away from his phone in minutes, his fingers twitching as if itching to type a message.

We sat like this for a while at the campus outdoor cafeteria. Students hurried past. Neither of us said a word.

"Sorry for ditching you with my patient the other day," he finally said. "How'd it go?"

I exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it vanish into the leaden sky. "Everything's fine. Medication's good, MRI was clean."

"That's good news," he said, already back to his phone, unlocking and locking it in a nervous tic. "Knew you'd take care of her." He glanced up with a smirk. "So she actually went through with the MRI? How'd that go?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Let's not talk about it." I stubbed out my cigarette butt in the grimy ashtray and immediately lit another. "Didn't know you were so soft with your patients."

"I'm not a monster, you know." He shrugged, gaze dropping back to his phone. "I do what's best for them, even if it means bending the rules a bit." He paused, a smirk once again forming on his lips. "She's pretty straightforward, huh?"

"Did you sleep with her?" I asked bluntly.

Satoru's head snapped up, eyebrows raised. "What, you think I'm screwing every student that walks through my door?"

"You seem familiar."

"She's nice. I was nice in return. That's all." His attention was already drifting back to the bright screen. "Besides, she works with Higurama. He asked me to keep an eye on her."

I exhaled slowly, the smoke a grey ghost against the darkening sky.

"She's doing okay, by the way," he offered without looking up.

My blood ran cold. 

I knew who he was talking about. We both did.

Satoru's gaze met mine, his smirk gone. "I know you want to ask."

Silence fell. I wondered if he could sense the fever-pitch of my pulse, if he knew about my feelings for her. Because the way he looked at me now, I had a sinking feeling he did. My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.

"It's not easy for her," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

"Yeah." Satoru's expression hardened. "I should kill Yaga over this whole mess."

"Still, her plan might actually work. It's a good one."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" His leg started its anxious bouncing again under the table. "She's pushing herself too damn hard."

He paused, then blurted, "We should leave this university."

"Like we talked about before you backed out?"

"You know why." He unlocked his phone again, only to lock it a second later with a sigh. "I can't leave her alone with these maniacs."

"The whole staying away from her thing isn't really working out, huh?"

"Of course not," Satoru scoffed with a weary sigh. "I should've known better."

I took a sip of the coffee gone cold and bitter minutes ago, watching him over the rim. He raked a hand through his hair, then tugged at the strands, his leg still bouncing under the table. Something was eating at him.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, fine," he replied curtly.

I watched him for a beat longer. He was clearly anything but fine. But I knew better than to push it. He wouldn't tell me anyway. Satoru always kept that shit bottled up tight.

But there was another issue too, wasn't there?

"How's the medication treating you?" I asked instead. "We should get your liver enzymes checked soon."

"Huh?" He looked up from his phone, clearly surprised by the question — as if he'd forgotten about his failing liver.

Just then, Zenin Maki and her friends strolled past our table. Okkotsu gave us a quick wave as they passed, and I returned a faint smile.

It was strange. She wasn't with them.

Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her around campus at all since we last crossed paths in the lab.

Satoru's gaze followed them as they scanned the outdoor seating area for a table. His eyes widened, then he quickly stood up. "Sorry, Suguru, I have to go," he said hastily, not giving me any explanation. But I should be used to this by now.

It wasn't the first time.

He was already gone, leaving his coffee cold and abandoned in his wake. I took another long drag of my cigarette, stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray, and reached for my phone.

[12:15 PM] Me: So, Saturday at 9pm? Know a good sports bar if you're into that.

[12:16 PM] Attorney: Sounds good, love sports. Send me the address.

next chapter ->

author's note: i'm so thrilled to hear your thoughts on geto's pov! he's really struggling with gojo and s&c reader being the mess that they are and his feelings in all of it, but don't worry, he'll get his happy ending (with you) too hehe <33

i hope it wasn't too confusing though. this is my first time writing a spin-off, so if you haven't read symptoms and causes, it must be quite confusing at times. but the next chapters will focus less on the s&c reader and more on geto and the r&r reader of course. but i love how i can provide background info for s&c through this story and vice versa :)) & lastly, thank you so much for reading !! your support truly means the world. hope u all have a great day !! <3

🏷️ @nanamis-baker @whereflowerswenttodie @certainlysyko @ri-sa20 @biancaness @roseified @rixo-19 @madaqueue @starmapz @alwaysfreakingout @gojoluvs @totallytatum @shervinss (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future, this way it's easier for me to keep track!)

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without permission. fanart credit. thanks for reading and supporting my work !! ♡

#remedies and reasons #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto fanfic #geto fanficiton #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #suguru geto x reader

[cherryclxud]

Catch me if you can Lord Holmes pt2

(ENOLA HOLMES)!Sherlock x BRIDGERTON! reader

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Description: a writer by the name of Marcus Bradford has taken the Ton by storm with his weekly edition chapter of a crime story, Sherlock is tasked with finding Marcus Bradford and solving the case of the abominable bride. but what if meeting a certain Bridgerton girl distracts him from the case?

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: none

Taglist <3 : @frost-queen @siannaplmn @annesunlight @jolixtreesunn @probabydeadbynow @chloepluto1306 @gayandfairycore @queenfairyfangirl @viylikescats @hipsternerd9 @delusional-4-fake-people

read below for credits.

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SLEEPING AT 221B BAKER STREET USUALLY came easy to Enola. Seeing as there was quite literally very little for her to do, however, for the past 2 nights it has become increasingly difficult for her not to get out of bed and shout at her brother to put the violin down. 

Sherlock was stuck, and Enola could tell by his incessant playing of the violin, the notes he was playing were all gloomy grey. With a sigh, she put her head under the pillow and slammed her hand over it to cover her ears in the hope of respite from the sound. Of course, for the first 4 hours he was playing Enola felt sympathy, but when his playing started to get in the way of her sleep that's when her sympathy towards Sherlock turned to contempt towards the violin. 

She had reached the point where she imagined scenarios of her grabbing scissors and cutting the strings, or of her taking the violin and throwing it out the window.

Somehow the music playing seemed to penetrate through the pillow, making the girl move the pillow, turn to her back and glare at the ceiling. She got up and stomped the the drawing room where her brother sat there playing the insipid instrument. 

“SHERLOCK” she shouted over the music causing her brother to play a wrong note before stopping and turning to her. “Enola? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?” he looked out the window and saw the moon still high in the sky.

Enola crossed her arms while rolling her eyes, “geez Sherlock that's a great idea, i was getting quite tired and had no idea how to remedy it, you have truly opened my eyes” Her voice was full of sarcasm yet Sherlock paid no mind to it as he was distracted.

“Hmm yes well I suppose you should get to it”.

Enola scoffed as she saw her brother pick up the violin about to resume his playing once more “Sherlock! I can't if you insist on playing at this time.” she pointed to the instrument as the older Holmes looked down at it with a sigh.

“Ah, I see, my apologies sister I seemed to have gotten carried away” he places the instrument on its stand before slamming it down on the settee with a sigh and closes his eyes as he continues to think. 

Enola turns around, happy that the peace and quiet has finally infiltrated the home, she goes on her way to her room and just as she was about to go in she stops. She turns to look to her brother, she really felt pity for him at this point, losing sleep over looking for this man who could quite literally be anywhere in England.

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

Sherlock opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at his sister. “Nothing Enola you should go to bed, I promise I won't play anymore”

He watches as his sister walks across the room only stopping at the coffee table to pick up his tobacco pipe and hold it in between her lips in thought. “Oh look at me I'm Sherlock and I must find out everything about everyone yet never let anyone find out anything about me” she spoke in a mock deep voice as she sat next to him.

HE leaned forward and snatched the pipe from her mouth before wiping the mouthpiece with his shirt. Enola watched as he lit the pipe with a match and smoked in silence, a frown etched on his face. She decided to change the subject hoping it would get her brother to open up more about what was bothering him.

“Y/n and i have been writing to each other”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “y/n Bridgerton? The viscount's sister?” Enola nodded 

“Yes we have been speaking since we met Nonestop, she is actually quite amusing.” Enola smiled recounting the letters they both shared. Sherlock rolled his eyes but deep inside was happy that his sister had found someone to be friends with. He was worried that his taking care of her had caused his disinterest in forging real connections with people had spread to her. He didn't want her to lean on him and not connect with anyone else. 

He found himself grateful for y/n's sudden but effective presence in his sister's life.

“She's quite like you, you know?” Enola spoke looking nowhere in particular. This caught Sherlock's attention as he looked back to his sister, “How so?”

“Well for starters she's smart…well not as smart as you, no one as smart as you” Enola rolled her eyes before grabbing a small rubber ball she found lying on the floor and bounced it up and down a few times, “She reads a lot, she told me when her brother would return from oxford for the summer she would take the books he'd read and read and study his essays and annotations” 

Sherlock, who was staring at the floor where the ball was bouncing, chuckled quietly remembering one year at Oxford when Anthony had returned from his stay with his family missing the book he was meant to be studying for the semester and sheets of essays he had worked on during the time off, and how frazzled he was trying to rewrite what he could from memory, only to have it delivered to him with a letter of apology from his sister later that night.

“You know she even read that boring book you wrote on like the two hundred and forty types of tobacco” she offhandedly spoke not noticing her brother's smile dropped “Two hundred and forty-three”

“I believe that that was the only copy sold brother mine,” she smirked

“I'll have you know I sold three copies” he grumbled looking away.

Enola laughed “That's because Mycroft and I each bought a copy in support of you”

Sherlock scoffed and stood up walking to the window and looked outside pretending to be angry at his sister. 

“Oh don't sulk brother you know that doesn't work on me, the print shop refused to print any more copies of your books in advance, that's how bad it did.” She leaned back in her seat with a smirk, “She invited me to breakfast  at Bridgerton house tomorrow, can you take me there?” 

Sherlock turned with a nod “I can drop you off and th-” he stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck him, “what did you just say?”

Enola looked at her brother worried that he was too busy to take her “She invited me for breakfast tomorrow and I wish for you to take me there. If you are busy I can take a carriage so no worri-”

“No no before that”

Enola tried to replay the conversation “I told you not to sulk, then that the book you wrote won't get printed in advance any longer”

Sherlock then turned to face away and walked to his desk that was placed in the drawing room and picked up one of the many newspapers that were turned to page 4, turned to the back of the paper and read down the page till he reached what he was looking for. 

‘Tibalt's Printing Press

5th Northumberland street

London’

Sherlock smiled looking down at the paper, “Of course, Minnie always ends up in the kitchen when she's hungry.”

Enolas eyes turn the the left as she racks her brain trying to think what in the world her brother is going on about, “pardon?”

She watched as her brother scribbled some writing on a piece of paper before marching to his pin board on the wall and sticking a pin through the newspaper set on the last page. He stepped back with a smile, Enola stood up from her seat and walked to her brother's side.

“Sherlock, is everything alright?”

The brother looked at her and nodded “It's perfect, all back on track thanks to your friend,” Enola raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n? How did she help? Wait where are you going this late?” She watched as her brother picked up his coat and the paper he scribbled on. He walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don't worry dear sister, assuming all goes to plan I'll be back in time to take you to break your fast with the Bridgertons, sleep well!” And with that, he walked out of the flat door closing it behind him leaving Enola alone in the drawing room.

With a sigh she blew out the remaining candle that illuminated the room, her eyes stopped at the violin that stood defenceless in the room. A smirk found its way on her face as she looked back at the door making sure her brother wouldn't be back.

………….

THE CANDLE BURNED  LIGHTING ONE corner of y/n's bed-chamber, her eyes fled over words on the page of the book she was reading, a new author writing under the title ‘A Lady’ had written a book named ‘Pride and Prejudice’, y/n was completely infatuated with the idea that the author had so boldly revealed that whoever she was, she was a woman.

Unlike Lady Whistledown, this writer resorted to writing harmless fiction that was incredible to read, and unlike y/n she was courageous enough to reveal she was a female, and yet it was a complete shame in y/n's eyes to see that the books didn't do as well as she thought it deserved. 

She pulled her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the window, sitting on the window seat to be able to look outside easily. It had become her routine to sit at the window every night, therefore to anyone else seeing her wouldn't warrant any suspicion, but y/n wouldn't sleep until something in the scenery outside her window changed.

She just about turns to a new page when from the corner of her eye she sees a light flickering outside her window facing the garden, turning to look outside, she sees the figure of the personal valet of Anthony walking in the garden with a candlelit lantern, stopping mid-walk he turns to her window direction and then blows out his candle.

Y/n gave a smile and blew out her own candle, drowning out the last shred of light in her room, and stood up from her seat, shutting the book and placed it on her dresser. And with that, the valet walked back into the house leaving the girl to go to sleep peacefully.

…….

THE CARRIAGE WHEELS STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE printing shop letting Sherlock step out before paying the driver. The windows were illuminated by the candles inside the print shop, he watched as two men worked on the printing of the weekly newspaper. 

Sherlock walked over to the door of the print shop and tried to push it open only to find it was locked closed, however, the attempt to open it had gained him the attention of the two men who looked at each other before turning to Sherlock.

The older one of the two motioned to the younger man to go deal with him as he went back to work. The younger man rolled his eye as he walked to the door and unlocked it before stepping out to stand face to face with the detective, “You know we don't get many people coming here that don't know how to read, this being a print shop and all”

Sherlock stared blankly, the man then pointed at the sign hanging in the window “It says closed, there I read it for you, come back in the morning” he then walked back inside but as he went to shut the door Sherlock stopped it with his foot causing the man to turn back to him.

“I'm here to find out about Marcus Bradford!”

The man tried to push Sherlock back “If you're a fan then you have no luck here, we only print what we get given.” managing to push Sherlock's foot out he went to slam the door only to once again get stopped but this time by his hand. Once the door was open again then holmes pulled his hand back in pain, shaking it to relieve the soreness.

“I'm a detective, I just have a few questions regarding Mr Bradford and I'll be on my way.”

The printshop employee scratched his chin before motioning for Holmes to follow him inside, he took him to the older man who had previously sent him to deal with the problem.

“Theo? I thought I told you to deal with it” the old man spoke, Theo, however, sighed “yeah well he's a detective, won't leave”

The old man's hands stopped working on the press as he turned to meet Sherlock Holmes’ eye, “Aye, yes I recognise you, you're that Holmes guy, to what do I owe the honour?”

Theo spoke up before Sherlock could “he says he's looking for Bradford, Mr Tibalt.”

“You a fan Mr. Holmes?” Tibalt spoke, prompting Sherlock to glare in his direction.

“I assure you quite the contrary, I have been just tasked with looking into him and his background” Sherlock made sure to walk up to the elder man and stand about a foot away from him, standing taller than him he was trying to add an intimidation factor “I would appreciate your cooperation”

Tibalt stood staring at Sherlock for a good 10 seconds before speaking “I'm not sure if I can actually be of help, I haven't met the man, and neither has Theo, he doesn't deliver the stories himself”

“Then who does?”

“It really depends.”

“On?”

“4 men rotate in delivering the story every week, each one wears a mask so I don't see their faces. They don't say a word, all I get is the story and a letter with instructions on what to do along with the payment.”

Dead end. 

“And when was the last time one of the men?” Sherlock asked.

“About an hour before you graced us with your own presence. He'd be long gone. All I can tell you is I have never met mr Bradford or had any personal contact with him.”

Sherlock nodded in thought, his only chance of unveiling Mr. Bradford had quite literally beat him to the chase. Tibalt turned and faced away from Sherlock grabbing a freshly printed newspaper copy, “I can't help you much about Bradford but I can tell you this” he handed Sherlock the new concept that was due for release in the morning, “Something has changed, he's introducing new characters in the midst of the story, and it's clear that this chapter has shifted it all to focus on this character. I assumed it would interest you seeing as for the past couple of copies he had been facing what I assume is a dry spell of ideas” 

Sherlock looked at Tibalt before opening the paper to page 4, his eyes skimmed over the paper and suddenly stopped in his tracks, “Detective Sherrinford?” He looked up to the print shopkeeper who shrugged his shoulders and turned to get back to printing the rest of the papers.

Understanding that he most likely wouldn't be able to get more information, he left his address and told them to let him know if there were any updates, then thanked them and left to go home.

……..

LONDON WAS BUSTLING THAT MORNING, the weekly paper distribution brought by an onslaught of arguments and opinions about the new chapter in the story. The introduction of the character Detective Sherrinford had brought about mixed feelings.

Some believed that Bradford was losing his touch and was doing what he could to keep the story going, others believed that this was just a long-winded way of Marcus telling them that the real story was about to begin, especially with the way he ended off this week's chapter.

“The game is afoot?” Enola put down the newspaper against her lap, she looked towards Sherlock who sat across from her in the carriage on the way to the Bridgertons. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved the curtains to gauge how far along they were until the house, “A change I presume, seems Marcus Bradford has decided to take the story in a different direction” he replied, there was a tinge of frustration in his voice.

The carriage stopped in front of the Bridgerton house and Sherlock stepped out before helping Enola out next, the footman took them into the house where they were allowed into the drawing room where Anthony, Benedict, Eloise, Gregory and Violet sat. 

Anthony being the first to see them stood up in surprise when he saw the Holmes sibling there, “Lord Holmes what a pleasant surprise this morning” he stood up and walked to them and shook their hands before inviting them further into the drawing room in the direction of his family, “this is my mother.” Violet stood from her seat with a smile, as Sherlock took her hand and placed a light kiss on it, then Anthony introduced the rest of his siblings in the room before turning to Sherlock “To what do I owe this fine visit to Holmes?”

“I invited Enola for breakfast brother” y/n who had just walked into the room spoke as she approached the group. Sherlock watched as she and Enola hugged, then as she turned to him and shook his hand, “Good morning Lord Holmes, it's very nice to see you again”

“Likewise Miss Bridgerton” he nodded to her. “I presume you have read the new chapter out today lord holmes, He added a new character what was his name” y/n put her hand the her chin as she pretended to have forgotten the name which Sherlock could of course detect however decided not to call her out on her actions and played along “detective Sherrinford i presume is the name you are trying to remember miss Bridgerton”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right lord holmes, I'm quite forgetful when it comes to these things” she lied jokingly as she spoke, making a small smile play on Sherlock's own lips.

“It's a shame seeing as the author has now added this character, who is a recluse detective who will possibly that forever to solve a case with already many plotholes, the only way the story can go is down.”

y/ns smile fell for a second but she made sure to replace it quickly enough to not be noticeable, “I don't know, I have come to take quite the liking to Detective Sherrinford, I think he will do great to solve this case, I think this story is getting better” she spoke with a smile.

As Sherlock and y/n spoke no one really paid any mind to them. Anthony and Benedict were busy talking, Enola had struck up a conversation with Eloise and Gregory was reading the story in the paper, and no one was paying them any mind…

But violet, she could see it.

Her daughter never took the time to talk to a man for this long about anything, not even about books or stories there was something there. And she was adamant about helping it grow.

“I don't know lord holmes, I would have thought you’d like the character, I think Sherrinford is exactly like you.” y/n’s words caused Enola and Eloise to look towards them in shock, “y/n! You are completely right, how could I not make that connection earlier myself “Enola spoke as she walked to the pair quickly.

“What are you two on about, the man is nothing like me”

And there stood the three arguing about why Sherrinford is or isn't like Sherlock until inevitably, a maid walked into the drawing room and called out that breakfast was ready.

“I guess this means I should take my leave not, Enola ill pick you up in 3 hours” Just as Sherlock was speaking about leaving, Violet interrupted his farewells “Lord Holmes please do join us for breakfast”

Sherlock just about shook his head and was about to decline before Violet spoke again “I had the cook prepare extra just for you” and with that, he couldn't refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

….

The family and the Holmes siblings filtered into the dining area, Enola and y/n sat next to each other, and just about when Gregory was about to sit next to y/n on her other side, his mother motioned for him to sit elsewhere leaving Sherlock no other seat but that one, not that it really bothered him.

The families started eating and exchanging conversation, the atmosphere was delightful, and Enola was aglow, it had been a long while since she sat down for breakfast with a family seeing as usually she and Sherlock wake up at different times and end up eating anything.

“Lord Sherlock, it really is a pleasure having you and your sister here, I must say I'm surprised I havent seen you in the ton more often, no soirees nor balls” Violet spoke as she cut another piece of the omelette in her plate. Sherlock swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding to Violet “That is indeed true viscountess Bridgerton, I simply haven't found the time to integrate into society, there's too much work and research and clients. In fact it is my fault Enola has yet to debut, I had been meaning to help her this season however i got sidetracked.” 

Violet nodded her face full of sympathy towards the two siblings, it was a known fact around the ton that the Holmes family had lost not one but both parents in the same year, their father had been taken ill for months before suffering through an unfortunately painful exit and their mother had been so in love with him and followed him mere months after due to a broken heart. 

Since then little has been known about the Holmes family, they had become reclusive and barely interacted with the rest of the ton. Sherlock and Enola, who were 9 and 2 at the time, were put under the care and sanction of their older brother Viscount Mycroft who himself was 15. It was like the Holmeses ceased to exist any longer, that was until a few years ago when Viscount Mycroft got married and Sherlock moved out to a flat in Central London, it was widely believed that Sherlock found the Viscount Holmes’ new wife to be unappealing to share a mansion with, sooner or later in a visit back home he decided he would take his younger sister to live with him.

“Well better late than never I say” Violet spoke softly with a smile targeted at Sherlock. Her eyes flicker to y/n who was eating her food quietly while listening to the conversation then back to Sherlock. “you know, there is a soiree tomorrow night at the Dunphrees,”

Anthony stared at his mother in shock understanding what she was doing “Mother!”

Violet of course ignored him knowing Anthony really is only good for ruining her plans. “We shall be attending, I say you should come”

Enola looked up from her plate excited “Oh can we brother, it sounds like so much fun” y/n snorted quickly while holding back a laugh. Sherlock glanced at her before looking to his sister whose eyes was practically begging him, “ Enola you don't had a dress for the occasion and I doubt one can be made in time” 

Y/n smirked as she looked at him, “That is no worry at all lord holmes i have 4 daughters surely I have a couple of dresses to spare that will be her size.” Violet interjected. y/n and Enola looked at each other excitedly, Sherlock's lips pressed together in a semi-frustrated smile before looking at his sister and y/n. Enola looked very excited as she shared a hug with y/n, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Bridgerton girl, he was thankful for her existence in his sister's life, she was in fact a very interesting person to talk to, and maybe having her around would make him feel less guilty over not always being there for his sister. The said Bridgerton girl turned to face Sherlock awaiting his decision, only to be met with his own eyes looking at her, he quickly looked away while clearing his throat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, but this action did not elude Violet’s eyee, she smiled softly at the bashfulness of sherlock.

With a sigh, he nodded albeit quite a bit reluctantly but part of him knew that Enola needed this, and in fact he needed a break, so maybe he needed this too. “I don't see why not, God knows we require a chance for respite.” Enola gleamed at the thought of attending her first soiree tomorrow.

The families continued their breakfast and their endless conversations, many topics including the breach of secrecy of Anthony and Sherlock Oxford days, they even told stories of the Duke of Hastings from their days living together. Enola revealed quite a bit of her childhood activities, and the two siblings shared their distaste for their sister in law, hyacinth chatted about how their elder sister Daphne would have almost been married to the prince of Prussia had it not been for her love for the duke, this conversation managed to segway into Eloise talking about Lady Whistledown and who she may be.

“Speaking of hidden writers,” y/n spoke as she turned to look at Sherlock “How has your hunt for Mr Bradford lord homles, someone of your calibre must have reached some conclusion.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, everyone at the table went quiet actually quite curious about his findings. “Lord Sherlock you found Mr. Marcus Bradford?” Gregory exclaimed, having been quite a fan of the writer's weekly updates. 

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief the detective shook his head “I'm afraid I'm still looking, he has proven to be quite a difficult man to find. I went to the printing shop that prints and distributes the weekly paper, unfortunately, they have no clue who he is either, seems he doesn't deliver the chapters himself for all I know he is on the other side of England.”

y/n’s eyes moved to the side in thought as everyone sighed in frustration expressing their disappointment in the possibility of not knowing the writer behind the book. 

“Well that would make no sense” y/n spoke up causing all eyes to move to her.

“It makes perfect sense miss Bridgerton, there are other places in England a man can live other than Mayfair” Sherlock spoke sarcastically, confused as to why y/n would find such a simple ordeal strange, his words caused both Anthony and Benedict to chuckle.

y/n glared at her brothers then directed her glare to Sherlock “Laugh all you want men, I have a point to make. Tell me Lord Holmes why would a man on the other side of England write a story only for it to be published in Mayfair only? Surely he wants to see the fruits of his labour in person, even if he doesn't take the credit for it.”

“What makes you so sure that the man only has it published in Mayfair and not all over England?” Sherlock spoke, now completely serious, of course, he was quite upset that a point like this could have fled his mind. He had been too busy looking for the man himself when the actual paper held most of the clues he would need anyway. He thought it would be best to listen to y/n seeing as it was her words that triggered him to find the first clue in the first place.

Something told him that she knew much more than she let on about this case.

“Simple. We receive two different newspapers per week, one is the English paper, and the other is the Mayfair weekly paper, and yet the story only appears in the Mayfair weekly. That means your elusive writer is either an idiot-” Violet scolded her daughter for her use of an insult, however y/n brushed it off with an apologetic look aimed at her, before facing Sherlock again “-and is sending a copy of his writing to every separate town and city in England rather than just placing it in the English paper that goes all over England, or he is walking among us here in Mayfair”

The two stared eye to eye for a good 10 seconds in silence that even Colin had to clear his throat to almost ease the tension. Sherlock was the first to speak, “Well deduced Miss Bridgerton, you seemed to have caught on to a point I seemed to have missed” he smirked, “This is the second time, one more time and I may just have to engage you.” y/n’s smile dropped at his words and her face heated up as violet and Enola let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock cleared up his throat and quickly went to fix his wording.

“Engage you in other cases i mean, sometimes I could use an outsider's eye on the matter” he spoke while avoiding y/n’s eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of the teacup in his hands. y/n was in a similar situation but had a small smile that danced on her lips.

“Holmes doesn't jest” y/ns smiled as her eyes shot up to look at Anthony who had made a habit of ruining the moment “Y/n is a young lady and shouldn’t really be exposed to some of the cases you deal with, don't you agree” she glared at him. “And what of it brother? What does my being a lady have to do with a case? It’s not like crime stops when I walk in the room just because I'm a lady.” she spoke while rolling her eyes, she knew her brother meant well but sometimes he was overbearing. 

“y/n-”

“Actually viscount Bridgerton, I completely understand your argument” Sherlock's words caused y/n to look at him disappointed “However as Miss Bridgerton has worded it wonderfully, crime doesn't stop because the fairer sex exists. I truly believe there is no such thing as protecting them from the truth, only hiding the truth. I think Miss Bridgerton would benefit from being challenged by a few questions, no need to see a crime scene herself. I do this with Enola all the time, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.”

Enola quickly nodded at her brother's words in agreement “It's true Lord Bridgerton, it’s quite fun, like solving puzzles, it keeps me occupied and gives me the ability to spend time with Sherlock.”

Violet interjected before Anthony could speak again,” These are quite bold ideas you share lord holmes, not many men would agree with you.”

“And not many women too” Eloise muttered with an eye roll.

But Sherlock kept his resolve and looked to y/n and his sister before looking back to Violet, “Well viscountess Bridgeton, I am quite a fanatic of what many may call strange ideals. I believe that a day will come, when a war will break out,” the whole table gasped in shock at his words, “one half of the human race against the other, the invisible army always standing by the men's shoulder, there has to come a day where us men stand back and view women as equals who deserve respect and demand to be heard”

 “I think it's a wonderful idea lord holmes, you letting y/n help out in your cases that is.” Violet broke the silence as she clasped her two hands together, she met eyes with y/n who smiled at her, she smiled back and gave her daughter a wink.

If he were to be the man her daughter would love, then she would rather back her up than be against her and cause her daughter to abstain from the thought of love or marriage in general.

Gregory sat up excitedly “Lord Holmes! When you do find Mr. Bradford do you think you can get him to sign a copy of his books for me?” 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with a smile at the excitement in his voice “Thats IF, but I don't see why not”

“No, it’s WHEN, Lord Holmes, I’m sure you are much closer to the man than you think” y/n spoke while motioning to Anthony valet to fetch her more tea with a smile. Sherlock looked at the teacup in y/n’s hands in confusion “I’m not sure im any closer to finding him, no one in the ton knows him”

The valet held the teacup as he poured tea for y/n as she spoke “Who says Marcus Bradford is the writer's real name?” it was like clockwork, Sherlock looked at y/n as she spoke, and the teacup slipped out of the valet's hands dropping some of the contents of the cup straight into y/ns lap. Sherlock quickly grabbed a tablecloth from in front of him and started dabbing the tea on her lap, them action caused her eyes to widen and for her to stand up quickly and move away, Anthony and Benedict stood up, both rushing to their sister, countless apologies were spewed from the valet's mouth. It was actually quite chaotic.

“It’s fine, I'm fine” y/n spoke with a nervous smile. “ one of the downsides of being a girl is wearing many layers, though I suppose in this case it is an upside” she let out a giggle while looking at everyone, her eyes moved to the valet who was still apologising “no harm no foul Hudson, I'm fine” 

“I may have to get changed though, Enola,” she turned to face her friend, “Why don't you join me, we can look for a dress for you to wear for tomorrow's soiree”

The younger Holmes got up with a smile and joined her as the two rushed off to y/n’s room.

Everyone returned to their seats and slowly continued on with their conversation, however, Sherlock felt uneasy now in his seat, looking up in front of him his eyes met with Anthony’s eyes, who almost seemed to be glaring back at him.  The eldest Bridgerton brother hadn't missed how Sherlock reacted to the tea dropped on his sister, he wanted to diminish any feelings that may be growing from y/n towards Holmes as fast as possible, to him Sherlock wasn't right for his sister.

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

AN: First of all I am absolutely blown away by the number of likes and requests for tags I have gotten, I love you all, literally thought this story was going to flop. I'm sorry it took a while for the second chapter to come out hopefully next chapter won't take as long. TRULY LIKE WOW.

This chapter has so many easter eggs feel free to let me know which ones you found out through my ask box or comments, and if there is smth you would like me to add in any upcoming chapters let me know too<3

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

I do not own Bridgerton

I do not own Sherlock or Enola Holmes

and I most certainly don't own the abominable bride story

I do not own Sherrinford

they belong to their rightful owners

I only own the fic idea.

#bridgerton #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #bridgerton reader #bridgerton x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #crossover #fanfic #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock #imagine #bridgerton x enola holmes #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader

[endelineinwonderland]

Let The Light In: Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Words: 2K

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, fluff, suggestive scenes.

A/N: WAR IS OVER!!!! Also, it's finals week and I didn't get off work 'till 11 so this really wasn't supposed to happen but here we are I guess! Gonna have to edit this in the morning cause there's no way in hell I'm going to bed after 6 (apologies, but too many sleep-related sacrifices have already been made tonight.) Also, I might be moving to fast but the angst was getting to me as much as y'all so we can save the heart to heart for later, let them fuck it out first.

To love Paige, you have to truly understand her, and you do, as well as you know the back of your hand. Paige often acts impulsively, leaving you to think things through for her, and the last time you neglected this responsibility, she stopped talking to you for a year. You were never going to make that mistake again, and as a result, everything had meticulously planned everything down to the smallest detail.

As you laid in bed next to her, you had been decided it would be in your best interest, and more importantly in Paige’s best interest, to stay away from her. You had run through a million different scenarios, lived out each and every possible outcome in your mind, and this was the only one that made sense long-term, at least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, the timing had worked out perfectly. Paige always got hyper-focused before game days, so your absence hadn’t been noticed. You just had to get through that morning, pretending to be asleep when she had pressed kisses to your cheeks to ‘wake’ you, feigning enthusiasm as she rummaged through your fridge for the ingredients to make the lemon pancakes she "missed so much," and suppressing your tears when you hugged her goodbye, knowing it would be the last time you’d let yourself have her like this. You waved at her with a forced grin as she drove off, and you hadn’t spoken to her since.

When you had to face her again, you had a plan. You had accounted for her coming up to you during halftime; you’d be pleasant, more professional than normal, but not in any noticeable ways. You would just be laying the groundwork for your plan: to slowly drift away.

Paige would never know you had intentionally left her, and the memory of you would be something she could look back upon fondly, an old almost-love-story from her college days.

You hadn’t, however, planned at all for a massive upset, one that would leave Paige practically storming off the court when the fourth-quarter buzzer finally signaled the end of the disastrous game. And you definitely hadn’t planned to receive a call from Ice right after you’d finally wrapped up your work for the night and just tucked yourself into bed. In all honesty, you hadn’t accounted at all for the effect Paige had on you, and your resistance is only so strong.

“Hey, sorry to bother you so late, but is Paige with you?” Ice's voice crackled through the phone, sounding unusually tense. “No, she’s not with me. Why?” The girl on the other end of the line spoke in frantic, hushed tones to someone in the background before finally responding to you, “She hasn’t returned to the dorms since after the presser, we just got back from dinner and we thought she was here, but she’s left her phone in her room and her car is gone. When we realized this we just assumed she'd gone to you.”

Your heart sank. Paige had a tendency to disappear a bit when she didn’t want people to know how she was feeling, but she’d never physically left, normally just opting to shrink in on herself, her smile becoming a little less bright, and her voice piping up fewer and fewer times until she was completely silent, as she would typically remain for the rest of the night, adamantly denying that anything was wrong.

In a knee-jerk reaction, you check her location, silently thanking God for how out of it you had been the days after Paige’s injury, more specifically, that your mutual distress had made you forget to stop sharing your locations. The thanks quickly turned to quiet curses, however, when you see her location displayed atop an outline of her dorm room on the map and Ice’s voice echoed in your mind, “She’s left her phone.” But, before you could close the app, the location of an AirTag speeding rapidly down highway 95 caught your eye. When the two of you had left her car a few nights ago after ice cream, you’d forgotten one of your camera bags, one that had a tag in it.

In the blink of an eye, any former resolve to stay away from the blonde was completely obliterated. You’d never gotten to your car faster.

You couldn't believe you were doing this. After meticulously planning every detail to ensure a seamless, unnoticed exit from Paige's life, you now find yourself racing down the highway at breakneck speeds, chasing a signal from a damn camera bag. You kept your eyes glued to the road, your heart impossibly pounding faster with each mile you covered.

The AirTag's location pinged consistently, a tiny beacon guiding you to her. Your inability to act even vaguely nonchalant about the girl was becoming distressing; any and all thoughts of self-preservation flew out the window as you passed another exit sign. If she were a lighthouse, you’d intentionally steer yourself to crash onto her shores, if just for the sake of being near her.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, the familiar landscape of a lookout point came into view. You exhaled a shaky breath, memories flooding back of the night Paige had brought you here, when you had fallen asleep in her car and woken up hours later—still in her car—just to give her so much shit about it, dumping all your feelings into the vehicle until there was no room left for hers.

You try to stop your racing thoughts as you pull up next to the blonde’s familiar black car, this isn't about you, this is about Paige. An eerie cloak of silence smothering you immediately as you shut off your engine.

There she was, sitting on the hood, her figure silhouetted against the dusky sky. She looked so small, so fragile, and for a moment, you hesitated. But the thought of leaving her alone like this, of sticking to your plan despite everything, seemed unbearable, and even worse, it felt familiar.

You climb out of your car and approach her slowly. Paige didn’t look up, but you know she is aware of your presence. You stop a few feet away, the cool night air wrapping around you both as you struggle to decide what to do.

“Paige,” you call softly.

She turns her head slightly, her eyes meet yours, the complete and utter relief evident in her expression almost making you stumble back. “What are you doing here?” she finally says, her voice barely a whisper. “Ice called me. Said you were missing,” you explain, taking a tentative step closer. “I realized my bag is still in your trunk, so I followed the location tag.” She nods, turning her attention back to the scene in front of her as a sob racks her body, seemingly out of nowhere.

You hurry to her side, standing in front of her, tucking yourself between her long legs hanging off the car hood. “Love, don’t cry,” the term of endearment passing through your lips before you could think to stop it. She wraps herself around you, ankles locked around your hips, and upper body slouched completely into yours. “I let everyone down tonight.” Her voice came through muffled, her head tucked into your shoulder.

Acting on instinct, your hands move to run through her hair, playing gently with the ends before moving to run across her back in a desperate attempt to be comforting with something other than your words, which always seemed to fail you.

“I’m sorry for running away, I realized when I got here that I should probably have stayed with someone, that I needed to be with you, but I left my phone at home, and it’s a long drive back.” Paige catches you off guard.

‘I needed to be with you.’

‘I needed to be with you.’

‘She needs to be with you.’

Finally, after probably a million mental repetitions, it finally clicked: she needs you. Just because she didn’t always want you, doesn’t mean she hasn’t always needed you. Maybe even in the same way you desperately need her. You feel incredibly stupid, all along, has it really been that damn simple? Definitely not you decide, but right now the girl you love, 'the girl who loves you', is hurting and that's enough to make you push anything aside. That conversation can happen later, right now you're going to be there for Paige. You're going to prove to yourself that it's okay for you to be with her.

You lean down to press a tentative kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I’m always so proud of you, P, you know that?” Another whimper leaves her throat as you begin to speak. “I’ve watched you win a million games and lose a few too, but when I look at you, I always feel the exact same, so proud of everything you’ve done that after some games I’ve had to go sit alone in my office because it felt like my heart was going to give out if I stayed near you.” Her grip tightens around you, “I really love you.” The pang that normally hits your chest at these words felt duller than normal as you respond, “I love you too.”

“Tonight was bad.” She breaks the silence after a while. “It wasn’t great, no, but I know you, and I know you won’t tolerate it happening again.” You reply, your hand still running in soothing circles across her back. “I just got so stressed I have no idea why, and the whole team took the hit, it’s not fair.” Her voice is tight; she is close to tears again as you pull yourself back to look at her.

“Baby, what’s going on, why were you stressed?” A small shrug and diverted gaze are all you get in response. “You looked tired, have you been sleeping alright?” Her breath stutters, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’ve just accepted that now that I can sleep next to you again, I’m not going to fare so well on my own.” She replies before leaning down to press the softest kiss possible against your parted lips, testing the waters.

Once again, she catches you off guard with the reminder of just how mutual your longing has been this whole time. “We can drive home, you can stay with me.” You reply when your lips finally leave hers, god you'd missed that feeling more than Paige will ever know, and you love letting yourself feel it. She gives you a small shake of her head. “I’m too tired to drive all the way back, I booked a motel room for the night when I realized.”

Being completely unable to resist an opportunity to stay close to her seemed to be the theme of the night you decide as you reply, “Okay, baby then let’s go there. I can take care of you there.”

The motel was a nondescript, low-slung building off the highway, its neon sign flickering in the night as you pulled into the parking lot behind Paige’s car.

Once in the room, you turned on a dim bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the basic furnishings. Paige sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, waiting to speak until you took a seat beside her, the mattress dipping under your combined weight. Her voice is hesitant, “I know I said I was tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep yet.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you want to do instead, love?” She turns to face you before replying, “I want to not think about that stupid fucking game.”

Your gaze turns to the ancient TV sitting on the dresser beside you. “We could watch something?” You suggest, despite being not entirely convinced the thing was even functional. Her eyes practically roll back into her head, hands moving to cup your cheeks as she mutters, “I want to be distracted, not have a distraction.”

‘Oh.’

Her lips were on yours in an instant. Whatever it is about Paige and kissing you until you couldn’t breathe the second she got you alone in a hotel room would need to be studied further you decide as she moves to push you against the mattress, sinking her body weight onto you. Even if right now this is fueled entirely by her need to forget the night she's had, you’ll take it.

She breaks the kiss. “Is this okay?” ‘She has to be kidding’ you think, some might think the two of you were moving too fast but you know that this has been building up for months if not years. “Paige, this is more than okay.” She grins before tilting your chin up to capture your lips once again.

Her mouth quickly ends up moving down to your neck, planting soft kisses down the base of it before nipping at the skin of your collarbone, most definitely leaving a mark. Your head is spinning; you want her more than anything. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer to you before using her new center of gravity to your advantage, flipping the two of you so you are now resting above her.

Her eyes widen in surprise at your new arrangement, hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her, and her lips parted slightly as she looked up at you, anticipating your next move.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at her, her body spread out beneath you. The sight alone is enough to make your mind race with thoughts that can only be described as downright filthy, and with one particularly vivid image of her chest heaving beneath you, you can't stop yourself. “How many baskets did you get tonight, baby?”

Her face twists into something you didn’t recognize, annoyance perhaps? Distress? “You know I only got four, why’d you feel the need to bring that up right now?” She murmurs, her voice sounding almost ashamed despite how shamelessly her hips were rutting up against yours, begging for more friction.

Unable to resist the urge to feel her you lean down to press a sweet kiss against her pouting lips before pulling back to smile down at her again.

“I bet I can make four feel like a lot.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #paige bueckers angst #fanfic #angst #wbb #Paige Bueckers x reader smut #paige bueckers smut

[avidboafan]

RED THOUGHTS : “GET HIGH IN THE MOONLIGHT”

idol : stoner!han jisung x reader

content : smut | weed usage | oral | fingering | penetration | unsafe sex

summary : your best friend, jisung, offers to take you for a good time. after a while, you can’t resist saying no, but he wants something back in return.

notes : just getting this out here. requests are open! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language (;^_^A)

minors do not interact! 18+ content! nsfw!

a thick grey cloud hung over your head as you watched your best friend, jisung, took a drag of his neatly rolled blunt between his rosy, glossy lips. you watched him worriedly, all those lectures in high school and middle school about how bad drug addictions were playing back in your mind. the head of the blunt burnt orange as he slowly inhaled the foul smelling fumes, exhaling it through his nose and tapping off the blackened ashes of the drug and paper.

“jisung, i think that’s enough, your eyes are turning red,” you lectured with a stern voice, pushing away the hand that held the blunt between his ringed fingers. “it’s supposed to be like that, hot stuff.” jisung chuckled, amused, excess smoke huffing out of his mouth. “you would know if you tried, but you keep turning me down.” he playfully pouted. “cause it’s bad for your health,” you argued back, rolling your eyes.

“suit yourself,” jisung said in a sing-song voice, giving a frisky smirk.

to be honest, you’ve always wanted to try smoking a blunt out, at least once. just to see how it feels like. jisung describes it as entering another dimension, or whatever bullshit he pulls out from his ass. he usually smokes it to get inspiration for his lyrics. and you’ve definitely been needing inspiration lately, ever since your fashion major finals have been leering its ugly head around the corner.

you linger around jisung for a few more moments, thinking through the pros and cons over and over again. maybe once wouldn’t be that bad? it was only one time. just for inspiration for your finals’ designs. that’s it. “maybe i’ll try it. just once.” you hesitate, crossing your arms as jisung’s eyes lit up.

“really? are you for real?” jisung exclaimed doubtfully. you looked at his bloodshot eyes for a moment, twinkling with hope in the dim lighting and reluctantly nodded your head. “i’ll make you a new blunt right now!” jisung smiled, stumbling out of the couch and sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, rolling up the blunt of his weed board and licking the ends, sealing it. he eagerly handed it to you as he drew in more smoke from his own blunt.

“why do you look so eager?” you cock a brow, fingers hesitating as you took it from his fingers. “it’s my first time seeing you get high,” he chuckled and you just couldn’t help the backflips that your stomach did as you heard his voice and his laugh.

“place it in your mouth, i’ll light it for you,” jisung smiled, watching as you placed the blunt in between your plump lips. jisung sat up on the couch again, the cushions dipping as he placed his weight on it, and leaned nearer to you, making the tips of both of the blunts touching each other as he inhaled, burning the weed inside and yours as well.

the tension was thick as you silent dragged on it, feeling the warmth inside of your mouth. after a couple drags, your mind slowly starts getting fuzzy and your eyes bleary. “so?” jisung asked. you stayed quiet, a little out of your headspace.

do you enjoy it?” you nod your head briefly. “glad to know. cause that blunt costed me a pretty penny,” jisung replied, pointing at the blunt as it slowly burned away into a bud. “and you could always thank your best friend for hooking you up with it,” jisung smirked cheekily, indicating some sort of hidden motive.

“what do you want, jisung?” you huffed, noticing the knowing look in his eyes.

jisung paused for a moment, his rationality and fear of rejection slowly coming back before he pushed it away, “i want you.”

—————————

your cheeks heated up immediately as he pushed you down on his unmade bed, lowering his body down, his head straying near your crotch as he unzipped your jeans, pulling down your panties and jeans in one go. your head was so hazy, you didn’t give much of a fight when he spread your legs apart.

“god, your pussy is so fucking cute,” he whined, his eyes staring at your pussy as he prodded at it, spreading it apart. shit. he couldn’t wait to taste your cute fucking cunt.

he delve in, eating you out like a starved madman, licking, kissing, sucking on your clit and hole like you’re the last thing he’ll ever eating. your hand immediately went to hold his permed hair in a futile attempt to stop his from drowning your cunt in his saliva.

his tongue was sticking inside your pussy, almost as if he was trying to make out with your cervix. you could feel the warm and wet muscle contracting and moving around inside your walls, trying to literally taste every inch of you. he then moved on to stimulate your clit, suckling on it as he stuck a finger into your craving, needy hole.

the noises filling the room was almost sickening to listen to as you moaned lewdly. all that was filling your sense was the smell of weed in the air, the sounds of you losing your mind and your squelching cunt, along with jisung’s heavy panting and moans vibrating your already sensitive pussy, and the feeling of pure torture was you felt your clit being abused and treated like a pacifier as your hole drips with jisung’s spit and your arousal as his finger curved into your g-spot, the coldness of his ring adding much more stimulation.

you wanted to cum so badly. but you just couldn’t. the knot in your stomach was tight, but not tight enough to snap and release what you needed. jisung was adamant on helping you reach that high, but it just wasn’t enough. what was missing?

“your dick,” you mumbled out in pleas, pulling on his hair tightly. “please, please, please cum in me, sungie,” you pleaded, feeling your head growing even more fuzzy and lightheaded.

his bloodshot eyes looked at you as he lifted his head, “so greedy,” he comments, as he lifts himself up and pulls you closer to his bulge by your legs. he pulls down his sweats and frees his cock the tight tent in his boxers, quickly shoving it inside your sloppy little cunt before you manage to compose yourself and lose your high.

it fits snugly in your little hole, the arousal coating your walls inviting him in welcomingly. his thumbs circles your clit as he feels himself losing his control as well, quickening his pace as he feels himself growing more and more tired, just wanting an orgasm to hurry and release itself from the both of you. he never felt this needy before. but seeing the way you were so relaxed and calm, uncharacteristic from your usual uptight and moral personality seemed to snap something in him. he wants you to be this relaxed whenever you’re with him. he doesn’t want to be someone that annoys you, he wants to please you. make you happy.

that one final push makes you squirt all around him, your clit throbbing against his thumb as you uncontrollably squirm and squeeze tightly against his cock, turning him even more on. after soaking his dick and torso with your arousal, he pulls his dick from your cunt and pumps it with his fist, whimpering and whining as he cums all over your cunt, watching the spit, arousal and his cum mixing together in a nasty mixture, dripping over your lips.

“we need to get high together more sometimes,” jisung remarks, as he tiredly plops himself right next to you on his bed, panting and gaining his breath. “you were amazing, jisung.” you complimented. “don’t think i’ve ever felt like this with any other guy.” jisung gave your cheek a quick peck, seeing his chance to finally confess.

“maybe.. i’m the right guy?” he points at himself in a teasing manner, but the look in his eyes didn’t feel like he was joking around.

#skz hard thoughts #skz x reader #skz smut #skz imagines #skz thoughts #skz drabbles #skz han #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #han smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut

[cassandracain52]

You made me think about immunocompromised Tim so now you suffer the consequences (my thoughts) :D

Disclaimer: I haven't actually read that particular arc yet - I'll get around to it, I swear! But I do know roughly what happens.

With the whole spleentuation Tim turns the Red Robin costume into what basically amounts to a Hazmat suit. He doesn't actually change much - he goes for full face coverage and introduces some airtight seals. It makes upkeep slightly more laborious and makes him a lot scarier than he wants to be but it's this or risking getting benched for an infection for an unreasonably long time. Bruce returns and doesn't even question the look until he finds older Red Robin costume without the Hazmat qualities and in an attempt of casual bonding asks Tim why he changed it. You can imagine how the rest goes.

Second scenario:

Bruce vanishes before the pandemic, when he returns the family is very careful with like, disinfecting everything and they always have gloves and masks on their person. He writes it off as a side-effect on the pandemic until he realises how much more careful everyone is around Tim

Third scenario:

Tim uses his general lack of an immune system as a way to get out of things he doesn't want to do where there'll be a crowd. Mostly Gala's. Like:

Tim: I'm worried I'll get sick when I go to the opening of the Lexcorps factory we need to make An Appearance at.

Bruce: You went to ComicCon last week, you'll be fine.

Tim: 🥺

And like, what's Bruce going to do? Tim is right he SHOULD be a lot more careful. He SHOULDN'T go to the gala. So he folds like wet paper without fail every time. Tim cuts his public appearances down to an absolute minimum. Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.

Tims coup de resistance (is that the saying) is getting to attend a business meeting virtually because one of the three (3) people there was travelling two weeks ago

4.

Bruce: Tim you should go to sleep staying up this long is not good for your health your immune system will thank you.

Tim: what immune system.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

Tim *chuckles*: I'm in danger.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

5.

Damian sneezes once and refuses to take off his mask for six days straight on the off-chance he'll get Tim sick. He was literally digging through the dusty attic. He is not sick. Tim isn't even around half the time. You don't need to sleep in the mask Damian. DAMIAN.

”Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.” <<<asfghjkl XD this is taking me OUT😭 I never really thought of Tim using this as a “get out of jail free” card but he so would. But only for things he doesn’t want to do. That party of maybe 200 guests at most? Nope sorry can’t do it, too risky. That concert with 50,000+ people? Completely fine

All these scenarios were so fun!! I especially appreciated “What do you mean what immune system.” and Tim just immediately starts sweating bullets cause Oh Did He Forget To Mention That?

and Damian would so be super paranoid to accidentally get Tim sick but also would never admit that because Tim Must Never Know He Worries About Him

Damian wearing a full mask, gloves, and maintaining a ten ft distance at all times because Jon (who has seasonal allergies) sneezed kinda close to him: You’re a disgrace to this family Drake. Do us a favor and die

Tim not falling for this for a second: Uh-huh so can I just- [attempts to take approximately One Step Closer]

Damian rapidly scrambling back: nO I HATE YOU STAY AWAY-

Please feel free to share your thoughts again🤣

#these were so fun #thank you for your contribution #I love asks #ive only gotten two but they’re fun #batfam #tim drake #tims missing spleen #damian wayne #dc comics

[deformedcat]

"do you really wanna die as a virgin, boy?"

Haruto Shimizu (oc) x switch ? incubus male reader

warning: blood mentioned, subby top!1!1, blowjob, boobjob, not proofread,, short

not finished 😔,, listened to will stetson's rabbit hole cover and had this idea but after i wrote the boobjob scene my mind went blank 🧠💣💥

Haruto knew this probably wasn't the best idea.

He had tried doing this countless times before and failed, but who knows he's gonna succeed this time?

..summoning a demon by himself isn't the smartest thing to do, too bad cause he’s gonna do it anyways. (yolo)

Standing in the center of the magic circle he had painted in blood (pig’s blood, he was too much of a pussy to use human blood.), he carefully lit up the candles around the bloody circle.

Opening the magic book he borrowed from the library, Haruto began to chant words in another language. Once he was done, he looked up from his book to see.. nothing.

Safe to say he was disappointed but not surprised, sighing in defeat, he got out of the circle to start cleaning up,,

Suddenly, a gust of wind forcefully opened the window and entered the room blowing out the candle, the room became surrounded with pink mist.

He put an arm in front of his face, backing up from the center of the room. The mist was too thick for him to see, but he's able to make out a dark silhouette of a.. human?

with horns and tails, that is.

“How desperate are you for you to use blood this time?” a deep alluring and sweet voice said, startling Haruto. 

Walking out of the mist reveals you, with dark red horns and tail, wearing clothes that look like they came from Japan edo era.

“d-demon?” Haruto stuttered, you grinned at this and walked closer to him.

“mm.. close.” you successfully trapped him against the wall, towering over the trembling boy.

“I didn't think that it would work..” he muttered, looking up at you in fear.

“mm.. by the look of you, you want something don't you? Perhaps a contract?” you asked.

“huh?” 

“People summon incubus for a reason. so, what do you want?” you ask once again, walking away from Haruto to look around the room. slightly cringing when you see a bucket of blood in the corner of the room

“i-i don't want anything.. wait— did you just say incubus-” poor guy didn't get to finish his sentence before getting cut off by you,

“sex? or something just to please yourself? c’mon, it gotta be something.. don't tell me you summoned me for nothing.” you huffed.

“w-well.. u-um.. I was just.. curious..?”

you looked at Haruto with a blank face, as if you’re saying ‘you're joking, right?’

you saw how Haruto fiddled with his fingers and looked down at the floor, letting out a sigh, you snapped your fingers to grab his attention.

“Well, I suppose there's nothing you’d like. so, I'll go back. bye.”

right before you could summon a portal to go back where you come from, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and mumbled out something,

“yousaidyouwereaincubuscanyoupleasetakemyvirginity”

“what?”

he looks up at you, eyes filled with determination and repeated his words, louder this time.

“please take my virginity!”

“fine.”

so you agreed, thinking this is just another case of ‘pls let me hit plsplsspls im bitchless since birth’

you pushed him down the bed, straddling his waist and marking his jaw and neck while pulling down his pants along with his underwear, slowly stroking his manhood to life.

..for someone small and shy as Haruto, he definitely is packing, you grinned. 

getting off from him, you kneel down to face his dripping cock, softly sucking on the tip while toying with the remainder of the length before taking it all the way to the hilt. you hummed after hearing the other whine, you looks up for the human’s reaction.

Haruto stares at you, his face slightly red and is letting out a few groans and whines, trying his best not to buckle his hips into your mouth.

how cute. you thought to yourself.

deciding to tease him more, you pull off from his cock with a pop, he let out a confused whine at your action,

“hhah what are you-” haruto whined, almost getting up from the bed but was stopped by you when you slide his now wet member between your pecs (manboobs??)

his already red face turned into an even darker shade of red, eyes wide open with his jaw dropped,

“a-ah?!” he stared at his member resting on your chest, his pupils turning into swirls.. is that even possible? I thought that thing only happens in slice of life manga whenever one of the 

“go wild.” you told him, taking his tip back into your mouth, humming when you felt him thrusting his hips between your chest.

you grabbed the base of his member, tugging him into your chest like you would jerk him off.

he didn't last long, you felt him throbbing in your mouth and pulled off right before he could come into your mouth.

white sticky substances spurted out of his member, landing on your chest and some on your lips.

you grinned, swiping your lips with your finger before licking the baby batter.

“salty.”

Haruto was suspiciously quiet, you rose from your feet, crawling back onto the bed and straddling him on his waist. You lightly poked him from the side looking for a reaction.

“Human? Helloooo.. Is post nut clarity that bad for you- woah!” 

He unexpectedly wrapped his arms around you and hid his face into your chest, face clearly red and mumbling nonsense.

“please..”

“mm?” you lift his chin up, holding in your giggle when you see him drooling and tears slowly filling his eyes.

He really reminds you of a puppy.

“please.. want to be inside of you,,"

how can you say no when he's begging so nicely?

a/n me trying to find motivation so i can finish this (soon i hope),, i was stranded in the airport for 4 hours bcos my flight keep delaying and i didnt have any money ww. anyways,, lev lauv laurve

#mayi'swriting— #bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #bttm male reader #sub character #mayi'scharacter— #mayi'srants— #sub male reader #dom male reader #imhungry

[k-aay]

WHAT... MY GIRL?

synopsis :: when their friend confesses to liking a certain someone that they are very familiar with. but they cannot do anything since they're supposed to keep the relationship a secret. and it's someone they'll never let go no matter how close they are. so what do they do in that situation? featuring :: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna (part 2/2)

☆ CHOSO

He sits along the bleachers, watching as you practice with the students and have fun. It's the most beautiful sight: you smiling and laughing while being yourself with others. Seeing that brings a shade of pink to his cheeks, making him feel all warm inside. "Hey," Choso recognizes the voice of his brother beside him. The boy takes a seat beside him, happily admiring the view Choso had seen before. "What's making you so happy today?" Yuji questions. Choso shrugs his shoulders, trying to play cool as he remembers your orders about not telling anyone about your relationship yet. "Nothing."

Being his older brother, Choso noticed everything about Yuji. How he acted when he was embarrassed, upset, happy and as of right now, conflicted. He had something weighing on his mind and Choso spotted that immediately. "What happened?" he breaks the silence, catching Yuji off-guard. He takes a moment to think before sighing. "Okay, you promise you won't tell anyone?" Choso nods his head. "y/n," he speaks, pointing at you. In that moment, the older brother knew what was going on but didn't want to give in to that thought.

He didn't want to admit the fact that his younger sibling had a crush on you. His girlfriend. His partner. "What about her?" he questions, sounding more panicked by the minute. "I like her," Yuji admits. "She's funny, smart and a good person overall!" Of course, Choso knew all of that already. You were everything Yuji described you as and more. He couldn't blame him for falling for you. Even Choso fell head over heels all over again just by the sight of you smiling.

"I know," Choso mumbles shortly after Yuji spoke. "Sorry, I didn't hear you properly. What'd you say?" He could feel a mix of emotions rising but only one of them was clear enough to him: jealousy. "You can't like her. I'm sorry but she's my girlfriend. I don't think I could let go of her so easily."

☆ TOJI

The man watched as his friend, Shiu filled out a few documents lying on the table. Toji knew him well enough that he barely made any mistakes at all. But spilled coffee and papers that were messily completed were all he needed to know to prove that his friend was distracted. Something was on his mind. "The hell is wrong with you?" he asks. "Got a new girlfriend?" Shiu rolls his eyes and continues with his work. "Nothing's wrong with me. And no, I don't have a new girlfriend." Toji lifts his feet and puts them on the nearby coffee table placed in front of him. "Bullshit. Something's wrong."

The sigh that escaped his lips signalled that he was on the edge of venting what was on his mind. "You know the girl that transferred here like a few months ago?" Toji takes a moment to think before something snaps together, "y/n?" Shiu nods his head. "I asked her out the other day but she turned me down and hasn't really spoken to me since." Normally, the man with his feet on the table would've been laughing and teasing his friend about this. This time, seriousness pooled over and left him annoyed and the reason was none other than you. "You asked y/n out?"

Shiu could've been attracted to anyone but of course, it had to be you. With your beautiful face, your intriguing personality and the way you make other people feel. Especially Toji. You made him feel alive in so many different ways no one could ever come close to. "... Yeah?" Shiu answered, causing the other to scoff. "Really, man? You had to ask out my girl?"

"Your girl?" Shiu repeated. "Yes. Don't you ever fucking walk up to her again, alright?"

☆ SUKUNA

He was a lot of things but jealous was never one of them. And he would love to continue that streak. Feeling such a thing for a person he could easily kill? He would rather die himself. You brought him to a party which was, in your opinion, a bad idea now that you really thought about it later on. He was uninterested in everything others did in the crowded place you people called "fun." That's when he saw someone he recognized before while you were chatting with others. They walked up to Sukuna, a blank expression on their face. "Uraume?" he speaks.

"Did you get dragged here too?" they question. Sukuna nods in response, watching as you talk with some guy. "Do you know who that is?" Uraume nods their head, "Yeah. He was running around the entire place earlier and hitting on random women." A feeling within him struck and burned. "Now that I think about it, he did have a thing for y/n." That was more than enough reason to interrupt the chat you were having with this ass. Maybe it was for the reason of your safety, but he couldn't deny the sunken feeling he had in his chest. Jealousy.

It wasn't as bad as he thought. In reality, it gave him a rush. Knowing that you wouldn't dare to be with anyone other than him filled Sukuna with all the reassurance he needed. Also knowing that he could rip off all the limbs of the low-lives who even thought of talking to you to take what was already set as his made his blood boil even more (in a good way?) He stood behind you, placing his arm around your waist.

"Who's your friend here?" he asks carefully, glaring at the so-called "man" in front of him. "Just... someone," you spoke. He lowered his head so his lips reached your ear, "Tell this 'someone' that you have to leave early before he's never seen again."

#jjk x reader #fanfic #fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #angst #jjk imagines #choso #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna

[bruisedleftknee]

Lunch break thoughts :3

Been thinking about big Noah and his small GF a lot lately..

"Are you ever going to get used to it?" Noah says as he teases your hole's entrance with the tip of his cock. He's been doing it for a while now but you keep telling him to give you a a minute and yes he's patient with you but there's a limit to his patience.

Are you ever going to get used to it? And you're not sure, doesn't matter how many times you've taken his cock deep inside you, doesn't matter how soaking wet your cunt is when he slides it in, you don't think you're ever going to get used to it; cause let's be honest, how much length is your body supposed to take in before you feel your guts moving inside you?

"Such a tiny hole for my cock, aren't you?" Noah pushes his thumb inside your cunt, playing with your arousal and spreading it on your core to make your clit wet to play with it. "Look at the mess you're making.." He says looking at the big wet stain on the sheets under you. "I'm sorry" You tell him. "It's okay, I like it when you make a mess" He uses his other hand to grab your boob and knead it gently, "Do you think you're ready for me now? I don't like waiting this long" He asks. "I- I think so" You try relaxing your muscles. "Don't worry, I'm only going to give the tip" He spreads your legs open, "Just the tip.." "Oka-" And before you can finish what you were about to say, he rams all of his length deep into you and you gasp. "C'mon, I know you can take it" He grabs your thighs and spreads your legs more so he can thrust his cock inside you even deeper. You cover your face with your hands and he pulls your hands away from your face, "Look at me, look how good you're taking my cock."

His pace gets so faster and faster, you struggle to keep yourself still. You try to slow down his pace by putting your hands on his lower stomach. "You think that's gonna stop me? You forgot we use our words here?" He says between his breathes that are getting heavier by the second. "Do you want me to stop? C'ome on, say you can't take my cock and you want me to stop," He grabs your neck and squeezes gently. "No, no I can. I promise, please, don't stop" You answer between your breaths. "Good girl," He kisses your forehead, "Taking me so well, every time."

Okay that's all

#bruisedleftknee #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens smut #my fic

[ravenous-enemy]

Ranting about ACD Johnlock because these Victorian husbands need to be happy for me

What the hell happened between Holmes and Watson in 1902 and 1903?

Context: 3GAR is described as happening in July 1902, and ILLU happened in 1902. CREE and BLAN happened in 1903.

In 1902, Holmes and Watson were inseparable.

I don't even need to elaborate when I mention 3GAR. "It was worth a wound" should be enough to remind you of why. I was so touched when I read Holmes seeing his Watson injured and rushing to his side. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. It was amazing to read this seemingly cold, distant, and unemotional man threatening to murder the man who almost killed his best friend. There was loyalty, there was love, and it was beautiful.

According to ILLU, in 1902, they're also frequenting Turkish baths together. (which, I might add, was a common place for homosexual men to gather, do with that knowledge what you may) They're lying side by side on two couches with nothing but a blanket on either of them as they dry off. Watson hears Holmes is injured and nearly passes out, and he rushes to Baker Street to see him as soon as possible. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. He gingerly sits at his bedside to ensure that Holmes is okay. These are all very intimate things to do between friends. Indeed, this even suggests the possibility of the two being lovers.

IMAGINE that. These two are inseparable. Clearly, these two stories help to build on the idea that they love each other (platonically or romantically. To me, they seem romantically involved, but even as friends, they do love each other. It's all up to personal preference.) Their relationship is so strong, more than anything we have seen before. These stories showcase their love for each other and how passionate they are for each other.

Now, flash forward to 1903, when CREE and BLAN take place, and we are given an entirely different narrative. Watson describes himself as one of Holmes's "habits" in CREE, saying he felt as though he was an accessory to Holmes. Their relationship is "peculiar," and he is only called over to Baker Street as some kind of tool Holmes can talk to or use on a case. Holmes can rely on Watson, and he is, in a way, taking advantage of his reliability. Throughout the entire story, we can feel the tension between these two (remember how Watson had to stress over his practice in order to join Holmes on the case, and Holmes seemingly did not care at all). It seems partially resolved by the end, but there is still a feeling of bitterness that was fully apparent to me while I was reading it. It seemed like their interactions were angsty and passive-aggressive.

In BLAN, Watson does not even live with Holmes anymore, around a year after 3GAR and ILLU. Holmes explains he has "deserted" him for a wife, which he described as "the most selfish action I can recall in our years of association." Holmes was alone. In the story, Holmes cannot stop talking about how much he misses "his" Watson.

These four stories have such a sharp contrast. They have been absolutely terrorizing my brain a lot as of late. I feel like them being so close in ILLU, and *the* moment in 3GAR are some of their strongest moments together. They are both so terrified to lose each other. How is it that a year later, according to the canon, they are barely on speaking terms? My question is, if we are to trust the canon dates, what happened during those months that caused them to drift apart so terribly? How could Watson leave his Holmes for a wife so recently after these frightening events?

Another point about this supposed second wife. I don't think she even existed. (I do think Mary was really Watson's wife, and I might've reblogged a post about it somewhere) But about the second wife. As far as I'm aware, she's mentioned one (1) time in one (1) story by Holmes, and it was likely just a ploy by ACD to separate them (oh well, I'll just give him a wife. That'll separate them good enough.) It's easily enough ignored for that reason. Watson was, in fact, away from Baker Stret, but the idea of a wife was, in all probability, just made up by Holmes as an excuse for his absence.

I'd like to add my personal headcanon because the continuity in Sherlock Holmes is actually so messed up. John is called James in one story (TWIS, if you want to see for yourself.) October 9, 1890, is called a Saturday when it was really a Thursday (REDH) There's a story set in 1892, when Holmes was supposedly dead... etc, etc. Given the known unreliability of dates in these stories, would it be so unreasonable to suggest that the dates of the four I have talked about were swapped? That, in fact, CREE and BLAN were a falling out in their relationship and that ILLU and 3GAR was their healing? That the former were set in 1902 and the latter, in 1903? I can understand that after knowing someone and living with them for so many years, you may start to take them for granted. But after you narrowly lose them, you would not do such a thing again. (Especially not only a year after such a traumatic experience!!) Therefore, I believe CREE and BLAN were examples of how their relationship was beginning to fail and were actually set in 1902 (or some other date in the latter days of their relationship), and ILLU and 3GAR were reminders of how much they meant to each other, and they happened in 1903 (or, more simply, a year after CREE and BLAN).

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. I know this is completely incorrigible and nobody's gonna read it but I just wanted to get it out there.

TL;DR: Late Sherlock Holmes canon sucks. No way that they had both near death experiences in 3GAR and ILLU, and less than a year latery they can barely stand each other in CREE and BLAN. My personal headcanon says CREE and BLAN were moments of stress in their relationship and that 3GAR and ILLU happened afterward to remind them of how much they appreciated each other and help reconcile them.

#acd holmes #acd canon #sherlock holmes headcanon #headcanons #sherlock holmes #john watson #this is lowkey angsty #ranting #im actually so pressed about this #canon sherlock #acd sherlock holmes #johnlock #the continuity errors help #if you actually read all this congrats #yippee #wowzers

[grind-pantera]

If reader survived such an accident, he would make sure that whenever she would travel alone, his eagle would accompany her (wether she knew it or not).

I'm almost.... oh my god okay okay okay okay okay listen you tempted me with this i need to do it for the greater good

Noa, Eagle Sun / Reader Headcanons - Interactions.

Your relationship with Eagle Sun started out the same way that the Eagle's relationship was with Noa at the start of the movie. Very rough around the edges, the bird was very unsure of you, not sure how to view your relationship with his Master. He clawed at you a few times out of defense when you got too close to Noa when he was perched on his shoulder; sensing it to be a threat rather than you just wanting to embrace the Ape. You swore that bird was never going to hear the end of it from Noa as he scolded him like a child. ~*You felt so bad for him and tried to pet his beak after Noa told him to back off ( in simple terms ) but he just squawked loudly and you were fast to hide behind Anaya and Soona who were watching the entire thing happen with the utmost amusement. He flapped his wings in your general direction again causing you to cower even further. ~*Followed by more scolding from Noa as he tried his hardest to explain to the bird that you were not a threat, you were more than allowed to be in Noa's space. He just blinked innocently - those little beady eyes staring holes into you.

It didn't take long for him to warm up to you though; you offered him a bit of fish once and he took it graciously. Noa told you not to do that, but you did it anyway.

Began bringing you berries to eat as an acceptance of you, an acknowledgment of the treat you had given him. Noa thought it was nice until he was absolutely nailed between the eyes by a rather quickly flying blueberry.

He began following you happily at that point, surely from Noa's commands, but he was a happy bird regardless. All around the village, in the woods, by the creek. Eagle Sun very often was either over head soaring or perched against a tree branch, you in his sight. ~* It just meant that you were trusted, good natured and more than decent to follow around - Noa had told you how intuitive the birds were and you accepted his following as a small compliment in Eagle form.

If you were with Noa, Eagle Sun was often sitting on his Master's shoulder, peering at you, waiting diligently for a command from Noa. If there were no immediate commands, Eagle Sun would jump over to you, never on you, but right in front of you and beckon you to pet. ~* You comply, placing a pointer and middle finger against the birds head and giving him a small pet. He's responsive, will peck at your fingers for more if you pull away too soon. ~* Noa could have sworn that one time while you were giving some affection to his bird that Eagle Sun looked right at him and almost mocked him. Noa told you of this but you told him it simply wasn't true. That he must have been imagining things.

The first time that Eagle Sun ever landed on you was in part to Noa who urged you to try it out - Hopeful to see if you were comfortable with it. He just got out of a council meeting where the prospect of you getting your own Eagle, to be bonded with an egg, was a hot topic of conversation. First though, before the final decision was made, Noa needed to see if you had any fear ( much like the fear Noa had at the beginning. ) ~* Eagle Sun did not land on your arm like you had hoped - He landed on your shoulder, placing himself rather precariously on you to the point where he shuttered for balance. His tiny claws grasped onto you a bit harder than you would have liked- but not enough to draw blood yet. His tiny beak went down, then back up with a few strands of your hair. You didn't move, you couldn't as your eyes shifted to Noa, Anaya and Soona. You questioned with your eyes what you were supposed to do- You had no idea why he landed there when you had so diligently offered your arm. Well, Noa thinks to himself, at least you're not afraid of him anymore.

#noa #noa x reader #noa pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #emmy writes #a blurb lol #eagle sun

[whosthere54]

It’s time for prison duo and promise rings chat.

Ignore the fact that I included the things in this I’m still in denial /lh/j

It’s not the best but I hope you enjoy reading it anyways <3

-=+=-

<Sherbertquake> Hey, are you busy?

<Centross> No, not at the moment. Why?

<Sherbertquake> I had something I wanted to show you. Meet me up on the Ice above your house?

<Centross> I’ll be there.

They sighed, putting their communicator back in their pocket and running a hand through their messy hair.

“It’ll be fine, yeah?” The things all murmured in agreement, some giving encouragement and some fueling their anxiety. Torn as always.

They reached into their other pocket to fidget with the ring.

“It’s just a promise, I don’t know why I’m so worried about it…” they mumble, pulling the ring out and turning it over in their hands.

It turned out okay. Better than they’d expected actually. They had a lot of time to make it as nice as possible in the world-port, but you can only do so much with Obsidian.

The ring itself was made out of obsidian, winding around some of the old Crystal shards from their wings. One Amethyst and one Gold. They were able to chip it down to make it look decent, though there were still rough edges. The things just said it made it better, clearly handmade. Others said it gave it ✨personality✨ or whatever that’s supposed to mean. The things particularly enjoyed the carving left on the inside, as if he’d even notice it.

“My Soul”

They’d thought about what to put in there a lot, bounding ideas off the empty corridors of the worldport before landing on that one.

They shook the doubts out of their head for the moment taking a breath and putting the ring back in their pocket. They grab their rockets and take off, taking a moment to ground themselves in the feeling of the cool evening air against their face, the feeling of flight sadly unfamiliar after their time in the worldport.

They landed on the snow, their landing now messy despite how much they’d worked to perfect it again. They heard the distant noise of rockets, and turned just as Centross landed beside them. Dark purple with bones rattling against each other as he landed.

“Hey Ic” He lightly hits their arm.

“Hi” they laugh softly batting his hand away. “Just wanted to show you somethin. You got rockets?” They pull their own back out as he nods.

“Okay. We’re gonna head straight…” they turn to face the edge of the mountain. “This way.” They point to where the sun was just visible beyond the horizon.

They fly for a bit, silence between them as they just breathe. Eventually, they reach another snowy area. They landed in an area they’d cleared beforehand. It was nothing fancy, the things suggested a lot of options but they’d agreed on stargazing. They’d set up just a small blanket, lanterns lighting up a small patch creating an area not covered in snow.

Soon enough, they’d settled down on the blanket. Just talking about anything and everything. It was nice, peaceful. It made them almost forget about the anxiety that caused their hands to continue to shake.

After a particularly long moment of calm silence, they say up, turning to him. “I did promise there was a reason I pulled you out here”

Centross smiled, “Oh what, it wasn’t just cause you wanted to spend time with me”

They laugh softly shaking their head. “It’s not like that, you know that.” They fidgeted with their gloves anxiously for a moment before they continued speaking.

“Look, I don’t know how I’m going to say any of this so bear with me okay?” They smile softly. “First, I want to preface this by saying you don’t have to take it. I’m not going to blame you if you don’t want it.”

The things scold them a moment, keeping themselves optimistic.

“With that said,” They pull out the ring from their pocket. “I do want to make a promise.” They fidget with the ring a moment before continuing.

“I don’t want to make this a big thing. I just made this because I thought it would be nice to have a physical reminder that I’m not going anywhere.”

They pause a moment, “You don’t have to take it, this isn’t something I want to force on you or anything like that and it’s not a long term commitment of any kind, no strings attached. It’s just a promise that I care, that you’re “my person” or something like that. That I’m not leaving no matter how much you want to get rid of me.”

They keep their eyes cast down, fidgeting with their hands and not once looking at Centross. After a moment, he carefully takes their hands in his. He lightly squeezed them taking the promise ring out of their hand to look at it before smiling moving to cup his hand against their face, leaning so their foreheads were pressed together.

“You’re an idiot, y’know that?” He murmurs softly, flipping the ring over in his hands again. He runs his finger lightly over the carving on the inside with a soft smile. “And a sap.”

They laugh, muttering a quiet “shut up” moving so their forehead was resting lightly against his shoulder. He hummed softly, moving to put the ring on his hand before carding fingers lightly through their hair.

They sit in silence for a bit, laying against each-other like that.

“You know I meant it when I said you are never alone, friend.” He murmured against their hair. “That’s not goin’ anywhere. I’m not goin’ anywhere Feather.” He laughs softly, “sadly, you’re stuck with me.”

They laughed with him.

They weren’t going to be alone. Not with him, not anymore. They were safe. His arms wrapped around them keeping them grounded, keeping them here.

With him they felt like they could be a person again. They could at-least try to be, if not for themselves for him.

After all, he doesn’t deserve a ghost.

-=+=-

Wow I really did make myself watch taking it down and cry while writing this. It’s fineee.

Hope you enjoy, make sure to drink some water, eat some food, take a break, and take any meds if you need to! You are loved <3

#I really failed the dialogue in this #ignore that #anyways #PRISON DUO AND PROMISE RINGS CHAT #fable smp #icarus morningstar #david centross mistvale #i have so many thoughts #sobbing #sherbertquake56 #centross #i love them sm #you dont even know #I’ve been thinking about this too much #I definitely have a mood board of ring designs shhushhh #they have consumed my every waking thought I haven’t written anything else

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

SORRY - Chapter 5

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

“Here are your winners and the new WWE undisputed tag team champions! Jimmy and Jey, THE USOS!” Dominique spoke into the mic, with a smile on her face. The smile quickly dropped from her face as Jon stormed over to her and pulled her with him, out of the time keeper's area and into the crowd towards the backstage area.

“Jon.. What are you doing?” She asked as she stumbled after him, trying to keep up with his long strides. She was confused, because he was definitely going off script. He was supposed to be out there attacking Randy and Riddle with his brother and cousin.

Jon didn't respond, his jaw clenched as he continued to pull her along. “Hey, what the fuck!” She yelled at him when he pushed her into The Bloodline’s empty locker room, causing her to stumble in her heels. “What is your problem!?"

“You fucking Randy?! Huh! Is that why you won’t forgive me!” Dominique snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“And what if I am? You were definitely gonna fuck that girl last night , oh and don’t get me started on the fact that you spent the night with Trinity.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me Dominque.” He gruffed out as he stalked towards her, backing her into the wall. 

“Ain't nobody playin’ with you. If you can do it, so can I.” She shrugged, not backing down as she stared into his eyes. Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew she was testing his patience and it was working. Jon opened his eyes, his jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his composure.

“Imma ask you one last time.” He muttered as he opened his eyes to look at her. “Are you fuckin’ Orton?"

Dominique rolled her eyes. “No, I'm not like you Jon, I would never cheat on the person I love.” Jon's expression darkened at Dominique's response. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

Jon sucked his teeth just as Joe and Josh walked through the doors. Jon ignored them though, keeping his glare on Dominique. “Stop with that bullshit Dominique. I aint cheat on you and I never will.” 

“What bullshit Jonathan?!” She yelled.  “I have caught you up in TWO bitches faces and you got the nerve to be acting like this because what? Randy was comforting me!” 

“He don’t need to comfort you Dom! Thats my fuckin’ job!” Josh decided to step in between them. 

“Aye, y’all chill out.” He said placing his hand on Jon’s chest, pushing him back from Dominique. 

“I’m chill.” Dominique said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s him, he needs to chill.”  Joe snorted, then held his hands up defensively as she turned her glare to him. 

“Y’all are perfect for eachother,” He muttered as he walked into the bathroom to take a shower. 

“We been together for four fucking years and I’ve never even thought about another woman. I fuck up one time and you won’t let it go. I’m sorry Dominique” He stressed, trying to grab her hands but she swatted him away. Josh shook his head at them and walked out the room to call his wife, he was happy as hell he wasn’t Jon right now. 

“Jonathan, it’s not just one tiny little fuck up. You let that woman into your  space. You let her think that she actually had a chance with you.”  Dominique tried to stop her tears from falling, but she was hurt and angry and looking at his face wasn’t making her feel any better. “And then, you spent the night with your ex? You didn’t come to me, you didn’t try to talk to me, you went to her and I'm supposed to just forgive you?” 

Jon stood there frozen as he watched the tears fall down her face, his heart heavy with the weight of Dominique’s pain that he caused. This was the second time in the four years they had been together that he had made her cry; the first being when he proposed in Paris. 

“If I can take it all back I would Dominique.” Dominique sniffled and wiped her tears away. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” She muttered as Joe walked out the bathroom. “We have a flight to catch, are y’all ready?” Without waiting for a response she walked out of the locker room and towards the writers room to grab her bags. 

Jon watched her walk away as a feeling of hopelessness washed over him. Their relationship was hanging on by a thread and he feared that with every passing moment, that thread was growing thinner and thinner. But he also knew that he couldn't force Dominique to forgive him, couldn't demand her love in return for his apologies.

“Sis, you okay?” Josh asked her as she walked past him. 

“No,” She shrugged, sending him a soft smile. “But I will be.” 

“I know Jon’s my twin, but I'm here for you, aight?” She nodded. 

“Thank you Josh.” 

Back in the locker room Jon groaned and plopped down on the steel chair. “You know I don’t like to get in y’all relationship business.” Joe started, walking closer to his cousin. “But Dominique is the one for you. I mean after you broke up with Trinity and brought Dom around, everyone and I mean everyone was skeptical about y’all relationship. But shit the whole family loves her now. Y’all gotta fix this,” 

"I know, Joe," Jonathan admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "I messed up, big time. I don't know how to fix things with her."

Joe placed a reassuring hand on Jonathan's shoulder, offering him a sympathetic smile. "You just gotta show her, man.”

“Hey” Ishana said as Dom walked in. “You look rough.” Dominique rolled her eyes. 

“I feel rough.” She muttered, walking over and grabbing her luggage. 

“Jon again huh?” Dom nodded and let out a sigh. “So y’all still beefing?” 

“Yes, he seems to think that he can just say sorry and everything will go back to normal.”

“Have you expressed how you feel though? About the whole situation, why you don’t wanna get married?” Dominique sighed and rolled her eyes. 

“Ishana, I don't wanna talk about my problems with Jon right now.” 

Ishana ignored her, “Communication is key, Dom. he’s taking accountability and you need to too.” Dom scoffed but Ishana held her hand up to silence her. “Okay I get it the girl kissed him and yes, he went to Trinity this morning  but to be honest you were looking for a way out of the engagement anyway.”  Dominique's eyes widened. Ishana's words hung in the air, heavy with truth and accusation. Dominique felt a mix of shock and anger rising within her, her mind racing to process what she had just heard. 

“You’re joking right? Now is not the time to be funny.” Dominique said glaring at Ishana. “No, I wasn’t tryna find a way out of my engagement. I wanted to get married to Jon, just not right away.”

Ishana rolled her eyes. 

“Bullshit. Ever since yall got engaged you’ve been picking fights with him and as your best friend it’s time I spoke up and told you about yourself. Yes he fucked up by letting that girl into his personal space but he’s been trying to talk to you, trying to apologize to you but you blocked him, how can he make things right if you’re closing off all communication with him?"

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

Ishana shook her head, not believing how stubborn her best friend was being. “There is no sides, Dom. I want you and Jon to be happy. And in order for that to happen, you need to grow up. Not all marriages end in divorce.” Ishana said, grabbing her pocket book and walking out the room. Dominique stared at the closed door in shock. What the fuck was that?!

Heyyyy... long time no see 😭🫣

I was having second thoughts about this story but talking to @paigereeder i got a second wind and was able to finish this chapter!

Hopefully you guys won't have to wait as long for the next chapter.

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

🏷️: @empressdede @abadbitchblogs @wrestlingprincess80 @harmshake @cyberdejos2

@almondmilkdeinker11 @girlwhogaf @alyyaanna @paigereeder @amandairene88

@skyesthebomb @yana3sworld @mindairy @hllokttysoprtty @christinabae

@tbmotw @rantfandombloggg @jeyusosgirl @southerngirl41 @wooahmiri

@theninthwonder @saintaquarius @raya-hunter01 @rebelrel0987 @feelinuceyy

@qveenmikaelson @black-yn @mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni

@zillasvilla @thatone-girly @xmonetsworld @li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste

@reci1996 @that-one-anxious-mango @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @trashbin-nie @adoreesun

@meggylynnloves @shayaaaaaaa

@tableofthehead @lovelyhunnys @wwelovergirl @meannaim

#wwe #jimmy uso imagine #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso #jimmy uso x fem reader #jimmy uso x black reader #jimmy uso x you #jimmy uso x oc #jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso fic #wwe fanfiction #wwe x black reader #wwe x fem reader #wwe x reader #wwe fic #wwe x black oc #x black reader

[httpseungmxn]

Park Seonghwa Smut Drabble

Idol!Seonghwa x Fan!Reader

authors note; I promise I haven't lost motivation to write! I've just been working on a lot of different ideas and planning fics that I'll hopefully publish for you all soon enough! For now, I give you all a smut drabble of my husband 🤭

Warnings: pwp(very little plot though), piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), fan x idol, reader is referred to as "angel", seonghwa is big compared to reader in both height and size down below 😉 MDNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

Triggers: n/a

How you had gotten into this position was completely unknown to you at the moment seeing as Seonghwa's big dick was turning your pretty brain to complete and utter mush.

You had scored tickets to their New York concert through a bet you had with your boss from work. It was supposed to be you and your best friend but she had grown sick with food poisoning just hours before the concert.

Promising to facetime her and take millions of photos for her. You felt bad leaving her behind at the hotel but you'd feel worse if you hadn't gone to the concert ; and you wouldn't have scored this opportunity.

You see when your boss gifted the tickets, she failed to mention that they were basically front row. You had managed to win a set of expensive tickets to one of the biggest kpop boy groups ever. Was luck finally on your side after many years of troubles?

Seonghwa's smooth, beautiful voice took you from your thoughts. His tip hitting your g-spot repeatedly as his hips slammed against your ass. " you like that, angel? I bet you just love feeling me filling your tight hole. "

He was right. You had never felt so full and fucked-out before. You had only been with a few men in your life but Seonghwa obviously took the cake, not just because he was bigger than the others but because he actually cared about how you were feeling.

From the second you were pulled away from all the other fans, to the minute he was inside of you. Seonghwa was focused on hitting all your spots and making you feel comfortable. You couldn't care less about the position because it felt like no matter what, you'd be limp in his arms from pleasure.

You felt like the luckiest fan ever when Seonghwa's fingers pressed to your clit just as you hit your orgasm causing the pleasure to double. Luck tripling when he hit his orgasm just moments later, plowing his cum deep inside of your tight hole and only stopping his thrusts when he heard you whimper from overstimulation.

" Lets do this again sometime, Angel. I'll need your phone number. "

authors note: had to stop in the middle of writing a few times because I kept getting shy. I know, I know. me, a smut writer, getting shy while writing smut. crazy, yeah? It's just because i've never written for hwa before for reasons such as this. I will definitely be writing for him more in the future though! remember to tell me what you think, and thank you all for all the love! 🫶

#kpop #ateez #ateez atiny #ateez obsession #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #seonghwa kpop #seonghwa #atz seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa ateez #ateez gifs #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshots #ateez smut drabbles #ateez imagines #atz smut #atz #atz x reader #atz imagines #atz Seonghwa x reader #atiny #atz atiny #ateez smut #ateez smau

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Jacked Up Love

part 2

Jack Hughes X Best Friend! Reader

(Brothers Best Friend AU)

a.n: I have been debating whether to add some spice to this but after not seeing it fit my ending yet, it will be in part 4 or 5 instead. this one feels a little short but it's getting the story going until we have our final confrontation. I hope you guys enjoy and please message me if you have any questions or want to be added to the tag list. <3

warnings: flirting, not proofread, fuckboy jack, kissing, cursing, mentions of cheating?

masterlist link

Summary: Hurt and angry, Y/N avoids Jack for most of the night until he confronts her as the party winds down. Just as things are heating up between Y/N and Jack, Lee walks in on Y/N and Jack in an intimate moment.

word count - 4341

...

Jack chuckled as he observed Quinn and his dad bickering good-naturedly over the stove. Quinn kept trying to slather more sauce onto the ribs, much to Jim's exasperation.

"No, no, you're doing it all wrong!" Jim complained, attempting to wrestle the basting brush from Quinn's hand. "You're supposed to let the meat speak for itself, not drown it in that sugary nonsense."

Quinn rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, live a little! Everyone knows the secret to killer ribs is in the sauce dad."

Their playful argument carried across the large house, drawing amused glances from the other partygoers. Jack shook his head, grinning at their antics. He loved these laid-back gatherings in the winter, where everyone could just kick back and enjoy each other's company.

Turning his attention back to Lee, Jack tried to focus on their conversation about the latest Cardinals game. "...and did you see that pass in the third period?" Lee was saying excitedly, his hands waving animatedly as he recounted the highlights of the game. "I thought for sure they were going to score off that turnover."

Luke nodded, taking a swig of his beer. "Yeah, man, that was a close call. But the goalie really stepped up his game tonight. Those saves were unreal."

They continued to chat, their voices rising and falling with the ebb and flow of their enthusiasm. He tried to focus on the words, but a familiar laugh rang out, causing his heart to skip a beat. Jack's attention drifted from Lee's animated play-by-play of the game, his gaze inexorably drawn to where you stood by the dessert table with your girlfriends.

You were laughing at something Mia had said, your eyes sparkling with mirth. Jack watched, transfixed, as you tipped your head back, exposing the smooth column of your throat. Time seemed to slow as he took in the sight of you, the rest of the party fading into the background.

Lee, oblivious to Jack's distraction, continued chattering on about batting averages and on-base percentages. But Jack was only half-listening, his attention continually drawn back to you. "Hey, Jack! Did you catch that insane goal in overtime?"

Jack merely hummed noncommittally, his tone casual. "Yeah, yeah, I saw that. Pretty sick shot."

His gaze traced the curve of your smile, the fullness of your lips. An ache blossomed in his chest, a longing so acute it stole his breath. What would it feel like, he wondered, to have those lips pressed against his own? To trail his fingers along the silken expanse of your skin, to hear you sigh his name in the darkness?

In a trance, Jack's eyes roamed over you, drinking in every detail. The way your dress clung to your curves, the faint smell of your perfume on the jacket he had offered you outside, which of course you had given back covered in your smell. You were a masterpiece, a work of art come to life.

God, you were beautiful.

And then, as if sensing the weight of his stare, you turned. Your eyes met his across the flickering flames, and the world ground to a halt. In that suspended moment, Jack felt a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins, a pull towards you that was almost gravitational.

Your lips curved into a soft, secret smile, and Jack's heart stuttered in his chest. That smile held a thousand unspoken promises, a wealth of possibility that both terrified and thrilled him. He knew he should look away, knew he was treading on dangerous ground. But he was powerless to resist the magnetic allure of your gaze, the siren song of your presence.

Did you have any idea what you did to him? How much he wanted to pull you into his arms, consequences be damned?

He took a swig of his beer, trying to calm the riot of emotions swirling inside him. This was getting out of hand. He needed to get a grip on himself before he did something stupid.

Like confess his feelings for you, the one girl who was absolutely, completely off-limits...

Shaking his head, Jack forced himself to focus on Lee's words, determined to push all thoughts of you from his mind. At least for now.

But deep down, he knew it was futile. Because when it came to you, resistance had always been impossible. And maybe, just maybe... that was starting to feel more thrilling than frightening.

"Right? I thought the puck was going to bounce right off the crossbar, but nope - top shelf, baby!" Lee nodded, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around him.

…

"No, but seriously," Ava said, her face deadpan, "I think I'm going to start a GoFundMe for my boss's fashion sense. It's a tragedy, really. The man needs an intervention."

Sophie snorted. "What, you mean the 'middle-aged dad on vacation' look isn't working for him?"

"Please," you chimed in, grinning, "I've seen actual dads on vacation with better style. He's more like... a cross between a used car salesman and a cruise ship entertainer."

Mia nearly choked on her drink. "Oh my god, I can't unsee it now. The tacky Hawaiian shirts, the ill-fitting khakis..."

"Don't forget the socks with sandals!" Ava added, shuddering dramatically.

You all burst into laughter, the absurdity of the image too much to handle. Your shoulders shook with mirth, tears of hilarity pricking at the corners of your eyes. But then, gradually, you became aware of a prickling sensation on the back of your neck. The unmistakable feeling of being watched, the stare burning into your skin like a physical caress.

Still giggling, you scanned the crowd of faces, trying to catch the culprit. Your gaze flitted from person to person - Uncle Joe by the cooler, Quinn and Jim still arguing over the grill, a group of Lee's friends from college - but no one seemed to be paying you any attention.

Until your eyes locked with a pair of striking blue ones.

Jack.

The laughter died on your lips as your breath caught in your throat. He was staring at you intensely. The old, faded baseball cap perched backwards on his head did little to tame his unruly dark hair, and the worn grey hoodie he wore strained against the muscles of his chest and shoulders.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you drank him in, heat rising unbidden to your cheeks. In that suspended moment, it was as if everyone else simply fell away, leaving only you and Jack, connected by some invisible, unbreakable thread.

But then Lee came into view, saying something to Jack with an easygoing grin. The spell was broken as quickly as it had been cast, uncertainty flooding in to fill the void.

Swallowing hard, you tore your gaze away, only to find Mia watching you with a knowing smirk. Her green eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter, and you knew you'd been caught red-handed.

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your face flame even hotter.

Mia held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I didn't say anything! But seriously, Y/N, when are you going to put that poor boy out of his misery and jump his bones already?"

"Mia!" you hissed, mortified. "It's not... I can't... he's Lee's best friend!"

Sophie rolled her eyes. "So? That doesn't mean you two can't get your freak on. Just think of how hot the sneaking around would be..."

You buried your face in your hands, torn between laughter and abject horror. "I hate you all. You're the worst friends ever."

Ava slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning. "Nah, you love us. And you know we've got your back, no matter what. Even if 'what' is climbing that tall, dark, and broody tree over there like it's your job."

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn't help but dissolve into giggles once more, your heart feeling lighter than it had all evening.

…

You snuggled deeper into the cozy embrace of the blanket, content to simply bask in the company of your friends. Ava, Mia, and Sophie had settled into the chairs around you, the conversation flowing as easily as the alcohol.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself growing increasingly drowsy, the events of the day finally catching up to you. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you had to fight to keep them open. Dimly, you registered Quinn hopping off rib duty, his arm slung around his girlfriend's shoulders as they made their way to the other living room, easily getting swept into his mothers conversation.

A moment later, Lee and Luke disappeared upstairs, their good-natured trash talk about the upcoming NHL game fading as the door swung shut behind them. Suddenly, feeling restless, you stood up - only to sway on your feet, the blanket flopping back down onto the love seat.

The world tilted alarmingly, and for a dizzying second, you were certain you were about to face-plant right into new glass table Ellen had bought.

quick as a flash, strong hands gripped your arms, steadying you. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being tugged down onto a solid, warm lap.

"Hi, Mini," Jack's deep, honeyed voice rumbled in your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Your heart leapt into your throat, a giddy thrill coursing through you at his close proximity. This was the closest you'd been to him all night, and the heat of his body seemed to seep into your very bones.

Tipping your head back, you met his gaze, a slow smile spreading across your face. There was just something about Jack, something that never failed to bring a grin to your lips and a flutter to your pulse.

Whatever it was, you knew you were hopelessly entangled in his web, caught in a pull that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

"Hi yourself," you murmured, your voice coming out breathier than you'd intended. "You come here often?"

Jack's lips quirked, his arms tightening around your waist. "Well, you know me. I never could resist a damsel in distress."

You laughed, swatting at his chest. "My hero. Whatever would I do without you?"

His expression softened, something tender and unguarded flickering in his gaze. "Guess you'll never have to find out, huh?"

Your breath caught at the unspoken promise in his words, the implications hanging heavy in the scant space between you. Suddenly, the air felt charged, electric, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

Awareness prickled over your skin as you stared up at him, your senses hyperattuned to every flex of his fingers on your hip, every hitch in his breathing. The rest of the world seemed to recede, fading into insignificance until there was only this - the crackle of the fire, the pounding of your heart, and the magnetic pull of Jack's eyes on yours.

It would be so easy, you thought hazily, to just lean in and close the distance between you. To finally, finally discover if his lips were as soft as they looked, if he tasted as good as you'd always imagined...

But then a burst of raucous laughter from across the yard shattered the spell, jolting you back to reality. You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized just how close you'd been to kissing your brother's best friend - in full view of everyone, no less.

Clearing your throat, you started to pull away, only for Jack's arms to tighten around you. "Hey," he said softly, his voice low and intimate. "Where do you think you're going?"

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. "I... I should probably go check on Lee upstairs. He gets super sensitive over chel, you know that." It was a flimsy excuse, and from the knowing glint in Jack's eyes, he wasn't buying it for a second. But he loosened his hold, nonetheless, letting you slide off his lap on unsteady legs.

"Hurry back," he murmured, his gaze hot and heavy on your skin. "I'll be waiting."

And as you stumbled away, your pulse racing and your mind awhirl, you couldn't help but wonder...

What the hell had you just gotten yourself into?

You knew you needed to be more careful, needed to keep a tighter rein on your reactions to Jack. The last thing you wanted was for Lee to catch on to the tangle of feelings knotting in your chest.

…

You managed to tear yourself away from the magnetic pull of Jack's presence, mumbling some excuse to your friends about needing to use the bathroom. But instead of heading inside, you found yourself climbing the stairs, drawn by the muffled shouts and laughter emanating from Lee's bedroom.

As you reached the top of the landing, the sounds of aggressive button-mashing and colorful trash talk grew louder, bringing a smile to your face. Some things never changed.

Pushing open the door, you were greeted by the sight of Lee and Luke sprawled out on the floor, controllers in hand, their eyes glued to the giant TV screen. They were in the middle of an intense NHL match, their players zipping across the virtual ice in a blur of motion.

"No, no, no!" Lee yelled, his face scrunched up in concentration as he mashed the buttons frantically. "Don't let him get past you, you idiot!"

Luke cackled, his fingers flying over his own controller. "Too late, bro! That's what you get for picking such a weak-ass team."

Lee let out a growl of frustration as Luke's player scored a goal, the tinny sound of a horn blaring from the speakers. "Lucky shot," he grumbled, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "I'll get you back for that."

"Bring it on, loser," Luke taunted, his grin wide and shit-eating. "I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back."

You leaned against the doorframe, shaking your head in amusement as you watched them bicker and shove at each other like overgrown children. It was moments like these that made you forget all about the stresses and uncertainties of adulthood, transporting you back to simpler times.

"Having fun, boys?" you asked, your voice cutting through their competitive banter.

Two heads swiveled in your direction, identical expressions of surprise on their faces. "Oh, hey, Y/N," Lee said, his annoyance melting into an easy smile. "Didn't see you there."

"Yeah, we were just schooling each other in the art of hockey," Luke chimed in, puffing out his chest. "Wanna see me kick your brother's ass?"

You snorted, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the room. "As much as I'd love to witness that thrashing, I actually came up to see if you guys wanted any snacks. Though from the looks of it, you've already got enough beef to feed a small army."

Lee rolled his eyes, chucking a pillow at your head which you deftly dodged. "Har har, very funny. But yeah, some snacks would be awesome. I'm starving."

"When are you not starving?" you teased, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I swear, you're like a human garbage disposal."

"Hey, I'm a growing boy!" Lee protested, swatting your hand away. "I need my sustenance."

Luke snickered, ducking as Lee tried to smack him with a controller. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy. I think you stopped growing in the eighth grade."

As the two dissolved into another round of good-natured ribbing, you couldn't help but laugh, your heart swelling with fondness for these ridiculous, wonderful boys.

They might drive you crazy sometimes, but moments like these? Where you could just relax and joke around, forgetting about all the complications and uncertainties of the real world?

They were priceless.

So you settled yourself on the bed, content to watch Lee and Luke battle it out on the digital ice, their laughter and trash talk washing over you like a balm.

And for a little while, at least, you let yourself forget about the heat of Jack's gaze, the confusion swirling in your heart.

…

you headed back downstairs, the warmth of your impromptu hangout session with Lee and Luke still buzzing pleasantly under your skin, you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of resolve.

So what if you had some complicated, confusing feelings for Jack? So what if his mere presence sent your pulse racing and your thoughts spiraling into dangerous, uncharted territory? At the end of the day, he was like a brother to you - and that was something you couldn't afford to lose.

Squaring your shoulders, you stepped down into the living room, determined to put some distance between yourself and the magnetic pull of Jack's orbit. You'd just grab another drink, maybe chat with your friends for a bit, and then make some excuse about needing to head home early. Easy peasy.

Ava, Mia, and Sophie were huddled together, their heads bent close as they whispered furiously to each other. The easy laughter and playful banter from earlier had vanished, replaced by a tense, almost electric undercurrent that set your nerves on edge.

"Hey guys," you said cautiously, sinking down into your seat. "What's going on?"

Three pairs of eyes snapped to your face, wide and startled, like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Oh, Y/N! We were just..." Mia trailed off, shooting a panicked look at the other two.

Sophie jumped in, her voice a little too bright, a little too brittle. "We were just talking about... boys. You know, the usual."

But there was something off about her tone, something strained and artificial that set your internal alarms blaring. You'd known these girls long enough to tell when they were hiding something - and right now? They were definitely hiding something.

"Cut the crap, Soph," you said, your gaze flicking between the three of them. "I know you guys better than that. Seriously, what's up? You're starting to freak me out."

"Y/N, we need to talk. It's about Jack."

Your stomach dropped, a cold, creeping dread slithering up your spine at the mention of his name, but you tried to play it cool. "What about him?"

Mia and Sophie exchanged a loaded glance, she nodded encouragingly, their faces grim as Mia spoke up, her voice low and conspiratorial. "We overheard him talking to Luke earlier, and... well, he said some things. About you."

Your mind raced, a thousand possibilities whirling through your head. What could she possibly mean? A cold sense of dread trickled down your spine. "What kind of things?"

Sophie bit her lip, looking uncomfortable. "He was laughing about how easy it was to string you along, how you were just another notch in his bedpost. He even said..." She paused, as if gathering her courage. "He said he had a bet going with his teammates to see how fast he could get you into bed."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs. It couldn't be true. Jack wouldn't... he couldn't...not after tonight.

But even as you tried to deny it, doubt began to creep in, insidious and corrosive. All those moments between you - the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the whispered promises - had they all been a lie? A cruel game played by a master manipulator?

Anger surged through you, hot and bitter, mingling with the sharp sting of betrayal. How could you have been so stupid, so naive?

"I... I need some air," you mumbled, stumbling to your feet and away from the concerned gazes of your friends.

you wove your way through the crowd of laughing, chattering partygoers, a sudden commotion near the edge of the yard caught your attention. Frowning, you craned your neck, trying to get a better look - only for your heart to plummet straight into your stomach.

There, surrounded by his friends near the Christmas tree, was Jack - and he wasn't alone. A tall, stunning brunette was glued to his side, their arms pressed flush against each other as she leaned into him, whispering something in his ear.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you. Hurt, betrayal, and a searing, white-hot jealousy that took your breath away with its intensity.

You watched, frozen, as Jack threw his head back and laughed at something the girl said, throwing his arm over her shoulder. They looked so comfortable together, so natural - like they'd done this a thousand times before.

And just like that, the fragile bubble of denial you'd been clinging to burst, the illusion shattering like glass at your feet.

You were such a fool.

Of course Jack didn't have feelings for you. Of course he saw you as nothing more than his best friend's kid sister, a silly little girl with a hopeless crush. How could you have ever thought otherwise?

For the rest of the night, you did your best to avoid Jack, always keeping him in your peripheral vision but never letting him get too close. Every time you caught a glimpse of his tousled hair or heard the rumble of his deep laugh, your heart clenched painfully, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over you.

But as the party began to wind down and guests started to trickle out, you found yourself cornered by the one person you'd been desperately trying to evade.

"Y/N." Jack's voice was low and urgent as he caught your elbow, spinning you around to face him.

"Nothing," you managed to choke out, your voice cracking traitorously. "I'm fine. I just... I need to go."

But even as you tried to pull away, Jack's grip on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with a desperate sort of urgency. "Wait, please. Just talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

You yanked your arm from his grasp, glaring up at him with all the fury and hurt you could muster. "I have nothing to say to you, Jack."

His brow furrowed, confusion etched across his unfairly handsome features. "What's going on? You've been avoiding me all night. Did I... did I do something wrong?"

"Why do you care?" you spat, the words bitter and acidic on your tongue. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your girlfriend over there?" Jack blinked, a flicker of confusion passing over his stupidly handsome face. A harsh, bitter laugh tore from your throat. "Don't play dumb, Jack. I know all about your little bet. About how I'm just another checkmark to you."

Jack's eyes widened, shock and disbelief warring on his face. "What? Y/N, that's insane. I would never... who told you that?"

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest like a shield. "Does it matter? The point is, I know the truth now. I know what kind of guy you really are."

He took a step closer, crowding into your personal space, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. "The truth? The truth is that I'm crazy about you, Y/N. I have been for years." Your heart stuttered in your chest, a traitorous flutter of hope sparking to life. "That girl... she's just a friend. I swear. There's nothing going on between us," he insisted, his voice low and fervent.

One hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made you ache. "I could never lie to you, Y/N. You're... you're everything to me."

You wanted to believe him. God, how you wanted to believe him. But the seeds of doubt had already taken root, twisting your thoughts into knots.

"I don't... I can't..." you whispered, hating the way your voice shook.

Jack's other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against the solid warmth of his body. "Then let me prove it to you," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."

And then his mouth was on yours, fierce and desperate and achingly perfect, his kiss searing away every last shred of resistance. You melted into him, a broken moan rising in your throat as his tongue swept over yours, claiming and possessing and branding you as his own.

The kiss was electric, a live wire igniting every nerve ending in your body until you felt like you might burst into flames right then and there. His hands slid into your hair, his fingers tangling in the silky strands as he angled your head, deepening the kiss until you were drowning in him, lost to everything but the heat of his touch and the sweet, dark bliss of his mouth on yours.

"It's you, Y/N," he rasped, his voice low and raw with emotion. "It's always been you." 😉

just as you were losing yourself completely in his embrace, a familiar voice cut through the haze of desire, shattering the intimate bubble you'd created. "Where's Y/N?" Lee called out, his footsteps echoing on the stairs.

You and Jack froze, your lips still locked together, your bodies intertwined. What were you doing? Making out with your brother's best friend, in the middle of a party, where anyone could see you...

Jack sensed your sudden tension, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with arousal, but there was a softness there too, a tenderness that made your heart ache.

"Shit," you muttered. Your mind raced, frantically searching for an excuse, any excuse. "I… I'll just tell him I was in the bathroom or we were just talking," you whispered, straightening your clothes with shaking hands.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair back from your face. "It's okay. We don't have to hide."

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. "But Lee... what if he..."

"What if I what?" Lee's voice was closer now, just on the other side of the door.

Your heart lodged in your throat, fear and guilt and a desperate, wild hope all tangling together in your chest. This was it. The moment of truth. Once Lee walked through that door, there would be no going back.

...

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