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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 days

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𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

The dim glow of the studio lights reflected off the stacks of equipment, casting long shadows across the room. You leaned against the doorway, watching Chan furiously click through different tracks on his laptop, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The clock on the wall ticked past 2 AM, but for him, it seemed like time had no meaning. He’d been working on this track for hours, refusing to take a break even when you’d suggested it earlier. "Chan," you called out softly, but he didn’t respond. The constant hum of the music filled the space, his mind completely absorbed in his work. You sighed, stepping into the room, stifling a yawn. “You need to relax,” you said, a teasing tone slipping into your voice. “You act like the world’s gonna fall apart if you don’t finish this track tonight.” His hands stilled on the keyboard. The playful smile you wore faded when he didn’t respond. You took a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, pulling away as if your touch burned him. “I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softer this time. “You’ve been at this for hours. Just take a break. It’s not healthy to push yourself like this.” Chan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back, but instead, he closed his laptop with a slow, deliberate movement. The air in the room seemed to thicken, tension radiating off him in waves. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to help.” He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with more force than necessary. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You think I don’t know it’s not healthy?" His voice was low but filled with barely restrained frustration. "I don’t have the luxury of taking breaks whenever I feel like it." Your heart sank at the bitterness in his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished. “Every time I stop, every time I take a moment for myself, I fall behind. I have responsibilities, expectations-” He finally looked up at you, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something deeper, something raw. “I’m the leader. I’m the one holding everything together.” You felt a lump form in your throat as you realized how deeply you’d misunderstood the situation. You had meant your words lightly, but they had triggered something in him - something he had been keeping bottled up for too long. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered, taking a cautious step toward him. He looked tired. Oh so tired. And while you were more than sure people had seen his tiredness, you knew that they weren't aware of even the fraction of exhaustion he was feeling now that you were looking at it from two feet away. “I just…I didn’t realize how much pressure you were under. I mean I was aware, but I didn't think it was to this extent.” Chan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t realize because I don’t show it. I can’t afford to.” The room was suffocatingly silent, the weight of his confession sinking in. You had never seen him like this- — so vulnerable, so... broken. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t appreciate everything you do,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I know how hard you work, Chan.” He shook his head, his expression distant, as though he were already miles away from you, even while standing right there. “Just... leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned away from you, walking toward the door. “I need to finish this.” You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but the look in his eyes had warned you against it. There was a wall between you now — one you hadn’t meant to build but had somehow erected with a few careless words. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the empty studio, your heart heavy with regret and a sinking feeling that you’d hurt him far more than you’d ever intended.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

It had been a long day, and as you and Minho sat together in the living room of your apartment, the remnants of dinner still scattered across the table, you found yourself in one of those easy conversations where words flowed without much thought. You both had been teasing each other, poking fun at small quirks and habits, but then you said something - a single sentence that changed everything. "You can be so cold sometimes, Minho." You laughed. It slipped out so casually, but the moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had made a mistake. The room seemed to freeze, the playful banter dying on your lips as you watched Minho’s expression shift. His face went from light-hearted to something unreadable - his eyes darkening, his smile fading into a thin line. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence in the room grew suffocating. "Cold, huh?" His voice was quiet, almost emotionless, but you could feel the tension building in him, like a storm just waiting to break. He traced his index finger around the mug in front of him. You immediately tried to backtrack. "I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-" But Minho cut you off, standing up abruptly from the couch and turning his back to you. "No, I get it," he said flatly, his shoulders stiff. "You think I’m cold." The way he said it, so detached and hollow, made your stomach twist with guilt. You had known Minho long enough to realize that, behind his sharp exterior, he was someone who felt deeply, even if he didn’t always show it. But now, it seemed like you had confirmed his worst fear - that people only saw the distant, guarded version of him. "Minho, wait," you pleaded, standing up and reaching for him, but he took a step away, avoiding your touch. "Don’t," he said, his voice sharper now. "If that’s how you see me, then fine. I don’t need to hear more." You watched helplessly as he walked toward your bedroom, his posture rigid, shutting himself off from you with every step. The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing alone in the living room, your heart sinking with the weight of what had just happened. The thing about Minho was that, while he came across as tough and indifferent to most people, you knew there was a part of him that feared being misunderstood. He was always careful with his emotions, keeping them tightly locked behind that sarcastic, cool demeanor. It was one thing you loved about being with him, that you were one of the only ones who knew him well enough to see behind that exterior. To know and see him so deeply to know his true self; one that he didn't show everyone. But tonight, with one careless comment, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurity. And it hurt you that you did that. Hours passed, and the tension in the air didn’t lift. You tried knocking on the bedroom door, offering a quiet apology, but he never answered. It felt like a wall had sprung up between the two of you, one made of all the sharp edges he used to protect himself from getting hurt. That night, you lay awake, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, each time wishing you could take back the words. You had never seen Minho so distant, and the thought that you had caused it filled you with a gnawing guilt.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

It had been a tough day, the kind that leaves you exhausted to the core. Changbin had just gotten back from the studio, a heavy frown weighing down his usually bright expression. You could tell something was off the moment he walked through the door - his usual energy dampened, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

You had asked him about it, but he shrugged it off with a noncommittal, “Just tired.” Still, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

Later that evening, as you both sat in the living room, watching a movie that neither of you were paying attention to, you tried again to break through the silence. Changbin was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, his jaw clenched.

“You seem really down lately,” you said gently, looking at him from across the couch. “Is everything okay?”

He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but still didn’t say much. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You weren’t convinced. “You don’t seem fine. You’ve been so quiet lately.”

And that’s when you said it - the words you immediately regretted.

“You’re always talking about how hard you work, but maybe you should take a break. Sometimes it’s like you think you have to prove yourself constantly...but you don’t.”

It wasn’t meant to hurt him. You had said it because you cared, because you had watched him work himself to the bone without ever showing any signs of slowing down. But the moment the words left your lips, you saw Changbin’s entire demeanor change.

His fingers tightened around his phone, and his eyes narrowed as he set it down on the coffee table. When he looked at you, his gaze was sharp, defensive.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice low, though you could hear the edge in it.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I just mean...you don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time.”

His jaw clenched tighter, and suddenly, the air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite grasp. Changbin sat up straighter, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at you.

“You think I’m overcompensating or something?” he asked, his tone colder than you’d ever heard from him. “Like I’m not good enough, so I have to try harder?”

You were stunned by his reaction, your heart starting to race. “No, that’s not what I meant-” You stuttered.

“Then what did you mean?” he interrupted, his voice louder now, almost confrontational. “Because it sounds like you think I’m not doing enough. Like I’m not enough.” You froze at his tone.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never seen Changbin like this - defensive, hurt, and shutting you out. He was usually the one with the most confidence, always sure of himself. But now, it was as if you had shattered something inside him, something you didn’t even know was fragile.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice faltering. “I just- I know how hard you work, and I worry about you.”

Changbin stood up, his movements tense, as if trying to escape the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. His frustration was palpable.

“Worry about me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what it’s like. You don’t get it. Everyone expects me to be this - this strong, perfect version of myself. If I stop for even a second, I feel like I’ll fall behind, like I’ll fail.”

You stood up too, reaching out for him, but he took a step back, creating more distance between you. His words cut through you like glass, the raw emotion behind them catching you off guard.

“I never said you were failing, Changbin. I just-"

“You didn’t have to,” he snapped, his voice filled with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “But that’s what it feels like. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And now you’re telling me the same thing. The one person I would think wouldn't tell me that!”

His eyes were dark, filled with frustration and hurt. The walls he had carefully built around himself over the years were crumbling, and you were standing in the wreckage, helpless to fix it.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

But he wasn’t listening. He turned away from you, his hands gripping the back of a chair, his knuckles white with tension.

“I need to be alone,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “I can’t do this right now.”

You watched him walk away, your heart breaking as the distance between you seemed to grow wider with every step he took. The sound of the bedroom door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart heavy with regret.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

You hadn’t meant to upset him. The last thing you wanted was to make Hyunjin feel small or inadequate, but somehow, in the middle of a conversation that had started so innocently, you said something you couldn’t take back.

The two of you were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, an empty bowl of ice cream between you as you talked about the latest art exhibit he’d visited. Hyunjin’s eyes always lit up when he talked about art - it was a passion that fueled him just as much as music. But tonight, something was off.

He had been unusually quiet the whole evening, his usual spark dulled. You had noticed it right away but thought maybe he was just tired. Still, the longer the silence stretched, the more concerned you became.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

Hyunjin sighed, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “I don’t know. It’s just...I’ve been feeling a little off lately.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue. “Off? How?”

He hesitated, biting his lip before finally answering. “I’ve been feeling like...I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am. Like I’m just pretending to be this perfect version of myself. When I see other people’s work, especially in art, I can’t help but compare myself. I feel like I’ll never be able to reach that level.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you wanted to reassure him, to tell him how talented he was. But instead, without thinking, you said, “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. No one expects you to be.”

His expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, and you realized too late what you had just implied.

“So...you...think I’m not good enough?” he asked, his voice quieter but laced with hurt.

Your stomach dropped. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?” His tone grew sharper, and you could see the cracks forming in the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Because it sounds like you’re saying I’m not living up to everyone’s expectations. Let alone yours.”

“I just meant you’re already enough,” you said quickly, panic rising in your chest. “You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t hearing you. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he began pacing around the room. His long fingers ran through his hair in frustration.

“Do you know how hard I try?” His voice wavered, a mix of anger and sadness. “Every day, I’m fighting to be better, to live up to the image everyone has of me. People look at me and expect me to be this flawless, beautiful person who has everything figured out. But I don’t! I don’t have it all together.”

You stood up, following him as he paced. “Hyunjin, I know you-”

“Do you?” He turned to face you, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion you couldn’t name. “Because it feels like you think I’m not good enough either. Like I’m just pretending.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The Hyunjin you knew - the sensitive, artistic soul who poured his heart into everything he did -was unraveling before your eyes, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“That’s not true,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I think you’re incredible. I just-”

“Then why does it feel like you don’t believe in me?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m constantly failing?”

You were at a loss for words. Every attempt to reassure him seemed to make things worse, and the walls he had put up between you were growing taller by the second.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your own tears threatening to spill over.

Hyunjin shook his head, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself together. “I just...I can’t do this right now. I need space.”

The finality in his voice made your heart break. He turned away from you, heading toward the bedroom, leaving you standing in the kitchen, alone and devastated.

The silence that followed his departure was deafening, and as you stared at the empty space where he had stood, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just lost him for good.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

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#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz stay #stray kids #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz #christopher bang #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #skz hyung line #stray kids angst #pnutbutternjelyy #🥜🧈🪼

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 days

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I LITERALLY THOUGHT OF YOUR JASON WHEN I SAW THIS TIK TOK: it was someone getting emotional because of their s/o reconnect with hobbies they did during their childhood.

and i just thought of jason presenting reader with baked treats, unknowingly rambling about the treats him and alfred made to give to bruce and kids of crime alley.

and reader just tearing up or (if like me) full on crying and jason holds your hands with his mitten hands, wondering if you burnt yourself from eating them too quick. only for reader to be emotional over his hobbies before he died :(

Cookie Sheets

Ah!! Wait, I LOVE this. Here's a little (mostly) fluffy ramble that spiraled because self-control and Jason Todd do not go together for me. ~500 words

You didn't think anything of it, when Jason picked up baking ingredients during your weekly grocery shopping trip.

You were mildly curious, when he pulled out a worn, handwritten page from his pocket and started to move around the kitchen, pulling bowls and pans out of the cupboards.

You were engaged, watching silently from where you're sat, when the smell of baked goods started to fill your apartment.

He was obviously focused, eyebrows knitted together, and lower lip pulled between his teeth. You really, really wanna listen to the cliché 'kiss the cook' apron he's wearing, but something about the intent look in his eyes tells you this is important.

So you wait, content to study him as he moves fluidly around the kitchen. Your bright grin matches the giddy expression on his face when the oven timer goes off.

It's when he's finally, carefully moving each cookie off the tray to cool when he starts to talk, "Alfred and I used to bake together all the time."

You straighten out immediately, "Yeah?"

He hums in acknowledgment, "Yeah. For everyone, really. Brownies that B took into the office for his meetings. Cakes for Dick to take back to the Titans. Bags of cookies for the kids on the streets. Pies for the shelters in Park Row."

"Oh," You say softly, and the weight of what he's doing settles on your shoulders. It makes your throat tighten, in grief of what was taken from him and in pride that he's rekindling that part of his life.

You almost want to cry over the fact that he's really always been so good. You practically jump out of your seat, moving to pluck a cookie off the counter.

"Doll," Jason practically cries out, voice pitching. He goes to snatch the treat from your hand, "It's still hot!"

You bite into the cookie instead, "It's delicious."

His eyes soften a little, but he still fixes you with a disbelieving gaze, lifting your hand to inspect it for burns, "They weren't going anywhere, you know."

"We can make more, if you want. Take them down to the soup kitchen," You suggest, a little sheepish as he presses a kiss to your fingertips.

Jason smiles at you, and you know you've said the right thing, "I'd like that." His eyes dart back to the cookies for a moment, "Were they really good? It's been a while since I, uh, made them."

You grab another cookie and grin, biting into it even under his disapproving glare. This time, you listen to the apron and plant a kiss on his cheek, "They're good. Really good."

He kisses your forehead in return and tentatively picks up a cookie, turning it over and inspecting his work. He takes a bite, like he's braced for it to be nothing like he remembers. But his body relaxes instead, "Yeah, doll, they are."

You spoil yourself and chase his lips, curious to see if his baking tastes just as good on his tongue. (It does)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #fluff

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moonlight-canavalia · 22 hours

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Sentimentality

It’s been a while since I’ve written and posted anything so here it is. I swear Sylus has not left my mind since I started playing.

Anyways here’s a little Sylus reassurance when you’re having doubts!

Warning: kisses, light teasing, uh implied cunnilingus that’s about to start at the end

If you prefer AO3 here!

Divider by cafekitsune

There had been a somewhat heavy feeling in your chest that you’ve been ignoring. You’re not sure where that weight is coming from or better yet— that insecurity . Does he really want you for the long run? It seems like it, and though mischievous with his words, he is very forward with his words and action.

“Sylus, if something happened to me, what would you do?” You ask sprawled out on his bed while he’s getting ready for his meeting. In your mind it sounded like a simple enough question. Honest curiosity laces your tone. His hands suddenly stop, shirt only halfway done. Sylus’s face scrunches up in disgust at the thought of it. Before turning to face you, he makes sure to relax his facial features. “Are you planning to go away, kitten? Any mission worrying you?” disguising his worry in an almost casual tone “want me to tag along? You know I’ll go with you. Just ask, sweetie.”You're still looking up at the ceiling. Arms resting by your side lost in thought. “Hhhmm, just asking. I guess.”Sylus has moved to the foot of the bed, grabbing you by your ankles – pulling you towards him. Surprised by his actions you let out a startled yelp. He’s not sure what’s going on through your head, and he’s not sure how to ask you. While he might be brass, always getting straight to the point there’s something a little off about you today. Your smile isn’t quite reaching your eyes, not as talkative, lost in your own little world. So, he wants to make sure you truly understand and believe his words over all else.

Dropping your legs at the edge of the bed so he’s able to stand between them he slowly bends down. Caging your body under his to stop you from getting away. His piercing gaze unsettles you for a second, leaving you frozen in place. In a flash his crimson eyes soften, filling with such a warmth that makes you feel like a soothing balm has been poured over the cracks in your heart. “I’d set the entire world on fire and spend the rest of eternity searching for any trace of you in those ashes.” — He speaks in earnest, deep voice sounding hoarse. Words spoken slowly and low, as if he’s telling the secrets of the universe. Secrets meant to be kept between you and the four walls of this room. Cupping your cheek with one hand while shifting his body weight on the other to not lose eye contact with you; he adds “Nothing, no one will ever take you away from me. Not the heavens or me getting lost in the nine circles of hell can rip me away from you. I will always search for you and I will always find you.”Lost for words all you manage out is a shaky breath. all as a response. If there’s one thing Sylus is, it is honest. This is something you know, but the profoundness of his words stun you. You feel like your brain is malfunctioning, not being able to come up with words. Eyes wide and watery, you can hear the rush of your blood in your ears. Your heart beats wildly like a trapped bird wanting to escape its enclosure.“I don’t enjoy these questions, sweetie. Especially coming from your pretty mouth” Placing both of his hands on either side of your head, he gently leans in for a kiss, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Giving you a quick peck, then you feel his lips brushing the shell of your ear “You’re mine and you’re not going anywhere”.Wrapping your arms around his neck you gently tug him towards you, so more of his body weight is on you. Just wanting to feel him close, enjoying the warmth of his body on yours. There are many things you’d like to say, numerous emotions and feelings you’d like to voice. But it all gets tied at the back of your throat. With a lack of words to summarize it all a simple “thank you” escapes your trembling lips.

Those words mean a lot to Sylus, it’s something he rarely hears. And with the way it fell from your mouth so willingly, no ulterior motives behind it only raw emotions dripping in sincerity; now leaves him lost for words. He hopes you know how much he adores you, how much you mean to him, how you’re the best thing to come into his life. How he’ll always defy fate and search for you. When the time comes he’ll sit you down and recount your past together. Not now though. For now he’ll just enjoy having you with him once again .

Resting his forehead against yours for a few seconds he decides on staying in tonight. The meeting can be rescheduled, anything can wait when it comes to you. “Let’s just stay here tonight, Sweetie” he murmurs.

“I wasn’t aware I was even invited to accompany you in the first place.” you retort. A small chuckle rumbles in his chest. A sound you can’t get enough of.

“You would think at this point in time you don’t need an invitation. You’re always free to come with me if you desire” Sylus says, like it should be the most obvious thing to you.

Rolling your eyes playfully at him you quip “Well personally I prefer to be told that you’d like me there.”

“I always want you with me. Are you not aware of that?” the silver haired male asks, looking quizzically at you. “Oh.” “Yeah, oh, sweetheart.” he taunted, with the corner of his lips upturning in that dangerous smirk of his. “You’d be wise to remember that in the foreseeable future.”Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pins your hand over your head. Softly he squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. A tender reminder, that both of you are here, together right now. In your mind, you know you both are tied together. There’s a pull that can’t be destroyed between the two of you, you can't make sense of it. It feels like you both have known eachother for lifetimes. Little did you know that's exactly what's happening. Sylus has crossed galaxies, timelines, time and time again to find you. The bending of time or the fact that he's destined to lose you and find you again again is nothing. You are his love, the person his heart belongs to, he'll turn himself into a monster if it means seeing you once again. Rising from on top of you he kneels on the floor. Once again snaking his big arms around the back of your knees and pulling your core towards his mouth. This is where I belong. Beneath you, you can do anything to me and I’d be grateful, you can command me to do anything and I’ll do it without a second thought. Ask and you shall receive.” He says while kissing your thighs.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #l&ds #love & deepspace #l&ds sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #lads #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #reader insert #qin che

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apollogeticx · 2 days

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✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL ♡·˚

— [♡] ; love it's in the moments you don’t speak—the glances, the touches, the unspoken promises. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: mutual pining, fem!reader, fluff, intimacy, comfort, slow build, flirty gojo, first kiss, soft moments, special grade sorcerer reader, gojo is very much clearly simping

wc. 11K *phew!*

It had been a few years since you last stepped foot in Jujutsu High. The familiar grounds looked the same, though they seemed quieter without the chaos of students running around. The memories of training, missions, and countless teasing remarks from your former teacher all came flooding back as you walked up the path toward the main building.

You had been away, working tirelessly in the field, honing your cursed techniques, taking on increasingly difficult missions. It had all led to this moment. Today, you were returning to be officially promoted to a Special Grade Sorcerer.

As you approached the entrance, you felt a mixture of pride and nerves. After all, you hadn’t seen Gojo Satoru since graduation. It wasn’t like you hadn’t kept in touch with your friends, but Gojo… he was different. You knew he’d be at the promotion ceremony, and somehow, that thought made your heart race.

Stepping inside, you looked around, the echo of your footsteps filling the hallway. A part of you hoped you might run into Gojo before the ceremony, but knowing him, he’d probably make a grand entrance—like always.

"Well, well. Look who’s back."

The voice came from behind you, teasing and all too familiar. You turned quickly, and there he was—Gojo, standing casually with that same cocky smile, hands in his pockets, and his blindfold once again wrapped around his head.

"You still like sneaking up on people, I see," you said, trying to sound calm, though your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

He grinned. "And you still get flustered just as easily. Some things never change, huh?"

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but you weren’t the same shy student you had been before. You had grown, faced some of the worst curses in existence, and yet Gojo still had this effect on you.

"I didn’t expect you to greet me so soon," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I thought you'd be too busy for that."

"Busy?" Gojo’s grin widened as he sauntered closer. "I made time just for you. After all, a former student coming back to get promoted to Special Grade? That’s a big deal."

You felt a swell of pride at his words, but also a little self-conscious. "It feels surreal. I mean, being here again… and, well, being promoted."

"Surreal, huh?" He tilted his head, eyeing you with amusement. "Kid, you’re more than ready. I saw that years ago."

His words caught you off guard. Despite everything you had accomplished, hearing Gojo acknowledge your strength like this—it felt like something had come full circle. He had always pushed you, teased you, but he also believed in you more than anyone else.

"I wasn’t so sure back then," you admitted softly, "but I guess I’ve learned a lot since."

Gojo nodded slowly, a rare look of seriousness flickering across his face. "I knew you would. You’ve got the strength, and more importantly, the heart for this kind of work."

You blinked, surprised by his sincerity. He wasn’t just teasing you now—this was Gojo at his most genuine, and it made your chest tighten.

"Thanks, Gojo-sensei," you murmured, your voice soft. "That means a lot, coming from you."

He shrugged, the playful smile returning. "Don’t get all emotional on me now, kid. We’ve got a whole ceremony to get through. You’ve earned this, and then some."

The two of you fell into step as you walked toward the meeting hall. Gojo’s presence next to you was both comforting and slightly overwhelming, like it always had been.

As you reached the doors, Gojo stopped, turning to you with a mischievous look in his eye. "You know, I’m technically supposed to give a speech during your promotion. Maybe I’ll tell everyone about how you used to hide behind Megumi when I’d mess with you."

You groaned, shaking your head with a small laugh. "Please don’t."

He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’ll be nice. Maybe."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Despite the teasing, it felt good to be back in this familiar dynamic. The butterflies in your stomach hadn’t fully settled, though. Something about standing next to Gojo again stirred up old feelings—feelings you thought you had long buried.

As the doors opened and you stepped inside the hall, the attention of the other sorcerers turned to you. Gojo followed closely behind, his presence commanding the room as always. But this time, the spotlight wasn’t on him—it was on you.

The ceremony was a blur, words of congratulations and praise drifting in and out of focus. You stood tall, trying to keep your composure, but your mind kept drifting to Gojo, who leaned casually against the wall, watching the proceedings with an unreadable expression behind his blindfold.

When it was over, and the room began to empty, you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You were officially a Special Grade Sorcerer now. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted, but at the same time, a new pressure settled in its place.

Before you could get lost in thought, Gojo appeared at your side again, his hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. "See? Told you it wasn’t that bad."

You smiled, looking up at him. "Yeah… I guess you were right."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two. Then Gojo’s hand slid off your shoulder, and he gave you a lazy grin. "So, what’s next for the newly promoted Special Grade?"

"I’m not sure yet," you replied honestly. "But… I’m excited to find out."

Gojo studied you for a second, his grin softening. "Good. You’ve come a long way, kiddo. I’m proud of you."

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, but before you could respond, Gojo leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping just for you to hear.

"By the way, if you ever need a reminder of how far you’ve come," he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear, "you can always come back. I’ll be here."

You swallowed hard, feeling your face heat up all over again. He pulled back, that teasing smile still on his lips, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"Thanks," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Gojo chuckled and stepped back, giving you a small wave as he turned to leave. "See you around, kid."

Some things really didn’t change. But this time, you didn’t mind.

It felt like home.

As you walk down the steps of Jujutsu High, you can still feel Gojo’s presence outside, his energy as unmistakable as always. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the grounds, and there’s something surreal about being here again—not as a student, but as an equal. Or as close to an equal as anyone can get with someone like Gojo.

Your eyes land on him, leaning casually against a tree near the gates, the evening light catching in his silver hair. He’s not even trying to be inconspicuous. things never change.

"I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost," he calls out as you approach, his tone as playful as ever. "Or did you just need a moment to compose yourself after all those heartfelt congratulations?"

You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. "You weren’t even waiting here for that long. I thought you’d be off somewhere causing trouble."

"Waiting? Nah, I was just enjoying the peace and quiet before you showed up," he quips, though the smile on his face suggests otherwise.

You walk up to him, arms crossed over your chest, but there’s a flicker of boldness in your step. You’ve changed since the last time you were here, and you can feel it in the way you hold yourself. And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to push back a little this time.

"Still wearing that blindfold, I see," you remark casually, your eyes flicking up to the familiar fabric covering his eyes. "You know, I thought someone as unpredictable as you might’ve switched it up by now."

Gojo’s grin widens, clearly enjoying where this is going. "Oh? And what do you suggest I wear? Something more 'grown up' like you? You do seem different, but I didn’t think you’d start giving me fashion advice."

You shrug with a smirk. "I don’t know, maybe something a little less… lazy. Or are you afraid of people seeing those famous eyes of yours too often? I hear it’s bad for their health."

Gojo chuckles, the sound deep and warm. "You really have gotten bolder. I like it."

You tilt your head, feeling the dynamic between you shift ever so slightly. There’s a tension now, a playful kind that wasn’t there before. When you were a student, he always had the upper hand, teasing you endlessly, knowing you’d blush and fumble your words. But now… now you’re not quite as easy to fluster.

"Well," you say, stepping a little closer, "I had to get better at keeping up with you eventually. I’ve had plenty of practice dodging your teasing over the years."

Gojo’s grin falters for the briefest moment, replaced with something more thoughtful as he watches you. He shifts his weight, pushing off the tree and straightening up, towering over you as he often does. "Oh, I don’t know. I think you secretly enjoyed all that teasing."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you blush. Not this time. "Maybe," you say with a smirk of your own, "but I think you enjoyed it more."

That catches him off guard. His eyebrows raise slightly, and for a split second, you see something flicker across his face—surprise, amusement, and something else you can’t quite place. He recovers quickly, though, leaning in just a bit closer, his voice lowering as if you’re sharing a secret.

"Well, aren’t you full of surprises today," he murmurs, his tone teasing but laced with something more, something that makes your pulse quicken. "You really have grown up."

You meet his gaze—or, you would if his eyes weren’t covered by that damn blindfold. But you feel the weight of his presence all the same, and it’s clear that this conversation is walking a fine line between old dynamics and something entirely new.

"I had to," you reply, your voice steady despite the way your heart is racing. "Couldn’t stay the same shy kid forever, right?"

Gojo hums, taking a step back but keeping his gaze locked on you. "True. Though, I have to admit, the shy part was kind of cute."

You scoff, trying not to let the compliment—or whatever that was—get to you. "Cute? Really? You’ve got a strange way of showing affection, Gojo-sensei."

His grin turns playful again, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s enjoying this new dynamic as much as you are. "I thought that was obvious by now. I’ve been nothing but affectionate with my favorite students."

"Affectionate? Is that what you call it?" You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer again, refusing to let him have the upper hand. "Because if that’s your idea of affection, you might need to work on your delivery."

Gojo laughs, a full, genuine laugh that lights up his entire face. "And here I thought I was being subtle."

"Subtle? You?" You shake your head, the smile on your face growing. "You’re about as subtle as a curse rampaging through Tokyo."

Gojo clutches his chest dramatically. "Ouch, kid. I’m starting to think you’ve really grown out of my charming personality."

You take another step, closing the distance between you two even more. "Maybe I’ve just grown into someone who can handle it better."

He’s close now, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a moment, the playful teasing gives way to something else. It’s like the air between you shifts—still light, but charged with an energy that wasn’t there before. You both know you’re walking into new territory, uncharted but not unwelcome.

Gojo studies you for a moment longer, and you can tell that he’s enjoying this new version of you, the way you push back, the way you don’t shy away from him anymore. "You know," he says, his voice a little softer now, "I might have to start taking you seriously if you keep this up."

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe you should’ve been doing that all along."

He grins, but there’s something genuine behind it. "Touché."

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the teasing falling into a comfortable silence. There’s no need to fill the space with words; you both know what’s unspoken between you. It’s a shift, a recognition that the dynamic between you is different now, more equal, more balanced.

Finally, you break the silence, feeling just bold enough to push a little further. "By the way," you say, your voice casual but laced with meaning, "I’m staying at a hotel nearby for a month. You know, in case you feel like catching up… or if you want to see how much I’ve ‘grown up.’"

Gojo’s grin falters for just a second, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—surprise, intrigue, and maybe even a bit of challenge. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s replaced with his usual smirk.

"Oh?" he drawls, his voice low and teasing. "Well, don’t be too disappointed if I show up unannounced. I do have a habit of keeping people on their toes."

You chuckle, feeling the weight of his words, the unspoken promise hanging between you. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As you turn to leave, you notice Gojo falling into step beside you. His long strides easily match your pace, and though you’re both heading toward the parking lot where your car is waiting, it feels like neither of you is quite ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Walking me to my car, Gojo-sensei?" you tease, glancing up at him with a playful smile. "I didn’t think you were the gentleman type."

He shrugs with a grin, hands in his pockets as he walks casually next to you. "Well, I’ve got to make sure my freshly promoted Special Grade sorcerer doesn’t get lost on her way out. Besides, who knows what kind of trouble you’ll attract in the dark?"

You roll your eyes at his exaggerated tone, though the teasing warmth in his voice makes it hard not to smile. "I think I can handle myself. I’ve been doing just fine all these years."

"True, but you know me. I like to make an impression," he says, the corner of his mouth tugging upward into a smirk. "Especially on people I care about."

You glance at him, catching the way his words linger in the air, heavier than usual. There's a subtle shift in the mood between you—something teetering on the edge of playful and something deeper, and you're both fully aware of it. You’re tethering new territory, and the dynamic between you two feels different now. Mature. Equal. Exciting.

"So, it’s about making impressions now?" you tease, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your chest. "And here I thought you just liked showing off."

"Who says it can’t be both?" he replies smoothly, Gojo looked at you with a mischievous smile, his pace slowing just a bit as if savoring the moment. "You’ve grown a lot, you know. Not just in skill, but…" He tilted his head, eyeing you with a playful glint. "You’ve got a bit more bite now. You’re not the same shy little student who used to hide behind Megumi."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "I *did not* hide behind Megumi."

"Oh, come on, kiddo." He nudged you gently with his elbow. "You used to blush every time I so much as looked your way. Admit it."

You tried to suppress the smile creeping onto your face but failed. "Okay, *maybe* I was a little flustered. But in my defense, you never made it easy."

He grinned, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping just a little. "I didn’t think I’d have to make it easy for you."

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you were both quiet, walking side by side, the teasing tension between you now more palpable. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks again, but this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment. There was something bold bubbling up inside you.

As you approached the parking area where your car was waiting, Gojo stopped, turning to face you. His grin softened, but the playful spark remained in his eyes. "Well, here we are. You sure you don’t want me to teleport you wherever you’re staying? Could save you some time."

You smiled, feeling the boldness surge within you. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll be fine driving on my own. But thanks for the offer, Gojo-sensei."

He arched an eyebrow at the way you said his name, his smirk widening. "You keep calling me ‘sensei’ like I’m still your teacher. But we both know that’s not exactly true anymore, right?"

You felt your heart race at his words. He was right—this wasn’t the same dynamic as before. Not anymore. You both knew it, and the air between you felt thick with unspoken possibilities.

You took a deep breath, stepping a little closer to him, daring yourself to take this a step further. "I guess you’re right. Maybe I should start calling you something else. After all, we’re both adults now."

Gojo’s grin faltered for just a second, a flash of surprise crossing his features before it was quickly replaced with amusement. "Oh? And what would you call me then?"

You tilted your head slightly, enjoying the rare sight of him being caught off guard. "I’ll have to think about that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really have grown. Look at you, teasing me back. I’m proud."

His words made your heart flutter in a way that felt different from before. But you weren’t done yet. Taking a bold step forward, you closed the remaining distance between you and Gojo. Before he could react, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

No Infinity.

The moment seemed to stretch, the warmth of your lips lingering against his skin, and for the first time in your relationship with Gojo, it felt like the roles had reversed. His smirk faltered, his body going still as if processing what had just happened.

When you pulled back, his usual cocky demeanor seemed to slip for just a moment, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

"That’s for all the times you teased me mercilessly," you said softly, your voice playful but steady. "And maybe for the times I didn’t tease you back when I should have."

Gojo blinked, and then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—wider than before, more genuine. "Well, well. You’re full of surprises tonight."

You shrugged, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the shift in dynamic. "I told you. I’ve grown up."

He let out a low laugh, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, you certainly have." He seemed to shake off whatever shock had held him back, his playful confidence returning in full force. "But don’t think I’m letting you get away with that so easily, kiddo."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What are you going to do about it?"

His grin was almost dangerous now, that familiar spark of mischief flashing in his eyes. "You’ll just have to wait and see."

The teasing tension between you felt like it was on the edge of something more, but before either of you could push it further, you decided to pull back, letting the moment simmer rather than boil over.

As you climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, Gojo stepped back, still watching you with that same teasing, unreadable look.

"Drive safe, kid," he called out, raising a hand in farewell.

You smiled, pulling away, but as you glanced in the rearview mirror, you couldn’t help but notice that he was still standing there, watching you drive off into the night.

It felt like the beginning of something new—something neither of you had quite figured out yet. But you were both adults now, and whatever came next, you knew it would be an interesting ride.

After a few days of settling into your routine post-promotion, things had started to feel more normal. Well, as normal as life could be for a Special Grade sorcerer. You’d spent most of your time either training or catching up on much-needed rest, all while reflecting on how surreal it was to be back at Jujutsu High—especially with the way things had shifted between you and Gojo.

The memory of the moment outside the school gates played on a loop in your mind. The teasing, the playful tension, the kiss you’d dared to press on his cheek. You couldn’t stop replaying the look of surprise on his face, the way his cocky grin had faltered, just for a moment. He was always so composed, so in control, but for a split second, you’d managed to throw him off. And you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

Now, it was late in the evening, and you found yourself sitting alone in your hotel room, the soft hum of city life outside your window. You had just finished a light training session earlier and returned to your room to freshen up. The thought of ordering room service for dinner crossed your mind as you flipped through the menu, your stomach growling in protest at the lack of food in it.

You settled on something simple and pressed the button to call down for service when your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Absentmindedly, you reached for it, half-expecting a message from one of your friends or perhaps a notification about your latest mission.

Instead, you saw a message from the hotel’s front desk.

"Gojo Satoru is here to see you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked at the screen, rereading the message just to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Gojo? Here? Now?

You hadn’t actually expected him to take up your offer. When you’d playfully mentioned your hotel stay, it had been more of a tease—an open-ended invitation, sure, but you didn’t think he’d actually show up. Not after how things had ended at the school. The kiss. The tension. The unspoken things that lingered between you both.

But apparently, Gojo had decided to take you up on your offer for dinner. The butterflies in your stomach returned full force as you tried to calm yourself. You knew him well enough to know he didn’t do anything without a reason—especially when it came to situations like this. And yet, here he was.

You glanced around your room, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were still in casual clothes—nothing fancy, just a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Hardly the outfit for hosting someone like Gojo, but you had no time to change.

A knock sounded at your door, and you took a deep breath, walking toward it with a mix of excitement and nerves.

When you opened the door, Gojo stood there, looking as infuriatingly laid-back and stylish as ever. He wasn’t in his usual sorcerer uniform tonight. Instead, he wore a dark, tailored jacket over a simple shirt and slacks, his blindfold notably absent, replaced by a pair of sleek sunglasses. His silver hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn’t bothered much with it, but of course, he still managed to look effortlessly put together.

"Surprise," he said, flashing that signature grin of his, as though showing up at your hotel room unannounced was the most natural thing in the world.

You leaned against the doorframe, trying to play it cool even though your heart was racing. "Gojo-sensei. I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that offer."

He stepped inside, brushing past you as if it were his place. "Well, you told me you’d be here for a month. Hope I’m not interrupting anything." He glanced around the room with a playful smile. "No secret sorcery rituals? No dangerous curses lurking around?"

You laughed, closing the door behind him. "No, no rituals. Just room service and me trying to figure out what to order for dinner."

"Room service?" Gojo raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Come on, you’re in the city. You can do better than hotel food."

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady despite his teasing. "Well, unless you’ve got a better suggestion, this is the easiest option."

Gojo grinned, pulling out his phone. "Lucky for you, I’m a man of many talents. How about I order us something decent?"

"Decent, huh? You sure about that?"

He waved off your skepticism, already tapping away at his phone as he sauntered over to the small table near the window and took a seat. "Trust me, I know the best spots. You’ll thank me later."

You watched him, half-amused and half-flustered by how comfortable he was making himself in your space. It felt strange—having him here, in your hotel room, of all places. And yet, it didn’t. Gojo always had a way of making any situation feel simultaneously normal and completely unexpected.

After a few minutes, he put his phone down, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look. "Food’s on the way. Hope you’re hungry."

You walked over and sat across from him, the hotel menu now forgotten. "I guess I’ll have to trust you on this."

Gojo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and for a moment, his expression softened. "So, how’s it been? Adjusting to the whole Special Grade thing. It’s a big step up."

You shrugged, grateful for the shift in conversation. "It’s been… weird, honestly. I’m still getting used to it. It’s not just the title—it’s everything that comes with it. Expectations, responsibilities. It feels like I’ve suddenly got all these eyes on me."

Gojo nodded, his tone a little more serious than usual. "That’s because you do. Being Special Grade means more than just power—it’s the influence, the way people look at you. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it."

His words were meant to reassure, but something about the way he said it made you think he understood better than most. You realized that despite all the bravado, Gojo had been carrying that weight for a long time. The weight of expectations, of being the strongest, of always having people watching, waiting for him to fail—or worse, succeed too easily.

"Thanks," you said, your voice softening. "Coming from you, that actually helps."

He gave you a small smile, but then, in typical Gojo fashion, the serious moment passed as quickly as it had arrived. "But don’t let it get to your head. I’m still stronger than you."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Always so humble, huh?"

"Someone has to keep you in check," he said with a wink.

A knock on the door interrupted your banter, and you stood to get the food, returning with two takeout bags that smelled divine. Gojo grinned as you set them on the table, already reaching for one of the containers.

"I told you it’d be good," he said, handing you your portion.

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. "Alright, I’ll give you that. Smells pretty good."

The two of you dug into the meal, the atmosphere relaxing as you ate, sharing stories and catching up on what you’d missed in each other’s lives over the past few years. Gojo regaled you with his usual exaggerated tales of missions and his ‘legendary’ exploits, making you laugh despite yourself. And for once, you found it easy to tease him back, knowing that you weren’t the timid student you used to be.

At one point, Gojo leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with a satisfied sigh. "See? Told you I knew the best spots."

You smirked, leaning forward. "Alright, alright. I’ll admit it. You were right about the food."

"That’s what I like to hear," he said, flashing you a grin.

As the conversation naturally slowed down, a comfortable silence settled between you both, and for a moment, you found yourself simply watching him. It was strange—having him here, sharing a meal in your hotel room, in such an ordinary, human moment. Gojo, despite everything, was still a bit of an enigma. He was larger than life, someone who seemed untouchable in so many ways. And yet here he was, in your space, being just… Gojo.

And then, as if sensing the shift in your thoughts, Gojo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his eyes locking with yours.

"You know," he said quietly, his voice softer now, "I wasn’t just here for the food."

Your heart skipped a beat, the playful atmosphere suddenly replaced with something more serious, more intimate. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words, but not entirely sure where he was going with this.

"Gojo—" you started, but he interrupted you, his smile soft but knowing.

"Satoru," he corrected, his voice low. "You don’t have to keep calling me ‘sensei’ anymore. We’re not at Jujutsu High."

The air between you felt thick, the casual banter from earlier now giving way to something deeper. You swallowed, feeling the tension rise, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something else. Something electric.

"Satoru," you said again, his name feeling intimate, like something shared in confidence. The moment stretched between you, and the air in the room felt thicker, almost charged. You hadn’t meant for it to get this way, not when you invited him to catch up. Yet here you were, the easy banter slipping into something else, something unfamiliar but undeniably tempting.

He didn't reply right away. Instead, he watched you, his gaze steady and intense, no teasing grin, no playful smirk—just focus. His eyes, no longer hidden behind a blindfold, had that same vibrant blue intensity, and they seemed to soften the longer he looked at you. He leaned back in his chair slightly, one hand lazily resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

You felt your pulse quicken, but the warmth that settled over you wasn’t just nerves—it was anticipation. The distance between you both felt almost too large now, despite being seated so close. A quiet hum of energy flowed between you, drawing you in, but neither of you was rushing to fill the silence.

Satoru’s voice broke through the quiet, low and unhurried. "You know… it’s been a while since I’ve had a dinner like this. Just us. No missions. No students. No chaos." His tone was lazy, like the way he stretched his words was deliberate, savoring each one.

You felt your body relax into the atmosphere, your earlier tension dissolving as the two of you settled into this slower, lazier rhythm. You leaned back in your chair, mimicking his posture, allowing your foot to nudge against his under the table, just lightly. You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but the casual touch felt like a gentle acknowledgment of the shift between you. Something more intimate, something more *present* was settling in.

Satoru glanced down at the small contact, the corners of his mouth twitching into a soft smile—different from his usual grin. It felt… private. "Careful," he said, his voice dropping a little lower, "or I’ll start thinking you’re trying to make a move on me."

You smiled back, feeling bolder in this new atmosphere. "And what if I am?"

There it was—a daring line neither of you had crossed before. The teasing had always been a part of your dynamic, but this? This was uncharted territory, and it sent a rush of excitement through you. You weren’t the same student he used to tease and fluster. You could hold your own now.

Satoru’s gaze flicked back to yours, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on the table again, closer now. The distance between you narrowed, and your foot was still resting lightly against his, the touch warm through the fabric of your soft socks.

His voice was quiet, but there was a deliberate slowness to his words. "Then maybe I should see where this goes."

The way he said it, lazy and inviting, made your heart race. You knew Satoru wasn’t one to shy away from anything, especially not when it came to these kinds of games. But this didn’t feel like a game anymore. The lazy, sexy atmosphere had shifted into something heavier, something more intimate and real.

Your breath hitched slightly as you watched him lean just a little closer. He wasn’t in any hurry. The tension simmered between you both, and it felt like he was savoring every second of it. His eyes never left yours, and the weight of his presence made the room feel warmer, smaller.

"I wasn’t expecting you to actually come," you admitted, your voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate balance between you.

Satoru smiled, slow and lazy. "What can I say? I like to keep you on your toes."

You smirked, shaking your head slightly. "I’m starting to think you enjoy seeing me flustered."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth, the kind that made the air feel heavier. "Maybe a little. But you’re not the same shy student anymore, are you? I have a feeling you can handle yourself now."

There was a deeper meaning to his words, and you felt it resonate through you. He was testing the waters, waiting to see how far you were willing to go.

Your heart raced, but this time, it wasn’t just nerves. It was a slow, delicious anticipation, like you were both slowly, lazily circling something inevitable. You leaned forward, closing the gap between you, your arms resting on the table now, much like his. The space between your faces felt almost too intimate, but neither of you pulled away.

"Maybe I can," you murmured, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Satoru’s gaze softened as his eyes traveled over your face, lingering on your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again. There was no rush, no urgency, but the tension between you hummed quietly, like something waiting to break free.

"You’ve got more confidence now," he said, his voice low and almost intimate. "I like it."

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Guess I had a good teacher."

He laughed quietly, the sound warm and teasing. "You might regret saying that."

For a moment, neither of you moved. The atmosphere between you was thick with anticipation, but it wasn’t the kind of tension that demanded immediate action. It was slow, deliberate, like you both wanted to savor the moment, to see where it would take you.

Then, without a word, Satoru reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours, his fingers warm and slightly rough. The touch was subtle but intimate, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy pattern across the back of your hand.

Your breath caught in your throat as you glanced down at the contact, your heart racing. It was such a simple gesture, but it sent a ripple of heat through you, settling low in your stomach. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. Instead, you let the moment stretch between you, the lazy, sexy atmosphere deepening with each passing second.

Satoru’s thumb continued its slow, deliberate movements, and when you looked up at him again, his expression had softened. There was no teasing grin now, no cocky smirk. Just him, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

"You’re not running away," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I’m not the same person I was, Satoru."

His gaze held yours, and for a moment, the playful banter disappeared completely, replaced by something far more intimate, far more real.

"No," he agreed, his voice quiet and serious. "You’re not."

And then, he stood up, moving around the table with a slow, deliberate grace that made your heart race. He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering over you as he leaned down, one hand resting on the back of your chair.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your breath catching as his face hovered just inches from yours. The tension between you was almost unbearable now, the lazy, slow atmosphere pulling you both into its gravity. You could feel the warmth of his body so close to yours, the space between you almost nonexistent.

Satoru’s hand moved from the chair to your chin, his touch gentle but firm as he tilted your face up to meet his. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, and your pulse quickened, your breath shallow as you waited, the air between you electric.

"You sure you can handle this?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though there was a seriousness behind his words, a quiet question.

You smiled softly, leaning into his touch, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I think I can."

Satoru’s lips curled into a slow, lazy smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned in, the space between you disappearing entirely.

Satoru's thumb lingered on your lips for just a second longer, tracing the outline of your bottom lip with a feather-light touch. The gesture was slow, deliberate, and unhurried, as if he was savoring the moment just as much as you were. His face was close—so close you could feel the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. The lazy, electric atmosphere between you seemed to buzz, both of you aware of the unspoken tension but not rushing to cross any lines too quickly.

You could feel the weight of his hand on your chin, firm yet gentle, like he was giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. The space between you both was charged, like a silent dare to see who would push things further first.

"You’re not scared, are you?" Satoru asked, his voice low and teasing, yet there was a softness there, like he was genuinely curious about how far you were willing to go.

You met his eyes, those blue depths that held a thousand secrets, and felt a shiver run down your spine. Despite the playful nature of his words, there was something real simmering beneath them, something that felt new and exciting.

"Not scared," you replied softly, feeling a boldness rising inside you, your own voice taking on that same slow, lazy quality as the room around you. "Just… curious."

Satoru’s grin widened, just slightly, his gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "Curious, huh?" His voice was almost a whisper now, and you could feel the weight of each word settle in the air between you, as if testing how far you were willing to explore this new territory.

"Mm-hmm," you murmured, leaning into the moment, into the tension that felt more like a game between the two of you. Your heart was racing, but the pace was slow, controlled, as though you were both allowing yourselves the space to figure out exactly where this was going. "Aren’t you?"

Satoru’s eyes gleamed with that familiar mischief, but this time, it was different—laced with something deeper, more curious. His hand shifted from your chin to cup the side of your face, his touch soft yet confident, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that made your skin tingle.

"Maybe," he said, his tone casual but heavy with meaning. "I’m always curious about what happens next."

You felt your breath catch as his thumb continued its slow, lazy path over your skin, drawing a line down to your jaw. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t a heated, desperate moment. Instead, it felt like the two of you were experimenting, testing the waters with each small touch, each slow breath.

The intimacy of it all settled over you like a warm blanket—soft, enveloping, but not overwhelming. You were both here, in this quiet, lazy bubble, just the two of you figuring things out one heartbeat at a time. His hand lingered, his fingers sliding back behind your ear, his touch sending a light thrill down your spine, making the room feel smaller, quieter, more intense.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were aware of the way your breath had quickened slightly, the way your heart pounded beneath your skin, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It felt natural, like this slow dance of curiosity was meant to be drawn out.

Satoru leaned in just a little more, his lips now just a breath away from yours. His eyes never left yours, like he was gauging your reaction, giving you the space to decide what came next. You could feel the tension between you, lazy but buzzing, both of you savoring the slow build-up.

"You want to test the waters a bit more?" His words were playful, but his voice had dropped lower, his tone laced with something heavier, like he was offering you a choice.

You tilted your head just slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you whispered back, "Maybe."

His grin softened, and in that moment, he seemed to relax into the atmosphere fully, leaning in until his forehead gently brushed against yours. The simple contact sent a wave of warmth through you, and you found yourself leaning into him, letting the tension build lazily, neither of you in a rush to dive in too deep just yet.

Satoru’s hand slid down to your neck, his fingers trailing lightly across your skin, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake. His touch was gentle, almost experimental, like he was testing your reactions with each small movement.

"Still curious?" he murmured, the soft, teasing words sending a shiver down your spine. His voice was low, intimate, and it felt like a quiet invitation to keep exploring this moment, this new space you were both creating together.

You smiled, leaning into the feeling of his hand on your skin, the slow, lazy heat between you building with every passing second. "More curious than ever."

His laugh was soft, rumbling against your skin, and you could feel the warmth of it, the way it settled into the air around you. The closeness between you was intoxicating, but neither of you felt the need to rush things.

His fingers continued their slow exploration, tracing the line of your collarbone, sending light shivers through your body. You let your eyes close for a moment, focusing on the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his presence so close to yours.

Then, you felt him shift slightly, and when you opened your eyes again, his lips were hovering just a breath away from yours. He didn’t move any closer, though—just stayed there, waiting, watching you with that same lazy, teasing grin that always seemed to make your heart race.

"You sure about this?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips.

You nodded, your own smile soft as you met his gaze. "Yeah, I’m sure."

And then, slowly, deliberately, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips softly against his.

The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, like the two of you were still testing the waters, still figuring out how to navigate this new territory. But it wasn’t hesitant—it was curious, exploratory, as though you were both enjoying the slow, lazy build-up just as much as the kiss itself.

Satoru’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, but still keeping the pace slow, deliberate. His lips moved against yours in a way that made your skin tingle, every small movement sending ripples of warmth through you.

You could feel him smile against your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile back, the intimacy of the moment deepening as you both relaxed into the kiss, letting the curiosity between you take the lead.

Neither of you was in a hurry. The kiss stayed soft, exploratory, as though you were both savoring each second, each small movement, letting the lazy, intimate atmosphere guide you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing a little heavier, but still wrapped in that quiet, comfortable space you’d created together.

"Well," Satoru said, his voice still low and teasing, "I think I like this kind of curiosity."

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over you, content in the knowledge that you had all the time in the world to keep exploring where this would take you. "Me too."

You push back your chair and stand slowly, the wooden legs scraping softly against the floor. Satoru steps back to give you space, his expression shifting from that lazy smirk to something more thoughtful, more curious, as he watches your movements closely. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but there’s no rush in the air between you—just that same slow, deliberate energy humming beneath the surface.

With a subtle flick of your wrist, your cursed energy ripples through the room, and the overhead lights dim, casting a soft, intimate glow around you both. The warm light now barely illuminates the space, creating shadows that stretch lazily across the room, giving everything a deeper, more intimate feel.

Satoru watches with an amused but impressed look, his eyes tracking the subtle shift in the atmosphere. His smile returns, a little softer now, more curious than before. "Setting the mood, huh?" he teases, but there’s no bite in his words, just a low, lazy murmur.

You turn to face him, your heart still beating steadily, though now there’s an air of playfulness in the way you move, more sure of yourself than before. "Well," you say with a small smile, "I figured we might as well make it comfortable, right?"

Satoru chuckles under his breath, stepping closer, the soft shadows playing over his features as he tilts his head slightly. "Comfortable, huh? Is that what you’re going for?" His tone is light, teasing, but there’s a softness to it, like he’s intrigued by this new side of you. He lets his gaze drift around the room, as if taking in the subtle change in atmosphere, before his eyes find yours again.

You feel the air between you shift even more as you close the small distance, the glow of the dimmed lights making everything feel warmer, more intimate. The shadows accentuate the way Satoru’s silver hair catches the light, the lines of his features more pronounced in the low light.

Satoru’s hands rest loosely at his sides, his posture relaxed but alert, as if waiting for your next move. He doesn’t rush in, doesn’t make a move to close the gap this time. Instead, he watches you, those bright blue eyes peering at you with a kind of lazy curiosity, letting you take control of the moment.

You take a step closer, standing just a breath away now, the soft hum of tension between you growing in the dimmed light. Your hands hover just in front of him, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric of his jacket, testing the waters, watching for his reaction.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans in just a fraction, his body language open, relaxed, and welcoming. His gaze remains fixed on yours, and though his smirk is still there, it’s tempered by something more sincere, something more curious.

"Is this part of your technique?" he asks softly, his voice low and smooth, teasing but with a hint of genuine interest. "Or are you just trying to distract me?"

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing lightly up the lapel of his jacket before resting on his chest. "Maybe a bit of both," you reply, your voice soft but confident.

Satoru chuckles again, his breath warm against your skin as he leans in slightly, his hands finally coming up to rest gently on your waist, the touch lazy and casual but firm enough to let you know he’s fully present in this moment. His thumbs brush idly over your sides, and the simple contact sends a ripple of warmth through you, making the room feel even smaller, even more intimate.

"Seems like I’m not the only one who likes to play games," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, his lips just a breath away from your temple.

You feel a smile tug at your lips as you lean into the warmth of his touch, your hands resting lightly against his chest. "Maybe I’ve learned a thing or two from the best," you say, your tone equally playful but laced with something deeper, something genuine.

The quiet between you thickens as you stand there, the soft light casting shadows across your bodies, the energy between you lazy but charged with a sense of anticipation. Satoru’s grip on your waist tightens just slightly, his fingers pressing into your sides as he pulls you closer, the space between you all but disappearing.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your temple in a feather-light touch before trailing down toward your ear, his voice a low, lazy murmur. "You really have grown up, haven’t you?" There’s a playful edge to his words, but it’s softened by the intimacy of the moment, by the way his hands move gently over your body, exploring without rushing, without demanding.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers curling lightly around the fabric of his jacket, holding him close but not pulling him in too tight.

"You don’t seem too surprised," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur as you rest your forehead lightly against his, the proximity making every small movement feel amplified.

Satoru’s lips curve into a lazy smile, his fingers brushing gently up and down your sides. "I think I’ve always known there was more to you than you let on."

His words are soft but laced with meaning, and they hang in the air between you, thickening the atmosphere even more. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the curiosity in his eyes as he watches your reactions, as if savoring each small shift in the energy between you.

You smile softly, your fingers playing with the fabric of his jacket as you let the moment stretch, the slow, intimate dance between you building with each passing second. "Maybe I was just waiting for the right moment."

Satoru hums softly, his hands sliding up your back now, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips. "Seems like now’s as good a time as any."

You can’t help but smile at the way his words settle over you, at the lazy, curious pace you’ve both set, like there’s no rush to figure everything out right away. The air between you is thick with anticipation, but it’s the slow kind, the kind that simmers and builds, neither of you in any hurry to rush the moment.

You lean in just a little closer, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth as you whisper, "Maybe it is."

The soft brush of your lips against the corner of his mouth lingers in the air, and you can feel the slight tension in Satoru’s body as he absorbs the moment. His hands on your waist tighten, just barely, as if anchoring you both in the lazy intimacy of the dimmed room. His breath catches for a second, and you sense the shift as curiosity gives way to something deeper, something far more intentional.

Satoru leans in, his lips barely grazing yours again, but this time, the hesitation dissolves. There’s no more teasing, no more waiting. The playful back and forth that had lingered between you shifts into a new rhythm, one filled with heat and slow, deliberate intent. His lips press fully against yours now, soft but firm, and you feel the warmth of him, the depth of the moment drawing you in.

The kiss is slow at first, lazy like everything else about this evening. Neither of you rushes it. You savor the feel of his lips moving against yours, the softness of his touch at your waist pulling you just a little closer until your bodies are fully pressed together. It’s like you’re both tasting the moment, letting it unfold naturally, as if the kiss has been building for longer than either of you realized.

Satoru’s hands slide up your back, the warmth of his palms seeping through the fabric of your shirt as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head just slightly to the side to get closer, to feel more of you. His mouth moves against yours in a slow, languid dance, as though he’s content to take his time, exploring each second, each shift in the way your lips meet. His fingers curl into the material of your shirt, gripping just enough to hold you in place, but not with any force—just enough to keep you tethered to him.

You respond in kind, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer still, your lips parting slightly to allow him deeper access. The kiss remains slow, unhurried, but with each passing second, the intensity builds. His tongue traces the edge of your lips before slipping between them, the warmth of him flooding your senses as you lose yourself in the sensation. The room around you seems to disappear, the dim lights and soft shadows fading into the background as the kiss becomes the center of everything.

Your fingers thread into the soft strands of his hair, pulling gently, and you feel a low hum rumble in his chest in response. It sends a shiver down your spine, the sound of his contentment deepening the connection between you both. There’s a sense of playfulness still, but it’s mingled with something deeper, more real. The curiosity you both had about what might happen has been replaced with a quiet certainty—this is happening, and neither of you wants it to stop.

The kiss grows deeper, more insistent, but it never loses that lazy, slow rhythm you’ve both settled into. It’s as if you’re both savoring every second, every brush of lips and hands, letting the moment stretch as long as possible without rushing into anything too fast.

You tilt your head, responding to the way his mouth moves against yours, your body molding against his as you press closer, feeling the heat radiate from him. His scent, his presence, his touch—all of it overwhelms your senses, drowning out everything else but the two of you standing here, exploring this new territory with slow, deliberate care.

His hands tighten on your hips as the kiss deepens further, his tongue brushing against yours in a lazy, teasing way that makes your knees weaken just slightly. It’s like he’s tasting you, savoring the way your bodies move together, your breath mingling with his in the soft quiet of the room.

Finally, when the need for air becomes undeniable, you pull back just slightly, your lips still grazing his as you both catch your breath. The air between you feels charged, the soft hum of tension still simmering but not quite boiling over. You can feel the heat between your bodies, the way your breaths are still shallow, mingling in the small space between you.

Satoru’s forehead rests gently against yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you can feel the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. His hands remain at your hips, keeping you close, and though the kiss has ended for now, the connection between you hasn’t weakened.

His voice is low, almost a murmur, as he speaks against your lips. "That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I came here tonight," he says, his tone teasing but soft, like he’s letting you in on a secret.

You smile, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you gently pull back just enough to look into his eyes. "What did you have in mind then?" you ask, your voice equally soft, your breath still shaky from the kiss.

Satoru chuckles, his thumb brushing lightly against your side. "Honestly? I don’t know anymore." There’s a softness in his gaze now, something far more genuine than the playful smirk he usually wears. "But I think I like where this is going."

You smile, feeling the warmth of his hands still resting on your hips, the way his body remains so close to yours. The lazy, intimate energy that had been simmering between you all night has deepened, but there’s no rush to push things further just yet. You both seem content to let this moment stretch, to keep testing the waters and seeing where it leads.

You pull back just slightly, your hands still resting on his shoulders as you tilt your head, giving him a teasing look. "So, you’re not regretting showing up unannounced?"

Satoru grins, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he shakes his head. "Regret? Nah, not my style."

You laugh softly, leaning into the warmth of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. "Good," you murmur, your voice soft but playful. "Because I wasn’t exactly planning on this either… but I’m not complaining."

"I like this side of you," he says quietly, his voice low, the teasing edge tempered by something softer, more sincere. "The confidence, the way you take control. It's different."

You meet his gaze, your own smile growing as you feel the weight of his words settle between you. "Maybe you bring it out of me," you reply, your tone matching his, slow and curious.

Satoru’s grin softens into something warmer, more intimate. "Maybe I do." His hand moves to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a tender, lingering caress. "And maybe… we should see where this goes."

The question hangs in the air between you, but there’s no pressure, no rush. It’s an invitation, a gentle promise that you both have all the time in the world to explore whatever this is, at your own pace.

You smile, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, and you nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you say, "Yeah. Let’s see where this goes."

The night had stretched on, a slow, lazy rhythm that matched the soft hum of energy between you and Satoru. What began with teasing touches and lingering kisses had transitioned into something deeper, more intimate. The dim light, the quiet, the way the air seemed to hold only the two of you—it all added to the steady, unhurried exploration of each other. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your skin, the soft brush of his lips on yours, the quiet laughter shared between more tender moments.

The details of the night blurred together, wrapped in the haze of half-whispered words and languid touches. The way he had pulled you closer, bodies fitting perfectly against one another as though you'd known each other in this way far longer than just one night. The warmth of his breath at your ear as he murmured something teasing, something that made your heart flutter and your skin tingle with anticipation. You had let yourself sink into the moment, the feeling of being wrapped up in him, of giving and receiving in a slow, steady rhythm.

And then the stillness afterward—the quiet between you as you lay together, breath steady, heartbeats calming. His arm had draped lazily over your waist, and your head had found a place on his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. There were no words, no need for explanations. The night had unfolded in a way that felt natural, as though it was meant to be.

Now, the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The air was still quiet, the city sounds outside muted and distant. You stirred slightly, feeling the sheets cool against your skin as you shifted. A soft hum escaped your lips as you blinked your eyes open, the remnants of sleep clinging to you.

Satoru was still beside you, lying on his back, one arm loosely thrown over his head, the other resting gently at his side. His silver hair caught the morning light, messy from sleep but somehow still perfect in that infuriatingly effortless way of his. His sunglasses were nowhere to be seen, and his eyes—those brilliant blue eyes—were closed, his expression soft and peaceful in the early light.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him like this, the usual confidence and cocky demeanor replaced with something more relaxed, more real. For a moment, you just watched him, the memory of the night before still fresh in your mind, the warmth of it settling over you like a blanket. It felt like a secret shared between the two of you, something just for you to hold onto.

Carefully, you shifted, slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, not wanting to disturb him just yet. The cool floor against your feet grounded you, bringing you fully into the present as you padded softly across the room. You found one of his shirts—something he must’ve discarded at some point in the night—and pulled it over your head, the fabric soft and warm, carrying the faint scent of him.

The room felt different in the morning light, the soft shadows from last night replaced with a golden glow. Everything felt quieter now, the intimacy of the night lingering in the air. You moved to the window, pulling the curtains back just slightly to let more light in, the city below beginning to wake up, though the world inside your room still felt like it was suspended in its own private moment.

Behind you, you heard the soft rustle of sheets, and when you turned back, Satoru had stirred. His eyes fluttered open, blinking against the light, and he stretched lazily, a small grin spreading across his face when he saw you standing there.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but laced with that familiar teasing tone.

"Morning," you replied softly, leaning against the window frame, your smile mirroring his.

Satoru propped himself up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around his waist as he gave you a once-over, his grin widening when he noticed you wearing his shirt. "Looks good on you," he said, his voice still carrying that lazy, slow rhythm from the night before.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Thought I’d steal it," you teased.

"By all means," he replied with a chuckle, stretching his arms above his head in a slow, languid motion, the muscles in his chest and shoulders shifting under the morning light. "It’s a good look."

There was something so easy about this moment—no awkwardness, no rush to define anything. Just the two of you, the intimacy of the night still hanging between you, soft and unspoken. Satoru leaned back against the headboard, his eyes lazily tracing your movements as you crossed the room, coming back toward the bed.

"You sleep okay?" you asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, feeling the warmth of his body next to you even through the thin layer of sheets.

"Like a baby," he murmured, his grin softening as he reached out, his hand finding your knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You?"

You nodded, your smile growing as you thought back to the comfort of falling asleep next to him, the quiet after the slow, intimate dance you'd shared. "Better than I have in a while."

Satoru’s fingers trailed lazily up your thigh, his touch warm and unhurried, just like everything else about this morning. He seemed content to take his time, to let the quiet intimacy between you both linger in the air. His eyes held yours, a slow, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Good," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, still carrying that lazy, teasing quality from the night before. "Though I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance if you’re up for it."

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you nudged him playfully. "You never change, do you?"

His grin widened, and he gave a small shrug, his hand sliding down your leg before coming to rest on the bed beside him. "What can I say? I’m consistent."

The lightness in his voice made you smile, and you leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against his lips before pulling back and standing again. "Let’s start with coffee first, shall we?"

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back onto the bed with an exaggerated groan. "Fine. But only because you make it sound tempting."

As you moved toward the small kitchenette, you could still feel the warmth of his gaze on you, his presence filling the room even in the quiet of the morning. The night before had been unexpected, yes—but somehow, it felt like the natural progression of whatever had been brewing between you for so long. And as the morning stretched on, with the scent of coffee beginning to fill the air, you couldn’t help but feel like this was only the beginning of something even more exciting.

Something worth exploring.

notes: i'm so sorry this is this long - but i had to keep writing uahdsuhudsh

163 notes · View notes

yzzyhee · 2 days

Text

reassurance — sjy

sim jake x reader

warnings: mentions of nightmare and break-up, pet names, lowcase written, one kiss, not proofread (if more pls lmk!)

wc: 916

synopsis: your boyfriend always knows how to reassure you

a/n: don’t ask me anything please i just felt the need to have a lovable jake moment 🙏🏻 feedbacks are appreciated 💓

“jake.”

“jakey.”

“jaeyun.”

“sim jaeyun.” you call out his name for the fourth time, but your boyfriend remains fast asleep, one hand tucked under your head and the other draped over your waist, holding you close.

you sigh softly, your breath shaky as you stare at jake’s peaceful face. his lips are slightly parted, his soft newly dyed blonde hair falling messily over his forehead. he looks so calm, so content and you feel a pang in your chest.

the remnants of the dream cling to you like a suffocating weight. it was vivid, so painfully real. you can still hear his voice — cold and distant —as he said the words you never thought you’d hear: "we’re over. i can’t do this anymore."

in the dream, you stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief. the way he avoided your eyes, the way he pulled away when you reached for him — every moment felt like a stab to your heart. you tried to ask why, tried to understand, but he wouldn’t explain. he just kept saying it was over, that he needed space, that you weren’t enough anymore.

your chest had tightened, your throat constricted with sobs you couldn’t release. you felt your world crumbling, breaking apart, and no matter how much you begged him to stay, to tell you what went wrong, he just… left.

the ache from that dream still lingers, gnawing at your thoughts, making your heart race even though you know — you know — was just a dream. but it doesn’t stop the doubt, the fear that maybe, deep down, he might feel that way.

you glance up at jake again, his features soft and relaxed in his sleep, the complete opposite of how he’d been in the nightmare. you feel the warmth of his arm around your waist, the weight of his body pressed gently against yours, but it doesn’t chase away the unease. what if, one day, he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t love you anymore.

tears sting your eyes. you hate how much that dream affected you, but it felt too real. you gently place your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, but it’s not enough to soothe the turmoil inside you.

"jake," you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if speaking any louder might make the dream real. "jakey, please wake up."

he doesn’t stir, still lost in his deep slumber. you bite your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check, but your voice cracks as you say his name again, a little louder this time. "jake."

you feel him shift slightly beside you, a soft groan escaping his lips. his eyes flutter open, blinking slowly as he tries to shake off the remnants of sleep. "babe?" his voice is hoarse, thick with drowsiness. "what’s wrong?"

his hand moves from your waist to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down your cheek. the concern in his gaze is instant, and it makes your heart ache even more.

"i had a… i had a bad dream," you admit, your voice trembling. "you… you broke up with me." saying the words out loud feels like reopening the wound. "you said you didn’t love me anymore. that you didn’t want me."

jake’s eyes widen, fully awake now, and in an instant, he’s pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "no, no, baby," he whispers, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. "that’s not true. it will never be true."

you bury your face in his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you, but the fear still lingers, clinging to your mind like a shadow. "it felt so real," you murmur, your fingers clutching his shirt tightly. "i tried to stop you, but you just… left. like i didn’t matter."

jake pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious but filled with so much love. "hey," he says softly, his voice steady. "look at me." his fingers gently tilt your chin up so your eyes meet his.

“ i’m not going anywhere. ever. okay? i love you. i love you more than anything."

you nod, but the tears keep coming. "what if—“

"no, stop," he interrupts gently, his thumb wiping away more of your tears. "there’s no ‘what if.’ i love you, and that’s not going to change. not today, not tomorrow, not ever. you matter to me. you are everything to me."

his words wrap around your heart, soothing the raw ache left by the dream. his gaze never wavers, filled with sincerity, and the warmth of his love radiates through every word, every touch.

jake leans in, pressing his lips softly against yours, a kiss filled with comfort and reassurance. " i’m right here," he whispers when he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. "always."

you take a deep breath, feeling the heaviness lift slightly, his presence grounding you. " i’m sorry," you whisper. " i didn’t mean to wake you."

"don’t be sorry," jake murmurs, his arms pulling you even closer. " i’m glad you did. i never want you to feel like that. ever." he kisses your forehead again, lingering as if to chase away any lingering traces of your nightmare. "you’ll never lose me, yn. i promise."

and for the first time since waking up, you believe him. you let yourself sink into his warmth, into the love that flows between you, and slowly, the fear begins to fade.

#— 💭 mars ; written work #— 💭 mars ; jakey thoughts #sim jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake fluff #jake fluff #jake soft hours #jake soft thoughts #sim jake soft #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #jake imagines #enhypen scenarios #jake scenarios #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts

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josephandrewstarkey · 24 hours

Note

drew and reader have a toddler but they are broken up because reader thinks that drew and odessa are together. drew came to pick up the toddler and they start arguing over nothing because they miss each other so much.

ty for your request anon, i hope you like it!

second chances

warnings: slight angst

disclaimer: this is absolutely no shade/hate towards odessa, this is simply just for the plot <3

words: 1.036

drew starkey x reader

The familiar sound of Drew’s car pulling up in the driveway sent a wave of tension through Y/N. She adjusted her grip on their toddler, Harper, who was happily babbling in her arms, blissfully unaware of the heavy silence that had settled between her parents for weeks.

It hadn’t been easy since the breakup. Y/N had thought she could handle it, but every time Drew came to pick up their daughter, the ache in her chest only grew deeper. It wasn’t just the end of their relationship that stung—it was the constant thought that he had moved on with Odessa. The rumors, the paparazzi photos, they all painted a picture that was too hard to ignore.

As Drew walked up the steps and knocked on the door, Y/N’s pulse quickened. She let out a slow breath and opened the door, greeted by the sight of him—his tousled hair, the familiar warmth in his eyes as he looked at Harper. For a moment, her heart faltered. Despite everything, seeing him still made her stomach flip.

“Hey,” Drew said softly, his eyes flicking to hers before focusing on Harper, who squealed with joy and reached out for him.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, handing their daughter over, careful to avoid letting their fingers touch. She couldn’t handle that right now.

Drew cradled Harper with ease, making her giggle as he kissed her cheek. For a moment, there was a pause, a heavy silence that neither of them knew how to fill.

“I’ve packed her bag,” Y/N said quickly, gesturing to the small backpack by the door. “Everything she’ll need for the weekend.”

Drew nodded, bouncing Harper slightly in his arms, though his gaze lingered on Y/N. “Thanks. I’ll have her back by Sunday night.”

Another stretch of silence filled the space between them, awkward and stifling. Y/N clenched her jaw, her mind swirling with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t. She didn’t want to argue in front of Harper, but the frustration, the loneliness—it was all building inside her, begging to spill out.

And then it happened.

“So… how’s Odessa?” she asked, the words sharper than she intended, bitterness lacing her tone. She regretted it as soon as they left her lips, but the question hung in the air between them.

Drew’s brows furrowed, his hold on Harper tightening slightly. “What?”

Y/N crossed her arms defensively, her voice quieter now but still tense. “You two seem pretty close lately. The pictures... the rumors...”

Drew’s expression darkened, and he shifted Harper in his arms as she started to squirm. “Y/N, there’s nothing going on between me and Odessa. You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/N’s eyes flashed with hurt. “Because all I see is you spending more time with her than—”

“This again?” Drew interrupted, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re really going to bring this up every time I come here? You think I don’t miss you? Miss us?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the raw emotion in his voice catching her off guard. But she wasn’t ready to back down. “If you miss us so much, maybe you shouldn’t be cozying up to her in every photo.”

“I’m not cozying up to anyone,” Drew said, his voice rising slightly as he shifted Harper to his hip, trying to stay calm in front of their daughter. “I’m doing my job, Y/N. Odessa is a friend, and you know that. But you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “I made up my mind because you didn’t fight for us, Drew. You let us fall apart.”

Drew’s jaw clenched, his gaze softening as he saw the hurt written all over her face. “I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t. But you keep pushing me away.”

“Because I can’t compete with her!” Y/N cried, her voice breaking. “I can’t compete with everything your world demands. It was always the two of us, and now... now it feels like I’m on the outside.”

Harper, sensing the tension, began to fuss, and Drew immediately began soothing her, rocking her gently. His eyes never left Y/N’s, though, filled with frustration, pain, and something else—something deeper.

“You’re not on the outside,” Drew said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. You’re the mother of my daughter, and you’re the only one I want. Odessa... she’s just a friend. That’s it.”

Y/N stared at him, her defenses crumbling as the weight of his words settled in. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to believe him so badly. But the pain of the last few months had built walls around her heart, and it wasn’t easy to just let them down.

“I miss you,” Drew whispered, his voice raw. “I miss us. This… this isn’t what I want. We’re a family, Y/N. I can’t keep doing this if we’re not going to at least try.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching as she looked at him, holding their daughter in his arms—their little family that felt so fractured. “I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this, Drew. I don’t know how to trust that it’ll be different.”

Drew stepped closer, his free hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. She didn’t pull away. “We fix it by talking, by being honest. Not by pushing each other away. Please… let’s try. For Harper. For us.”

Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks as she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in them. Maybe they could try. Maybe they could find their way back to each other.

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, filled with hope and longing. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s try.”

Drew let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I love you, Y/N. That’s never changed.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, her heart finally beginning to mend.

And as Harper giggled between them, oblivious to the pain and healing happening around her, Y/N and Drew realized that maybe, just maybe, their family wasn’t broken after all.

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey fic #rafe outer banks #my husband #drew starkey x reader #rafe obx #drew starkey smut #obx

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kckt88 · 2 days

Text

A Heartbeat Between Us VIII

Summary:

As things start to improve between Y.N and Aemond, Alys reveals her true intentions, and as Y.N turns to Aegon for support the brothers come to blows.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Swearing, Idiocy, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Violence, Fighting,

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 7770

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond woke with a start, his arm stretching across the bed to where Y.N. should have been, but the space beside him was cold and empty.

A sinking feeling gripped him as he sat up, glancing around the room in confusion. Throwing on his discarded clothes from the night before, he hurried down the hallway to Jack’s room. The sight of the empty cot made his heart race, panic flooding his chest.

“Y.N.?” he called out, but there was no answer.

Aemond tried to remain calm, his fingers fumbling for his phone. He rang her, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and again, the same result. Frustration and fear mounted with each passing second.

He paced the living room, running through his contacts, ringing Helaena, Daeron, and even Aegon, asking if they had seen her or heard from her. The answer was always the same: no.

His chest tightened. Had she really left him? After last night? Aemond’s gaze darted around the penthouse, and he realized that her things were still there.

The suitcase she had packed in a fury the night before was still there, laying where it had fallen on the floor during their vigorous sex session.

Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. If she hadn’t left, where was she?

Just as he contemplated going out to search for her, the sound of the door opening made him freeze. Y.N. stepped inside, pushing Jack’s pram.

Aemond rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her without a second thought.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion as he unbuckled Jack from the pram and lifted him into his arms, holding him close. "I was worried."

Y.N. gave him a small, tired smile. "I went to the doctor," she said, her tone matter of fact. "Since we didn’t take any precautions last night, I needed to get the morning-after pill."

Aemond’s breath hitched. "Oh," he said softly, watching as Y.N. reached into her bag and pulled out a small box.

She read the instructions on the back, popped out the pill, and swallowed it with a glass of water.

"I also decided that I’m going to start taking the contraceptive pill," she added. "Just to be safe."

Aemond nodded slowly, his gaze following her movements. He put Jack down on his play mat, the soft jingling of toys filling the room. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“About last night-” he started, his voice hesitant. “-I don’t know what came over me. If I was too rough—if I hurt you—”

Y.N. shook her head, cutting him off. "Don’t apologize," she said softly. “I liked it.”

Her words stirred something inside him, but Aemond knew there was more to say, more to confront. He couldn’t keep avoiding it. Turning to face her fully, he took a deep breath.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice steady but serious. "About us."

Y.N. finished her water and leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest. She nodded, her expression unreadable. Aemond took a step closer.

“For a start,” he continued, “-There is no us. But don’t you think there should be?”

Y.N. hesitated for a moment, chewing her lip as she considered his words. "I guess things weren’t working out the way they were."

“No, they weren’t,” Aemond agreed. “But we already have a child. We live together, we have sex and we love each other Why can’t we explore a relationship? Properly.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with scepticism. "What about Alys?"

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, there’s nothing there with her. Not anymore. I know I shouldn’t have let her in, but I feel like I owe her-for the way things ended."

Y.N. narrowed her eyes, clearly still not convinced. "I don’t trust her, Aemond. Not one bit."

“I know you don’t like her,” he replied. “But I promise, it’s just business. There’s nothing else between us.”

Y.N. looked at him, her gaze searching his face for the truth. “Is this really what you want?” she asked quietly. “To be with me?”

Aemond stepped forward, his eye never leaving hers. “It is. I’ve been a fool to wait this long to ask you.”

She chuckled lightly, some of the tension easing between them. "Why did you wait?" she teased, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Aemond smirked, rolling his eye. "Fear, mostly. Fear that you didn’t feel the same way. Fear of ruining what we had."

Y.N. let out a soft laugh. “If you really mean it-I want you to ask me properly.”

Aemond’s smirk widened, and he crossed his arms. “So, regularly sticking you with my cock isn’t asking properly?”

She laughed again, shaking her head. "No, it’s not the same thing."

He let out a deep breath, taking her hand in his. “Y.N.,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Y.N. smiled, a bright, genuine smile that lit up her whole face. “Yes,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “I will be your girlfriend.”

Aemond grinned, his heart swelling with joy as he leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with more passion.

When they finally pulled apart, Y.N. excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Aemond standing there, his mind racing with relief and happiness.

Finally, she was his.

Aemond sat with Aegon and Daeron at their usual table in the club, the neon lights casting a soft glow over them.

The atmosphere was buzzing, and as they ordered their drinks, Daeron’s eyes zeroed in on the mark on Aemond's neck. He sniggered, pointing at it with a raised eyebrow.

"Who's responsible for that?" Daeron asked, barely hiding his smirk.

Aegon snorted, taking a sip of his beer. "Alys?"

Aemond glared at him. "Absolutely not. It was my girlfriend."

Aegon’s laugh echoed over the thumping music. “So, you finally grew some balls and asked Y.N. out?”

Aemond scowled at him but didn’t deny it, which only made Aegon laugh harder.

Daeron shook his head in amusement. “About time. By the way, did you ever find out where she went the other day? You were freaking out."

Aemond sighed, swirling his whiskey. "She went to the doctor. Got the morning-after pill."

Aegon rolled his eyes dramatically. "Seriously, do you have some kind of aversion to condoms or what?"

"My mind was on other things at the time,” Aemond muttered defensively, taking a long drink. “But she’s on the pill now.”

Daeron chuckled. “At least she’s taking responsibility.”

Aemond hummed in agreement before dropping a bombshell. “Alys stopped by the penthouse.”

Aegon nearly choked on his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You what? You let her in? Are you an idiot?”

Daeron looked equally stunned. “What were you thinking?”

“I-feel like I owe her,” Aemond admitted, though his voice lacked conviction.

“For what?” Aegon demanded.

Aemond leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly “-For cheating on her”

Aegon scoffed “The two of you were living completely separate lives before you dipped your wick in Y.N”

“Maybe I still feel like I owe her something for the way things ended”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Please. Alys was in the relationship for herself, and you know it.”

Aemond shook his head, staring into his glass. “Maybe toward the end, but at the beginning-”

Daeron cut him off. “Beginning, middle, or end—it’s irrelevant now. You don’t owe Alys a damn thing.”

Aegon raised his beer. “Here, here. Come on, brother. Drink up—we’re celebrating tonight!”

Aemond arched an eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”

Aegon grinned wide. “You finally getting the girl.”

Later that night, after far too many drinks, Aemond stumbled down the hallway to his penthouse.

His fingers fumbled with the key, and in his drunken state, he cursed under his breath.

"Who's moving this damned lock?" he groaned, leaning against the door for support.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Aemond went flying into the penthouse, landing ungracefully on the floor.

He blinked up at Y.N., who stood above him, arms crossed but an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Hello,” he slurred, sprawled on the floor.

Y.N. knelt down, a mix of amusement and concern on her face. “Did you have a good night?”

Aemond clumsily tried to get to his knees, swaying slightly. “I had a few beers,” he mumbled.

Y.N. quirked an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve had more than a few,” she remarked, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Aemond groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I’m bit tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Y.N. said, helping him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, and she all but dragged him towards the bedroom.

On the way, Aemond suddenly stopped, looking serious. “I have a girlfriend,” he said, as if making a grand declaration.

Y.N. stifled a laugh. “I’m sure your girlfriend will understand.”

Aemond looked up at her, his drunken expression deadly serious. “My girlfriend is my girlfriend, and she had a baby-my baby-”

“How nice,” Y.N. laughed, guiding him to the edge of the bed. She sat him down and began pulling off his shoes and socks.

As she worked, Aemond’s eye fluttered, his head lolling. “You smell nice,” he murmured, slurring slightly.

Y.N. laughed again, shaking her head as she took off his coat and removed his eyepatch. She was careful, knowing how vulnerable he felt without it.

Aemond squinted up at her. “Are you trying to get me naked?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

Y.N. rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to get you comfortable.”

Aemond’s hands found their way to her waist, his forehead resting against her stomach as he clung to her. “I love you,” he mumbled, his voice softer now. “I do. So much. Please don’t leave me.”

Her heart clenched at his words. “I’m not leaving. Now, come on—lie down and go to sleep.”

With her gentle urging, Aemond finally lay back against the pillows, his body relaxing almost instantly. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold, his breathing deep and steady.

Y.N. stood there for a moment, watching him sleep, her hand brushing through his hair. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile.

Aemond woke up the next morning face down, groaning at the pounding in his skull.

His mouth felt like sandpaper, and the faint light filtering through the curtains only worsened his throbbing headache.

He groaned and muttered to himself, "Never drinking again."

Slowly, he pushed himself up, feeling like every bone in his body ached from his night of excess. Shakily, he stood and stumbled toward the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his dishevelled reflection.

His hair was a mess, and the faint smell of stale alcohol clung to his skin. “Gods, I reek,” he muttered, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower.

The hot water didn’t do much to ease his hangover, but at least it helped him feel a little more human. After drying off, he threw on a clean shirt and sweatpants before heading to the kitchen, still rubbing his temples.

When he entered the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon hit him, making his stomach growl loudly. Y.N. stood at the stove, flipping over sausages and eggs, while a platter of crispy bacon sat on the counter.

“What's all this?” Aemond asked, his voice hoarse from last night.

Y.N. looked over her shoulder with a small smile. “Bacon, eggs, sausages—best hangover cure there is.”

Aemond could practically taste the food already, his stomach growling in anticipation. “You're a lifesaver.”

Before sitting down, he wandered into the living room to check on Jack. His son was on his playmat, gurgling happily and kicking his legs in the air.

Aemond’s heart softened instantly as he crouched down, brushing his hand over Jack’s soft hair. "Good morning, little man," he murmured.

Y.N.’s voice called from the kitchen. “Aemond, come sit down. Food’s ready.”

Reluctantly leaving Jack, Aemond joined her at the table and sat down. The plate in front of him was piled with food—golden eggs, perfectly crisp bacon, sausages cooked to perfection.

He didn’t waste time, diving in hungrily. Every bite seemed to ease the ache in his head a little more.

After finishing his breakfast, Y.N. handed him a glass of water and some painkillers. "Thought you might need these," she said with a teasing smile.

Aemond sighed in relief, taking the painkillers gratefully. “You’re a saint,” he muttered, washing them down.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laziness. Aemond spent most of it sprawled out on the sofa, watching Jack play nearby, occasionally dozing off.

At one point, he even found himself napping with Jack snuggled up against him on the couch, the baby’s soft breaths helping him relax despite his headache.

But his peaceful nap was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, startling him awake. Jack stirred but didn’t cry, and Aemond gently laid him back on the playmat before sitting up groggily.

Y.N. was already answering the door when two men entered, their arms laden with large boxes, making quite a racket as they brought them inside.

Y.N. signed for the delivery, thanking them before they left. She turned toward the boxes with a curious look, wiping her hands on a towel as she approached them.

"What’s all this?" Aemond asked, still feeling groggy as he watched her tear open the packaging.

“It’s a delivery from the museum,” Y.N. explained, pulling away the bubble wrap to reveal two statues inside, both looking worse for wear. The stone was chipped in several places, and the detail on their surfaces was faded and worn down.

Aemond stepped closer, peering at the statues. “Think you can fix them?”

Y.N. smiled confidently, her fingers running over the smooth, cold surface of one of the statues. “Absolutely. They’ve seen better days, but I’ve handled worse. I’ll have them looking good as new soon.”

Aemond nodded, impressed as always with her skill. He watched her work for a moment, feeling a surge of pride in her abilities. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

Y.N. looked up from the statue, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said quietly before turning back to her workbench.

For the next couple of months, Y.N. worked diligently on the two statues that had been delivered from the museum.

She had printed pictures of what the statues originally looked like and pinned them to the walls of her workspace for reference.

Each day was a careful, deliberate process—she spent hours gently cleaning the weathered stone, ensuring that every inch was properly prepped before moving on to repairs.

When the cleaning was complete, Y.N. mixed plaster to the perfect consistency, using it to patch up the chips and cracks that marred the statues.

She took her time, delicately applying the mixture before using a fine-grain sandpaper to smooth out any unevenness. Every touch required precision, and the smallest mistake could ruin weeks of progress.

After the repairs were done, she moved on to the final stages: painting and applying a special wax that not only enhanced the statues' details but also provided an extra layer of protection.

It was a painstakingly slow process, but Y.N. found it rewarding. Still, the work had taken longer than anticipated due to balancing her time between the restoration and caring for Jack.

Once the statues were fully restored, they were carefully boxed up in layers of protective material and sent back to the museum.

As much as Y.N. loved her work, she felt a sense of relief when the project was completed. She had poured so much energy into the restoration that, despite her passion, it left her feeling drained.

But knowing that she had done justice to the pieces, especially with Jack in tow, made the reward even sweeter.

One afternoon, feeling a little freer after finishing the statues, Y.N. decided to surprise Aemond at work.

She stopped by a local café to grab them some dinner and pushed Jack in his pram as she made her way to Targaryen Inc.

As she entered the sleek lobby, she was startled to hear someone call her name. She turned to see Jacaerys waving at her from across the room.

They hadn’t seen each other since the heated argument in the café months ago, and Y.N. hesitated for a moment before waving back.

Jace quickly crossed the room to meet her. "Hey," he said, a bit of uncertainty in his voice. "How have you been?"

Y.N. smiled, adjusting her grip on Jack's pram. "I've been fine. You?"

Jace glanced down at Jack, his expression softening. "Wow, he really looks like Aemond."

Y.N. smiled fondly at her son. "Yeah, he does."

After a beat, Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Look, I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you in the café. I was angry, and I lashed out. But I shouldn’t have said those things."

Y.N. took a deep breath, remembering how hurtful that encounter had been.

But seeing Jace now, visibly regretful, she nodded. "It’s okay. I probably should have told you from the start that Aemond was Jack’s father. I understand why you were upset."

Jace gave her a sad smile. "How are things with my uncle? My mother said you two are dating now."

Y.N. felt a warmth spread through her at the thought of Aemond. "They’re good. I know we did things a little backward—baby first, then the relationship—but we’re happy."

Jace nodded, but his smile was tinged with sadness. "I'm glad to hear that," he said quietly.

For a few moments, they stood there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

Then Jace cleared his throat and glanced at the time. "I should get going. I told my mother I'd only be five minutes."

Y.N. smiled. "Of course. It was nice seeing you, Jace."

He hesitated for a second, then quickly stepped forward and hugged her.

It was brief but sincere. "Take care, Y.N.," he said as he pulled away, rushing off before either of them could dwell on the moment.

Y.N. watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of relief and nostalgia. She took a deep breath, then turned back toward the lift.

Pressing the button, she smiled at Jack, ready to surprise Aemond with their impromptu visit.

Y.N. stepped out of the lift, pushing Jack's pram ahead of her, feeling a surge of excitement at the idea of surprising Aemond.

The office was quiet, and she noticed Aemond’s assistant wasn’t at her desk.

Smiling down at Jack, who gave her a gummy grin in response, she whispered, “Let’s surprise Daddy, shall we?”

She quietly pushed open the door to Aemond’s office, but the sight that greeted her made her stop in her tracks.

Alys was sitting close to Aemond on the leather sofa.

Aemond shot up from his seat the moment he saw Y.N. walk in, looking slightly startled.

"Y.N.," he said, with a forced smile, quickly crossing the room to kiss her head. "This is a nice surprise."

Y.N. fought the wave of anger surging through her but forced a smile. "I was taking a walk with Jack," she said, her voice tight, "and thought I’d bring you something for dinner since you've been working hard lately."

Aemond’s face softened. "That was thoughtful of you," he said, reaching into the pram to lift Jack out. He held his son close, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Daddy's missed you.”

Y.N. watched, her stomach churning as Alys rose gracefully from the sofa and walked over to stand beside Aemond.

"He’s gotten bigger-" Alys said with a sweet smile, looking at Jack. "Can I hold him?"

"No," Y.N. snapped, before she could stop herself. She quickly reached for Jack, putting him back into the pram and turning him away from Alys.

There was a tension in the air that no one could ignore as Alys stepped back, her smirk barely hidden.

Y.N. turned to Aemond, her voice sharp. "What is she doing here?"

Aemond leaned in close, whispering hurriedly, "I didn’t know she was coming. She just turned up."

Y.N. narrowed her eyes, her anger boiling over. "Then you should’ve thrown her old arse out."

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just helping her get established with her business. That’s all."

Y.N. scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The only business she’s after is in your pants."

"You're being ridiculous," Aemond muttered, trying to keep his voice low.

Y.N. caught a glimpse of Alys standing by the desk, the smug smirk on her face as if she were relishing the tension in the room.

That was it. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a second thought, Y.N. grabbed the bag of food she had brought for Aemond and threw it at him.

The containers hit his chest and fell to the floor, spilling sandwiches and chips across the carpet.

“Here,” she spat, her voice seething with anger. “I hope you both fucking choke”

Ignoring Aemond’s frantic calls of her name, she turned on her heel, pushing Jack’s pram out of the office as fast as she could, her heart pounding with fury.

Aemond stood in the middle of his office, wiping the food off his shirt with quick, agitated movements.

His eye flicked to the mess on the floor, the sandwiches and chips scattered across the carpet. Frustration gnawed at him, but before he could act on it, Alys approached, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Aemond—” she began, her tone soft, but he immediately snatched his arm away, his patience frayed.

"Don't," he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. He moved quickly to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, already making his way toward the door.

Alys’s voice followed him, laced with confusion—or perhaps something more manipulative. "Where are you going?"

"After Y.N.," Aemond responded, his tone clipped. "I need to talk to her. I need to explain."

"Explain what?" Alys asked, her voice turning smug. "We were only talking."

Aemond halted, turning to face her fully, his eye narrowing with irritation.

"What are you even doing here, Alys? The clients I recommended to you are more than capable of keeping you busy. You don’t need my help anymore."

Alys smirked, a dangerous glint in her eye. "You’re right. I don’t need your help," she admitted, stepping closer. "I never really did"

Aemond’s frustration shifted into suspicion. His voice turned demanding. "What do you want, Alys?"

She gave him a slow, calculated smile. "I want you."

Aemond froze, his gaze hardening. "What?"

"I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you," Alys said, her voice sultry, as she moved closer to him, her hands grazing his chest.

“I’m not interested” snapped Aemond.

"I remember when you used to be interested."

Aemond immediately removed her hands from him. "That was then," he said firmly, stepping back. "This is now."

Alys wasn’t deterred. She leaned in, trying to kiss him, but Aemond pushed her away, more forcefully this time.

"I just want it to be the way it was," she said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

"It will never be the way it was," Aemond said through clenched teeth, his temper rising. He couldn’t believe she had the nerve to push this after everything. "It’s over, Alys."

Still, Alys persisted. "We could be good together again, you know that. You felt it once—"

"Enough!" Aemond shouted, his voice booming with frustration. "Get it through your head—I don’t fucking want you. What we had is over." His words cut like a knife, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Alys’s face twisted in anger. "So, you're choosing Y.N over me?"

"Yes," Aemond said, his voice steady and final. "I choose her. I will always choose her. Because I love her"

There was no hesitation in his answer, and that seemed to anger Alys further. She glared at him, her face contorting with bitter jealousy.

"Fine," she said, grabbing her coat with sharp, angry movements. "But that’s too bad. We could’ve had something special."

Aemond scoffed, crossing his arms. "I already have something special with Y.N. and Jack."

Alys moved toward the door, her expression icy. Just before she left, she turned to him, her voice low and venomous. "Not anymore, you don’t."

With that, she slammed the door behind her, leaving Aemond standing alone in his office, her final words lingering like a dark cloud.

As Y.N rushed out of Targaryen Inc, her vision blurred by tears, she barely noticed the world around her. Each breath felt heavy with the weight of betrayal.

She had wanted to surprise Aemond with something thoughtful, but instead, she’d walked into a scene that made her stomach turn. Alys, sitting close to him—too close. Her heart ached, and all she wanted was to escape.

By the time she reached the penthouse, Y.N was shaking. She hastily left a note and packed a bag for herself and Jack, not entirely sure where she was going, but desperate to leave.

With Jack bundled up and strapped into his pram, she left the penthouse, wandering the city streets. She hopped onto a bus without thinking, letting the rhythmic rocking carry her away from her thoughts, until she stood before a familiar black door.

The sound of music leaked through the walls, and she hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell.

The music paused, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal Aegon, shirtless and slightly dishevelled, clearly caught off guard.

“Y.N.,” he said, surprised to see her standing there.

Behind him, a girl lounged lazily on the sofa, eyeing Y.N. with vague curiosity.

Embarrassed and feeling out of place, Y.N. tearfully apologized, backing away. "I’m sorry for disturbing you. I should go—"

Aegon quickly stepped forward, gently catching her arm. "Hey, wait—what’s wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he quickly pulled on a T-shirt.

"It doesn’t matter," Y.N. muttered, tears threatening to spill again.

"It does matter," Aegon insisted, his voice firm yet kind. He turned to the girl on the sofa, gesturing toward the door. “You need to leave.”

The girl huffed, gathering her clothes and glaring at Y.N. as she passed by.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Y.N. broke down, the sobs she had been holding back finally spilling out.

Aegon didn’t hesitate—he pulled her into a comforting hug, hushing her softly as she cried into his chest.

“What happened?” he asked gently, rubbing her back as she tried to calm down.

Y.N. took a shaky breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I went to surprise Aemond at work-and Alys was there.” Her voice broke, and Aegon cursed under his breath.

“That fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered, holding her tighter. He didn’t press her for more details, just let her cry it out until the storm of emotions passed.

“Can Jack and I stay here tonight?” Y.N. asked after a moment, her voice soft and uncertain. “I don’t want to go back. But he’ll come looking for me-”

Aegon quickly nodded. “Of course, you can stay. Don’t worry about him. If he comes round here, I’ll tell him you’re not here. And when Daeron gets home from work, I’ll make sure he keeps his mouth shut, too.”

Y.N. managed a small, grateful smile through her tears. “Thank you-and I’m sorry, again. I feel like I’m imposing.”

Aegon shook his head, giving her a comforting smile. “Stop apologizing. You’re not the one in the wrong—Aemond is. What the hell is he thinking?”

Just then, Jack’s soft cries filled the room, and Aegon released Y.N. so she could tend to him. She reached into the pram, but Aegon quickly offered to take the baby. “Here, let me.”

Y.N. handed Jack over, and Aegon rocked him gently, his touch surprisingly tender. “My brother needs to open his eye and see that harpy for who she really is,” Aegon muttered, rolling his eyes.

Y.N. let out a small laugh, despite herself. “You’re not wrong there.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I’m serious. I’ve never liked her, and you know if I don’t like a woman, that’s a red flag. I mean, I love the ladies.”

Y.N. laughed again, this time a little more genuinely. “I know. Especially the married ones.”

Aegon shrugged with a playful smirk. “Of course. But Alys-she’s different. In all honesty I never really liked looking directly at her.”

“She’s not Medusa” Y.N. said, shaking her head.

“She might as well be,” Aegon shot back with a mock shiver.

After a few more moments, Aegon smiled and said, “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll sort us something to eat.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

“I don’t,” Aegon admitted with a grin. “I’m ordering takeout. Will pizza be okay?”

Y.N. nodded, grateful to be here in this moment, with someone who had her back when she needed it most.

Y.N gently bathed Jack in Aegon’s bathroom, the warm water soothing her nerves as much as it did Jack’s.

He splashed playfully, his little hands reaching for her as she carefully washed him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.

After drying him off, she dressed him in his soft, blue pyjamas, his eyes beginning to droop as she cradled him in her arms. She fed him, rocking slowly, humming a quiet tune until his soft, rhythmic breathing told her he had drifted off to sleep.

She laid him in the middle of Aegon’s bed, arranging pillows around him carefully, making sure he was safe and comfortable.

The door remained slightly ajar, just enough for her to hear him in case he woke up. Stepping back into the living room, she felt a pang of guilt.

"I feel terrible for kicking you out of your own bed," Y.N. said, biting her lip.

Aegon waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry about it. I offered. Besides, I’m not exactly known for my chivalry—this is a rare moment for me, let’s not ruin it."

Y.N. chuckled weakly but appreciated the levity. She sank onto the couch, pulling out her phone.

Her breath hitched as she saw the screen flooded with notifications—30 missed calls from Aemond, and numerous text messages.

She scrolled through them, her heart twisting at the range of emotions. Messages declaring his undying love, apologizing profusely, followed by angry ones accusing her of taking Jack from him without any right.

The whirlwind of his emotions matched her own confusion.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Daeron asked, sitting down beside her.

Y.N. sighed, putting the phone down. "I don’t know. I really don’t. Part of me wants to talk to him, but after what happened today, I don’t even know where to start."

"You can stay here as long as you need," Daeron reassured her. "But-you know Aemond’s going to find out eventually that we’ve lied to him. And when he does, he won’t be happy."

Y.N. rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on her. "I’m sorry to drag you both into this. I just needed to get away, and I didn’t know where else to go."

Aegon scoffed, lounging on the other end of the couch. "Screw him. We’ve all tried telling him about that bitch, but noooo-Aemond thinks he knows better. Now look where we are."

Daeron, ever the peacemaker, leaned forward. "Not to defend Aemond too much, but maybe he thought he was helping Alys out of some twisted sense of guilt—like making up for cheating on her."

Aegon rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "The guy’s an idiot. He’s letting this mess get in the way of what really matters”

Y.N. suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood up "I’m going to bed," she murmured, offering them both a tired smile. "Goodnight."

“Night-” said Aegon and Daeron in unison.

Y.N. walked down the hallway, her heart heavy. She peeked into the bedroom, watching Jack sleep peacefully, oblivious to the storm swirling around them.

As she lay down beside him, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold everything together for just a little while longer.

The next morning, Y.N. woke early, fed Jack, and packed their things. As she stood by the door, she turned to Aegon and Daeron, offering a grateful smile.

"Thank you, both of you, for letting us stay over. But I think it’s time we head back to the penthouse. I’m going to take Jack for a walk in the park first, clear my head before I see Aemond."

Aegon, still lounging lazily in his chair, got up and walked over to her, pulling her into a hug. "You’re always welcome here, you know that" he said, giving her a wink. "But if you ever come back, I won’t give up my bed again. We’ll just have to share."

Daeron rolled his eyes. "Ignore him and regardless of what happens, we’ll still be there for you and Jack”

Y.N. gave a soft laugh and nodded. "Thanks again, really." She checked the straps in Jack’s pram and then wheeled it towards the door. "Goodbye, and take care."

As she left, the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Aegon and Daeron in the apartment.

Not long after, Daeron furrowed his brow and turned to Aegon. "Oh no, she forgot one of Jack’s toys."

Aegon picked up the small plush from the table, examining it.

"What the hell is this thing?" he muttered, turning the soft rabbit-like toy over in his hands. The ears crinkled when he squeezed them, making an odd sound.

"I don’t know," Daeron shrugged. "Right, I’ve gotta head to work. You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Aegon waved, still scrutinizing the toy as if it held the answers to life. "See you later."

Just as Daeron grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, it swung open again—this time revealing Aemond, standing in the doorway.

His eye narrowed when he saw Jack’s toy in Aegon’s hand.

Aegon tried to hide it behind his back, but it was too late.

"Where did you get that?" Aemond asked, his voice tight.

Aegon stuttered, "Well, you see—"

"Was Y.N. and Jack here?" Aemond cut him off, his tone dark.

Aegon sighed. "Yeah, they were, but they left a little while ago. She didn’t know where else to go."

Aemond's expression turned furious. "When I rang you last night and asked if you'd seen her, and you said no—was she here?"

Aegon swallowed, glancing at the floor. "Yes, she was here. She slept in my bed—"

That was all Aemond needed to hear. Without warning, he punched Aegon in the face.

Aegon stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor, clutching his nose as blood began to flow.

"Did you fuck her?" Aemond bellowed, his voice full of rage.

Aegon groaned, sitting up slowly, blood dripping between his fingers. "No! I stayed on the sofa, you fucking arsehole-"

Aemond began pacing around the apartment, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

Aegon stood up, wincing as he gingerly touched his nose. He grabbed a nearby towel, pressing it to his face.

"You have no right to be angry," Aegon spat. "You’re the one who’s been hanging around with your bitch of an ex."

Aemond stopped pacing, his face tightening. "I was just trying to make up for what I did. But it was a mistake—a massive one. Alys-she tried to kiss me."

Aegon’s expression hardened, and without a second thought, he punched Aemond in the mouth.

Aemond stumbled back, stunned, as blood began to trickle from his lip.

"You moron," Aegon growled. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Aemond wiped the blood from his mouth, still in shock from Aegon’s punch. "She tried to kiss me, and I pushed her away. I didn’t let it happen."

Aegon shook his head, disappointment clear on his face as he went to the freezer to grab some ice.

"You’re such an idiot. I’ve been telling you for years what she’s like"

Aemond stood there, blood staining his lips. "I know," he said quietly. "I know now that it was all a manipulation. She didn’t need my help with her business. She just—"

"—wanted to get back into your pants," Aegon finished for him. He shook his head, pressing the towel full of ice cubes against his bruised nose. "You only lost one eye, brother. How could you be so blind?"

Aemond’s shoulders slumped as he sat down heavily on the edge of the couch. "I’m an idiot ok" he admitted, voice hoarse. "I let her in when I should’ve known better."

"You’re damn right you’re an idiot," Aegon said with a bitter laugh. "You let that old bint back into your life when we all tried to warn you. And now, you’ve potentially lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you all because of your own stupidity."

Aemond closed his eye, running his hands through his hair again. He knew Aegon was right. And now, he didn’t know how to fix it.

As Aemond sat on the couch, staring down at the toy he had snatched from Aegon’s hand, a heavy silence settled between them.

Aegon, still pressing the towel full of ice to his swollen nose, finally broke the quiet.

"You know, I’m jealous of you," Aegon muttered, his voice low but steady.

Aemond frowned and looked up. "Jealous? Of me? Why?"

Aegon let out a tired chuckle. "Because of Y.N."

Aemond's expression darkened, and his jaw clenched. "What are you saying?"

Aegon raised his free hand, waving off his brother’s suspicions. "No-I’m not into her like that. It's the way she loves you, Aemond." He looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The way she looks at you-it’s something else. I’d give anything for a woman to look at me the way she looks at you. There’s this—" He struggled to find the right words, "—devotion in her eyes. And she brings out the best in you, even if you’re too blind to see it."

Aemond’s face softened slightly, and he allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips. "Maybe if you stopped chasing unavailable women, you'd find someone like that."

Aegon huffed a laugh. "Yeah, maybe. I was actually trying to get with someone last night, if you must know. But then Y.N. came over and interrupted." He shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement.

"And you helped her instead," Aemond remarked, his tone shifting to something more serious.

"Of course I did," Aegon said, looking at his brother with a surprising sincerity. "I like her—no, not in that way. But I wanted to make sure both her and Jack were safe”.

Aemond sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you, Aegon."

Aegon nodded, leaning back against the counter. "You’re welcome. But I don’t care what you have to do. You better make it up to her. She’s good for you, Aemond. You two belong together. Don’t be the fool who throws it all away."

Aemond stood, taking a deep breath. "You’re right. I need to fix this." He paused, glancing at the door.

"Yeah," Aegon replied, standing straighter. "She mentioned she was taking Jack for a walk in the park and then heading back to the penthouse”.

Aemond started towards the door, but Aegon called out to him. "Hey, one more thing."

Aemond stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Aegon smirked, his usual playful self returning. "You should ask her to marry you."

Aemond froze for a moment, considering the weight of Aegon’s words.

Slowly, he nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe I will."

Aegon grinned, his smirk widening into a mischievous grin. "Because then she’d definitely shag me."

Aemond took a deep breath before he charged at his brother. Aegon dodged out of the way, laughing loudly as Aemond began chasing him around the table.

"You little—!" Aemond shouted, but despite his frustration, there was a smile creeping onto his face as Aegon kept laughing, the tension between the brothers momentarily broken by their banter.

"Too slow!" Aegon called out, still running, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

For just a moment, the heaviness that had hung over them lifted, and despite the mess Aemond needed to fix, he felt a flicker of hope. He wasn’t going to let Y.N. slip away—no matter what it took.

Aemond wandered through the quiet streets, his mind racing. He desperately wanted to see Y.N. and Jack, to hold them both close and promise he would never let his stupidity come between them again.

But he knew he had to give her time—to get back to the penthouse, to settle Jack, and most of all, to calm down. As much as he wanted to rush to her side, he knew that right now, patience was key.

She was the love of his life, and the thought that he might have jeopardized everything made his chest tighten.

How had he let it get this far? It was easy to blame Alys, to paint her as the villain in his mind, but deep down, Aemond knew the truth—it was his own fault.

His misguided sense of duty, his foolish belief that he could make up for his past mistakes by helping her, had led him down this path. He should have left the past buried.

As soon as Alys had reached out, he should have told her to get lost. Instead, he had let her manipulate him, and now Y.N. and Jack were suffering the consequences.

He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he walked. Alys’s motives were clear from the beginning, and he cursed himself for not seeing them.

But the damage had been done. Now, all he could do was hope—pray, even—that Y.N. would give him the chance to make things right.

He loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone, and the thought of losing her, of losing their life together, sent a sharp pain through his chest.

As he rounded a corner, his steps slowed when he came to a stop in front of a jewellery shop. His eye caught on the glittering rings displayed in the window, and for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eye and imagine.

He pictured Y.N. in a beautiful wedding dress, walking towards him with that radiant smile she always wore when she looked at him. His hand reaching for hers as they exchanged vows, their kiss sealing their promises as they became husband and wife.

But was that future even possible now? Or had he ruined it beyond repair?

Aemond let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his silver hair. He had thought about proposing to her before, but now-was it even right to consider it?

Would she still want a life with him after everything that had happened? After the hurt he had caused?

He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing—he had to try. He couldn’t give up on them, not when he loved her with every fibre of his being.

Aemond stepped into the penthouse, his heart immediately dropping at the sight of a suitcase by the front door. Jack was fast asleep in his pram, his small chest rising and falling peacefully.

Aemond's gaze shifted from his son to Y.N., who sat on the sofa, nervously fiddling with her fingers, her face pale and her eyes distant.

His voice cracked as he asked, "Are you leaving me?"

Y.N. looked up at him, her expression torn. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I think it's for the best”.

The words pierced through him like a blade, and Aemond felt his knees weaken. In an instant, he was in front of her, kneeling on the floor with his head resting in her lap, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

"Please don’t leave me," he choked out, his voice thick with desperation. "I’m so sorry, Y.N. I thought I owed it to Alys, after everything that happened, but I was wrong. I see that now. I made a terrible mistake, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, please don’t go."

Y.N. hesitated, her hands trembling as she slowly stroked his hair. But then, gently, she removed him from her lap and stood up, forcing a shaky breath as she wiped her eyes.

"I need to think, Aemond. I need to figure out what’s best for me and for Jack."

Aemond rose to his feet, his desperation mounting as he cupped her face in his hands, peppering soft, frantic kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. "I love you," he whispered, again and again between kisses. "I love you more than anything. Please, just—just stay. Let’s work this out."

Y.N. closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against his for a moment as the pain of the situation overwhelmed her.

"I love you too, Aemond," she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. "But I need space. I need to think about what I really want”

Aemond’s breath hitched, but he nodded, knowing he couldn’t push her any further. He backed away slightly, his eye red and pained.

He turned to Jack, still peacefully sleeping in his pram, and pressed a tender kiss to his son’s forehead.

"Be good for your mummy," he whispered softly, brushing a finger over Jack’s tiny hand.

With that, Aemond walked to the door and held it open, his heart breaking with every passing second.

Y.N. pushed the pram through the door and glanced back at him one last time, her suitcase in hand, her eyes filled with sadness and uncertainty.

“Goodbye Aemond-”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Aemond collapsed against it, sliding down to the floor until he was sitting with his back against the wood.

His head fell into his hands as the weight of it all came crashing down. Silent sobs wracked his body.

He had lost them both—And it was his own fault.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut

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unabashegirl · 20 hours

Text

Fragments — one shot

Harry runs into Y/N in Japan. She is his ex and she is seeking closure.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well. Here is this week's one shot! I hope you enjoy it. LOTS OF ANGST! The second part will get posted tomorrow.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots and much more :)

Please note that everything that is both underlined and italicized is from the past—they are flashbacks!

word count 3.9K

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As the sun began its descent in the late afternoon sky, Shiba Park in Tokyo was bathed in a gentle, golden light. The cherry blossoms, just beginning to bloom, added a delicate touch of pink to the scene, signaling the early days of spring. The air was crisp but not cold, filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and fresh grass.

Harry Styles, hoping to escape the relentless pace of his life, walked through the park with a coffee in hand. Dressed casually, he blended in with the locals, his trademark curls tucked under a beanie and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The sounds of children playing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of the city created a peaceful backdrop.

As Harry roamed along the winding paths, taking in the serene beauty of the park, his attention was drawn to a familiar figure sitting on the grass. It was Y/N, his ex-girlfriend, enjoying a solitary picnic. A blanket was spread out before her, adorned with an assortment of snacks and a book lying open beside her. She seemed lost in her own world, her face relaxed and serene.

Two years had passed since their breakup, a period marked by unresolved tensions and painful memories. Seeing Y/N unexpectedly stirred a mix of emotions within Harry. He paused, torn between the urge to approach and the instinct to keep his distance. The years apart had softened some of the bitterness, but the wounds were still there, just beneath the surface.

Y/N, sensing someone's gaze, looked up and their eyes met. For a moment, time stood still. The park faded away, and all that existed was the shared history and unspoken words between them. Harry's heart raced, and he wondered if the universe was giving them a chance to get some closure or if it was sick joke.

Harry's breath hitched slightly as he stood there, unsure of what to do next. His mind raced with memories of their past together—the good times, the laughter, the fights, and ultimately, the heartbreak. He took a tentative step forward, then stopped. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed to be caught in a similar turmoil. Her eyes, which had initially shown surprise, softened as she looked at him, but there was also a hint of uncertainty.

The sounds of the park seemed to fade into the background as they continued to hold each other’s gaze. Finally, Harry took another step forward and then another until he was standing a few feet away from her. He hesitated, then managed a small, tentative smile.

“I thought Japan was my territory and off limits for you” he said, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

“Didn’t realize that we still had divided territories. Weren’t you in Italy a few weeks ago?” she replied, a playful tone in her voice, but her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. She shifted slightly on the blanket, making room as if inviting him to sit.

He took the invitation, lowering himself onto the grass beside her. For a few moments, they sat in silence, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and distant laughter from other park visitors. Harry took a sip of his coffee, searching for the right words.

"Point taken," he said with a knowing smile, aware that Italy held a special place in her heart. Perhaps that's why he found himself spending most of his free time there—chasing her and the memories they had once shared. Italy had become one of refuge, a place where he could feel closer to her, even if she was no longer by his side.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," he finally said, glancing at her.

"I didn’t expect to see you either," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips. "How have you been?"

He nodded, looking down at his coffee cup. "I've been... busy. Touring, recording, the usual. What about you?"

“Good. Nothing unusual” she said, her gaze drifting to the cherry blossoms. "Life's been quiet, but good.”

"How long are you staying?"

"A month."

"You finally took those vacations," he smiled warmly, fully aware of how much she had dreamed of this much-needed break. The thought of her taking time for herself brought a sense of relief—he had always wanted her to prioritize her well-being, even if their paths had diverged.

Y/N nodded, a grateful expression softening her features. "Yes, finally," she replied, a hint of exhaustion tinged with excitement in her voice. "I needed this more than I realized."

Harry looked at her, noticing the subtle signs of weariness that hinted at the weight she had been carrying. "I'm glad you're giving yourself this time," he said sincerely. "You deserve it."

As they sat on the grass, Y/N suddenly glanced at her watch and then back at Harry, her expression shifting. "I need to get going," she said softly, her voice tinged with reluctance.

Harry looked at her, concern etching his features. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I have stuff to do."

Harry felt a pang of disappointment but tried to hide it. "I get it," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “Let me walk you out?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure”.

They stood up together, brushing off their clothes. As they walked side by side through the park, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their path. The silence between them was comfortable, though charged with unspoken words and hidden feelings.

Y/N looked at him momentarily and she felt like she was in the dream. Like in one of the numerous dreams that she had when they had just broken up.

As they neared the exit, Harry felt a growing sense of urgency. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. The thought of not seeing her again gnawed at him, so he took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Y/N glanced at him, sensing the hesitation in his voice. "I’m not sure yet."

Harry's heart raced as he quickly blurted out, "I’m taking a course on making sushi in the afternoon, and in the evening, I was invited to an art exhibition. Would you like to come with me?"

He winced slightly, realizing how rushed and jumbled his words had sounded. But to his relief, Y/N seemed to understand him perfectly. She hesitated, clearly taken aback by the suddenness of the invitation. Her mind raced with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to decline, to remind herself of the pain that still lingered from their past. Yet another part of her, the part that still held onto the connection they once shared, was tempted to say yes.

She looked at him, trying to gauge his intentions. It wasn’t lost on her how much effort he was putting into this, how much he seemed to want to bridge the gap between them. But she also knew that accepting would mean opening old wounds, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

Deep down, she felt a strong need for closure. She deserved at least that from him—an explanation for everything that had happened in those last few months. The questions that had haunted her, the confusion that lingered, all demanded answers. And as much as she wanted to protect herself from further pain, she knew that without closure, she would never truly be able to move on.

She took a deep breath, her mind racing as she weighed her options. Harry’s invitation felt like an opportunity—a chance to finally confront the unresolved issues between them, to hear his side of the story, and maybe even to find some peace.

“Okay,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I’ll go”.

Harry’s eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and relief. “Really?”

She nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah”. she agreed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Harry nodded, his smile growing. “I’ll pick you up”.

“Sounds good” She gave him a small nod.

As Y/N walked away, a surprising sense of calm washed over her. She returned to the charming Airbnb she had rented, a place that had captivated her with its traditional decor and tranquil Japanese garden. This trip had been a rare indulgence—she never took vacations, so she had splurged on a stay that offered peace and serenity. Running into Harry had been the last thing she expected, a twist she hadn’t anticipated.

Once back, Y/N found herself reaching for the bottle of wine she had been saving for her last night in Japan. She poured herself a generous glass, savoring the rich aroma, and then slid open one of the doors that led to the garden. Sitting on the edge, she let her gaze drift over the carefully tended landscape, the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze soothing her nerves.

As she sipped her wine, memories flooded back—how it all began with Harry, how blissfully happy they had been during those first two years. The laughter, the shared dreams, the moments that had once made her heart soar.

Y/N rushed through the crowded streets, her phone cradle between her ear and shoulder as she fumbled with bags. She was late, as usual, and in the midst of her hurried pace, she decided to call her coworker to confirm a meeting time.

Without looking too closely, she scrolled through her contacts and dialed the number of her coworker. The phone rang twice before a voice answered on the other end.

“Hello?” a deep, distinctly British voice said.

“Hey, I’m running a bit late,” Y/N said not bothering with pleasantries. “But I’m almost there, so don’t leave without me, okay?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Um, I think you might have the wrong number, love,” the voice replied, amusement clear in the tone.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. That wasn’t her coworker’s voice. Realization hit her like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out, her face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I thought I was calling someone else!”

The man on the other end chuckled, a warm, easy sound that somehow made her feel even more flustered. “It’s not every day I get a call like this. I’m amused”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could disappear into thin air. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, feeling like a complete idiot. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Don’t hang up just yet” He assured her, his voice still light with humor. “I’m a bit curious now. Who were you trying to call?”

“My coworker,” she replied, still mortified. “We were supposed to meet for a presentation, and I’m runnin —”

Suddenly, the call cut off, the connection lost as she moved through a spotty area of service. She stared at her phone in disbelief, her face heating up with a mix of mortification and frustration.

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen, but she couldn’t bring herself to redial. It had been a mistake, after all. He probably didn’t think twice about it, she told herself, brushing off the encounter as nothing more than a fleeting moment of awkwardness.

Little did she know, the brief exchange would leave a lasting impression on him. The first track on his next album would be inspired by that stranger’s call, and it would become a hit record.

The next day, as they strolled through the bustling streets of Japan, Harry noticed the silence that had settled between them. The vibrant surroundings seemed to contrast with the quiet tension that hung in the air. He glanced over at Y/N, who was lost in thought, her expression distant.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Harry remarked gently, breaking the silence. His tone was soft, tinged with concern as he searched her face for any sign of what might be on her mind.

Y/N looked up, startled out of her thoughts. She offered him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Just taking it all in,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual too, as if she were trying to keep something at bay.

Harry nodded, but he could tell there was more to it. There was a weight in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a heaviness that seemed to grow with each step they took closer to the restaurant he had reserved for their private cooking lesson.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” Harry said, sensing the tension that lingered between them. He wanted to clear the air, to ease the unease that seemed to hang over them, but he knew that doing so would mean opening Pandora’s box—revealing a lot of things he wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

Harry’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want to make things more difficult, but the weight of unspoken questions pressed down on her, demanding to be acknowledged.

“Harry,” she began, her voice trembling slightly as she forced herself to continue, “what went wrong?”.

The question hung there, raw and exposed, cutting through the fragile peace they had tried to maintain. Harry’s steps faltered, his breath catching as he turned to face her, the streets of Japan fading into the background.

“Y/N…” he started, but his voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the right words. Or maybe he was afraid of them.

She looked into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, an apology, anything that could make sense of the pain that had consumed her in the months after their breakup. “We used to be happy until those last few months,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s chest tightened as memories of their past came rushing back. He could see it all so clearly—the late-night conversations that stretched into the early morning, the spontaneous trips, the way she used to look at him with so much love in her eyes. It was all there, and it hurt to think about how they had lost it.

Y/N stood outside the studio, her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned against the wall, trying to stay out of sight. She had only been dating Harry for a few weeks, and everything still felt so new, so fragile. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when she’d arrived at the studio, the sound of his voice singing had stopped her in her tracks.

She could hear him inside, his voice smooth and captivating as he worked through a melody with a small group of people. Y/N knew she should knock, let him know she was there, but something held her back. She was still shy around him, nervous about stepping into his world, a world she felt she was only just beginning to understand.

The music flowed through the walls, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She could hear the passion in Harry’s voice, the way he poured himself into every note. It was mesmerizing, and she found herself leaning closer to the door, not wanting to miss a single word.

She bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she listened. This was Harry in his element, doing what he loved, and she didn’t want to interrupt that. But as much as she loved hearing him sing, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place, like she was intruding on something private.

Just as she was about to quietly slip away, the door to the studio creaked open. One of the musicians stepped out, giving Y/N a polite nod as he passed by. She froze, hoping he hadn’t noticed her lingering there like some awkward fan. But as the door swung wider, Y/N realized with a jolt that Harry was looking directly at her.

He paused mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up with surprise and something else—something warmer. A smile spread across his face, and he excused himself from the group, his gaze never leaving hers as he stepped toward the doorway.

“Hey darlin’” Harry said softly, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and affection. “How long have you been out here?”

Y/N blushed, feeling caught. “Not long,” she lied, glancing down at her shoes. “I didn’t want to interrupt… You sounded amazing, by the way.”

Harry chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “You could’ve come in, you know. I don’t bite,” he teased, but his eyes were gentle, understanding her hesitation.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she admitted, still feeling a bit shy under his gaze.

“Come here. You can never distract me” Harry said, his tone sincere. He reached out, taking her into a tight hug. Harry pulled Y/N into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if he were trying to shield her from the world. She melted into him, her head resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Harry held her close, his hand gently stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. The tension she had felt earlier began to dissolve in the comfort of his embrace, replaced by a sense of peace that only he could bring her. He smelled like a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him, a scent that was both familiar and calming.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, his eyes soft with affection.

“You are staring” She murmured, her voice low and tender. Before she could add anything else, Harry leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to seal his words with reassurance.

The kiss was sweet, filled with a quiet promise that made Y/N’s heart flutter. When he pulled back, he gave her a soft smile, his eyes filled with warmth. Without letting go of her, Harry reached down and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. His grip was firm, yet gentle.

“You tell me,” Harry said, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the tension between them. “You were the one who left.” The bitterness in his tone was undeniable, the memory of that night still raw and vivid in his mind.

Y/N flinched at the harshness in his words, the pain of that night rushing back to her as well. “You still don’t get it? “How hard is to accept the fact that I left you because you didn’t deserve me?”. She shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “You shut me out. You pushed me away until I couldn’t take it”.

Harry’s jaw tightened, the frustration and hurt that had been simmering inside him now boiling over. “I didn’t know how to talk to you,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. “I still don’t know how to talk to you”.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her heart breaking all over again. “You made me feel like I wasn’t enough,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “Like I couldn’t do anything right, and that no matter how hard I tried, I was always going to lose you.”

Harry’s expression softened, the anger in his eyes giving way to regret. “It’s here” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as they arrived at the restaurant.

As they arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere feels almost serene, a stark contrast to the tension that still lingers between them. The restaurant is tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its traditional wooden façade illuminated by soft, warm lights. The sliding door opens as they approach, and they are greeted by the chef, a kind-looking man dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. His warm smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he bows slightly as he welcomes them.

"Welcome," the chef says in a gentle voice, his English tinged with a thick accent. "It is an honor to have you here today."

Harry returns the bow, his hand still lightly resting on Y/N’s back as they step inside. “Thank you for having us,” he replies, his tone respectful.

The chef guides them down a narrow hallway, leading them into a cozy kitchen space at the back of the restaurant. The kitchen is immaculate, with gleaming countertops and neatly arranged utensils. Fresh ingredients are laid out in beautiful wooden bowls, each one perfectly prepared for the lesson ahead. The smell of fresh fish, rice, and various seasonings fills the air, making Y/N’s stomach rumble slightly in anticipation.

The chef turns to them with another smile. “Today, we will be learning the art of sushi,” he says, gesturing to the ingredients. “Please, take an apron.”

Y/N reaches for one of the aprons hanging on a nearby hook, the fabric soft and clean in her hands. She fumbles slightly with the ties, her fingers a bit clumsy as she tries to secure it around her waist. Before she can figure it out, Harry steps forward, his hands gentle as he takes the ties from her.

“Here, let me help,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet warmth that makes her heart skip a beat.

Y/N turns slightly, allowing him to stand behind her. She feels the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck as he carefully ties the apron around her, his fingers brushing against her back in a way that sends shivers down her spine. There’s a tenderness in the way he handles the simple task, a care that speaks volumes, even without words.

“All set,” Harry murmurs, his voice close to her ear. He gives the ties a gentle tug to make sure they’re secure before stepping back, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips.

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, her heart fluttering at the look in his eyes. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice soft as she tries to ignore the way her emotions are threatening to bubble up to the surface.

The chef, oblivious to the silent exchange between them, claps his hands together, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. “Let us begin,” he says with enthusiasm. “I will show you how to prepare the rice, and then we will move on to cutting the fish.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to refocus her mind on the lesson ahead. But even as the chef begins to explain the process, she can’t shake the feeling of Harry’s hands on her, the lingering warmth of his touch a constant reminder of the connection that still exists between them, despite everything that has happened.

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littlelamy · 1 day

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the aftermath of the fight: s1!rafe x reader

the tension in the cameron estate was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to every corner of the house. the echoes of raised voices were still fresh in your ears as you made your way down the corridor toward rafe’s room. the fight between him and ward had been explosive—a storm of bitter accusations, angry words, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. both men had walked away from it bruised, emotionally and physically.

you’d hesitated for a moment, but the silence that followed the chaos made your decision for you. rafe was volatile after moments like this, and the thought of him alone in that headspace made your heart ache.

the door to his room was slightly ajar. you pushed it open softly, stepping inside. the sight before you was both heartbreaking and infuriating. rafe sat on the edge of his bed, fists clenched tight, knuckles white. his face, usually sharp and full of confidence, was clouded with something darker—anger and pain, mingled with exhaustion.

“hey,” you called softly, keeping your voice gentle. “you need anything?”

his head snapped up, eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and something softer, more vulnerable. “what the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, voice rough and raw.

you took a deep breath, swallowing the sting his words left. “i’m here to help, rafe. i heard what happened. you’re hurt.”

he scoffed, turning his head away, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “i don’t need your pity.”

ignoring his harshness, you crossed the room and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he flinched at your touch but didn’t pull away. “i’m not here to pity you,” you said softly. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you knelt in front of him, taking his hands into yours, carefully turning them over to inspect the bruises and cuts that marked his skin.

“shit,” he muttered, wincing as you gently touched one of the scrapes. “this is a mess.”

“i know,” you replied, your tone soothing despite the tension in the air. “but we’ll fix it. let me help.”

he stared at you for a long moment, the frustration in his gaze slowly softening into something like resignation. “why the hell do you put up with me?” he asked quietly, voice barely audible. “i’m a mess.”

you sighed, reaching for the antiseptic. “because i care about you, rafe. and you’re more than just the anger or the pain.”

he looked away, the faintest blush creeping up his neck, shame weighing heavy on his expression. “i just wanted to prove something to him,” he mumbled. “i wanted him to see i’m not just some...”

you waited, dabbing the cloth on one of his cuts. “not just some what?”

“not just some disappointment,” he finished, the words heavy in the quiet room.

you shook your head, continuing to clean his wounds. “you’re not a disappointment, rafe. you’re just... hurting. and that’s okay. it doesn’t make you any less.”

he let out a low groan, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. “i hate this,” he muttered. “i hate feeling so...so weak.”

you paused, looking at him with a firmness he needed to hear. “you’re not weak. it takes strength to admit you’re struggling. and more to let someone help you.”

his hands trembled slightly in yours, and you could see the cracks forming in the walls he always built so high. the vulnerability in him was raw and real, and it tugged at your heart.

“why are you always so damn good to me?” he muttered, half exasperated, half grateful. “i don’t deserve it.”

you finished bandaging the worst of the cuts, sitting back on your heels. “maybe you don’t think you deserve it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

he looked at you, eyes filled with something between frustration and relief. “you really mean that?”

you nodded, leaning up to pull him into a hug. his hesitation lasted only a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight, almost like he was scared to let go. the embrace was intense, charged with emotion—his anger, your care, and a shared understanding.

as you pulled back slightly, your gaze locked with his, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. the kiss that followed was slow at first, your lips barely brushing his. but then, it deepened, the softness giving way to something more passionate, more urgent. his hands found your face, holding you close as he poured everything into that kiss—his regret, his need, his longing for something more than what his life had been up to now.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment still lingering between you. rafe’s eyes were softer now, a little lighter, like the weight he carried had lessened, even if just a little.

“thank you,” he whispered, his voice quiet but sincere. “for being here... for putting up with me.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “i wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

for a moment, the world outside faded away. the fights, the pain, the weight of everything that had happened—it didn’t matter. in that small, quiet space, it was just the two of you, connected in a way that made the chaos of life feel a little more bearable.

#rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #obx #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafecore #rafe cameron obx

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anniebeemine · 3 days

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mild- s.r. x fem!reader

I lost the request to this one again, I'm actually the worst

warnings: secret relationship

As the team huddled around the conference room table, everyone was deep in thought, rifling through case files and poring over maps. It had been a long day—one of those grueling ones where every lead felt like a dead end. When Penelope suggested ordering food, there were no complaints. In fact, everyone perked up a little when she mentioned Taco Bell.

After the order arrived, the team took a much-needed break, spreading out wrappers, burritos, and taco boxes across the table. The smell of fast food filled the room, providing a brief but welcome distraction from the case. Spencer was seated across from you, rifling through a bag of tacos with a frown, searching for something.

You kept your head down, pretending to focus on your food, but your mind wasn’t on the burrito in front of you. It was on him. Spencer, your colleague, your boyfriend—your secret boyfriend. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the team to know, but with the stress of your jobs and the close-knit nature of the BAU, the two of you had decided to keep things quiet for a while. And honestly, it was kind of thrilling, sharing secret looks across the room, or brushing hands as you passed each other.

But moments like this? They were the hardest. When all you wanted to do was lean over and kiss him, but all you could do was sit a few feet away, acting like colleagues and nothing more.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a packet of mild sauce sitting by the edge of your tray. Your eyes flicked over to Spencer again, watching as he unwrapped his taco with meticulous care. You glanced down at the packet, reading the words printed on the little orange packet: “I Love You.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you picked it up. Without overthinking it, you slid the sauce packet across the table toward Spencer, nudging it gently so it would catch his attention.

Spencer looked up at you curiously, then down at the sauce packet. He blinked once, then twice, before the realization hit him. You saw his lips twitch into a smile—an expression so subtle that no one else would have noticed. But you knew him well enough to spot it, even in the briefest flicker of emotion.

He picked up the packet, turning it over in his hands as if he were examining some kind of artifact. Then, without a word, he tucked it into his pocket, his smile growing just a little bit wider.

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest as he met your gaze briefly, the unspoken words passing between you: I love you, too.

To anyone else, it was just a mild sauce packet. But to you and Spencer, it was a quiet affirmation of everything that had been building between you—the connection, the affection, the love that you both had chosen to keep secret, for now.

The rest of the team was oblivious, too caught up in their food and conversation to notice the silent exchange between the two of you. You picked up your burrito, taking a bite and smiling to yourself. In the midst of all the chaos, the stress, and the long hours, this little moment with Spencer was enough to make it all feel a little more bearable.

And in a few hours, when the case was done and the team dispersed, you knew that Spencer would find a way to slip away, to find you—and this time, he wouldn’t need a sauce packet to tell you how he felt.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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httpsdrewstarkey · 18 hours

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shadows of doubt || drew starkey

authors note: hi here’s a part two to jealously that several people requested :) flashbacks are in bold print

warnings: angst! mentions of odessa

synopsis: y/n struggles with the heartbreak of her relationship with drew, longing for the intimacy they once shared. As she reflects on their emotional disconnect, she realizes she deserves a love that values her, even if it means letting go.

Y/N laid in the hotel bed with a heavy weight pressing on her chest. The alcohol she had consumed earlier with Madelyn still pulsed through her veins, making her regret every sip. It made her thoughts spiral, the memories from a few months ago washing over her. Her throat began to tighten, and her vision started to blur, causing the frustration and anger to build as she replayed their last conversation and the way it ended. She rolled over, feeling defeated, and made her way to the bathroom hoping a shower would help ease her mind. She closed her eyes, letting the soft hum of the shower fill the silence as the warm water ran down her body, but the heat only intensified the memory of their last time together.

Her back was pressed against Drew’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as his arms wrapped around her. His warmth seeped into her skin, and though the heat from the water was comforting, it was the softness of his touch that had her heart racing.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. His voice was low, almost vulnerable as his hand traced a slow, soothing path up and down her arm.

“I missed you too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of her own longing heavy in her chest. His lips found her neck as he pressed his lips onto her damp skin. She could feel him smiling against her, the feeling making her pulse quicken.

“I missed you more,” he murmured, a smile evident in his voice as he continued to kiss her neck. Y/N couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her, the intimacy of his presence almost making her nervous at the closeness of their bodies.

His hands moved across her body, his fingertips brushing the skin of her stomach before moving to her sides as if he was trying to memorize her. She tilted her head, giving him more access to her neck, kissing up to the spot just beneath her ear, where he knew it would make her melt.

“How was Omar’s concert?” she asked, her voice soft, an attempt to ground herself in the moment, to focus on something other than the intoxicating closeness between them.

“It was great,” Drew replied between kisses, “I wanted you there with me, always want you with me.” His voice was low, filled with a sincerity that made her heart feel like it would burst. She let out a soft hum in response, a small smile on her lips. His hand rested lightly on her stomach for a moment, his thumb brushing small circles as his other hand moved to her waist, gripping her.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against his shoulder as his lips returned to her neck, more insistent this time, each kiss sending sparks across her skin. His fingertips tracing down her stomach, finding her clit.

She was snapped out of her thoughts, forcing herself to forget the way his hands felt all over her body, as though they were imprinted into her skin, leaving a lingering sensation that almost made her itch. She missed him—the way he could make her feel when they were alone, the warmth of his touch and the quiet connection they shared in private. But no matter how much she craved those moments, she couldn't shake the ache of wishing it could be something more. Every intimate moment was a bittersweet reminder of what they weren’t.

The memory hit her hard. It wasn’t just the words—they were sharp, yes—but the way he’d brushed off everything she was trying to say, as if her feelings didn’t even matter. She could still feel the sting, that lump in her throat, the tears burning as they fell because he wouldn’t even acknowledge what she was going through. He just stood there, denying it all, while she unraveled in front of him.

The night had started out so differently. They had just stepped out of the shower, steam lingering in the air as Drew wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. His warmth, the softness of his touch—it made everything feel right. They settled into their evening routine, light music drifting through the background of Drew’s apartment. It felt cozy, intimate, like they were in their own little bubble. But then, as she glanced over at his phone lying on the coffee table, a notification caught her eye, and her heart sank. Odessa.

She blinked, trying to push down the sudden rush of emotion, but the name stuck out like a warning sign. She could feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through her body, her muscles tensing as her mind raced. Her thoughts spiraled. Odessa had always been around, part of his life in ways that sometimes-made her feel small, unseen. She wasn’t the jealous type—or so she told herself—but seeing her name again, popping up so casually on Drew’s phone, stirred something in her she couldn’t ignore.

“Is Odessa flying in?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Drew looked up, surprise flickering across his face as he walked over to the couch, handing her a plate of food. “Yeah, I told you that the other day, baby.”

“Right.” She fought to keep her tone steady, but her stomach twisted. “But you didn’t mention she was staying here with you.”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that felt like a slap. “It’s not a big deal. She’s just a friend.”

“Just a friend,” she echoed, surprise giving way to rising anger. “So, you thought it wouldn’t matter to tell me? That I wouldn’t care?”

“Why would it matter? You’ve met her. She’s not a threat.”

“Not a threat?” The incredulity in her voice was sharp. “You’re so close with her. It feels like I’m competing for your attention while she gets all of you.”

Drew shook his head, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. “You’re making this a problem. Odessa’s visit doesn’t change anything between us.”

Her heart raced, frustration swelling. “You spend hours on the phone with her, laughing and sharing things you don’t even tell me. How can you not see why I’m upset?”

“Because you’re overreacting!” he yelled, the tension thickening in the air. His jaw tightened, and she was taken aback—he rarely raised his voice and it stirred something unsettling inside her.

“Overreacting?” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “I’m trying to explain how this makes me feel, and you just brush it off like it’s nothing. It’s like my feelings don’t matter to you.”

“You’re making it all about you!” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively. The air felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in. “This isn’t betrayal. You’re just looking for reasons to be upset.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so upset if you actually listened to me!” she exclaimed, tears welling despite her efforts to stay strong. “I just want to feel like I matter, Drew. But every time I try to talk to you, you act like I’m crazy for caring.”

He turned away, frustration boiling into silence as she felt the distance between them expanding. “You always do this, Y/N. You blow things out of proportion.”

“No, I’m not blowing anything out of proportion!” she cried, desperation creeping into her voice. “It hurts when you don’t share things with me. When I feel like I’m the last to know, it makes me feel small and unimportant.”

“Maybe you should focus on your own insecurities instead of blaming me for them,” he replied, the coldness creeping into his tone.

"I’m not blaming you!” Tears spilled over, burning against her skin. “I’m trying to tell you how your actions make me feel, and you refuse to acknowledge it!”

She was a mess, tears rolling down her face as they sat in silence, both frustrated with each other. She looked at him, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. A part of her debated breaking the silence, maybe even telling him he was right—that she was overreacting. But she couldn’t do it. She knew she deserved better. She loved the little bubble they shared, but she also knew that eventually, the world would see them together, and she couldn’t ignore how that felt.

Swallowing hard, she finally broke the silence, keeping her eyes locked on him, as she stood from the couch, “You can’t keep dismissing me like this, I won’t let you make me look like a fool.”

As Y/N made her way back to the bed, the silence of the room pressed in around her, she stared at the ceiling, her heart aching, her mind swirling with memories of him. She longed for the comfort of his presence, for the way they’d retreat into their own little bubble where the rest of the world didn’t matter. She wanted to hear his voice, feel his arms around her, and pretend everything was okay. The need was so intense, it felt like it might tear her apart.

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, her chest heaving with the weight of it all, the tears continuing to run down her face. But even through the tears, there was a new kind of strength taking root inside her, growing quietly beneath the sadness. She knew she was worth more. And she would wait—no matter how long it took—for the kind of love that made her feel whole, the kind of love that didn’t hurt.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey prompt #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine

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baelarys · 2 days

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Hi, first of all I would like to say that you are such an amazing writer. I love all your stories but I especially love Aemond’s little family you have built. Since you mentioned in pt.4 that you won’t stop until you die or we get tired (which we won’t 🤣) I was wondering if maybe pt.5 can be Aemond and reader having a day to themselves without the children and maybe reader reassuring Aemond she’s his and he doesn’t have to worry about anything. 🫶🏼 Thank you for your hard work!

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Aemond targaryen x reader

Word count: 2435

Warninig: smutt,bad words.

You shifted in the bed, reaching for Aemond's usual spot, seeking the warmth of his body next to yours. However, upon finding the empty space, you realized he was gone. You slid closer to his side, noticing that it still held some warmth, indicating he had not been gone for long.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, filling the room with a soft, warm light. As the brightness filled the space, you wrapped yourself more tightly in the sheets, covering your naked body to shield yourself from the light and the cold that seemed to come with the morning.

You had woken up with the hope of resuming what you had started the night before. It felt strange how much you had come to enjoy those moments of closeness with him—something unthinkable when your marriage had been arranged. But now, more often than not, you found yourself longing for those encounters. However, it seemed Aemond had other plans for that morning.

Determined not to let those thoughts distract you from your duties, you got up to begin the day. However, you couldn't ignore the latent heat in your body, built up since the moment you woke. You dressed carefully and headed to have breakfast with the children, whose energy and laughter managed to momentarily distract you from the desires that flooded your mind. After the meal, you withdrew to perform your daily prayers to the gods.

Later, you joined some ladies of the court, fulfilling the expectations of your role as a wife and mother, participating in conversations that ranged from the latest news of the realm to trivial rumors.

Finally, you decided to head to the training yard, knowing you would find him there. It was customary for him to spend the early hours of the morning practicing with the sword, and the thought of seeing him skillfully maneuver the weapon filled you with an almost inexplicable anticipation. There was something in the way he moved, in the strength of his hands as he wielded the heavy sword, that always stirred an intense, almost primal emotion within you.

Aemond muttered softly every time he missed a strike, and you found yourself smiling without realizing it. That frustration he displayed, far from being a weakness, fascinated you. Each time he failed, he returned with more determination, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the next move. There was a ferocity in him, an intensity that radiated from every pore of his skin, and that was what attracted you the most.

The strands of his silver hair stuck to his forehead. You bit your lip almost unconsciously as your thoughts wandered. It was impossible to deny the magnetism he held over you, especially in moments like this, when you saw him so focused, so completely in control of himself.

You decided not to interrupt him. You preferred to enjoy the view, the display of skill and power that always seemed to captivate you completely. There was something in the way Aemond handled his sword, how his body responded to the challenge of each strike, that evoked in you a mix of admiration and desire. You knew he did it with the same precision and determination with which he had handled you the night before.

Without waiting any longer, Aemond began to ascend the steps that separated you, moving with the same grace and determination with which he had wielded the sword moments before. When he was close enough, you didn't give him time to say anything. Following an impulse that had consumed you since you saw him training, you took his face in your hands and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his in a soft but needy kiss. You knew this wasn’t typical for either of you in public, but you couldn’t hold back.

The salty taste of his skin from the sweat mixed with the warmth of his breath. You felt his large hands settle on your waist with a firmness that sent a shiver through you. But in an instant, Aemond began to pull away, creating distance with a softness that surprised you. Though his grip was firm, it was not harsh; it was a silent warning. You knew well that he disliked showing affection in public. His reserved nature and sense of discipline compelled him to maintain appearances, especially in such visible places.

Aemond watched you intently, his brow slightly furrowed as he awaited a response that didn’t come. He seemed to realize that something distracted you, something beyond the simple formalities he tried to uphold in public. "Are you well?" he asked, his voice in that low, controlled tone he rarely abandoned, even when worried.

You didn’t respond with words, unable to tear your gaze away from him. Your mind was completely absorbed, tracing every line of his face, the firmness of his jaw, the steel-blue of his eye that had always captivated you. You simply nodded slowly, your fingers already intertwined with his almost without realizing it.

Without wasting any more time, you took his hand and guided him with a silent determination. You moved quickly through the halls of the Red Keep, leaving behind the bustle of the training yard and the curious glances of the few who might have noticed your brief exchange. The echo of your footsteps resonated against the stone walls as you advanced, your thoughts focused solely on reaching that intimate space you shared, away from prying eyes.

Aemond offered no resistance when you pushed him against the wall, surprisingly docile, allowing you to take control in that moment. His eyes, which always reflected an air of authority, were now filled with something different: a mix of intrigue and desire. The sound of the door closing behind you barely broke the silence before you pressed your lips against his again, this time with an urgency you had never felt before.

The kiss was deep, filled with need. You gently bit his lower lip, silently asking him for more, and he quickly responded. Aemond opened his mouth for you, and your tongues met, exploring each other with intensity. There was a voracity in the kiss that you both shared, a contained passion that, in that moment, seemed to overflow without either of you wanting to stop it.

Aemond’s hands found their way back to your waist, but this time, they did not remain a simple touch. His fingers began to move, tracing the contours of your body slowly and deliberately, rising and falling over your hips and back, caressing your skin with a mix of tenderness and strength. You felt his hands enveloping you, each touch igniting the fire that burned within you even more.

Aemond’s lips parted from yours but did not move far. Instead, they began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your chin to the hollow of your neck, leaving behind soft bites and wet kisses that made your skin burn under his touch. You could feel how each small mark he left on your body intensified the desire between you.

Your hands, already restless, began to quickly unbutton his vest, letting it fall to the floor. The only thing left between them now was the thin fabric of his white shirt, light and stuck to his skin from the sweat of training. Aemond didn't give you time to do more. With a firm and determined movement, he lifted you off the ground with ease, as if you weighed nothing. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and in that instant, you felt the almost unbearable rubbing of his sexes through the layers of clothing, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

He gently dropped you onto the bed, held by his strong hands that slid over your body with a mix of control and adoration. Aemond pulled back just enough to allow you space, his eyes taking in every detail of you as his hands made their way to the knots holding the front of your dress together. With a patience that seemed to belie the intensity of the moment, he began to untie the ties, one by one, letting the fabric slowly fall around you, revealing more skin as he went.

You quickly freed yourself of the dress, letting it fall to the side of the bed without caring about the mess it caused. Aemond watched you with a devouring intensity in his eyes, admiring every curve, every detail of your naked body. You felt his breathing quicken, and before you could say anything, he had already leaned over you, running his hands and lips over your skin as if he were marking a territory that he knew perfectly well but that still fascinated him.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured, his hot breath hitting the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine like an electric shock. His voice, low and heavy with desire, was the only answer you needed. Aemond's hands, firm but full of adoration, slid from your abdomen to your thighs, slowly separating them, giving you the feeling of vulnerability and absolute surrender.

His fingers found the heat between your legs, moving with expert precision. Two of them slid smoothly between your lips, soaking in your wetness with ease. Every touch further ignited the flame already burning in you, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your lips parted in a whisper, and his name escaped in a barely audible murmur: "Aemond..."

Your eyes closed, concentrating only on the sensations he gave you, as his fingers began to explore inside you, sinking deeper and deeper with each movement. The pace was slow, deliberate, almost torturous in its precision, and soon a soft gasp slipped from your lips, unable to contain your body's response to his touch.

"Mhmm...what's wrong, ābrazȳrys?" his voice caressed your ear with a tone of false innocence, as if he didn't know exactly the effect he was having on you. But his fingers, which continued to pump inside you with an increasing cadence, gave away the truth. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was loving every second of having you like this, vulnerable under his control.

The pace of his fingers was slow but deliberate, building the pleasure inside you steadily. Each movement seemed meticulously calculated to bring you over the edge, and the soft moans that escaped your lips were proof of his success. Aemond, ever aware of every small reaction, would bend his head to place kisses on your shoulder, his long, silky hair brushing against your skin, sending additional shivers throughout your body.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Aemond added a third finger, stretching you in a way that had you arching your back off the bed, seeking more than he was giving you. The feeling of fullness was almost overwhelming, but the pleasure that came with it made any discomfort quickly fade away. Your breathing quickened and his name escaped your lips again, this time as a desperate moan.

“Come on, ābrazȳrys,” he murmured with unexpected sweetness as his fingers continued to work inside you. “I know you can take it.” His tone, though soft, carried a charge of authority that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Aemond knew he had control over you, but he also knew how to guide you, how to raise the desire until you were completely surrendered to him.

Every movement of his fingers was precise, stretching and exploring every corner of your insides as the heat between your legs continued to build. The sensation was so intense that your mind began to cloud, consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t think of anything else, only the fire growing inside you and the waves of ecstasy that were about to break.

Your hips began to move involuntarily, following the rhythm he imposed, seeking more, begging for release. The desire continued to increase, and with each passing second, you felt closer to the peak.

Your hips moved in unison with the rhythm Aemond imposed, each movement of yours a reflection of the need that consumed you. You felt the pleasure rising through your body, bringing you closer to a breaking point, and just as you were about to come, Aemond pulled back, stopping at the last instant. A soft gasp, almost in protest, escaped your lips, but all it did was elicit a smile from him.

Your hips began to move involuntarily, following the rhythm he imposed, seeking more, begging for release. The desire continued to increase, and with each passing second, you felt closer to the peak.

Just when you were about to cum, Aemond pulled out his fingers now soaked in your milky fluids, a small gasp escaped your lips in reproach but that only made Aemond smile softly.

"What a horny little bitch" that inappropriate nickname bothered you but you were too overwhelmed to think of anything other than him penetrating you with his cock.

You could hear him unbutton his pants and take his big, throbbing cock in his hands, wetting the tip with the moisture escaping from your entrance. The small touch was enough to make a small moan escape from both of your mouths before Aemond entered you completely.

His thrusts were fast and deep, touching that precise spot that always brought you to the edge of everything. In a moment, he turned you upside down, your chest slapping against the sheets and your ass in the air.

It wasn't long before you felt the knot in your belly loosen and a long moan escape your lips. Aemond followed shortly after, spilling his warm seed inside you.

You settled down on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Aemond let himself fall on top of you, burying his face in your neck as you caressed his back and hair. You could feel him melting at your touch.

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rinachains · 2 days

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wc: 1.2k

contents: sukuna x gn!reader, established relationship, a bit of angst and fluff; modern!au (no curses), sukuna can't say sorry for his life, but both of you kind of suck at communicating lol

a/n: aghhh, this is the first drabble I'm posting on here, so bear with me :) reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

You knew from the start that a relationship with Sukuna wouldn't exactly be conventional. Being with someone like him didn't promise an easy, smooth ride, but you knew what you were getting into. And it wasn't like you were someone who was easy to handle either.

Sukuna and you were basically like two peas in a pod- you would snicker and roll your eyes at others, exchange brash comments, crude words spilling from your sly mouths. It made you giddy. He was anything but a prince charming - if anything, he was more of a villain. But ever since you were a child, you felt more drawn to the antagonists, believing them to have a certain charm that captivated you.

A match made in hell, your friends would jokingly say. The two of you weren’t particularly good people and perhaps that’s why you were so good for each other. After all, they do say that two negatives make a positive.

Your very first interaction consisted of you scowling at him and saying that he was ‘an embarrassing asshole trying to compensate for something he clearly lacks'. On that day - which you remembered more than well - you were in a café with your friend, and as you were on your way out, he bumped into both of you, causing your friend to spill her coffee on herself. Instead of apologizing, he just gave her a dirty look and started walking away before you stopped him and started berating him.

From that moment on, Sukuna was a goner. Of course, at first he was just irritated and annoyed by your audacity, but thoughts of you quickly consumed his mind afterwards, which in turn made him despise you even more. Only he didn't really hate you - the line between hatred and appreciation was thin for Sukuna, blending into a confusion of emotions that made it difficult for him. But Sukuna was not one to shy away from challenges, the longing for intensity was deeply rooted in his body.

Sukuna didn’t have a normal perception of love. To him, love was a nuisance and useless. But he found you interesting. There was an intensity to you that matched his own, that he could relish. You were unafraid to show yourself, indifferent towards the opinion of others, too headstrong for your own good. And you understood him, in a twisted way. And he was able to understand you. Maybe that was what he needed this whole time – an equal. Someone who didn’t hold back and wouldn’t try to make him hold back.

When you finally started going out, which was a silent procedure since you two didn’t use the words ‘dating’ or ‘going out’, there was a surprising harmony between you. Meaningful conversations formed easily, playful quips and taunting inbetween, keeping each other on your toes, and there were moments of silence that you basked in, not feeling the need to fill it with unneccesary words. It was comfortable; like the spring breeze, promising something new, something fresh, but still holding an air of familiarity, bringing in a sense of comfort. Until then, Sukuna had never believed that he would ever experience anything like this. Sometimes he thought you were just a figment of his imagination, a product of the loneliness that had clung to him all his life.

So when Sukuna first saw the tears in your eyes (the same ones he always unconsciously looked for, no matter where you were), standing out so brilliantly against your glassy eyes that he felt like he was going blind, and had to resist the urge to turn his own away from them, he also felt overwhelmed for the first time. It didn't help that those tears were forming because of him, a reaction to his words leaving his mouth. It was a thoughtless remark on his part, said out of a moment of disdain, which wasn't necessarily anything new, but this time it obviously hit something deep inside you, and Sukuna knew he’d screwed up. Badly.

He never thought twice about something he said, especially when it was something harsh, simply disregarding the consequences of his hurtful words. So why did he suddenly have this heavy feeling forming in his chest, making it hard to breathe? This bitter taste in his mouth?

Sukuna remained silent, his face unreadable and blank like a sketch where the artist had not drawn a face but only the outline of a head. As he stared at you, your cheeks flushed blotchy and you tried to swallow the embarrassment creeping up your throat, blinking a few times to clear the wetness in your eyes.

You didn't want to be weak in front of him – that’s not who you were. You always prided yourself on not showing weakness in front of others, but at the end of the day, you were only human. What if he left you, now that you got this emotional? What if he decided you were too weak, too big of a nuisance to be with? You destroyed the perception he had of you, you were sure of that.

Silence hung over you like a heavy blanket, trapping you both and making it hard to move. What exactly were you waiting for? For him to apologize? Words like ‘sorry’ never rolled smoothly over your tongue, your own pride and discomfort holding you back. So how could you expect that from him? You didn’t truly know what you wanted. Perhaps reassurance? A sign that he didn’t think any less of you now? That he didn’t mean what he said?

After a few seconds (which felt like minutes, even hours) had passed, you cleared your throat, eyes flickering to the the clock hanging on the wall behind him. You were running late for work.

“I have to go now”, you managed to breathe out, voice slightly scratchy from holding down your emotions.

“Right.”

There was no goodbye following your departure. Sukuna was left with an empty feeling in his chest, his hand reaching out to grab at it. He hated it.

By the time you got home around 8pm, exhaustion was present in your bones, your body weak and head foggy. Being away for a few hours helped you calm down and get a clearer head, although the embarrassment still seemed to cling to you. Should you just pretend nothing happened? Ignore him? Be cold towards him? You didn't really want to talk about it, you were too tired from the day, from everything.

But as you hung up your coat, with conflicting thoughts running through your heavy head, a smell you knew only too well reached your nose and caught your attention: it was your favorite food. Sukuna has cooked it for you a few times before; each time he has grumbled about how long it takes to make and that some of the ingredients are crazy expensive - he never said it was too difficult for him though, he can make any dish, in his eyes there is no complicated one.

The special thing was that you never had to tell him out loud that it was your favorite dish, he just guessed it from your reaction every time you ate it. The moment you smelled his cooking and heard the clink of dishes being placed on the table where you shared every meal, you knew immediately - that was his way of apologizing.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #angst #fluff #modern au #ryomen sukuna x reader #drabble #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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artificialfanfiction · 1 day

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NOAH SEBASTIAN AS A BOYFRIEND HEADCANON-PART 2

boyfriend!Noah is fiercely loyal. Once he’s committed to a relationship, he's all in, and you can always count on him to have your back, whether it’s in a public situation or something more personal. If anyone disrespects you, his protective instincts kick in, though he handles it in a calm, calculated way he won’t cause a scene, but he’ll definitely make sure no one messes with you again.

Given his artistic mind, boyfriend!Noah likes unconventional dates. Expect random, late night drives while he plays unreleased tracks, stargazing from secluded spots, or spontaneous visits to obscure art galleries. He’s the type to suggest things like making music together, painting, or collaborating on any creative projects, even if you don’t consider yourself artistic. He loves sharing his passions with you.

He’s the type to dive deep into conversations late at night. boyfriend!Noah enjoys discussing existential topics, like the meaning of life, dreams, and personal growth. He’d want to understand what makes you You, your thoughts, fears, and goals. He listens intently and is genuinely interested in your perspective, making you feel incredibly seen and understood.

boyfriend!Noah feels things deeply, and that includes the way he loves. His emotions might not always be right on the surface, but when he opens up, it’s raw and powerful. You’ll know when he’s expressing his true feelings because it’s not something he gives easily. But when he does, it feels intense, like he’s giving you a piece of his soul.

Even though boyfriend!Noah has a dark, brooding exterior at times, he’s an anchor in difficult times. He doesn’t shy away from your problems or emotions; instead, he’ll help you work through them, often offering thoughtful advice or just a calm, stable presence to help you feel more grounded. He understands emotional lows and knows how to sit with you through them, without rushing you to "feel better."

boyfriend!Noah deeply values silence and comfortable moments together where words aren't necessary. Sitting beside him while he works on music or being in the same room while you each do your own thing feels intimate to him. He enjoys the simple act of being in your presence, even when you're not actively engaging in conversation.

boyfriend!Noah is all about pushing boundaries artistically and personally, and he encourages you to do the same. He believes in growth and doesn’t want you to stay stagnant, always motivating you to pursue your dreams and expand your horizons. Whether it’s learning something new or stepping out of your comfort zone, he’s your biggest cheerleader.

boyfriend!Noah has a dry, witty sense of humor, and he’ll tease you lightly just to see you blush or roll your eyes. He enjoys playful banter and sarcasm, but it’s always good natured and affectionate. He loves the back and forth that keeps the relationship fun and lively.

Music is a massive part of his life, so you can expect boyfriend!Noah to create personal playlists for you. These playlists would include songs that remind him of you or that capture a specific mood or memory you’ve shared together. He might send them to you unexpectedly, with little to no explanation, but the thought behind it is deeply intentional. It's his way of telling you how he feels without using words.

boyfriend!Noah might struggle to express his feelings directly at times, especially when it comes to his more vulnerable emotions. Instead, he often uses his art as a medium for that expression. You’ll notice that he writes about his emotions in his lyrics, or he might show you a piece of art that represents how he feels. This is how you’ll know you’ve become an important part of his life when he shares these intimate aspects of himself.

While boyfriend!Noah is a private person who enjoys his own company, if he lets you into his personal space, that’s a huge sign of trust. His home is his sanctuary, filled with his music equipment, art, and things that inspire him. If he invites you over often, it means he’s comfortable with you being part of his creative and personal bubble. He loves having you around when he's writing or working on music.

boyfriend!Noah gifts aren’t flashy or extravagant, but they’re deeply thoughtful. He’ll remember the smallest details about something you mentioned in passing and surprise you with it later. It might be a vinyl record of a band you casually said you liked, or a book he thinks you’d enjoy based on a conversation you had months ago. His gifts show that he listens closely and pays attention to who you are.

boyfriend!Noah has a deep appreciation for films, especially those with dark, complex storylines. He enjoys watching films that make you think or feel deeply. Expect him to plan movie marathons with a curated selection of his favorite indie or psychological films. Afterward, he’ll want to discuss the symbolism, the meaning behind certain scenes, and what you both took away from it. These movie nights are a combination of fun and philosophical.

boyfriend!Noah doesn’t raise his voice or get angry quickly. He’s thoughtful and patient when dealing with any conflict that arises. If there’s a disagreement, he’ll want to talk it out calmly, preferring to understand both sides rather than rush into a heated argument. He values communication and will take time to ensure both of you feel heard, even if it takes a while to get to the resolution.

boyfriend!Noah appreciates moments of silence in a relationship. He doesn’t feel the need to fill every moment with conversation. Sometimes just sitting beside each other, with him working on music while you’re reading or doing your own thing, feels comforting. These quiet moments are his way of saying he’s comfortable with you, that just having you around brings him peace.

When you’re not together, boyfriend!Noah texts are often brief but thoughtful. He’ll send quick messages like “thinking of you” or random updates throughout his day, even if he’s busy. But whenever you need him, he’ll drop everything to have a longer conversation. He’s not the most talkative through texts, but he makes sure you know you’re on his mind.

Despite his serious, brooding exterior, boyfriend!Noah has a playful, goofy side that only those closest to him see. He’ll make silly faces to get you to laugh or crack dark, sarcastic jokes that only you can appreciate. These moments are rare but make you feel special, knowing that he’s comfortable enough with you to let his guard down completely and just be himself.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian #x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #fanfic #noah sebastian fic #noahsebastian #oneshot #noah bad omens #bad omens imagine #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens x reader #bad omens cult #bad omens smut

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sturnprime · 1 day

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BREAK AND FIX, chris sturniolo 🩵

from h ꨄ︎ ⎯ hi so first time writing anything like this very very nervy

i hope you enjoy 🩵 (join the taglist here)

rain pattered against the panes of the window, a sombre reflection of the current mood that filled the atmosphere. the room portrayed an almost movie like scene with mounts of tissues scattered across the floor and a tub of ice cream haphazardly tossed beside the bed.

it had been a month and you thought it was supposed to get better, thought that the aching sensation in your chest was supposed to disappear with time but it only seemed to be getting worse. books you read fed you this dream of getting over everything easily yet you sat snuggled under your covers, eyes with red rims and nose tinted with hints of painstaking rose that uncovered your mask of emotions.

the worst part was you didn’t think any of this was affecting chris as much as it was affecting you. your mind began questioning a bunch of things; whether or not he still loved you, if his current emotions were as pathetic as yours, if he was even sorry for ending things so abruptly. none of it made sense from the way things had been so perfect one second only to entirely crumble the next all the way down to that irritating voice in the back of your head that kept telling you, you should have somehow done more to make him stay or not desire to leave.

loud ringing from your phone that was resting on your pillow pulled you out of the trance you had unwillingly slipped into, your eyes widening slightly at the suddenness and even more so at the contact name that was displayed across the screen.

your fingers danced across the surface hesitantly, silently contemplating in your head whether or not answering the call was worth it. you wanted to be strong and pretend you could simply allow it to ring until it didn’t but there was a sort of gravitational pull that made your fingers have a mind of their own. you swiped to answer the call, met with a beat of silence that had you regretting everything within seconds before a heavy sigh was heard on the other end.

“i miss you so much, y’know that? can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” his words sliced through the air and your heart like a freshly sharpened knife, crimson painting your insides in a manner so harmful, you suddenly felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

what hurt more than anything was the slight slurring of his voice that told you he was drunk. surely the saying went that drunk words were sober thoughts but it felt like clutching onto air when you searched for genuineness within his actions.

for a moment you were paralysed, unable to speak or even move as you processed what he said but eventually your words found their way out and you prayed they didn’t showcase your distress towards everything, “you’re drunk chris.”

“baby it doesn’t matter,” his words were laced with a hint of desperation and for a fleeting moment it felt like he was about to apologise for one of your pointless arguments but the moment was gone as quick as you blinked and the reality of the situation doused over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“chris i’m not… look just hang up and we can pretend this never happened okay? you don’t know what you’re saying right now,” each word that left you sounded foreign to your own ears, your voice lacking the excitement it used to hold when you spoke to him and in its place there was a semblance of melancholy.

there was shuffling on the other end and you could faintly hear the sound of his brothers somewhere else in the house. the toggles in your mind turned because you had assumed chris was at some sort of party but now that you thought about it, the only noise from the other end was his speech. there was no music or obnoxious chatter, just him and the now gentle sound of his breathing. it almost made you cave, almost made the barriers you had built up come crashing down.

but you had to be strong because of course you could give in but who was to say you wouldn’t end up in the same place all over again, internally pleading for a different outcome. so you ignored the craving inside of you to allow his words to drape over you like a comforting blanket, instead mumbling out a small goodbye and ending the call before waiting for his response.

the hammering inside of your chest didn’t disappear when the phone call ended, it increased and you could feel your anxiety bubbling up to the surface. the only solution you deemed possible was to sleep it out, to fall into a land of dreams where the world and the problems you were facing didn’t seem nearly as daunting.

with a reluctant sigh, you placed your phone on your bedside table as well as your glasses and got more comfortable under your sheets, pressing your eyes shut and hoping sleep greeted you as a dear friend there to take away your worries.

apparently the universe was on your side and you felt your eyes slipping closed within a few minutes and before you knew it, black filled your vision insinuating you had fallen asleep. your mind rested as you slept, the concerns that were plaguing your head before now long gone and unable to reenter the gates of your blockage.

the crepuscular rays of the sun awoke you from your much needed sleep and you groggily rubbed your eyes as you sat up in bed. with a few minutes of required mental preparation for the day, you clicked your phone on and paused when you saw the notifications. hesitance flooded your veins but no doubt this would be about the night before so you pulled it together and tapped on the notification.

chris

I’m sorry I was so fucking drunk I didn’t even know I called you last night

Can we talk?

you

talk about what?

i get it you were drunk shit happens

chris

That’s not what I mean

I mean properly talk

you

what could you possibly have to say to me

chris

So fucking much you have no idea

Please just let me come over and if you want after that I swear you’ll never see or hear from me again

One chance

you

fine

chris

Thank you

Seriously.

I’ll come over in an hour?

you

okay

what the fuck had you just agreed to? you felt dizzy with the thought of seeing him after a month but you would be lying if you said there wasn’t a little part of you that was the good kind of nervous. you and chris were no longer together but the effect he had on you had not vanished into thin air the moment he left. it may have been pathetic but even the mere sound of his name still had you fighting butterflies that threatened to let loose in your stomach.

for the next hour as you got ready for the day and had a little breakfast, you felt lightheaded. the seconds seemed to turn into minutes and before you knew it, your doorbell was ringing. it was almost comical how once upon a time chris would have stormed into your house like it was his own and announced he was home but now the ringing echoed in your ears. it was a stark contrast to what you had grown accustomed to and you felt nauseous at the unfamiliarity.

with a sickly feeling consuming you, your feet made their own way to the front door as you opened it, met with the sight of chris with his hair even more disheveled than it usually was. to others it would appear normal but you knew chris better than most and the odd angles his hair was sticking up in was a telltale sign he was nervous. it was a little comforting, the fact that you were both on the same page with your emotions for a second or so.

you moved to the side to allow him access into the house, an usual silence settling amongst you. the two of you walked into the living room wordlessly and then you slumped onto the couch.

chris cleared his throat and your eyes moved up to meet his. the different shades of his blue and your hazel flickered in recognition as you swore his breath hitched in his throat.

“i’m sorry… let me explain please,” and the pleading in his tone made you give in instantly.

yes you were weak but how could you not be when this was the boy you had fallen in love with? when this was the boy who had been there for you time and time again when you felt as though you deserved no one? you may have been weak but he made you so.

when you didn’t respond, chris took it as his opportunity to keep going, “i don’t know what i was thinking… you have to believe me when i say i fucked up. i never wanted to end it, i just got in my head and i made a mistake. a big fucking mistake please you have to understand… give me a chance.”

his pleading words were the only sound filling the air and it took everything inside of you to not console him. you had to remind yourself he was only hurt because he put himself in such a position, put the two of you in such a position. but the way his eyes were flickering with utter dread had your thoughts stilling until all you could focus on was him.

his hand moved to reach for yours and you should have pulled away instantly but his fingers felt like coming home after endless time away. your hand slot with his like two puzzle pieces and all you wanted was to be complete again. his thumbs swiped across your skin and you felt the flush before it came, felt the desire in your heart to stay in this vulnerable spot for eternity.

“chris how am i supposed to believe you? what happens when i give you a chance and this all comes back to bite me in the back? i can’t do it again, especially when i haven’t gotten over it the first time,” the words you spoke were a mere fragment of what you truly were feeling but any more thoughts lingered on your tongue until the taste became sour and bitter.

“i swear it won’t be like that. this time apart has shown me that i can’t do it without you. i love you, i love you even when i break you and it’s killing me. i want to fix things,” his voice cracked ever so slightly that you almost missed it but you knew him so incredibly well that you picked up on it instantly.

that torn up response made you want to glue him together. yes he broke your heart but your heart also belonged to him, used to beat to the melody of the both of you and you were not quite sure you wanted to stop listening to the harmonies just yet.

“i love you,” he repeated and you loved him too, despite the cracks he placed within your heart because once upon a time he had healed a heart he had never even broken.

“i love you too…” and it was not a lie, never had been since the first time you said it and he looked over the moon.

his eyes lighting up reminded you of the first time, of simpler times and it made you remember all the good moments you shared — ones you did not ever want to forget and craved to expand.

his body seemed to have moved closer, the gap between the two of you on the couch almost non existent but still it felt like lifetimes could slip between you. yet when he reached his free hand to cup your face, air couldn’t slip through even if it tried.

“can i kiss you? please,” he practically whispered and you nodded your head, silently accepting what this would lead to and even though it scared you beyond belief, chris still had a way of making you want to overcome every last fear you held as long as he was alongside you.

he didn’t waste even a second to connect your lips and the surge of electricity that shot through you was a feeling you came to realise you missed so fucking bad. he was practically on top of you as the kiss deepened and when he pushed you so you were laying on the soft cushion, you let him. his body hovered over yours and tongues collided in a rushed manner, a greeting between lovers who so desperately needed to reconcile.

his eyes held a concoction of hunger, affection and gratitude and you wanted to drink it all in. his hands moved to your top and with a silent word of agreement between you, he took it off and carelessly discarded it somewhere unknown.

he looked at you like he was seeing it all for the first time, like you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen and loved and it resulted in your heart soaring.

he pressed open mouthed kisses onto your collarbone and he spoke between each of them breathlessly, “god missed you so much… you’ve no idea… fuck.”

his lips trailed lower and lower, down your chest and to your abdomen and you fought the urge to squirm beneath him when they grazed the waistband of your skirt. it was as though you forget how to speak when he pushed the material down your legs and scrambled around to move it away from you.

“fuckin’ missed this pussy,” he muttered and you gasped when he kissed over the top of your underwear. he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sound but deep down he too was trying not to drive himself crazy at the small contact.

“chris…” it was barely there but he heard it and it just made him want more, made him slide the only piece of clothing standing in his way off until his pupils dilated in utter lust.

“tell me you want it,” he all but asked and from the rasp in his voice, how could you not?

“please… i want it,” you let yourself go and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a slight smirk before his lips latched onto the exact spot where you needed him.

it was immediate, the way your hands grabbed onto his hair and tried to pull him even closer. the erotic noises in the air were driving you wild combined with the feeling of his tongue lapping against you. it felt so fucking good and you knew he knew it just as well because he wasn’t coming up for breaks.

he was eating you out like a starving man whilst his hands tightly gripped the sides of your thighs, “taste so fuckin’ good angel.”

you moaned involuntarily and his tongue moved faster in response, a reminder of exactly who was making you feel good. you tugged on his hair when he sucked on a particular spot and he whimpered, the vibrations against you getting you closer and closer to the edge.

“please,” your body moved to meet his mouth more and his nails dug into your side.

“please what?” he asked you, lips barely leaving their spot as the words escaped him and you whimpered at the sensations consuming you.

“god ‘m so close,” you managed to whine out and he took it as his cue to suck harder until you were nothing but a withering mess.

he loved the control he had over you, loved the way your body flailed underneath him yet you obviously didn’t want him to stop. you moaned his name like it was a mantra and he wanted to play the words on repeat for the rest of his life. god he missed the sound of your begging and whining more than he thought. he was honestly obsessed with every part of you and he couldn’t even bring himself to think of what a fool he’d been for ever attempting to rid himself of that.

“yeah? you gonna cum for me baby?” his words were all you needed and he loved that he still had that effect on you.

your hold on his hair tightened as your body let go, a blissful feeling taking over as he raised his head, his chin covered in remnants that only seemed to turn you on more.

“i love you,” he said it yet again almost like he was solidifying his emotions and for a moment it remained in the atmosphere because it only felt right to allow it to do so.

your fingers trailed to his sweatpants and he grinned widely as you flipped him over so you were now resting above him instead. “i love you too,” you replied and he leaned up to kiss you simply because he could; it was deep and passionate and telling of everything he’d been feeling for the past month or so.

you removed his articles of clothing one by one and he allowed you to wordlessly, an admirable smile on his face and adoration painting his eyes. this was exactly what he needed and he knew you needed it too from your desperate gaze that raked over his now naked body.

“come on angel be quick about it,” he groaned as your fingers teased him and you smirked, a sight he wanted to capture in his head as if it were a mental picture.

“shh, we’re doing this my way.”

TAGS @mattslolita @eyeliketoeatpoosay @chrissturniolossidehoe @middlepartmatt @raysmayhem-72 @conspiracy-ash @fratbrochrisgf @pvssychicken !

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