#I hope I’m not the only one bothered by this!

[starmapz]

what you know - ch7: yuletide || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 11.2k.

❦ a/n ; happy holidays to those who celebrate! this was originally intended to be a little bonus chapter but as you can see, it kinda got away from me LOL. so i hope you enjoy <3

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

“Kunaaaaaaaa!”

Walking back from Choso’s friend’s house, Sukuna inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here, quit yelling, brat.”

“You’re not listening though!” Yuji pouts, tugging at his arm until he kneels down.

And god, Sukuna’s head pounds the moment he’s lowered himself down to his little brother’s height. His mind is practically screaming at him, begging him to lay down in the dark and sleep just a little bit longer.

With a sigh, Sukuna rubs at his temple. “What, Yu?”

“Cho’s friend said they’re having a big, big Christmas dinner with turkey and stuffing and veggies and- and- potatoes, and they have a big tree and decorations and they have family traveling to see them-”

Sukuna lowers his hand from his head slowly, eyes narrowed in an attempt to fend off the effects of his hangover following his night of drinking, partying, and chicken fingers as he listens to Yuji go on about the holidays.

Christmas.

Aside from saving a bit of extra money to get gifts, Sukuna hasn’t exactly had the luxury of stopping to think much about it. He supposes he could have, and probably should have focused on that yesterday rather than going to Gojo’s party, but he needed a night to himself more than ever before with the lawsuit weighing down heavily on his shoulders.

He’s not thrilled that in his drunken stupor he dragged you into the fray of his issues with his step-mother, if Sukuna even dared grace her with such a name, but somehow it doesn’t seem quite as dire with you on his side.

“Seeeeeeee!” Yuji groans, catching Sukuna lost in thought. “You’re not listeningggg!”

His jaw tightens. “I’m listening,” he grumbles, gritting his teeth as he drags his palm over his face.

He casts a glance at Choso, who’s blankly staring at the exchange between his older and younger brothers, and Sukuna wonders if the twelve-year-old is worrying about him right now. He wonders if this is one of those moments that his own kid brother is contemplating his well-being.

With a pang in his heart, he grimaces and gives Yuji his full attention. “You wanna have a big Christmas?”

Yuji nods eagerly. Swallowing hard, Sukuna prays he can provide that and not dull the light behind his eyes. The reality is that no matter what he does, there won’t be a big extended family, or a turkey, or even a big tree. The most he can manage is a small tree, a couple of friends, and some decorations from the dollar store.

Yuji isn’t old enough to remember the holidays with their dad, and his mom was gone so soon after he was born that Sukuna doubts he remembers her at all, let alone a holiday with her. Choso surely remembers both, though during their first holiday as just the three of them, Sukuna destroyed the illusion of holiday merriment and the joys of waking up on Christmas morning to gifts from Santa.

It wasn’t on purpose, but he had no clue what he was doing. He wasn’t in a good place mentally, nor did he have the money for much more than a hoodie Choso had wanted. The closest thing they’d had to a Christmas that year was Uraume surprising them by coming over and cooking dinner. Since then, it’s become tradition. Uraume never expects a gift in return for cooking a full Christmas dinner and even leaving the leftovers, but Sukuna makes an effort regardless to return the favor.

With a huff, Sukuna stands at his full height, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he gives in to his little brother’s request. That’s how he finds himself pushing a cart through the dollar store with his brothers in tow and a mean hangover that seems to have no intention of relenting anytime soon as the sterile white lighting beats down on him.

“What about these?” Choso holds up a stack of Christmas plates and napkins.

With a glance at the price, Sukuna mutters a ‘sure’, only because nodding makes his head absolutely ache.

Leaning over the cart, Sukuna watches Choso grab reasonable items, while Yuji shovels anything and everything he can into the cart.

“No,” Sukuna mutters each time a plush, massive wreath, or Christmas themed cookies make their way into the cart.

“Kuna, can we pleeeaaase at least get these?” He begs, holding up a pair of light-up antlers. He clicks a button on the ears, causing the lights to flash.

“No, Yu. Put ‘em back.”

Yuji pouts, staring down at them in his hands as he fiddles with the fabric of the ears. The little boy glances back up at Sukuna with wide, glassy eyes and sure enough, his resolve crumbles.

“Fine. Grab a pair for Cho, too.”

Yuji parades around the cart with a series of ‘yay’s and ‘thank you’s, and even Choso’s eyes light up as Sukuna leans further over the cart until the wheels are squeaking in an effort to support his weight.

The aisle is a blur of pink hair as Yuji bounces around the decorations, lips pursing into a big ‘o’ as he points at a small Christmas tree with lights strung around it. With a yawn, Sukuna mildly watches as Choso tries to talk the pink-haired child down from the tree that’s on the more expensive side for the dollar store, but even his eyes go wide with wonder as Sukuna reaches over them and sets it in the cart.

Remember when everything at the dollar store used to actually cost a dollar? Sukuna certainly does.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sukuna sighs, leading the way towards the exit as Yuji talks his ear off about how he wants to watch Christmas movies. As he goes on about how he’s never seen Home Alone, Sukuna watches the cashier scan their items, his brow furrowing as he sees Choso pull a Santa hat out from the pile in the cart. “No,” he scolds, holding his hand out to his brother expectantly.

Usually the reasonable of the two kids, Sukuna simply raises a brow when Choso continues his motions, placing a second Santa hat on the counter. The poor employee has paused with an uncertain expression, taking note of the debate going on between the two siblings.

“Choso,” Sukuna growls, holding his hand out more expectantly.

The boy grabs a third Santa hat, placing it on the counter as well.

“Choso,” Sukuna hisses, reaching forward to grab the hats off the counter but the little boy snatches them away first.

“Please, Kuna.”

“No. Antlers or hats, not both.”

Yuji grabs his brother’s hand in solidarity, pouting up at Sukuna.

“No, brat. That won’t work twice.” Losing patience, Sukuna pulls out his card, silently threatening to pay and leave if they don’t choose.

“Kuna, please. I won’t ask for anything else,” Choso pleads.

He falters, his thumb running over the chip on his card as he shoots the dark-haired Itadori a glance from his peripherals. Why the hell does he want these hats so bad? He’s not sure he understands, but the extra few dollars won’t kill him, and if he’s being honest, there’s another reason behind his sudden leniency with the two kids.

There’s a small nagging thought in the back of his mind that this might be his last holiday with the brothers. It’s not something he wants to consider, not when he thinks his guardianship for the last three years over the two of them should count for something in court, but he can’t deny the feeling of unease that has him giving in to another request.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, using his spare hand to massage between his brows in an effort to dull his headache. “Fine.”

Yuji cheers happily as all three hats flop onto the counter. The cashier shoots an uncertain glance at Sukuna, who scowls down at the hats at the realization that there’s three of them, which means one’s for him, but he keeps his mouth shut as they scan the last of the items.

With a tap of his card, he tucks it back into his wallet, handing each of his brothers some small, lighter bags, while he grabs the tree.

The walk back to the apartment is grueling between the excited ramblings of Yuji, the overcast sun assaulting Sukuna’s hungover senses and the melting snow that’s giving way to a particularly icy sidewalk. How convenient.

Finally reaching their apartment, Sukuna lobs the tree down on the ground and unceremoniously tosses himself over the couch. At his height, his legs dangle over the edge of the couch, but it’s such a relief to lay down that it feels comfier than ever. He drapes his arm over his eyes to shield himself from the natural light flooding in through the windows as his brothers take it upon themselves to decorate the apartment.

He must have drifted off, because the feeling of Yuji tugging on his hoodie jolts him awake very suddenly. Dazed, he drags his hands over his face harshly before cracking his eyes open. His headache has dulled enough that he can function without the sharp pain of a pounding head, but he could definitely have used some more sleep.

“Will Rume be here this year?” Yuji asks as he tugs at Sukuna’s hood.

“Christ, brat, you’re gonna choke me,” Sukuna gruffs, pulling the collar of his hoodie back down. “Yeah, they’ll be here,” he confirms, carding a hand through his hair. Much like Sukuna, Yuji hasn’t quite gotten Uraume’s name down, but they’ve never seemed to mind.

Yuji bounds off with tinsel in-hand, tossing the glittery strands of foil over a kitchen chair. With a yawn, Sukuna sits up and takes a look around. “Oh, fuck me,” he mutters under his breath as he realizes that the apartment is no longer just overrun with beaded lizards, but there’s now tinsel strung up on every surface that the two boys could reach. The apartment practically looks like a craft store threw up in it.

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares at the absolute fire hazard that the stove is looking like right now and he sighs, pushing himself to his feet to get his laptop. The two kids go barreling past him in a fit of laughter, nearly bowling him over if he weren’t so steady on his feet.

“Hey. Hey! No tinsel on the stove, you two know better!” Sukuna barks. They don’t even cast him so much as a glance, but Sukuna can’t be bothered to deal with the issue himself right now. Flopping down on his bed, he leans against his headboard and opens his email.

He scarcely remembers letting you know he got home last night as you’d requested, having passed out shortly after sending the email, but he’s somewhat surprised to find that the timestamp from your email is from late last night as well. You must have stayed awake until he emailed to make sure he was safe. Something stirs in his stomach at the thought, but he quickly pushes it aside.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:42 AM

Good to hear, Kuna! Get some sleep, thanks for the ice cream!! :)

He lets out a breath of relief at seeing you type his nickname, thanking any god that will listen that you aren’t upset with him anymore. Especially with how much he’d fumbled his shitty apology, completely ill-prepared and inebriated. Even sober, he doesn’t think he would have been prepared, but drunk and high? It’s a miracle he pulled it off at all.

“Kuna?”

Sukuna peers over his laptop to the doorway, his usual disinterested stare falling on a head of messy pink hair. He doesn’t respond, but Yuji knows he has his brother’s attention as crimson eyes look over his hopeful expression.

“The stove is clean.”

“Good.”

“Sorry,” Yuji fiddles guiltily with the hem of his Sonic the Hedgehog shirt. 

Sukuna hums in acknowledgement.

Yuji continues to fiddle with his shirt before hopefully asking if Sukuna is inviting you to Christmas dinner. His eyes are wide and full of optimism as he takes a step towards Sukuna.

“She’s probably spendin’ Christmas with her family,” he replies mildly, reaching up to scratch his jaw.

“But we do dinner on Christmas Eve anyway,” he points out, a tradition started to make sure they could include Uraume.

Sukuna sighs, clicking on the reply button to your email as he mutters out a “fine.” Yuji jogs over to him and leaps up onto Sukuna’s bed, crawling to his side to watch as he types out an email to you. Sukuna huffs, grimacing at his little brother before typing out a message to you.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 1:08 PM

got christmas plans?

“That’s it?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong with that?” He grumbles, the full pain of his headache beginning to return at the judgment from the five-year-old.

“Ask her to come over!” Yuji insists.

Frowning, Sukuna playfully shoves Yuji’s face away from his screen. “Go finish decorating with your brother,” he huffs, watching the giggly kid hop off the bed with a bright expression. “If, and I mean if she’s free, I’ll ask. Got it?”

Yuji nods, running towards the door excitedly before pausing. “Oh! Can we also invite-”

Sukuna sighs as he begins rattling off a couple of Choso’s friends, as well as his own from Kindergarten.

He’s definitely in over his head this year.

–

With one final piece of tape, you secure a red ribbon over a small green box, setting it alongside two bigger, more slender boxes. One for Sukuna, and one for each of the boys.

Piling the gifts into a bag, you set them at the door and finish getting ready.

Your holiday plans had gone very quickly from a video call with your family and a cozy movie night alone with your laptop to a brunch with Suguru’s family, a dinner with Satoru’s, and dinner with Sukuna and the boys. Of course you appreciate Satoru and Suguru for making an effort to include you, but there’s something deeper to the idea of having Christmas dinner with Sukuna that you can’t deny.

Over the past week, you had helped pick up the kids from school a couple of times, so Sukuna had presented this as a way of ‘paying you back’, but your conversations with his little brothers had you thinking there was more to this than just paying you back. Yuji talked non-stop about Christmas movies and a big dinner and how he was beyond excited for the big day. Sukuna seemed tired at the mere concept, but Yuji was adamant that you had to be a part of it, and there’s no world where you’re willing to let down the sweet little boy.

Picking the kids up from school had also given you the opportunity to scheme with Choso about Sukuna’s gift and you’re pretty sure you nailed it.

With a final once-over of your outfit, you nod to yourself in the mirror. A cute red wool Christmas sweater hangs over your frame decorated in stitches that form the shape of reindeer and snowflakes, with a pair of black leggings adorning your legs. You make your way to the door and pull on a pair of knee-high heeled boots to complete the look, pleased with the cute and festive outfit.

When you arrive at Sukuna’s door with some fresh-baked Christmas cookies (those cute Snowman ones from Pillsbury that are to die for), and the gifts for all three brothers tucked into a bag hanging around your arm, you hit the button for their intercom and wait for a response. After a few rings, the buzzer seems to die and the door doesn’t budge. Blinking a few times, you pull out your phone to check you have the right date and time.

December 24th, 3:00 PM.

With a furrowed brow, you juggle the cookies and gifts to hit the buzzer again. Maybe they just didn’t hear it. It rings once, twice, three, four times, and you’re sure it’s about to die when static sounds over the speaker and excited screams can be heard. Not unusual, but it sounds much more chaotic than usual.

“Hello?” Choso’s voice finally sounds in the brisk afternoon winter air.

“Hey Cho, it’s me!”

He doesn’t reply, but the door buzzes as it unlocks for you to make your way up. Before you can knock, Choso pulls the door open for you with a toothy smile, his cheeks rosy.

“Hey, Cho!” You grin and take your boots off as he closes the door behind you and adjusts his absolutely adorable reindeer antlers with sparkling red and green LEDs.

You’ve hardly taken a step into the apartment when the madness of the apartment hits you, quite literally.

Yuji barrels into your leg in a hug, matching antlers to Choso’s adorning his head as he giggles and grins at you. “Merry Christmas!” He cheers, tugging you further into the apartment as you set down your gifts and cookies at the door.

Tinsel is spread across every surface below waist-level, which makes you think the boys did most of the decorating, while a small tree sits on the floor near the TV, lit with sparkling red and green lights. Garland is spread across light fixtures and the warm glow of colorful fairy lights illuminates the dining room. You hadn’t taken Sukuna as the type to decorate to the nines, but it’s heartwarming to see just how much cheer and spirit is spread throughout the otherwise fairly dark apartment.

The real shock as you’re pulled into the living space, is the sheer amount of people all crammed into the living room. Mostly kids between Yuji and Choso’s ages, and one other person who seems to be around the same age as you with snowy white hair, while Sukuna sits on the floor. Displeasure twists his every feature as his youngest brother runs back up to him and a girl around his age with short brown hair. The little boy takes a string of red garland from the girl, clambering over the tattooed man as he strings it up around his broad shoulders. A couple of boys chuckle at the sight of Sukuna decorated like a Christmas tree from where they sit playing MarioKart.

Sukuna grinds his teeth, his jaw clenched as he just barely manages to tolerate his little brother’s antics. You giggle at the sight, pulling out your phone to snap a photo of the sweet interaction, catching Sukuna’s attention finally.

“Don’t,” he hisses at you, fists clenching at his sides.

Biting your lip to conceal your smile, you hold your phone up to him, snapping a photo just in time before Sukuna’s pushing off the ground suddenly. The action of his chest and shoulders rising pulls the garland taut before it splits under the tension, falling from his frame to the dismay of the kids.

Holding your phone tight to your chest, you gasp playfully at the realization that Sukuna’s darting towards you, intent on deleting the photo. You duck quickly away from him, unable to hide your smile as you slide into the dining room where Choso and a couple of friends seem to be playing with Pokemon cards.

“Delete it,” Sukuna growls as he closes the distance between you in a few short strides. An unceremonious squeak parts your lips as he catches up to you and slips a strong arm around your middle, using his other hand to reach for your phone and hold it up to you. You push against him, but he’s not budging even an inch. The feeling of his chiseled abs pressing against your back is dizzying, and you almost forget why he has you tucked into his warmth, until he hisses out another “delete it, brat.”

“It’s so cute!” You protest, wriggling against him in an attempt to slip from his grasp.

Sukuna falters for a split second, swallowing hard as your endeavors to escape from him has your ass brushing against him just right and he prays you don’t feel his body involuntarily reacting to you as his cock twitches in his jeans. Blinking, he scrambles to think about something unpleasant to counteract the thoughts beginning to race through his mind. You twist in his grasp, and he’s reminded of what he’s doing in the first place, pulled back to the present. “It’s not fucking cute. Delete it.”

“It’ll be a good memory for Yuji and Choso!” You insist, putting your full weight against Sukuna’s arm that has you caged against him. He doesn’t move a muscle, not needing to so much as tense to keep you up, he’s just that strong.

His brow furrows as he considers your words, finally huffing as he releases you. With your full weight being supported by him just seconds ago, you barely manage to catch yourself before you go tumbling to the floor, grinning triumphantly when you find your footing.

“If that sees the light of day, I ain’t joining you for lunch anymore,” Sukuna grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Standing up straight once more, you tilt your head innocently up at him. “It won’t,” you promise, tucking your phone into a pocket on the side of your leggings.

With a frown, Sukuna rounds the couch and takes a seat beside his friend with white hair cut into a bob. You follow after him, plopping down on his other side. He states your name, casting a glance between you and them. “This is Uraume,” he tells you.

Your eyes light up with recognition, grinning as you wave politely.

They return your wave with a kind smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” they comment with a knowing look to Sukuna that he shoots down with a scornful frown. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” You grin, happy to finally be able to meet one of Sukuna’s friends. He’s slowly allowing you further into his little world, giving you a piece of him that very few get to see. Though, looking back at the door where your bag of gifts resides, it occurs to you that you had no idea there would be seven kids and three adults here, and you haven’t brought nearly enough for everyone. “Had I known you would be here, I would have brought you something for the holidays,” you comment sheepishly.

“Did Yuji not tell you?” Sukuna arches a brow questioningly as he leans back into the couch.

You shake your head. “No, was he supposed to?” You cast a glance at the little boy wrapping the torn garland around his friend, the two giggling up a storm.

Sukuna sighs. “I figured he would have, the kid wouldn’t shut up about today and Uraume’s been a part of our holidays for a few years now.”

“It’s fine, anyway!” They pipe in, shaking their head. “I don’t need a gift and I certainly wasn’t expecting one.”

“And don’t worry about the kids. They’re all headin’ out for their own dinners soon, but Yu wanted a big Christmas this year, so…” Sukuna trails off, his gaze flitting between both brothers. You know what’s going through his mind, you can see the hollow distance resurfacing in his eyes as his mind grapples with the idea of this being their last Christmas together.

But you aren’t about to let him give up without a fight, so you snap him back to the present with a prod to his shoulder. “So, what are you cooking?”

“I’m not,” Sukuna replies, casting a glance at Uraume, who explains that every year their gift to Sukuna and the boys is a full Christmas dinner, though they replace the turkey with chicken given that they’re in college and that’s one pricey bird.

The afternoon carries on with excited laughter from the kids while you and Uraume learn about one another, while also poking fun at Sukuna, who’s relatively quiet as usual. The kids’ parents slowly begin to pick them up over the course of the evening, and Uraume occupies themself with cooking as the sun sets over the horizon. A merry glow casts over the apartment as fairy and holiday lights shine over the tinsel and shimmer along the walls.

Though not exactly Christmassy, you can also see what Sukuna meant at Gojo’s party when he mentioned his house was overrun with bead lizards. They seem to be strewn across nearly every surface as well, with tinsel tied to them like a second tail.

As the last of the kids file out, Yuji and Choso turn to the Gamecube that Sukuna has long forgotten is yours. You prefer it this way anyway, for it to get some use from the kids than to rot in your storage.

“Have you spoken to, uh, Kento?” Sukuna asks curiously over the sounds of clanking pots and utensils and video game music.

You nod. “He’s willing to help. He has something for me from my parents anyway, so he said we can meet at a cafe when he gets back and he’ll have his friend tag along.”

Sukuna raises a brow. “Does he know he’s doing me a favor, not you?”

“He does!”

“I’m sure he was thrilled to hear it,” Sukuna grumbles, slumping into the couch with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares blankly at the little tree on the floor. His gifts to the kids sit on the floor, nearly blocking the tree itself given its small stature.

“He’ll come around,” you assure him. “He hasn’t really had a chance to get to know you.”

Sukuna hums, his gaze remaining trained on the little Christmas tree. “He’s from your hometown?”

You nod. “Him and Haibara.”

“Mm.” Sukuna drums his fingers over his bicep. “Why didn’t you go home with them?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you join him in staring at the Christmas tree, suddenly finding its intrigue. “I couldn’t afford to.”

Crimson irises tear away from the tree to take in your bittersweet expression. He knows that feeling all-too-well, but it’s never occurred to him that it could be a sentiment you would share. He’s never made any assumptions that you’re rich, and although he has no clue how much or little it costs for you to get home, he did assume that wouldn’t stop you from spending Christmas with your family.

“Mm.” He supposes maybe you aren’t as different as he once thought. Perhaps you aren’t from different worlds, but rather two sides of the same coin. “‘M sorry.”

You turn your attention to him, your usual cheerful expression taking over again. Always looking on the bright side, like a ray of sunshine that seems to find its way through Sukuna’s darkness to light up his life.

He’s only known you for a couple of months, but he wonders when you became such a staple in his life, one that brings warmth to an otherwise cold and hardened man.

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “There’s always next year.” Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you regard the two boys playing Mario Party. “It’s nice to be here, anyway.”

Sukuna follows your gaze, his eyes befalling a game of Mario Party nearing the end that he fears will also end in tears if he knows anything about that game. He blinks a couple of times, taking in the thought that this is the first time in a while that his house has been so filled with life.

One year after another his holidays had diminished in size, beginning with the kids’ mother moving for a job, followed shortly by his father passing away. Along with the passing of his father, Sukuna’s mental health had followed, and what resulted was a Christmas so hollow that he struggles to remember that year, hidden deep within the carefully guarded recesses of his mind.

Yet when he needed them most, Uraume had made their way into his life and bit by bit, they had helped him pick up the pieces and find his footing. Just when he needed you most, you found your way into his life as well, though you were little more than the source of his disdain at first. He considers himself lucky that you’re so resilient when it comes to his snide demeanor, because for the first time in a long time, something occurs to Sukuna.

You and Uraume may not fill the same roles that having parents would have, but you’re both important figures in the kids’ lives and they need the positivity that you bring that Sukuna doesn’t provide. He’s aware he isn’t the best influence for two impressionable young kids, something that he wrestles with daily, but one reassurance remains a beacon when he finds himself doubting his abilities.

Your declaration that he’s their hero.

He’d never considered it before, but he sees it in the way Choso worries for him and understands, even at such a young age, that Sukuna is struggling. He sees it in the way Yuji runs to him to show him the latest basketball trick he’s learned.

So he’s gotta be doing something right.

After an extended silence, Sukuna finally finds the footing to reply to you. “We’re glad to have ya, princess.”

Uraume begins setting out dishes, requesting help as they work on the dinner’s finishing touches. The three of you work together to set the table, complete with a little candle in the center as the smell of chicken floods the apartment.

You narrowly avoid a meltdown by the looks of it as Choso is winning Mario Party by a landslide when Sukuna calls them over, asking them to shut off the TV for the night. Bounding to the table, you let the kids pile their plates high with chicken, stuffing, and potatoes, both completely avoiding anything that so much as touched vegetables. With a scowl, Sukuna reaches over to scoop some veggies onto their plates, met with a guilty frown from Choso and a groan from Yuji.

Once their plates are full, Sukuna insists that you and Uraume go first before he loads up his own plate with enough food to feed a whole family. You can only imagine what the grocery bill looks like for two growing boys and the wall of muscle that is Sukuna.

“This is all amazing, Uraume.”

They grin at your compliment, a warm blush dusting their cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Where’d you learn to cook? I know you’re in the history program with Sukuna, but I’d believe you if you said you were in the culinary program,” you continue, reveling in the flavor of the potatoes.

The shade of their reddened cheeks darkens and they chuckle lightly. “I appreciate that, but I’ll leave the culinary degree to Choso,” they smile, casting a glance at the little boy whose eyes sparkle at the mention of a culinary degree. You suppose that explains why he loves to follow you around in the kitchen so much. “I’m self-taught. I learned during our first year when I got sick of ramen and eating out.”

“I wish I had that same dedication,” you giggle, shaking your head as you go on to mention that the amount of times you’ve had eggs this week should be criminal.

Sukuna shoves his face full of food as he quietly listens to you and Uraume chat, while Yuji chimes in every so often. He can’t remember the last time he had a meal that wasn’t takeout or something he cooked mainly for the boys, who could be a bit picky, which often meant he was having the same few meals with a protein smoothie to tide him over. Apart from the leftover mac and cheese you cooked a little while ago, he thinks the last time might have been a full year ago to the day.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s smiling until you nudge him. “Doing alright, Kuna?”

He raises a brow questioningly, his mouth full of potatoes.

You smile, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it. How’s your dinner?” You decide not to push him, your heart full when his expression eases as he sits up, leaning back in a relaxed manner.

“Fuckin’ great,” he mumbles through a bite of chicken, going back in for more immediately.

“How many times have I told you to stop swearing in front of your brothers?” Uraume scolds, a playful air to their words.

Sukuna huffs, rolling his eyes. “If I start countin’ how many times you tell me not to swear or smoke, we’ll be here all day.”

“They have a point,” you poke fun at him with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas, get off my case,” he grumbles, leaning over the table.

“Quitting smoking would be a suitable Christmas gift for me, you know,” Uraume points out with a mischievous grin.

“Your gift,” Sukuna growls, no real bite to his words as he points his fork at them, “is learnin’ how to drive. Take it or leave it.” He shoves the piece of chicken into his mouth with a scowl in their direction, grunting when Uraume laughs.

“I suppose I’ll take the driving lessons,” they sigh humorously as though they’re settling.

Sukuna’s narrowed eyes are met with laughter from the table as conversation flows naturally throughout dinner. By the end of the meal, Yuji is practically vibrating with excitement as he casts glances towards the tree where a few wrapped gifts are sitting. Even Choso seems a bit restless, shifting constantly between sitting cross-legged on his chair and kicking his feet.

The moment Sukuna’s second plate of food is clean, Yuji pipes in. “Can we open presents?”

“Let me clean up, Yu,” Sukuna sighs, pushing his hair back from his forehead. It seems a moment’s rest is too much to ask for with two eager kids awaiting presents. Splaying his hands on the table, Sukuna pushes himself to his feet, piling all of the plates onto one to carry to the kitchen.

You gather empty glasses and follow after Sukuna, setting the dishes on the counter.

“Go sit,” Sukuna mumbles without casting you a glance as he rinses off plates and loads them into the dishwasher.

“I don’t mind, really!” You insist, bounding back to the table to grab the leftover potatoes. When you spin around, you’re met with Sukuna’s chest, startling at his close proximity. He pulls the bowl of potatoes from your hand, smirking as you purse your lips.

“Sit.” With his spare hand, he presses down on your shoulder until you’re back in your seat.

Uraume stifles a laugh, exchanging a glance with you as your cheeks warm. “Every year, I cook and he cleans up afterwards,” they explain. Clearly, he intends to keep it that way, giving you a chance to get to know Uraume better.

“How long have you known each other?” You ask as Sukuna continues to clean up, gathering the leftover food into tupperware to keep in the fridge while the two kids talk amongst themselves.

They tilt their head in thought. “Around four years now, I sat beside him on the first day of History 109.” They lean back in their chair, resting their hands in their lap with a chuckle. “He drank my coffee.”

“I thought it was mine,” Sukuna groans from the kitchen.

Uraume smiles wider. “I’m not sure how you thought that. You were drinking black coffee and mine had cream and sugar.”

“I thought classes started at ten, not eight,” he huffs as he pulls more dishes from the table “I was tired.”

“I suppose you needed the caffeine more than I did,” Uraume laughs, their eyes crinkling gleefully at the corners. “But it did mean that he owed me a coffee,” they continue their explanation. “Our friends got along well, and here we are.”

“God knows Toji needed someone to keep him in line,” Sukuna mutters.

“Toji… you mentioned he got you kicked out of Gojo’s once?” You question with a tilt of your head as Sukuna clears the last of the dishes from the table.

Uraume hums. “Sounds like the right Toji. He can be a handful. We can introduce you when classes are back in.”

“I’d like tha-”

“Kunaaaa, can we open presents nowwww?” Yuji interrupts, doing his very best to remain patient.

You giggle at the poor kid, who’s just about bouncing off the walls like a ping pong ball at the rate he’s vibrating in his seat.

Sukuna sighs, shutting the last tupperware lid over the remaining vegetables. “Go wait in the living room.”

Both boys’ chairs scrape the floor as they dash into the living room, excitedly yelling about who gets to open their gifts first.

The tattooed brother watches them with mild interest, returning to the table where he leans over the edge on his hands. “Can you entertain them for a minute?” He glances between you and Uraume. You nod in unison and watch as Sukuna pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Sliding one from the pack, he balances it between his lips and opens a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out a box of matches and striking one.

His cigarette burns like a lone star in the night sky against the backdrop of the twinkling apartment. He inhales as he whips the match through the air to put it out, tossing it in the sink to cool as he waits until he’s on the balcony to exhale smoke.

Before he shuts the door, he frustratedly murmurs something about having lost his dad’s lighter. The door closes with a thud, and he leans over the balcony, his back visibly rising and falling as he sighs.

With the kids excitedly seated in front of the tree seemingly entertaining themselves, Uraume uses the opportunity to turn towards you with a more serious expression, though they remain smiling.

“I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for him. I know he won’t ask for help, but he needs it. He doesn’t seem as burnt out lately.”

You return their kind smile, nodding. “He doesn’t make it easy, but I’m trying.”

They roll their eyes, chuckling. “He certainly doesn’t, does he?” As their laughter dies down, they cast a glance at the kids. “I’m surprised he told you about his brothers though.”

Shaking your head, you blow air from your nose in a wry laugh. “He didn’t. I ran into him after he didn’t show up to work on our project.”

“Oh? In that case, I’m surprised he’s let you in at all.”

“You and me both,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I think most of our friendship has hinged on the fact that he thinks he owes me.”

“Sounds familiar,” Uraume quips, getting to their feet as Sukuna makes the motions of putting out his cigarette outside. He rolls his shoulders backwards in an effort to stretch his muscles before stepping back inside. You follow after Uraume, quickly making a motion to grab the gifts, as well as your forgotten cookies.

“Oh! I- um- brought some cookies,” you hold out the tupperware as you make your way into the living room, setting the container down on the coffee table with the bag of gifts at your feet.

“That’s so kind of you!” Uraume delights, opening the box.

“They’re nothing compared to your cooking, but they were always a tradition back home for me,” you smile to yourself, heat rising to your cheeks.

Finishing the cookie in only a couple of bites, they shake their head. “They’re delicious, and it’s still very kind of you.”

You find yourself grinning, glancing at Sukuna who hums in agreement as he takes one as well. The brothers are close behind as they practically scarf the treats down, their eyes shining.

“Alright you brats, there’s one for each of ya from me, and one to share.”

“Wait!” Choso cries out, scrambling to his feet as he runs down the hall. You watch curiously as he rounds the corner with three santa hats. Adjusting his antlers, he holds them out to you, Uraume, and his older brother, met with two ‘thank you’s, and an adamant ‘no’.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out which of the three of you is scowling down at the hat held in his hands.

You nudge his bicep with your elbow, a gleeful smile donning your lips. “C’mon, Kuna. Just wear it for an hour. Look how excited they are.”

Sukuna follows your gaze, deep red irises flicking between the two kids before resting on the hopeful look his middle brother wears. With a sigh, he gives in to both your and his brother’s wishes, pulling the hat on over his tousled pink hair. Even with his familiar grumpy scowl, he looks surprisingly cute in the Christmas spirit.

Though you’re sure if he realized that, the hat would disappear in an instant, so you keep that secret to yourself.

“One at a time. Youngest goes first.”

Yuji scrambles excitedly with the first of his gifts, tearing at wrapping paper around a gift box that’s practically his size. Tossing the paper aside, he flips the box towards him, eyes wide at the five-year-old sized basketball. He gasps in excitement, holding it up triumphantly. “A new basketball!” He proclaims, immediately trying to tear it from the cardboard.

“Slow down, Yu. There’s one more thing in there.”

Yuji curiously peers down at his lap, now noticing the black and red material he’d missed previously. He holds it up, gaping at the realization that Sukuna’s gotten him a custom jersey with his last name scrawled in big red text across the back with his favorite team’s logo on the front.

“No WAY!” He cries out excitedly, standing up and immediately pulling it on over his t-shirt. It’s a bit big on him, but Sukuna figured it made the most sense to get him a bigger size given how fast he’d been growing. “Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou!” Yuji cries, hopping up and down excitedly.

Sukuna’s chest swells at the sight of what he hopes is a Christmas living up to his brother’s dreams while you and Uraume grin at his sides. Even by his own standards, he thinks he could enjoy Christmas if it’s like this every year.

Like a shot to his chest, his mind suddenly reminds him of the impending lawsuit, but he pushes the thought aside, subconsciously pressing his knee against yours.

You cast him a glance at the feeling of his leg knocking against yours, but you can’t make out whether he’s aware of how close you are. Your cheeks warm as you search for a meaning behind the action, but Sukuna’s mirthful expression gives nothing away about his lingering doubts. Likely thinking too much into the action, you let it go.

“Your turn, Cho.”

Sukuna points to a smaller gift wrapped as neatly as Sukuna could manage (which is to say not neatly at all) in snowflake-covered light blue wrapping paper.

Choso grabs the gift, much more timidly opening it. He pulls out a set of kid-sized knives along with a pan sized appropriately for him. “Thank you, Kuna!” He grins, testing out the weight of the pan in his hand.

“Be careful with those things,” his elder brother mutters as Choso examines the knife set. “One more thing in there for you too, Cho.”

Deep brown eyes widen and he peers down so suddenly his antlers nearly fall from his head. Sure enough, beneath some tissue paper at the bottom of the box is a black apron, also a bit big for him, with his name embroidered across the front in deep purple.

In a much more subtle show of gratefulness than his little brother, Choso holds it up with a look of wonder, running his thumb over his name. In disbelief, he too gets to his feet and throws it on over his head, tying it at the back.

Choso’s grin widens and he runs up to Sukuna, practically hopping over the coffee table in an attempt to get to him. “Thank you, Kuna,” he repeats himself again as he clings to his brother’s sweatshirt.

“Mm.” Sukuna ruffles his hair with a small smile. “Go open your last gift with your brother,” he urges. “And you two better share.”

Choso hops back towards his little brother as the two excitedly unwrap their last gift from Sukuna. Within a small box sits a copy of Sonic Advance for their Gameboy.

“No way!” Yuji proclaims excitedly, turning back to Sukuna. “You’re the best, thank you!” He cries, scrambling to his feet to hug his brother. Choso follows suit, each kid finding a place on either side of the tattooed man.

He blows a breath out through his nose, smirking as he pulls them in. In a rare moment of genuine happiness, he hugs them close. You cast a glance at Uraume, who seems just as happy to be a part of this moment with Sukuna’s little family. They may not be perfect, but they care a great deal for one another, that much is clear.

Uraume leans forward and hands the boys a card. “This is for both of you.”

“You didn’t have to get them anything,” Sukuna mumbles to his friend. “The dinner is more than enough.”

“I didn’t have to,” they agree, “but I wanted to.”

Choso tears the envelope open, reading the card out to his brother before peering down at the three papers that fall from the envelope. “Sonic the Hedgehog 3 movie tickets?” He gasps with wide eyes, looking up at Sukuna.

“Tell me the third ticket is for you,” he grumbles to Uraume as Yuji hops to his feet to hug them.

“Nope! I checked with both of your work schedules, you can make it,” they grin at him, bursting into laughter at the grimace that pulls Sukuna’s lips into a frown.

As the cheers and laughter dies down and the brothers make their way back over to the tree after hugging Uraume, you pull out two long, slender boxes and hand one to each kid.

Sukuna sighs, his brow knit tightly together as he avoids your gaze. “You didn’t have to do all this either. You do more than enough for them too.”

“It’s Christmas, Kuna. I wanted to.” You shrug. “Open them at the same time,” you instruct, watching Choso gingerly rip the paper off as Yuji is already eagerly tossing it aside. With wide eyes and gasps, they both hold up Nerf guns, a purple one for Choso and a red one for Yuji.

Sukuna groans as the two boys exchange an excited look, showing their gifts off to one another. “You’re gonna give me a damn headache, woman,” he grumbles, leaning forward on his palm with his elbow resting on his knee.

Yuji bounces to his feet, running to give you a hug as he thanks you over and over, followed shortly by Choso. You wrap your arms around them both, rubbing both of their backs softly. Adjusting your hat so it doesn’t fall off of your head as they pull back, you’re about to grab your gift for Sukuna when Choso gingerly shuffles in place in front of you.

“We- um- have something for you guys too,” he proclaims in a voice barely above a mumble. With a shy smile, he runs off to grab what you can only assume is the gift, leaving the three of you in an air of confusion.

Yuji returns first, followed shortly by Choso. Hidden in their fists are three woven friendship bracelets each. Your lips part, forming an ‘o’ as you gasp at the sight. The two boys are positively too cute.

Holding out your wrist, you watch with tear-filled eyes as Yuji’s tongue sticks out while he ties a red and white striped bracelet around your wrist. It’s the type of bracelet that isn’t coming off anytime soon, but you don’t mind one bit. You’ll treasure it for as long as it’ll stay on your wrist.

Yuji moves on to Sukuna with a red and black checkered bracelet while Choso ties a purple and blue striped bracelet around Uraume’s wrist, his face scrunched in concentration. Unbeknownst to him, Sukuna’s knee presses harder into yours, a somber look crossing his eyes for a split second as he stares down at the checkered bracelet soundly wrapped around his wrist. He swallows hard, twisting his wrist to better see the woven jewelry.

With a glance to either side, he watches with a barely-contained frown as Choso ties a purple and black checkered bracelet just below Yuji’s on his wrist, moving along to add a purple and white striped one to yours.

Both you and Uraume grin, while you obviously fight tears of joy at the simple, yet meaningful gift. Sukuna's stomach seems to twist and he forces down the bile that threatens to come up, chewing on his lower lip.

The idea that this could be the last gift he ever receives from his brothers is fresh in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like an endless nightmare. His muscles tense as he returns his gaze to the two checkered bracelets around his wrist, one much cleaner looking than the other, but that’s not what matters to him.

With a tight-lipped smile that barely masks his underlying anxieties, he’s just about to open his mouth to thank the kids when you speak up first.

“This is so sweet, you two are so talented!” You beam, eyes glassy as you continue to fight tears.

Your knee gently brushes his, a silent acknowledgment that you recognize the paralyzing distance crossing over his eyes. Your quiet offering of support doesn’t go unnoticed and Sukuna uses the opportunity to compose himself. With a sharp intake of breath, he forces a smile that reads more real than the tight-lipped one he previously wore.

“Thanks, kiddos.”

“They look wonderful,” Uraume agrees.

Returning to their gifts, the two kids distract themselves by tearing into whatever cardboard they can get their hands on in an effort to free the basketball and Nerf dart guns. As they busy themselves with their new gifts, you pull out one more box for Sukuna with a cute little bow wrapped around the gift box.

He peers down at the gift as you hold it out to him, shaking his head.

“I don’t need anything,” he grumbles, his mind still somewhat fuzzy as he grapples with the stress of the lawsuit.

“Just take it, Kuna.” You hold it out expectantly to him.

He sighs, taking the box into his hands with a glance up at your timid expression. Pulling at the ribbon, he unwraps it and slowly opens the box, his lips twitching into a frown as he picks his Type O Negative shirt up from inside the giftbox.

“My own shirt,” he comments with a sarcastic edge to his tone at what he’s sure is a joke gift, though he’s actually somewhat relieved you didn’t get him anything.

You giggle at his disdainful expression. “You’re just as bad as your brothers. Unwrap the shirt.”

His brows knit together as he slowly unwraps the shirt. Hidden between the layers of fabric is none other than his dad’s lighter, with the cap back in place, shining like the day Sukuna pulled it from his father’s belongings as though it’s been freshly polished.

His jaw subtly falls open as he drops his shirt into his lap, flipping the cap of the lighter open and watching as he turns it and the flame comes to life. He blinks a few times, his throat tightening as he turns the lighter, the ‘Itadori’ engraving no longer dull and barely visible, but full of life and a stark contrast to the rest of the metal.

Shutting the cap, he runs his tongue over his lower lip once before biting down a bit too harshly on the plush skin, a metallic tang penetrating his taste buds. He pays it no mind, finally looking up at you.

His expression is unreadable and your stomach flutters with nerves as his words seem to fail him when he opens his mouth, fiddling with the lighter.

“You fixed it?”

You nod. “I mean, a professional did, but yeah. I hope- I thought you might appreciate it after the whole lighting yourself on fire thing.” Your voice is quiet, wavering slightly. You catch a questioning gaze from Uraume, but they don’t dare interrupt the moment.

Sukuna stares down at the lighter for another moment, flipping it again. Your stomach does a flip when he rubs his face harshly and you can’t tell whether he’s frustrated with you or thankful.

He’s so damn near tears that it takes him a moment to compose himself before he lowers his hand back down the lighter. “Shit, princess,” he mutters, his throat raw with emotions that he can’t identify.

Unable to tell if that’s a good or bad reaction, you wrap your arms around yourself, tilting your head. “I hope it’s- um-” you stammer, trying to find words, but it’s not like you can undo what’s been done to the lighter, having taken a leap of faith to begin with, even if the gift was Choso-approved. “Sorry, I-”

“Shut up.” Sukuna’s tone isn’t nearly as assertive as usual as he shakes his head at the lighter, unable to meet your gaze out of fear that his eyes might be red again, though this time not from weed. “I appreciate it.”

Your brow raises and a smile finds your lips as relief washes over you. “Yeah?”

He blows a humorous breath out through his nose, nodding. “It means a lot.”

Your smile stretches to a grin that you exchange with Uraume, who seems to know the meaning behind your gift just as well as you do.

“For the record, Uraume’s still right, you should quit,” you point out, earning a sharp stare. Giggling, you nudge his shoulder playfully. “But I know what that means to you, so I thought- you know,” you shrug, thankful you got the right impression from the fact that he continued to use the lighter long after it had broken.

“You two are pains in my ass,” Sukuna huffs, shoving the lighter into his pocket as he finally finds himself back in the moment as the source of your teasing. Reaching up to scratch his chest, he leans back against the couch again. “When did you nab my lighter anyway? It disappeared on a night when I don’t think I saw ya.”

You shoot a smirk at his middle brother, who’s carefully loading foam darts into his toy gun, completely oblivious to the conversation going on between the adults.

“I see,” he hums. Your accomplice glances up as he feels three pairs of eyes on him, tilting his head curiously until Yuji grabs his attention and his impending question is long forgotten. Swallowing, Sukuna gets to his feet. “I have somethin’ for you too.”

He disappears around the corner towards his bedroom, and you’re left exchanging a glance with Uraume, who shrugs. You hadn’t expected anything from him, simply grateful to have company in the absence of your family over the holidays.

You glance back in the direction of the hall when his door clicks shut and he re-emerges, a single piece of paper held carefully in front of him. He sits between you and Uraume once more, turning to face you with a furrowed brow. “Here.”

Gingerly taking the page from him, your jaw drops at the sight. In his traditional graphite and charcoal style, an artistic rendition of you smiling at something off to the side of the page’s line of sight is scrawled across the paper. A clear amount of care has gone into capturing each of your features, deliberate shading and lines framing your complexion.

Bringing a hand up to cover your gaping mouth, you barely manage to whisper, “you�� drew me?”

Sukuna’s somewhat glad you haven’t looked up at him yet, his face burning red hot as he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “You loved the project piece so much, I figured…” he trails off, staring down at the piece in your hand when he catches a glimpse of your trembling hand holding the paper.

You chew on your lip as tears prick in your eyes, butterflies threatening to burst at the seams in your stomach as your heart practically rolls over itself in your chest. Whether he returns your feelings or not, one thing is beyond clear.

Sukuna cares a great deal about you, to have poured so much time and effort into something like this, but one more thought lingers in the back of your mind. A thought that has you teetering dangerously close to spiraling into thoughts of uncertainty.

Sukuna thinks you’re beautiful. The proof is in the care that went into each stroke of his pencil and smudge of charcoal to portray you just as he sees you.

“Shit, are you…?” Sukuna mutters when he hears you sniffle, taken aback when you set the art aside and leap forward to hug him. His arms stiffen in the air as he stares blankly at the wall, uncertainty clouding his actions.

“Thank you, Kuna,” you mumble meekly, tears stinging at the edge of your tone as you do what you can to hold them back.

Silence hangs between you, interrupted only by the sounds of clicking plastic as the boys figure out their Nerf guns. Uraume smiles from behind Sukuna at the sight of their friend struggling to wrap his mind around you hugging him. It takes a moment, but gradually his muscles relax and he wraps his arms around you in return.

“Mhm.”

Your eyes flicker open, catching Uraume’s warm smile as you pull back from Sukuna, whose gaze trails to the art. Following his line of sight, you pick the piece back up and hold it gently in your lap.

“It’s gorgeous, thank you.”

He opens his mouth to reply, when a stray foam dart hits him square in the jaw and tumbles down to the ground at his feet.

“Watch it, brat,” Sukuna glowers at Yuji, whose toy gun is pointed a little too precisely at his forehead for his liking.

Unfortunately for the tattooed man, this doesn’t deter his little brother one bit.

With a plastic click, another foam dart is sent careening through the air, colliding with the man’s forearm as he lifts it to block the attack. “Brat!” He barks, getting to his feet and stepping over you. A giggle and pattering of small feet against the hardwood can be heard as Yuji skitters around the corner and out of sight.

With a sharp glare and intent to chase his brother, Sukuna stops, turning to you and bending down to your seated height. He points an accusatory finger at you, his face close enough to make your mouth go dry.

“This is your fucking fault,” he hisses, sans any malice. Despite the fire behind his glare and the accusation dripping from his tone, you spot the telltale sign that Sukuna’s having fun. His lip quirks just the tiniest bit at the corner, giving him away as he straightens and grabs the wall to send himself flying around the corner after his brother. “C’mere you little shit!” He calls.

“No swearing!” Uraume reminds him, but their reminder is met only with cacophonous laughter and the sound of foam darts hitting the wall at a near alarming pace. Yuji comes sliding around the corner, one hand tightly gripping his antlers in an effort to keep them on his head. He scrambles away from the foam darts that bounce harmlessly off the ground behind him before diving towards the couch.

You set the art in your lap on the coffee table before the youngest Itadori can clamber into your lap for protection.

The plastic sound of a gun cocking rings in the air as Sukuna points it squarely at you. He sports his usual scowl, but amusement swirls in his eyes.

“She ain’t gonna protect you, brat,” Sukuna threatens.

“You wouldn’t dare shoot us, would you?” You stick out your lower lip pleadingly, pouting as you play along.

Without missing a beat, a dart collides with your cheek.

“Ow!” You gasp in disbelief, although the dart didn’t truly hurt you at all. “Okay, so maybe you would,” you grumble, rubbing at your cheek. “Choso! Shoot him!” You point at the oldest brother.

Choso, who had previously only been watching, hesitates for a moment as he glances between you and the oldest sibling, before firing a shot at Sukuna’s arm. Sukuna’s attention is pulled to Choso, his teeth grit as he fires back a shot at the boy’s shoulder.

“Run, Yu!” You whisper to the little boy, who bounds down off the couch and into the kitchen in a fit of giggles.

Choso gets to his feet and runs into the hallway as the three brothers engage in a Nerf war, bringing a smile to both your and Uraume’s faces.

“I can’t help but feel as though you should have gotten one for Sukuna as well,” they laugh.

You settle into the center of the couch where Sukuna had been seated, laughing alongside them. “Seems like it.” Turning your attention towards them, you shake your head. “I’ll be honest, I thought Nerf guns would annoy him.”

“Oh, they will. I give it a week,” Uraume pointedly nods and you find yourself laughing alongside them again.

“A week is too generous.”

“A day, perhaps?” They laugh.

As the air between you settles, warmth washes over you. You’ve seen small moments like this in the apartment, ones where the three brothers are all smiles and laughter, even Sukuna, but this one seems different somehow. Less fleeting, as though the burden and weight of Sukuna’s responsibilities aren’t bearing down quite as hard on him right now, even if it’s only for a night.

You don’t believe in miracles, and certainly not Christmas miracles, but if they existed, you think this is what it would look like.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before.”

You turn your head towards Uraume, tilting your head. “Never?”

They take a moment to contemplate it before shaking their head, their lips pressing into a thin line. “He’s been playing the role of parent so long that I think he sometimes forgets he’s their brother.”

A pang of sadness floods you as a stray dart flies across the kitchen, clanking as it hits a glass that didn’t fit in the dishwasher before it falls to the floor. You’ve seen glimpses here and there of the version of Sukuna that gets to be just a brother and student, it’s hard to believe it’s a side of him that Uraume’s never seen.

“You know,” they comment, setting their elbow along the back of the couch as they lean on their palm, “he seems a lot more relaxed these days. Is that your doing?”

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug. “I’ve been helping take care of his brothers here and there.”

They smile. “I’m glad he has another reliable person to lean on.”

Heat crawls up to your cheeks, but before you can reply, Sukuna trudges into the living room and slumps into the couch with a huff.

“You know, suddenly the Sonic movie doesn’t seem so bad,” he grumbles with a sly look in your direction.

You roll your eyes playfully, nudging his knee with your own. “Oh, don’t act like you aren’t having fun.”

He doesn’t reply, reaching up to pull his Santa hat off and set it aside, running a hand through his hair. He lets out a breath, leaning his head back on the couch. There’s a sense of calm to the silence held between the three of you that Sukuna’s grateful for. A certain understanding that even if only for a moment, he needs this escape.

“Thanks. Both of you.” In an uncharacteristically serious tone, he folds his arms over his chest, relaxing into the couch as he spreads his legs in typical man fashion. “I think Yuji got what he wanted.”

There’s an undertone to his words that you catch, one that gives away what he’s thinking, but before he can slip into a distant world of worries, you set a comforting hand on his bicep. His eyes flicker down to your hand, his expression unreadable.

“Merry Christmas, Sukuna. You too, Uraume.”

He blows air through his nose in a wry laugh, his expression relaxed as your hand drops back to your side. Carefully moving the art of you aside, he kicks his feet up on the coffee table.

“Merry Christmas.”

With a content sigh, Uraume gets to their feet. “I think it’s time I head out. I have an early breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh! So do I,” you follow suit, beginning to gather your things. “Do you need a ride?” You ask, having taken note of the fact that Sukuna’s gift to them was driving lessons.

“That would be great,” they reply with a smile as you both begin gathering your things. Sukuna calls the kids over to say goodbye before you leave as you pull your coat over your Christmas sweater.

Yuji thanks you both, adorably referring to Uraume as ‘Rume’ as he hugs them, before hugging you. Choso follows suit, both pairs of auburn eyes shining brilliantly as they stand at Sukuna’s feet.

“Thank you for the bracelets,” you grin, kneeling down to Yuji and Choso’s level. They both have three matching woven bracelets on each of their wrists in true friendship bracelet fashion, and quite honestly you could cry at how sweet that is.

Yuji leans in to hug you again, pulling back with a bounce to his step as he cries out “Merry Christmas!”

Choso repeats the merriment more quietly, waving at you both.

“Don’t forget your cookies,” Sukuna hands you the tupperware, but you shake your head.

“If I eat nineteen cookies on my own, I’ll be sick,” you giggle. “Let these two have them.”

Yuji excitedly rocks forwards and backwards on his feet at the prospect of having nineteen cookies that his oldest brother is almost guaranteed to not want.

Sukuna sighs, grimacing as his hand falls back to his side when you refuse the cookies, but he keeps his mouth shut.

It’s Christmas, he supposes his brothers can have some cookies, so he relents.

“Got your gift?”

You nod, unable to help the shy grin on your lips as you hold up the bag that the art is safely sitting at the bottom of.

“Good. Lemme know when you’re both home.”

“I’ll email you,” you confirm.

“Get a phone, Sukuna,” Uraume scolds, only to be met with a sneer as Sukuna’s lip curls in irritation.

“Bite me,” is all he replies, unwilling to admit that he needs to save for a lawyer before he can save for a phone.

He can worry about a phone once this is all over. For now, it’s Christmas, and he wants to put whatever focus he can into granting Yuji the only thing he actually asked for this year.

A big Christmas.

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❦ a/n ; i know i'm a bit late for the holidays and i'm sure many people will be reading this outside of that time period anyway, but i could nawwwt resist giving them a warm and cozy lil holiday together <3 not sure what happened but when it hit 10k words i figured i'd just make this a full chapter. aaaanyways i hope you all enjoyed the sweet fluffy glimpse into their family christmas because i have some angsty plans coming up 😶 forgive me!! as always, thank you for the love and support <33

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[hueseok]

it was always you (from the vault)

originally titled: take my breath away.

a.k.a. the original draft for my “it was always you” fic wherein naval aviator!jungkook is your cocky soon-to-be-ex-husband who won’t sign your divorce papers because he’s still in love with you lol.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4.5k

content: fluff, semi-angst, exes to ??? | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + husband!jungkook

warning: what you’re about to read (if you do choose to read this) is an unfinished work which perhaps will forever be unfinished.

the only reason i’m posting it because i feel like it’d be a waste to let it rot in my drafts considering that i really liked how it went until the moment i stopped writing hehehehe. i’ve also thought about continuing this story but since i already have an existing naval aviator!jungkook in my masterlist, i felt like it’d be redundant to post this!

anyhow, since a lot of you showed so much love to “it was always you”, i thought it’d be nice to share this 🥹

You really hoped that flying for almost three hours and experiencing horrid turbulence during half of the trip was going to be worth it. But again, that was only the first part of the whole charade; the real challenge would begin perhaps much later, when you finally come face to face with the person that you were scheduled to meet.

As you walked inside the bar, the nerves that previously weren’t there started to crawl from your chest to your legs, making it harder to reach the counter where a vacant bar stool stood. You didn’t even know why you were suddenly nervous—although you could only guess that the sudden burst of anxiety was rooted from talking again to the most stubborn man ever to walk on earth—and you were already preparing yourself for the long conversation you were going to have with him and possibly the extended leave you’ll have to inform your boss for this trip because of his infamous stubbornness.

“____?” a familiar voice abruptly called out for you after you finished ordering a mug of beer from the barmaid, “no fucking way. It can’t be.”

You turned to your left and saw Jung Hoseok.

Spoiler: he wasn’t the person you were going to meet today, which made seeing him such a delight. You grinned immediately upon making eye contact, hopping out of your chair and exclaiming his name with the same enthusiasm he let out when he did realize it was you who he was looking at.

“Holy shit. What are you doing here?” He automatically engulfed you in a tight embrace when you initiated. You noticed that he was wearing an off duty attire, a plain black polo shirt and blue jeans, his hair kept neat and short. “Actually, scratch that—there’s only one person you should be here for.”

You bothered to smile. “Yeah. I’m guessing he didn’t tell anyone I’m visiting, huh?”

“Nope. He 100% kept it a secret because he knows that we’re going to steal you away if he spills.”

“We?” you mused. You didn’t even know that he was training with Hoseok, and now you’re discovering that Hoseok’s apparently not the only friend he has here. “How many of you that I know are training with him?”

Hoseok takes a short pause to think about it. “Hm… well, there’s me, then Yoongi and… Namjoon. That’s just about it.”

“Wow. It’s essentially the whole group again, huh?”

“Yup. I mean, we are the best of the best.” He smirked.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“And we’ve missed you,” he added swiftly. “I’m a bit mad that your husband didn’t inform us that you’d be here—but again, I’m not surprised.”

“Sorry. I think I have myself to blame for that. I did tell him that I don’t intend to stay here for too long.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just here to make sure he signs the divorce papers.”

Hoseok nodded, thoughtful and a bit disappointed. “Is he giving you a hard time with them?”

“You can say that.” A dramatic sigh escaped you. “He insisted that if I really wanted to get his signature, I should just go here where he’s training.”

“Classic Jungkook.” He laughed, and you agreed with a snort.

He was right, this was all a Classic Jungkook move. 

Sometimes, you didn’t understand why you agreed to marry Jungkook so urgently when he asked for your hand, even after knowing that he did everything he could to ensure that he got what he wanted in the end.

Though that was just that thing, wasn’t it? He knew exactly what to do in order to get what he wanted—and at that time of his proposal, you knew it was you that he sought for.

Despite the fact that Jungkook had only been seeing you for less than a year, he was convinced that you were the love of his life. It was the reason why when he needed to be deployed for a mission, it seemed proposing was the most natural thing to do, going on about how he wanted to be reassured that when he came back for you, you were going to be there waiting for him, not only as a girlfriend, but as his wife.

And you said yes, without missing a beat, because you genuinely loved Jungkook and for you, the both of you were a match made in heaven.

By the two year mark of being a wedded couple though, just being in love with each other wasn’t enough. There were a lot of arguments, irreconcilable differences, a lot of moments wherein you wanted to abandon everything and just disappear—until you finally declared that enough was enough and you were going to file for divorce.

Of course, Jungkook didn’t want to sign them, but he did grant you a little bit of your freedom back. He did so by leaving your shared apartment on a random Thursday, only sending a text that said he was being called by the Navy for a mission he couldn’t disclose per usual, and that if you really wanted to divorce him, you’d just have to wait for him to go back.

He never returned though. Because after that mission, came a next one, and another one, until you heard that he was invited to a naval fighter weapons school in the northern part of the country, close to the seas and where he’ll be training for a few weeks among the best naval aviators in the nation. 

That’s when he decided to invite you over and say that if you wanted his signature, you’d have to be the one who’ll go to him. You initially contemplated for a long time before just going forth with his ridiculous demand. Nonetheless, you figured you were once again left with no choice because here you were now, doing exactly what he wanted to get what you exactly wanted as well.

God, who knew that contrary to how easy it was to enter this marriage, it was an absolute pain to get out of it?

“Do you know where he might be?” you asked Hoseok while taking a sip of your beer. “Or if he’s going here at least?”

“I have no clue,” Hoseok said. “Though I do know that he should have free time. We don’t have training for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be seriously pissed if he stands me up.”

“He won’t.”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but you’re ____,” he said it like it was reason enough, “and Jungkook can’t resist seeing you. Especially if it’s been what? How many months have passed since you two saw each other?”

You held up six fingers, continuing to gulp down your drink in frustration. “Still, he loves to annoy the shit out of me.”

“It’s his love language.”

“Oh, I’ve been made very aware.”

Hoseok barked out a laugh. He was a huge fan of your dynamic with Jungkook; he was practically there throughout the whole journey of your relationship. As Jungkook’s weapon systems officer, the both of them were thick as thieves, which also made him the best man of the wedding—so deep inside, he wanted to believe that whatever it was that you and Jungkook were dealing with, it would be resolved soon enough.

“Well, it looks like you don’t have to wait for too long.” Hoseok toasted his glass to the direction of the entrance where the Jeon Jungkook entered, removing his aviator sunglasses and hooking it on the collar of his white shirt, worn inside a dark blue long-sleeved polo he was sporting as well.

You followed his line of vision and scowled at the sight of Jungkook. Not because you hated your husband, but because even when in the middle of finalizing a divorce, you couldn’t deny that he was too handsome for his own good.

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Hoseok added, getting off his seat. “It was nice seeing you again, ___. Let’s catch up later, yeah? I’ll conspire with Joon and Yoongi to steal you away.” He smiled mischievously and gave you a sweet chaste kiss on the cheek before walking over to Jungkook, greeting him, pointing to where you were, and then walking to another table where you guessed a bunch of other naval aviators were hanging out.

A sigh escaped you, just in time when Jungkook met your gaze.

He grinned—actually grinned—and you had to prevent your eyes from twitching to not look like some crazy person who didn’t have any self-control. So, instead of plastering the same scowl a few seconds ago for him to see, you flashed a sarcastic smile, waving your hand.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Jungkook claimed when he was close enough, marching towards you, appearing like he was going to go for a kiss but before he could, you outstretched an arm and stopped him by literally wrapping your fingers around his neck as if you were planning to choke him to death with the gesture (which you were tempted to do).

He rolled his eyes, holding your wrist and bringing it down.

“Can’t I give you a kiss?” he retorted.

“No.”

“And Hoseok can?”

“Hoseok’s my friend.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“Wrong. I haven’t signed any divorce papers, honey, so in the eyes of the law, I’m still very much your husband.” He quickly stole a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you allowed yourself to grimace in annoyance, glaring at him as he took Hoseok’s previous seat.

You watched him order a drink for himself and nachos for sharing. You didn’t say anything while he did all that; you just stared at him, analyzing him, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of his. You honestly had no clue what his thought process was in depriving you of the signature you wanted and then randomly agreeing to meet you again, accompanied with the condition that you’re the one who has to go to him and not the other way around.

As he reasoned, he was still in the middle of training, and he couldn’t just leave even if he wanted to and that’s why you had to make the effort to make this work (he made it clear that he didn’t want to make the effort anyway if it meant it could lead to his and yours divorce).

“How are you?” he asked once he was done ordering and you scoffed.

“Let’s not do that, Jungkook.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that I’m not allowed to know how you’re doing too.”

“I meant the small talk. Let’s just cut to the chase.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Jungkook.”

“Alright.” He placed an arm against the counter, spinning his stool to face you. “You already know where I stand, though. I still haven’t changed my mind in wanting to work it out first.”

“What? But you told me that if I went here—”

“I would talk to you, not sign the papers,” he finished. “You didn’t really think I’d sign them just like that, right?”

Your stomach dropped.

There goes assuming that the three-hour flight to go here would be worth it.

“I did, actually.” You grumbled. “When are you giving this a rest?”

He seemed annoyed by the rhetoric question. “When are you going to stop thinking that divorce is the answer to our problem?”

“We already did couple’s therapy and that proved to be a waste of time.”

“That’s because you were stubborn and wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s stubborn between the both of us? I’m the one who wouldn’t cooperate?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not!” You raised your hands up. “You were the one who always said some lame excuse to not attend it with me.”

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you, my schedule isn’t—”

“Yeah, whatever.” You didn’t let him finish, knowing that he was going to say something about how being in the Navy didn’t grant him the free time you were expecting him to have.

“I’m just saying… you can’t keep on doing this, you know?” you said.

“Can’t keep doing what?”

“Prolonging this. We already broke up, Jungkook. There’s not point in staying married.”

“That’s the thing, though.” He smirked. “I can keep prolonging it.”

Your nostrils flared. “Why?”

“Because I can.”

You think flashes of red were beginning to blur your vision.

Jungkook noticed the rage building up, yet he didn’t back down. “Why are you even so eager to legally separate? Do you plan on getting married again soon?” he asked.

It was supposed to be a joke, because Jungkook didn’t actually think you were seeing anyone at the moment—but at the mention of it, he saw the manner in which your expression slightly shifted, and he narrowed his eyes at you, understanding. “Don’t bullshit me. You aren’t seeing anyone, right?”

You blinked, acting all innocent. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is. You’re still married to me.”

“We’ve broken up for almost a year now, Jungkook.” You groaned, remaining him once again. “If you just signed the goddamn papers, all of this would be out of your hands.”

He scoffed. “You are seeing someone?”

“That is not the point of our conversation.”

“Well, it’s a significant aspect of it.”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I am seeing someone. Happy?”

Jungkook was in fact not happy. He was angry, but then he thought of how he shouldn’t be, because you and him have broken up for almost a year now like you said. Even though he wasn’t in support of that notion, he remembered at least granting you enough freedom to feel like you could date around without thinking about how you were technically cheating on him if ever you did. 

However, he didn’t really think you would find someone. Sure, you were beautiful, you had an amazing personality, there was no question when it came to you attracting men, yet you could be picky most of the time. It was even a miracle how he managed to bag you; though he guessed that he didn’t really have to try that hard in the first place before because the two of you just had so much in common for you to ignore.

“What’s his name?” he asked after a long silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you have to know?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “It’s Ben.”

Jungkook thought the name sounded stupid. “How long have you been dating him?”

You hesitated, already predicting how he was going to react that you almost exaggerated the answer, but decided against it last minute. “Five weeks.”

He suddenly burst out laughing, the sound echoing inside the bar; it was the exact type of response you were positive he was going to do, proof that you knew him too well and that you shouldn’t have changed your pretense in the first place.

“It’s not funny,” you hissed, noticing that a lot of people were glancing at where you were both situated. “What the hell is funny about what I said?”

“You want to divorce me for a guy you’ve been dating for five weeks?” He carried on snickering; he barely got the whole sentence out because he was too busy catching his breath.

“Of course not! I would just prefer it if I don’t have any baggage left before attempting to commit to another relationship.”

The barmaid came back with Jungkook’s beer and nachos. He thanked her and slid the basket of cheesy nachos to your direction, an offer that you could get a piece if you wanted. However you were neither hungry nor interested in getting anything from him that would elicit a thank you from you, too prideful at this point due to how annoying he was being.

“What does he do for a living?” he asked next.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to make fun of it.”

“Is it worth making fun of?”

“No.”

“Then just tell me.” He threw a chip inside his mouth. 

You pressed your lips together. “He’s a bank clerk.”

Jungkook didn’t laugh this time, but the corners of his mouth were twitching as he grinned, and you found yourself refraining from wanting to strangle him again, questioning why you thought it was a good idea to come here since it was obvious that talking to him properly was an impossible task.

“You’re dating a bank clerk?” he posed the question like it was the most preposterous thing he had heard from you today. “What the hell do the both of you have in common?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have you know that Ben is a very nice guy.”

“That’s what ladies say when a man is horrible in bed.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is he good then?”

“That’s none of your business, Jungkook,” you uttered once more, teeth gritting. “Besides, it’s only been five weeks.”

He smirked. “That’s a no then. It seems that you haven’t slept with him,” he said. “Makes sense. I mean, if you have already slept with another guy, you might be already begging me to get back together. Given that I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “How the fuck are you always so arrogant?”

“It comes with the praise I usually get during my escapades, babe.” Jungkook winked at you, hand reaching out for another nacho.

“Oh, so I’m assuming you do have sex with other people now. You know, if you’ve just divorced me, you can go live your happy single life again to go to that without any worries.”

“I don’t sleep with other people—”

“But you just said—”

“I meant before I met you.” He pointed out, giving you a look. “Why are you even thinking about that? Are you jealous?”

“God, you’re fucking impossible.” You practically growled. 

He flashed you another smirk, amused.

“Anyhow,” you began, bringing out the divorce papers from your bag that you should have given him the second you saw him, but as what you think was part of his plan, he did manage to stall you in doing so, “here’s the papers.” You shoved it to his chest, rendering Jungkook no choice but to grab it.

He glanced down at them. “You’re never going to stop until I sign these, huh?”

You nodded. “Never.”

“Fine.” Jungkook flickered his gaze on you. “I’ll sign them.”

You glared at him. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you?”

You were still suspicious, but at the same time, you had high hopes.

“Yes. But I need to meet Ben the bank clerk first.”

Your spirits dropped. “Oh, no, no, no,” you made a huge cross sign with your arms, “you are not giving me another condition just to go against your word in the end.”

“I won’t this time.”

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed loudly.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at you. “I’m serious. You want my signature or not?”

You bit the insides of your cheeks, gazing at him.

You were no fool, you knew why he wanted to meet him; you knew that it was because he wanted to see it for himself if the guy you replaced him for was actually more good looking than him or at least appeared as if he could survive a fistfight if Jungkook prompted to start one. It was all testosterone and ego, and you contemplated cutting his balls just to get this over with once and for all.

Surely, by then, he would be more agreeable.

“Fine,” you told him. “If you meet him, you’ll sign the papers? Promise?”

He took a sip of his beer, shrugging. “Sure.”

***

Jungkook watched the scene unfold in front of him with an amused expression.

Although he did admit it once that he did get a bit jealous whenever you gave the other guys more attention than him, he loved his best pals too much to care.

It was why he allowed instances like this to happen wherein you made it apparent that you valued their company much more than you did Jungkook. It was evident in the manner in which you laughed loudly as Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon hugged you, each one of them taking turns in lifting your body off the ground a few seconds in glee.

You were seen as a beloved sister to them as they saw Jungkook as a cherished brother in the Navy.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jungkook reckoned after five seconds.

Namjoon glanced at him, the last one to embrace you. “Jealous?” he teased, reading his mind.

“I am, actually.” Jungkook affirmed. “You three got a better greeting than I did.”

You rolled your eyes at the pettiness of his comment. “That’s because there’s nothing good about seeing you again, Jungkook.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “You wound me, babe.” He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Truly, you do.”

The guys stifled a laugh.

Today’s agenda was supposed to be a catch up session with the three guys. News spread quickly yesterday that you were in town thanks to Hoseok, and given that the three of them were good friends of yours, you didn’t decline the offer when Jungkook informed you that they wanted to meet you while you were here.

So, as the next day came in and the evening rolled, they met up with you at the same resto-bar Hoseok found you in. It did seem like the only venue that was both near enough from the academy and the hotel you were staying at that offered adequate food. You observed that the occupants of the place were composed primarily of people wearing naval aviator uniforms or motorcyclists stopping by before going forth with their ride.

“So,” Yoongi began just as Jungkook headed to the counter, volunteering to relay all of your orders to the barmaid, “we heard from a little birdie that you’re seeing someone else.”

You gave him a look. “Still a big gossip, I see.”

“Oh, it’s not counted as gossip if it’s what Jungkook’s been complaining about the whole time at the showers,” Namjoon humored.

Hoseok agreed with a nod. “It’s what he’s been nonstop yapping about earlier when we were flying,” he said. “Seriously, ____. Release the boy from misery and just get back together.”

They watched you grimace. “You all know my relationship with Jungkook has been long complicated for it to be as easy as that.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Namjoon asked.

“No, of course not.” You scoffed. “He’s an annoying shit for the most part but he’s not a cheater.”

He physically relaxed at the confirmation. “Good, because I don’t think I can beat him in a fistfight.”

Yoongi chuckled. “What’s the matter then? You still haven’t spared us any details on why you’re so keen to divorce him.”

“There’s no particular reason,” you sighed with a throw of your hand. “It’s just a compilation of the small things. He’s away most of the time, I’m away most of the time when he’s available—we fight a lot, argue a lot, it just doesn’t seem to be worth fighting for anymore.”

“So, you don’t love him anymore?”

“I…” you trailed, abruptly feeling like you were being interrogated, “I mean, love doesn’t go away easily. And it hasn’t been that long since we called it quits.”

The three men shared a look among themselves.

You straighten your posture. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What does?” Hoseok queried.

“That look you guys just gave each other. I don’t like it.”

“That’s just their faces, babe,” Jungkook reappeared, taking the liberty to take the seat on your right. “What are you fellas talking about?” he asked his buddies.

They didn’t dare utter a word. You were under the impression that they had an understanding between them that talking about your relationship right in Jungkook’s face was something one should not ought to do.

You, on the other hand, took it as your cue to speak, starting another topic to hopefully erase the previous one. “Ben said he can come. He’s boarding tonight,” you told Jungkook as he’s sipping from his glass of service water.

“That’s good.” He didn’t look as interested as he was yesterday.

“Who’s Ben?” It was Hoseok again.

“The bank clerk,” Jungkook answered.

“The new guy you’re seeing?” Yoongi asked you.

“Yep,” you said before turning to Jungkook. “And can you please refer to him by his name? He’s not just a bank clerk.”

“Is he a boring bank clerk?” Jungkook asked, that teasing smirk flashing on his mouth.

“Will he be here tomorrow?” Namjoon chimed in.

You nodded. “Hopefully.”

“Great,” Jungkook placed his glass down on the table. “It’ll be enough time to get to know him.”

He said ‘enough time’ like his time was limited because it really was. He informed you before you parted ways yesterday that he was graduating from the academy this Friday, and that after that, he was almost 100% sure he was going to be deployed again with some of his classmates for a mission that you wouldn’t be allowed to know the details of. 

Your stomach somersaulted when he told you that.

Somehow, despite convincing yourself that you no longer cared for Jungkook, the thought of his life being put at risk again once he was back on the field made you want to vomit in anxiety. It reminded you that his very dangerous occupation was one of the root causes of your separation, for there were months wherein you couldn’t take the fear of waiting in uncertainty on whether he was going to come home to you or not, regardless of how he promised he would every single time.

It was funny, you thought. One of your similarities with your husband was that the both of you were adrenaline junkies. You and him bonded over extreme rides in amusement parks, activities that got your heart pumping and gave you the sensation of being on top of the world—and yet it was the reason why you didn’t want to be with him anymore as well, too scared to continue loving him if he always sought for adventure and danger through being a naval aviator.

“You knew what you were signing up for, ____,” he told you during one of your many arguments. “You entered this relationship knowing the nature of my job. You can’t expect to adjust for you when it comes to—”

“I’m not expecting you to adjust for me, Kook,” you replied in exasperation, practically begging him to listen to you with an open mind at that point. “God, I just want you to consider me. I just want to feel that for once, you actually remember that someone’s always waiting for you to come home.”

Whenever conversations like that popped back inside your memory, you forced yourself to push it away. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to relive. You’ve spent far too many nights just crying because of how it felt like to be in a constant state of worry for the person you found yourself loving the most.

“We can all meet him, right?” asked Hoseok, looking at the other guys for back up. 

You surveyed them, raising your eyebrows before saying your answer.

“Like the hell you would.”

[777heavengirl]

the one with the walk home

sirius black x reader ! - 1,272 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: no one say anything about how this is a few hours late- also i am scoring close to what i need on my practice exams and i am ECSTATIC

“I love you too,” Sirius looked up at you, as you answered his statement from hours ago. The walk from the hospital had been a silent one until now. After you bid your goodbyes to the new parents, the two of you decided to take the tube back to your flat, his hand finding yours as you walked under the mellow hue of the streetlights. His hand was enough to make you forget any embarrassment from wearing an oversized suit jacket on top of your pajamas through the streets. “just by the way-”

Sirius broke into laughter, brief and fleeting but it left a smile in its place. 

“D’you really?” He shoved you with his shoulder, your arms extending before he pulled you back to his side. “Couldn’t tell,”

“I bloody hope so Black, I’m walking in the middle of the night for you- we might even be too late for the tube by now,” 

“Oh please- Like I’d let anything happen to you,” He said with a wink, a smirk curling on his lips. He let go of your hand, his arm easily taking its place across your shoulders.

“Me and my wand would be just fine without you though-” 

“Ah yes- I forget, you’re quite the bright witch,” You hummed in agreement, a giggle breaking from your lips “Don’t know if Professor McCormack would agree- you nearly blew his head off in defense against the dark arts our last year-”

You tskd in annoyance at the mention of your… small, incident.

“That was an isolated incident- We both know I got better scores than you on all my NEWTs-”

“Only because I ditched like half of them-” You rolled your eyes at him, the only one he had bothered to even show up for was Transfiguration out of respect for McGonagall. Not that he’d ever admit such a thing. “How's mum by the way?”

 You smiled softly at the mention of your mom. Sirius loved the woman. She loved him too, maybe too much. You were thankful for it regardless.

“She’s alright- quite tired, I reckon my dad has been driving her a bit nuts these days-” He hummed in acknowledgment, you kicked a small rock on your bath “Not that he hasn't been driving all of us crazy for years…” you sighed “Sorry-”

“For what?” He looked down at you, and you kept looking forward, leaning your head against his side. 

“I really shouldn’t be complaining about him- It could be worse, he just wants what's best for me I guess-”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn't drive you nuts love- parents are tricky that way”

“It's more than just driving me crazy- nothing’s good enough for the man,” you sighed, rubbing your temple with the pads of your fingers. You went down the stairs onto the tube’s platform “It’s exhausting- I got a job like he wanted, not in magic like he asked me to” You shook your head, fighting the wobble of your lip and the hot tears behind your eyes. “I am trying so hard to please him, the other day he had the audacity to call and tell me that he-” The voice over the intercom announced the last train of the night as you both stopped right before the yellow line. You wrapped his suit jacket tighter around your shoulders. 

“He had the nerve to tell me that he thinks I should go back to school… go to some muggle Uni- to do something useful” you mocked his voice, annoyance ripping through you as your fingers air quoted his words. The train rushed through the platform, cutting you off. The doors opened and you instinctively grabbed a hold of his hand again. “I think- Well, I know- that he wishes I hadn't been a witch at all,” you said as you went inside.

The tube’s doors closed, and you went silent. Sirius wrapped his arm around you as you sat down, the emptiness and silence of the cart hanging over the both of you. 

You thought of your parents. Your mother who had been nothing short of ecstatic when you received your letter at age 11. She even wrote a letter back to Dumbledore, a million questions on the tip of her tongue- thrilled at how exciting everything sounded. He answered every one of her questions diligently. Her daughter was a witch. 

Who would’ve thought?

Your father was another story. You thought of him, the way he never answered your letters from school, it was only your mother. But, of course, he loved you.

You hoped. 

He always said he only wanted what was best for you because he loved you. 

You thought of Walburga Black. A woman who, despite the abuse, still had the audacity to say she loved her sons. 

It took Sirius years to stop saying her torture came from a place of love. 

The train car stopped briefly at the next stop. Neither of you stood to get off. You hoped Sirius was paying attention to the stops as you rested your head against his shoulder. He squeezed your shoulder. 

Your father had never been happy about the turn your life took. Wouldn’t let you do magic in the house even when you were of age. He hated it. He wanted you to go to University. Get a muggle career, a normal career. A normal life.

That wasn’t even mentioning how infuriated he was once he found out you were moving in with Sirius. You could still hear his words in your head, even years later. 

“He’s a good-for-nothing rich kid- he hasn’t lifted a finger in his life and you’re attaching yourself to him like this? With his stupid tattoos and his stupid bike- you’re going to get yourself killed- you’re not even bloody together” Sirius squeezed you tighter to him, you didn’t think he knew what you thought about. “What happens when he gets bored of you? Ditches you for some woman- you are so stupid-”

You didn’t know if you were stupid for it. Your mom was basically planning you and Sirius’s wedding while your father cursed his presence in your life.

You thought of his unpacked bags. 

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at the map of the train lanes. 

3 More stops.

He tried ignoring the way you went silent, he tried for a second to forget the fact that you just implied you never wanted the job in the first place. Was he being crazy? No, well you just said it was what your father wanted. What about what you wanted? 

He knew the man wasn’t the fondest of him. He assumed it was the motorcycle and the tattoos, the pack of smokes in his pocket. Maybe even the smirk on his face. 

Maybe even the way his wife fawned over him.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

He hadn't even considered, that your non-magical father would hate the fact that you were magical. He thought of his mother, the brief flash of her words about how muggles were undesirables reverberating through his head. 

Who would’ve thought? 

So he held you tighter, in silence, because Sirius Black did not know what else to do but hold you tight in his arms and hope that you’d know. 

Hope that you’d know he loved you. Magic or not. Unconditionally, he thought. Jobless or employed. Sick or healthy. Young and stupid or old and wise. 

He loved you. 

He hoped you could hear his thoughts, so you’d know he was in love with you.

Because Godric knows he didn't dare to say out loud. 

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[bleedinwidow]

hiii guys.. long time no see..

!!! : NSFW/SMUT, art donaldson x reader, fem!reader, fingering, car shit i think idk, 2019/new rochelle art

wc; aprx. 950

an; i’ve never actually posted proper smut before and i’m kinda shameful LOL. is that normal for the first time posting? perhaps i’ll post enough to get used to it. hope this isn’t too crappy. also this isn’t necessarily proofread so my bad

You can’t help it.

Driving home with Art post-date night had your mind running wild. Sat in the passengers seat in your little tight dress, thighs pressed close together and your hands in your lap, fingers intertwined with a grip so harsh your knuckles turned white.

Your eyes were only on one thing — Art’s hands holding that fucking steering wheel. Years of tennis practise, holding the racket with a tight grip, working each and every muscle in his long fingers; it really, really paid off. He must’ve noticed about halfway through the ride, because that’s when he started drumming them against the wheel every now and then or flexing them, but not even a glance your way.

Your bottom lip juts out, your head lolling against the car window, lifting with each small bump. Art glances towards you, then into the road and back to you again. He reaches out a hand and places it on your thigh; you flinch, and he pretends not to notice. “You all good?” He asks, his voice soft.

You want to scoff. You almost do. But you bite your tongue and nod, staring his hand down with both irritation and utmost desire. It’s just not fair. You’re seconds away from behaving like a petulant child, stomping and kicking and crying until Art shoves his fingers in your mouth to shut you up.

Anyway.

The car ride back to yours and Art’s apartment drags on. The low hum of the radio does a little bit of good to distract you from your thoughts, but they linger in the back of your mind nonetheless. What a burden. You plot as you wait to arrive at your destination. Lily’s with Tashi this week — hence your date night — so there’s no need to worry about that, and you’re sure you can somehow convince (cough, seduce) Art into giving you what you want.

Pulling into the apartment lobby’s parking, Art stops the car and turns his attention towards you with a gentle smile. “We’re here,” he states, rather obviously, but it’s something sweet about him you find charming. You don’t smile back though, no; you pout, and his instantly fades into a look of concern. You hate that you can’t tell whether it’s feigned or not.

“What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” He questions, undoing his seatbelt to face his body more towards you, reaching a hand out to cup the side of your face. His thumb strokes against your cheek in a delicate manner. You half-grumble, half-whine, and a fond smile curls up at the corners of his lips.

You take his hand, the one holding your face, and guide it to your mouth. You kiss the centre of his palm, your own pressed against the back of his hand as you intertwine your fingers with his. You shuffle, climbing over into the backseat and Art watches, until he’s ultimately tugged there with you and seated beside you.

“Baby? What’s—,” before he can finish, he’s interrupted by the surprise that consumes him as his hand’s guided beneath your dress and against the heat between your legs, the fabric of your underwear a lot damper than he had imagined. His lips part slightly, his tongue running over them to hydrate them, watching his hand disappear beneath your clothing.

“Please? You’ve been teasing me,” you beg softly, and your thighs close around his hand, trapping it there. His eyes flicker between yours and his hand, contemplating, and before either of you know it, the pads of his fingers are rubbing firm strokes against you from over your clothing. You squirm, your unoccupied arm wrapping around his, bringing it to your chest as his hand works against you.

Art slides the fabric to the side, and he’s instantly met with the slick of your pussy. You bury your face into his inner elbow with what could be considered a silent whimper, hips bucking faintly. He watches your face closely as his finger glides through your folds, watching for any change of expression, whether it be the scrunching of your nose or the screwing up of your face.

He decides to delay the teasing; you’ve waited enough. His middle finger feels for your clit, pressing down against it once he finds it. He watches as your hips buck, then begins to draw circles against it. Each puff of breath and small sound that escapes from your lips eggs him on further, and he can’t help but rush.

His finger moves quicker as you squirm more and your noises grow louder, legs writhing and grip around his arm tighter. He can’t help but shuffle closer to you to get a better angle, rubbing against the bundle of nerves eagerly, watching your reactions with fascination.

Each twitch of your legs signifies just how worked up you are, and you’re almost embarrassed how quick you’re about to come — you would be, if you weren’t so consumed by pleasure right now.

“Sh—it, Art—,” are the babbles that pass through your lips as you peak, back arching and body writhing. He slows his movements to guide you to come down, keeping his hand idle but still between your legs. He leans in to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw.

“Feel better?”

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 26. home — ✦ (wc: 0.6k)

notes: trying out a bit of a different style of writing ^^ hope you guys enjoy!

cw: online harassment targeted at reader & characters, self-deprecating thoughts

You’re used to this.

Getting criticism and some hate comments here and there is nothing new for you. It's all part of the business in this industry.

And you haven't gotten this far without having gone through a scandal or two. 

Maybe it’s the storm outside your window, or maybe it’s your melancholia. Maybe you’ve always been like this — hungry for more and more.

Attention. Praise. Love. You wanted all of it and more. You needed it more than you needed air.

All eyes are on you, now more than ever. It's been like this for years.

You should be used to this.

You just hate the fact that you have to drag him down with you.

He doesn't deserve any of this.

None of your friends deserve this.

What were you thinking, agreeing to his deal? You threw him to the wolves and put his private life on display, all to fulfill your fantasies of him liking you back. 

It's nothing but a lie anyway. 

You may be used to hating yourself, but it's a different thing entirely to see the world turn against you.

You deserve this. 

With the rain picking up, you should probably get home soon. But to be fair, it wasn’t raining that hard when you went out.

You probably should have listened to Yoimiya when she said to not go out. The pouring rain drenches you from head to toe the moment you step outside. An umbrella would have been useful, but it’s not like you had the foresight to bring one.

God, it’s fucking cold.

Yoimiya and Ayaka have probably told Scaramouche that you went out. And at this rate, he’s probably worried about you. He really shouldn’t be wasting his energy like that. He shouldn’t be wasting his efforts on you at all.

The fact that he’s going on interviews when you know he hates doing them feels like a weight on your chest, a mixture of guilt and self-hatred that manifested as a storm that mirrored the cold, unforgiving rain as you dragged your feet across the wet pavement.

An umbrella covers you, interrupting the ceaseless torrent of rain and your thoughts.

“Idiot,” Scaramouche says. You can barely hear him over the rain. “Why are you out here? It’s late; something could have happened to you.”

It’s hard to look him in the eye, so you don’t bother. “You shouldn’t have come after me. I’m not worth all your efforts.”

Scaramouche furrows his brow, “What are you talking about? Of course you are. Come on, let’s go home.”

The next words are lodged in your throat, but you keep going.

“Break up with me.”

It’s better this way.

“I don’t want you to have to suffer because of me.”

He shouldn’t have to be dragged down with you.

“Even if I bounce back from this, which I highly doubt I will, this won’t be the last time people talk shit about us. Please, Scaramouche. Leave me while you still can. You don’t deserve any of this.”

He’s silent for a moment. Unmoving. You’re bracing yourself for his response when he moves closer toward you.

“I’m not going to leave your side. Not when you need all the support you can get,” Scaramouche says, cupping your face with his hand. His hand is so warm. A welcome change to the cold of the rain. “And I’m sure as hell not breaking up with you.”

“We don’t even know if public opinion will change after your interviews are published,” you argued.

Scaramouche nods. “I know. But I still wanted to try and help you in any way I could.”

Against all odds, Scaramouche presses closer to you and wraps his arms around you. Against all doubts, you bury your face into him. He only holds you tighter.

“You will always be worth the effort,” he says softly. “And even if the world hates you, you have us. You have me.” 

Scaramouche takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. You have a feeling he won’t let go any time soon. You hope he never does.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

my favorite chapter to write by far ^^ hope you guys enjoyed!!

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

[measuredingold]

i’d walk through hell for you

authors note: saw that best friend!noah is all the talk right now and decided to finally free this from the drafts. inspired by a walk through hell by say anything :) there will be a second part that’s already finished and will be posted next week ! i’m not sure about a third lol as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.1k

cross posted on ao3

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, heavy anxiety, best friend!noah, Noah Is A Nightmare But He Can’t Help It, reader is a sweetie and loves their friend and wants to make it better, oh eventual friends to lovers btw, 18+ minors do not interact

You haven't seen him like this in a long time. You can't even remember the last time he allowed you to see him like this, on edge, snippy with fucking everyone, and down right a fucking nightmare. You thought he had gotten that under control, at least from what he’s told you, but the scene before you lets you know that may not be the case.

For the most part. He could be worse, you think.

You've seen him far worse than this plenty of times, yet it still makes your stomach turn in an unpleasant way, and there's a foul taste settling in the back of your throat as you step into his room.

“Hey.” You say quietly, making your presence known.

“Hi.” He doesn’t even bother looking up at you. Your chest tightens.

“Jolly says you’re being a nightmare,” Noah snorts at your words, but you know he doesn’t find it that amusing. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

Your heart breaks as your best friend finally looks up at you, the bags under his eyes and the permanent frown on his lips feeling like a literal stab to the gut. You drop your bag by the door and slowly make your way towards him.

"I can't fucking..." He sucks in a deep breath as he throws his arms towards his computer setup in the corner in his room, eyes narrowing. "This one part in the song I showed you last week. It doesn't sound right. I've messed with it for days, even sent it off to Jolly and even he can't fucking get it to sound good and, " He rubs a hand down his face, "I have to send it by tomorrow night with like four other songs. The others are fine but this fucking one..."

"Sebbe. Breathe."

He does, one long shaky breath, and you're finally looking closely enough to realize his entire body is shaking. Your anxiety kicks in then, alarms sounding off in your head because you know where this can lead. You've seen it before. Your legs take you over to his bed that he's sitting on, joining him. You make sure to keep some space between the two of you, not wanting to overwhelm him more than needed.

"I just don't know what's fucking wrong with me. Like, why can't I figure this out? I did the thing, I took the break. Came back with a clear head or whatever but all I did was fuck up the song even more to where Jolly can't even fix it and-"

"Noah."

He stills at your voice, lazily dragging his eyes towards you. He looks so tired. You know him well enough to know the break was a good fifteen minutes before he sat his ass back in that chair and clearly worked himself to the ground. You know that he's probably only slept a handful of hours in the last few days, and you fucking hate that. He struggles with sleep as is, so you know the stress of this deadline isn't good for him at all.

"Listen to me, okay?" You say slowly. Noah just blinks at you. "Send it off the way it is. You've done your best, but if you keep messing around with it with this nasty attitude, it's not going to get any better. Make sure to make a note on why the song might sound unfinished, mention that you've been struggling."

"But-"

"I'm not finished." His mouth snaps shut. "Tell Jolly you sent it off and that you guys will work on it later. These are just supposed to be demos, right?" It takes a second but Noah eventually nods, somehow looking even more tired than he did seconds ago. "Then there’s no reason for it to be perfect, anyways. Just go on to something else and then go back to it when you don't feel so... negative."

The silence after your words makes your stomach turn, Noah slowly blinking at you. You know your words are registering in his mind, but they’re melting away. He's going to only hear one part of your speech, and it's the part about sending an unfinished song to his label. The unfinished and not perfect song which is unacceptable in Noah standards, and you can already make out the frown that's beginning to form on his lips.

"I have to finish it."

"No, you actually don't."

"Yes, I actually fucking do." He bites out.

You know he doesn't mean it, to be snippy with you, but that's what happens when he's like this. Irrational, says things before thinking about them. You can't stop the way you flinch, though, grimacing at the way it hurts when he throws his anger at you. His frown only deepens, sadness etching itself over his face.

"Sorry." He mumbles, head tilting down. "I just... I need to finish it. I can't just send it off the way that it is. That's not good enough."

"Demos aren't supposed to be good. That's why they're called demos. It’s the rough draft.”

"You don't get it." He groans out, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his head in his hands. "I just... I can't do that. You know I fucking can't. It's gotta be perfect, because if not-"

"You feel like a failure." You finish his words for him and watch the second his shoulders drop.

He doesn't respond, doesn't even take his hands off his face. Instead he just nods slowly.

"Noah..."

He remains silent next to you but you can hear the way his breathing has picked up, a lot shakier than it had been seconds ago. The hands that were sprawled across his face were shaking again and this time you don't bother keeping your space, scooting closer to him.

You're deliberate with your actions, hand reaching out to slide off the beanie on top of his head. You let it fall, hand now smoothing down some of his hair that was messed up by the hat. You're quiet when your fingers gently card through his hair and you do it a few times before your nails scratch at his scalp, slow and gentle.

It takes a second, a lot longer than you actually expected, but his breathing begins to even out. His hands are still shaky, though, and he still has yet to even pick his head up. You have a feeling of what's running through his mind, and you so desperately want to crawl inside there and throw it out yourself. Fill his head with better thoughts and rid him of the mean ones he's sifting through currently.

Your hand drops from the top of his head, instinctively pushing a fallen strand behind his ear before sliding your hand down to the back of his neck. Your fingers apply a good amount of pressure there, gently rubbing out the tension. You hear him sigh out, the noise muffled by his hand.

“Talk to me. What’s going on up there, bub?”

"This is all I have." He finally says after long minutes of silence, voice sounding strained.

You frown.

He continues, "The band. Music. It's all I have. All I'm good at. I can't... it has to be perfect, you know? If it's not..." He sucks in a shaky breath and your fingers dig back into his neck. "If it's not perfect, I don't know how much longer I'll have this. One fuck up and... and this all can be..."

He doesn't finish his words, but you know what he was going to say.

This all can be taken away from me.

Noah confided that fear to you so many times, but each time you're reminded of it it's like a part of you dies. His fear of losing everything at the snap of a finger is something that haunts him and has stayed with him for as long as you could remember. No matter how hard he tried to run from it, to know that things don't always end and can't be taken from him so easily, it always seemed to come crawling back.

"It's not going to be taken away from you." You say in a small voice, scooting even closer to him. Your legs are pressed together now and you don't stop rubbing at his neck, hoping to relieve some of the stress.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." Your fingers stop but your hand doesn't move. "Noah, look at me."

A beat passes before he's finally removing his hands from his face, slowly turning his head to stare at you. Somehow the bags under his eyes have darkened in the few minutes you've been in here with him, and it seems like that frown on his lips is permanently sketched there.

"You've gotten this far without it being taken from you." You start slowly, thumb now brushing against the side of his neck. "You're good at what you do. Everyone knows that, and everyone knows that you're not perfect. You don't need to be perfect. We all have bad days. One song that isn't sounding like you wanted isn't going to be the be all end all of your career."

"But what if it is?" He sounds so small, voice shaking with fear of the hypothetical what if and all you want to do in this moment is gather him up in your arms and never fucking let go.

"It isn't." You press. "This has happened before and guess what happened? Nothing. Nothing was taken from you, and life went on as it did."

Noah just blinks at you. You stare back at him, pressing your lips together as you mull over your next words. You're not sure if what you're telling him is getting through that head of his and you're not sure what to do next. You think he needs to take a break, a much longer one, and needs to get out of his room. Probably the house, too. Away from the problem to clear his head.

"Hey," Your thumb keeps brushing against his neck and something warm spreads across your chest when you feel him melt into the touch. "How about you come over? For the day. We go back to mine and just watch some Naruto. I haven't finished it yet."

His blank expression is soon replaced with something similar to pain and his eyes dart from your face to the corner of his room, where his set up remains. You reach up with your other hand without much thought, cupping the side of his face to turn him back towards you.

"Noah."

"I..."

His eyes dart back and forth between your face and his computer, and you can almost physically see the battle happening in his head. The need for perfection. The need for control. His hands start to shake in his lap again and your thumb brushes against the top of his cheek, trying to pull him back to you.

"Just for a few hours. A couple episodes, that's all. Just to get you out of that head of yours, then we can come back here and you can finish up that song."

A compromise, but it's enough to have that pained look on his face to fall for just a moment, body relaxing under your fingertips.

"Okay." Noah breathes out, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. " A few hours."

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, that warmth from minutes ago settling across your chest again.

"Thank you."

He doesn't reply, just blinks at you again and gives you a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. You're not sure you got through to him, but maybe he was exhausted enough to not care anymore. Whichever one it was you'll take it, as long as it gets him away from that computer and hopefully out of his mind.

He's quiet when gathering his things, lingering by his desk when he saves whatever song it was giving him a hard time before shutting the computer down all together. He doesn't say anything when you leave either, silently following you through the house and to your car. It worries you every time he goes quiet like this, but you know it's the exhaustion from his anxiety finally catching up. And probably the minimal hours of sleep he's gotten in the last few days. Still, you hate it.

The only sign of life from him was when he bopped his head to a random song in a playlist you two created together, adding random things in there from time to time. You can't remember the name, it's one of his songs you think, which is confirmed by him humming quietly in the passenger seat next to you, scrolling through his phone.

Noah still hasn't said a word by the time you reach your apartment, and doesn't bother saying anything when he gets out of your car, shuffling behind you. You try to hide your worry as you unlock your door, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Make yourself at home."

He makes a noise in response, a quiet hum, toeing off his shoes before making a beeline for your couch, sinking immediately into the cushions. You smile at that, watching as he gets comfortable in your space. It wasn't always like this, when the two of you first became friends, but after years of growing closer, your space was almost like his. It was nice to know he trusted you that much.

"Have you eaten?" You call out to him, making your way around your kitchen. He doesn't look up from his phone.

"No."

You glare at him, but he still isn't looking. "Noah."

"Wasn't hungry." He brushes it off before pausing and finally looks up from his phone, exhaustion evident in his features as he stares at you. "I'm kind of hungry now, though."

"Yeah?" That relaxes you a bit. "I got some leftover pizza in the fridge if you want some."

"Sure."

You try to ignore the way he still sounds so... small. Barely there, like he's off in some other world. You busy yourself with fixing a plate for both you and him and make sure to pour him some water in the biggest glass that you own, knowing damn well he hasn't had a sip in hours. You bring the plates in first, setting them on the coffee table in front of your couch before going back to retrieve your drinks. You hand his cup to him, narrowing your gaze.

"Drink."

You don't miss the way he rolls his eyes but takes the glass from you without a fight, taking a slow sip. You feel like you can breathe easier now knowing that he's drunk something, and is going to eat something soon too, and you finally settle onto the couch next to him, pulling your legs up under you.

The two of you sit in silence as you mess around with your remote, trying to figure out which streaming service had Naruto on it. It had been a while since you watched it, and you knew you had to finish it. Noah's been bugging you for months, maybe even years, so now's a good time as any to start it back up.

"I can't believe you still haven't finished." You’re surprised he’s said a full sentence, words muffled around the pizza in his mouth.

"I'm trying." You whine out before taking a bite of your pizza. "There's just so many episodes."

He snorts. "You haven't even gotten to Shippuden yet."

"...You're telling me there's more?"

You look at him, head tilted and eyes wide. Noah takes in your expression and laughs, the real breathy one he does when he thinks something's ridiculous. That warm feeling in your chest returns and suddenly you feel something similar to pride fill you, being the reason behind that laughter. His lips twitch into what you think is supposed to be a smile, shaking his head.

"Dude."

"You didn't tell me there was more!"

"Yes I did! I literally told you that this was part one, and then Shippuden was part two."

"I literally don't remember that at all." You grumble out, rolling your eyes.

"You could've already been on Shippuden if you'd just watch it."

"I forgot, okay?" You cry out, which only makes Noah laugh harder. "Fucking sue me."

"We're finishing this." He says matter of factly, relaxing back against the couch. "The goal is to finish both this and Shippuden by the end of the year." You give him a crazy look, brows furrowing, and he laughs again. "Okay. How about we at least start Shippuden by the end of the year?"

You think about it for a moment before nodding your head, taking another bite of your pizza. "I think I can manage that."

He smiles for real this time, small but it's real, and you smile back.

"Deal."

One episode turns into two, two turns into three, and somehow three turns into you almost finishing the season you'd been on for the last few months. You've finished your pizza by this time and Noah's been resting his head on your shoulder for the last three episodes now. The light from outside is dimming, and you know you should probably take him back home. You've kept him here much longer than he agreed to, but he hadn't said anything, just kept saying to play the next episode. He was finally relaxed and seemed to have finally forgotten about the song, at least for the moment.

And selfishly, maybe a part of you wanted to keep him here, pressed into your side for just a little longer.

The episode finally comes to an end and you go to ask if he wants to watch another episode, but a soft snore interrupts your sentence. You blink down at Noah asleep on your shoulder, face pressed against you and mouth open. You probably should be a little disgusted at the way he is most definitely drooling on you but instead you feel... endeared. He feels safe enough to sleep around you, and that feeling in your chest returns.

You reach for your phone next to you, typing out a text to Jolly that Noah had fallen asleep and you'll bring him back whenever he wakes up.

Thank fuck. He's been on nightmare mode for the last three days. He needs this.

A moment later another message from him comes through.

Thanks, btw. I don't know what he'd do without you, and quite frankly, me either. ❤️

That feeling in your chest blossoms into something you can't quite explain, a smile stretching across your lips. You send back your response before tossing your phone onto the couch and you rest your head against his, pressing your body closer to your best friends.

You're not sure what you'd do without him either.

[jeonscatalyst]

Whenever I see people scrambling to dismiss the possibility that Jimin and Jungkook might be more than friends by resorting to arguments like “They’re brothers” or “Jimin said Jungkook is like his brother,” I can’t help but feel perplexed.

It’s genuinely baffling to me because, what did you expect Jimin to say? “Jungkook is my lover”? The lack of awareness in such arguments is striking, and honestly a little disheartening especially when it’s clear that many of these people haven’t taken the time to understand even the basics of queer history, the reality of being closeted, or the necessity of concealing relationships to protect oneself and loved ones in the face of societal prejudice.

When people bring up these points, I find myself asking the question “When did Jimin and Jungkook officially come out as a couple?” The answer, of course, is they haven’t. So why would anyone expect them to act in ways that are only possible for people who are openly out? If our (Jikookers) speculations about them are correct, it’s likely they are still closeted and may even be hiding their relationship from close friends and family.

This opinion might be unpopular, especially among jikookers who believe that if Jimin and Jungkook are together, their families would undoubtedly know. But I don’t think it’s that simple. In my experience, coming out isn’t an easy or universal process. It’s deeply personal and often influenced by cultural, familial, and societal factors, particularly in environments where homophobia is pervasive. I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty of why I think their parents and families might not be looped in because for many, unless you’ve lived it, known someone who has, or experienced such societal pressures firsthand, it’s difficult to fully grasp the complexities involved……..So I truly don’t see them letting their parents and families in on things as easy as many people believe it would be.

I think Jimin and Jungkook present themselves to the world as they believe the world sees them: bandmates, friends, and “brothers” from the same town. This aligns with public expectations and offers them a layer of protection. So how else would people expect them to describe their relationship?

Some might argue that they could avoid using terms like “brother,” altogether but let’s be realistic here……it likely doesn’t bother them. They know they’re not actually brothers and probably don’t view each other in that way. What’s more, I doubt they have any desire to let the public into the deeply personal aspects of their lives. While there may be a part of them that wishes to be accepted and loved for who they truly are, they likely understand that this isn’t a viable option right now.

The fear of opening a Pandora’s box of judgment and backlash likely keeps them from revealing anything beyond the surface. If calling each other “brothers” or even something as absurd as “father and son” ensures the safety of their bond, they’ll do whatever it takes to protect themselves and their relationship. That, unfortunately is what closeting sometimes entails so before you rush into my inbox thinking you’ve got a gotcha moment, remember this.

I hope people come to realize that this situation is far more complex than it seems. It’s easy to oversimplify or underestimate the challenges Jimin and Jungkook and other closeted people in homophobic societies might face but it’s crucial to remember that not everyone shares the same privileges or cultural realities. Not every society or culture is as accepting as yours might be. Not everyone has the opportunity to live their truth openly and without fear. You may not understand their choices, and you might not even relate to their struggles, but that doesn’t give you the right to dismiss or minimize them simply because their experiences don’t mirror your own.

Empathy and understanding are essential. Respect the fact that their journey, whatever it may be, is shaped by circumstances most of us can’t begin to imagine.

[dragongirlpoet]

Saturday

Nanami Kento x you

Summary: A meet-cute. A first date. A night of promises. As Nanami and you get to know each other better, will he score a second date? (Kento daddy is the gold standard, never settle for less, girlies 💙)

Themes: Romance, angst, fluff I Words: 3.2k

Warnings: MDNI. Sexual tension/suggestive, brief mentions of blood

Scarfing down your dinner — filet mignon of the finest A5 Wagyu, seared to a perfect medium, — you all but failed to notice the very dapper, and most certainly very handsome, 6 foot-tall man seated right across from you. 

He had been staring, and for a long while now, the ever eager manner in which you’d been devouring your meal. Looking up at long last, you swallowed your delectable bite of protein. God knows when was the last time you had an exquisite fare such as this. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” you questioned, tone carrying such innocence he could only smirk. 

Nanami needed this. Much of his prime expended on battling curses and mulling over mundane tasks as a corporate salaryman, this dinner date, this first date with you, was a genial reprieve from his woeful professions. 

“You’re ravishing tonight,” he grinned through his compliment. 

Really? After gluttoning out like a starving animal? His words were teetering between the borders of flattery and genuine praise, one in which you had trouble deciphering, but you accepted the courtesy regardless. 

“Thank you, and you look…really good in that shirt. Most men don’t bother these days.” 

You look like a sculpted God, was what you meant to say. But you digressed, lest you presented too off-kilter. As his arms shifted to slice through his steak, biceps pulled taut in the process, you were suddenly struck with the realisation that he was the actual feast.

You looked away before your mind could venture into dangerous territory. 

“Is that so? It’s the bare minimum, no?” Nanami asked, genuinely baffled by what he seemingly considered the norm. 

“You’d be surprised how sloppy some of them are…” you deadpanned. 

“Then they don’t deserve you.”

In a miserable attempt to make up for the very unbecoming way you had chomped down your dinner, you paused in between delicate sips of Merlot, half surprised at his remark. Sweet nothings again?...Ugh, stop overthinking! 

Had you not been too busy hanging onto his every word, perhaps you would’ve noticed the way his heart fluttered a beat, the subtle swallow in his larynx and the yen in his gaze — a result of your slight, sensual parting of lips, satin flesh stained scarlet by wine.

“You’re very sweet, Nana...” 

“But you think I’m bluffing. You think this is some paltry ploy for me to swindle your love. Whatever less than stellar men you’ve dated, I assure you I am not.” 

Nanami’s reply floored you. 

His dark russet eyes searched yours, pleading. In truth, he had been nothing short of sincere —  though wildly aloof — since you two first met.

Heaps of burgundy and gold had framed the pathways, blanketing you in a lulling autumn foliage. You sped over bridges and cobblestones, hopeful that the sprint would mean you’d only miss 5 minutes of the bread-making workshop.

“Miss, the class started 30 minutes ago. I’m not responsible if your bread turns out unfit for human consumption. Take that counter over there.” The head baker, a greying and most ill-mannered Obasan, ordered after you’d finally arrived, eyes glaring at you with utmost displeasure. 

You scoffed internally, softly cussing, stumbling to your assigned spot. As you scrambled to gather the ingredients, you soon realised it was a shared counter, with half-emptied bags of flour, oiled-up baking trays and egg shells scattered all over. A bottle of red food colouring lay tipped over, crimson liquid dripping off the table, pooling at the floor like baths of blood. It reminded you of an undercover mission that had you witnessing a gruesome murder…

“Hi, excuse me, do you mind moving your stuff?” you pressed to the blond man hunched over the oven. Ignoring you, he continued scrutinising his bread, brows furrowed in fervent concentration. “Sir? Hi, can I move them over?”

Silence.

Wholly fed up with his impertinence, you decided to shift them yourself. Is every baker this rude? At that rate, you’d be fortunate if you so much as got to take home a wet chunk of dough. No sooner had you grabbed the tray than a big set of hands firmly clutched yours. 

You gasped in shock, tray slamming onto the table with a loud “clang!”, once again drawing unwarranted attention. 

Glowering at you with more intensity than he did his bread, Nanami, or so his name tag suggested, spoke in such hushed cadence you were momentarily immobilised. “Don’t you know it’s rude to touch someone else’s belongings without permission?”

“I…”

Nanami awaited your response in unnerving indifference. Mildly annoyed you’d only managed a stammer in place of a confident retort, you searched frantically for a clever comeback. If you were honest, you were thrown off by just how attractive he was…

“Cat got your tongue?” Nanami cocked his eyebrow, his expression wry.

“I asked. Nicely. Twice. You chose to pretend…” you struggled to free your wrist from his grip, “...not to hear me.” He at last released your hand. 

“If you’d taken the courtesy to be on time, perhaps we both wouldn’t be wasting precious seconds arguing like teenagers.”

“You talk an awful lot for someone who doesn’t know what it’s like to be on job standby everyday. You’re probably a spoiled brat living off a trust fund with too much time on your hands. Why else would you be here? In a class for retirees and overtaxed women? I worked overtime today! That’s the reason!”

Panting for breath, you were both impressed and appalled at your outburst. Yes, you were absolutely spent from work. Driven into the ground, when you’d much rather be pounded into a mattress… — such was the nature of a journalist. Countless “newsworthy” incidents to report, infinite places to go, yet aught a moment for yourself. 

Nanami remained reticent. He simply watched as you tried to simmer down from your diatribe, and after a long minute, alas moved his ingredients without so much as a trifling twitch in his mouth. 

Refusing to waste another second, you resolved to opening your bag of flour, albeit with too much force — the powdery contents entirely emptied, erupted — onto your partner’s face when he’d crouched down once again to hover over his bread.

You wished the earth would swallow you whole. 

“I…I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

Nanami would’ve very much liked to use his Curse Technique to topple your milk, drench you in vegetable oil, teach you an invaluable lesson…but his remarkable mastery over his emotions hindered him so. 

“I’ll compensate for your class…I’m really sorry!”

Sucking in a long breath, he closed his eyes, undeniably ruffled. 

“Just…”

“Okay, I get it, I’ll leave now.” 

Resigned to the cruel fate of having the worst day, you hastily gathered your possessions and dashed out of the studio. 

The crisp autumn air provided little succour from your humiliation following the day’s events. You were on the verge of tears. A therapeutic evening you’d been looking forward to, all ruined due to the most absurd of reasons. 

Padding softly on fallen foliage, you whisked your phone out of your work bag, hell-bent upon procuring at least one nice thing. You gazed at the ageless Ryokans — perched so gracefully atop the Kyoto hillside, adorned with the carnelian of fall — and snapped a slew of photographs. Despite the day’s disaster, you’d wanted to forever etch the beauty of the countryscape in your mind. 

Contented with your last shot, you lowered your camera, only to be greeted by the chalky and stoic face of the man you’d just offended. 

“What…” taken aback at his sudden appearance. “I already apologised, what do you w…”

“You forgot your scarf.” 

You stood dumbfounded and in disbelief over his gesture, despite what you’d done. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, hmm, thank you.” 

Nanami continued standing there, hands now rigidly tucked in his trouser pockets. He had his coat over his ivory cashmere turtleneck.

An awkward silence befell between you both.

“Aren’t you going back in? Your bread might be ready soon,” you probed.

“It’s already burnt. No point.” 

You felt terrible, but words eluded you. Nanami broke the silence this time. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Your hand. I…didn’t mean to be so rough.” 

“Oh, I’m fine really…” you mumbled as you fished out three 10,000 yen notes. “Here. For ruining your bread…and face.” 

That was a costly mistake…

What lingered in front of you was the most aggrieved of faces, even more so when you’d violated his bread. 

“Is this an insult?” he demanded, expression irate. 

“No? I promised I’d pay you back.” 

“Then make up for it another way…” Nanami collected himself before continuing, “let me take you out to dinner”

What? 

With the incredulous turn of events still ruminating in your mind, you swirled the last of your Merlot, savouring its cherry undertones. Despite his perplexing behaviour, you were drawn to Nanami’s gentlemanly charm. Surely but a fool would pass up on his unexpected offer…

On the other end of the table, Nanami had thought him a fool for having almost missed the opportunity to ask you out. Beautiful, smart mouthed and a perverse loathing for work — you had him in a chokehold, you just didn’t know. 

Surveying the ardour in his eyes, you remarked, “you’re a strange one, Nanami. First you look at me with disdain, now you’re beguiling me with honeyed-words…can you really blame me?”

“If tonight isn’t enough to attest my sincerity, then perhaps I’ll have the good fortune of taking you out again?” he smirked, clearly pleased with his sly response. 

You beamed. “Sounds very much like you’re the one with a debt to pay…”

Rummaging through your purse for lipstick, you, being the fumbling, blundering oddball that you were, lost grip of it, the leather and its contents strewn over the floor in a quick second. You reached to retrieve them, but found Nanami already crouched on one knee, your purse in his hand. 

With your body bent and him on the ground, both your eyes were levelled. An erratic pulse arose in your chest as he picked up the last item — your house keys, positioned just an inch away from where your stiletto heel was. His gaze, restless and pining, trailed up the black sheer of your stockings, fawning over the way it hugged your silken skin, wishing so terribly he had his face buried beyond the slit of your dress…

A long minute passed when he alas tore away from his fantasy, handing back your contents.

“There you go, my lady.”

The night ended with Nanami escorting you to the restaurant elevator. He had spared no expense at extravagance — a 3-Michelin Star located at the 77th floor of a swanky hotel. As he led you into the compact lift, as with most things in Japan were, a group of diners conveniently entered as well. The both of you were abruptly ushered to the back corner of the lift, your body pushed up firmly against his. 

With a “ding!”, the doors shut, sealing both your fates of having no escape from the forced proximity. You tensed up, wholly aware of how your body was flushed against his, so close that you could make out the bergamot undertones of his cologne. His breath, otherwise hitched, was warm and unsteady above the shell of your ear.  

Nanami was a man of exceptional self-control. But your skin, ambrosial with notes of tuberose, so utterly soft and yielding, was skimming his every desire, teasing, taunting... His psyche went mad, culminating in a growing ache in his pants. 

He thought about running his hands through your hair, brushing them to the side, just so he could lay the gentlest of kisses down your nape. He envisioned sliding the straps off your shoulders, relishing in the way they slipped fluidly down, just so he could inhale the pheromones buried under your skin. Most of all, he imagined gripping the corners of your thighs, your plush flesh pliant in his hold, just so he could fucking rip that dress off…

“What a beautiful couple…” a middle-aged lady blurted to you, grin reaching the corners of her eyes. She nudged her husband with her elbow, insisting how in love you two looked, and how he ought to take her out on more dates.

“Oh, thank you, but we’re not…”

“Thank you, Ma’am, I’m very lucky.” Nanami interjected before you could finish. 

You forced a smile at the older couple, left hand secretly smacking Nanami’s as a way of umbrage at his lie. He seized your fidgeting hands, locked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer in. You stifled a gasp, now fully sentient of the hard bulge below his belt. 

Heat flushed your cheeks crimson, and were it not for the loud chatter amongst the guests, your thunderous heartbeat would have betrayed your seemingly calm demeanour. 

Wanting to chastise him with your stare, you tried to turn. 

“Face the front.” 

You obeyed almost instinctively. The rasp and power in his delivery, combined with his possessive grip, sent you quivering somewhere between your thighs. 

—-------------------

The elevator doors opened to reveal the long walkway to your apartment unit. At that point, your calves and feet were aching from the arch of your stiletto, with blisters forming at your toes. Beauty is pain, right? Hobbling out of the lift, you clutched onto Nanami’s arm for support.

“Hang on, my feet…I can’t…” You squat down, about to remove your heels. 

“Stand up. Let me.” Nanami responded, hauling you up gently.

Let him what?

In one swift motion, the Jujutsu Sorcerer scooped you into a bridal carry, your body snug against his very firm pectorals. You yelped out in surprise, scream reveberating off the hollow corridor — he seemed to have a penchant for catching you off guard. 

“Do you want to wake your neighbours?” 

“You could’ve warned me first!”

Striding languidly as if you weighed nothing, Nanami continued past the row of units. Yours was the last. “I’m just trying to ease your discomfort, princess.”

A blush burgeoned on your cheeks at “princess”. Gallantry always seemed to shadow his nonchalance, and he did it well. A mere evening, and already you had been intimately close to him twice. 

Making it thrice, you hooked your arms around his neck, fingers lightly touching the fuzz of his hair. Your sudden willingness to ease into him threw him off, his step surreptitiously losing cadence. Nanami turned to look at you, entirely enraptured by how breathtaking you were up close. 

For a moment, it was as if nothing else existed outside the both of you. Nanami and you —  transient in a deviant dimension of time, your entwined warmth the only anchor in a malevolent universe.

You so wanted to prolong the moment of that gaze, but he’d already reached the end of the hallway. “Is this it?” Nanami asked, setting you down on a stool you had beside your door. 

“Yupp. This is me. Nothing fancy.” As you finished, the ceiling lights flickered off, casting the both of you in shadow, and within seconds flittered back on again.

“You should really get someone to fix this,” he added, concerned.

“I have. They’re just taking their own sweet time…” Oftentimes, the condominium management was the bane of your existence.

Sensing your frustration, Nanami crouched down. He wrapped his hands around your ankles, working to unbuckle your straps as though a practised skill.

“Nanami, you don’t have to…”

“I want to. It’s the least I could do seeing how exquisitely you dressed up tonight.” 

Your heartbeat ascended to a hammer when he ran big, calloused hands over your calves, fingers kneading into your aching muscles, working his way ever so treacherously up the back of your knees. 

“Does it feel good?” Nanami pinned you with his stare, as if a silent dare to answer his very parlous question. 

Every nerve in your body went taut, your being mindless, save for the heavy breathing you realised too late. 

“Are you alright?”

“I…yea..I’m…thank you for tonight, Nanami,” you composed, “I had the best time,” relunctantly moving your legs away to stand up.

“It’s so nice to have a normal night for once. No crazy stories, ghost sightings…people disappearing into railway tracks…I deal with enough madness at my job.

And I like you, stockbroker. You make me feel sane, and seen, and you know what it’s like to be overworked.” You beamed into Nanami, who was now towering over you without your heels. 

There was such tenderness in the way he beheld your admission, but something else gnawed at his heart. A sinister, uneasy truth he wasn’t yet ready to share — being a Jujutsu Sorcerer was far from normal.

“Oh, I wanted to ask, how do you have such quick reflexes? Maybe you can teach me. I want to ward off creepy men,” you scoffed, turning to unlock your door. 

Perhaps it was for the best your back was to him, for Nanami’s words caught in his throat, his face laden with guilt for the lie he was about to tell. It had been a long time since he had felt so happy, so like himself…and he wasn’t about to throw it away.

“I…uhm…am trained in martial arts. Particularly Karate. Black belt.” It was a twist to his gut, but the thought of losing you was inconceivable.

“No wonder I feel safe around you.” At that, you tiptoed, aiming to kiss his cheek goodnight, only for your lips to reach the bottom of his jaw. Nanami clamped up at the unexpected contact, his disposition sent into absolute anarchy.

It was an accident, but you let your kiss linger on, feeling the slight stubble of his aftershave, dropping your lips intricate inches down his neck, feeling the bobble of his swallow…

And you stepped into your apartment. 

“Goodnight, Nanami.”

“When can I see you again?” He pushed against your door, impatient. The last thing he wanted was to come off too audacious, but you’d awoken a fire in him he never knew existed. 

“Uhm…I don’t…”

“Tomorrow?” Nanami pressed.

“That’s just a few hours from now,” you laughed, entirely endeared by his earnestness. 

“The day after? Monday? Tuesday? Wed…”

“Saturday, Nanami. I’m free Saturday.” 

You were radiant. You were ecstatic. You were…falling in love?

Nanami mirrored your glow, the bridge of his nose now a glistening scarlet. He was grinning like a child promised with the delight of dessert — a very lovely, and a very dulcet treat.

Taking your hand to lay saccharine kisses, he let himself tread into dangerous waters once more by grazing his lips over the insides of your wrist, inhaling your sweet perfume, clinging onto its grace. It was a scent he’d forever enshrine in his heart.

“Goodnight, princess. I can’t wait for Saturday.”

—-------------------

Pacing back to his navy Maserati GranCabrio, Nanami was basking in the afterglow of rapture. He had already been musing where to take you with the promise of Saturday, his chest rippling with the rush of possibilities. 

Elsewhere, a hostile gospel slipped past the sorcerer’s daydream — uninvited, sudden, threatening. It brought along with it a grim vestige — 

Nanami had told a harrowing lie.

[stickyspeckledlight]

“…..allow me to ask, how the fuck did you both manage to break into my house, yet alone find a way to come to my world, Jade and Floyd Leech?”

But, where else can we find a thing so interesting?

Note: I can’t decide if I should use shrimps or koebi-chan so….idk comment on which one I should use for future Floyd stuff lol. Also first time writing any yan twst! Let’s hope I get it right lmao

(Speckled's End of Year Interaction Prompts, 12/2/24 ~ 1/1/25)

“Oya,” Jade exclaimed, “What strong language, [Name]-san. And after all the struggle we went through to see you again?” He simpered, sorrow every bit as faked as his surprise, “I’m deeply hurt.”

Unlike Jade, Floyd didn’t bother with theatrics. “Aha! Koeeeeebi-chan!” Floyd cried out, laughing with pure merriment, lunging toward your person. You shriek, dodging his initial lunge, but Floyd is unfairly reflexive and fast. Before you can so much as sprint, your limbs are already being squeezed in his hold. You gasp breathlessly, struggling to even breathe with how tightly he’s holding you. The sloppy, messy kiss Floyd gives you immediately doesn’t help matters either; it’s all spit and possessiveness, tongue practically going down your throat and teeth sinking into your lips.

From where you struggle and choke, Floyd only squeals with even more delight. “Squeeeeezeeeeeee~ Koebi-chan’s soooo soft,” he laughs, rubbing his cheek against your head, all crushing softness and joy, “I missed having you around, y’know. Leaving me with all those boring guppies—” and his voice drops, and his head dips into your neck, “—I probably should kill you for doing that to me,” he mutters, sharp teeth grazing your skin. At your tensing and shivering, he only breaks into more laughter, mood swinging back into perverted joy.

“Floyd, be careful with the dear,” Jade lightly chastised, “The poor thing looks like they’ll faint at any moment now. It’d be a shame to end things as quickly as they started, no?” His words are far from kind, far from concerned, even. They are ever bit as pleasured as Floyd’s laughs, and serve only to remind him that there’s more fun to be had from this.

Floyd doesn’t immediately let you go, but his hold lightens enough to where you can breathe steadily enough. “You feelin’ better?” Floyd sweetly asks, like he wasn’t the one who put you in this state in the first place.

You attempt to free yourself, but even in Floyd’s loose(r) hold, there is no escape. Floyd doesn’t even seem to struggle at all, yawning even as your flails grow more desperate. Floyd looks at your wall and zones out, his interest in you momentarily waned. Jade lightly chuckles at your plight.

You growl in frustration, “At least answer my questions!” You seethe, glaring at them both and baring your teeth, “I thought we were done. I thought I would be rid of you! So why are you here to torment me again?!”

You had met Jade and Floyd after exams, when Azul’s plans to take Ramshackle for himself were underway. After his overblot, you thought you were free of the twins torment of you, but they only kept pursuing you—without any directive from Azul whatsoever. It made every moment from the on in Twisted Wonderland unbearable, and when Crowley found a way for you to come back home, you took it at that instant. Sure, it was a bit cold to leave behind everyone without any goodbye, but who could blame you? Fault you? It wasn’t like everyone else there wasn’t selfish either, all in their own ways.

Even when you weren’t in Twisted Wonderland though, the twins haunted your dreams. They fed into your paranoia, your refusal to make friends, to love and kiss and be a silly student—it took you years to rip yourself from their influence, but you did it. You built a life for yourself with your own hands, and even Jade and Floyd Leech could stop you.

Until now, that is.

In classic Jade fashion, he finds an avenue to easily avoid giving answers. You might never get those answers, at this rate. “Torment? You must be mistaken,” Jade tsks, “As I recall, we gave you only the best; as ‘lovers’ do, I might add.”

Indignity flares in your chest. “Bullshit! You threatened me and my friends! Isolated and stalked me!”

“Hah?” You violently gasp, having the air knocked out of you. Your eyes bludge; your tongue lolls; your ribcage compresses like it’s cheap plastic beneath Floyd’s arms. “Those anemones were better company than us?” Floyd darkly mumbles, before laughing again, “Then again, you left us before, so you’re pretty stupid. Your opinions and stuff can’t really be trusted anymore.”

As if he ever cared before.

Jade doesn’t chide his brother this time. He lets out an appreciative hum as you truly choke. A gloved finger delicately rests on your cheek bone, before more are added to cup your cheek. As your vision spots with black, you are only caressed. As your eyes beg for mercy, mercy that anyone dying would beg for, only a chaste peck is given to your bloody lips. As tears of pure fear for the life before you and the sheer despair of losing everything again stream from your eyes, only laughter, one gently cruel and the other excitably sadistic.

“It would be an issue if you found out how we arrived here,” Jade finally answered, playing with a strand of your hair. “As Floyd so graciously pointed out, your decision making process cannot be trusted at this time.”

As if they ever would.

“Worry not, [Name]-san,” Jade grins wider. It’s not a nice smile; his teeth peak from it, and that’s always been a sign that he’s ready to take a bite from you. A sign that, as you quickly predicted, has him dipping his face against your juglar. “You’ll want for nothing in our care. Even this ‘freedom,’ you so cherish…”

He darkly chuckles.

“We’ll make it so it won’t be something they want for much longer, right Floyd?”

Laughter consumes your world before you completely succumb to the pressure, fated to wake in captivity for the rest of your life.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Gift From the Heart

Warnings: noncon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: As you adjust to life on your own, the retired Sheriff makes sure that you're kept comfortable.

Character: silverfox! Lee Bodecker

Day Thirty of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - a homemade gift.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pull the cardigan around your middle and cross your arms. The wool hangs loosely with your linen dress, tenting around your figure as you pad to the front door. Your hand hovers for a moment before you grip the door knob. You hope it’s not Mrs. Griswold again. She’s friendly enough but nosy. 

You open the door and put on a smile. It turns genuine as you see your visitor. You shiver as the wind gusts around his figure and tickles your stockinged legs. 

“Sheriff,” you greet, “how are ya?” 

“Checkin’ in. Again,” he drawls as he takes his hat off and tries to tidy his hair with his pudgy fingers.  

The gray strands are coarse but thick, a bit longer than he can manage. His beard too. You suppose retirement has done away with his need to stay close shaven. 

“Oh, Mr. Bodecker, you are too kind. Ya know, I’m doin’ just fine. Makin a stew of the bone from that ham you dropped off last week,” you say. 

“Sounds delicious. Now, ain’t no type of thing as too kind.” He grins and tucks his hands into his leather jacket. He’s not the sheriff anymore but he still wears that sort of authority. “’specially this time of year.” 

“Course,” you agree thought your smile twitches. You should be happy but when the carolers come by, you only feel like sobbing. 

“Maybe not the best this year,” he comments. “Ya know, Buford, he was a good man. Rookie when I left the force but high hopes for that one. S’too bad what happened down in that ravine. Worse how’s all yer neighbours can do is whisper ‘bout it.” 

“I don’t hold it against them. They got their own lives, sheriff.” 

“And ya got me, huh?” He kids with a chortle. “Ya know, I hate to bother since you got the stew and all but I did come to give ya something. Be a lonely year ‘round the tree for ya so I thought I’d get ya a special gift.” 

“A special gift? For me, sir?” You touch your chest, keeping your other arm over your stomach. His eyes flick down but you’re sure he can’t tell through the layers. Right? You’re waiting until the new year to deal with all that. 

“Mhmm, yeah,” he once more tries to smooth his hair. “Ya know, I can’t really give it to ya here. But if you’re too busy--” 

“I can leave the stove off for a time,” you say. “Who am I to say no to a gift? Sheriff, really, you didn’t have to do all that. You’ve done enough.” 

“Someone’s gotta. Used to be, people took care of each other. An officer dies and his widow’s left to her own,” he tuts and shakes his head. “Wouldn’t be happenin’ if I was still wearing the star.” 

“You’re too sweet,” you sway. 

“Go’on, get a coat,” he says and puts his hat back on. “Don’t wanna be freezing out in this.” 

“Sir,” you nod. 

You leave him on your stoop and go to turn off the stove. You cover the pot of broth then hurry back. He went to all this trouble and you wouldn’t want to keep him out in the cold. You pull on your coat with the patch sewn in the chest and tuck your feet into your lace up boots. They aren’t very warm on their own but they’re what you got. 

You emerge, the sheriff catching the screen door and holding it until you shut the inner door. He lets it snap behind you and offers his arm. He’s so gallant in an old-fashioned sort of way. 

“Don’t want ya to slip, miss,” he says. 

You accept his offer of balance and descend the narrow steps to ground level. He takes you up the walk and opens the passenger door for you. He kept his cruiser but had the emblems removed, painted it a nice forest green. You sit on the front seat and keep your knees together as you chatter through your teeth. 

He closes the door and you watch him lumber around the hood. His breath fogs before him as he puts his face down against the bitter gusts. He climbs in next to you and takes off his hat, laying it on the dash. He turns the engine and cranks the gears with the shifter behind the wheel. 

“Ya cold?” He waves you closer, “c’mere, takes a while for this thing to warm up.” 

“Oh, sir, I’m alright,” you assure him. 

“Mmf,” he grumbles and cranes to check the road before he pulls out. “I don’t like ladies goin’ cold on my watch.” 

“Sheriff,” you preen. 

“And ya know I ain’t got the star no more, you just call me Lee,” he insists.  

“Yes, sir, uh, Lee,” you agree, clasping your hands in your lap. 

He drives, offering some chatter about the barn cat haunting his porch window or some episode down at the hardware store. The sheriff, Lee, has always been good at talking. At making people feel comfortable. It’s probably why he was so good at his job. 

“I wanted to show ya this,” he nods over the wheel. 

You come up to the river, the surface crystalline as it’s frozen over entirely. The icy sparkles in the dulled sunlight hidden behind the blanket of clouds. You lean forward to see it all, the edges framed with a dusting of the snow that pillows over the ground. 

“Oh, wow, that is pretty,” you say. 

“What can I say? I got an eye for pretty things,” he chortles and shifts in his seat. 

You stare out, marveling at the pristine and peaceful landscape. You didn’t know there were scenes like this in Knockemstiff. To be fair, you hadn’t paid much attention where he was driving. You peer back through the rear window and see dark sentinels speckled around the winding road. 

“So, ya ready?” he asks. 

“Sir,” you flinch and look at him. 

“For your gift, honey,” he feels around his jacket, tucking his hand inside as he pokes his fingers into the pocket there. “Ya know, don’t got no criminals to chase so I got some new hobbies.” He plucks out something he quickly hides in his fist. “Keep myself busy.” He keeps his hand balled. “So I made ya a little present for the holidays.” 

“Oh, sheriff—Lee, I don’t got nothing for you though.” 

“Think ya do. More than ya know,” he opens his hand and shows you the silver ring. You blink as you examine it, confused. The emerald on it is square and pretty big. “Took me some time but I wanted to have it done before Christmas.” 

“That’s... not for me,” you utter. 

“Sure is,” he holds his hand out as you shake your head. 

“I can’t accept that,” you lower your chin and pout. “It’s too much.” 

You touch the ring on your finger, the one Buford gave you. You were going to be married when he got his promotion. That was coming soon, he said. Then he went off and got himself shot. 

“Here,” he grabs your hand, untangling it from your other, “you know, I made it special for ya. It’d be rude not to.” 

You try to tug away but he’s too strong. You gasp as he wiggles off the ring already there and replaces it with his own, shoving it down until it bites into your knuckle. You hiss and wince. 

“Sheriff, that’s my ring,” you squeak. “Buford--” 

“I know what it is,” he lets you go and cranks down the window. You cry out as he tosses ring into the snow. “It’s a bad reminder.” 

“No--” you try to lunge over him and he catches you, forcing you back to the seat. 

“Now, honey, you haven’t been ungrateful, so don’t start now,” he holds your shoulder, squeezing it tight. 

“But--” 

“Can he help ya now? Hm? Now ya got that bun in ya? Now that yer alone and about to be all big?” Lee grits. You recoil but can’t escape his grasp. 

“You know?” 

“Well, course I know. Makes sense. And the way you been walkin’ round. I can tell,” he tuts. “You’re just lucky I'm the only one payin’ attention.” 

“Sheriff,” you murmur. 

“Now, I don’t want none of that from ya no more, I told ya.” He trails down your arm and grabs your hand. He pinches the ring between his thick fingers. “You call me Lee. Or Hubby. I like that. ‘Hubby’.” 

You blink at him and shiver, this time, it isn’t from the cold. 

“Go’on, say it for me, honey. Just imagine what other would call ya when they find out.” 

You frown and flutter your lashes. Your nose tingles and your chest knots with futility. He's right, but you’re not ready for this. You were waiting, until after the holidays. Why couldn’t he wait too? 

Your eyes gloss over and you sniffle. He tightens his grip on your hand until you whimper. You look at Lee and suck back your grief. It shouldn’t be him. It shouldn’t be the way it is. 

“Yes,” you croak through your coarse throat, “yes, hubby.” 

[billiesgoodgirll]

Hiii! I absolutely love your fic School Regression<3 if you’re comfortable, could you write a fic where fem!little regresses and throws a tantrum when Billie has to leave her to do sound check/get ready for a show/ go on stage (whatever you decide) and Finneas tries to comfort her backstage/ in the green room, maybe she falls asleep on him. I would really appreciate it<3

of course i can angel! i hope you enjoy <3

this is as age regression chapter, don’t like it simply don’t read !

upset

“wan mama!” you cry making grabby hands up to billie, who’s panicking greatly as she needs to be on stage in 20 minutes.

“i know you do baby, i know,” she bends down and picks you up, holding you closely in her arms.

you let out a loud cry gripping onto her shirt tightly, terrified she’s gonna let go.

“oh my love, hey hey hey it’s okay mamas here,” billie desperately tries to calm you down, she can’t go on stage with you like this.

“okay sweetheart, i need you to be a big girl and listen to mama can you do that?” billie very gently says, to the crying y/n.

“u..uh huh,” a broken whine, billie barely registering it as a word.

“oh good girl, well done,” billie kisses your forehead,

“mama needs to go on stage in 15 minutes, so i need you to be my best girl and go hang out with finneas in the green room for a little while whilst mama sings,” billie very carefully explain to you, as your face falls into one of horror.

“no! no! mama no go, pease.. need mama!” you shriek, a death grip on billie’s show outfit.

you let out heartbreaking sobs, choking on your sobs and kicking your tiny feet on the side of billie.

“baby no kicking,” she gently reminds which only makes y/n cry even harder.

“sh sh sh, you’re okay angel mamas right here,” billie tries and soothes her.

it’s only 10 minutes until she has to go on stage.

“honey mama really, really needs to go,” billie pleads to the very upset girl.

“don’t you want to go play with finneas?” she asks gently, hoping anything will calm her down.

“no! n..need- mama,” she cries out, her sobs breaking billie’s heart.

“okay i need you to take some really big deep breaths for me my love, can you do that?” billie coos softly, placing y/ns hand on her chest so she can feel billie’s slow breathes.

y/n nods her head unsure, taking in a big very shaky deep breath.

“oh sweetheart mamas so proud of you! that’s it keep going,” billie encourages, proud at her baby for calming down slightly.

after y/n is breathing normally and her cries are reduced to small sniffles billie sees she only has 3 minutes till she has to be on stage.

she walks into the green room quickly but calming to not bother y/n, who was resting on her chest in her arms babbling away to herself.

she walks in to see finneas on the couch they have inside,

“hey fin, i’m so sorry to spring this all on you and i know you have to be on stage in a minute too but please can you look after y/n i need to be on stage in 2 minutes,” billie rambled out quickly.

finneas immediately stands up, “of course i can billie, don’t worry about it at all here give her to me get on stage i’ve got her,” he replies, as billie hands y/n over to him.

she whines at the loss of contact with her mama, making grabby hands back too her.

this action completely shatters billie’s heart as she knows she needs to leave, she leans down and kisses y/ns forehead.

“bye baby, mama will be back so so so soon, i love you,” she coos before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

y/n instantly is brought back to tears as she watches the back of her mamas long black hair walk away, she sets out a sob as she squirms around finneas’s arms.

“it’s okay y/n/n, mama will be back so soon,” finneas tries his best to reassure her.

it’s no use as y/n just wants billie, she needs her mama.

she lets out another heartbreaking cry, kicking and squirming to get out of his arms and run towards wherever billie went.

“oh kiddo, you’re okay i’m not letting you down until your calm,” finneas says gently, holding y/n just a little tighter.

“need mama!” she gives up trying to get away and just melts into his arms, shoving her face in his chest desperately trying to seek comfort.

“that’s it kid, breathe you’re okay, you’re safe,” finneas coos, bouncing her up and down trying to calm her.

“w-wan.. binky an’ b..bunny pease,” y/n hiccups in between her words, her crying stopping slowly but tears still roll down her face.

finneas nods and moves across the room to her little space bag, inside its full of everything she needs and multiple notes from billie about what to do in certain situations.

he retrieves y/ns pacifier and her beloved stuffed bunny, he hands them to her and she immediately stuffs the pacifier in her mouth trying to soothe herself.

she hugs her bunny tightly and cuddles into finneas more, a tell tale sign she’s getting tired.

“i think someone’s sleepy hm?” finneas smiles at y/n, making his way over to the couch he gets out his laptop.

“seepy, wan seep pease finny,” she babbles her eyes getting heavier and heavier.

“that’s okay kiddo we can sleep, would you like a bottle?” finneas bounces y/n up and down again gently.

“has baba?” she smiles a toothy grin, finneas mirrors her smile and walks over to her little space bag grabbing a bottle.

he walks over to the little kitchen they have in the green room, opening the fridge he takes out the milk and pours some into the bottle.

he then puts it in the microwave, y/n watching with wide eyes and waiting patiently for her beloved baba.

once the microwave pings! finneas takes it out and checks the temperature,

“baba pease,” y/n makes grabby hands to the bottle.

“okay silly, let’s go sit down first,” finneas laughs heading back over to the couch, settling with y/n comfortably in his lap.

he hands her the bottle and she eagerly takes it, making little sucking noises and gulping noises as she drinks.

“do you wanna watch something kid?” finneas asks, y/n nods her head,

“ ‘es pease finny,” she babbles still fully fixated on her bottle, he chuckles and opens up his laptop putting one of y/ns favourite cartoons on.

after watching for a while finneas looks over to y/n, seeing her eyes drooping and the grip on her bottle falling loose.

he slips over her bunny stuffed animal and replaces the nearly empty bottle with a pacifier, he rocks her slightly helping her fully fall asleep.

it’s only a matter of time before billie walks through the green room doors, sweating and very worn out from the show.

“hey fin,” she says quietly, seeing your asleep in his arms she smiles fondly.

“hey bil, good show?” he asks genuinely, part of him guiltily he couldn’t be up there with her.

“yeah it really was tonight, how was she?” billie asks, the question she has been dying to ask the whole time.

“she was overall so good, she was very upset and distraught when you left but once i calmed her down i made her a bottle and we watched some cartoons she fell asleep,”

“oh thank god, she really is an angel,” billie smiles gently at the sleeping y/n.

“here bil, take her,” finneas gently manurers himself, so billie can very carefully take her out of his arms and into hers.

y/n stirs slightly, whining quietly.

“sh sh sh mamas here baby,” billie whispers fondly.

y/n briefly opens her eyes to look at her mama, along hearing her voice and lets out a sleepy smile cuddling into her chest her little arms wrapped around billie’s waist.

“good girl, you can sleep you’re okay angel,” at her words y/n falls back into a peaceful slumber, in her mamas arms.

where she’ll forever be safe.

[fee224]

real man

Rafe Cameron x Barry’s twin sister

Warnings: possessiveness, defined relationship, public sex, bitchiness??

MASTERLIST

You loved having rafe as your boyfriend. He was like no man ever before. He could be possessive without wreaking of insecurity. He always knew what to say, mean and nice, usually the latter to you and saved his mean behaviours for anybody else.

He never told you he liked you and then tried to mold you into another girl. You were still the same girl and yet his feelings were still growing, amongst other things.

Youre arms were secured tightly around his neck as you straddled him on his balcony furniture. He was man spreading which forces you to be scooted up further onto his pelvic area. You were sharing a blunt and it was currently resting between your lips. He was holding you steady with both hands palming your ass.

The cold evening breeze was settling and you could only smell a mixture of smoke and the sea.

You leaned your elbow on his shoulder to remove the cig with your hand and place it on the coffee table next to sofa.

You exhale into the air slowly bringing your lips to rafes as you hear multiple girl voices below the balcony.

“Cmon! I’m not even sure if he’s home but god I hope so” you pull away at the high pitched voice, your eyebrows raising.

“Oh my god, that fucking whore better not be here, I can’t stand her.” A malicious smile creeps onto your face as you press a finger to rafes lips as he opens them to speak.

“I hope he’s so fucking high he thinks he’s dizzy when he sees two of us” and then it clicked. The chipa twins. you rolled your eyes internally. They were clearly here for sex, be careful what you wish for.

You stand up in between rafes legs as you pull him up of the couch. You hear knocking on the door below and giggles, while you try to contain yours. You bend yourself over the brick wall and lifted your skirt up to reveal your purple thong, only for rafes eyes, which are greedy.

You turn back to his pretty, amused face “rail me baby” you blink up innocently. As his grin widens he slides your thong down your legs.

“Fuck me real goodd” you tease, dragging out your syllables as you giggle to yourself. Already feeling the urge to moan loudly from simply his presence behind you.

“Pretty fucking pussy” rafe compliments dragging a finger along your entrance before grabbing your hips and sinking deep inside you.

Instead of biting your lips so Barry wouldn’t be able to hear from the next room, or so rafes employees wouldn’t get him fired on the spot from the noises coming from his office, no instead you let a loud whining moan.

“Fuck baby” rafes fingers press deep into your fleshy waist, rolling his head back in pleasure.

“Mmmmm rafe please” you practically scream as he thrashes into your sweet hole repeatedly.

Two angry, greasy haired brunettes come thundering out onto the path leading up to the door, staring up at you getting railed the shit out of, over a balcony.

“You’re such a slut!” Chipa 1 stamps her foot down on the ground, and you giggle as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“don’t you have a bed?” The other ones hands placed firmly on her hips looking up at the obscene view of rafe loosing control of himself inside you.

“If I didn’t, you’d share yours, very charitable in that respect, or is that to just literally any boy who looks in your direction” you scoff, screaming down at her.

“Whatever we are so going” chika 1 practically drags the other one of the lawn as you smirk content with yourself, pulling yourself out of rafe and turning around towards him.

“let’s go take a shower baby, im all hot and bothered” you smile sweetly up at him.

- fee xxx

[sunfloweraro]

Writing requests! Anything that involves Legend getting tickled by Wild, really. (Or the other way around!) 🤭 Perhaps Wild wants to try giving Legend a massage like he’s had done in Gerudo town… only to find out having had it done for him before does not mean he’ll be good at giving one? 😆

Thank you for the request! The silliness is perfect. I decided to combine all elements of your request and have Wild trying to give Legend a massage to help him relax, only to discover Legend is extremely ticklish. Legend gets his revenge >:)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Wild insisted. “I know what I’m doing.” To a degree, at least, but Legend didn’t need to know that. He was meant to be relaxing, after all. And Wild had had a dozen massages in Gerudo Town before, knew his session like the back of his hand. How difficult could it be to replicate?

Legend hummed, still uncertain. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not that—”

“You snapped at Wind earlier. Wind. He was just checking in on you.”

Legend offered no answer, though his face fell. “Right… I still owe him an apology.”

“And you can give it later. Wind understands. Now relax already and lie down. This will help, I promise.”

Legend breathed a sigh, but acquiesced, settling down on his front, head resting over folded arms. “Fine. If only to stop your incessant whining.”

“I’ll let that slide because I know you’re stressed. And you’re meant to let your arms hang, otherwise your back will be tense.”

“Tenser than it already is?”

“Legend.”

“Fine, fine.” Legend shifted so his arms now hung from the edges of the makeshift massage table Wild had set up—a few quilts spread out over Time and Malon’s dining room table.

“Good. Now just relax and let me take care of you. The goddesses know you need it.”

Another sigh from Legend, and he began to relax into the quilts. Giving his trust to Wild. Where he would normally take the opportunity to tease their Veteran, today he let him be, knowing doing so would only make Legend more tense.

“Okay. This will be warm,” he warned, before grabbing the saucer of scented oil, heated by Hyrule’s magic earlier, before Wild shoved everyone else out of the room. He dimmed the lantern alongside it, hoping Legend might drift off while he worked and get some proper rest. He always looked so exhausted these days, and sleep would do him good. Carefully, he poured a little of the oil over Legend’s back, lips twisting when his friend stiffened. “Relax.”

Legend grumbled something to himself that Wild didn’t bother trying to process. He shoved his sleeves back and set to work massaging the oil into Legend’s terribly stiff back. At the touch, Legend stiffened, holding his breath, and Wild rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how you intend to relax like that,” he grumbled. Legend said nothing, letting out a shuddering breath instead.

Wild continued to work the warm oil into Legend’s back, turning his attention to his shoulders when he felt how tense the muscles were there. “Breathe,” he had to insist several times, only to be met with a shuddering breath, before Legend tensed up all over again.

As he was working the tension from Legend’s lower back, pressing down and gliding to the side as his masseuse did for him, an odd, choked sound escaped Legend. Wild paused. “Everything okay?”

A shuddering inhale. “Fine.”

Wild took him at his word, continuing, only for Legend to flinch away from his touch, that same choked sound escaping him, muffled this time. “Vet?”

“It’s—fine. I’m fine.”

A third time, Wild attempted the action. This time, Legend failed to stifle the giggle that escaped him as he flinched away from Wild’s touch.

A devious idea formed in Wild’s mind. Something that would help relax his friend faster. “Hey, Vet?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sorry about this.” And then he attacked. Legend’s sides seemed the most sensitive, though he had been stiff and trying not to laugh the entire massage, Wild now realised. A shriek escaped Legend as Wild attacked his left side, and he tried to jump away. Wild latched onto his waist, held him close as he tickled with a fervour he hadn’t felt since he was a child, a similar delight sparkling within his insides, golden and warm.

“No! Stop!” Legend begged, breathless as he laughed. His eyes were crinkled in a way Wild had never seem them before, laughter making him look closer to his young age. “Please!” Wild ignored him, attacking his other side and tearing another shriek from Legend as he tried to flinch away, peals of laughter escaping his friend—and were those tears?

“Relaxed yet, Vet?” Wild asked, a menacing smirk lifting his lips. A little longer, then he would free his friend.

Except he faltered as he spoke, and Legend wasted no time in pouncing on him. The breath was knocked from his lungs as he fell to the floor. Legend was quick to straddle him, still laughing and teary and gasping for breath, though the glint to his eyes promised nothing good. He locked Wild’s arms above his head with one hand, power bracelet glinting in the low light.

Wild gulped. “Vet, we can talk about this.”

“No—no need to,” Legend panted, and then it was Wild’s turn to suffer. Wild wasn’t nearly as sensitive as Legend, but anyone would burst into laughter when a feather was suddenly pressed to their too-sensitive armpit and twisted every which way.

A high shriek escaped him, and then he was laughing. He bucked, tried to kick his way out, but Legend held fast, revenge giving him inhuman strength. “N—no, please!” Wild begged between peals of laughter.

Legend smirked, teeth and all, and attacked his other armpit with the feather. Wild laughed harder, could barely breathe as teared streaked down his face. “Say you’re sorry.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Truce, please.”

“That’ll teach you,” Legend grumbled, though the smirk on his face remained. He shifted back, offered Wild a hand and helped him to his feet. He tossed the cucco feather aside, and Wild kicked it away as he swiped at his still-streaming eyes, taking in gasping breaths as he tried to collect himself.

A beat passed between then, where Legend looked far too smug and more relaxed than he had been in months. Despite his suffering, Wild couldn’t help but smile at the job well-done.

“Feeling better?” he asked, giving Legend a knowing look.

Legend rolled his eyes, if only for show. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Vet. But… Perhaps not like this next time. I don’t think my heart can take that again.”

The menacing grin Legend gave him in turn made Wild’s blood run cold, and he knew he would be sleeping with a knife for the months to come.

[bb8banner]

au WIP I have buzzing in my head where their breakup goes a little differently, Tommy never actually proposed to Abby but they were together for a long while. Buck spirals, self-sabotages. Sadness ensues.

...

Buck stared out the passenger seat window of Tommy’s truck as the blur of cars and street lights whizzed by. He hasn't spoken a word since they left Miceli’s and Buck had turned his body out and away from Tommy. Tommy was focused on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other by Buck’s side, slack and inviting, hoping Buck would join his hand there, but he didn't. Tommy turned the radio down, and Buck could feel his eyes on him at every red light, but he couldn't turn to face him. His thoughts were racing and he felt almost like crying. For months, Tommy was his, solely his. Now, from one night to the next, he shared him, and with Abby of all people. Buck was nauseous, and it wasn’t from the overindulgence of beer and dessert. Tonight was supposed to be special, romantic, it was supposed to be about them, so why? 

Fuck. Why?  

“Evan, you okay?”

Buck was pulled from his reverie then, he finally turned to face Tommy, if only slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Tommy shrugged casually. “You’ve been quiet since dinner and, I don’t know, I feel like you’re upset.”

“I said I’m fine!” He huffed out, too harshly.

Tommy wasn't having that. “O-kay, now I definitely feel like you’re mad at me and I don’t know what I did to upset you.”

“Can we not do this? I don’t want to fight right now.”

Tommy's eyes shot wide incredulously. “Who said anything about fighting? I thought we had a nice dinner. I had a great night with you, but I can’t read your mind. If I did something wrong, you have to tell me Evan.”

“Just drive, we’ll talk about it later.” 

Tommy took a shallow breath and steeled his gaze on the road, but Buck glanced at both his hands on the steering wheel now, grip firm and white knuckled. Tommy was irritated now, great.

Buck knew he was being difficult, stone walling Tommy. He knew it wasn’t fair, but how could he bring up what actually upset him at dinner. He racked his brain trying to figure out how to make sense of his own thoughts, let alone tell Tommy about it. Hey so you know back at our anniversary dinner when you dropped the atomic bomb of being with a woman named Abby for years, three whole fucking years. Oh and remember when you said you thought about proposing to her, but you pulled the plug when you realized you couldn't commit, you ‘just couldn't do it’ and you left and broke her heart? Oh yeah, and remember when you said that thing about how she went nuts after you left her and she took up with a himbo half her age? Well what do you know? It was me! I’m the himbo! What a coincidence right!? 

How the fuck was he supposed to just casually bring this up? So when Tommy finally parked the truck on his street, he didn’t bring it up. Instead the truth caught on his throat like a proverbial frog. 

“So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?”

Buck’s words spilled out like word vomit, and he couldn’t contain the half truths that raced out. “Back at the restaurant, when that girl came up to ask me to take those pictures, you said it was fine for me to look? I just, why would you be okay with that, you wouldn't get upset if I check out other people?”

Tommy’s face twisted in confusion. “What? Evan it was nothing for me to be upset over, she was flirty but harmless and I don’t expect you to magically stop looking at women just ‘cause you’re with me, i’m not naive.  Like I said, it’s fine, harmless.”

“Oh harmless, like you checking out the waiter?” Buck regretted it as soon as it came out, but he couldn't take it back now. It’s not like the waiter wasn't hot, he had been. Buck might have even checked him out himself, just a little, but that wasn’t the point. This argument wasn't even the point, not by a longshot. 

Tommy’s eye roll was practically audible. “Evan, seriously? I literally saw you check out his ass when he walked by, it’s fine. It doesn’t have to mean anything, people are hot, you look, it’s normal. I was there with you, my drop dead gorgeous boyfriend, I was there with you. There’s no need for jealousy.”

“Yeah well, I got jealous, so sue me. Maybe I'm not as evolved as you.” Evan pouted, and Tommy couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Okay Evan, real mature.”

“Oh so now you’re patronizing me? Great, just what I fucking need right now.”

“I don’t know why you’re trying to bait me into an argument Evan, but I'm not going to fight with you tonight, I wanted to have a nice night with you.”

“Yeah? Well it’s too late for that.” Buck said as he flung himself down from the truck and slammed the door shut in a way he knew would piss Tommy off.

“Evan, stop, wait-”

Buck walked faster, trying to make it to the gate of his building. Trying to shake his racing thoughts, trying not to face Tommy with those fucking earnest eyes.

“Evan, please, baby slow down, why are you being like this? Just talk to me.”

Buck whirled around, enough to jar Tommy in his path, and he felt Tommy's hands grip his waist but he couldn't look up to face him, never to face him. “Tommy just… just drop it. I don’t wanna talk, I just want some space. I need… I need a break.”

Buck could feel Tommy’s tense, his hands dropping from Buck’s waist and back to his own sides, hands balling into fists before diving into his jean pockets. Buck could have sworn he heard Tommy’s breath hitch. “A break… a break from this conversation or… or, a break from us?”

What am I doing? What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing? Talk to him. Talk to him, just talk to him. Buck’s guilt ate at him, gnawing at his chest like locusts ravaging a field.

“Evan say something, please.”

 “I don’t know, I don’t know just give me some time I’ll call you in the morning.” 

“Evan…”

“I’ll call you in the morning, I promise.”

Buck left Tommy standing in front of his building, shocked and confused, much like he had been left after their disastrous first date. When Buck got upstairs, he stood, catatonic in the kitchen for what felt like hours. Tonight was supposed to be special, romantic. By now, he’d otherwise be curled up in Tommy’s arms, warm in his bed with Tommy’s body firm against his own. Instead, he was throwing up into the toilet as the cyclone of thoughts whirled in his head. Thoughts of Tommy in Abby’s bed, of them in each other’s arms, for years. For years before Buck was even in the picture. Did Tommy break her? Is that what made Abby noncommittal? Is that why she’d left him, ghosted him, leaving him pining after a woman who’d run off like their relationship hadn't mattered? Like he’d never even existed? Was Tommy the catalyst?

I hear she went a little nuts after I left, took up with some himbo half her age.

Fuck.

The thoughts were whirling again. It’s me, i’m the himbo. You hurt her, and then she hurt me.

When Buck slipped into the bed that night, his sheets smelled faintly like Tommy. Tommy who’s slept over the night before. Tommy who’d held him through the night, legs tangled and arms pulled tight against each other's bodies. Buck hugged his sheets against himself as he fought the urge to open the unread text messages from Tommy.

Tomorrow, he’d figure out what to say, how to say it. Tomorrow he’d apologize, he’d explain. Tonight, he let sleep take him so he wouldn't cry anymore.

[ksbbb]

Light Up the Sky

Josh coughs up dirt, his nose and mouth filled with the scent of a metallic substance, pulling him out of the darkness and freeing him from his shallow grave.

There’s other chimeras‘ around him and he forces himself to stand, still feeling the pain of the wound on his chest, wondering if he’s dead or dreaming.

“What’s going on, who are you?” Hayden asks, bringing to light the confusion they’re all feeling and Josh sees the smile on the other chimera’s face.

The one the dread doctors were so proud and eager to work on. Josh remembers his name as Theo but he never bothered to worry about anyone else.

“I’m your Alpha and you all belong to me.” Theo smiles, walking away and the rest of them follow along, because there’s nothing else to do.

—————-

Josh is going out of his mind. He can’t get a fix like he used to. Whatever those doctors did to him made him immune from any kind of disease, or any response to brain altering substances.

What a damn shame. He’s so bored and the rest of the chimeras’ don’t care or seem to question this ”alpha” thing.

Theo comes up behind him, the same arrogant and hard headed smile on, that he loves to flaunt.

“You shouldn’t have brought me back! I can’t feel anything anymore.” Josh seethingly says, the electricity running through his veins and he wants to use it, needs to use it, and take this guy down a peg.

He just isn’t sure how.

“What? Can’t get your fix?” Theo laughs, a cruel and unusual way to show his power and the way he feels about Josh’s struggles.

Josh growls, feeding off the power of the electric current thrumming through him, but failing to grasp his own power and use it effectively.

“I got an idea.” Theo says, grabbing a hold of two jumper cables and handing them to him.

He doesn’t like this guy or trust his attempts at giving them a thread of his friendship, the cynical attitude of Josh and his horrible upbringing making it too difficult to keep a positive outlook on anything.

What reason would this chimera have to be honest with them? He’s too into his appearance and his personal vendetta against this McCall person.

“Ready?” Theo turns on the engine to his truck, waiting for Josh to experience the awe and excitement of realizing what he’s capable of.

It’s a rush, a thrilling feeling of unbridled confidence, and it’s a whole lot better than anything else he’s done or experienced.

Josh laughs, the electric coursing through his body, and the pull of it in his fingers, of what he can do, is just the taste he needed to bring him back to life.

He’s soaring and ready for any chaos or disaster Theo wants to bring.

——————

This was a stupid plan and now Corey is burnt to a crisp from that hellhound, but does Theo care? Probably not, and as much as Josh wants to leave him in the dust, he has a sense of responsibility and connection to the other chimeras’ like him.

He won’t leave Corey behind. Not even when Theo’s nowhere to be found and probably off somewhere with that Stilinski guy, trying to get his plan together.

“Help him!” Josh looks pleadingly at Kira, hoping that being a part of the McCall pack has given her some sense of decency and empathy for another person.

Even if the person was going against their views.

“You first.” Malia says, eyeing them with nervous glances, and he’s left between a rock and a hard place. What other choice does he have?

Josh holds onto the cables and uses all of his strength and power he can, to give them what they want, to keep them from leaving Corey behind to die. A chimera who’s the best of them. Not because he’s the most powerful or the most important, but because he’s the only one who’s still held onto his humanity in some way.

Sure, Hayden has too, but Corey wants to help everyone and that’s a rarity these days. He won’t let him be taken down like this. For the likes of Theo’s or Scott’s purposes.

Once Josh has done what it is they wanted, Kira helps Corey too, and he’s given a second chance at life.

It eases Josh’s anxiety and burden. He has succeeded in keeping Corey alive and that’s more than he’s done in his life before all this weird stuff happened.

Corey smiles at him, and he doesn’t know what to think but he smiles back, feeling almost relieved. It’s not a feeling he’s felt often. Maybe when he was a kid or when he died, but then he was brought back for some ulterior motives of a coyote.

Josh’s life story is quite the odd one.

———————-

“What’s that?” Tracy asks, fearful of Theo’s crazed mind and the helmet he’s holding, a little too tight and too far away from his own body to give Josh any real reason to trust his motives.

“It’s how we’re going to find the beast.” Theo explains, looking at it with such sheer confidence and determination.

“So you’re putting that thing on?” Tracy asks, nervous and exchanging a glance with Josh.

“I’m not. You are.” Theo smiles, holding it out towards Josh, not giving any thought to his feelings or reservations about putting on a helmet they know nothing about. They barely know how to use it or what it’s for.

“I’m not putting that on.” He says, cowering at Theo’s hard stare and he wasn’t expecting to be so worried about this chimera.

The thing is, he’s seen Theo’s willingness to do whatever he can to achieve his own agenda. Josh doesn’t really know what he’s willing to do to him if he refuses.

After some hard and frustrating points from Theo about killing Josh if he doesn’t do what he’s told, he places it on his head.

He’s never been so afraid of anything in his life. The unknown, the fear of what could happen, simmers in his heart and overtakes his mind.

Of course, when Theo does what he knew he would, killing him in cold blood and leaving him to rot, it’s poetic and tragic.

Josh’s life story.

Only…..

—————

A cold and scattered feeling hits him, piercing his throat and he coughs up the same metallic taste as before, only this time it’s less daunting. Less painful.

Josh is in the dark and he doesn’t know where he is, but there’s a loud, sputtering heartbeat next to him. Riddled with fear and anxiety.

He has to shake his head a few times to clear his vision and when he does, he sees a frightened person in front of him, eyes wide with a frozen feeling of terror.

“Who are you?” Josh finds himself asking, and it’s the same question Hayden once asked. It’s nearly impossible to feel calm. Is this a new kind of life he’s living? To be brought back time and time again for someone else’s benefit?

He grows worried, and ready to react, but Josh soon realizes the person is more afraid of him than he is of them.

“I’m Nolan.”

Huh. Well, maybe life has a way of making sense and Josh is more than happy to find out.

@wolfboy88 @teenwolfholidayfest

[cheeeeseburger]

Still the one

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I'm on winter break, so that means I finally have time to write! Here's a little something.This story is set during the 2006 Olympics. English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes, enjoy!

“I knew I’d find you here.”

It’s a chilly Saturday morning, and it is entirely too cold and early for you to be drinking a slurpy in your hometown mall small food court. Cherry flavour, as usual, since you like the taste and the tint it leaves on your lips and tongue.

The straw makes an odd sound as you slurp the last of your drink. Real smooth.

In front of you stands a vision of a man. Sidney Crosby, back in Rimouski during Olympic break. Your heart starts beating fast. Suddenly, the brain freeze from your slurpy is not cold at all. Your cheeks turn as red as your tongue. What a sight to see.

He’s dressed in a grey hoodie under a black coat. Black pants, Pirates’ hat on, sunglasses over it; this Sidney Crosby is trying to go unnoticed. Has he forgotten where he is?

“How come?” You try to keep your cool but fail miserably. He just casually sits in front of you. Gosh, he looks good.

“Well, midterms are coming up, and whenever you have to study all day, you go to the mall early, so you can grab lunch and not be bothered by your family.”

Oh, how he knows you. Or at least, used to.

You fail at hiding a smile. “I think you have a calling for divination, kid, not hockey.” You are a month older than him, and it means the world to you.

Then you look at him, really look at him. He has changed a lot in the few months since you last saw him. He seems older, more mature. Seems like his time in Pittsburgh has made him more than just even more fit. He still has those boyish features you adore, but they have faded over time. His eyes are so beautiful, and you wish you could get closer to him to admire them, just like you used to do before kissing him, a lifetime ago.

Your heart breaks just a little. If only.

He looks away, suddenly shy, or intimated, or hurt. “How are you?”

Is this how it’s going to be? Are you really going to make small talk to him? Why doesn’t he talk about the weather instead?

“I’m good, really good. Everything is fine, as usual.”

“How are your parents?” Gosh, is this Pride & Prejudice? Has his ability to communicate been reduced to match Mr Darcy’s?

“They’re great. My mom’s been asking about you. She is worried for you. So is my dad. They’re both basically glued to the TV whenever you play.” Sidney smiles, but it quickly fades.

“How about you? Are you watching me on TV?” His eyes are suddenly hopeful. Your heart aches, and you avoid his gaze. Deep down, he knows the answer is no. It doesn’t make it less painful.

After a few seconds, you lock eyes with Sidney. You put on a brave face. “Hey, want to go for a drive? I’m sick of studying. We can pick up some Tim Hortons on the way and eat it in a parking lot.” Like we used to, you want to add.

His smile is back on. “My treat.” You put your books in your bag, and he picks it up and wears it over his shoulder.

Sidney puts the sunglasses back on. You smirk, and he picks up on it. “What’s so funny?”

“This isn’t Pittsburgh, you know. Rimouski used to be your home. These people know you. Yeah, you’re a celebrity, but you’re also kind of family around here. Sunglasses or not, they could spot you from a mile away. But they also know that you’re here on break, and they respect that, at least most of them.” You’re walking side by side through the mall, and he looks at you sideways.

“You’re right. I’m just used to life in Pittsburgh, that’s all.” A cold wave floods your veins, and Sidney knows he said the wrong thing. You continue walking in silence.

The pair of you finally get to your car, and your beat-up Honda Civic suddenly seems so small. You get a hundred déja vus at the same time.

“The place hasn’t changed” he jokes, and everything is back to normal once again.

You still know his order by heart. The cashier smiles. This is a scene she used to play many times a week only a year ago. He adds a box of Timbits, then pays. You thank him and go back to the car and drive away. You don’t know why, but you’re nervous.

Your subconscious makes you drive to the parking lot where you first slept together, back when you didn’t want people to know.

As soon as you put the car to park, the air changes. There’s a silence, but it isn’t awkward. It’s filled with I wish things were like before and why did you change them then?

“How are you, really?” You finally ask.

“I’m good. Yeah, things are great." His smile falters. "Actually, no, they’re not, but they’re supposed to be, so I pretend they are.” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “I feel so much pressure and everyone expects so much from me, and I’m constantly worried about messing everything up, and it’s all a little too much, and I miss home, and I miss you.” He lets out a deep sigh and looks up the roof, his dark hair ruffled by the headrest, eyes closed. You’re not sure if he realizes what he just said. It was probably an accident. He is obviously very overwhelmed, and not thinking straight. Still, your heart skips many beats.

You can help but to cup his face with your hand, and softly caress his cheeks with your thumb. You’re not so bold as to put a hand through his hair, though you know that’s what Sidney needs.

“Sid, nobody expects you to be perfect except yourself. I feel like you’re on the edge of breaking down. You’re doing so well, and even if you weren’t, you have so much time to become great, and we’ll always be proud of you. Gosh, I always wear your jersey during game nights, even though I cried a million tears when I received it by mail, when you hadn’t called in a month, and I resented you so much. Whether you’re good or not, I’d betray the Habs a thousand times for you, and that’s saying something. Just give it a little time, and Pittsburgh’s going to be your home, and your jersey will be up in the rafters.” You take a deep breath. That last sentence hurts, but you just hope it cheered him up.

He turns his head to face you. He looks so vulnerable, and you’re reminded why you fell in love with him in the first place.

Without even thinking, Sidney crashes his lips on yours, your eyes shut, and your hands are in his hair while his are on your waist. Immediately, you deepen the kiss, and it’s like it’s last year all over again. His tongue starts tasting like cherries too, with a hint of sugar from the donuts. You wish you could stay like this forever but unfortunately for you, you come back to your senses.

“I have a boyfriend!” You blurt out.

Confused, Sidney pulls away. “What?”

“I’ve only been with him since January!” Like that somehow makes it better. The guilt is nearly overwhelming. You wouldn’t wish being cheated on to your worst enemy, if you ever had one.

“How come I didn’t know?” Sidney looks devastated. His words are innocent enough, but they start an avalanche of anger and resentment inside of you.

“Well how was I supposed to let you know, Sidney? Was I meant to write you a letter? Oh right, I don’t even have your new address! What about a phone call? Well you haven’t bothered with calling me, so why should I? You don’t get to blame me without taking a long hard look in the mirror, Sidney Crosby. Do you know how many nights I fell asleep crying, wondering why you wouldn't talk to me?” Now, it’s an ocean of frustrated tears running down your cheeks, your mascara staining them. You wipe them with the back of your hands.

“Gosh, do you even know how much I loved you? If you love me like I loved you, this situation would be entirely different. Instead, here I am, cheating on a boyfriend I don’t even love but that I keep around because he’s a distraction, but he’s not you and it kills me!” You gasp at your own cruel words. The tears start flowing again, and they don’t stop, because you’re so ashamed of yourself.

Your words are only partially true, and definitely not fair to him.

Sidney just looks at you, too stunned to speak, but he shakes himself and pull you close to him in one of those hugs that you miss so much. He rubs your back while you cry your heart out on his shoulder, probably staining his hoodie at the same time.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so, so sorry.” He repeats the words like a prayer. Maybe if he says them enough, you’ll forgive him.

Against your better judgement, you let him soothe you. You wish your resentment wasn’t fading with every touch.

Eventually, you pull away, but only for a short while, because you furiously put your mouth on his. The windows quickly fogs up.

“Let’s go in the backseat.” Obediently, he nods.

Frantically, you straddle him, and both of your shirts are immediately off. He quickly unhooks your bra, and he splits the task of taking care of your tits between his mouth and hand. Your back arches because you have longed for his touch for months, and it feels like coming home.

He worships your body, still knowing it by heart. Mentally, he takes pictures of it, because who knows when he is going to get to see it again?

“What’s his name?” Sidney asks against your neck, breathless.

“What?” You’re confused, and his hand on your thigh isn’t helping.

“Your boyfriend. What’s his name?” The question makes sense now. So does the sudden tightness of his hands on your body. That boy is jealous.

“Nathan. You know him. He’s friend with some of our friends. I’m sure you’ve seen him before.” He grunts and you both pause to take off your pants.

“The blond guy who always looked at you? He should know that you’re mine.” His mouth is possessive on yours.

“Used to be. Used to be yours.” At the same time, you feel him inside of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your pleasure is heightened by the sounds he makes.

“Screw that. I messed up. You’ll always be mine. I love you too much to ever let you go.” His tender words send you over the edge. You come while chanting his name, then fall helplessly against his bare shoulder. It doesn’t take him long to finish too.

You both lay against each other for what feels like hours.

"Earlier, you said you loved me. Was the past tense intentional?" You know what he is subtly asking.

"Of course not. I still love you, Sid."

Sidney gives you a soft kiss then grabs the box of Timbits.

You put one in your mouth. “I can’t believe I now belong to the cheaters. This isn’t me. Only you could make me do something like this, Sid.” You softly sigh. He delicately runs his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry for that, baby. I hope you don’t regret this.”

You turn to look at him. “Sidney, I could never regret this. When it comes to you, I would do anything for crumbs of your affection. It’s embarrassing, really.” You laugh at little, shy.

“It’s really not. I look for you every time I see a colourful scarf, and I look for you in the stands after every goal, but I’m reminded you’re not there, and so I buy myself a cherry slurpy to get a taste of your lips.” His arms tighten around you, and you snuggle into him, eyes closed.

“Those words are going to hurt me for a lifetime. Every time you’re not there, in fact. It hurts, having to see your face everywhere. I’m constantly haunted by what we could have been.” It was scary, exposing your heart to him like that, knowing he could shatter it in an instant.

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Remember when I asked you to try out long distance, and you flat out refused? You were convinced it was not going to work. You had no faith in me. Do you think I’m not haunted by that?” Now it was your turn to wince.

Of course, you still remember the cruel words you threw at him. It was like you did everything in your power to make him believe your relationship had a deadline. You didn’t give him a chance.

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. In a few minutes, we’ll put back our clothes, and I’ll drive you to your car. We’ll say bye and pretend none of this happened. I’ll go back to my boyfriend; you’ll go back to Pittsburgh. Eventually, all of this will be a distant memory. Eventually, we will be fine.” The words hurt.

He protests immediately. “What if we don’t forget? I don’t want you to go back to anyone else. I don’t want to go back to Pittsburgh knowing you’re with someone else.” He grabs your face. “We didn’t even try. You have to give us a chance.” Sid’s words shock you.

“Sidney, you can’t be serious.” He flinches, and you know you’ve hurt him.

“Do you truly have no faith in me?” He looks so vulnerable; it makes you want to cry.

“Of course I have faith in you, Sidney. I love you too much not to. But I also know that I might not survive another breakup.”

“Why are you already assuming this won’t work? I truly believe our love is stronger than a few hundred kilometers between us. I’ll call you everyday, I swear. Your school break is coming up, I could fly you to Pittsburgh, and I’ll visit you whenever we play the Habs. I’ll write you a letter everyday, if you want me to. You only have to trust me. That’s all I’m asking you. Along with, will you be my girlfriend again, even though it feels like you never stopped being mine?”

This was the sincerest declaration of love you had ever heard. If you had doubts about whether he loved you or not, they were now gone. You loved him, he loved you. What could go wrong?

“In my head, you never stopped being mine either. I could fool myself into thinking I could ever love somebody else, but it’s impossible. Of course I'll be your girlfriend, Sid.” As cheesy as it looked, there were some happy tears in your eyes. You heard him let out a sigh of relief before pulling you close to him.

You held onto Sidney like a lifeline.

“I want to take you on a date” You giggle like a lovesick fool at his request.

“Okay, mon coeur. But there’s something I have to do first.”

“What is it?”

“I have to breakup with my boyfriend. No, not you. The other one.”