#the graphics for this still look really rough but hey

[storm-driver]

every fucking day this line gets funnier

#kingdom hearts #missing link spoilers #the graphics for this still look really rough but hey #its a good start

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 12

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 15.7 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature and dark themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst w happy ending, family drama, panic attacks, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hey u pretty people !! hope you're all doing amazing and having the absolute best day. we're back with more drama, messy feelings, and all that good stuff. also, i've updated the trigger warnings (nothing too heavy, promise), but just a heads up that we'll be dealing with some family drama and grief in this one. as always, can't wait to hear what you guys think & thanks for reading and for your amazing support (art by yamada_souko) <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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You're a slut.

The words hammered in your skull, matching the aneurysm's grotesque pulse in front of you. Another scalpel slipped into Suguru's waiting hand. Your hands moved mechanically, muscle memory guiding them more than conscious thought.

Normally, that aneurysm would thrill you, excite you, make your pulse quicken. Now, it felt oddly muted. Irrelevant compared to your spiraling thoughts.

You hate him.

You should hate him.

With every fiber of your being, you should despise him.

He pushed you away, again and again, even after that night — after you spilled your heart at his feet. He chose the pills, the numbing haze, the false comfort, the self-serving lies — his fear.

In the end he chose his addiction over fighting against it alongside you. His addiction had won out over the fragile connection you shared — had won over you. 

And that was a bitter pill to swallow.

He made his choice.

And you made yours — to get space, give him space, give it all some space — time — whatever this damn situation needed, you tried to give it, even though it felt like carving out pieces of yourself.

You didn't know it anymore, simply didn't know what was right anymore.

It had been weeks, but the memory of finding him, barely breathing on his bathroom floor, lingered as a physical ache within you. That image refused to fade. 

It was a wound time couldn't heal, a brutal reminder of his choice, of your own, of the love that had become a war you weren't sure you could win.

You weren't sure of anything anymore.

But one thing way painfully clear. Whatever you did, it was all just really a futile, desperate attempt to patch the gaping hole he'd ripped in your heart.

But how could you?

How could you stay away, act indifferent, when every second burned without him?

He's probably high right now, swallowing a pill, grading papers like the perfect professor, so damn good at pretending he has it together while crumbling beneath the surface.

Back to his routine of fake control.

But he has no control.

None.

Forget him. You shouldn't think that. It has to be possible, right? Somehow, forgetting someone must be possible, right? Erasing the memory of him from your veins, from every damn breath you take?

Because if not — how could you possibly go on?

Cruel memories flayed you open. His hand against your cheek, the touch so gentle it made something inside you crumble, even after he literally insulted you in the worst ways possible while fucking you.

But still, the way he'd look at you after — there was a flicker of something desperate and broken burning in his eyes, before he slammed that damn false smile back into place. Your heart clenched at the very thought of it, a fist squeezing something vital and already dead.

But the truth is, you didn't really hate him. No, not really.

Because how could you?

How could you hate him for trying to fix things the only way he knew how?

No.

Not really.

He was a coward, too scared to face his fears, too weak to choose fighting alongside you over the fleeting comfort of his addiction.

No, it was not hatred.

Understanding him made it worse. It twisted the knife deeper, making the hatred you clung to feel empty, useless, leaving only the bitter sting of disappointment.

Somehow, knowing someone's damage made them less a monster, more a tragedy.

Unfair, isn't it?

Because hating him would be easier.

"You okay?" Suguru's voice broke through your haze.

"I'm fine." Zoning out while someone's life hung in the balance was a new low, even for you. You met his gaze. "Sorry."

The stark reality of the situation slammed back into focus. The aneurysm, a grotesque bulge on the screen, pulsed tauntingly. Suguru's skilled hands steadied the fragile tissue around it.

"Want to continue?"

You blinked, unsure if he was joking. "You want me to clip it?"

"It's a gift."

"Gift? From who?"

Suguru arched an eyebrow, a silent answer. Of course. This was Satoru's doing. It was his way, wasn't it? Speaking of unconventional presents. 

But he undoubtedly knew you.

Before you could fully process, Suguru added. "And because I trust you. I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

Your gaze was drawn back to the aneurysm. "Okay," you said, the decision settling with surprising ease.

You slid into place in front of the surgical microscope. Suguru moved just behind you to monitor your movements. You took a deep breath, the instruments feeling strangely cold and foreign in your hands.

"Focus," Suguru's low voice rumbled close beside you. "You've got this."

Somehow, with the clip in your hand, the delicate aneurism between your hands, you wondered if Satoru was right — if you loved the thrill of it all — if him and you were the same. 

If that maddening fascination bound you together.

Because as you stared down at the aneurysm, you couldn't deny it — the rush, the adrenaline surge that came from defying death, the intoxicating high of existing on the razor's edge, it was all there, coursing through your veins. 

Were you reckless? 

Satoru's accusation echoed in your mind.

Yet, with each precise maneuver, the thrill intensified. There was a sick satisfaction in holding that much power, in the knowledge that one wrong move and this fragile existence could be snuffed out in an instant.

Here, in the sterile confines of the operating room, adrenaline replaced oxygen. 

And it was undeniably addictive.

Too bad it wasn't enough for Satoru.

"Suguru," you began, your words barely a whisper as you meticulously guided the clip, "do you ever think I'm...reckless?"

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

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

With a satisfying click, the clip snapped shut.

─── ·✧· ───

The water was unusual frigid against your skin.

Suguru scrubbed his hands beside you, the methodical rasp of skin on skin a familiar sound a in the echoing washroom. Finally, he spoke. "I'm proud of you."

"Huh?" You turned to him.

"How far you've come. Really, you're doing a great job. With the surgery, the research—you have a great future ahead of you."

He meant it kindly, you knew. But his words made your stomach churn. A bright, promising future was the last thing on your mind. Surviving the next hour, the next day, that was your only focus. You mustered a weak smile in response and adverted your gaze.

"How are you doing? Really?"

You couldn't meet his gaze. "Holding up. Somehow."

He observed you. You could feel his concerned gaze on your skin without having to turn your head.

"New semester treating you okay?"

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

"Listen, if you need any help—"

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

You turned and reached for a towel, desperately needing to put something, anything, between you and his pitying gaze.

He paused, then shut off his own water with a sigh. "I'm sorry things turned out like this for you," he said, and you hated the sincerity in his voice. "But it's for the best, for him and for you. We did what we had to."

We?

"Wait, what do you mean?"

Suguru reached for a towel. "Hm?"

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

He froze mid-movement, jaw tightening.

Your stomach twisted. Something in his silence, in the way he wouldn't meet your gaze—

Your hands braced against the sink, knuckles white against the cold porcelain. "What did you and Satoru talk about that night? The night before the hearing? I know he was with you."

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

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

Suguru's silence was the loudest answer, the pity in his eyes a searing poison. With a sickening clarity, it all fell into place — Satoru's sudden surrender, the way he'd looked at you in the hearing, empty and broken.

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

"Isn't it obvious?" he said, the cruelty finally unveiled. "I told him to end this. That it would destroy you, and that he should take responsibility for once!"

The ground tilted.

He'd convinced Satoru to let you go.

He'd single-handedly shattered the fragile trust you'd clawed back with Satoru, the possibility of fighting this together — gone. All it took was Suguru to destroy it all.

Betrayal burned in your throat.

Satoru may have wielded the knife, but Suguru had guided his hand.

"You had no right," you choked out. "You had no fucking right to do that!"

"No right?" Suguru's voice rose to match yours. "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!" you shouted. "I almost had him trusting me enough, trusting us enough, to let me help him, damn it!"

"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 spat the words, raw and dripping with fury. It masked the deeper ache, the knowledge that he wasn't entirely wrong. "You ruined everything!"

Suguru's jaw tightened. He moved closer, his imposing presence forcing you back a pace. "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."

Your retreat ended abruptly, your back hitting the cool porcelain of the sink. He remained close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand reached out, a single fingertip tracing your jawline in a gesture at odds with the harshness of his words.

"This is for the best," he insisted, his voice rough. "You're young, brilliant. This—relationship with Satoru, it would have ruined you."

"Don't you dare," you hissed, slapping his 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—" he trailed off, his voice softening. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"Why are you saying this now?"

"You know damn well why."

His words hung in the air, suffocating, sour.

Months of shared research, of seeing Suguru as a mentor, then a friend—

Suguru destroying your fragile connection with Satoru felt like an unforgivable violation. You knew it wasn't just him. But the pain of it all was too much, clouding your thoughts.

You slowly shook your head, unwilling to accept what he just said, unwilling to even comprehend the implications.

"No," you forced the word out. "You can't—"

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me that."

Then, a sharp beep shattered the suffocating tension. Suguru swore under his breath, retrieving his pager. His face went taut as he read the message.

"What is it?"

"Yaga," he said. "Wants to see us. Now."

He met your gaze, dread coiling in your gut. This couldn't be good.

"Why?"

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

─── ·✧· ───

"You want me to redo a study that was completely pointless?" 

Your question rang through the oppressive silence of Yaga's office. Suguru sat beside you, but his presence offered no comfort against Yaga's piercing gaze.

Your fingers clawed into the paper files in front of you. 

Useless words, wasted effort. 

You didn't need to reread them. They were your own words, your own data after all. Your own carefully crafted research project. But it led nowhere. Insignificant results. Pointless.

The pain that these papers in your hand causes was sharper than any scalpel, a wound no surgery could mend. Because this research was fueled by grief. Grief for your father, lost to the cruel, invasive brain tumor that now mocked you from the pages. 

But it was this very research that had gotten you here. 

It caught Suguru's attention, led to his mentorship, and through him — to Satoru. How perverse that your most agonizing vulnerability had opened this door, led you to a love that felt as cursed as your research.

Cruel.

Being forced to revisit this failure, now of all times — it felt like a cruel joke. Your life, it seemed, was a master of cruelty, stripping you bare then pouring acid on the raw wounds.

"Yes," Yaga's voice was devoid of any empathy.

"The results were inconclusive. A dead end," you said.

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

You glanced at Suguru. The flicker of regret in his eyes was another betrayal you cataloged for later. Facing Yaga again, you tightened your grip on the file until your knuckles ached. You slammed it shut, fighting the urge to tear it to shreds.

"That's not the point. 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." He paused. "Her husband recently succumbed to this very type of tumor."

My god.

Cold sweat broke out on your skin. You remembered the woman's worried face at the conference, her desperate hope when she learned of your past work. It had felt like a punch to the gut even then, reopening the wound of your own loss. 

Now, her raw grief had been weaponized, a pawn in Yaga's game of securing funding.

A bitter laugh threatened to escape your lips. Research meant nothing to these people. You were but a tool, a means to an end, another cog in their merciless machine. You wanted to scream, to expose their hypocrisy, to rip apart the facade of noble intentions that veiled their greed.

But what would it change? 

Would it expose their callousness, their blatant abuse of a grieving woman? 

No, they held the power.

Maybe Suguru and Satoru weren't so wrong, after all — research, even here, was just another business at its core, tainted by ambition and the pursuit of profit. It made you sick.

"You want to use me to exploit a grieving woman just to line your pockets?"

Yaga leaned back, momentarily taken aback by your bluntness. An arrogant rebuttal was undoubtedly forming on his lips, when the door crashed open.

Satoru stormed in, his fury barely contained. "What the hell is going on here?"

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

Satoru moved swiftly to stand beside you, his hand settling on the back of your chair. "Cut the bullshit, Yaga," he spat. "This is a new low, even for you. Forcing a student, exploiting a grieving widow—have you no shame?"

"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." He leaned forward, eyes blazing. "What the hell happened to you, Yaga?"

Yaga mirrored his stance, the tension between them a storm about to break. "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."

Suguru, sensing the impending explosion, stepped between them with forced 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."

Satoru laughed. "Free rein? Or free rein to do as you please? Despicable, Yaga. Truly despicable." He paused, the rage in his voice barely contained. "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, the veneer of civility 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?"

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

"Don't. Do. This." Satoru leaned in, his voice a dangerous quiet. "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."

"Director, Dr. Gojo has a point. This research will be a massive distraction. Her studies should be her priority," Suguru stepped in.

"Yes," Yaga drawled. "I heard about her recent...setbacks." He opened his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. "A failed practical exam, a theoretical test barely passed. And this isn't the first time, is it?"

His gaze fixed on you over his glasses as he turned the screen, revealing your student record, the failing grades glowing a damning red. "Tell me, which subject would you like to miraculously pass? A click of my fingers, and it's done."

The room imploded. 

Satoru's grip on the chair threatened to split the wood. "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."

Suguru shot to his feet, a rare crack in his composure. "Yaga, this is beyond the pale! This blatant manipulation—"

But the words were already forming in your mouth, driven by a bone-deep weariness. "I'll do it," you declared, the words surprisingly firm. "I'll work on the research."

The room fell silent, every eye fixed on you. 

It felt awful to give in, but with everything going on, it was just too much — giving in was easier for now.

There were other battles to save your strength for. And the battlefield of Satoru's furrowed brow and those piercing blue eyes that bore into you was a battlefield that already took all your strength.

Someone needed to be practical here, and that wouldn't be him.

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

This week?

"No," Satoru interjected. "That is not up for debate. We start next week."

Surprise flickered across Yaga's face, quickly replaced by irritation. Even Suguru seemed taken aback by Satoru's sudden defiance.

"This week," Yaga repeated.

"Next week. Or I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new star surgeon."

He wouldn't. He couldn't possibly—could he?

Satoru couldn't know about your father's death day — the reason why starting this week was unthinkable. You didn't tell him. But why, then, was he so vehemently pushing back?

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

"And if we find nothing? Months, years, wasted on a dead-end?" Suguru asked.

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

"Of course," Satoru spat.

"Well, look at the bright side, Dr. Gojo. I just approved that fancy new CT scanner for the ER. Isn't that what you've been whining about?" Yaga's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Finally found some spare change in the budget, did we?"

"You fucking bastard," Satoru hissed.

"Everyone has to play their role, Gojo."

The air in the room turned to lead. 

You couldn't breathe. The walls of Yaga's office seemed to close in, suffocating. It had been the right decision, perhaps the only one — a tactical retreat. But why the hell was it so hard to breathe then?

It was just too much. 

Too many battles, too many impossible choices. 

Your father's memory, a constant ache turned into a weapon used against you. Yaga's insatiable ambition crushing you. And Satoru—

But worst of all was the gnawing, unyielding guilt underneath it all — that by returning to this research, you were betraying your own principles, the memory of the very person who had inspired you to pursue this path in the first place.

Your vision became blurry. 

You desperately needed to escape. "If you'll excuse me," you managed. With that, you turned and fled Yaga's office, barely registering the startled faces of the men left behind.

─── ·✧· ───

You needed air, distance, anything to clear your head.

The hallway became a suffocating tunnel. Students and staff blurred past, mere obstacles in your path. Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"Wait!" Satoru's voice, his footsteps echoing behind you .

Bursting out into the courtyard, you gasped for air. Rain a harsh slap against your skin. Blurred shapes of green and gray whipped past as you ran. You didn't care where you were going, just that you were getting away. 

Away from Yaga, away from the project, away from the crushing weight of it all.

Satoru called your name. Barely heard him. Legs burning, lungs screaming, but you pushed, ran. You wouldn't stop. Couldn't. Didn't want to see him — not now.

Somehow, you found yourself in an unfamiliar part of campus, and then — a wall. Looming, brutal. A dead end.

Sobs tore from your throat. You were cornered.

This is where it all led, isn't it?

Failure. 

Betrayal. 

And the sickening knowledge that you were complicit in your own downfall.

And with Satoru's relentless pursuit, the final, crushing blow would soon fall. His concern, his pity, would be the last straw, shattering what little remained of your composure.

"Please—" His voice was close now. 

Your eyes slammed shut, but it did nothing to drown out his voice, the panic. Rain plastered your hair to your face, soaking you to the skin.

Satoru paused, a few feet away.

"Just leave me alone, Satoru. Please, I can't—can't—" The words dissolved into another ragged sob.

"I know, but I'm here." He took a step closer, and panic flared within you.

Your world narrowed. The panic attack was inevitable. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale a struggle against the invisible constrictor squeezing the life out of you. Your icy fingers trembled, useless and numb.

No. 

No.

No.

No. 

This couldn't happen. 

Not here, not now. 

Yet, your body betrayed you.

Without conscious thought, you simply sunk down onto the rain-soaked concrete. Your hand pressed against your chest, a desperate attempt to quell the frantic thudding of your heart, a frantic plea for it to slow, to obey.

Satoru crouched before you, the rain dripping from his white hair. Then the weight of his warm jacket settled over your shoulders as you choked on another breath.

"I...I just need..." Your voice cracked. "Need to sit. Can we just...just sit for a second?"

"Yes. Of course. Whatever you need."

He didn't touch you, didn't offer empty promises. He simply held the jacket over your head like a shelter, shielding you as best he could against the downpour. His own white shirt clung to him, soaked through.

His gaze, those impossibly blue eyes, never wavered. You felt exposed, like your every broken piece was on agonizing display for him to witness. It was unbearable.

You hated it.

Hated him for seeing you like this. 

Hated that he refused to look away. 

Suddenly, his hand covered yours, gently pressing it flat against the hard plane of his chest. You inhaled sharply, but then felt the calm rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.

"Focus on me," he whispered. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

You struggled to pull air into your burning lungs. His steady breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the drenched shirt, became a desperate focus.

Slowly, with each ragged breath, the crushing weight of panic slowly began to ease. Your racing heart slowed, though your body still trembled. You weren't sure how long you sat there, just you and Satoru, in the downpour. 

As the tears subsided, as the world finally stopped spinning, you felt the faintest flicker of something akin to calm. Not the absence of pain, but the strange feeling of calm, of home — something you always felt with him.

Bittersweet resignation to the absurdity of it all washed over you. 

All his attempts to distance himself, to push you away — and here you were, thrown together once again by forces far beyond your control. You hadn't sought this, hadn't chased after him. Yet, life it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

Work together, fall apart, suffer, repeat.

A bitter laugh escaped you.

His gaze was on you, wary, perhaps gauging whether the weight of it all had pushed you beyond the brink of sanity, whether you'd been broken beyond repair — whether he was the one responsible for all this.

"Pointless, wasn't it?" 

"What?"

"All that effort of yours. Pushing me away, only to end up here. Back to square one. Stuck on this damned project, pretending we don't want to fuck each other on the lab table."

His brow furrowed. "Are you losing your mind?"

You tilted your head, considering the question. "Tell me, was it easier? Loosing me, breaking my heart, than facing whatever it is that terrifies you about being with me?"

Silence fell.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I thought it would be, but now, I'm not so sure anymore."

Your breath hitched, the first inhale that didn't feel like a shard of glass cutting into your lungs. "We can do this, right?"

"We can try, if you want to" he said, his voice thick. "Suguru and I—we can handle most of it—"

"No. I mean, we can do this. Together. Work side by side, like professionals."

"We have to try." He swallowed, a muscle in his jaw working. "If you want me to...I can stay behind the scenes. Crunch data, Suguru can lead in the field—"

"No. No shortcuts. We do this together, all of us. You, me, Suguru."

"But you don't have to. You're a student. This mess...it's not yours to clean up."

"You think I can't handle it?"

Hypocritical, maybe, after your breakdown, but you didn't want his protection, not in this way. You wanted to fight your own battles, for better or worse. Stubborn pride — a desperate denial of how the grief, the unrelenting struggle, chipped away at you.

Perhaps he saw that, saw the fragility behind your brittle facade. Yet, his concern felt like a form of surrender — an acknowledgment that you were both fighting losing battles.

Satoru sighed, his hand raking through his soaked hair. "No, damn it, that's not it. I just—hate the idea of you having to—"

"And you always get to decide for me, right?" 

His reaction was immediate. Hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze, the touch surprisingly gentle. "You infuriating, stubborn woman. Stop trying to play the goddamn martyr. For once, just let me help you."

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" 

His grip tightened, a flicker of anger replacing the worry. "This isn't the same. You're not me. Sukuna's fucked-up game, Yaga's ambitions, this whole mess—none of it is yours to bear."

"You're right, we're not the same, no," you snapped. "I don't run when things get hard."

"God, you're so full of it! Your precious ego won't let you admit you need anyone, even someone who actually cares about you."

"My ego? Don't you think it's a little hypocritical to pretend you care after pushing me away?"

"You stupid woman." His anger faltered. "I'll always care, always look after you. Because I can't stand it—I can't watch you hurt. I—" 

He trailed off, the confession choked back. Slowly, tentatively, his thumb traced a line across your cheek.

"Let me protect you," he whispered. "Please, just let me keep you from the worst of it."

"And what about you? Who looks after you?"

He held your gaze, the intensity holding you captive. 

You'd seen glimpses of this before — flashes of protective fury or moments of vulnerability. But never like this. Never so raw, unguarded. He looked at you as if you held the key to his survival, as if your very existence was both his lifeline and his undoing.

Love. 

It was the word you choked back, the emotion you refused to give voice to. Yet, it hung heavy in the rain-drenched air. It blazed in his eyes, a confession too raw to be contained.

His touch lingered, then retreated. 

He stared at you, the rain making it impossible to tell if the glistening sheen on his face was water or something other.

"You have to stop looking at me like that," you whispered.

"I know," he said, burying his face against his shoulder for a moment. "Just because we can't be together...It doesn't mean I've stopped loving you."

You took a deep inhale, your heart a clenched fist in your chest. 

"You know, in those four weeks—," you began. "I wondered if it was worth it, the pain, the hurt, for those sweet moments of being with you, or if it would've been better to never meet you at all."

"And did you find an answer?"

"I don't know," you admitted. "Part of me wished you'd just call me, say it was all a cruel joke." 

"I wanted to but—"

"I know," you cut him off. 

He didn't need to say it. 

You didn't want to force the confession from him, didn't want to break something inside him you couldn't bear to see shatter, didn't want to see him crumble under the weight of his choices. 

There was no need for him to voice the regret, the guilt. 

You knew it, saw it in his eyes.

"I know," you repeated softly.

He was suffering too, you knew that. But a wounded part of you needed him to feel the pain, to feel the burn of it, to understand the depth of the wound he'd inflicted.

"It's okay," you said. "But I can't pretend I don't sometimes wonder how you could do this to me. Why you took it so far. You knew it would end like this, that you weren't strong enough, you knew, didn't you? And still, you let me confess...all while knowing you couldn't commit."

"I—," he started but you weren't done.

"I'm not finished," you said, a hand raised to silence him. "I wanted to scream, to rage, to make you feel my pain. But I kept quiet, kept my distance. Because I knew you weren't ready to face this. And I won't force you to."

Silence fell, broken only by the relentless rain.

"I didn't deserve this, Satoru," you forced yourself to say. "You know it."

There was no accusation, no plea for explanation. Just a simple truth, a raw wound laid bare in the unforgiving rain. 

"I know."

"I don't know if I can forgive you yet, Satoru. I don't think I'm strong enough right now."

He reached out, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from your face. "It's okay," he said. "I'll wait. Forever, if I have to."

"And I'll wait for you," you echoed. "Until you're ready."

You took a deep breath. In this rain-soaked moment it seemed, all that remained were raw truths and a shared pain that bound you together even as it tore you apart. 

You searched his face. "How are you? How have you been?"

"I...managed." 

Convincing as always.

You could see the toll this had taken on him, the shadows in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Satoru, in his stubborn pride, would rather break than admit vulnerability.

Perhaps you weren't so different after all.

You tilted your head. "And how's that working for you?"

His gaze drifted to the ground.

With a sigh you slowly, hesitantly, reached for his hand. 

His hand was cold against yours, damp from the persistent rain. You traced the faint scars on the back of his hand, the ones you'd stitched. His fingers twitched, then hesitantly found yours, intertwining with a desperate vulnerability that startled you. 

It was familiar, his touch, his skin, yet undeniably foreign at the same time.

He looked up, dark circles smudged beneath his eyes. And so, beneath the relentless rain, you simply sat.

Words felt unnecessary. 

There was no need for declarations, no need to dissect what had gone so horribly wrong. The truth was in the shared breath, the tremble of your intertwined fingers, the unspoken ache that you both shared.

You knew, with a certainty that transcended logic, that your souls were intertwined in a way that refused to be undone. Yet, that same knowledge brought a crushing weight, a reminder impossibility, the painful chasm you couldn't seem to bridge.

Too bad love wasn't enough. 

"I love you," he finally whispered. "As long as I breathe, I'll love you."

"I hate you," you said.

He sighed, with a hint of a defeated smile. "Come on," he said, gently pulling you to your feet. "Let's go home."

─── ·✧· ───

Grief isn't pretty.

It's not elegant tears and soft whispers.

Sometimes it's a relentless ache, a gnawing emptiness throbbing beneath the thin veneer of forced normalcy. 

You threw yourself into work, anything to outrun your thoughts.

You barely slept, barely ate. You wrote, then erased, then wrote some more.

Endless cups of coffee and the frantic tapping of your fingers on the keyboard replaced sleep. Your apartment became a prison, phone buzzing with unanswered calls, dishes piling up, the world outside your window a meaningless blur.

You existed on a ragged edge, refusing to let your mind wander. Every sting of grief, every echoing memory was ruthlessly shoved down, buried under data, statistics, intricate theories. 

It wasn't just research anymore. It was a shield against pain.

You reread old papers, your eyes scanning pages until the words blurred, searching for some missed detail, some hidden clue that would unlock a breakthrough — anything to justify this madness.

You couldn't stop, needed to function. 

Because what else was left of you if you didn't anymore?

So you worked. Because to stop is to surrender, to stop is to face the truth — that without this work, all that remained was the ruin of what you once were.

Days melted into nights.

You massaged your temples, the headache now a constant companion.

The laptop screen blurred, diagrams and data swirling. Your mind felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

You looked over to the window. The world outside, bathed in the soft glow of early morning, seemed like a foreign land. You hadn't been out in days.

You needed fresh air.

You slipped on shoes and crept downstairs. On the landing, your gaze fell upon Mrs. Tanaka, your elderly neighbor. Her hands fumbled with a tangle of keys, her fingers trembling slightly.

You knew Mrs. Tanaka, knew her kind smile, knew the early signs of her dementia.

"Need help, Mrs. Tanaka?" you asked.

She turned, her eyes widening in recognition. "Oh dear. I seem to have misplaced my keys again. Silly me."

"Here." You knelt beside her, retrieving the spare key from its familiar hiding spot under the potted plant. "Is this it?"

"You're an angel, dear," she said, her hands finally steady enough to work the lock. She paused, peering at your drawn face. "You look exhausted, dear. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just a long night of studying."

Mrs. Tanaka's nod was slow, her gaze lingering. But she said nothing further, just patted your arm gently before disappearing inside her apartment.

Your walk around the block was a blur, legs moving on autopilot. 

The energy drink in your hand was a pathetic substitute for real sleep. Back in your apartment, the silence was deafening.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Think. 

Think. 

Think.

And suddenly — there it was, a flicker of an idea, a twist on existing theory so audacious it bordered on madness.

It wasn't a cure, not yet. But it was... a start.

Adrenaline surged through you, chasing away the exhaustion. You barely noticed the tremors in your hands as you scrambled for a fresh notebook. Diagrams sprawled across the pages, messy yet precise, a frantic attempt to capture the idea before it slipped away.

Your hand ached from scribbling, your mind throbbed. But the fire was back, a destructive force perhaps, but a force that fueled you nonetheless. 

Finally, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky, you had it. Not a cure, not yet. But a starting point. It was messy, audacious, and riddled with uncertainties. But it was something.

You reached for your phone.

[8:27 AM] You: Can we meet later? Lab. After classes. I think I have something.

─── ·✧· ───

You clutched your steaming cup of coffee like a lifeline.

Shivers ran down your body as a gust of autumn wind cut through your thin sweater, carrying with it the scent of damp leaves and the promise of winter's impending cold.

The late afternoon sun offered little warmth as it filtered through the branches of the oak trees that shaded the outdoor seating area of the cafeteria. Students bustled past, their bright faces and carefree chatter unbearable.

"You awake?" Maki's voice cut through the haze that had settled over you. 

You blinked, suddenly aware of the concerned looks on your friends' faces.

"You look like absolute hell," Maki continued. "Seriously, have you slept at all this week?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't even start with that. We know you, and you look like you're about to lose it."

You took a long sip of your coffee, somehow, defending yourself seemed like too much effort.

"She's right, you know," Yuta chimed in, his voice gentler than Maki's but no less concerned. "This research they're piling on you, on top of everything else... it's too much. Even we're struggling with the new semester, and we don't have half the stuff you're dealing with."

"Yeah," you sighed. "Tell me about it."

The looks exchanged between your friends were anything but reassuring. They knew you, knew your stubborn streak, but they also saw the toll this was taking on you. The shadows under your eyes, the tremor in your hands — they couldn't be ignored.

"It's not right," Maki said. "They're basically blackmailing you with your scholarship. That's messed up, even for this university."

"I know, it's messed up. But what am I supposed to do? Fighting it will just make things worse."

"But you have to!" Maki insisted, her voice rising. "Yaga's using you! You're just a student. We should report him, expose this whole thing."

"Maki, it's okay," you sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Nothing about this is 'okay'," she retorted. "You look like you're about to have a breakdown. You can't keep this up forever."

You slumped back in your chair. "It's complicated."

They were right, of course. You couldn't keep going like this. It was unsustainable, a house of cards ready to collapse at the slightest breeze. But what other choice did you have? The alternatives seemed even worse.

"We just—we worry about you," Yuta said. "Maybe we can help with the workload? Notes from class, study sessions—"

"Yeah," Toge chimed in. "Notes."

You offered a faint smile. "That would be great, thank you."

But Maki, as always, was less concerned with comforting and more with the injustice of it all. "I still can't believe you're stuck working with Gojo again. I mean, who does he think he is?"

You winced, wishing she hadn't brought up Satoru. Your head pounded, a migraine threatening to form. You rubbed your temples, but Maki's gaze was relentless. You knew what was coming next.

"Don't even ask," you pleaded, but it was too late.

"Have you talked to him? Like, really talked?"

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. "Maki, please—"

"Girl, he dragged you in front of an ethics committee, broke your heart, and now he's acting like nothing happened. Why are you still protecting him?"

"I can't tell you why," you said, your voice muffled. "Just trust me on this."

You couldn't really tell them, could you?

You couldn't tell them that your professor, a world-renowned neurosurgeon, was an opioid addict. That you'd fallen for him, hard. That the research project had gone sideways, not because of your actions, but because of something else that eventually led to a twisted game played by one of his former friends. And that Satoru, in his fear and self-loathing, had pushed you away, convinced he was doing you a favor.

Yeah, that wasn't exactly coffee-break conversation.

Maki raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your non-answer.

"He's...afraid," you said. "But he's trying."

"Trying what, exactly?" Maki scoffed. "To break your heart again? How long are you going to wait for him to get his shit together? How many times are you going to let him hurt you before you realize he might not change?"

Her words, harsh but undeniably true, cut deep. You knew the risks, the potential for heartbreak. But you also knew that love wasn't always rational, that sometimes the heart held on to hope long after logic had abandoned it.

You met Maki's gaze, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes. She was trying to protect you, and as much as it stung, you couldn't fault her for that.

"I think what Maki's trying to say," Yuta interjected, "is that we're worried about you. And this situation with Dr. Gojo doesn't help. He's your professor. If anyone finds out about your history, you're fucked."

"There's nothing to find out. It's over."

"Over? So you talked to him? Ended things?" Maki pressed.

"Ended is a bit strong."

"You really want me to go over there and end it for you?"

You wanted to argue, to defend the fragile hope that still flickered within you, but the words wouldn't come. You were simply exhausted.

Just then, your phone, lying forgotten on the table, lit up with a notification. 

[12:37 PM] Satoru: We're in the lab. Take your time, we'll wait for you until your class is over.

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of the devil?"

You gathered your things, a sudden urgency replacing the weariness. "I have to go," you said, looking to Yuta with a silent plea. He understood immediately.

"Don't worry," he said, a smile on his lips. "I'll take notes for you. Don't want you falling behind on top of everything else."

"Thanks, Yuta, I owe you one." 

But as you turned to leave, Maki crossed her arms, a stern expression on her face. 

"Don't be mad at me," you pleaded, sensing another lecture coming on. "I've got this under control, I promise."

"Sure you do. Just like you had that whole thing with Gojo under control?" She paused, her voice softening slightly. "We're just worried about you. Don't shut us out."

The weight of their concern settled heavily in your chest, a guilt that twisted like a knife in your gut. 

You wanted to tell them, to let them know the fucked-up mess of emotions and impossible situation you were in, but the words stuck in your throat.

You couldn't tell them.

You simply couldn't tell them.

Not when it meant risking his secret, his reputation, his entire career.

Not when you still cared, foolishly, stubbornly cared.

─── ·✧· ───

You pushed open the door to the lab.

It had been weeks since you'd last stepped foot in this space, weeks since you'd worked with Suguru and Satoru here. Somehow it's the same, the same lab, the same white coat, the same machinery, the same smell of antiseptic in the air, but the project was different.

No, it was not the same.

You slipped into your white lab coat and dropped your bag in the corner.

Satoru and Suguru were already immersed, standing in front of a whiteboard. Satoru, stretched out in a chair with a mug of coffee precariously balanced on a nearby stool, was gesturing wildly while Suguru scribbled.

You walked over to them. Satoru's head snapped around as he heard your footsteps, nearly spilling his coffee on the floor.

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

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

He stared at you for another moment, his brow creasing as he assessed your weary features. "That's not how this research will work. You won't jeopardize your studies for this."

"Last time I checked this was my research. Remember?"

Satoru merely scoffed, tilting his head to assess you with those impossibly blue eyes. You tucked your trembling hands behind your back, hiding the caffeine-fueled tremors from his observant gaze.

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

"I'm fine," you lied, though they probably wouldn't be fooled. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, and the effort to maintain your composure was becoming unbearable. 

They glanced at each other for a second, sharing a worried look.

It felt like a jagged saw against raw nerves. You wanted to prove them wrong, to prove you could handle this — handle all of it. This fight wasn't your choice, but it was yours now. And you wouldn't crumble beneath its weight.

"Look, I have an idea." You walked towards the whiteboard and relieving Suguru of the marker. With a few harsh strokes, you erased their notes.

It was shit anyway.

"My original approach was too theoretical—too cautious," you began. The marker flew across the whiteboard, outlining your new strategy. "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?"

Suguru took a seat beside Satoru, his gaze following yours as you scrawled out diagrams and equations. "Antibodies...what kind?"

"T-cell engagers," you replied. "We can engineer them to bridge the gap between the CAR-T cells and the tumor."

Satoru shifted in his seat. "Such things never been tested before."

"That's why we'll be the first," you countered, keeping your back to them and focusing on the whiteboard. "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."

You spun around, the marker poised in your hand. "And we'll inject them directly into the brain."

They both starred at you, as if you went insane.

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

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

"Ha?" Your gaze flickered between them. "Tell me this doesn't make sense."

Suguru leaned back, fingers drumming against the armrest. "It does. Theoretically, it might even work."

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

Your pulse hammered against your skull. Your idea was a shot in the dark — that was undeniable. But in your gut, you knew, this could work.

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

Suguru stood up from his chair. He paced the lab, your idea stirring an excitement in him that matched your own. He stole the marker from your hand and began scribbling.

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

"The potential for cytokine release syndrome—," Suguru mused aloud. "If the T-cells overreact, we could trigger a inflammatory response."

"We can manage that," you countered. "Steroids, anti-IL-6...strict monitoring protocols." 

You knew the risks, perhaps even better than they did. And they were monstrous, undeniable. But those risks paled in comparison to the potential.

Suguru continued scrawling notes. "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, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally snapped. "We're not talking about hypothetical models here. We're talking about messing with someone's brain. Someone's life."

You glared at him. "I'm well aware of the risks, Satoru."

"Aware and reckless aren't the same thing," Satoru shot back. 

"Coming from you, that's rich."

Satoru run a hand through his hair. "Look, you've barely slept for a week, and now you're proposing—what, supercharged T-cells?" He gestured wildly towards the whiteboard. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?"

"This could work, Satoru. Or are you too much of a coward to even try?" 

His eyes narrowed. "Ha?"

You leaned into him, your hands on the arms of his chair, caging him in. "Tell me, do these supercharged T-cells unnerve you? Make you uncomfortable with yourself?" Your lips were mere inches from his as you whispered, "Too bad you can't fuck them into submission, right?"

He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He understood your taunt, the challenge clear in his eyes, the anger and — maybe something other as well.

Suguru, who had been watching the exchange with an expression that bordered on annoyance, suddenly stopped mid-thought. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his expression hardening as he glanced at the screen.

"Damn it." He answered the call. "Alright, I'm on my way," he said finally, ending the call with a curt nod. He turned to you. "We'll pick this up later. There's a situation at the hospital. Get some rest. You look like hell."

Ouch.

Before you could say anything, he was already striding towards the door, his white coat flapping behind him. 

With Suguru gone, a heavy silence descended upon the room. 

Satoru remained seated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like an assessment, not just of your audacious proposal, but of you — standing there, the weight of sleepless nights visible in the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"So—," he began. "When was the last time you actually slept? Like, really slept?"

You rubbed your aching temples. "I'm fine." 

You didn't know how many times you'd said that before today. But each time it was a lie. The exhaustion now throbbed behind your eyes, the beginnings of a relentless migraine.

Satoru stood. "Yeah, right." He crossed the distance between you in a few strides, his towering height suddenly oppressive. 

"Listen, we can argue about this crazy plan of yours later. Right now, you look like you're about to collapse." He reached out, gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Don't lie to me. I know you're not fine."

"This idea is good, Satoru," you insisted. "It could actually work."

"I don't give a damn about theoretical breakthroughs right now," he said. "Stubborn, reckless idiot. I care about you. And right now, you're pushing yourself way past your limits."

"I don't need your concern, Satoru. Right now, I need your brain to help me with this."

His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Oh, where did all that anger at me go?"

"Screw anger. I'm being a genius now."

"You're not a genius right now, more like a madman."

"That's what it takes," you muttered, the defiance fading as your voice softened. "This research...it's personal." 

He studied you closely, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I get that. But you can't save anyone if you fall apart in the process."

"I won't fall apart."

"Yes, you will. I've known you long enough to know that."

Part of you longed to surrender, to let him take the weight you carried, even for a moment. But pride, a fierce, protective instinct, urged you to resist. You couldn't afford to rely on him, not anymore. You had to fight your own battles, win or lose.

"Let us help. Just a little. Share the burden."

"I'm—"

"Don't," he cut you off. "Don't say you're fine. Not when I can feel you trembling."

"I'm... okay," you said instead.

His gaze held yours, unwavering and painfully perceptive. 

His breath brushed against your lips, making your knees weak in an instant.

The world narrowed to the mesmerizing blue of his eyes. He leaned in, your bodies mere inches apart. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you against him. Each inhale brought the subtle scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him.

"Satoru, what are you—"

He smirked. "Just testing out a hypothesis."

His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. You leaned into him, unable to resist his pull, cursing your treacherous body in the very same second.

"What hypothesis?"

He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over yours before tracing a searing path down the side of your throat. A soft moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

"Ah," he whispered against your skin, "that would be telling."

Before you could react, his hands slipped beneath your legs, lifting you effortlessly. Your arms instinctively found their way around his neck. He carried you effortlessly toward the lone chair before his desk.

"What are you doing?"

"Research," he declared, a playful lilt to his voice. 

He lowered himself into the chair, his hands never leaving your body, guiding you onto his lap as if you belonged there. His warmth enveloped you.

"Time to delve into your reckless methods, wouldn't you agree?"

Your legs were lifted, draped over his thighs as he pulled you closer. He reached for his laptop, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.

"Satoru, I—"

"Shhh." His fingers grazed your cheek, then slipped into your hair, stroking the back of your head in a soothing rhythm. "Just rest for a moment. I'll handle this for now."

"But I—"

His grip tightened, a gentle but firm reminder that your protests were futile. "If you don't sleep now, I swear, I'll slip a sedative into your next coffee, love." 

You grumbled something unintelligible, but the fight had drained from you. The exhaustion was too overwhelming, his warmth too tempting. 

You surrendered to the moment, your body relaxing against his. As your eyelids fluttered closed, the world narrowed to the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath against your hair, and the undeniable truth that despite the chaos — you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But even as your eyelids grew heavy, your researcher's mind kept churning.

"EGFRvIII..." you mumbled, the words barely audible against his chest. "Heterogeneity...off-target effects..."

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Doctor. I might be a bit more experienced in this field than you, you know."

"But cytokine storm markers...cross-reactivity...you forget them often..."

"Bossy even in your sleep, huh?" His fingers continued to run through your hair as he spoke. "Don't worry that pretty little head. Just...sleep. I've got you."

And with that promise, he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a deep, desperately needed slumber. The last thing your conscious mind recognized was a kiss placed on the top of your head.

─── ·✧· ───

Ten years. 

Ten years since the sterile hospital room, the rhythmic beeps of the monitor dissolving into a horrifying silence. 

Ten years since the brain tumor had devoured your father, the man you looked up to, the man you admired more than anyone. 

Who would have thought that ten years later you'd be doing research on that very brain tumor again.

What a cruel joke.

Today, all you craved was to burrow yourself under the covers and let the world fade away. University, research, responsibilities — they all felt trivial, meaningless.

You were hungry, stomach growling. 

You didn't want to eat.

Dragging yourself out of bed was a herculean effort. Even the simple act of brushing your teeth felt monumental, exhaustion seeping into your bones like a poison.

The familiar ache intensified. You missed him. Missed his booming laugh, his gentle teasing, the unwavering belief in his eyes that you could achieve anything. 

He would have understood this desperate research, this burning need to find a cure — not just for others, but for a chance to rewrite the ending to your own story.

Maybe throwing yourself into this research was a desperate way for you to feel close to him again, maybe it was a futile attempt to get over it, end the suffering, end the what if's.

Coffee, black and bitter, was the only thing you could stomach. Just as you were about to take a sip, your phone buzzed.

[10:12 AM] Satoru: You with friends today?

You stared at the screen. Why would he ask that? But as quickly as the thought came, you dismissed it. No, not today. You really didn't need another emotional mess on this day.

You ignored the message.

With a sigh, you tossed the phone aside and buried yourself under the comforting weight of your blankets. You just wanted to sleep. Sleep and forget. Pretend for a moment that the world wasn't crumbling around you.

Afternoon passed in a haze of restless slumber and tearful awakenings. 

Another buzz — a call this time. 

Satoru.

Your finger hovered over the decline button. Why was he calling? Was there an emergency? Even if there was, you wouldn't be much help today anyway. 

Ignoring the call, you shut your phone off completely. He can handle whatever is going on on his own. He's a grown man after all.

The silence returned, thick and heavy.

Curled up tight, you drifted into a restless sleep again.

You awoke with a start, disoriented and unsure of how much time had passed. You blinked against the dim light, the rhythmic thumping at the door a harsh intrusion. Ignoring it, you burrowed deeper under the covers. 

Maybe, just maybe, whoever it was would go away and leave you alone. But the knocking persisted. With a frustrated groan, you dragged yourself out of bed. Throwing the door open, you were met with the last person you expected to see.

"What are you doing here?" you asked.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His white dress shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up. Dark navy tie around his neck. His brows were furrowed, the usual playful smirk replaced by a worried expression.

"You weren't answering your phone."

"And?"

"I'm concerned about you."

"No need."  

You reached for the doorknob to shut the door. But his hand shot out, stopping the door. His gaze locked with yours, those impossibly blue eyes piercing into you.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" he asked softly.

"Tell anyone what?"

"That today...it's the day of your father's death."

You felt an icy grip tighten around your heart. How did he know? You hadn't told anyone, not wanting the pitying looks or empty platitudes, least of all from him.

"Yeah," he said.  "That's what I thought."

His gaze held you captive, draining the fight from you. It wasn't anger, nor pity, but something like concern, and something more — something you told him not to look at you like that again.

You stepped aside and shuffled towards the kitchen to get yourself another cup of coffee. "How did you even know?" you asked, pouring yourself another cup.

"Google."

You turned, coffee sloshing in your mug. "Seriously? You Googled my father's death day?"

He didn't answer to that.

Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering. "Thought you'd be with friends today. Maki's fiercely protective, she wouldn't leave your side on a day like this. So when I saw her and the rest of the group on campus, I figured you hadn't told anyone."

"Yeah, because I wanted to be alone. Besides, shouldn't you be at university right now?"

"Called in sick once I realized you weren't with them."

"You really trying to get yourself fired, don't you?"

He closed the distance between you, the small kitchen suddenly feeling crowded with his presence. His eyes swept across your face, taking in the exhaustion etched around your eyes, the weariness in your posture.

"Have you eaten anything today besides coffee?"

"How much hydromorphone have you taken today?"

"Don't distract from the subject."

You crossed your arms. "I just changed the subject."

He ran a hand through his unruly white hair. "Alright, stubborn one. Let's get you some real food."

"I don't need you to babysit me, Satoru."

"Yeah, I know you don't. But you can't stop me, can you? So, move it." He gestured towards the door, his gaze unwavering. "Or I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out myself."

The threat, delivered with a hint of a smirk, was not entirely a joke. You knew him well enough to know that. He was dead serious, and you were too exhausted to fight him, to resist the gentle command in his voice. 

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn't want to fight him, was thankful for his support.

"Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm paying."

"We'll see about that, first-year."

─── ·✧· ───

You didn't pay for it.

He'd already taken care of the bill before you could even reach for your wallet. 

Silence fell between you as you navigated the bustling streets in his car, your stomach full. He smoothly merged from the parking lot onto the main road.

You were halfway through your energy drink, the sugary sweetness suddenly feeling heavy in your stomach. "Wait... where are we going?"

Glancing out the window, you saw a road sign indicating the highway. It pointed towards the direction of your hometown, a place you hadn't set foot in for nearly a year. Your stomach suddenly turned.

"You..." you stammered. "Why?"

His eyes briefly met yours, one hand tightening on the steering wheel. "Don't you want to visit him?"

His words hung in the air, a simple question — should have been a simple question.

But a wave of nausea roiled in your stomach. Guilt for neglecting the place that held so many memories, fear of confronting the raw grief that still lingered, a deep-seated yearning to reconnect with a past you'd desperately tried to outrun.

"I don't know." You slumped back in the seat. "I don't think I can."

Silence stretched between you.

Then, his hand found yours, fingers interlacing with your own. "I'm here with you. Every step of the way."

You hated him.

Hated that he wouldn't force you, wouldn't pressure you. Hated that he would simply be there, as he always seemed to be. Even when you didn't ask, even when you didn't want him to.

You wanted to curse him for his audacity, for somehow knowing what you needed now, for understanding you better than you understood yourself. But a part of you was grateful. 

The truth was, you didn't have the strength to face this alone. And deep down, you knew this visit was long overdue.

Your fingers fumbled with the edge of your sleeve. "You planned this all along, didn't you?" You glanced over at him.

His lips curved into a slight smile. "Get some rest," he replied, eyes returning to the road. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."

The highway stretched before you, an endless ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the horizon. You leaned back, exhaustion pulling you under. The warmth of his hand lingered, a comforting weight on your thigh. 

Lately, it seemed, you could find peaceful sleep only in his presence.

─── ·✧· ───

Hours dissolved into miles, the familiar cityscape giving way to rolling hills and quaint towns. The pain in your chest was still there, but with Satoru by your side, it was lighter, less heavy, less suffocating.

But as the car pulled into the all-too-familiar cemetery parking lot, the dread you'd been suppressing clawed its way back. Satoru cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening, broken only by the mournful creak of the windshield wipers against the lingering drizzle.

Satoru got out of the car and rounded it to opened the door for you, his hand lingering on the window frame. You got out of the car only to find yourself trapped, his body not moving an inch. 

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine." You ducked beneath his arm, breaking the hold of his gaze, and stepped onto the rain-softened ground.

The desolate expanse of the graveyard stretched before you, a sea of gray and brown punctuated by the stark white headstones that stood like silent sentinels. Without a word, you walked the familiar path, each step a heavy weight dragging you down. 

The wind howled. It whipped through the trees, skeletal branches clawing at the sky. Each gust of icy air tore at your hair, biting at your exposed skin until you finally stood before his grave.

Satoru remained a few paces back.

You hadn't been here since the funeral, avoided it at all costs. And now you were here, standing in front of his grave. Somehow, you didn't even remember the reason you avoided this for so long.

Maybe seeing his grave made it all too real, too painful.

But now you were here.

And it became real, and it was painful.

"You want me to leave you alone?" Satoru asked.

"No." With a silent plea, you reached out your hand. "Please, stay with me."

His response was immediate. In a few quick strides, he closed the distance between you, his hand enveloping yours in a warmth that chased away some of the icy dread. "Where else would I go?" he mused, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You swallowed back a sob, unable to form words. 

Time lost all meaning as you stood there, hand in hand, the world narrowing to the headstone before you. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the sun sinking lower, painting the graveyard in fiery hues of orange and red.

But the silence became unbearable. 

Memories flooded you, each one a bittersweet wound, a yearning for the past that wouldn't be silenced. You couldn't stand still anymore. Your fingers tightened around Satoru's.

"I asked my father to read me his neurology books as a child," you finally spoke, your voice a fragile whisper. "While other kids were reading about princesses and fairy tales, I wanted to understand what my father did, wanted to understand his work."

You took a shaky breath. "He loved this. Surgeries, research, saving lives... it was his whole being, and somehow, it became mine too. I remember knowing how to clip an aneurysm before I could do the Pythagoras theorem."

"When I was old enough, he took me to the hospital. Showed me everything. I was probably there more than I was at school." Your voice trembled, the dam threatening to break. "I loved it. I loved it so much."

"Sounds like he was a great man," Satoru offered quietly.

"They tried everything," you continued. "Chemo, radiation... poison, burning him from the inside out. But the tumor was too aggressive, too progressed." Your voice trembled, your fingers turning to ice in his grasp. "Surgery was his last option."

Satoru moved closer, his grip tightening.

"We didn't want him to, we wanted him to try radiation a little longer, stay with us a little longer," you confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. "But he chose surgery anyway, went into surgery without telling us."

Suddenly the memories came back, how weak and fragile your father already was from all the procedures. How the doctors still suggested surgery. It was risky. It was stupid. But your father still wanted it. Even after you begged him not to do it. 

But what could you do?

You were a high school student at the time. 

Young and dumb.

You know now, that it was his only chance. You understand now, why he wanted to try anyway, even though he knew the risks.

"He didn't make it," you finally choked out, tears welling up in your eyes. "He died on the table. Alone. I never even got to say goodbye."

Suddenly, Satoru's arms enveloped you, strong and warm against the chilling evening air. He pulled you close, one hand on your back, the other pressing your head against his chest.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I'm here, and I'll always be here."

You bit your lip. You wouldn't cry. Wouldn't let the grief consume you. Not here, not now. But Satoru's arms tightened around your trembling form as your tears nevertheless dampened his shirt.

You didn't know how long you remained like this, but his grip on you never faltered for a second, he didn't back away for a second. Even as twilight descended, casting long shadows across the headstones.

He held you until your tears dried, he held you until your tight grip on his shirt eased, until your heart felt less like a stone in your chest.

"We should probably find a place to stay," Satoru finally spoke, his voice gentle, hesitant. "It's getting late, we can drive home tomorrow—"

You pulled away, just enough to meet his gaze. Your voice was surprisingly steady despite the tear-streaked tracks on your face. "I know where we can stay."

─── ·✧· ───

"She's a little...different," you warned Satoru after ringing the doorbell.

The porch creaked beneath your weight. Your eyes swept across the worn wooden planks, the once vibrant yellow paint on the siding faded to a sickly pallor, the rusty mailbox overflowing with unopened letters. Rose bushes wild and overgrown.

You averted your gaze, a lump forming in your throat.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've mentioned that. Like, a hundred times."

"Just so you're prepared."

"I'm a doctor, remember? Crazy doesn't faze me."

"Just wait," you muttered, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. "And, uh, whatever you do, don't mention my father."

His eyes widened slightly, the playful smile disappearing. But before he could respond, the front door flew open. Your mother appeared in the doorway. Surprise, then unadulterated joy, flashed across her face as her gaze fell upon you.

"Oh my baby girl!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. "You've grown so tall! My, how long has it been? All the way from Tokyo? Are you alright? Why didn't you call?"

Her questions tumbled out in a torrent, the words tripping over each other as she finally noticed the tall, white-haired man standing behind you. "And who is this?"

"Mom," you managed, your voice muffled against her shoulder. "It's good to see you too..." You gently extricated yourself from her embrace. "This is Satoru...he's a...," you turned around to glanced at him, "friend."

Satoru raised an eyebrow at the label.

Your mother's eyes raked over him. He, in turn, flashed her a smile so bright, so disarming, it almost made your skin crawl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Wow, he really could play the perfect son-in-law when he wanted to.

You suppressed a sigh, knowing your mother was already half-smitten. Before she could unleash another barrage of questions, you quickly interjected, "We're just passing through, and need a place to stay the night."

"Of course, of course!" Your mother's enthusiasm returned in a flurry. "Come in, come in! You must be starving. I'll whip up some tea, and there's apple pie..." She chattered on, ushering you both into the familiar warmth of your childhood home.

─── ·✧· ───

Before you could blink, your mother had you both in colorful floral aprons, protest was futile. Satoru's awkwardly tied over his shirt, the apron way too tight for him. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, the crisp white fabric bunching around his elbows.

The awful smell of lavender, tinged with something sweet, hung in the air.

How you hated that smell.

Your mother bustled around the kitchen, flinging open cupboards, clattering utensils, and assigning tasks. You found yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru at the counter, a mountain of carrots and a too-small cutting board the only barrier between you.

You glanced at him and mouthed a silent 'sorry'.

Satoru leaned in, a wry grin playing on his lips. "Think I finally figured out where you got your stubborn streak."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Before he could answer, your mother stood between you, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand like a weapon. "So, Satoru, tell me, where did you meet my lovely daughter?"

The question nearly made you drop the knife.

"We met in the operating room," he began, while cutting carrots. "I was performing a quite complicated operation and was a bit stuck, and your daughter over here helped me out."

"Oh, you're a surgeon?"

"Neurosurgeon, yes," Satoru replied. "But apparently, I'm not as clever as your daughter. She's got quite the mind on her."

Your mother let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing in the cramped kitchen. "That's my girl," she exclaimed, patting your arm with a flour-covered hand. "Always the smartest one in the room."

Then, she reached out to pinch your cheek. "Mom!" You swatted her hand away. "Stop it!"

"She's astoundingly intelligent," Satoru added, his eyes flickering to you with an admiration that lingered a beat too long. You rubbed your cheek, a blush warming your face. "Couldn't ask for a better research partner."

You shot him a warning glance, and he finally tore his eyes away, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"You work together?" your mother asked, her curiosity piqued as she turned around to tasted something from the simmering pot.

"We're involved in the same research project—" Satoru began, but you cut him off.

"It's nothing special," you interrupted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "Just some boring data analysis. Nothing exciting."

Satoru glanced at you. You shook your head subtly, hoping he'd catch the unspoken plea.

The rest of the meal preparation was a blur of nervous glances and sharp elbow jabs.

Your mother asked more and more personal questions, making you want to crawl under the table and disappear. You dodged, deflected, and offered vague answers. Satoru, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem to reveal every fucking inappropriate detail of your shared past.

You could practically feel the bruises forming on his shins. By the time the food was ready, you were ready to throttle him.

He must absolutely hate you, you thought, shooting him a death glare as you sat down at the table. But even your anger couldn't fully mask the warmth that spread through you at the sight of his charming smile, the way he seemed to effortlessly charm your mother with his stories.

You'd hoped the interrogation was over, but as soon as the first bite was taken, your mother launched into a fresh round of inquiries.

"Made some good friends in Tokyo, have you?"

"Yeah," you mumbled around a mouthful of casserole. "They're great. Don't worry."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Your mother clasped her hands together. "You were always a bit of a loner, you know. I was so worried you'd be all by yourself in that big city."

The backhanded compliment made you roll your eyes. Some things never change.

Before you could reply, she continued, "But you've even found yourself a boyfriend! That's wonderful!"

You choked on your food. "Mom, no, that's not..." you coughed, fighting for composure, "He's just a friend."

"Ouch," Satoru muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips as he took another bite.

You shot him a glare, the unspoken 'shut up' hanging heavy in the air.

"So, you two are working on that neuroprosthetics project together, then?" your mother continued.

You were mid-bite, unable to answer before Satoru piped up, "We were. But we're working on something else now."

"Oh? What happened to the neuroprosthetics?"

You swallowed, forcing the words out. "It was...shelved. For now."

"Why?"

Damn it. Her relentless questioning was grating against your already frayed nerves. You avoided her look, tracing the worn pattern of the tablecloth with your fingers.

"Some complications," you lied. "We're waiting on funding."

You couldn't really tell her the truth after all, could you?

"So, what are you working on now, then?" Your mother wouldn't let it go, her voice a relentless drill boring into your skull.

"It's nothing, really. Boring stuff," you dismissed it, desperate to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.

"Ah, but I want to know!" 

"It's...medical research."

"That's what I thought! But what kind? It must be important if you're working with a seasoned surgeon." She beamed at him. "Tell me, I'm dying to know!"

Your gaze flickered to Satoru, a silent plea for him to remain quiet. He simply watched the exchange with a carefully neutral expression, probably unsure of what's going on.

The knot in your stomach tightened. You knew she wouldn't let it go. "It's... brain tumor research," you finally admitted.

The kitchen fell silent.

Your mother's forced smile vanished, a mask you knew all too well finally fell. Her eyes hardened into shards of ice.

"So," she finally hissed. "It's back to that foolish research, is it?"

It hurt — after all this time it still hurt so awfully.

"It's not foolish," you retorted, your own anger flaring in response. "It's important. It could save lives."

But your words fell on deaf ears. She slammed her hands on the table, the force of it rattling the plates. Her face twisted with a grief-stricken rage as she rose, towering over you. "Why? Why are you so obsessed with this?"

The words pierced you like a thousand tiny needles. It was the unspoken accusation that had haunted you since his death — that your relentless pursuit was somehow an act of betrayal, a denial of his death.

But she was worse.

"Because he's dead, Mom!" you screamed. "He's gone! And he's never coming back!"

The words hung heavy in the air, a brutal reality she desperately tried to outrun. Your mother's face crumpled, the carefully constructed mask of normalcy finally shattering. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the worn tabletop.

"Dead?" she whispered. "You know that's not true. He's...he's just...away. You're lying. You're a liar!"

The accusation, so childlike in its desperation, was a punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to shake her out of this self-imposed delusion. But the words died in your throat.

What was the point?

It was useless. She hadn't changed a bit.

This was the same wall of denial you'd run up against so many times before, a fortress built to keep the pain at bay. But you were done banging your head against it.

"I'm going to bed," you choked out, the words barely audible. You turned and fled, each step a retreat from the battlefield you had lost long ago.

The familiar smell of her cooking, now made you want to throw up.

─── ·✧· ───

Each step creaked as you climbed the familiar stairs, the once vibrant floral carpet now muted and worn beneath your feet.

Nothing had changed.

Your childhood bedroom, untouched since you'd left. Your mother hadn't changed a thing. Same striped bedspread. Dusty neurology textbooks still lined the shelves. Moonlight filtered through the threadbare curtains, casting elongated shadows across the walls.

It was all achingly familiar, yet utterly foreign.

You collapsed onto the bed and starred up at the cracks in the aging ceiling. That goddamn lavender smell all around you. Your mother seemed to have sprayed the air freshener everywhere — some habit she had developed after your father's death.

She wanted the house to smell good for his return.

Your head began to throb.

Then, a soft knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Satoru's voice broke the silence.

You mumbled a weak assent. He entered, closing the door softly behind him.

"Could you calm her down a little?"

"I did my best," he said. "She's sleeping now."

"I told you she's different."

He walked over to you. "She's in denial, probably a prolonged grief disorder. Is she in therapy?"

"She won't go." You rolled onto your side, your back to him. "I've tried."

Wordlessly, Satoru slipped onto the bed beside you, his warmth enveloping you as he nestled against your back. His arms encircled you, pulling you close until your back was pressed against his chest. His hand found your hair, fingers threading through the strands.

You didn't resist.

You knew you were crossing lines again, lines that should remain clear. But in that moment, the exhaustion, the heartache, the years of repressed grief — it all became too much.

You just wanted to be near him, damn the consequences.

So you surrendered, your body relaxing against his. You could feel his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder. Slowly, the tension eased from your shoulders, replaced by a weariness you could no longer fight.

"My mother lost it after his death," you whispered. "She shut down completely. Wouldn't leave the house, wouldn't eat... wouldn't even speak. I had to take care of everything, the house, the bills, keep her from falling apart. It got better, eventually. But those first few months were a living nightmare."

"I know she lost her husband." Your voice caught in your throat. "But I lost my father. I was grieving too."

Satoru listened, his fingers gently stroking your hair as you continued.

"I couldn't take it anymore. It was hell." You swallowed against the burn of tears. "I was so relieved when Suguru offered me a way out, a chance to transfer to Tokyo, to leave it all behind, move far away, away from here. I never looked back, never came back. I left her alone. I couldn't anymore. I hate this place."

It was humiliating — a shameful admission of weakness you'd never dared to voice aloud. But now it escaped your lips, you simply couldn't hold it in any longer.

You never wanted him to see this side of you, the weak, helpless girl who'd run from her responsibilities, the broken girl you tried to bury beneath layers of ambition and scientific accomplishment.

"Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

Satoru's hand stilled in your hair. "No," he whispered. "You were a child, forced to grow up too fast, forced to take on too much responsibility. Walking away from that doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you human."

"But why does it feel so wrong? I should have been there, I should have—"

"Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to walk away from the things that hurt us," he interrupted gently. "You were protecting yourself. That doesn't make you bad, it makes you brave."

"I'm not so sure."

He pulled you closer, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Nothing you do, nothing you could ever do, would make me think less of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "No matter what you've done, I'll always love you. You can't scare me."

How could he say that now? 

How could he offer this unwavering love while dismissing your own?

Did he think you were so weak, so easily scared by his mess?

How could he not believe you, when you'd sworn the very same words to him?

It was a painful irony, a hypocrisy that made your stomach churn. He was so convinced you would abandon him, so afraid of your judgment, but couldn't he see?

You wouldn't leave him. You couldn't.

He didn't need to be perfect. He didn't need to be whole. He just needed to be himself. You loved him, flaws and all, and you were willing to fight for him, even if it meant fighting against your own better judgment.

The unfairness of it all made you want to scream. But all you could do was remain close to him, the warmth of his body a painful reminder of the love that could have been, the trust that had been shattered.

"I hate you," you whispered. "I hate how easy this is for you, how you can be so damn controlled even when you're high. It should be harder for you, shouldn't be me that falls apart."

"I've been doing this a bit longer than you, love," he murmured against your hair.

"Doing what?"

"Life."

You scoffed.

"It used to be hard," he admitted. "But it got easier over time. Now, I guess I'm just...a better person on drugs than off them."

"You really think that?"

"You see the proof, don't you?"

"So, you won't ever stop, will you?"

The silence that followed was an answer in itself. You shifted in his embrace, the darkness making his features hard to read. Even so, you could sense the defensiveness in his posture, feel the faint tremor in his hands.

"I'm afraid, Satoru."

"Of what, love?"

"That you'll kill yourself with the pills, and that I'll have to watch, unable to do anything about it."

He shook his head. "That won't happen."

"Don't fool yourself, you're not stronger than your body."

In a swift motion, he shifted, hovering over you. His hands on both side of your head. The moonlight cast stark shadows across his face, his eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away.

"That won't happen," he repeated with an intensity that sent chills down your spine. "Because how could I ever leave you? You're the last thing I want to see before sleep, the person I crave to wake up beside, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your lips. "How could I leave, when you're the one who showed me I could still feel? Who gave me something I'm terrified to lose?"

Your breath caught in your throat. His words were cruel — reminder of what you'd lost, of the future he'd carelessly shattered — cruel reminder of the love he had no right to claim. It left a bitter taste on your tongue.

"You ended this," you whispered. "You ended us."

"I know." He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as if the weight of his confession was too much to bear. "But I'm still yours. You still have all of me."

"That's not fair."

"I know." His hands found your waist, his touch searing through your thin shirt. "I know I'm being selfish. But I can't—fuck, I can't stay away from you."

"You're just scared to be alone."

"No." His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly close until you could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your own. "It's not that. It's—" He paused, struggling to find the words. "I swear, if I could, I'd melt you into my veins, let you run through my bloodline forever."

"Satoru, I—"

"No." His lips hovered inches from yours, his mouth slightly open, a desperate plea in his eyes. "Don't—don't say anything. Not yet."

He tilted your chin upwards, his gaze searing into yours. His brow furrowed, a tense line between those striking blue eyes.

"You're carved into me. Heart, soul, every damn part of me I can't even begin to understand." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "I'm tethered to you, and I don't know how to cut the cord."

His lips hovered, a hair's breadth away from yours. His gaze flickered to your lips as he leaned impossibly close. 

You ached into him, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Weeks of forced distance, the pain of his choices, the impossible future — it all faded as you closed your eyes, surrendering to him — like you always surrendered to him.

But just as your lips were about to touch, something crossed your mind.

Tethered.

"Tethered!" You shoved him away with a sudden surge of adrenaline. Mind racing, you scrambled out of bed. You tore open drawers and rummaged through your childhood bedside table. "Where's a pen? marker?"

Satoru, momentarily stunned, watched with a furrowed brow. "What's going on?"

Then you found a marker. "No time to explain," you declared, already uncapping the marker. You walked towards the wall opposite the bed, a blank canvas of white paint. Satoru watched as you draw with the marker on the wall without a second thought.

With a flourish, you started sketching a series of diagrams, lines connecting and branching out, notes scrawled in messy handwriting beside them.

Finally, you stepped back, chest heaving. "Okay," you began, "with glioblastoma, the big problem is, how do we keep those CAR-T cells and antibodies glued to the tumor, right? How do we stop them from wandering off and screwing up the whole show?"

Satoru's eyes followed your every move, his brow still furrowed. "Yeah."

"We need a delivery system," you continued, the words tumbling out faster than you could write them. "Something that keeps those cells localized, focused on the tumor, like a...a guided missile." You stabbed the marker at the wall, emphasizing your point. "Otherwise, the treatment won't be effective. It'll just dissipate, a waste of time."

He leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his chin. "Some kind of molecular anchor, maybe?"

"Not exactly. But you're on the right track. Think smaller. Nanoparticles."

Satoru raised a questioning eyebrow. "Nano-what now?"

You grinned. "Microscopic carriers, basically. Biocompatible ones, of course. Imagine we wrap those CAR-T cells and antibodies in these little packages, and engineer them to stick to the tumor like glue."

"So they stay put, right where they need to be?"

"Exactly." You nodded. "They deliver their payload directly to the tumor, then break down harmlessly. No more stray cells wreaking havoc on healthy tissue."

"But won't the body eventually get rid of them? Immune system, natural breakdown, that kind of thing?"

"Absolutely. That's why we use biodegradable polymers for the encapsulation. They'll dissolve over time, minimizing any long-term risks. But it's—," You paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. "We have to figure out the exact release rate—enough time to kill the tumor, but not so long that they cause other problems."

Satoru's gaze swept across the diagrams on the wall. Then, he pushed himself off the bed and walked towards you. You held your breath as he studied your handwriting.

"So?" you asked. "What do you think?"

"Stubborn, reckless, absolutely brilliant." His azure blue eyes met yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You stubborn, reckless, absolutely brilliant woman."

Before you could react, he swept you off your feet, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as he spun you around. "Satoru!" you protested, clutching your legs around his waist, laughter bubbling up.

He stopped abruptly, holding you aloft, your bodies mere inches apart. His hands warm against your hips, your fingers threaded through his hair. Your heart hammered in your chest. But as you stared into his impossibly blue eyes, you found yourself unable to look away.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, then back again. "Damn it, you drive me insane."

"We have a lot of work to do."

"We always do. But this—this is different. We're going to do this. We're going to make it work."

"Are we still talking about research?"

"Of course, love," he replied, leaning closer, his lips mere millimeters from yours.

Time seemed to slow, the space between you burned. You could feel the warmth of his breath, smell his intoxicating cologne. You wanted this, wanted him with a desperation that clawed at your very soul.

But just as your lips were about to touch, he pulled back, abruptly setting you on your feet, shattering the moment like glass.

"We should get some sleep," he said. "Long drive tomorrow."

You nodded, your throat suddenly tight. 

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was for the best that he hadn't kissed you. Because deep down, you knew that if he had, you wouldn't have been able to stop. 

"Yeah. We should sleep," you finally said. "You'll be sleeping on the floor, just so you know."

"Ha?"

"You think I'm letting you sleep in my bed after that?" You crossed your arms. "You can't be trusted, professor. There's a futon in the closet."

"You're kidding, right?"

─── ·✧· ───

You woke with a groan.

Rolling over, the familiar striped print of your childhood bedspread met your gaze. Sunlight filtered through the dusty curtains, casting the room in a hazy glow. Beside you, the futon was empty, the faint scent of Satoru the only evidence that he had been there at all.

Why hadn't he woken you?

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you reached up to touch your lips. The faint ghost of his kiss still lingered on your skin. A headache threatened to rise as you hastily dismissed the memory.

Not this again.

The house creaked and groaned as you made your way downstairs. Halfway down, you froze.

There, in the sun-drenched kitchen, stood Satoru. Leaning casually against the counter, his unruly white hair seemingly catching every ray of sunlight, he looked startlingly at home. Your mother stood beside him, a genuine smile on her face as they talked.

Seeing him here, in this familiar space, in this casual domestic setting with your mother, sent a strange feeling of warmth through you. Your lips twitched upwards as you caught a glimpse of your mother's laughter, a sound that had been far too rare in recent years.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, Satoru's gaze snapped to you, his eyes brightening.

"Well, there she is!" your mother exclaimed. "Satoru was just giving me an update on your research. Sounds like you're onto something really interesting!"

Your brow furrowed. What was she talking about? She couldn't be talking about the brain tumor project. She'd rather chew glass than willingly delve back into that nightmare.

You were rooted to the stairs, exhausted and confused.

Satoru crossed the distance between you, that familiar lazy grin playing on his lips. He held out a hand. "Ready?"

"Yes," you said and reached for it. His fingers closed around yours. "Let's go back."

─── ·✧· ───

Birdsong filled the crisp autumn air.

Morning light filtered through the gnarled branches, casting dappled shadows across the porch. The chipped paint on the railing, the faded welcome mat — you never pictured yourself missing this place, your hometown, your childhood home. It was too intertwined with loss, too full of ghosts, to really miss it.

Yet, today, saying goodbye was somehow hard.

"Thank you." You gave your mother a tight hug. Her embrace was warm, reassuring, but you felt her tremble slightly. "For everything."

"Come back and visit soon, okay? And call me when you're back in Tokyo. Promise?"

"I will," you lied.

Your mother squeezed you with surprising strength. Then, with a low voice she whispered, "I think...I'll try therapy."

Stunned, you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. Why now? After years of denial? Your gaze flickered past her to find Satoru leaning against the porch railing, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. Could he — Was he behind this?

Before you could form the question, your mother turned to him. "And you! You take good care of her, you hear?"

"I will, but I also wanted to ask you something." Satoru pushed off the railing and walked over. He took your mother's hand in his, the gesture strangely formal. Then, in a move that left you momentarily stunned, he bowed slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

His blue eyes met hers as he asked, "May I have your permission...to marry your daughter?"

Haaaaa?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: hmmm friends, i can't with soft, desperate satoru. was literally melting while writing this. but i hope this chapter gives you all a little more hope for a happy ending, haha. i know some of you were doubting after the last one (which, btw, wasn't even the lowest point yet, just sayin'). but we'll get there, promise !! Just a whole lotta chaos and hurt to get through first.

also, please don't ask me about any of the medical stuff in this chapter. i have no idea what's going on, lol. loosely based it on this study (DOI: 10.1056/NEJMoa2314390), but seriously, i don't understand any of it. just ignore anything that doesn't make sense — it's all for the sake of the plot ahaha.

also was hesitant to share too much of yn's backstory since this is technically an x reader story, but you guys wanted to know more, so i went for it. i'm so glad i did !! i think it makes her character more well-rounded and shows her vulnerabilities. 

and omg, satoru being supportive no matter what? trying to make things right? i'm a sucker for that. and of course, he had to meet his future mother-in-law sometime, right? hehe. but don't worry, we'll also dive into satoru's past and how it shaped him in future chapters.

one last thing note on suguru: this won't turn into a love triangle. reader's heart belongs to satoru, and while suguru's feelings will be there, it'll be more of an undercurrent than a major plot point. so, no worries there !!

and lastly, thank you so much for reading. your support means the world. seriously, you make this whole writing thing so much fun !! so thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ask for !! <3

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn @browrm @hfdkhjghjkghfj @marcillyan @roses-and-reeses @yungbloode (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future, this way it's easier for me to keep track!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo fanfic #gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

[sophswritingthings]

explosive - hazel callahan 

pairing: hazel callahan x forfem!cheerleader!reader

warning(s): no warnings, actually! it’s just really fluffy <3 swearing, tho!

tropes: fluff, friends to lovers, sort of canon compliant, first kiss

summary: hazel’s had a crush on you forever. and it really comes to a boiling point when you and the girls go to tp and egg jeff's house. and when she, y'know, set offs a bomb.

a/n: was hazel knowing how to make a bomb hot…….. or was that just me?

word count: 1,144 words / 6,176 characters

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

hazel was watching you from afar; her eyes trailing up and down your figure. your cute, graphic tee to your lazy comfy sweatpants; which, she only knew your wore when you wanted to get messy. since, you only ever wore them during your art class. 

“hazel, your fucking staring her down,” pj glared at the girl beside her. “you're such a stalker.”

“I— i am not!” hazel hissed back, “I’m… gonna go work on that bomb now.”

meanwhile, you were sort of watching her too. the way her eyes creased together into somewhat of an angry look; but you didn’t think you'd ever seen hazel callahan truly angry. 

that was besides the point.

you thought she was adorable, to which, she was. 

and those thoughts were now dragging you toward jeff's car, where hazel was slipped under. her marked up convers were hanging out from the top of the car.

“hey, hazel.”

the car almost jerked up, and you heard a “fuck” from under the car. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, though you did wonder if she was okay. 

“you okay, hazel? I didn’t mean to spook you. probably should have thought about that before I came up on someone under a car, huh?” you chuckle in response.

“I-it’s fine,” she says from under the car, her voice choked up. she was nervous, and her face was best red—glad that it was hidden under the body of the car. 

“you sure?” you cock your head, bending down to be sat on your knees. “that sounded kinda painful.”

hazel hums a little, “mm-hm!” in a response. she slides out from under the car for a moment. she wanted to see your beautiful face, even if hers was currently covered in soot and ash.

and even if it was beat red.

than a loud, shrill beep sounded from under the car.

“um, hazel, is that something we should be concerned about——“

out of instinct, she grasps your hand tight. she pulls herself to her feet, as well as you, and begins to charge for their “getaway” car. she slides into the backseat, pulling you in beside her.

after a few seconds, you feel her hand still clasped around yours. It made your heart beat a million miles a minute, her rough, coarse hands rubbing against yours. In comparison, yours were small and soft. holding a hand like hazel's felt…

… nice.

a few moments later, you feel those same hands covering your ears, pulling your head close to the crook of her neck. instead of covering her own ears, she covered yours, as if you didn’t have the hands to do so.

she was so cute. so thoughtful…

you two were, as of now, in the car alone. despite the damn bomb going off; the girls still hadn’t hopped back in the car, hadn’t driven away.

that left you alone with a hot girl you had a crush on. 

and you were pretty sure she liked you, too.

“so,” you gently nudge your knee against hazel’s. “how the hell do you know how to make a bomb?” you scoff, glancing at her with a playful expression.

“Its… not that hard,” she laughs, looking bashful as ever. “not like I’m some child genius.”

“still impressive,” you nudge your knee against her's again, causing her to look up at you, “learn that in robotics, or somethin’?”

she shrugs, “um, the mechanics of the it, sure,” hazel clears her throat. “rest online…”

“it’s.. it’s. yeah, it’s cool.” you smile softly. you gaze at her, maybe for a moment too long, your eyes locked together. “hazel… I… um—“

your words are cut off. 

the rest of the girls slide into the car. 

two more slide into the back, isabel and brittany. they pressed the two girls closer together, your thigh pressed gently against hazel’s. it made you blush, sure, but—it felt good. It felt… right.

you and hazel glance at each other, laughing softly. it’s a knowing laugh. you know what you were going to say; and you hoped you'd get the chance to finish it later. It was hazel's car that they were driving in, after all. they'd have to drop isabel and brittany off, drop pj off, let josie drive herself home than—

—it would be just you two.

twenty minutes of driving later and it’s just the two of you. you’ve moved into the drivers and passengers seat, the only sound between you two for a moment is the sound of the heater in hazel’s car rumbling to keep you warm in the cold weather.

“.. I have a feeling you knew what I was gonna say.. don’t you?” you chuckle, your cheeks bright red as you gaze out the windshield in front of you.

“.. I-I could guess,” hazel murmurs, her fingers tapping against the leather steering wheel. “because I kind wanted to say it, too.”

you pause. you had a feeling that it was reciprocated, but god to hear it out loud…

“well, than..” you whisper, “good to know.”

hazel chuckles, “yeah.. that’s pretty good to know.”

you laugh right back, realizing how stupid your words actually sounded.

you grab your purse as the car comes to a stop outside your large house. you open the passengers door, stepping outside the car.

and, unsurprisingly, hazel has followed you.

“so,” your eyes trail up her body, landing on her beautiful blue eyes. “could I say it’s pretty evident that i’d really like to kiss you right now?”

“you.. could say that.” hazel murmured, resting a hand on your cheek. she began to lean down, considering your height difference. her lips where inches from yours. “can I—“

before she gets to finish her question, you gently press your lips against hers. they’re warm; and taste almost like a hint of vanilla lipgloss. 

It was good. It was all so good. It felt like your insides were exploding, from the idea. your stomach squirming, your hands twitching on the back of hazel’s neck—which, you were sure she could feel.

when you pulled back, you took in a little gasp of air.

“a date, than?” you prompt, smiling. “how does tomorrow sound?”

“tomorrow?” her eyes light up at the thought. she didn’t think you’d wanna go on a date with her that soon. “sounds perfect. I—I’ll come and pick you up?”

“amazing,” you nod your head, giving her a smile and a wave over your shoulder as you walk toward your house. 

she watched as you slipped inside, leaning against her car with her arms folded. the idea that such an amazing girl would like… her? the loser masc lesbian is who nobody talked to?

the idea was foreign to her.

yet here you were, kissing her and asking her on a date. 

it was all so… amazing, to her.

she couldn’t wait. not one second.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #lesbian #sapphic #wlw #fanfic #oneshot #x reader

[diagonal-queen]

Omg you're backkkk<3 I hope uni's going well for you!

Maybe the Hunting Dogs with a s/o who's kind of mean/petty?

Hunting Dogs with a mean S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are the Hunting Dogs with a mean and petty S/O?

♡ cw: Swearing, u r a BULLY >:((, dw it's pretty chill though, non-graphic NSFW with Jouno, teensy bit of NSFW with Tachihara, mentions of violence, crime and torture

note: ahhh hello yes i'm back! uni's pretty great actually. i love being able to tell people i go to law school lmao, it makes me feel smarter than i am. uhh but i've been swamped and a bit busy, and i'm going back home for a week so i might not be super active over the next couple weeks, i'm so sorry my babies </3 but i'll still be lurking in case you wanna chat! as always, apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

Mf you think he cares?? He hired Jouno and Tachihara because they committed crimes, and he's more than happy to keep Teruko around. Bro doesn't give a FUCK that you're mean

If you're dating Fukuchi you clearly do give a shit about the welfare of society and world peace, so your individual quirks are just that. Quirks

He will fully let you just be a dickhead sometimes, because...like, why not?

I feel like Fukuchi is obviously often a very intimidating individual who strikes fear and commands respect from everyone else. But you? You just walk all over him

In some ways for him it's probably kind of refreshing to have someone around him who doesn't idolise him at all, or look up to him as a superior. It gets exhausting, for sure. Sometimes he just wants to be humbled and that's so okay Fukuchi, you deserve it actually /mean-spirited and condescending

Don't get me wrong it's not like you're an abusive partner! You're still obviously nice to your partner and you love him, but you definitely don't go out of your way to sugarcoat things or try to avoid any necessary confrontations

And Fukuchi genuinely really respects that about you. He's pretty similar like that, though still definitely goofier than you

I mean he won't want you sitting around with an RBF when he's at formal events and whatnot, because that really wouldn't have the best impression, but he's usually very gung ho about letting you be yourself

You're lucky he loves you man...lmao

Jouno:

He loves it. Full stop.

You two are just sadist central over here. Like he'll be torturing a suspect and you're just watching. Bored. Not a care in the world

(Jouno, I don't think you're legally allowed to invite your partner to watch you do your job- much less one like this, but...eh...)

You two are always just talking shit about people to each other, and like when you're out in public on dates you're just whispering to each other and judging people T-T

Lowkey kinda gets turned on when you guys argue. He thinks it's hot when you get heated and angry. Usually it ends in rough "passionate hugging", and the pillowtalk is when you both actually resolve the issue (dumbasses)

He might even purposefully rile you up sometimes because mf is just THAT much of a horny degenerate. You guys can call him classy and gentlemanly all you want, but we all know he's secretly deranged

Like an angry, horny goblin with a knife...someone stop him

Tbh you should probably bully him a little bit every now and then. I think he needs to be taken down a peg sometimes

Hey, he's more likely to listen to you than Tecchou, isn't he? Besides, it's nothing genuinely malicious. Just couple's banter

Oh, you guys are fucking LEGENDS at the couple's banter. Though you never do it in public, because a lot of the times the things you both tell each other as jokes can come off as really cruel jabs

Nah your senses of humour are just not family-friendly (violent and malicious)

You guys have very strange ways of showing your love and affection. But, hey, it works for you and that's what's important :)

Tecchou:

Ah yes, arguably the least meanie of all of the Hunting Dogs. Yeah uh he doesn't really like you at first

Tecchou doesn't understand being mean just for the sake of it. I mean like, for Teruko, she uses it in her career, and Jouno is sadistic and weird and also uses it in his career. You're just petty because you can be

But the more time you spend together the more he realises that you're really not that bad- you're really just more of the loveable asshole type

An acquired taste, yes, but this is Tecchou we're talking about! That's his thing!

He learns to appreciate the things about you that many others would probably consider flaws. He influences you for the better definitely...

...BUT you also kinda make him worse

He will adopt your 'deal with it bitch' attitude sometimes, but it doesn't hinder his relationships or work so it's fiiiiine

(Jouno isn't a huge fan of it though...but at the same time he kind of respects you)

Tecchou probably won't admit it but he really likes to listen to you rant and bitch about people you don't like. He just likes to listen to you be angry about trivial things, he finds it equal parts endearing and entertaining

If you're mean to someone who deserves it? Well I mean...who is he to stop you?

At the end of the day you're definitely emotionally self-sufficient, so that's one less part of you for him to fret over. All's well that ends well or some shit idk

Teruko (platonic):

You guys are literally the best of friends

She's the loud fiery kind of mean and you are the 'I will straight up meticulously ruin your life' kind of mean

You on some r/nuclearrevenge type shit and she fucking loves that for you

Like she's fully willing to plot and scheme with you and do whatever mean shit you suggest. You two are menaces and she should absolutely not be a military soldier

Teruko WILL smite your enemies. And by smite your enemies I mean she will actively do what she can to ruin the lives of people you don't like, with absolutely no remorse (pretty sure she actually commits crimes to do this)

She LIVES for your cruel one-liners and clever insults. Every time she hears one she absolutely hollers

Teruko enjoys it when you're mean to the other Hunting Dogs (except Fukuchi). They can handle a couple bitchy words so it's not a huge deal, but she's just extra amused by it

For the record you're not *mean* mean, you're just...humbling them (which let's be real they could use from time to time (Jouno, again, looking at you))

Nobody is surprised by your guys' friendship really

You're a dangerous pair. Please stop

Teruko kinda likes that you hold grudges so frequently because she'll never tire of hearing you shittalk the same exact people and events over and over again

She'll shittalk them too

Dia doesn't approve of this friendship

Tachihara:

You guys know that scene in B99 where Jake says that he can't decide if he's scared of Amy or turned on by her and then decides that he's both? Yea, that's Tachihara with you

He is a good person at heart, and outside of his mafia gangster persona he's really not that mean, and as such he does not encourage mean behaviour. But like, when you do it? Mm...

Bro is WHIPPED

Lowkey he probably gets some of his mafia persona ideas from you 💀

His mafia coworkers have no questions about how you two get along, and they generally like you. The other Hunting Dogs have a few more questions

Tachihara isn't some shy, quiet introvert, but he is generally pretty chill and a nice person. They like to playfully tease him about how different the two of you are (though if it gets too far he knows he can count on you to rip them a new one with no issue)

Dw they still like you though! Especially Teruko

He has absolutely no problems with you for being cold and blunt. It's nothing he himself can't handle, and in some ways it actually makes talking to you easier

Again, I'll stress that you're not mean to him, you're just not the most lovey-dovey person out there. But you DO put effort in and that's what Tachihara cares about, even if it isn't in a stereotypical way

If anything else, you're certainly loyal!

Tachihara loves you for all of your different eccentricities, and he's also kinda turned on by them. Win-win? Win-win.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bsd fanfiction #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #fanfiction #bsd fluff #headcanons #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs fanfic #bsd x reader #gn reader #bsd x gn reader #bsd fukuchi #fukuchi ouchi #fukuchi x reader #bsd jouno #jouno saigiku #jouno x reader #bsd tecchou #tecchou suehiro #tecchou x reader #bsd teruko #teruko okura #bsd tachihara #tachihara michizou #tachihara x reader

[daizymax]

a little pampering | lfl (m)

summary: your kind, attentive boyfriend helps you unwind after a long day with a massage and a little more.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 5.6k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established (but new) relationship; profanity; mentions of food; graphic sexual content; clit play & vaginal fingering; some breast & nipple play; a tiny bit of spit play & finger sucking; dirty talk; oral (m receiving); penetrative piv sex with condom use

author’s note: re-written, re-titled and re-uploaded from my old blog. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

Technically he has good timing, but as you set your things down and kick off your shoes, you aren’t sure if you’re really in the mood to answer his call. Not after the day you’ve had. But it’s Felix, and the relationship is still new, so you answer anyway.

“Hey.”

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

Normally you don’t mind how observant he is; that’s one of the things you have come to admire about him. But you don’t want to unpack your hard day on him, so you feign ignorance.

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine,” you say, then promptly change the subject. “I just got home. How was your day?”

“It was alright,” Felix answers pleasantly. His smooth, deep voice is always soothing. Just a few words from him and you’re already feeling your mood lift a little. “I was just calling to see how your day was. When you didn’t answer my last text, I figured it turned into a rough one towards the end.”

You ignore his correct suspicion for the time being to quickly check your messages. There it is, the missed text from a few hours ago asking if the two of you could meet up for dinner tonight.

“Shit, I’m just now seeing it,” you say. “You’re right, work was rough and I was just crazy busy this afternoon, I’m sorry.”

“No worries! Does dinner sound alright, though? We can go anywhere you want.” When you make a noise somewhere between a ponderous hum and a non-committal grunt, Felix laughs knowingly. “Okay, that’s fine.”

His easy acceptance of your hesitation doesn’t make you feel better. If anything, it only makes you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I just don’t really feel up to going out tonight. I’m tired and my neck is killing me. I kind of just want to stand under a hot shower for, like, half an hour, then pass out in bed.”

“Ah, poor thing. Can I at least bring you dinner, if I promise not to overstay my welcome? I’d still love to see you tonight, even for just a little while?”

His offer is sweet, but you don’t exactly like the way he’s pressing to see you tonight. Even when worded as questions, even with his assurance that he won’t stay too long, it comes off as kind of pushy to you. But to be fair, Felix has been nothing but respectful and understanding and kind to you in the couple months you’ve been dating him. Is a well-intentioned offer really something to refuse? Or something worth getting into an argument over?

You blame your sour thoughts on your terrible day and decide you probably would feel a little better if you let him dote on you with a simple meal and some company, so you accept his offer on the condition that he bring enough food for himself as well.

---

Felix arrives at your door with two bags of food and a smile.

Even after his own long day of work, he looks fresh and pretty. His blond hair is parted, freckles on full display against his honey skin. He smells good, too. Something clean and floral wafts into your nostrils, even through the smell of the food.

“Hey you,” you say. “Thanks again for bringing dinner, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hey you,” he echoes, stepping inside when you allow him by. “It’s my pleasure, really. Thanks for letting me come over. I hope you don’t mind, I brought dessert, too. Nothing special, just some ice cream. If we don’t eat it tonight, you can just keep it and save it for another time.”

You thank him again for the thoughtful gesture, and he wastes no time helping you put dessert into the freezer before dispensing the rest of the food onto some plates.

By the time the two of you settle across the table from each other, you feel silly for your negative thoughts earlier, even if they were brief. Maybe one day you will decline his company, but right now, this feels exactly like what you need: a nice meal and your boyfriend’s comforting presence.

“This is really great, Felix.”

He beams. “Dig in, babe.”

You expect him to ask for the details of your stressful day, but he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he talks of his own day, and you learn a few new tidbits of information about him as he talks — the way he likes his coffee (extremely sweet), the time of day he showers (in the mornings, though he thinks nights would be better actually), the amount of time it takes for him to commute to and from work (about 20 minutes each way). It’s odd how mundane things like that are always fascinating at the start of a relationship.

Partway through the conversation, you stretch your stiff neck, and Felix notices your discomfort. He lumps his mouthful of food into one cheek and asks, “So what did you do to your neck?”

“I don’t even know,” you mutter. “It’s been a few days now. I don’t know if I slept on it wrong or what.”

“Poor thing,” he tuts again. “You’re probably ready for that shower. I’m just about done here, I can go ahead and show myself out and leave you to your rest.”

“No, stay,” you blurt. “I mean, I do really want to shower, but maybe we can watch a movie or a show or something when I’m done, if you want?”

He looks a little surprised at your suggestion. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you’re sure I won’t be overstaying my welcome? I really don’t mind if you want to kick me out now so you can get on with your evening. You don’t have to—”

You reach over the table to brush your fingertips over his knuckles, and he promptly shuts his mouth. “Felix, it’s okay. I want you to say, if you want to stay.”

He smiles and relaxes. “Alright, cool.”

After the table is cleared, you insist he make himself comfortable in the living room and find something for the two of you to watch when you return.

The pressure of the hot water and the encapsulating steam is everything you’ve been dreaming of all afternoon. And even though you have lovely company waiting, you decide to take your time and savor the water pelting your aching muscles until it turns lukewarm and you drag yourself back out to dry off and put on some comfortable clothes.

Felix certainly looks comfortable perched on your couch. He smiles brightly again when he sees you. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”

You stretch your neck experimentally. “Physically? Not really. Mentally? So much better.”

“Well that’s something, at least.” He fluffs open the blanket on his lap and says, “Come here.”

The scene is too tempting to resist. You cozy up beside him and wrap your arms around his middle as he does the same with you.

Felix sighs, then you hear him inhale softly. “You smell good.”

“So do you,” you say, sniffing his sleeve.

“Thanks.” He shifts one arm to reach for the remote on the table beside him. “Is Sci-Fi okay?”

You nod and lay your cheek against his shoulder. “Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

Half an hour into the show, your neck twinges in protest over your otherwise comfortable position, and you groan quietly as you pull yourself up to sit up straight. You’d been so content to cuddle with your warm, pretty boyfriend.

Felix pauses the show and looks over at you. “You okay?”

Before you can answer him, you bump your fingers into his hand when he reaches for the back of your neck first. His fingers are soft, and you can’t help but sigh at the tender pressure he puts on the sore tendons.

“You do feel tight. Tense,” he says, gazing at your skin in concern while he rubs gentle little circles into it with his thumb. “I might be able to help a little more than the shower did, if you want.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You do massages?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been told once or twice that I’m decent at it. Think it’s worth a shot?”

You shrug back. “Yeah, sure, why not. Thanks, baby.”

Once you’ve situated yourself so that your back is facing him, Felix places his hand at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Right here, isn’t it? Down into your shoulder, too,” he says, measuring the damage with delicate prods of his fingertips.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter, then clear your throat. “Yeah, like all along there.”

With that confirmation, he takes a firmer grasp of your knotted muscles to try and smooth them out. You hiss at the sensation, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Felix hums knowingly. “Sorry. Try to relax, but tell me if it hurts too much.”

He takes hold of your opposite shoulder just to steady you as he works the pained one. He rolls his fingers along the column of your neck, pressing his thumb at the base of your skull with a calculated pressure, then pinches the muscle of your shoulder.

“Feel okay?” he checks when you let out an indecipherable sound.

“It does hurt a bit,” you admit, “but it feels good, too.”

“Good.”

He repeats his motions over and over until he’s built up a nice rhythm of gentle squeezes up and down your neck and firmer, longer squeezes along your shoulder. You start to feel weightless, boneless, and you lean into his chest at the lulling ministrations.

At one point he sweetly kisses the side of your head without pausing his work, and it occurs to you then that you haven’t kissed him in days.

To remedy that, you start by turning your head towards him. Felix smiles when he meets your eyes, and you lean closer to kiss his lips. He doesn’t have time to react outside of a tiny, surprised grunt before you’re pulling away with a pleased grin.

He grins back wider. “Another,” he says, puckering his plump lips into a cute, inviting pout.

You giggle and oblige, this time holding the position longer. He kisses you back with the smallest movement of his jaw. Greedily, you decide it isn’t enough, so you reach to hold the back of his head and part your lips further to coax him into doing the same.

A sigh through his nose breaks across your cheek at the same time the tip of his tongue dips between your lips. You meet it softly, deepening the motion by tilting your head even more so there can be no gap between you.

The quiet sounds of your lips breaking and reconnecting fills your ears soothingly. His fingers have stopped massaging you in favor of simply holding you close to him, but you don’t mind. In fact, you’re already thinking of a better place for him to put them right now.

When you start to guide his hand down to your chest, Felix whispers your name against your lips. He doesn’t elaborate, and you’re not sure what he thinks he’s trying to say, but you don’t comment back.

Instead, you cup your hand over his and squeeze so he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t say anything more, just fondles your breast as requested by your body language. You arch into his touch and moan into his mouth, partly for sexy effect to keep him going, but mostly because it’s exciting to have him touch you like this for the first time.

Your moan encourages him, just as you suspected it might, and he adjusts his hold on your breast to run his thumb across the nipple starting to poke through your thin shirt. He doesn’t mention the lack of a bra, but you can tell he finds the easy access exciting by the way he hums again. He switches to your other breast to pay it some equal attention, rolling your stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger gingerly, then pinching it just to hear you react with a light gasp.

“I’m really glad you let me come over tonight, Y/N,” Felix takes the time to mention, as though this makeout and groping session is the highlight of his whole day. The thought makes you want to take things even further.

“Me too.” You twist your torso to face him even more, and his hand slips from your breast to your lap. “Felix? I want you, baby.”

He licks his already wet lips, dark eyes shimmering as he glances between each of yours. “You mean… have sex? Right now?”

You nod silently, and there is a split second of hesitation on Felix’s part where you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he swears under his breath and surges forward into another kiss, feverish with new intent this time.

He returns his hand to your clothed chest without guidance this time, but you think of something even better, so you bring his hand up through the bottom of your shirt instead. You’re sure your own body temperature is rising with your desire, but his palm is nearly searing on your bare skin.

He starts to lose focus on kissing while he’s feeling you up, and so do you. Every roll and tweak and squeeze sends a pulse of arousal between your legs. It gets to the point that you start rubbing your thighs together needily, and Felix — being the kind, thoughtful, observant person he is — takes notice.

“Fuck, babe,” he swears. His hand smooths down your warm stomach to the band of your leggings and stops there. “Getting kind of horny?”

You giggle because he sounds kind of precious saying it aloud. It’s already been established that you want to have sex with him — of course you’re horny.

“More like a lot,” you say, nipping his bottom lip with your teeth.

Felix smirks deviously. “Hm. I see. Let me help you with that, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t push his fingers into your pants right away. Instead, he cups your pussy over your clothing with a confidence that both surprises and delights you. Then he starts to drag his fingers up and down, back and forth. Your toes curl and loosen depending on the pressure of his moving fingers and how often he brushes across your swelling clit. You’re barely kissing him at all at this point; more like hovering right against his lips, which are still smirking ever so slightly.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah.” You spread your legs a little wider, and Felix uses the extra space to grind the heel of his palm over your clit now. “Oh fuck,” you gasp over the new, rougher sensation.

Unlike with the massage he was giving you, he does not build up a steady, diligent rhythm of repetitive motions. He alternates without pattern between the grinding of his palm and the tickling of his fingers along your covered slit. It feels unbelievably, surprisingly good, but you’re getting frustrated by both the teasing and the barriers separating your burning skin from his.

“Felix,” you whimper. “I need more, please...”

“I know, I’ve got you.” He finally dives his hand into your pants, but he still only touches you over your underwear. “Mm, this does feel good, doesn’t it?” he says, alluding to how damp and sticky you’ve become. He traps your swollen clit between his index and middle finger and gives it a vibrating shake, and your thighs automatically clamp together on his hand, which makes him chuckle. “You still seem tense, Y/N. Relax for me. I’m taking care of you. Gonna make you come just like this.”

The whine you let out is pitiful even to your own ears. How easily he’s turned you to putty in his capable hands.

He wraps one arm across your stomach while the other flexes beneath the blanket at your crotch. You can’t see anything he’s doing down there, but you can sure as hell feel it all.

He keeps two fingers focused on your clit with tight, firm circles and increases his pace. Your soon-to-be-ruined panties not only add to the friction he is creating but also keep his fingers from slipping around too wildly. The concentrated pleasure races through your veins as fast as he can rub at the stiff, sensitive bundle of nerves.

The edge he’s been dragging you toward looms— “Right there! F-Felix… Please, j-just like that, please…”

“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart. Just let go,” he says. His voice is pitched lower than you’ve ever heard it, which very well could be what launches you straight into your body-tingling climax.

You gasp when it hits and clutch his forearm tightly — not to stop him, just to let him know, as if he couldn’t already tell you’re coming from the way you’re stuttering mindless expletives and desperately humping against his hand.

Felix almost moves his fingers away too soon, but you whimper and hold him in place for a little while longer to wring that last bit of ecstasy out. He coos something apologetic that you can’t quite make out through the static in your ears and continues drawing dwindling circles into your clit.

After a few more, he hooks his middle finger through the side of your panties and slowly glides it through your bare folds for the first time, from the bottom of your soaked opening, up between your puffy lips, all the way to your clit still pulsing at the top. You twitch weakly at the onset of sensitivity, but he doesn’t linger or torment you with overstimulation; his finger is gone almost as quickly as it came.

You slump against him, and Felix presses a sweet kiss to the first part of you he can reach, which is your sweaty temple.

“You’re amazing, Y/N. Feeling alright?”

In the midst of calming down and catching your breath, you have to laugh at his compliment when he was the one who did all the work.

“Yeah, I feel great. That was so good.”

“Good. There’s more orgasms where that came from, if you’re up for it.” He plants another quick peck on the crown of your head and gives your pussy one last pat through your panties with a flat, open palm before finally withdrawing from the cramped, humid space of your pants.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder again and give his lips a quick kiss. “I think it’s your turn for some pampering now.”

Felix doesn’t protest, only shifts with you as you transition from sitting between his legs on the couch to kneeling between his legs on the floor.

“Is this okay?” you ask, rubbing one of his knees.

Your pretty boyfriend nods. “Yeah, definitely.”

You start to run your hand up his thigh towards the enticing bulge between his legs, but he puts a hand over yours to stop you. You give him a concerned look because you thought he was good with this; he just said so.

“Listen, I’m not, like… impressive, okay?” he says.

Oh. That’s what he’s worried about? The size of his dick? The thought of him being self-conscious about it saddens you, honestly.

You give his thigh a squeeze. It feels firm and warm to your touch. “I’m not the kind of person to rate your dick based on size, baby. I promise you.”

Felix smiles shyly, face flushed pink. “I know, I know. I know it’s about how I use it. I guess I just wanted to, I don’t know, warn you? Not warn you but, like, prepare you, or something?”

He’s nervous, which in and of itself is completely understandable. This is the first time you’ll be seeing his dick. He wants to make a good first impression, and his size is one of the first things you’ll notice. You don’t want him to worry about it, though, so you go back to reaching for the zipper on his pants, and he lets go of your hand.

“Trust me, I’m more than prepared to suck you off, baby,” you say with a grin.

“What about your neck?” he asks.

“I’ll be alright.” A little soreness in your neck is not going to stop you from doing this. No way.

Felix lets out a breathy laugh at your determination and lifts his hips to help you get his pants down. His dick twitches beneath his boxers when you reach for them next.

As soon as you remove them, you think you can see what he was talking about. There are certainly longer and thicker cocks out there, and maybe he is slightly smaller than what could be considered ‘average,’ but by god, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen a prettier cock in your life. It’s rock solid, wrapped in a plump vein, and the tip is blushing a darker shade of pink than his face. You’re already more than pleased with it.

“Baby, your dick is perfect,” you say, reaching for it. He’ll probably think you’re exaggerating for the sake of his confidence, so you elaborate, “Perfect for me to swallow whole, and more than enough to fill me up. It’ll feel amazing to have you fuck me hard from behind, or with my legs on your shoulders in missionary, you know? You’d hit me just deep enough to hurt a little bit but not too much. You even fit perfectly in my hand. See?”

You swear you feel his cock pulse harder in your hold. The skin is so warm and smooth, silky yet stiff. You cannot wait to get your mouth on it, or have him stuff it in your pussy.

Felix breathes a short laugh; he sounds a little winded all of a sudden. “Fuck, I can’t wait to do all of that with you,” he says. His head falls back against the couch, and you’re glad to see him relaxing.

You nod. “Me either, baby. Can I start by swallowing you whole?”

Another twitch of his cock, which is clearly in agreement of its own, but you wait for his words.

“Yes, please,” he says, so politely.

You scoot a little closer on your knees, then bend forward to take his leaking tip into your mouth. Felix gasps as soon as you seal your lips around him, and he practically shivers when you lick at his slit. You love how sensitive and responsive he is. You can already see yourself worshiping his cock for hours. Maybe not tonight, but hopefully some time in the very near future.

It’s fun hearing his voice go from high-pitched and whiny to deep and almost tortured sounding, depending on whether you’re tracing the vein on his cock with your tongue or hollowing your cheeks around the flared mushroom head. He fits in your mouth so perfectly, just as you told him he would. His cock stretches your lips, but not enough to make your jaw sore; his length extends into your throat, but it’s not terribly troublesome to deep-throat him. It seems he especially loves breaching your throat and feeling the tight muscle flexing around his tip. Those sounds — the desperate little gasps — are quickly becoming your favorite.

Just when you’ve really gotten into a rhythm, however, he hisses “Wait wait wait,” and reaches out for your shoulder to gently ease your face away from his cock. It drops with a wet little plop against his lower stomach, glistening in your spit now.

“I’m gonna come if you keep going like that,” he says to your confused look, chuckling a little. “You’re actually about to suck my soul out.”

You laugh and rub his thighs. “I’m just taking care of you like you did for me.”

“I think I need to eat you out for ten minutes to even the score now.”

“There’s no score,” you say, still laughing, “but if you’d rather move on to something else, I have condoms in the bedroom.”

Felix sits up. “Lead the way.”

He leaves his pants and underwear behind on the living room floor, and you take his hand to bring him into your bedroom.

He’s been in here a couple times before already, but he’s never taken you by the hips and pulled you into a steamy kiss in here before. He’s never watched you strip your clothes for him in here before, or stripped his clothes for you in here before.

He’s never lowered you onto your mattress and followed on top of you before.

The feeling of his weight on yours is nice. His skin is so smooth and muscular; he’s been hiding those abs under his baggy clothes all this time. You kind of want to take more time to admire his body, but you’re not about to interrupt the feeling of his lips on your neck and throat; he’s found a sensitive spot, and it’s winding you up tighter to finally be fucked.

“Where’s the condoms, sweetheart?” Felix asks, as though he can hear your screaming thoughts. He scatters kisses along the tops of your breasts.

“In here,” you say, reaching for the drawer on your nightstand.

Felix reaches too, fingers bumping into yours as he finds one of the packets. He may have been nervous and self-conscious about his dick size, but he’s confident when he tears open the foil and tugs the latex over his erection. As soon as he’s ready to go, he asks, “So, did you want me to fuck you hard from behind, or missionary with your legs over my shoulders?”

God, he’s perfect.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you say.

He smirks again. It looks extra devious on his angelic face. “Alright, well, at the risk of being cheesy, I think I want to see your face when you come this time, so legs up it is.”

You giggle. “So cheesy, baby. But that’s fine with me.”

Felix helps you into position, practically pulling your legs up for you to get the backs of your knees hooked over his shoulders. The tip of his covered cock bumps against your inner thigh, then the entrance of your pussy. You can feel how wet you still are — and how hard he still is — just from that minimal contact. He brings a hand down to better line himself up, and you can’t help but whimper when he presses a little harder on your hole. So close, but still not close enough.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” you say.

He pushes in, slowly but all in one go. The angle is perfect for him to hit just the right spot inside your walls, just like you knew he would.

Felix’s eyes roll back in his head in pure bliss, and he hugs your thighs to help balance you and to brace himself against all this pleasure.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. He leans a little more of his weight forward, unintentionally testing the flexibility in your legs. His core strength is impressive. “Is this okay, babe? You good?”

You bring your hands up to cup his face and purposely clench your walls tighter around him. “I’m fantastic. You can move whenever you want.”

He does just that, retracting the tip of his cock to the edge of your entrance before sliding in deep again, nice and slow. His movements are even and firm, tip to base, over and over again as he acquaints your pussy with his cock and vice versa.

“Oh f-fuck,” you breathe. “That’s so f-fucking good, Felix, so fucking deep.”

He groans and drops his hands from your thighs to plant his fists in the mattress instead. He fucks you faster, harder, battering that sweet spot inside you and driving you into the mattress. You can feel his balls slapping against your ass with every powerful push, and you can feel that your arousal has already leaked onto them, too. There’s going to be a hell of a wet spot on your sheets later, but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Felix chants under his breath in time with his thrusts. His eyes have been closed since he started moving faster, but he opens them again now. You meet his gaze and bite your lip, and he leans in to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip between his own teeth. His lips graze across your cheek and down your neck.

“You feel amazing inside me,” you tell him, fingers twisting into his hair at the back of his head.

Felix brings his hands around to your backside to take your ass in his hands and hold you even closer to him. “Got me so fucking close already, Y/N,” he grunts into your mouth.

“Then come for me.”

He shakes his head; long, blond bangs sweeping the freckles on his cheeks. His thrusts stutter before evening out again. “Not before you. Will you touch yourself for me?”

You smile and nod, bringing two fingers up between your lips and accidentally bumping Felix’s lips in the process. He surprises you by catching them in his mouth immediately after you’ve wet them with your own.

“Jesus, baby,” you whisper, heavy gaze on the way he sucks your fingers so well, if only for a quick second or two.

His brown eyes are smoldering, burning into yours, and you nearly forget what he just asked you. He watches you bring your wet fingers down between your rocking bodies to finger your clit. Your walls instantly clench tighter around his cock, and he groans straight into your ear.

“So fucking t-tight, babe. Your pussy fits s-so perfectly around me, fuck.”

Felix takes your free hand and presses it into the mattress beside your head, leaning more of his weight into you again. Your legs are aching from maintaining this position, but it’s worth it to have him hitting your g-spot over and over again at this angle, and your orgasm is so fucking close now.

It’s clear Felix is close, too. His forehead and upper lip are dotted with sweat, his hips are getting more and more erratic, his breath is stuttering. He rakes his eyes from yours, down to your jiggling breasts, down to where your fingers are playing with your clit, and repeat.

“So gorgeous,” he whispers with a sweet peck to your lips. Far too sweet for the way he’s plowing you up the mattress, which somehow only pushes you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you moan, squeezing his hand tighter.

Felix squeezes back and goes in even faster, determined in his thrusts. “Do it, sweetheart. Come on my cock.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to do so. A few more perfect pushes against that sweet spot inside you and a few more flicks of your fingers and your orgasm quakes through you, hot and molten from your core all the way down — up — to your curled toes. You can’t help but tug Felix’s body even closer with your legs as you tremble through your high.

“God damn,” Felix swears as he watches you come; he couldn’t see it this well on the couch earlier. Your eyes are shut, mouth fallen open, body squirming under him from all the pleasure he’s helped bring you.

And your pussy, fuck. You can’t seem to stop clenching, and it draws out his own climax. He can barely get the words out to tell you. “Shit, c-coming, babe— ungh!”

He lodges his cock as deep as it can go and finally unloads his cum into the condom with a low grunt. You peek your eyes open in time to witness his own mouth dropped open in bliss. He gives a few more firm thrusts to finish off his orgasm, then gently eases your legs down. You wince a little as you become more aware of the muscles you’ve been straining, and Felix gently kneads your hips with his fingers.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Can’t feel my legs,” you pant, smiling up at him, “but in a good way. That was amazing. You okay?”

Felix is trying to catch his own breath, but he still giggles. “I’m great!” He runs his hands up your legs from ankles to hips, then gives the sides of your ass a couple pats. “Be right back.”

He hops off the bed with a surprising amount of energy and dashes into the bathroom to trash the condom. When he returns, he has a towel in hand.

“Is it okay to clean up with this?” he asks.

You give him a tired thumbs up, and he smiles as he helps clean up the lingering wetness between your legs. He tries to do something about the wet spot on the sheets, too, but you tell him not to worry about it; you’ll just change them in a bit.

For now, you reach out to bring him back into bed and into your arms, and he easily obliges.

“Just lie with me for a bit, please?” you murmur, halfway to sleep as you play with his hair.

Felix snuggles tighter against you and hums. “Of course.”

“Might pass out any second,” you warn him.

He kisses your throat. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Rest.”

You yawn. “Want you to stay with me.”

His body is so warm and solid. His voice is deep and honeyed. “I’m here. Right here.” A few beats of silence go by, then he adds, “I’m really glad you let me come over tonight, Y/N.”

You hum, “Me too,” just before drifting off.

---

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copyright © 2023 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

#felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #a little pampering #daizymax

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Safe Word- Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: Your boyfriend Matt decided to get a little too rough with you and you needed to use your safe word

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Smut, P in V, Unprotected sex (wrap it in a snickers wrapper if necessary and desperate), safe word, crying, rough!dom!Matt, Sub!fem!reader, degradation, praising.

A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!! This is kinda loosely based on that one scene from Fifty Shades of Grey when Ana uses her safe word!

PSA: DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR ANYTHING THIS IS MY WORK! I wrote this! dont use this for “inspiration” or anything else!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I had been teasing Matt all day. I purposely wore my sluttiest outfit to an LA party the triplets were invited to and of course, since Matt and I are a package deal I went with him. My outfit consisted of a tiny black latex skirt with a graphic baby Tee and black thigh-high heels. I knew he hated this outfit, he wasn't insecure, he just loved being possessive over me in a healthy manner. We hadn't had sex in about a week, our schedules were not matching this week to give us any time together besides when we both got home we were too tired for anything else besides sleeping. All in all, we were both sexually frustrated and I desperately needed to be dicked the fuck down by him.

The music was loud and the lights in the enclosed venue were nonexistent beside the area lights that were flashing colors around the place, and with all the drunken people around I doubted anyone was looking at me anyway.

Matts's hands gripped my waist pulling me closer to him as my hips swayed to the music and loosened my body from the lack of freedom I've had.

“When we get home I need you faced down and ass up” Matt growled in my ear placing a small kiss on my neckline making shivers go down my spine.

“I'm really feeling this party Matt so we should stay a while” I smiled devilishly knowing he couldn't wait any longer to have me all to himself.

My response only made his grip on my waist tighter. He let out a small grunt as he pushed my ass into his now very obvious boner.

“You feel that? you feel what your slutty little outfit does to me?” he whispers in my ear and softly nibbles at my ear.

“I honestly have no idea what you're talking about Matt,” I say smirking knowing damn well exactly what he meant.

“Fuck this” he says gripping my wrist softly and dragging me around the venue finding his brothers.

“Matt, what the fuck?” I say almost whining.

“Hey so Y/N isn’t feeling well, do you guys wanna come with me or do you want to call an Uber home when you wanna come home?” Matt questions his brothers still gripping my wrist as I sit there like a child being dragged around Walmart.

“Oh girl I'm sorry, too much alcohol?” Nick says laughing.

“No actually-” i start before Matt interrupts me.

“Yes she had a little too much and doesn't realize she had that much” Matt says looking at me with disapproval.

“Just call an uber Matt” Chris says as his arm is wrapped around some girl he probably just met tonight.

Matt nods and pushes through the crowd of people still grabbing my wrist. We find our way to the car he opens the door for me practically shoving me into the passenger side as he gets in the driver's side.

Matt pulls out of the parking lot at a rather concerning speed making my head jolt back “Jesus Matt could you at least be safe getting us home… fuck” I say in annoyance.

Matt doesn't reply he just places his hand on my upper thigh and softly grips it. I place my hand on top of his holding his intex and middle finger.

Matt speeds through the interstate hurrying to get him only making me wetter and wetter by the second, questioning in my mind all the things he'd do to me. How he would thrust his cock deep into me, the way he would have his arms around my waist so tightly, thinking about all the nastiest shit he would whisper in my ear as his cock hits all the right places in me. All these things pacing through my head make my thighs subconsciously squeeze together which matt obviously caught on.

“Such a dirty fucking whore” he whispers under his breath.

My lower lip gets trapped in my teeth at his words, i. Always loved the way his voice got lower as he spoke to me sexually.

After what felt like hours we finally arrived at the house, quickly ran around to grab my door for me and once again, he gripped my wrist softly yet firmly as he unlocked the door and guided me to our bedroom.

Matt's eyes darken with more than just lust, he slowly creeps up behind me and rips my shirt right in half making me squeal.

“Matt are you serious” my jaw dropped to the floor watching my shirt fall off my arms.

He once again didn't answer and unclipped my bra allowing it to fall off my shoulders and down to the floor. His hands crept their way to my hips dropping my skirt off from them as i step out of my skirt.

He pushed me down on the bed by my shoulders and used my ankles which were dangling off the bed to flip me over with my ass in the air and my face in the mattress.

This has got to be the quickest this man has undressed. In no time his cock was free slapping his stomach and he was completely bare. He quickly spit in his own hand rubbing his spit down his shaft and spreading it around. He moves a little closer to me using the excess spit from his hand and spreading it around my folds making my hips jerk forward and sending a smirk to his face at my reaction.

He aligns his cock with my entrance and immediately bottoms out. “You think you're so fucking cute” he grunts out as his hand pushes my head down on the mattress as he thrusts his hips into mine. “Teasing me all fucking day huh? You think you're all innocent? Making everything think you're a sweet innocent little whore? You want everyone to know you're a fucking slut” he spits as my head further into the mattress.

The room was filled with my moans and cries of pleasure and the sound of my ass recoiling from his hips as he thrusts into me at an almost ungodly pace.

“MATT” I muffle out.

“Oh, you like that? You like my fucking dick being shoved so deep in your tight pussy” he groans out.

“MPHF- MA-MATT” Tears form in my eyes as his hand repeatedly smacks my ass leaving a red and white handprint on my ass as his cock abuses my cervix.

“Such a dumb fucking slut already” he laughs out as his grip on the back of my throat gets tighter.

“BUTTERFLY” i scream out with tears streaming down my face, lifting my head to the best of my ability which sends Matt into a panic, and immediately pull out and flipping me over to face him.

“Baby? Are you okay? did i hurt you?” his hands cup my cheeks wiping away the tears that had been pouring out of my eyes.

“Y-y-yes” i whisper out as i flince at his touch.

“S-shit” he studders out “Where did I hurt you, my love?” his voice softens.

“Y-you h-had y-y-your hand o-on the back of my-my throat a little too tight” My breathing shudders “I-i I couldn't breathe” I sniffle out.

“I-am so sorry sweetheart, you know i would never internally hurt you, i-i-i just got carried away” he looks down fiddling his fingers.

“N-no i-i-i know..” my voice trails off as my eyes water.

“Come here” he opens his arms for me to lie in them as his hands run through my hair. “I'm so so sorry” he whispers.

“I-its okay” as i bury my head in his chest.

“Sh sh, don't speak” he kisses my head. “I was too rough with you, you felt the need to use your safe word” his voice cracks as tears of his own start forming in his eyes. “I promise you i won't be that rough with you again” he kisses my head again.

I lift my head up a little “n-no i like when you're rough i just like my ability to breathe matt” i softly smile.

He returns a smile before placing a loving small kiss on my lips and laying back as my head lays back on his chest.

“I love you” he whispers out slowly massaging my scalp.

“I love you too” I mutter before falling fastly asleep in Matt's arms.

“I love you most” he replies kissing my head and also falling into a deep slumber of his own holding me the rest of the night.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/n Pt 2: AHH THIS ONEE I STG I JUST KEPT TYPING AWAY SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE!!!! And tysm again for over 500 followers!!!

XOXO

Gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

[lives-in-midgard]

An important question

Pairing: Evan Buckley x reader

Summary: When Buck comes home after a long shift at work, you spend time together and Buck asks you an important question.

Word Count: 507

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so happy that a lot of people liked my first Buck x reader headcanon and I hope you like this short fanfic too!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

911 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You and Buck had been dating for a few months and were happier than ever. After work, he sometimes comes to your apartment or you drive to him.

Today you were already at his apartment cooking his favorite meal for when he gets home after his long shift at work. Dinner was already in the oven when you heard Buck open the apartment door.

When Buck opened the door, he could smell what you were cooking and immediately started to smile because he knew you were here. Buck walked into the kitchen with a big smile on his face.

“Hey babe.”

“Hey Buck.” You said with a smile and walked closer to him. Buck pulled you into a hug, holding you close to him.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He murmured, then kissed your forehead gently.

“Rough shift?” You looked up at him and he nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked and he shook his head. You placed your hand on his cheek and then said.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to. How about we cuddle and watch a movie after dinner?”

“That sounds perfect.” Buck smiled and pulled you into a passionate kiss. Then you had dinner and did exactly what you suggested. You snuggled up in bed with your head on his chest and Buck started playing with your hair while you watched a movie. After the movie ended Buck turned the TV off and kissed your forehead. A few minutes later you were both asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you were still cuddled up to Buck.

“Good morning, babe.” He mumbled, rubbing your back softly.

“Morning, honey.” You said, looking up at him and Buck started to smile.

“I love you so much.” Buck suddenly said.

“And I love you.” You told him, then Buck tucked a hair behind your ear and kissed you. You turned away and cuddled for a few more minutes.

“There is something I wanted to ask you for a while now.” Buck broke the silence.

“Oh, what is it?” You asked, sitting up, so that the two of you were now sitting next to each other.

“I was thinking, how about you move in here.”

“Are you sure, you know I can be chaotic sometimes.” You said, making Buck chuckle.

“Of course, I’m sure. I would love to go to sleep and wake up next to you every day and when I came home yesterday after that long and exhausting shift, I was so happy to see you.” You smiled but were quiet for a moment.

“You don’t have to decide now if you’re not sure.” He continued to say.

“No, I want to move in with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I would love to.” You said, feeling so happy to make the next big step with Buck. Later that day, you and Buck talked about when you wanted to move into his apartment. You are both so happy together and can’t wait to spend more time with each other.

#evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x y/n #buck #buck x reader #buck x you #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley fluff #911 #911 on abc #911 on fox #911 x reader #911 fanfiction #911 fanfic #911 imagine #oliver stark

[forever-rogue]

hey :) i recently discovered your blog and read your joel fics. let me just say that i love how you portray him, it feels so genuine. i haven’t seen any request guideline or anything but i thought i could still send one. feel free to turn it down or change it tho.

what about joel being in a relationship with a much younger reader and he’s a bit insecure. he knows he’s old, he has scars all over his body and rough hands, etc…and she’s pretty much the opposite. it results in him just avoiding her a bit (if he has to change a shirt, he’ll make sure she is nowhere near for example) but one time he gets hurt and she refuses to let him “handle it”. quickly, she realizes how he can’t look at her, how ashamed he seems to be when he has to undress for her to look at the wound. he ends up admitting how he feels (in a very joel way but still) and she just shakes her head and shows him how much she loves him (nothing sexual though but maybe she kisses his scars and tells him she adores all those little “flaws” he sees)

hope this is okay, thanks :)

AN | This turned out pretty soft, but I hope like it 🥺

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Injury [non-graphic, but mentions blood]

Word Count | 3.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You liked Joel. You really liked him. Even despite the differences between the two of you, which seemed so vast at times, and despite what people had said about your relationship in the beginning. 

But there was always this sort of divide. You couldn't quite pinpoint it but it was always there. And you wished you could break it down, bit by bit just like you had done with so many other things. He didn't seem to want to let you in, no matter how much time you spent with him. In the end, you decided not to push it; if it happened it would happen. Otherwise you would just love him as best as you could, show him just how much he meant to you with everything you had.

You loved him, just as he was, and that was all that mattered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a late night that found you in your bed in Jackson all by yourself. It was winter, and it was cold; normally you could rely on Joel to be your personal heater but he was gone. You weren’t quite desperate enough to get up and turn on the heating, so instead you bundled up in a horde of blankets. You hoped that Ellie was warm enough but you knew that she would speak up if she was cold. 

You grabbed the pillow that Joel normally used, the one that always smelled like him, and hugged it to your chest. It almost made it seem like he was here…almost. 

But before you could manage to fall asleep and dream of him, the real Joel stumbled his way into the bedroom. You sat up with a start, immediately turning on the like on the bedside table, rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, “Joel?”

He grunted in response, still half hidden by the darkness of the night. But you knew him well enough to know that something was off. You slid out of the bed and walked over to him, mind already reeling with the hundreds of possibilities of what could have been wrong. When you were finally able to take a look at him, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Joel,” he looked at you, but you could tell he wasn’t quite there. The entire right side of his shirt was bloodied and you immediately knew that it was his blood; that idea made your stomach churn, “what happened?!”

“I’m fine,” he lied, waving his hand to try and brush you off. But you were having absolutely none of it, “just need a minute."

"You're not fine," you shook your head and reached for the hand on his uninjured side but he immediately flinched out of your reach, "Joel. Don't lie to me and say you're fine! You're hurt!"

"I can handle it," his answer came out in a hiss as he sat down at the edge of the bed, "I don't need you."

You recoiled for a moment, taken aback by his words and tone. But you quickly got over it when you realized it wasn't really him. He was injured and hurting…you really couldn't blame him.

"I don't want you to just handle it," you crouched in front of him, attempting in vain to try and get him to look at you. He refused; his dark gaze fell anywhere but on you, "you don't always have to do things alone, Joel. I'm here for you, I l-"

"Don't," he stiffened as you sighed softly. He hadn't let you say those words to him yet. He'd never said them to you either. It wasn't really a big deal to you; he showed you his love in so many other ways, through everything he did. But right now, you thought he might just need to hear it, "get out."

"What?" Your eyes widened in hurt and you felt tears start to well up and prickle at the back of your eyes. He'd never once been so harsh before.

"Please," he sighed as you stood up and studied him, "just get out for right now."

"Listen," your hands were on your hips in a position that mirrored the one he often pulled, "I know this is hard for you, letting someone else in. And I respect and am trying to understand your boundaries but you don't always have to push me away when things happen. I'm not going anywhere, I hope you would know that by now. You're my partner in every meaning of the word and I would never leave you. I want to be there for you, but I don't if you don't want me to be. So, I'll listen to you and I'll leave. But if you decide you need me, you know where I'll be."

He half expected you to go out and slam the door, but you didn't. Instead you walked slowly, shutting the door with as much grace as ever as he listened to you walk downstairs to the spare bedroom. Bereft of any logical thought, a heavy sigh escaped him. It would have been easier if you'd been mad and yelled, but instead you were kind as normal. He hated that - hated himself in that moment because it made him realize just how deeply he hurt you.

He got up and locked the door before hesitantly peeling off his shirt to try and tend to his wounds. He was almost glad they hurt…it was the least he deserved.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As soon as you stepped foot into the spare room, you let the tears you'd been holding in roll down your cheeks, trying to keep your cries quiet. You didn't want Ellie to hear and you certainly didn't need Joel to hear you either. 

You crawled into bed but found no comfort in it, finding it too hard, too cold, too empty. You were half tempted to go back to Joel and make him accept your help, but that wouldn't do anything helpful.

Instead you grabbed the extra pillow and hugged it to your chest, saddened when you realized it didn't smell like him. After you'd cried yourself out, you fell into a dreamless sleep. It was decidedly better than the alternative.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping before you heard the door creak open. Being a light sleeper was both a blessing and a curse. You thought that maybe it was Ellie needing something so you didn't think anything of it.

"Hey Ellie Bean, what's up?" you peeked an eye open as you blindly reached for the light switch. But when you turned it on and revealed your new guest, you made a soul sound of surprise, "Joel?"

"I'm sorry," he choked out, still standing in the doorway, unsure if he should stay or go, "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, my love," you threw the blankets back and slid out of bed, to walk to him. When you stood in front of him, his expression grew nervous, his eyes wide and worried. You reached up and touched his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, "c'mere."

You took his hand and pulled him towards the bathroom, no hesitation whatsoever. Joel inhaled deeply but followed you; he would always follow you.

You flicked on the bright, blinding light and motioned for him to sit on the toilet. He silently did as you wished and waited to see what you'd do next. God, he really just wished you'd be mad at him. He deserved it - at least in his mind.

You kneeled in front of him and studied him. His eyes were glossy, his face pale save for the dark circles under his eyes. His shirt was stained with dried and fresh blood, knuckles on his right hand busted. You swallowed thickly, but tried to keep it together. 

From under the sink, you grabbed the antiseptic and bandages and other supplies, setting them in front of you wordlessly. No words needed to be exchanged and he didn't flinch away when you reached for his hand. He momentarily marveled at how much smaller your hands looked in his. 

Joel watched as you cleaned his wounds, gentle and tender in your actions. You were his saving grace without a doubt.

"There we are," you finished bandaging his hand before setting back on his thigh. Your eyes flicked to his side and you realized you weren't sure what to do. In the end, your worry for him outweighed anything else. You touched the hem of his shirt and met his eyes, "may I?"

He looked away for a moment, hesitating and torn. But ultimately he knew what he should - and really wanted to - do, "yes. I trust you."

"Okay," you choked up for a moment but that was a worry for later, "okay."

You took the hem of his shirt in your hands and slowly pulled it up, almost jumping when his fingers brushed against yours as he took over and tugged off his shirt, throwing into the tub so the blood wouldn't stain anything.

He was half waiting for you to say something or just to walk out, but you didn't. Of course you didn't. Deep down he knew that.

While he was having his existential crisis, you were assessing the damage. Luckily it didn't seem to be too bad, more superficial than anything but you still hated seeing him hurt. You tutted softly as you grabbed a clean rag and started to wipe away all the blood. Even despite your gentle touch, you could tell it was hurting him.

"Almost done," you promised, taking your time to get everything all cleaned up and covered, humming softly under your breath. It was a habit he'd noticed a while ago and for some reason it always made him feel safe. When you were finished, you looked over the rest of his torso. Joel could feel you looking at him, "all better. Well, you're patched up but it'll take a bit to heal. I'll keep an eye on it, okay?"

You stood up and stretched, your back stiff from kneeling on the tile floor. You still weren't sure where you stood with him so you decided to go back to the guest room. 

"Good night, Joel," you didn't give him a chance to say anything else before walking out of the room. Whatever happened next would be up to him.

Fortunately you didn't have to wait long for an answer. 

Once you got settled back into bed, it was only a few minutes until you heard him come back. You hadn't closed the door all the way so he could easily push it open. You didn't roll over to face him, instead you let him come to you, let him gingerly slide into the bed behind you. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, curling around your body. You relaxed - your heart felt relaxed - as you allowed yourself to melt into him, putting your hand on top of his.

Neither of you spoke, but you felt him press a kiss to your shoulder.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up again, hours later with the sunlight softly streaming in through the window, you found yourself tangled up with Joel. It felt good to have him next to you.

He had some more color to his face and you couldn't help but brush some of the rogue locks out of his face. You ghosted your fingers along his jaw before trailing them down his arm. You wanted him to rest so you got out quietly and padded to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

It wasn't long before you heard his familiar footsteps on the wooden floor. You turned to him and found that he was still shirtless. You hadn't seen him shirtless before you realized. Not like this.

"Good morning," you whispered softly, "you look better."

"Can we talk?" Oh. He wanted to head right into that. 

"Y-yeah. Yes," you agreed, already nervous, heart beating rapidly, "of course."

He sat down and motioned for you to join him, which you did without hesitation.

"I'm sorry," he echoed his words from last night after a few beats of silence, "for what I said. How I said it."

"I didn't take it personally," you promised, "I know you were hurt. Hurting."

"It doesn't excuse it," he leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a tired hand over his face, "I often wonder why you're here. With me."

His words crashed around your ears and hit like a ton of bricks. The panic on your face was evident.

"I don't - I don't doubt you," he quickly shut off any of your negative thoughts, "me. Why me?"

"I don't…I don't understand, Joel."

"You're so young, so good, so fuckin' beautiful. Everything I'm not," you looked at him in surprise, wondering if this had been on his mind for some time, "you could have anyone you want. Why are you here? With me? An old man with too much shit and baggage that can't even communicate properly? Surely there's someone better for you here."

"Joel," you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped your lips, "you're so blind sometimes, you know? I don't want anyone or anything but you. It's you. Joel Miller, I know it's hard for you to accept certain things, but you have to know that I love you. That it's….always been you. Since we met."

"I haven't even been able to be shirtless around you," he sighed heavily, forcing himself to meet your eyes, "we can't even have sex unless it's dark. I - fuck…I know you've noticed, you're not dumb."

"I have, and you're right, I'm not dumb."

"You haven't said anything."

"Why should I have?" You asked in return, "its not…I love you, and that means accepting all of you, even the bits and pieces you hate yourself. I love all the things you hate about yourself," you were waving your arms around as you normally did when you got excited and that brought the smallest of smiles to his face, "I don't care about stuff like that…I knew that we'd cross that bridge when you were ready to. It's not my place to push or pull you. I'm willing to wait for you, and I'm always going to be here for you. All I want…all I want is for you to know that I love you and that you don't have to do anything on your own. You have me, always. I want to be your home and your safe space, just as you are mine."

"How could you…" he gestured to his body, speaking through gritted teeth and thinking of every mark and scar that littered his body, "how could love this? Is this really what you want to deal with?"

"First of all, I'm not 'dealing' with you," you reached across the table and put your hand on top of his, "you don't just deal with the people you love."

"But-"

"But nothing," you insisted, "you're perfect just the way you are. And excuse me for a moment for objectifying you but you're hot, Joel. You're fine as hell, and I can't believe you don't see that. On top of that you're a good man, even if you don't want to believe it. What else could I want?" 

"Baby," he took your hand and held onto it, squeezing tenderly, "I'm giving you an out if you want it."

"Well I don't fucking want it," you squeezed back, "I'm not leaving. Not unless you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me. That you want me to leave."

His eyes met yours, "never."

"Good," you offered him a small smile, "that settles that. Joel, you're so important to me and I will always be here for you physically or mentally or however. I've got scars and marks and imperfections too. I've got baggage. The thing is when you love someone that doesn't matter."

"I know," he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, "I'm s-"

"Don't," you cut him off softly, "don't say you're sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for. Just…it's okay for us to take things slow, as they come. And just know that we're here for each other."

"Okay," you saw his adam's apple bob as he choked up.

"Okay," you stood up and walked over to him, and effortlessly, as always, his hands found your hips and he pulled you onto his lap. You gently cradled his hands in your face, beaming at him, silently telling him that everything was going to be alright, "I love you, Joel."

"I…I love…" he paused, not unsure of his devotion but overwhelmed by everything, "I can't believe I've never even said it to you before."

"I don't care. You don't have to tell me anything you don't mean or don't want to," his hands were delicate on your skin as he studied you, "I know it's true regardless. I don't need to hear those specific words."

"I want to say them," he insisted softly, his hand finding your face, a juxtaposition of rough against soft, "I love you. Even if I don't always say it or act like it."

"I know, but you do. Act like it I mean," you preened into his touch and put your own hand on his chest, palm right above his heart, "you're not alone, you know. You have me, Ellie, Tommy, Maria, and so many others. It's hard to be so vulnerable, trust me I really do understand in my own way, but it's also okay. Even if it takes time, forever, or whatever. I am always going to be here."

"What did I do to deserve you?" At his silly question, you laughed, marveling still at how clueless he sometimes was.

"There's no rhyme or reason for loving who we do sometimes," you leaned and pressed your forehead to his, "but you know, the fact that you saved my life the day we met doesn't hurt."

And then he laughed, shoulders relaxing and a genuine smile growing on his face, "well, I think you've gotten me back a few times for that. Why are you still here, huh pretty girl?"

"Shut up," there was nothing but affection behind your words, "somewhere along the line I managed to fall in love with you. So. Here we are."

"Here we are," he repeated before kissing you softly and you practically melting into him, "baby."

"Hey, if you're going to do that can you at least do it in your bedroom?" neither of you had heard Ellie come downstairs but you exchanged a lot before laughing. Yeah, things were pretty good, "otherwise can we make some breakfast already? I'm starving!"

Before you could climb out of his lap, Joel held you back and kissed you softly, giving you a gentle look. You touched his cheek, silently nodding in response.

Not everything needed to be said out loud. You always heard him loud and clear. 

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 11

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 10, Part 12

As always this is your warning! This au is dark, violent and sad at times. It's imposter sagau which is already yandere and stuff. Blood, graphic description of violence is in it.

The flower pin was rough under your fingertips as it's stashed away into your bag. A keepsake for Kuan now that the chances of her body being found without life were higher. If not certain already.

"The meeting must have gone poorly to say the least. Treasure hoarders are greedy by nature, they must have spiked the price to insane heights."

Xingqiu pushes the chunks of metal off the road as he comments on his theory. Tracks are slowly revealed leading both ways of the path.

"Which way now? They probably kept the victims together so should we split up or stay together?" Chongyun asks as you all stand together looking at the split path.

Both paths had multiple footprints, but it was hard to tell which were from fighting or fleeing. Xingqiu opens the tracking and hunting book as he flips through it.

"There was a chapter on footprints, it can probably help us know which way to go. And hopefully how long ago too."

Nodding absentmindedly, you carefully step around the tracks and compare the amount of child-sized on the left to the ones on the right. There were at least twice as many on the left than the right.

"Hey Chongyun I think they went left; can you see if the smaller footprints fade out or turn around on the right path?"

"Sure" He's gone quickly and Xingqiu joins you in the left path as he compares the text in the book to what he's seeing.

"The small tracks are digging deeper at the front meaning they must have been running. If they were just fighting, there would have been more of a bump. It would be easier to tell if there was less blood, but our best bet seems to be the left path."

"The left leads deeper into Liyue to the Minlin region, right? That's good since the mountains are too tough to get off the path with that many children but the path leads to Jueyun Karst too."

"Should I even ask how you're so familiar with the Minlin region?"

"Do you really want a repeat of the event earlier?"

"You both better not be fighting again." Chongyun butts in as he jogs back. He's holding something in his hands and stretches them out revealing the item.

"The footprints there were all grown so you were right about it being left Y/N. I also found this Fatui insignia." The blue and gold design of a sergeant insignia was stained with dried blood and dirt.

"I believe there's a good chance that the treasure hoarders managed to escape with the hostages. That would explain why the fatui agent tried to settle a 'debt' with us before."

"Then let's not waste any time, if we don't hurry, they might try to get off the path." Picking up the pace you all follow the left path and keep quiet for any signs of the victims.

As you continue past the scenery and occasional animals your mind lingers on the possibility of them going off the path or not. They definitely could if they knew the area well enough, but something is nagging you that you're missing something.

If the deal went well, the hoarders would have used the cart to drive away. It's doubtful that they would go back to the harbor with their crime so recent but going on the right path wouldn't work either.

The right path would have led them past Wangshu Inn which was like a game over since Xiao isn't all that subtle. Or to Mingyun village which was where the Fatui would have left to. They would have met up in that village and fight there instead of here so that's out too. That leaves only the left path which leads straight to Jueyun Karst.

That would be a bad option but unlike Wangshu Inn that's surrounded by water, they could escape south to the ruins. So, the hoarders would be going left either way. So whatever way they planned on escaping is canceled due to the hostages. Why did you still feel like you were forgetting something?

Your hand tightens around the strap of your bag as the path gets rocky. Maybe if you reread the commission you could remember?

Not slowing down you dig the handbook out and read the commission list. Your eyes stop on the commission that stands out the most.

Full Speed Ahead - The path is needed for a transportation vehicle moving people. Make sure the path is clear within the time limit. Defeating enemies may be necessary.

The path needed is the bridge that leads into Jueyun Karst. The vehicle in the commission isn't specified nor the reason. Did they plan to cross that bridge before escaping through the bottom mountain?

Right now, it was the only idea of what direction they could be taking, you had to get to that bridge. Stuffing the handbook back into your bag, you start to speed up.

"I think I have an idea on where they went! We need to get to the bridge that leads to Jueyun Karst."

The look they shoot you is ignored as you draw closer to the bridge. Even still, they match your pace before you all slow down at the sight of the bridge.

The bridge had multiple slimes crowding it as it swayed at the weight. Wasn't this bridge a safety hazard? Those gaps are big enough that a whole person could slide out.

"I see a group on the other side!" Xingqiu says loudly over the sound of the bouncing slimes. You look where he's pointing and can see a rough group of six people.

Chongyun takes a step on the bridge but is instantly pushed back by the slimes. Frowning he speaks with the slightest hint of worry.

"We can't cross with all those slimes but if we fight them, the bridge might collapse. We would need to go all the way around and that would not only put those people in danger but let the hoarders get farther."

"Then let's think outside the box, who says fighting is our only option?" Grinning with confidence you push past the guys and step on the bridge.

Trying not to look down the bridge you grip the rope tightly and watch the slimes start to crowd you. Unlike with the geovishap hatchlings, you didn't plan to just stay still.

Three cryo slimes tackle your legs at the same time but miss as you dodge it. The slimes fall through the wide gaps giving you more leg room.

With that you begin to quickly pick up the 'safer' slimes like the hydro and geo slimes before chucking them off. You were careful not to let the pyro or electro slimes touch you and simple dodged them.

"What are you two doing standing there?! Come and help me already!"

Your words seem to snap them out of whatever daze they were in before they ran to join you. As vision holders their bodies had some natural resistance to the slime's elemental bodies. You witnessed Chongyun pick up two pyro slimes with ease as you kicked a dendron slime off. He didn't even get a single burn!

The number of slimes dwindled down quickly till there only a handful of hydro slimes. You expected them to try to run away or charge at you but instead they simply circled you before gurgling happily.

Throwing off one of the hydro slimes you finally looked down to see that all the slimes were safely at the bottom. You did have the maximum world level 8 so fall damage must not be enough to kill them.

In your confusion you picked up the next one and bluntly asked. "Do you guys enjoy being thrown off like this?"

It smiled with 'closed' eyes almost exactly like you would see in the game as the last two hydro slimes jumped around happily. You looked up at Chongyun and Xingqiu who gave you an equally confused stare.

Shit this might have been another creator perk. If the slimes don't enjoy being thrown by them, then the guys will start to suspect you again. That means precious time and energy wasted, Yiran can't afford that.

"Can you both check up on the group while I finish these slimes. Clearing this path was also one of my commissions."

Chongyun stops mid-grab before nodding. Xingqiu is unfortunately less cooperative.

"We helped you with your commission, surely you'll let us take some of the prize too."

"Aren't you all for justice and chivalry? It's very unrighteous of you to try and steal from the poor and needy." You respond with a shrug as the last slime gets happily thrown off.

It may come from the perk of being the creator but it's still a bit creepy how much they like being thrown off the bridge. But the slimes are also quite cute, so it's forgiven.

The whole creator cult thing was a different story.

"Well then shouldn't you-" "That's enough, the bridge is clear let's get going."

Cutting off Xingqiu you begin to lightly push him across the bridge. Although he does stop talking, he begins to lean even more on your hands.

Man was he heavy, the game didn't exactly give the best body portions. Xingqiu looked quite slim, but sword training gives muscles and Xingqiu is not exception.

He even had the nerve to take out a book and begin reading leaving you with the job of pushing him.

A nice little prank is schemed as you pushed him quietly to the end of the bridge where Chongyun was waiting for you both.

Chongyun turns in your direction and sighs tiredly at Xingqiu's antics. Xingqiu begins to close the book and you smile secretively. With a quick sidestep, your hands leave his back and he falls backward onto the bridge.

The teens begin to laugh as the adults control their laughter better. You smirk down at the annoyed Xingqiu as he moves his book off his face.

"Since I did the manual labor of pushing you all the way here, I'm sure you'll let me keep the full reward."

"Fuck you" You simply flip him off before turning to the elderly man and adults with a pleasant smile.

"Hello, which one of you had filed this bridge as a commission?" Money came first, you didn't want the commissioner to slip away. You didn't even have to worry about the time limit due to the amount of slimes you had to throw off.

"That would be me, thank you for your work." The elderly man hands you the bag of rewards. You turn around to where Chongyun was helping Xingqiu up.

"You did help so do you want a portion of the rewards?"

"I only accept the base fee for exorcism jobs. It was your idea that made it possible to cross so I don't need any mora." He shakes his head firmly and you nod in acceptance.

More mora for you after all! Pocketing the money, you ignore Xingqiu who's holding out his hand for some of the reward. He tsk'd at your action as Chongyun sighs tiredly at the conflict between you two.

"I do have another commission about a kidnapping case. A group of treasure hoarders kidnapped two adults, some teenagers, and children. We followed the path here, are you part of the group that were kidnapped?" You direct your question to the adults and teenagers as they begin to sigh in relief.

"Yes, but we're only part of the group." The first adult who looks to be an older woman speaks with tears of relief. "After we were taken, we got to a clearing of some sort in Guilt Plains and the Fatui were there. We tried to escape when they began to fight but we were caught."

"When we got to the bridge the slimes were starting to crowd it, so they tied us on the other end and crossed the bridge with the children and a few teenagers. Thankfully Mr. Dao untied us, and we helped him cross the bridge." The second adult a man who couldn't be older than 20 explained with a hoarse voice.

"There's no way we could defeat the hoarders to save the children and the bridge was overfilled with slimes. But not only did you clear the bridge, but you all seem strong enough to save the kids. Please save them, my son is still with them too." The woman clasps her hands with budding tears as she looks at you.

"The information you gave us is invaluable. I can assure you that we'll keep working on this case." Carefully picking your words, you do your best to comfort the mother. Her gaunt figure and poorly maintained features are a clear indicator of her poverty. She's not the first mother you've seen suffer like this in poverty.

"May the creator bless you with luck in all that you do." She whispers pressing her lips against her hands. Muttered prayers are carried by the wind as you begin climbing up the path with the quiet vision holders.

The mood in your group is somber from the earlier conversation. Leaves flutter in the air with the rising height and birds circle the mountain. After crossing a small wooden bridge, you all get to an archway with a blue tile roof, and a large bell hangs motionlessly above. Small statues of frogs litter the area seeming to watch you.

There were also mini stone statues of you too. Fancy clothes adorn the small statues with a matching hat. It was cute but it seemed to remind Chongyun and Xingqiu that you were all entering the adepti area.

They both hesitate at the gate with conflicted expressions. Neither of them have the sigil of permission and you sure as hell don't have one. They probably could enter while you were playing as it was under the creator's command but that didn't apply here.

Even still you grab their hands and drag them past the gate. "Why are you two standing there like idiots? There are children scared out of their mind with no clue on whether help is coming or not."

"This is the home of the adepti, without a sigil of permission we aren't allowed to enter less we face punishment." Xingqiu speaks but he still allows you to pull him.

"What's more important? The lives of innocent children or the privacy of beasts that are meant to protect the lives of people of Liyue which would include those children. If the adepti can't forgive our intrusion, then they are shameful to the creator. And the creator's will overpowers all others."

You release their hands and continue hiking. Both boys walk at your swift pace with a seemingly fond look. It seems that creator perk of them becoming inclined to you is starting to affect them.

After a while you all find a man sitting on a small structure with an axe by his side. The sun is already starting to creep down, but you need a break. Chongyun starts walking to the man but not before saying, "I'll ask him for any information. You aren't used to this terrain yet Y/N, rest up in the meantime."

Were you really that obvious? In embarrassment you pat away the dust and dirt from your clothes. The snicker from Xingqiu makes you glare at him with a flustered face.

"Quit laughing before I push you off this mountain." Your mumble only makes him laugh at you more. Fed up, you shoulder him making him stumble at the unexpected action.

Now annoyed he moves to shoulder you back, but Chongyun is already pulling you behind him.

"Xingqiu can you stop fighting with Y/N?"

"Chongyun it isn't good to misunderstand situations like these. They really started it this time."

"I have no clue what he's talking about. I was tired and started to lean on Xingqiu. It's not my fault he wasn't strong enough to hold up my weight."

Xingqiu chuckles in disbelief at your innocent words as Chongyun shakes his head. "Xingqiu, you can't really expect me to believe you. You do stuff like this all the time to me."

You stick your tongue out at Xingqiu over Chongyun's shoulder as he smiles sharply at you. He silently fumes as you grin mockingly at him.

"Now back to the mission, the man Pan Guan'er is a lumbar jack looking for his axe. He said that he only sat down to rest recently and hadn't seen anyone passing by. We should keep hiking up and maybe we'll find more clues."

Nodding you all keep hiking but again you feel that sense of unease. It seems you aren't the only one as Xingqiu starts questioning Chongyun as you all cross a pond.

"A lumbar jack in the adepti area? How strange. That job requires a lot of strength so what kind of build did he have?"

"He was more on the slender side with muscles on his legs being the most prominent." Chongyun recalls as he stares down at the floor.

Muscles on the legs rather than the arms? There's no way he's a lumbar jack. You turn around first and freeze at the sight of Pan and two treasure hoarders sneaking up.

"Watch out!" One of the hoarders already has a crossbow about to shoot and you react quick enough to tackle both guys to the floor.

An arrow may have only done some damage while you played the game, but this was real life. You weren't sure if you could save either of them if they got hit in a vital spot. Let alone an organ like an eye.

The situation dawns on them as you all scramble up to avoid the attacks coming your way. A masked hoarder begins to load up another arrow as the biggest man charges with a hammer. Pan Guan'er slips a mask onto his face and readies a pair of throwing knives.

Chongyun defends you and Xingqiu from the hammer by blocking with his claymore. The heavy clang and subsequent swings of the hefty weapons in combat let you and Xingqiu go around and battle the others.

Xingqiu follows the crossbow hoarder as he backs away tactically from the agile boy. Your sickle is summoned, and your swing is electro-charged against Pan if that even was his name.

He dodges at the last minute and kicks your side making you bite back the groan. Knives slash at your clothes and are thrown at your neck as you dodge them all while being careful to avoid his legs.

You're unrelenting once you get an opening to attack. The blunt side of your sickle leaves bruises on his body as you cautiously leave shallow cuts. You can't let him die just yet.

The fight is so familiar that your body follows the movements easily. Reminiscent of all the street fights you participated while homeless. It's the jobs from your old boss that would get physical that seem to crowd your mind the most.

The fight is over before you know it with your sickle on his neck keeping him pinned down on the ground. Xingqiu climbs back up with a frustrated expression that softens at the sight of your victory.

"He fell off the cliff while I was chasing him. Who in their right mind backs up without checking?" He sighs as Chongyun comes over with blood staining the end of his pants.

"He lost too much blood and couldn't answer any questions I had. Hopefully, we get more luck with Pan." Pan gulps nervously at the sight of all three of you staring down at him.

"Why did you kidnap those people? What happened with the Fatui? But if you can't answer those questions then you better be able to answer where those children are now." The sickle presses against his neck harder letting a stream of blood trickle down.

"We heard that the Fatui needed people, so we agreed to kidnap some for them! The money they brought wasn't to the bosses liking so we fought. For some reason they retreated, and we took the people here to escape."

"And where are they now?" Pan avoids your eyes as he sweats. If he wasn't going to say more then you'll have to force it out of him. The loud crunch of bones breaking can be heard alongside Pan's screams.

Chongyun lifts his claymore and slams the dull side onto his leg mercilessly. It's surprising to see this sharp chilliness from him but it saves you the trouble.

Pan's arm swings up to hit your side, the knife glinting in his hand as he grunts angrily. "I'm gonna-! Hurk-"

His words are cut off as a sword stabs his arm back into the ground. The blood seeps through and spills onto the grass and pond as tears and snot dribble down his face.

Disgusting

What right does he have to cry? He's not the parent who's worried over their child with a dangerous fate. He's not the child stolen and at the mercy of adults with malicious intentions.

"We split up! I was staying here on Qingyun Peak to throw off any Fatui members that might come while the prisoners were taken to Mt. Hulao!" He sobs out and you draw your sickle back in disbelief.

Mt. Hulao? That was the mountain right across from here! You would have to climb down, cross the river, and then climb back up. They could go anywhere by then!

Shit, shit. What were you supposed to do?

Chongyun and Xingqiu seem just as conflicted as the draw their weapons away. Now free and bleeding, Pan begins to crawl away. Chongyun moves to detain him again, but you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him be, we got the information we needed. Besides, he'll bleed to death before he finds any help."

Xingqiu seems to be deep in thought as he stares off the cliff in the direction of Mt. Hulao. He talks with Chongyun about any possible paths to it as you stand a little farther on the side.

Warily you bring up the game screen and press the map quickly. You didn't have enough privacy or time to control one of your characters to save the children, but you could zoom in on the mountain through the map.

There you spot a flat area on Qingyun Peak facing Mt. Hulao. If you could climb higher, you could glide to the mountain saving loads of time and energy. You let that little flame of hope ignite and close the game window in a hurry.

"I have an idea, you both have gliders, right?" You ask with an excited smile as they nod in unison. Wordlessly they understand your plan and follow you up the mountain.

The path is littered with flat rocks and plants that your feet carelessly trample on. Trees, lamps, and archways are ignored as the sky starts to turn a soft shade of orange. Time is running out.

The clearing comes into view as the amber-imbued mountain stands proudly across. A huge stone circle is nearly consumed by the wildlife as you all walk to the edge.

Red ropes tied to the trees holding small signs are on your left and on the right is a strange device with two of your mini statues guarding it. A mechanical stone doll of yourself stands there with gold rings around the joints. Was that a pull-apart and put-back-together statue of yourself?

This was Moon Carver's Mountain, so it belongs to him. Maybe Cloud Retainer made it for him. You eye the path on the right that leads further up the mountain to his home. It was weird to think that even the high and mighty acting adepti worshipped you too.

The edge of the mountain makes your palms sweaty as you peek down. It's a long drop. Forcibly you activate the glider as Xingqiu and Chongyun stand next to you calmly.

"You look quite nervous Y/N, this must be your first time using one. Did you not get your license?" Too nervous to be annoyed you answer with a chuckle.

"Nope, but what the Millelith doesn't know, won't hurt them. Besides they're pretty crappy anyway." The soft breeze helps cool you down as you stare straight ahead.

"Just hold onto us if you're that nervous. If you're really scared, then I can just carry you." Xingqiu replies as he holds his arms out. It's teasingly in your eyes but he's very serious.

"Can't do that, I have to learn to glide by myself ya'know? But I will take you up on the first offer." You grab Xingqiu's right hand and turn to Chongyun.

His glare at Xingqiu softens when you look at him. Wordlessly with a shy look he holds his left hand out. Internally he's relieved that you didn't accept Xingqiu's offer to carry you. He knows him well enough to know that he was serious about that offer.

Hyping yourself up that this cliff wasn't as terrifying as you thought, you jumped off the cliff gripping their hands tightly. It's just like building parkour, it's just like building parkour. The chant is repeated as you keep your eyes closed from the wind.

"You can open your eyes now, Y/N." Chongyun's calm voice coaxes you as a playful voice continues. "Just don't flail around too much."

Slowly you open your eyes to the sight of the passing birds and Mt. Hulao slowly approaching. The wind is soft as it caresses your face while the wind pushes you all higher into the air.

"As long as neither of you let me go, then this will be a nice and easy flight." You direct your quip to Xingqiu. "And if someone does decide to be a dick then I'll let go of Chongyun and bring Xingqiu down with me."

"Real subtle Y/N."

"Aren't I always?"

"I have to thank the creator for keeping the wind in the direction we need. The faster we get to the mountain, the faster we can search for the kids. Plus, you two can stop fighting for at least 5 minutes."

"Y/N, do you see what kind of bad influence you are? Chongyun never acts this way."

"Don't blame me, it's not my fault he's sick of your antics."

Chongyun sighs softly as you and Xingqiu continue bickering until you all land on Mt. Hulao next to a chunk of amber. You mimic Xingqiu and Chongyun who mutter a prayer of thanks to the creator.

The orange-pinkish hue of the sky is now a soft purple as the amber seems to glow. You knock on the tall amber and listen to the hollowness of the mineral.

"Don't get distracted Y/N! We have to hurry or else they might get away." You jump at the sudden call and catch up with the duo. The cold air is starting to make you a bit cold as you follow the path.

"Isn't it a bit strange that there aren't any monsters here? I mean the adepti wouldn't bother killing elemental creatures or even any monsters unless they actively disturbed them."

"I think that's the answer," Chongyun responds quietly to Xingqiu's question as he points ahead.

Right at the edge of the giant hole in the middle of the mountain was a few bodies. No, a few corpses.

Treasure hoarders lay on the ground, against the wall, and even in the bushes with battered bodies. Claw marks, arrows, puncture wounds, and even arrows are inflicted on the bodies. The only explanation would be that a group of hilichurls attacked them.

Walking closer you touch the blood and let it drip off your finger. "It's cold but not dry. They were here not long ago; they must be up the mountain."

Walking up the mountain with the guys in tow you wipe the blood off on an amber chunk. As you all keep climbing, more and more bodies are found, thankfully none of them are of kids.

As the path turns to stone staircases amber chunks become more frequent. Xingqiu peers into one and bites his lip.

"The amber is also encasing some of the hoarders. That's usually the fate for anyone who climbs Mt. Hulao."

"We should leave them to the creator's mercy. They're either dead or going to die. Not to mention Mountain Shaper isn't known for his grace." Chongyun responds as you glance at the passing amber coldly.

Finally at the top of the mountain you stare at the big trees with burgundy leaves, Cor Lapis are rooted around the trunks. Yelling and crying can be heard as you climb the last few steps to finally see the situation.

Mountain Shaper stands in front of his cave in the usual form of a crane as he stares down at the only standing treasure hoarder. Multiple dead bodies lay in the shallow water as the water changed to red. The hoarder is yelling something but the soft cries on your left are the only thing you hear.

Yiran is kneeling in the water as she sobs clutching a boy's hand. His features so similar to the woman you met at the bridge. Yet the pink hue of the water and dull eyes make your heart clench at having to present her with his body.

"Mortal of treachery, you and your kin invaded my mountain seeking to hide your crime and escape with your lives. Let the amber of my mountain encase you till only dust remains!"

With a flap of his wings, the last hoarder is consumed by amber with a horrified expression clear. You stare in awe at the display of power as the amber crumbles into dust and scatters among the water.

Mountain Shaper turns his attention to your group with irritation. "Intruders left to right. At the very least you three have no scent of corruption and evil, I'm sure you came for the children. The others are on Mt. Aocang under Cloud Retainers care."

The mountain seems to rumble as he walks slowly towards you all with glowing red eyes. "Yet you all trespassed on my and Moon Carver's residence. Foolish and arrogant mortals you all are, your punishment will be swift and painless."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you promptly reply but not toward Mountain Shaper.

"Yiran! Your father Kuan is waiting for you at the city. He's been worried sick about you, he commissioned me to find and save you."

"Really?" She quietly replies, "Daddy sent you? I-I want to go home! I wanna see Daddy!" She sniffles before bursting into tears.

Mountain Shaper stands in front of you with narrowed eyes. "What caliber of schemes did you plan to follow through with such an action?"

"Do you or the other adepti plan to come to the city and find the people those children belong to yourself? How do you plan on calming down traumatized children?" He scoffs at your questions and glowers at you.

"The sole reason I have not imprisoned your form despite your conceited words is due to the scent of Teyvat that surrounds you. Your comrades will care for the children while we can investigate you."

He spreads his wing into Yiran's direction silently commanding the guys to care for her. Warily they move away from you and tend to Yiran trying to calm her down.

"Answer my questions and you and your team may live. Who are you masked trespasser and why does the scent of Teyvat surround you?"

It's strange, why doesn't he recognize you? They never accepted any gnosis so the corruption from Celestia should never have affected them. Nor would they ever forget the elemental worship due to their distaste for human culture, but wouldn't they remind Morax of it too?

The adepti are under Morax's command as they all fought under him. Plus, they must all have their own contracts with him. What if that was the reason? Maybe the corruption affected them on a subconscious level leading them to not realize how they were affected by the gnosis.

"I'm Y/N, and that scent is from my occupation. I'm the creator's oracle and as the creator's vast powers protect me, Teyvat protects me under the creator's orders."

Mocking laughter echoes around the area once you finish explaining. You already expected this reaction, what thousands of year-olds mystical beings would believe a mortal would be made into an oracle? Instead, you focus on Yiran's softening cries as she's comforted by the duo.

They seem to be instructing her to pray to you. Chongyun shows her a form as Xingqiu recites a prayer that goes unheard. It's something about protection, healing, and thankfulness. It almost makes you want to laugh if the situation wasn't so horrible.

"He protected me and now he's dead. It's all my fault, it's all my fault!" She breaks down again during the prayer as they continue trying to soothe her. This memory will stay with her forever, Kuan isn't going to get the same daughter back. If she wasn't traumatized by the kidnapping, this preteen's death will.

Doesn't make it any less fucked up that when something like this happens, everyone's first thought is to pray to you. That's probably why everyone is so fanatic about you. It happens on Earth with minor obsessive religions but here in Teyvat it's widespread.

"Interloper or rather Y/N the teller of falsehoods, the adepti as a group will decide whether you deserve to live in shame or die for your crimes." It's a shame that the fan won't work in this case but that never stopped you before.

"And what about my friends? You said that they may live if I answered, which I did, but I don't believe you're that generous. If anyone must face punishment for trespassing, it should be me as I dragged them along. They're not the ones who are receiving payment, I am."

It was the least you could do, they helped you a lot and they didn't deserve to die for your reckless decision. Even if you don't regret it.

"How noble of you falsifier. Those acolytes may live and bring those children back to their homes. I'll even wrap this body to be presented to whatever careless parent that let their child be taken."

Oh, hell no

"With all the disrespect I can muster, shut your damn trap. What right do you have to speak about careless parents? That boy's mom was taken alongside him, you have no idea what kind of sacrifices she may or may not have made for him! If we're going to speak about carelessness, why don't you explain why all you adepti thought it was right to fill Qiqi with enough adepti energy that it harmed her to such a horrible degree?"

The air went cold and amber rose around you in a cage-like form. He was furious but you were too.

"Oh, I will rejoice once your little story is exposed as the fabrication it is. I'll decide your punishment and seek out how you learned about this. I pray to the creator of all beings that your death will be as painful and long as when I was forced to incase that dying child in amber to prevent her destruction."

His condescending tone is paired with a fiery glare that you deliver right back. Chongyun carries Yiran who passed out from exhaustion. Xingqiu carries the now mummified body of the dead boy with a troubled look.

The heron stands in the middle of the pond and spreads both his wings. The pond alights with yellow and red forcing you to close your eyes.

When your eyes reopen, you find yourself in a different body of water. A small table in the middle, lily pads between the rocks in the water and the multiple eyes staring at you are a near comfort.

What a familiar scenery.

Chongyun and Xingqiu are surrounded by the rest of the missing kids as the stumble from the sudden teleportation. Hurt but thankfully unharmed, the children light up at the sight of the famailair Liyue figures.

Two cranes, a stag, and a very familiar goat-featured lady stand around you. You always wondered how Ganyu's hair stayed in a ponytail look without a hair tie.

"I regret to inform you all that this mortal has claimed to be the creator's oracle."

Shocked eyes are drawn to your imprisoned form with the exception of your teammates. The rising moon seems to shine on the water around you like a spotlight. Your face is neutral as your sharp smile hides in your heart.

Yet another situation where you'll make best with what you have. The more untrusting eyes, the more relief you'll feel when you trick them with convenient words painted under the guise of truth.

It has always been like this, and even if you're sick and tired, you'll still do it. At this point, it's the only thing that you trust. So, you'll keep spouting lies until even you believe them. Besides...

Lying always was your best skill.

I finished!!! There was so many obstacles! My house started going under construction so I took off work and spent this whole week moving stuff. Then moving it back, And then cleaning it. And then restocking it. You get the idea. The beginning of this chap is really rough due to me switching between moving and cleaning plus being a lil rusty. But I think I got back to the flow as it went on. Everything sort of worked out in the end but Y/N just can't catch a break. Now the whole kidnap case seemed maybe random to ya'll but how else was I supposed to bring Y/N into adepti territory? It's a fact that travelers are encased in amber or punished for going to Jueyun Karst. I just hope I fleshed it out enough that it was enjoyable. Oh and that scene with Pan Guan'er was inspired by the actual NPC that sits there. When you walk by, two treasure hoarders spawn behind you. I genuinely think that NPC is sus as hell. I also wanna direct anyone interested in what the mask could look like to this post. The wonderful @the-dumber-scaramouche made fanart of her version of Y/N! It's so beautiful! Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado

#whisp's amateur work #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #oracle au #sagau cult au #geshin impact #genshin cult au #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere chongyun #yandere adepti #I don't feel like making separate tags for them all #I really hope I wrote xingqui's name correctly #also I didn't get to add this but #I fucking love reblogs #escpecially when ya'll add your own thoughts and feelings #I'm just unsure if I should respond or not #Hopefully next chap I can ask that question #yandere Xingqiu #turns out I misspelled it again #It's Xingqiu

[kaleldobrev]

Knew You Would Come Around

Pairing: Michael!Dean x Fem!Reader | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's happy you've finally come around

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Nudity (but no smut), Y/N is the best actress ever, Michael being absolutely delusional, Sad!Reader

Authors Note: Set in the same universe as Once Mine | Please read Once Mine before reading this one | Some non-con elements but nothing graphic (very G Rated in description) | Y/N deserves an Oscar for her performance | Y/N misses Dean :( | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It’s been weeks since you’ve been trapped in this penthouse, weeks without any kind of contact from the outside world besides room service, the occasional monster that Michael had invited in, and Michael himself. Michael, the archangel who was currently using the love of your life as his meat suit. The same man who refused to believe that you weren’t this other version of you. There was a part of him though, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint it, that may have been slightly delusional due to the grief that he had faced when his world version of you was killed. A version of you that he loved more than anyone or anything. A version of you that he absolutely refused to let go of.

You tried for weeks resisting him. Resisting any ounce of change that he had tried to make. He wanted you to be the version of you that he had fallen in love with, not who you truly were. Dean loved this version of you, but Michael didn’t. And in order to survive, you played along. Played along with his delusions of you being his one true love. Pretending to actually care when he talked about certain subjects. Pretending to enjoy when he would kiss you. Pretending to enjoy him holding you in the middle of the night while lying in bed together. This was the only way, you had thought to yourself.

Your mind was racing as you watched television, as there was really nothing for you to do while Michael was away. There was relief whenever he had left for the day, but at the same time, you had found yourself sometimes feeling a strange sense of loss whenever he did leave; and you weren’t quite sure why. This man had taken over Dean, the one man you had loved more than anyone or anything — your soulmate, and Michael ripped him away from you, and you despised him for it.

But the more you thought about it, the more your mind had started to wander. Maybe you had found it relatively easy to pretend because it was technically still Dean on the surface? Maybe that strange sense of loss that you felt when Michael had left is because it felt like Dean was being ripped away from you all over again? Then again, maybe you were just starting to become delusional like Michael.

When the door opened, you were instantly snapped out of your thoughts. Show time, you thought. “Hey Mike, how was your day?” You asked him, trying to give him that sing-song like tone he had preferred compared to your actual voice.

“Rough, but making progress,” he stated, closing the door behind him. You turned around from your position on the couch to look over at him, where he was currently hanging up his 1920s style jacket on the coatrack. Progress? What type of progress? You wanted to ask. But you knew better than to ask.

"Well, that's wonderful that you're making progress," you said, getting up from your spot on the couch to stand in front of him. "But, I'm sorry you had a rough day," you continued, as you started to untie his tie, making sure you kept the right amount of eye contact.

"Thankful I'm finally home with my girl," he stated, giving you a slight smile as he watched you carefully removing his tie from around his neck. You almost stopped removing his tie, as the nickname he had just given you had thrown you off, as My Girl was one of Dean's go-to nicknames for you.

Forcing a smile, you finished removing his tie. "Happy to have you home," you lied. His hand moved to cup your cheek, admiring the delicate features of your face. Despite you not being his original Y/N, you were good enough for him in moments like these, moments where he needed comfort.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, before leaning in and kissing the top of your head. Strangely, you felt yourself slightly melt into the kiss, as it was a feeling that you had missed. Top of the head kisses and forehead kisses were ones that you had cherished the most from Dean. Despite it not actually being from him, you pretended it was; and pretending helped.

You found yourself on the couch again, watching some cooking show on FoodNetwork, mentally writing down recipes that you knew Dean would have liked. Recipes you’d probably never get the chance to make for him “Y/N!” Michael called; his voice making any previous thoughts you had disappear.

“Yes Mike?” You yelled back, muting the television as you did so.

“Come join me,” he said. His voice wasn’t demanding in nature, but you knew he wasn’t giving you a choice in the matter.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Be right there!” You replied back.

Walking into the bathroom, the glass shower was steamed up just enough that Michael's figure almost looked like he was some kind of blur, almost dream sequence like. And for a brief moment, you felt some sort of bliss; as if you were in fact in a dream, a dream where you had walked in on Dean in the shower — something that you had done so many times before. But that brief moment of bliss was fanned out the second the Archangel spoke. "Come on in Sweetheart," he said, opening up the glass door for you. Sweetheart, yet another nickname that you had once loved now made your skin crawl.

Removing your clothes quickly, they fell onto the floor into a pool of fabric. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the shower and closed the door behind you. Upon entering, Michael's back was facing you, his face toward the showerhead. You found your fingers reaching toward his back, wanting to trace little circles — something that you were so used to doing to Dean when you were either in the shower or lying in bed.

But as you were half-way to his back, he started to turn, and you retracted your fingers; looking up at him almost with a sorrowful look on your face. "Glad you could join me," he said, giving you a small smile. You tried your best to give a similar smile back, but you found it hard to, and you knew he could sense the struggle. "Turn around, I'll get your back," he said, trying to break the uneasiness between the two of you.

"Okay," you replied, slightly nodding. Turning around, you felt more vulnerable than ever, hating this current feeling. You felt your eyes close in anticipation at the touch of him. A moment later, you felt a washcloth start running along your spine, just stopping above your ass before it came back up and went from your left to your right shoulder blade.

"You're very tense," he whispered in your ear. He kissed your temple, and again, you found yourself slightly melting into it, again finding yourself reminiscing about all the times Dean had kissed your temple in order to comfort you. "Want me to help you?" He asked. "I know you like massages."

"But you're the one that's had the rough day, not me," you said, your voice sounding a little timid. But he seemed to ignore your comments; placing the washcloth on the small built-in shelf before he started using his thumbs to make circles on your back.

You wanted to resist the nice feeling, but you couldn't. It felt nice having his hands rubbing your back, finding those exact pressure points that Dean knew all too well. “I know this has been difficult for you,” Michael said after a few moments of silence between the two of you; leaning down and kissing your shoulder. Understatement, you thought. “But you’ve been really receptive of me lately,” he said, almost as if he was giving you a pat on the back. “Which is very much appreciated. I’m glad you can finally see things my way.” Again, he kissed your shoulder, but this time you felt your body slightly shudder at his touch, hoping that he didn't notice this reaction.

“Of course,” you began, “like you said, this is very much a win-win for the both of us,” you said, forcing a slight smile on your lips. You turned around to face him, and you cupped his cheek, slightly rubbing it with your thumb. God I miss you, you thought. The feeling of the stubble on your fingertips making you strangely sentimental.

“I love you,” Michael admitted, and you felt as if your heart was about to stop. You weren’t in love with him, there was no chance you could ever be; not after everything he had done. He was simply a monster disguised as your soulmate and nothing more. But you had to keep up the pretending, keep on acting in order to survive.

“I love you too,” you said, and you felt like you had wanted to throw up.

“Told you you’d come around,” he almost whispered, a small smirk on his lips. A moment later he leaned in, crashing his lips into yours.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @livingordeadwhoknows @writinginfear @Roskar16 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @frozenhuntress67 @coldspoons If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn one shot #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #supernatural one shot #Michael!Dean x you #Michael!Dean x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

Spotify Playlist

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

[fandomstickyy]

Watching A Movie With A Rape Scene

Angst/COMFORT

18++ MDNI

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CW: mentions of rape, NOTHING GRAPHIC, comfort from these menzes

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Au: I'm a bit of a film nerd so I'm always looking for indie/low budget bangers and a few movies I've seen have straight up r#pe scenes! Idk why I terrorize myself. Thought of these scenarios to ease the pain 💀. ANYWAY this post is probably super random but I've seen a lot of wild fics on here so whatever it's not too bad.

It's all fluff!! <3. Take care of yourselves !! Don't read if you're not up for it

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Deku

° wants to turn the movie off completely

°is super mad if the scene feels unnecessary to the plot. Really sensitive ab it. Even if it makes sense for the plot he's still mad.

°Rethinks his opinion on the entire movie

° if you don't wanna watch it anymore then he is zooming around to get snacks and put on something cute and/or comforting.

°"you want an extra blanket? We have chocolate you want chocolate??"

°"izuku please sit down, I'm okay."

°very touchy the rest of the night. Almost as if physically apolozing for you having to see that 🥺. Touches are light and needy

Bakugo

° he's REALLY uncomfortable

° I mean it goes to say they all are BUT he seems like the guy to freeze up at first

° mind RACING

°body stiff

° 0-100 instant stress. Just thinking "UGH WTF! I didn't know this shit was in the movie when I picked it out! I hope she knows i didnt know" "👀 damn do I turn it off!? Would that be weird ??" "Is she uncomfortable-"

°he'll blurt smth out about the @ssaulter being a piece of shit or smth.

°he pays a lot of attention to how your reacting to his statement. Wants to make it clear that he would NEVER think that's okay. He can be rough around the edges even sharp at times but he would never cross that boundary w you or anyone else nor does he think that's okay (goes w all of them but I feel bakugo knows he's a little more aggressive than the rest I can see him being a little insecure that anyone would possibly THINK he would sympathies with or do smth so shameful and cruel)

° if he sees you're really affected by the scene, he will pull up every reason that the movie is "actually trash" and that the filmmakers are "demented"

° would turn it off if you're really not feeling the movie anymore

Kirishima

°similar to bakugo there's an instant panic. It's that tense in their muscles, that shift in their eyes to you, to the tv, to you, to the wall.

°there's more hesitation with kirishima because he wants to protect you but doesn't want to treat you like your some kid that can't protect themself

°back and forth, back and forth, back-

°"He- hey baby I don't think your eyes need to see that, right??" Reaching to fast-forward with an awkward laugh which makes you laugh hard

°why this man can't stop stutterin ????

°you adore the way he's so caring about it but the act was just too wholesome not to laugh

°"What?? C-comeon I don't want you to see that. .. it's not beautiful.. and you should only witness things that are beautiful .." (BRUH PLEASE-)

°holds you tight the rest of the movie

°giving small kisses on your head, arms, shoulder

° when the movie is over, just wants to hold you close for a moment in silence

° maybe asks if if you're okay after seeing that even though he fastforwarded through

Denki

°instant reaction

°covers your eyes !!

° "LALALA!! how was your day baby??"

° closes his eyes too!

° he might as well just fast forward or smth, but he kinda just dived over to you before thinking ab it <3.

°yall 100% get caught up in the conversation, hands over your eyes and everything. Maybe he brings up a funny moment when yall were hanging w friends recently or the way the bathroom door looks like it has a face and he's judgey and his name is Willfred the III

°laugh until you snort when yall realize the r#pe scene is over and has BEEN over

°bored w the movie anyway and change it to Shrek

#mha #bnha #bnha denki #denki x reader #denki kaminari #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha deku #deku

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 03

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 6.9 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hope you like slightly longer chapters, i didn't know when to stop with this one really. anyway, thank you for reading and feel free to leave your thought, i love to read them! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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"So, anyone else feeling like their brain is about to explode?" you half-joked.

Yuta looked up from his notes and nodded. "Definitely. I keep getting the side effects of beta-blockers and ACE inhibitors mixed up."

The university cafeteria buzzed with the nervous energy of students prepping for exams. You joined Toge, Yuta, and Maki at a corner table, each of you clutching a much-needed coffee. The air was thick with the scent of caffeine and the sound of pages flipping.

"Statins?" Toge muttered as he rubbed his temple. 

"They're primarily for lowering cholesterol levels," Maki answered quickly.

Yuta let out a frustrated sigh. "Right, right. And anticoagulants? I still can't wrap my head around those."

You leaned forward. "Anticoagulants inhibit clotting factors in the blood. They're essential in preventing thrombosis and strokes."

Yuta gave a resigned look. "You two sound like walking textbooks. I'm sure I'll fail."

"No, Yuta, you've got this," you reassured him, though he seemed to be brainstorming backup career options already.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the cafeteria shifted as Gojo and Geto entered. Gojo's eyes quickly scanned the room and landed on your group. His gaze met yours for a brief moment.

Your stomach fluttered. Was it the intensity of his gaze or the fleeting memory of the dozens of painkillers in his car?

Perhaps both.

Geto also turned around. He broke into a warm smile as he saw you. 

Hm, at least he was not angry with you anymore.

"Looks like the big guns are here," Yuta joked under his breath, nodding toward Gojo and Geto. "Do you think they ever get exam jitters?"

"Doubt it," Toge said.

Maki rolled her eyes. "Focus, guys. We need to ace this exam."

Your group returned to your notes. Gojo and Geto picked up their coffee and found a seat not too far from yours, granting you an unobstructed view of Gojo. You tried to concentrate, but part of you remained acutely aware of his presence. 

Every so often, you stole glances at him, watching how he discussed something with Geto. His muscles flexed subtly with each animated gesture he made. There was an undeniable air of confidence that radiated from him, making him stand out effortlessly in the crowd. 

He was dressed in his usual white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the intriguing play of veins along his well-defined forearms. The dark blue slacks he wore were tailored to perfection.

His disheveled white hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it. You could see his jaw flexing as he articulated his points, each movement emphasizing the sharp lines of his face.

The sight was distracting, to say the least.

As you watched them, you couldn't help but think back to what Gojo had said to you in his car-how he had the audacity to accuse you of wanting to have a threesome with them. Heat rose to your cheeks.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Maki's voice pulled you back to reality.

You blinked. "Sorry, just got distracted for a moment."

Yet Gojo's presence lingered in your periphery. You stole another glance at Gojo, only to find him already looking at you. His lips curved into a faint smile.

Suddenly, you noticed that Geto's eyes were on you as well. The moment his gaze met yours, you felt caught like a deer in headlights. You quickly looked away. Geto said something to Gojo. Gojo merely shrugged, his expression unreadable, but the faintest smile played on his lips.

The rest of the time in the cafeteria passed in a blur. 

While you and your friends were engrossed in a last-minute review, Gojo and Geto began gathering their things to leave. They stood up and chatted casually as they strolled towards the exit, which happened to be in your direction.

Yuta checked his watch. "Time to head out for the exam." You all started to pack up. As you rose from the table, a sudden presence brushed against your back, making you turn.

"Oh, sorry about that," Gojo said. But there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested the touch wasn't entirely accidental. Before you could react, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Good luck with the exam. Though, something tells me you won't need it."

Gojo straightened. His gaze held you captive. You watched as he and Geto made their way out, with Geto swatting Gojo on the back of his head as they left.

"You're so fucked," Maki commented dryly, catching you watching them.

─── ·✧· ───

A week had passed since the exam. 

Life at the university had returned to its usual rhythm. You were in class with Toge, Maki and Yuta, the lecturer's voice a steady drone in the background as you all scribbled notes. Midway through the lecture, your phone that lay on your desk lit up with a message.

[3:32 PM] Gojo: Meet me in the lab after class. 

[3:32 PM] Gojo: Btw, you passed your exam. Congrats. Got a little gift for you too.

You stared at the message, puzzled. It was unusual for professors to have exam results ready just a week after. How did Gojo know?

[3:33 PM] You: What gift?

[3:33 PM] Gojo: It's a surprise. Why spoil it now? Come and see.

[3:33 PM] You: What about my friends Okkotsu, Zenin and Inumaki? Did they pass too?

[3:34 PM] Gojo: Can't say. I may have obtained your exam result in an unethical way.

[3:34 PM] You: Oh, too bad. Guess I must skip the lab today then.

[3:34 PM] Gojo: Are you fucking with me?

You didn't reply to that. 

After all, he wasn't the only one capable of playing games. You set your phone down, a slight smile on your lips as you turned your attention back to the lecture.

[3:52 PM] Gojo: They also passed.

[3:52 PM] You: Great. See you in the lab.

You turned to your friends. "We all passed the exam," you announced in a hushed tone.

Maki's eyes widened. "Seriously? How do you know that already?"

"Unethical ways."

Yuta let out a deep sigh. "Shit, that's some great news," he murmured, his usual worry lines smoothing out.

Toge nodded with a satisfied sound.

Suddenly the professor, who had been lecturing about biochemistry, paused and glanced sternly in your direction. "If we could have less chatter and more focus, please."

Your group quickly composed themselves and turned their attention back to the lecture. Yuta shot you a last smile.

As the lecture came to a close, you and your friends gathered your belongings and made your way out of the auditorium. The hallway outside was bustling with students discussing the lecture and making plans for the rest of the day. 

"I can't tell you how relieved I am. I was sure I botched the beta-blocker section," Yuta said as you walked.

You suddenly spotted Gojo casually leaning against a wall across from you, his arms crossed over his chest. His piercing gaze instantly locked onto you as you exited the auditorium. He tapped his fingers on his folded arms.

As your group began to drift towards the exit, you halted in your tracks. "You guys go ahead. I've got something to take care of after class."

"Alright, catch you tomorrow then," Yuta replied, clapping you on the shoulder.

You lingered in the hallway, waiting for the last students to leave. The corridor quieted, leaving you and Gojo alone. His intense gaze never wavered. He pushed himself away from the wall and strolled over to you.

"You've got quite the nerve, first-year," Gojo remarked.

You met his gaze squarely. "I could say the same about you, professor. Perhaps we should be more careful about being seen together outside the lab."

Gojo flashed a mischievous smile. "Concerned about starting rumors?"

"It's your reputation on the line, not mine."

"Ouch," he said, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense. "And here I am, offering to escort you. That's quite gentlemanly, don't you think? Even after you managed to rile me up."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of walking myself."

He leaned closer. "I know, perhaps I just want to spend more time with you." He started to walk towards the lab. "Come, I have something to show you. Something tells me you'll love it."

─── ·✧· ───

Once inside the lab, Gojo led you to a table where a mysterious box lay hidden under a cloth. With a dramatic gesture, he pulled away the cover, revealing what he had teased as a 'gift'.

Your eyes widened slightly at the sight. "A brain?" you said, then turned to Gojo. "You have quite a unique way of pleasing a woman."

Gojo's smile broadened. "It's a human brain, specifically for us to practice on. I figured some hands-on training might be beneficial for the surgery, so I got us a few. It's a first for me too, so I thought, why not be thorough?"

You stepped closer to the table and peered at the brain encased in its protective glass. You grabbed the preserved organ and held it up, mesmerized by the sight.

Gojo watched your reaction. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is." You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away. "Where did you get them?"

"Let's just say I had to pull some strings. Rest assured, they're from deceased donors, ethically sourced, of course."

"I know you've been worried about making another mistake in surgery," he said, his voice softening. "So, I figured the best way to prepare us is with hands-on practice."

You turned to face him. 

"We'll use these brains to meticulously go through each step of the procedure," he continued. "It's the closest we can get to the real experience. Practicing on actual human tissue like this will provide a depth of understanding that no model can match. By the end, you'll be thoroughly prepared for the surgery."

You placed the brain back on the table. "You did this for me?"

"I would do anything for you." Gojo closed the distance between you. He stood unusually close, his presence almost enveloping you. He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands on the table on either side of you, holding you captive between his arms.

Your back hit the edge of the table. You leaned back, trying to regain some distance. "What are you doing?"

He held your gaze, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice. "But just so you know, I have my ways of pleasing a woman. And not just by gifting her a human brain."

You leaned back even more. "Is that so?"

However, the distance was quickly closed by Gojo as he leaned in even closer. His breath warm and close, his lips almost grazing yours. "Absolutely," he murmured. "I'd be more than willing to demonstrate, if you're interested."

You raised an eyebrow, your heart racing. "Forward as always, Gojo."

Suddenly, in one swift motion, he reached out. His hands grasped the back of your thighs. Before you could react, you found yourself falling back onto the table. Your breath hitched. Gojo leaned over you, his blue eyes intense and piercing.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice deep and resonant. "If you weren't my student, I'd have already shown you just how forward I can be." His words were laced with an implication that sent a thrill through you. "'Be sure, I am a patient man, but even I have my limits."

His hand traced a path along the back of your thigh, the other firmly planted on the table above your head. Trapped in his gaze, you were acutely aware of every point of contact, the heat emanating from his body, and the undeniable pull you felt towards him.

"Maybe you should consider not seducing your student, then," you countered, your voice faltering slightly, betraying the effect he had on you. Your body seemed to act on its own accord, your legs instinctively drawing closer to him, as he stood between your parted legs.

"You could tell me to stop at any moment, yet you haven't," he said. "Interesting, isn't it? It's almost as if you're as curious as I am about where this might lead."

His face drew nearer, the space between you shrinking with each passing moment. Your breaths mingled. Your hand wandered to his arm, grabbing onto him, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

Your body craved his touch, despite the rational part of your mind screaming caution. But in that moment, it was impossible to resist the magnetic pull that drew you closer to him. You found yourself inching closer, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His gaze held you captive, and you felt as though he had the power to steal your very breath with a simple look.

Oh god.

If anyone were to walk into the lab now, there would be no plausible explanation for this compromising position.

His breath was warm on your skin, tantalizingly close to your collarbone. "But don't worry, first-year. I do love a good challenge. Especially one as intriguing as you." 

His body pressed against your open legs. In this position you could clearly feel the stretch in his pants. Your core melted. "There's just something about the way you resist, yet-not quite."

His hand ventured to the inside of your thigh. His fingers traced a path along your skin, edging daringly close. You arched into his touch. His lips caressed your collarbone, his touch light as a feather. The anticipation was nearly unbearable, a delicious torture that held you in its grip. 

"Even though your body betrays you every single time," he said before tightening his grip on your thigh. He pressed closer to you, the unmistakable hardness of his erection grinding against you. 

A moan escaped your lips and you could feel him smile against your skin. He lifts his head just enough to peer into your eyes. "Oh sweetheart, I'm dying to hear you moan my name."

Just as Gojo's fingers came dangerously close to brushing the sensitive area between your legs, he withdrew abruptly, leaving a void where his warmth had been. He straightened, a semblance of control returning to his expression. "Perhaps it's time we should get to work, don't you think?"

Was he for real?

You lay there for a moment, panting heavily. Pulling yourself up to your elbows, you managed a breathless, "What?"

Gojo, now a few steps away, nonchalantly adjusted his pants, something inside of them clearly troubling him. "We have a surgery to prepare for, remember?"

He said that as if he hadn't just nearly fucked you on the lab table.

You sit up completely. "I hate you."

Gojo chuckled. "You're so easy to play with, first-year," he remarked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Consider it payback for making me 'borrow' your friends' exam results from my colleague's laptop."

You watched him for a moment, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The way he could shift so effortlessly from intense intimacy to professional demeanor was both infuriating and intriguing. 

With a groan, you let yourself fall back onto the desk and stared up at the ceiling. As you lay there, you heard Gojo walk away, his footsteps echoing through the lab. "Leaving already, Gojo? Need a quick break to blow off some steam?"

Gojo returned a moment later with a tray of surgical tools. He shot you a sly grin. "Why? Interested in watching?"

"Keep dreaming."

Gojo laughed. "You're quite amusing, first-year. We both know you'll surrender sooner or later. But don't worry, I can wait."

He began meticulously arranging the surgical tools, shifting the focus back to the task at hand. "Ready to begin?" he asked, glancing over at you.

You nodded.

─── ·✧· ───

In the following weeks, your routine consisted of meeting in the lab every day after class to prepare for the surgery.

The sessions were rigorous. Gojo's dedication to perfection and precision became more apparent with each passing day. He was a taskmaster in the truest sense, his expectations high and his attention to detail almost obsessive.

You thought Geto was strict, but Gojo operated on an entirely different level. His standards were exacting. He accepted nothing less than absolute precision. Every incision, every maneuver you practiced under his watchful eyes had to be flawless.

Maybe he was a maniac.

He sure was a maniac.

It was late.

You were hungry and tired.

However, once more, you and Gojo stood side by side to rehearse the procedure yet again.

"Now, stabilize the area while I insert the implant," Gojo instructed. You reached for the micro-surgical tool on the nearby desk and followed his directions precisely, maintaining a calm and steady breath to steady your hands.

Gojo led the way with inhuman precision. You mirrored his movements flawlessly. "Gently retract the meningeal layer," he guided. "Perfect, now hold it steady."

As the hours ticked away, you repeated the procedure over and over. With each repetition, you drew closer to seamless synchronization, your actions becoming increasingly fluid and intuitive. 

"Stay concentrated, we're almost there."

You slowed your breathing. "Inserting the implant now," Gojo said. Your eyes followed Gojo's hands as they maneuvered the tiny neuroimplant. "Hold steady," he murmured. "Slight adjustment to the left, that's it."

It was then that you noticed the slight trembling of his hands. In the blink of an eye, the tool in his hand slipped ever so slightly, causing a visible tear in the brain tissue.

"Damn it," Gojo muttered. "I'm sorry. Let's reset and try again."

The second attempt began much like the first, perfectly in sync. You both worked in silence. The only sound your synchronized breathing and the steady hum of the overhead lights.

But the second attempt didn't go as planned either. A small but significant misstep by Gojo resulted in further damage to the fragile brain. After the third failed attempt, Gojo took a step back from the table. His hands trembled.

"Fuck," Gojo hissed again, tearing off his gloves. He ran his fingers through his hair.

You set the instruments back on the table. "What's wrong? You good?"

It was unusual. He never made such mistakes. He always had the most steady hands, so why was he struggling with every attempt now?

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need a break," he said, frustration etching lines on his forehead. He walked over to a nearby bench, where a forgotten cup of coffee rested. He picked it up with a shaking hand. You observed him closely. 

"Gojo, your hands..."

"I'm fine."

Oh, he was so clearly lying.

You walked over to him. "Don't tell me shit, what's going-?"

But before the words fully escaped your lips, Gojo's hand cramped. In an instant, the porcelain succumbed, shattering in his clenched fist. Coffee spilled over the bench in a dark, staining flood. A sharp curse escaped him as he released the jagged remains of the cup.

You bridged the distance between you. "God, Gojo," you exclaimed, quickly clasping his injured hand. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing."

"Yeah, keep lying to me," you retorted, locking eyes with him. "Sit down."

"It's merely a scratch."

"Just sit down, Gojo. Let me take a look at your hand."

With a sigh, he sank into the chair, watching you as you gathered the medical supplies.

"Fortunate it's your left hand," you remarked, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. You cradled his hand in your lap. Porcelain shards were buried in his palm and fingers, blood began to pool around the punctures. "Looks like you'll need a few stitches."

"I'm not sure I should trust someone to stitch me up who struggles to even find a vein," he quipped. "You know, this is a surgeon's hand." 

His attempt at humor fell flat. You were not in the mood for jokes. He flinched when you started to remove the porcelain fragments with tweezers.

"Don't worry. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's stitching up wounds," you said quietly.

You meticulously removed each fragment. The room was silent, punctuated only by the occasional clatter of tools. After ensuring no debris remained, you cleansed the wounds. 

Unfolding a suture kit, you glanced at Gojo. "This might sting," you cautioned, beginning to stitch the deeper gashes.

Gojo's jaw clenched. He remained silent, his eyes following your every move. After a while, he spoke, breaking the quiet. "You're pretty good at this. How did you learn to stitch so well?"

Your hands paused briefly, surprised by the question. "I mentioned my mother wasn't the same after my father's death. That's how I learned it."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his gaze shifting away.

You completed the last stitch and bandaged his hand carefully. "There, all done." Standing up, you began to clean the area. Gojo flexed his fingers, testing the mobility.

"Thank you," he said. "It's really good."

Without facing him, you asked, "You won't tell me what's wrong, will you?"

His silence was your answer.

A sigh escaped you. Gojo then stood, breaking the momentary stillness. "I need to grab something from my office. I'll be back soon," he said, his tone somewhat distant.

You nodded and watched as he left the lab. The door clicked shut, its sound echoing faintly in the now empty space. The quiet hum of the lab enveloped you.

Time ticked by, and the lab's clock hands moved steadily forward. The quiet was pervasive, broken only by the occasional sounds of the building settling for the night. You glanced occasionally at the door, expecting Gojo to return, but there was no sign of him.

He did not return to the lab that night.

And he was not in the lab the next day.

─── ·✧· ───

"Can you imagine having surgery with these?" 

Yuta joked, pointing at a set of rusty scalpels. His face scrunched up in mock horror.

Maki laughed. "I'd rather not. Makes me appreciate modern anesthesia."

Toge added a quick quip, "Unbelievable."

You and your friends decided to visit the local museum. Today, it was hosting a special medical exhibit, which naturally piqued your interest. The warm sunlight filtered through the museum's large windows, casting a golden glow over the exhibits.

As you walked through the halls, the exhibit unfolded in a series of medical histories and advances. There were sections dedicated to ancient medical practices, rows of archaic surgical tools that seemed more like medieval torture devices, and interactive displays on modern surgical techniques.

Amidst the array of exhibits, one particular section caught your eye. To the casual visitor, the subject matter might seem unappealing, but you found it absolutely fascinating. 

You excused yourself from your friends and approached the exhibit. It was a quiet corner of the museum, away from the more popular attractions.

You were so engrossed in reading a panel that you hardly noticed the approach of another visitor. It wasn't until you heard a familiar voice nearby. Your heart froze for a moment.

"I knew you'd be drawn to this," Gojo remarked, his presence suddenly beside you. He was observing the same exhibit, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Stalking me again, professor?"

"Purely coincidental, I assure you. I couldn't pass up this exhibition. Turns out, today's the only chance to see it."

You turned to face him. "You've got some nerve, Gojo. You left me alone in the lab, disappeared without a word, and then ignored all my messages. You can't just act like nothing happened."

His face softened. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to hurt you."

"If something's wrong, you need to tell me. This isn't just your project, Gojo. It's still Geto's project too. Your actions will not only affect me, but him as well."

"You're right."

Exhaling sharply, turning your attention back to the exhibit.

After a moment of silence, Gojo spoke again. "What are you doing afterwards?"

You turned slightly. "Hm?"

"Go out with me."

His invitation hung in the air between you, leaving you momentarily speechless. You turned to him, searching his expression for clues. "Go out... as in a date?"

"Call it whatever you want," he said. "I just want to spend time with you."

"This will only lead to trouble, you know that."

Undeterred, he stepped closer. His bandaged hand gently lifted your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. His height forced you to tilt your head back.

"I'm aware of that," he said. "But I don't care. I can't ignore this any longer... whatever this is between us. And I don't think you can either."

"Give me a chance," he implored, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt almost tangible. "One evening. That's all I'm asking."

Time seemed to stretch out as you mulled over his request. "One evening?"

"One evening."

"Okay, one evening," you agreed.

A subtle smile played on Gojo's lips. "I'll wait for you outside."

Then he leaned in, as if to steal a kiss. But the sound of approaching footsteps quickly halted him. He withdrew his hand, leaving a trace of warmth where his touch had been.

"Talk about a small world," Yuta exclaimed, his eyes landing on you and Gojo, who was already keeping a professional distance.

Maki approached Gojo with a friendly greeting. "Quite a surprise seeing you here, professor."

Gojo responded with his usual charm. "Ah, the future of medicine, all gathered in one spot. Seems I'm not the only one drawn to this exhibition."

"I hope you're not here to quiz us, Dr. Gojo. We've had our fill of exams for a while," Maki said.

"I wouldn't dream of torturing my students outside of class."

Toge muttered something under his breath, earning a playful nudge from Yuta. "Don't jinx it," Yuta whispered.

The group moved through the exhibition together, with Gojo occasionally offering insightful comments. Eventually, he parted ways with you and your friends. He cast one last glance in your direction before saying goodbye.

As you and your friends continued exploring the museum, Maki nudged you playfully. "It's funny how Dr. Handsome always seems to be around you, isn't it?"

"It's just a strange coincidence."

"Yeah, sure."

You rolled your eyes. 

The rest of the museum visit passed in a light-hearted mood, with occasional teasing from Maki about Gojo. The sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful golden hue over the city streets as you made your way out.

"Oh, wait," you said suddenly, patting your pockets as if searching for something. "I think I left something back in the museum. You guys go ahead; I'll catch up."

Yuta looked concerned. "Do you need someone to go back with you?"

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. I won't be long. Don't miss the train on my account."

After a moment of hesitation, your friends agreed and continued towards the subway station. You waited until they were out of sight, then went back to the museums's entrance.

"Hey, first-year."

Gojo's voice came from behind, startling you slightly. You turned to find him approaching with two cups of coffee in hand, steam rising into the evening air. His face lit up with a smile as he saw you waiting.

He handed you one of the cups. "Thought you might like some coffee. Just regular, though-no Red Bull mixed in, sorry," he said, a playful tone in his voice.

"How disappointing."

"Shall we go for a walk?"

You nodded.

The bustling sounds of the city surrounded you, the sky painted in vibrant oranges and pinks by the setting sun. The streets pulsed with the city's evening energy. Walking alongside Gojo, you sipped the warm coffee.

"Aren't you afraid of someone seeing us?" you asked, glancing around subtly.

"Are you?" 

"It's not like we're making out or anything," he added. "Unless you'd like to?"

"Don't push it, Gojo."

Your gaze fell on his bandaged hand. "How's your hand, by the way?" 

He switched the cup to his other hand and flexed the injured one. "It's healing well. Thankfully, a really skilled surgeon took care of it."

You rolled your eyes.

"Are you nervous about the upcoming surgery?" he asked.

"I am," you confessed. "You never seem to get nervous."

"Well, that's because I'm an exceptional neurosurgeon."

"Ah, sure, I forgot. You're the miracle doctor."

"Not really," he said. "I mean, I've always had a knack for it, but university wasn't always easy. It took a lot of effort to get to where I am now. Just like you. We're not that different, you know."

You observed him for a moment before asking, "Why neurosurgery?"

"Could ask you the same. What made you choose neurosurgery?"

"Why would I choose any another field when neurology exists?"

He chuckled. "Thought so."

"Plus, the patients are usually sedated, so that's a plus for surgery," you added.

"Ah, the mark of a true neurosurgeon's ego."

The evening had deepened, and a chill began to settle in the air as you and Gojo walked through the city streets. The vibrant energy of the day had given way to the serene calmness of the night. 

Streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement, and the occasional sound of distant laughter and the hum of a passing car filled the air.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a cool breeze seeped through your clothes. Without a moment's hesitation, Gojo halted and began to take off his jacket. "Here, wear this," he offered, draping it over your shoulders.

"But won't you be cold?" you asked, concerned as he would be left in just his shirt.

He simply smiled. "I'll be fine."

You slipped into his jacket, the sleeves oddly long on your arms. It was warm and carried the faint scent of his cologne. 

Gojo seemed unfazed by the drop in temperature as he watched you. He raised his hand to your face and ran his thumb gently over your cheek. His gaze fell to your lips. The bustling city street seemed to fade into the background as Gojo's proximity enveloped you. 

People passed by, a sea of faces lost in their own worlds, their voices fading to a distant hum as you and Gojo stood in your own intimate world. His thumb brushed over your lips, parting them slightly.

"Tell me, do you ever wonder what it would be like if we gave in?"

"For someone who says he's patient, you're really pushing it, Gojo."

Gojo's eyes darkened. His gaze locked onto your lips as he leaned in just a fraction closer. The world around you blurred, the bustling street becoming nothing more than a distant backdrop.

Gojo's lips curled into a seductive smile. "Maybe you're just too irresistible."

"Or maybe you only want me because you can't have me."

"Whatever the reason, first-year. The important thing is that we both want it."

The chemistry between you two was undeniable, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. You leaned in closer, your lips tantalizingly close to his. "And what do you want, professor?" you whispered.

You both knew the risks, the lines that shouldn't be crossed, but in that charged moment, it was so damn hard to resist. Every inch of your body craved for his touch.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you. "I want to taste those lips of yours, to feel your body pressed against mine."

You breathed in each other's air as his parted lips hovered dangerously close to yours, yet not making contact. "I want to hear you scream my name," he whispered as he pulled you even closer with a sudden tug. His fingers dug into your back in a way that was almost painful. "Hear your soft pleas all night long."

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires. 

Without a second thought, Gojo turned you around, using his own body to shield you from the street. Not far from where you stood, a horrific car crash had unfolded. One of the vehicles went airborne before crashing onto its roof with a sickening thud.

For a moment, you both stood frozen, processing what had just happened. People began screaming and gathering around the site of the accident. Without having to exchange a word, you and Gojo sprang into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Gojo sprinted towards the mangled car, while you rushed to help the other vehicle.

As you reached the car, you saw the driver still inside, his head resting against the inflated airbag. You pushed open the driver's door. The man lifted his head slightly, blood dripping from a gash on his temple.

"We're here to help," you said. "Can you tell me your name?"

The driver mumbled something incoherent, his eyes struggling to focus. You carefully assessed the driver's condition, checking for any obvious signs of injury. His airway appeared to be clear, and he was breathing, albeit shallowly.

You continued to talk to the driver, trying to keep him conscious and engaged. "You've been in an accident, but we're going to get you out of here safely. Can you tell me if you're experiencing any pain?"

He didn't respond. You gently touched his head to tilt it towards you. You probed around the wound on his temple, checking for any underlying skull fractures or deformities.

"Do you know where you are? Can you tell me what happened?" you asked, trying to gauge his cognitive function. The man tried to speak, but nothing intelligible came out. His speech was slurred, and he seemed to be losing focus.

Then you heard a strained sound that resembled Gojo's voice. Looking up, you saw Gojo straining against the wreckage of the other car, trying to free the trapped driver. A nearby bystander was helping him.

You turned back to the driver in front of you. "Please stay still and try not to move until help arrives, okay?"

You went to a nearby bystander and instructed him to go to the driver and keep him still and engaged in speech. You hurried over to Gojo. He carefully pulled the woman out of the mangled car and laid her gently on the asphalt. Gojo hovered over her, checking her vitals.

"She's barely breathing." He leaned in to listen to her labored breaths. "She needs an emergency tracheotomy, now."

"What?" 

Your heart raced at the thought. There's no way you could do that here.

"Your jacket pocket, the right one," he instructed urgently.

Still wearing his jacket, you quickly reached into the right pocket. Your fingers found something, and you retrieved it. It was a sealed straw from the coffee Gojo had bought earlier. You handed it to him without a word.

"Now, the inner pocket on your left."

Reaching into the inner pocket, your fingers found a small, elongated case. "What's that?" you asked as you handed it over to him.

He opened the case, revealing a scalpel.

"You keep a scalpel with you all the time?" you exclaimed.

He briefly looked up at you with a sly smile. "Quite handy right now, don't you think?"

Without wasting a second, Gojo made a small incision in the driver's throat, skillfully inserting the straw to create an airway. It was unorthodox, to say the least.

Just then, you noticed a trickle of blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt. "You're bleeding," you said. He must have injured himself on the jagged metal while freeing the woman from the crashed car.

Gojo glanced down at his arm. "It's nothing."

The wail of the sirens grew louder as the paramedics arrived, quickly taking control of the situation. Gojo immediately began briefing them on the condition of the injured.

"I'll go with them to the hospital," he said, preparing to accompany the paramedics. But as he turned to leave, you grabbed his shirt.

"I'm coming with you."

"You should go home, get some rest."

"You wanted to spend time with me, so spend time with me, Gojo." You looked at him. "You wanted a whole evening, and it's not midnight yet."

He pondered for a moment. "Then come."

Climbing into the ambulance, you found yourself in the midst of medical equipment and the paramedics as they worked to stabilize the driver during the transport. The confined space was filled with the sound of medical equipment and hushed, urgent conversations. 

Gojo relayed the details of the incident to the team. It seemed as if he knew them, as he addressed them by name.

As you glanced at Gojo's arm, the bloodstain on his shirt was growing. You turned to one of the paramedics. "I need antiseptic and gauze."

The paramedic seemed a little taken aback by your firm tone.

"Now," you clarified.

"Uh, right here," he replied, pointing toward a nearby drawer.

"What are you doing?" Gojo asked as you moved around the ambulance like you owned the place.

You sat down beside him and seized his arm, rolling up his sleeve. His firm skin felt hot under your touch as you cleaned his wound. "You really are my personal doctor, aren't you?" he remarked, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"You should just take better care of yourself."

His eyes locked onto yours. "I guess I do need someone to watch out for me. Also, with your perfect stitching skills, I'd never let anyone else touch me."

You huffed. 

"Quite a first date, huh?" you quipped as you continued tending to his arm.

"So it is a date?"

"In your dreams, Gojo."

Then the ambulance arrived at the hospital.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the atmosphere was a flurry of activity as medical professionals worked diligently to care for the injured. Gojo quickly turned to you.

"Wait for me in my office," he instructed, handing you a set of keys. "I need to assist here and finish the necessary paperwork. I shouldn't be long."

You nodded. Before you could react, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Then, without another word, he left. Your heart raced. 

Clutching the keys, you made your way through the corridors of the hospital, searching for Gojo's office number, which was written on the keys. The adrenaline that had fueled your body slowly faded, leaving a trail of exhaustion in its wake.

Entering his office, you were greeted by bookshelves lining one wall, filled with medical texts and various journals, while a desk cluttered with papers and a laptop occupied another corner. The room looked quite different from his office at the university. Still, it had a warmth to it. 

It even had his scent.

You looked down at your clothes, stained and dishevelled from the night's chaos. You rummaged through Gojo's belongings and found what looked like a gym bag. Inside, you found a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They were undoubtedly his, large and probably loose on you, but they were clean.

He wouldn't mind, would he?

You looked down on yourself again. 

Yeah, whatever-even if he mind.

It felt strange to change into his clothes, but at the same time oddly comforting as you noticed his faint scent on them. You sank into the couch in his office, the events of the night replaying in your mind. The room was quiet, except for the distant sounds of the hospital at night.

You gazed up at the ceiling, then turned on your side and closed your eyes. Exhaustion gradually overcame you until sleep began to claim you.

Sometime later, the sound of the door gently opening stirred you from your sleep. Through half-closed eyes, you saw Gojo enter the room. He paused for a moment at the sight of you sleeping on his couch, a soft expression crossing his face.

"Gojo?" you murmured, your voice still heavy with sleep.

He moved quietly toward you, dropping to his knees before the couch. "Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," you replied, still wrapped in the warmth of his clothes. "How are the drivers?"

"They're stable. Don't worry."

Then he stood up again and moved to lie down on the couch behind you. You shifted slightly to give him more space, feeling his presence close to you. "How's your arm?" you asked him. Gojo settled down on the couch behind you, a soft sigh escaping him as he found a comfortable position.

"My arm's fine," he reassured you with a soft smile. "Thanks to you."

You turned onto your back, your eyes meeting his as he propped himself up on one elbow. His face hovered close to yours. "They look good on you." His hand reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "My clothes," he added.

"Sorry, I just wanted to get out of my dirty clothes."

"I don't mind."

A smile played at the corners of his lips. "You should've seen yourself out there," he said. "You really bossed those paramedics around. I'm sure they'll remember you."

"Well, if you keep hurting yourself, guess I'll have to keep patching you up."

Gojo's laughter filled the room, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled at you. "You can stitch me up anytime, doc."

"You better not make a habit out of this."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder. "I'll try my best."

Lying there, side by side, you both gazed into each other's eyes. The room was filled with the soft light of the moon outside, casting gentle shadows across his face. Silence settled between you, the only sounds in the room were the soft breaths you both took.

"We do make a good team, don't we?" Gojo's voice broke the silence. "And I'm not just talking about in the OR."

"Are you implying something?"

"Nah, never."

As you let out a yawn, Gojo adjusted his position, lying down beside you. "Come here," he said softly. His arm encircled your shoulder, drawing you close to him. 

Instinctively, you nestled into him, your head finding a comfortable spot against his chest. His heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your ear.

The warmth of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath, brought a sense of safety and calm. You could feel the tension of the day slowly ebbing away. His fingers trailed lightly across your back, drawing absent patterns.

"You know, this is quite close for a student and a professor," you muffled against his chest.

"Is it? Should I go?"

Your fingers gripped his shirt, holding him in place. "No," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't go."

A smile played on his lips. "I'm not leaving you," he whispered. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Then, he cuddled closer, the distance between you seeming to disappear.

Gradually, sleep began to claim you both. You drifted off, entwined in each other's arm. The office was quiet, save for the soft sound of your synchronized breathing and the faint, distant echoes of the hospital's nocturnal life.

Tomorrow, maybe, you would care about the consequences.

But not today. Not in his arms.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: hope you like slightly longer chapters, i didn't know when to stop with this one really. anyway, thank you for reading and feel free to leave your thought, i love to read them !! if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

🏷️  @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

[luigisblueoveralls]

Bj for Luigi?

Yesss..

Five Minutes

Luigi x Reader NSFW

Summary: After Luigi comes home from a rough and tiring day from work, you figure out a way to help him relax.

Notes: NSFW, oral sex. Made this one kind of graphic. Hope you enjoy!

💚

For Luigi, most days, when he worked with his brother Mario, they were great. Tiring yes, but it was worth it to help the local people in Brooklyn. But on some days, they deal with some nasty people, and today was one of them. This man treated the brothers like they were leeches and didn't know what they were doing when they clearly were. The man even tried to short them of their pay, which made Luigi angry. And Luigi hardly ever gets angry. On the way home to you, he tried his best to calm down, but he was just so worked up over that man. He didn't care about how that man treated them. He was focused on how he tried to short the money they earned. Money that would be split between him and Mario, which would then go towards y'alls bills and necessities. Luigi would do anything for you, and if that meant you got to eat and he didn't, he would do it in a heartbeat. Luigi arrived at y'alls place and took a few deep breaths in and out.

"Just relax, Luigi. You're going to see (Y/N). Just relax." Luigi told himself before stepping out of his vehicle.

Luigi then stepped inside y'alls house.

"Hey Lui!" You greet him as you approached him, hugging him.

"Hey (Y/N)." Luigi softly greets you, kissing your head.

You could immediately feel that something was up, but you weren't sure at first.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a rough day is all." Luigi sighed as he sat on the couch.

He was exhausted yet, still angry.

"Want to talk about it?" You offer, sitting next to him and placing your hand on his thigh.

Luigi notices your action but doesn't say anything about it.

"Just a guy.. being a jerk is all. Trying to short us of our pay and treat us like we were nuisances even though he called us!" Luigi angrily explains to you.

You could feel how tense and angry Luigi was, which was something you weren't used to. But you knew how to make him relax.

"I'm sorry about that, honey. But," You start as you got on your knees and laid your head on his legs, "just forget about that bastard. You don't ever have to deal with him ever again. He can find another plumbing business to bully. He doesn't deserve you and Mario's kindness."

Luigi was wondering what you were doing, but also intrigued.

"I know. It just..makes me so mad, you know?" Luigi clenched his fists in anger.

You couldn't stand to see him angry anymore. You grabbed the two golden buttons to his blue overalls and snapped them off. Luigi's face immediately flushed red. He realized what you were doing.

"Oh, (Y/N). Y-You don't have to." Luigi reassures you while trying to stop you.

He secretly wanted it, but he didn't want to make you think you were obligated to suck him off just cause he was angry.

"No, no. I insist." You reassured him, pushing his hands to his sides, "Just relax."

Luigi nodded as he let you pull his overalls off of his body. He was left in his long sleeved green shirt and his green boxers. You went ahead and pulled his shoes off, and his white gloves off. You want to feel his hands gripping your hair as he always did when you did to this to him. Luigi was hard, but not super hard like he usually was. You began rubbing your fingers along his hard dick, making Luigi moan a little.

"Ah, ah. P-Please."

"Please what, Lui?" You smugly asked.

"You're..you're really going to tease me like this?" Luigi breathlessly asks.

"Well, if you ask nicely, then I'll give you what you want."

Luigi smiled nervously, looking right down at you.

"Please, can you help me relax?" Luigi asks you with a nervous tone.

"That's my good boy, Lui."

You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down just enough for his hard dick to be sticking out. It was hard but kind of limp. You wrapped your hand around it and slowly moved your hand up and down his shaft.

"Hmm. Hmmm. Ugh. P-Please, (Y/N)." Luigi begged.

"Please, what?" You ask, keeping up with your slow hand movements.

While it was slow, your hand movements would send so much warmth and tingle throughout his body. It felt so good. He could barely get his words out for you to go faster.

"Faster, please." Luigi sputtered out.

"As you wish."

You moved your hand up and down his shaft faster, causing Luigi to moan louder.

"Ah, ah a-ah! (Y/N)!"

"Shh. We got neighbors here, Lui." You teased.

Y'all really did have neighbors, but they weren't close by, thankfully. Luigi held his hand over his mouth to cover up his loud moans, but you still could hear him loud and clear. His other hand was gripping the couch cushion.

"Do you want more?" You ask him.

"Yes, p-please, ma'am."

You smirked at Luigi as you kissed the tip of his dick, sending chills down his spine. You then inserted just his tip into your mouth, sucking on it.

"O-Oh!"

That was your que that he absolutely loved what you did.

"Hmm." You moaned, sending vibrations to his dick.

"S-Shoot. I'm sorry." Luigi moaned as you felt his fingers grip your hair out of pleasure.

You didn't mind it. Not at all. You loved it. You grazed your tongue all over his tip, tasting the salty precum that was on there.

"You taste amazing." You compliment Luigi.

"Th-Thanks. Hmhm." Luigi groaned.

You then fully inserted Luigi's dick into your mouth, his tip nearly hitting the back of your throat. He deeply moaned when you did this. You tightened your lips around him as you started bopping your head and moving up and down, swirling your tongue on his tip as you went up. You held onto Luigi's thighs as a brace as you kept doing what you were doing.

"Th-That feels..so great. Oh God, please don't stop. Please." Luigi begged.

He didn't want this feeling to end. He never did. It felt so good. You always sucked him so good and well. His dick began to twitch hard and pulsate. He could barely breathe. This feeling overwhelmed him so greatly but he loved it. You moved even faster, causing Luigi to get louder, and his body started to shake too.

"Oh, oh, oh God. (Y/N), I-I'm getting there. I'm sorry if it's hurting you but just a little longer, please."

Luigi was always considerate of you. While he was so thick that it hurt your jaw, you didn't care. You ignored it. Hearing Luigi moan your name in pleasure was worth the temporary jaw ache. His dick was twitching furiously now as his pants got louder. He even started to sweat. He was getting close and quickly.

"Hmmmhmmm." You moaned some more, causing him to tug on your hair a little.

It hurt a little bit but again, you didn't mind it.

"Oh oh, G-God! I can't hold back, I can't. I-I'm cumming." Luigi practically yelled as he cummed into your mouth, his load shooting into the back of your throat.

You kept bobbing your head back and forth to milk his dick with everything that it had and he kept moaning until he winced and stopped you.

"Ah, ah, ah shoot. I'm sorry. It's just really sensitive." Luigi apologized as you swallowed his load.

You leaned in and gave him a big kiss.

"No need to apologize. Was it good?" You asked him.

Luigi sheepishly smiled.

"Yes. It felt so good." Luigi told you, kissing you again.

"Wanna, take this upstairs?"

Luigi's smile grew at your request.

"Yes, please ma'am."

The two of you nearly run upstairs into y'alls bedroom and had a amazing and restless night together.

#luigi nintendo #super mario luigi #super mario movie #luigi #luigi x reader #x reader #luigi fluff #luigi x reader fluff #luigi x reader smut #super luigi #luigi smut #super mario

[augustghosts]

Useful

Tommy Miller x Fem!reader

Part two of Plastic Trees.

Thank u for the love on part one <3 I’m excited to keep writing this story! I wanted to focus more on tommy and readers' relationship in this so had to get rid of everyone else lmao, anyways. <3

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+! Fingering. Choking. Unprotected PinV. Lots of dirty talk. Kinda dom!tommy. He's a lil rough, but we like him that way, don’t we? Maybe breeding kink if you squint. Slight size kink? Idk I just like to talk about how tall Tommy is. This is like violence from the get go lol. Guns and a few graphic descriptions. Lots of swearing. Lots of pet names, bc i just feel like tommy is the type to use them every other sentence lmao. It gets a little fluffy and awkward at the end. This is also looong as fuck (sorry). Not proofread as always.

Tommy is, rudely, jolted awake by someone aggressively shaking him.

“Dude! Get the fuck up!” An equally aggressive voice hisses beside him. His eyes snap open to a gun pointed right between his eyes. Before he can even process who is on the other side of the weapon, the person holding it is taken down. A loud gunshot rang out from the side of him - Joel. His saviour, of course.

“Come on!” Joel yells.

Tommy shoots up and joins Joel in crouching beside the couch. He doesn’t have time to process what is happening- more shouting and gun shots sound from throughout the house.

“Shit.” Tommy whispers. “I gave my gun to that other asshole.”

He looks around frantically, his eyes landing on the body of the man Joel had just shot. Tommy crawls over and swipes up the gun that had been pointed at him just seconds earlier,

“What the fuck is this?” He asks.

“No fuckin’ clue.” Joel responds. “All i know is we gotta get the fuck out of here. We’re close enough to the door. We can wait for a window- fuck those other guys.”

Tommy nods - he only has one thing on his mind. He looks behind him to the basement door, it’s still closed.

“What about the basement?” He asks as casually as he can.

“Fuck her. I don’t give a shit.” Joel doesn’t even look at him as he responds. “She’s probably the reason they’re here.”

“I don’t think so. These don’t look like the guys who hired us, Joel. Raiders probably.”

“And?” Joel is still scoping out the house. His eyes darted around. “She’s probably dead already. Someone might have already gone down there.”

“So we should go check! We can still get paid!”

“Fuck that.” Joel hisses. The house is suddenly quiet. “Let's go!”

Joel heads to the front door. Tommy is still staring at the basement. Fuck it, he makes a split second decision. The image of the way she looked at him last night and how soft her hands felt flicker through his mind, and his legs almost work on their own as he heads to the door. Whoever had broken into the house is upstairs now, he probably only has a few seconds until they clear up there and come down here.

He storms down the steps, what the fuck is he doing? He thinks about what Joel said - she’s probably dead already. Shit, he hopes not. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and he’s praying that he doesn’t get down there to see something awful. He breathes a sigh of relief when his boots hit the concrete at the bottom and he sees her curled up in the corner. Her knees pulled up to her chest, her head on her knees. She looked adorable.

“Hey! It’s me.” He says. Her head shoots up, her eyes have that fearful look again. The one that got him so fucking hard yesterday. He has to resist hauling her up into his arms.

“What’s happening?” Her voice sounds small.

“Get up.” He spared another look up the stairs and held his hand out to her. “We need to go. Right fucking now.”

She looks between him and his hand, she’s hesitant. Honestly, she feels like she can’t figure him out. Is he really saving her or is he following his brother’s orders again, and taking her out there to kill her. Are the guys that hired her here? Is that where he’s taking her?

“Now!” He practically orders her. His voice was loud and stern. He notices the way her breathing hitches before she reaches out to take his hand. He pulls her up and turns back to the staircase.

“Stay behind me, okay?” He says. She does as she’s told, which he fucking loves. More gunshots that sound too close for comfort have him pausing in his tracks. Tommy jumps as a body collapses at the top of the stairs, she squeaks behind him as blood from the man's head trickles down the stairs.

“Okay, uhm.” He turns to her. “New plan.”

“Could you get yourself through that window?” He asks as his eyes land on the small window in the corner. It’s not tiny, probably small enough for her to fit through.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so.” She looks over and nods. He walks over and looks through. The window is high, eye level. The coast looks clear and he hurries to stack some boxes under the window and call her over. “Get through and when you’re outside, wait there. Don’t move.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” She asks frantically, her hands grasping the sleeve of his coat like she had done last night.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna go upstairs and I’ll come get you.” He gently pries her hand off of his sleeve. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Fuck, as much as she doesn’t want to do this, as she looks up into his big brow eyes she nods. She trusts him. He nods back and when he realizes he’s still holding her hand he drops it - much to her disappointment. He turns and goes up the stairs, he’s gone before she can even blink.

What the fuck? She’s shocked for a moment, but a loud crash from upstairs springs her into action. She climbs up onto the boxes Tommy had stacked and pushes the old rusty window open. Shit, she really hopes it is Tommy that finds her out here and not anyone else. Once she’s on the other side, she realizes this is the first time she’s been outside in weeks. It’s sunrise and she can’t help but stare at it. The sky looks beautiful. If it was someone else who finds her out here, she wouldn’t mind dying while looking at this.

A pair of gloved hands clamp down on her shoulders and she jumps, whirling around ready to… fight? She doesn’t know how to fucking fight. But she doesn’t need to when she lays her eyes on Tommy. He’s staring at her, thinking about how beautiful she looks outside. He’d only really seen her in the basement, guilt hits him as he thinks about it. He hates how much he wants to kiss her - he’d gotten so close last night.

“Where are we gonna go?” She asks.

He doesn’t know. He stays silent as he looks around - they need to get out of here. He takes her arm and pulls her forward to start walking. She accepts her fate and follows him. Despite their rendezvous last night, she was still scared of him. He had still been an accessory to kidnapping her, she doubts that him coming in her mouth had changed anything.

“So, what did you save me for?”

They’d been walking for a while, Tommy knew where they were heading. An empty house he’d scoped out a few weeks prior. A safe house, if you will. He knew it was safe, his mind was reeling when he heard her voice behind him.

“What?” He doesn’t look behind him. He’s walking much faster than her and he can hear how fast she’s walking to keep up.

“Did you bring me out here to kill me? Or are they meeting you out here?”

“Who?” He asks. He turns slightly, she looks up at his gorgeous side profile.

“The people who hired you. Was that them at the house? What happened to the other guys? Your brother?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs. He doesn’t know which one of her questions he’s answering. Why did he save her? He doesn’t fucking know. He hears her sigh behind him, a small oh leaves her mouth. They keep walking for a while and she keeps quiet. Watching him walk - his broad shoulders and his leather gloves that cling to his large hands. The gun he has slung over his shoulder. She’s thinking about how she’s sure he was going to kiss her last night. She’s sure of it. Remembering how he had caught her above the stairs and how his hand had covered her mouth. He was so confusing, he had touched her last night and saved her this morning- now he was walking ahead acting as if he was burdened by her.

She takes the hint and stays quiet. When they reach the house, it looks the same as all the rest. Run down, plants taken over and growing up the walls. She had always thought that was beautiful. Nature taking things back. Tommy unlatches the rusty gate, kicking some leaves from the overgrown lawn out the way. She follows him in, he turns before they reach the door. He’s looking around - looking for someone following them. Because knowing Joel, he would. He has to use some force to push open the door, his gun is pointed forwards and he walks around the rooms with it - she just watches. He walks around for a while, looking through cupboards and trying to make a small fire in the fireplace. The windows are all boarded up so no one can see the fire, it makes the her feel a little claustrophobic but she’s grateful because it is fucking freezing.

“We’re safe, for now.” He says, swinging the gun off his shoulder and placing it down. “We’re gonna stay here tonight. We’ll get movin’ tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She sits on an old couch. “Where?”

“You ask a lot of fuckin’ questions don’t you?” He says.

“I-i just want to know what’s going on.” Tears fill her eyes, she looks away from him. She is not gonna cry in front of this motherfucker again.

“I know of a place.” Tommy continues. He hates to admit seeing her cry does something too him. The same thing it did to him last night. “A community, I know some people there. Joel is probably making his way there too. Might take us a while to get there though.”

She nods at him. He takes a step towards her, he’s towering over her now. He always does, but the fact that she’s sitting down makes him look even bigger - and her even smaller.

“So, if you want to come with me and if you want me to keep you safe, you’re gonna have to be good. You’re gonna have to trust me. And follow my rules.”

She just nods again, dumbly looking up at him with wide eyes. He steps forward some more, standing directly in front of her now. He lifts his hand to grasp her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. The warm leather of his gloves made her melt into his grasp, his long fingers cupping her jaw.

“Can you do that?” He whispers, his voice gets lower and raspier. “Use your words.” He says when she nods again.

“Yes.” She whispers. “I can be useful.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “How?”

“Whatever you want.” She says. “I’ll follow your rules. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Fuck baby.” He utters. His raspy voice makes her stomach swirl and heat spreads between her legs.

“Was I not useful last night?” She asks as she reaches for his belt. “Do you want it again?”

“Help yourself, gorgeous.” He spurs her on. His hand that was cradling her face moves to her hair as she takes his cock out of his jeans. He’s already semi hard just from teasing her, but he suddenly remembers something he had said last night.

Her hands wrap around his length and he sighs as he lets her jerk him off a few times. Her mouth is watering, but before she can lean forward and take him into her mouth his other hand comes down to cradle her head. He tilts her head up to look at him again and says, “You know what? I believe I made you a promise last night.”

“Huh?” She’s confused. The only thing on her mind being his cock and the heat between her thighs - the thighs Tommy cannot wait to get in between .

“We were interrupted yesterday.” He says, using his grip on her face to pull her up to a standing position. “I recall telling you that you deserved to be touched. Since you were so good, and you’ve been very good today.”

He leaned in, their mouths inches away - mirroring their position from last night. Fuck it, she takes one for the team and leans up to press her lips to his. Both of their lips are dry from being outside in the wind all day but neither of them seem to care. Tommy kisses her back with a passion, like it's his last kiss. She moans into his mouth when his tongue pushes between her lips and he thinks he could have come right then and there.

“Jesus darlin’, you sound beautiful.” He pulls away to grip her ass, hauling her up into his arms, her legs wrap around his waist and he presses a kiss to her neck before he sets her down onto the couch. “I wanna hear you making those sounds all damn night.”

He climbs on top of her, kissing her feverishly again. Now he’s started he feels like he can't stop. It's been too long since he'd been kissed like this. Her warm mouth is a delightful contrast to the cold world outside, and as much as he wants to feel that warm mouth wrapped around his cock again he cant help but want to give in to the soft spot he has for her. And so he does. He begins to kiss down her neck, standing up to strip his jacket off begins a trail to her legs.

Even with the fire, the house is too cold to completely strip - so this will have to do. Besides, neither of them want to get caught in here and not be able to escape quickly. As much as he wants to kneel down between her thighs and make her legs shake, he knows he’s going to have to wait. He pulls her jeans down just enough to be able to slip his hand into her underwear. A breathy moan of his name that she lets out, when he reaches her wetness, hits his ear and makes him shiver. She feels it, and she can also feel how hard he is against her thigh.

“You’re already soaked, sweetheart.” He whispers before biting into her earlobe, she moans as he circles her clit. “You’re gonna have to be quiet for me baby. Can you do that?”

She nods as he pushes a single finger inside of her. His finger pauses as he hums a “hm?” into her ear, lifting his head to look into her eyes. He wants her to answer, wants to hear her voice shake. She looks so small under him, caged into the sofa. He wants to fuck her so badly but he loves to tease. He wants to hear how pretty she sounds when she begs.

“Yes!” She sounds breathless, moving her hips to try and get him to do something.

“What do you want? Hm? Ask me.”

“More! Please, Tommy.” She moves her hips again as she speaks.

“Yeah?” He sounds so condescending as he slides a second finger into her and begins to stroke her walls. God hes an asshole, she fucking loves it. He loves it too. He has a huge grin on his face as he builds up a rhythm with his fingers. Watching her reactions closely as she writhes underneath him.

“I want you to come all over my fingers.” He says, his other hand coming up to grip her face - his fingers squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “And then im gonna fuck the shit outta you. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are still moving, they feel so perfect inside of her and she can feel a heat building in her stomach. She reaches up to claw at his arm, he’s confused for a second and almost stops what he's doing, even though he can feel her pussy squeezing around his fingers, before he realizes what she wants.

“Holy shit.” He grins as he moves his hand to grip her throat. Her moans get louder, the sight of her being choked by his hand almost makes him finish in his pants. “You’re so fuckin’ dirty baby. You gonna come for me so i can fuck you?”

“Yes!” She whimpers, “I want you so bad, Tommy.”

The groan he lets out at her words is enough to have her moaning his name as she finishes around his hand, his grip on her throat tightens just enough to make her feel a little lightheaded. She doesn’t remember anyone ever making her feel this good. What a fuck up, the man who kidnapped her in an apocalypse is the one to give her the best orgasm of her life with just his fingers - and he hasn’t even fucked her yet.

“Oh my god, Tommy.” She laughs. He laughs too, it’s beautiful. She almost forgets about the situation they’re in.

“Stand up for me, baby.” He presses one last kiss to her lips before he stands up, she follows - waiting for him to do something. His large hands cradle her waist and maneuvers her so she's standing in front of him. His strong back pressed to her chest, the arm of the couch is in front of her and one of his hands pressed on the small of her back to bend her over the couch.

She can’t believe this is happening right now, neither can he. They're both basically fully clothed, she's bent over a dirty couch in a run down house. The fire is still crackling beside them when he pushes into her without warning. She surges forward, grasping the couch in front of her as she sighs his name.

“So fuckin’ tight, babygirl.” He moans from behind her, hissing through his teeth.

“Please move, Tommy.” She hisses, “You feel so good.”

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you baby.” He sighs as he begins to thrust into her. Her pussy squeezing him is almost too much. It’s been way too long, given that it’s hard to find someone to fuck in the apocalypse. She looks so good bent over in front of him.

“I can’t wait to fuck you properly.” He says, his fingers grip her hips harder as he speeds up his thrusts. “Can’t wait to have you naked in front of me, I’ll fuckin’ worship you, darlin’.”

His words go straight to her pussy, intensifying the fire growing in her stomach. Her hand reaches down to rub her clit, her hand at an awkward angle since her jeans still weren’t pulled all the way down. Just enough for Tommy to be able to fuck her.

“What do you need, baby? Ask for it.” He says when he notices her hand, stopping his movements all together.

“Please don’t stop.” She whines below him. “I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He grinds into her, relishing in the way she whimpers below him. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Please, Tommy!”

He grabs a handful of her hair and tugs, pulling her up so her back is pressed tight to his chest. It completely changes the angle of his cock inside of her and she whimpers his name in a way that makes his cock ache. He wraps his whole arm around her neck and she brings her hands up to grip his bicep.

“Beg for it.” He whispers into her ear.

“Please.” She whispers. Moving her hips to try and get him moving.

“Pathetic.” He says, squeezing his arm tighter around her neck. “You can do better.”

“Please make me cum, Tommy. I need it.” Her voice is strained from the pressure he’s putting on her throat. He thinks she’s never sounded sexier. “I wanna feel you cum. I want you to fill me up, please.”

“Jesus,” He snarls as he begins to slam back into her. “I wish I could, baby. You’d look so sexy with my cum dripping out of you. You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” She cries, “Yes, I'd love it! Please!”

“Don’t worry baby, I've got you. Come on, cum for me.”

She does as he says, as always. And finishes around his cock with a scream of his name. He thrusts into her a few more times and pulls out of her, shoving her forwards into the couch. She doesn’t question him as he slams his hands onto her shoulders and turns her around to roughly shove her to her knees in front of him.

“Open your pretty mouth, baby.” He groans breathlessly, his hand fisting his cock. The sight of him getting himself off with his hand makes a new wave of wetness rush between her thighs. She obediently opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, looking up at him and watching as his brows knit together as he comes. The moan that leaves him is delicious and actually makes her feel proud of herself. His cum lands on her tongue and he pants at the sight before him.

“You look beautiful like this, fuck.” He says. He’s out of breath - now Tommy likes to believe that he has good stamina. But he also believes that the sight before him would be enough to make anyone breathless.

She remembers how he had told her to swallow the night before, and she brings her tongue back into her mouth to let his seed drip down her throat. He’s shocked. And he’s still kind of hard and honestly, he wants to fuck her again. But he remembers the world he’s in, and remembers they will need to get moving in the morning. So he cradles her jaw in his hands and guides her up to her feet. Tilting her head up to kiss her deeply. It’s almost soft, almost loving.

When they pull away neither of them know what to say. They stare into each other's eyes for a second and she almost looks like she wants to say something but Tommy beats her to it.

“So, uhm,” He begins to tuck his cock back into his pants as he speaks. “So, we’ll get moving in the morning. You should get some rest.”

He’s awkward again, her heart breaks as she watches him revert back to the man who had kept her in the basement. The man who had just fucked her slowly fading into the darkness.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” She mumbles, doing the button on her own jeans back up.

“I’ll keep watch for a bit, but uh - we should be fine.” He sits down on the couch, reaching for the gun he had put down and props it up beside him on the couch. He sits back and spreads his thighs as he gets comfy. She doesn’t really know what to do. She kind of just stands and stares at him. He looks at her and stares back for a good few seconds. Why the fuck was this awkward? He sighs and reaches his arm out to her.

“Come here.” He says, a lot softer than she’s ever heard him sound before. She takes the hint and steps timidly towards the couch, sitting down beside him and letting him wrap his arm around her. He guides her head to his shoulder. They sit there for a minute in a comfortable silence. He shocks her, yet again, when he reaches down to pick up her jacket and places it over her body like a blanket. She feels like she has whiplash right now - what the fuck is going on?

“Stop thinking. Go to sleep.” He says, his hand squeezes her shoulder and she cuddles up to him. The same thing is going through Tommy’s head. What the fuck was he doing? He can tell her to stop thinking all he likes, but he can’t stop himself. And that’s what he does for most of the night until he sees the soft light of the day begin to stream through the crack underneath the door - he thinks.

#tommy miller #tommy miller fic #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x reader #hbo tommy miller #tommy miller fluff #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou fic #tlou smut #smut #fluff #x reader #gabriel luna #gabriel luna x reader #gabriel luna fic

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Hi 🙋🏼‍♀️

What about a Chris x reader where the reader is having a bad day so r drives to Chris house but he is not at home so r goes in with the key that r got from him. Later when Chris comes home he finds reader with Dodger in bed and comforts r.

PS:I love your Storys 💖

Aw this is such a sweet idea and definitely fits into The Perfect Wingman universe!

Cuddle Buddy - Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: After a bad day you go to the one place you'll always find comfort

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff! Angst! Talk of pet death! (NOT DODGER OR READER'S DOG!)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

You let out a shaky breath as you got into your car at the end of your shift. It had been a tough day and it had left you emotionally and physically drained. Buddy, your golden retriever, let out a small whine, leaning over from the back seat to nudge your shoulder.

“Thanks, bud” you breathe out reaching back to scratch him behind his ear.

You started the car before pausing for a moment. You were going to go straight back to your place but after today you didn’t want to. You wanted Chris. So you pulled away and drove off towards Chris’ house.

As you pulled up your shoulders dropped when you saw his car wasn’t parked outside. You considered turning around and heading back to yours before remembering the key Chris had given you. He’d given it to you when you looked after Dodger for him, and then he told you to keep it in case you ever needed it. After a moment of indecision, you decided to head inside, hoping it wouldn’t be too long until Chris got home.

“C’mon bud, let's see if Dodger is home,” you say putting the car in park.

As soon as you opened the door Buddy dashed inside, going straight to Dodger who was equally excited to see him. You watched the pups play with a weak smile on your face before deciding to head upstairs.

The dogs followed after you as you walked into Chris’ bedroom and laid down on his bed. The familiar scent of him washing over you gives you comfort. The two dogs then jumped up on the bed, both of them snuggling down next to you. It wasn’t long until you found yourself falling asleep.

Chris was surprised when he got home and found your car parked outside. He smiled to himself knowing you were waiting inside for him. He’d given you a key months ago now but you were always hesitant to use it, and Chris was glad you were starting to feel more comfortable with it.

As he opened the front door he prepared himself for both Dodger and Buddy to come barrelling towards him but nothing came. He frowned in confusion as he glanced around but there was still nothing. The next thing he noticed was how quiet the house was. For a moment he thought maybe you’d taken the dogs out for a walk but your keys and shoes were still by the front door.

“Sweetheart?” Chris called out as he walked through the lower floor of the house trying to find you “sweetheart where are you?” He called out again as he jogged up the stairs.

Opening up the bedroom door he finally found you curled up with Dodger and Buddy. Chris couldn’t help but smile as he quietly walked over, shushing the dogs when their tails started wagging.

As he climbed into bed you began to stir “hey sweetheart, you okay?” Chris asked as your eyes fluttered open.

You blinked a couple of times as you woke before your brows furrowed and your lower lip started wobbling. Tears filled your eyes as you shook your head.

Chris’ heart instantly broke as he watched you break down. He opened up his arms and you instantly moved into his embrace. Chris held onto you tightly, rubbing your back soothingly as you cried into his chest.

“Hey it's okay, it’s okay, I’m here” Chris whispered as he pressed kisses to the top of your head.

He held you and comforted you waiting until your tears subsided and turned into sniffles.

“You okay, wanna talk about it?” Chris offers rubbing your back.

“I’ve just had a really rough day” you sniffle wiping away your tears, your shoulders slumped.

“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it or just leave it for later” Chris asks as he takes hold of your hand, squeezing it gently.

“It was just a day where it felt like all I was doing was giving people bad news, I just couldn’t fix anything” you mutter, distaste for yourself in your voice, as you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry darlin’ I know you would have tried your best though and that’s all you can do,” Chris says trying to comfort you.

“It wasn’t enough though, we had this sweet little old man come in with his dog today, it was supposed to be a simple biopsy for a lump but his heart stopped under anaesthesia and we couldn’t get him back” you recall tears streaming down your face once more “the man was devastated, he’d already lost his wife, now his dog and he’s now all alone”

“Hey hey c’mere” Chris mutters pulling you back into his embrace.

Chris held onto you tightly as you sobbed, your entire body shaking with every sob. Chris had to bite his lip to stop himself from getting emotional, but it hurt him so much to see you hurting like this. He knew there was nothing he could really say or do to take away this pain so he just held you, reminding you that he was there for you, letting you cry it out, waiting for you to be ready.

“Sweetheart I want you to listen to me okay” Chris starts, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse “what happened today sucks, it really fucking sucks and I hate that you had to go through that today, if I could do something to change it I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Chris says shaking his head “but don’t let it stop you from doing what you love, because you are an amazing vet and you just have to remember the good days always outweighs the bad, you have helped so many people and given them so much hope and you just have to remember that on days like today”

You sniffle a couple of times looking up at him before nodding and snuggling yourself back into his chest “thank you Chris” you whisper.

“Anything for you sweetheart” Chris mutters as he kisses the top of your head.

“And I’m sorry for coming over unannounced, I just really wanted to see you but you weren’t here and-“ you say beginning to ramble.

“Sweetheart it's okay, I gave you that key for this exact reason, I was so happy when I pulled up outside and saw your car parked up,” Chris says brushing some hair out of your face.

“Really?” you ask uncertain.

“Of course sweetheart” Chris smiles shaking his head “if I could I’d pack up all of your things and move you in here permanently so I can come home to you every single day”

“You would?” You ask looking up at him in surprise.

“Yes, of course, I love you so much sweetheart” Chris smiles kissing your forehead.

“I love you too,” you say a smile breaking out on your face for the first time today “do you really want me to move in?” You ask.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life” Chris smiles.

“Okay, then let's do it,” you say nodding your head up at him.

“Really?” Chris asks his eyes widening in surprise having not expected you to agree so readily.

You let out a small chuckle, reaching up to cup his cheek “yes, I love you Chris and I’d love to move in with you” you grin.

Chris smiles brightly down at you, cupping your cheek and kissing you deeply “I love you too” he grins

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