#I’ve seen it before but it’s been a year or two

[thedensworld]

Kiss a Friend | K. Mg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Summary: Mingyu was obsessed with his ex fiancee who had left him on the altar. To get her back, he paid all your debt to help him.

It started with a kiss.

Mingyu had warned you to arrive at 7, sharp. Punctuality, he said, was non-negotiable. He despised people who couldn’t respect time. But tonight, you wanted him to hate you, to see the look of irritation flash across his usually composed face. So, you walked in at 7:50, deliberately late, wearing the plainest dress you could find in your closet. It was all part of your plan to embarrass Kim Mingyu, a small act of rebellion against the man who now held a claim over your life for the next three months.

You sighed, an inexplicable tightness in your chest. Mingyu was more than just the imposing businessman he had become; he was your childhood nemesis. To be fair, your parents had been friends long before you were born, so you and Mingyu were forced into each other’s lives. You spent your childhood squabbling over the smallest things—who was faster on their bikes or who could get highest score in Math. It was always a competition, and Mingyu always found a way to win, leaving you rolling your eyes and muttering curses under your breath. Then, he left for the States to study business and fulfill his destiny of taking over the family empire. The distance was a relief, a clean break from the constant rivalry.

Meanwhile, you had chosen a different path. You found joy in acting, even if it meant playing minor roles or being in small films. You cherished the freedom it gave you, the knowledge that you weren’t bound by family legacies or the weight of expectations. Your life was yours, simple and light—or at least it was until last month.

Mingyu returned from the States a changed man, celebrated and respected in the business world. He no longer resembled the carefree boy from the neighborhood, and communication between you dwindled to polite nods and rare encounters. Then, the invitation came: a wedding announcement for him and his fiancée of two years. You’d laughed to yourself, amused by the thought that Mingyu, the annoying kid who used to trip you on purpose, had grown up enough to commit to someone. The thought of him managing to woo a woman seemed almost comical.

But everything shattered on the day he was left standing at the altar.

The chaos that followed was unforgettable. You ran to his parents, finding his father pale and clutching his chest, too stunned to speak. The paramedics arrived moments later, rushing him to the hospital. You stayed behind, holding his mother’s trembling hand and feeling the weight of Mingyu’s world as it crumbled around him. Hyorin—his fiancée, now ex-fiancée, ex-bride; you struggled to decide what to call her—left only a short letter behind. In it, she confessed that she’d run away with another man, admitting she’d been unfaithful and choosing to leave Mingyu for good.

Days later, Mingyu appeared at your door. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his usual confident posture was nowhere to be seen.

“Help me,” he said, voice low and raw.

You blinked, unable to piece together what he meant. “Help you with what?”

“Help me get Hyorin back,” he clarified, leaning against the doorframe as if the effort of standing was too much. “I need you to be my girlfriend—just for three months.”

Your mouth dropped open. The idea was absurd. “Are you serious?”

“Hyorin is possessive. She won’t be able to stand seeing someone else with me. I know her. If she thinks I’ve moved on, she’ll come back,” he explained, desperation creeping into his tone. His eyes held yours, unyielding. “And besides, she hates you. That’ll add fuel to the fire.”

He sat comfortably on your couch, surveying your small apartment with an expression that was almost amused. It was a stark contrast to the sleek penthouse or sprawling home he had planned to share with Hyorin. You sat on the floor across from him, disbelief clouding your expression as you struggled to take his proposal seriously. Date Mingyu? It was laughable. He was too entangled in your childhood memories to ever be considered a romantic prospect, even if he had changed into a confident, sought-after businessman. Every time you looked at him, you couldn’t help but picture the mischievous boy with a grin that spelled trouble.

Yet, Mingyu was relentless. The proposal kept coming, woven into daily conversations and backed by small gestures. He pampered you in ways you didn't expect, bringing you coffee, making sure you were eating, all because he couldn’t find anyone better for this crazy plan of his.

“And besides, you’re a great actress,” he said one evening, leaning back into the cushions with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes, recognizing the manipulative edge in his tone. “I know,” you muttered, barely containing your frustration.

Before the conversation could spiral further, the sharp ring of your doorbell echoed through the apartment, followed by a series of frantic knocks. Alarm bells went off in your mind. No. Not now.

“Hide,” you whispered urgently, pulling Mingyu up by the arm and shoving him into your room before he could protest. If the person at the door saw Mingyu, it would be a disaster you weren’t prepared to deal with.

“Open up, Y/N! I know you’re there!” a familiar voice shouted from the other side, slurring slightly. Your heart sank as you recognized it. The door barely clicked open before it was pushed with force, slamming you back a step as Boemjae stumbled into the room. The stale scent of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Not today, Boemjae,” you said firmly, hoping to sound braver than you felt.

He laughed, a low, menacing sound as he stepped closer and pressed you against the wall. “Who are you to tell me what to do, bitch?” His voice was a venomous whisper, and the sharp pain of your back hitting the wall made you wince. He swaggered toward the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle, taking a swig as if he owned the place.

“Leave,” you tried again, your voice strained but steady.

Boemjae’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No. I need my money now,” he snarled, his tone shifting from casual menace to a sharp demand.

“I don’t have it now, but I’ll send it later,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper. Before you could brace yourself, Boemjae shoved you with enough force that you stumbled and crashed into the coffee table, pain searing through your side.

“I need it now,” he repeated, bending down to yank you up by the collar as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. His laugh was harsh and mocking. “How are you even planning to pay me back, huh? Sleeping with random men? You can’t even land a decent acting role!”

Before you could respond, Mingyu’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “Let her go.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Boemjae turned, surprise flickering in his bloodshot eyes before he barked out a laugh. “So, this is the man you’re sleeping with? How much is he giving you? You’d better hand it over right now,” he sneered before shoving you roughly to Mingyu’s side. Relief washed over you as Mingyu caught you, holding you steady with a firm arm around your waist. The old Mingyu would have never stepped in, but this Mingyu—this confident, determined man—was different.

Mingyu’s expression hardened as he stepped forward, towering over Boemjae, his height and presence imposing. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said, voice cold and commanding. “And I want you out of this house. Now.”

Boemjae’s laugh faltered, turning uneasy as he took in Mingyu’s stance. “Boyfriend? Don’t kid yourself. I know her, and she doesn’t have a boyfriend. I’m her important person,” he said with a sneer.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you were truly important, you’d know who I am,” he said, taking another step closer until Boemjae flinched. “Leave now, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Boemjae swallowed, the drunken bravado evaporating under Mingyu’s glare. He backed away, muttering curses under his breath before stumbling out the door.

The silence that followed was thick, your shallow breaths the only sound in the room. Mingyu’s eyes bore into you, sharp and intense, the anger still radiating off him in waves.

“Who was that? Why do you even know someone like him? Is he your boyfriend?” he fired off questions, his voice clipped and filled with barely contained rage.

“It’s none of your business,” you mumbled, wincing as you gripped your arm where it throbbed with pain.

Mingyu’s brows knitted together in a fierce scowl. “It is my business if you’re going to be my new girlfriend,” he declared, the conviction in his voice making your head spin. When had you ever agreed to this? Why was he speaking like you’d already signed some invisible contract?

“I never said yes,” you muttered, exhaling shakily as the adrenaline in your system began to ebb.

Mingyu’s eyes softened just a fraction, but his determination remained. “Who is he? Why does he come here?”

“I owe him money,” you admitted, your voice a strained whisper. “He shows up whenever he needs cash.”

A tense silence followed as Mingyu processed your words. “How much?” he asked, his tone commanding.

You bit your lip, irritation bubbling up at his demanding attitude. “It’s none of your business!”

“How much?” he pressed, leaning in, eyes searching yours for an answer.

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thirty-five billion,” you finally said, the weight of the number hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s expression flickered with surprise before settling into one of resolute determination. The silence stretched between you, almost suffocating, before he spoke again, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll pay it,” he said, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument. “But only if you agree to be my contract girlfriend for three months. That’s all the time I need to get Hyorin back.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the enormity of his proposal pressing down on you. This was more than just a game to him; it was a desperate gamble. And now, it was your move.

*

The last day of owning your own life felt strange, surreal even.

You sat uncomfortably in Mingyu’s office, surrounded by the scent of polished wood and subtle cologne, a stark contrast to the chaotic familiarity of your world. The sterile office setting, with its pristine glass walls and neat rows of desks, was foreign to you. You were never an office girl. You were the adventurous one, the free spirit. So when Mingyu called you in to meet his lawyer and sign the contract, you weren’t prepared. Not mentally and definitely not in the way you were dressed—in just a plain shirt and worn blue jeans. If you had known the gravity of this moment, maybe you would have chosen something more formal, something that wouldn’t make you look so out of place among the sleek suits and pencil skirts.

Mingyu, now a commanding presence as the director of his father’s company, sat across the long mahogany table. He was the picture of cool composure, suited up impeccably, his gaze sharp but carrying an odd familiarity. The lawyer spoke up, cutting through the hum of your racing thoughts.

“As you can see, Mr. Kim will give you the agreed-upon sum tomorrow, and the contract will last for three months. If you have any questions, now would be the time to ask,” the lawyer said, his voice professional but devoid of emotion.

You glanced down at the document in front of you, your fingers brushing the paper lightly as you read. Years in the entertainment industry had taught you the importance of dissecting every line in a contract, ensuring that nothing would come back to bite you.

Halfway down, your eyes widened at a clause. “I have to move in with you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, disbelief clear in your voice.

Mingyu cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair, his expression stoic. “Yes. It’ll create the right image. The media will go wild if they find out a woman moved in with me just a month after being left at the altar. Hyorin will hear about it. She’ll be furious, maybe even desperate enough to come back.”

You frowned, your thoughts racing. “And if I don’t want to?”

A chuckle escaped Mingyu, a sound that brought a flicker of childhood memories—those endless debates, the playful bickering that now seemed like a different lifetime. “Then we’ll negotiate. But I can promise that all your needs will be met. Besides,” he paused, his eyes narrowing just a touch, “Beomjae wouldn’t be able to harass you at my place.”

The mention of Beomjae sent a chill down your spine, your discomfort deepening. You didn’t like how easily Mingyu had brought up that night in front of his lawyer. It was a memory you’d hoped to lock away and never revisit. Still, the thought of escaping Beomjae’s shadow was tempting, more than tempting.

“And just so we’re clear,” Mingyu continued, his voice dropping to a serious note, “you’re not sleeping in my bed. The house has more than enough rooms.” He said it matter-of-factly, but the unexpected implication made your cheeks burn. You felt a wave of embarrassment rush through you as if the contract itself was some guilty secret.

The lawyer pointed to another clause. Intercourse was strictly prohibited; anything more intimate than staged public displays of affection would void the agreement and terminate the contract immediately. You breathed out slowly, relief mixing with an odd nervousness. The contract laid out your new reality in stark, unyielding terms, yet there was no malice hidden in its words. Mingyu might have been many things, but he wasn’t deceitful. He wouldn’t trap you with fine print. And the money? The staggering sum of thirty-five billion won seemed almost absurd, a price you weren’t sure you deserved for playing pretend for three months.

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he spoke, almost as if he could read your mind. “This role is harder than you think, Y/N. It won’t be easy.”

You glanced up at him, a blend of challenge and resignation in your eyes, before signing your name. The final stroke of the pen echoed in your ears like a tolling bell. Tomorrow, everything would change. You weren’t just Mingyu’s childhood friend anymore.

You were now his girlfriend. His thirty-five-billion-won girlfriend.

*

As you stepped into the birthday party hosted by Mingyu’s uncle, Kim Jaejoong, a wave of self-consciousness swept over you. The dazzling lights reflected off shimmering gowns and sharp suits, making you feel more out of place than ever. You were dressed simply, far too simply for such an event, and each glance cast your way seemed to gnaw at your self-esteem. You gave your name at the entrance, "Kim Mingyu's plus one," and the attendant nodded, letting you through with barely a glance.

The room was filled with South Korea’s most influential figures, a crowd where power was worn as naturally as their tailored suits. You scanned the room, trying to find Mingyu's familiar silhouette among a sea of business elites. But everyone here looked alike in their uniform of suit and tie, making it more challenging than you'd expected.

Then you spotted her. Wi Hyorin.

Hyorin, the heiress of Wi Finance, one of South Korea's most prestigious financial empires. The very woman who had left Mingyu standing alone at the altar, igniting a wildfire of gossip across the business world. The alliance that their marriage would have cemented had turned into a scandal overnight, the fallout reverberating through boardrooms and society pages. But why was she here, now, at Jaejoong's event? Was she trying to rekindle something? Your chest tightened as you watched her glide gracefully across the room.

Your eyes found Mingyu. He stood tall, commanding attention in a circle of businessmen, his smile practiced and confident. But as Hyorin moved toward him, you noticed a shift in his demeanor—a flicker of recognition and tension. The past month of living with Mingyu as his so-called “gold digger” girlfriend had been surreal. Tabloid stories had painted you as an unknown actress who somehow caught the eye of the jilted billionaire. Kim Mingyu’s New Flame: The Mysterious Actress After the Altar Scandal. The stories practically wrote themselves, and you, once a spectator to such dramas, were now the unwitting star.

You took a deep breath, a rush of impulse taking hold. If Mingyu’s plan was to make Hyorin jealous to win her back, then a bold move was justified, right? No harm done if it served the goal.

You walked steadily toward him, the room seeming to shrink as your heartbeat drummed in your ears. Mingyu noticed you, his eyes lighting up with a practiced warmth as he lifted a hand to wave, playing the devoted boyfriend role perfectly.

“Meet my girlfriend, Ji Y/N. She’s an actress—”

Before he could finish, you acted. Your hand reached up, pulling him toward you as your lips met his in a sudden, daring kiss. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, the clink of champagne glasses pausing midair. You felt Mingyu’s initial shock; his body stiffened, and he pulled back, eyes wide with surprise.

The room was a frozen tableau for a heartbeat, but it was Hyorin’s voice that shattered the silence. “So, you’re dating your childhood friend now, Mingyu?” Her tone was soft, almost melodious, but it carried an edge that cut through you like a blade. The implication in her words stung more than you expected. How dare she, after abandoning him?

But before you could react, Mingyu stepped away from you, turning to Hyorin with an almost desperate urgency. His hand reached for hers, a gesture that made your stomach drop. “I didn’t kiss her back, Hyorin,” he said, his voice clear enough for anyone nearby to hear.

The world seemed to tilt, his words echoing in your mind. Your heart plummeted as the realization settled in: Kim Mingyu, the man you once called your friend—no, the man you were now pretending to be in love with—was still devoted to the woman who had humiliated him in front of the entire country. And he had just proven it, publicly.

The plan was to make Hyorin jealous enough to return to him. It was working. You’d done what you set out to do, so why did your chest ache like this? You told yourself it didn’t matter. You had no right to feel this way. This was a job, a role to play, nothing more.

You stepped back, your face a mask of practiced calm as you retreated to the quieter corner of the venue. The din of conversation swallowed the silence you left behind. You reached for a glass of wine, the cool liquid promising a momentary reprieve from the chaos in your mind.

“So, you’re Ji Y/N, the one everyone’s been talking about?” A voice interrupted the solitude you had wrapped yourself in. You turned to see an unfamiliar face—a man you had never met before. He was striking, with sharp features and an air of effortless confidence. He introduced himself as Yoon Jeonghan, a college friend of Mingyu’s. The name registered immediately; he was the CEO of Yoonique, a luxury fashion brand that had been making waves locally and internationally.

“If you’re his girlfriend, I should’ve met you by now, especially with all the news swirling around. But here we are, meeting for the first time,” Jeonghan said, his tone light but with an undercurrent that suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You felt your heart tighten. This conversation was more layered than you were prepared for, and the probing curiosity in his eyes made you reach for your wine again. “I’m not in a position to answer that,” you muttered, the rim of the glass brushing your lips.

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that somehow put you at ease and on edge at the same time. He leaned against the railing beside you, his eyes shifting to the city lights that stretched beyond the venue’s grand windows. “Mingyu’s a fool sometimes. I can see that now more than ever. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess,” he said, his voice softening, making you turn to look at him.

“He told me about his plan—to win Hyorin back. I never thought it was a good idea, but I see now that you’re his partner in this... charade?” He paused, waiting for a response that you didn’t have. Your silence was answer enough.

You sighed, the weight of the night pressing down on you. “I’ve known him since we were kids. This is the least I can do, especially for his parents. They’ve been under so much pressure since the wedding incident,” you whispered, careful not to let anyone overhear your conversation.

Jeonghan’s expression shifted, a blend of understanding and something else you couldn’t quite read. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the burden you both seemed to carry. The quiet between you was a welcome reprieve from the noise inside, where murmurs and sidelong glances threatened to pull you apart.

You sipped your wine again, eyes drifting over the dark, sprawling skyline. Out here, you didn’t have to hear the whispered gossip or feel the eyes boring into your back.

“Mingyu ditched his girlfriend for his ex-fiancée?”

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, not because it wasn’t true, but because you knew people were cruel enough to say it aloud. Even if you were okay with being in this position, it was still humiliating to be part of such a spectacle.

Jeonghan’s voice brought you back. “Are you free tomorrow? Would you be willing to meet me at my office?” He asked, his eyes catching yours in the window’s reflection, the city lights dancing in them like embers.

You turned to face him, a flicker of curiosity sparking in your chest. What could he possibly want from you? Whatever it was, the idea of visiting Yoonique’s CEO office sounded intriguing, an unexpected twist in an already complicated story.

“Sure,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. You weren’t sure where this was heading, but for the first time that night, you felt a sliver of excitement cut through the haze of doubt.

*

"You ran away," Mingyu said as he stepped into your room, his voice low and sharp. The door clicked shut behind him, and you glanced up to see him in a half-dressed state—his suit discarded, an expensive dress shirt clinging to his broad frame, and a loosened blue tie draped around his neck. The sight was disheveled, raw, and too close for comfort.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the script for your newest and most promising role—a second lead that could finally catapult your acting career—resting in your hands. Your eyes met his, refusing to show the tumult of emotions twisting in your chest.

“You didn’t knock,” you said, trying to maintain an even tone. It was a feeble attempt to set a boundary, one you knew he would ignore.

Mingyu’s eyes darkened as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming the room. “As far as I remember, this is my house. And this room is technically mine.”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, bastard, but you swallowed it down. The weight of the day hung over you like a shroud, and rest was all you craved. You placed the script on the nightstand and sat up straighter, facing him.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m living in your place. So, technically, this is still your room. Want to sleep here tonight?” You threw out the jest, trying to shift the tension, but it landed wrong.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, and he took another step forward, eyes blazing. “You kissed me and now you’re asking if I want to sleep with you? Is that how cheap you are, Y/N?” His voice was harsh, each word slicing through the space between you.

The accusation stung. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. “You think I kissed you for that?” Your tone cracked, disbelief laced with hurt.

“You kissed me in front of everyone and caused a scandal! You really thought that would help my plan?” His voice rose, frustration spilling over like an overflowing dam.

You met his glare, eyes narrowed. “The plan was to make Hyorin jealous, to make her want you back. Didn’t it work?” Your voice was low, trembling with controlled rage.

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, exasperation etched across his face. “Making her jealous and actually getting her back are two different things, Y/N! Your impulsive stunt just pushed her further away. It showed her that I’m willing to move on. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Your chest ached as you watched him unravel. “And whose fault is that?” you shot back. “You practically shouted to the world that you didn’t kiss me back. Right in front of her, in front of everyone. That’s how stupid you are, Kim Mingyu!”

For a moment, silence fell, crackling with unresolved tension. Mingyu’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he hadn’t expected you to fight back. His anger morphed into something deeper, something unreadable.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet so swiftly that the room spun. You gasped as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

“So I’m stupid because I didn’t kiss you back?” he whispered, the proximity making your pulse race. Before you could respond, his fingers found the nape of your neck, and he closed the distance between you. His lips crashed into yours with an urgency that stunned you.

Your mind screamed at you to resist, but the battle was fleeting. He was too strong, or maybe, you were too willing. Maybe it was because deep down, this was what you had wished for when you kissed him earlier—this reckless, unrestrained moment. Your hands found their way to his chest, and you felt yourself giving in, kissing him back with the same intensity.

The kiss became a desperate clash, more a battle than an embrace. Mingyu's hands gripped your waist with an intensity that left you breathless, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to mark you, claim you. You gasped when he pulled back, his eyes dark with something raw and unapologetic, searching your face for any hesitation.

The only answer you gave was a tug at his shirt, buttons flying in reckless abandon as you exposed the heat of his chest. He smirked, a hint of danger playing at the corner of his lips, before he pushed you back onto the mattress, following you down with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His body pressed into yours, all hard planes and coiled tension, a silent reminder of the power he wielded.

“Mingyu,” you breathed, the sound half plea, half challenge. He caught the way your voice faltered, and his smirk widened, leaning down to brush his mouth just below your jaw, trailing fire wherever he touched. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, the sound vibrating against your skin and igniting a reckless thrill.

He hovered over you, his eyes boring into yours, the heat between you searing. “Tell me to stop.” he rasped, a taunt that made your pulse quicken. Before you could answer, his lips claimed yours again, hard and consuming, leaving no room for second thoughts.

Clothes slipped away in a flurry of heated motions, the cool air biting at your exposed skin for only a moment before he was there, pressing into you, suffocating and electrifying all at once. The room was filled with sharp breaths and quiet gasps as he explored, each touch setting off a chain reaction you couldn’t control.

Every move was a silent challenge, a push and pull of dominance and surrender. His teeth grazed your collarbone, earning a shiver that he answered with a dark chuckle, fingers tracing paths that left you arching into him. Your nails raked down his back, pulling a hiss from him that made something dark and thrilling coil in your chest.

The space between you became suffocating, bodies moving together in a rhythm that left no room for tenderness, only hunger. Every gasp, every whispered name, was laced with defiance and something deeper, something both of you refused to name.

"The contract..." you muttered, the reality of the situation cutting through the haze that still clung to your mind. The gravity of what just happened settled between you like an uninvited guest.

Mingyu's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He scoffed, the sound low and bitter. "Fuck, my lawyer doesn’t need to know about this," he said, half to himself and half to you, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

*

"So, did you sleep together?"

Jeonghan’s sharp question made you choke on the sip of tea his secretary had brought in moments earlier. You managed not to spill any as you placed the delicate cup back on the table, eyes locking with Jeonghan's. He was grinning, eyes sharp and teasing as they assessed your reaction.

"No..." he continued before you could answer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I mean, I heard you moved in." He restated, though the pointed look in his eyes suggested he already suspected the truth.

"It was a business contract, Jeonghan," you responded evenly, though the words felt flimsy in the air. Jeonghan, who insisted you call him by his first name as though he wanted no reminder of his father’s legacy, hummed, tilting his head as if inviting you to elaborate.

"A three-month contract to get Hyorin back," you said, your voice steadying. "You probably already know this, but he wanted me to play the role of his fake girlfriend." At the end of your words, Jeonghan let out a dry chuckle, the sound mirthless.

"I can't believe he's that childish," he muttered. His gaze shifted, scrutinizing your face as if trying to read between the lines. "And what did you get out of this little arrangement?" he pressed.

You hesitated before muttering, "He paid my debt... 35 billion won."

Jeonghan’s eyes widened briefly before he masked his surprise. "That's a lot of money for three months," he said, watching you nod in agreement. "That’s life-changing."

"I plan to give it back when the contract ends," you admitted, almost shyly.

Jeonghan's brow lifted in disbelief, as though you’d just declared you were planning to burn the money. "Don't give it back. Keep it," he said, leaning forward with sudden intensity. "At least take that much from him after everything."

You let out a small, hollow laugh. "I helped him because he's my friend," you said, your voice tinged with a bitter edge. "And, as I told you yesterday... for his parents. I’ll work hard and pay my own debts."

Jeonghan went quiet, his eyes narrowed in contemplation, taking in every word as if filing them away.

"May I know what kind of situation landed you with that much debt?" he finally asked.

You bit your lip, the weight of the past pressing down like a heavy cloak. It was complicated, a story rooted in tragedy. "It wasn’t originally my debt; it was my father’s," you began, your voice tight. "He owned a production house and partnered with a young director, Lee Beomjae. The project was ambitious, with a promise of 100 billion won. Beomjae even invested his own money, but then... everything collapsed. The company went bankrupt when my father died in a car accident, and my mother... she couldn’t bear it and took her own life. The business fell apart, and no one wanted to pick up the pieces. That left me with 35 billion won I couldn't escape."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. You took another sip of tea, anything to break the tension that stretched between you and Jeonghan.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes studying you with newfound understanding. "Here’s what I think, Y/n," he said, voice soft but unwavering. "Mingyu wanted you to be his contract girlfriend, paid you a fortune, and you signed up for it. Yet, you didn’t take the money. I don’t know any friend who’d go to those lengths for someone."

He paused, his eyes narrowing as a knowing smirk spread across his lips.

"Unless..."

"You have feelings for him."

*

You were certain you didn't have any feelings for Mingyu. That much you knew. But whatever had happened between you and Jeonghan earlier in the office was beyond your control. The way his presence felt so imposing, so suffocating—it was like being caught in a storm you never saw coming. Jeonghan was a menace. You could tell just from the way his eyes glinted with malicious amusement, always reveling in the discomfort or pain of others. And that included his friend, Mingyu.

"Okay, let's say you don’t have feelings for him." Jeonghan's voice cut through the tension, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as if he'd already dismissed your objections.

Without warning, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. His thumb slid across the screen, and it lit up with a name that made your stomach drop—Mingyu.

What on earth was Jeonghan up to? Why was he calling Mingyu? Your heart began to pound in your chest as the phone rang, the sound impossibly loud in the stillness of the room.

The line clicked, and Mingyu's familiar voice came through, bright and casual. "Jeonghan... What’s up?"

The friendly tone was jarring to your senses. This was the voice of someone you'd never heard since you threw yourself into this mess with Mingyu. Certainly not the same voice from last night, the one that had been cold and cutting. The same man who, earlier that morning, had made his feelings crystal clear.

“I would never kiss you like I like you, Y/N. You’re a cheap woman. And even if you were the only woman in this world, I still wouldn’t kiss you like I liked you. You understand?”

The words echoed in your mind as if they were still fresh, still raw. The anger, the frustration—it didn’t hurt as much anymore. It was just a painful truth you had come to terms with: he had turned into a bastard. And that realization, as much as you tried to deny it, was freeing.

Jeonghan, however, seemed to savor every moment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes dancing with mischief as he spoke into the phone.

“I’m with your girlfriend now,” he chirped, his voice dripping with amusement. He glanced over at you, his gaze mischievous. "I invited her over, and she came. She’s a beautiful woman."

There was a long, tense pause on the other side. No immediate reaction. You weren’t expecting one. There was no way Mingyu would get upset that you were here with Jeonghan. He had no reason to. His obsession with his ex, Hyorin, was enough to blind him to everything else.

Jeonghan’s eyes met yours again, but now there was something almost predatory in them as he leaned in closer. “I feel like I don’t deserve his money…” you had told him earlier, confessing a doubt you had never voiced before. And Jeonghan, with his wicked grin, had been quick to respond.

“I’ll help you feel like you deserve it, Y/N,” he’d promised, the words laced with an implication you were too afraid to fully understand.

The phone call continued, Jeonghan now speaking directly to you. “What do you think of my office, darling?” His voice was low, too casual. "How about that... table? Do you like my table?"

You were growing more confused by the second. What the hell was he trying to imply with these questions? Was it a game to him? Did it even matter?

But it was the next question that threw everything into chaos, sending a rush of heat to your face and tightening your chest.

“What do you think about Mingyu?” Jeonghan’s voice was calm but probing. "Do you like being his girlfriend?"

The silence from Mingyu on the other end only made everything worse. You could feel him listening, silently absorbing everything Jeonghan was about to say. The pressure was unbearable, and you found yourself biting down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the tension building inside you. You didn’t want to answer, didn’t know how to.

But you saw the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes. It was playful—too playful—and you knew that once that look took hold, there was no turning back.

“And how about being mine?” Jeonghan’s voice was a low, smooth whisper, the words hanging in the air like a threat, a challenge.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Mingyu still hadn’t said anything. The silence between the three of you was suffocating, thick with unspoken implications. You could almost hear Jeonghan’s smirk widening, could almost feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, daring you to react.

*

Mingyu pounded into you with an urgency that felt primal, as if his very existence depended on it. Just an hour earlier, he had stormed into the house, eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name—desperation, jealousy, rage. You'd barely finished toweling off from your shower when he burst through the door, demanding to know why you had been with Jeonghan.

“I was with Hyorin when you called,” you said, the confusion in your voice palpable.

His jaw clenched at the mention of Hyorin. So it wasn’t just Jeonghan's presence that set him off, but the fact that he was with Hyorin?

The realization simmered between you like a storm on the verge of breaking. But then, without another word, Mingyu had closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that silenced your questions and pulled your body flush against his. It was as if Hyorin had never stood between you, as if she didn’t matter at all. The intensity in his eyes told you everything: he was lost, consumed, and somewhere beneath that, afraid.

Why, then, did he hold you as if the world might end in two months?

Was Hyorin really the cause of this frantic need?

Or was there more that he hadn’t told you?

Mingyu gripped your waist and lifted you onto the dining table, the hard edge pressing into your thighs. The table Jeonghan had mentioned in passing just today, in a tone laced with mischief.

Was this what Mingyu had been stewing over? The idea of Jeonghan touching you in his office?

“You’re mine the moment you signed that contract,” he growled, the heat of his breath grazing your ear as he buried himself inside you with an urgent, unrelenting rhythm.

His hands moved up to cup your breasts, fingers curling possessively around them as his voice dropped, husky and rough. “Gotta make my 35 billion worth it, right?"

*

The next morning, you woke up in Mingyu's arms, the remnants of the night clinging to your skin like a whispered secret. The blaring sound of your alarm shattered the silence, signaling the beginning of a day that promised exhaustion and long hours on set in another city. You shifted slightly, feeling the ache from the bruises on your body.

“Did I do that?” Mingyu’s voice, unexpectedly soft, cut through the tension hanging in the room. His eyes were wide with concern as they traced the discolored marks along your skin.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, surprised to see him fully awake, studying you with an expression you hadn’t seen in a while. He was too caught up in his own world to notice these things — too focused on himself last night. You almost wanted to tell him that they weren’t his doing, that it was Beomjae’s cruelty imprinted on you, but you knew better. Mingyu wouldn’t care. Or would he?

“No, it’s not you,” you whispered, the lie slipping out as easily as breathing.

Mingyu sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and reached out to touch the edge of a bruise that crept up your shoulder. “Who did this to you?” His voice was strained, eyes darkening. “Isn’t it painful? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

You looked at him for a long moment, searching for a hint of sincerity behind his sudden worry. He looked almost unrecognizable, stripped of his usual indifference, as though the man you once knew was peeking through. A weary sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself up and wrapped a robe around your sore body.

“It’s none of your business, Mingyu,” you said with a practiced coldness, shielding yourself from whatever softness he was trying to show.

“It is my business. You’re my girlfriend,” he protested, his tone almost petulant, as if he truly believed his own words.

A bitter chuckle escaped you. “Are you even listening to yourself, Kim Mingyu?” The disbelief in your voice echoed through the room as you moved to the vanity, tying your hair with mechanical precision. In the mirror, you caught a glimpse of his confusion, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with something unreadable.

“Just stick to being yourself,” you added, the edge in your tone slicing through any pretense of warmth. Before he could respond, you turned away and began preparing for the long day ahead, leaving whatever half-formed thoughts he had unspoken.

You arrived at the shooting location on time, weaving through bustling crew members as they prepped for the day. Greeting everyone with polite nods and smiles, you slid seamlessly into your work. Without the support of a label or company, there was no manager trailing behind you. Every break was spent alone, sitting in your old, worn-out car, waiting for the next call.

“Everyone knows they cast her just because she’s Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend.” The whispers were never far, a constant background noise you had learned to ignore.

You pushed through the two or three scenes you had, monitoring them closely on playback to ensure your performance held up. It was in places like this where you soaked up everything you could, learning and growing, despite the limitations of playing minor roles. The space for growth was narrow, but you squeezed through whatever cracks you found.

“Hey, I’m Boo Seungkwan.” The voice was friendly, and when you looked up, the assistant director stood before you with an open, sincere expression.

You stood and bowed politely. “I’m Ji Y/N. Please take care of me.”,

Boo Seungkwan was a familiar presence on set, a talented and respected assistant director who had built a strong reputation despite his young age. You knew he wouldn’t approach you without reason, which made your heart race with a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Are you the daughter of Ji Jinkyung?” The question hit you like a cold wave.

Your breath caught for a moment. How did he know? You had spent years avoiding this truth, never mentioning your father’s name to anyone. The rise and fall of Ji Jinkyung had been a scandal splashed across headlines when JiPH declared bankruptcy, a tragedy soon followed by your mother’s death. You weren’t ashamed of your past; you were haunted by the guilt of the lives that crumbled alongside your family’s fall.

Seungkwan’s eyes softened with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. “I remember seeing you on set with him every weekend,” he said, nostalgia lacing his voice. “And I saw ‘Morning Mourn.’ You were incredible in that film.”

The memory stung, but you masked it with a practiced smile. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Driving home, Seungkwan’s words lingered like a dark cloud. If Lee Beomjae was spreading the truth about your identity, the ripple effect could be devastating. If the rumor reached the media, the production team could drop you without hesitation. Seungkwan’s heads-up was a lifeline, a warning to prepare yourself.

You parked outside and dialed Beomjae’s number, the cold metal of your phone pressed against your ear as the night air seeped into your bones. You had to confront him, to make sure he understood that spreading rumors would ruin everything—whatever thin strand of normalcy you were clinging to while trying to repay the impossible debt he held over you. You felt foolish, lost in the labyrinth of his manipulation. Was the debt even real? Or was it just another tool he used to torture you, to remind you of your powerlessness?

The vibration of an incoming message pulled you from your thoughts.

“Come to my parents’ house. There’s something they want to discuss with you.”

Mingyu’s text sat on your screen, an unexpected summons that left you staring, uncertain of what awaited you on the other side.

*

“I don’t remember raising you like this.” Mingyu’s father stormed out of the room, leaving behind an icy silence that wrapped around his wife, their son, and the woman who had walked out on Mingyu at the altar just two months ago. Mingyu released a heavy sigh as he sank deeper into the couch, feeling the weight of the room pressing down on him. Next to him, Hyorin sat with her head bowed, looking as fragile as porcelain, having come to his parents earlier to plead for their acceptance—an act that had summoned Mingyu here in a rush.

“Your father’s right, Mingyu. You’re crossing a line,” his mother said, her voice taut with disappointment. “When we heard you had a girlfriend, we assumed it would be someone we didn’t know. But imagine our shock when we found out it was Y/N. She’s like a daughter to us, Mingyu.”

Hyorin’s confession had unraveled everything. She had exposed Mingyu’s plan to win her back, even spilling the details to his parents. Mingyu had thought he could play for time—hold Hyorin off just long enough to make his next move. He hadn’t expected her to take matters into her own hands and throw everything into chaos.

“She agreed to it, Mother,” Mingyu defended, his voice low and strained. “She needs money—a lot of it. And she’s not the same Y/N you remember. She’s changed.”

His mother scoffed at his justification, a sound filled with disbelief and disdain. “Listen to yourself, Mingyu. Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound?” She stood up abruptly, the soft rustle of her skirt filling the silence as she followed her husband out of the room.

Mingyu’s heart sank deeper into his chest. The finality of his mother’s parting words echoed back at him as she turned at the doorway, her gaze steely and resolute. “This conversation isn’t over. I will speak to Y/N myself.”

Mingyu slumped back against the couch, the tension in his shoulders not easing even a bit. He glanced at his phone. The text he’d sent you over an hour ago remained unanswered, and now your silence gnawed at him with fresh urgency.

“I’m sorry,” Hyorin whispered, her hands trembling as she covered her face. Tears threatened to spill, and she struggled to hold them back. “I didn’t mean for it to get this big. I was desperate.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a sigh slipping past his lips. “No need to apologize, Hyorin. It’s done.”

“I promise I’ll do better,” she said, her voice breaking. “But please, stop this, Mingyu. Let’s go back to how things were. Let her go and come back to me.”

Mingyu drove home with a storm of thoughts churning in his mind. Frustration clenched his jaw tight, fueling his anger. You hadn't shown up when he needed you, and the disappointment gnawed at him. His parents refused to have a conversation without you; they cherished you, even after all these years apart. And Mingyu despised you for that. You were always the one they looked at with warmth, while he stood in the shadow of their expectations.

As he pushed open the door to the apartment, prepared to unleash another round of arguments with you, a familiar ritual that often ended with the two of you waking up next to each other in uneasy silence the next morning, he froze. His anger drained as he took in the sight before him. You were lying on the couch, eyes closed, face bruised and lips swollen.

“Who did this to you?” Mingyu’s voice cracked with urgency, his earlier frustration transforming into a different kind of rage. He crossed the room in three quick strides and cupped your face, startling you awake with his touch. The worry in his eyes felt foreign, almost out of place, but it was there, unmistakable.

You blinked at him, dazed and confused, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch. But Mingyu wasn’t listening. His eyes traced the darkening bruise on your cheekbone and the split in your lip, and an irrational fury bubbled up inside him. The idea that someone had hurt you like this made his blood run hot.

“Tell me who did this to you,” he pressed, his tone leaving no room for evasion. His fingers gripped your jaw just tight enough to draw your gaze, his own eyes blazing. He didn’t know what he would do once he had a name, but he was too far gone in his anger to care.

“I fell during shooting and hurt myself,” you whispered, eyes darting away from his.

Mingyu’s shoulders slumped slightly as he exhaled, the tension simmering down just enough for him to think. Without a word, he stood and retrieved the first aid kit and a bowl of ice cubes, kneeling beside you and insisting on tending to your injuries.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, breaking the heavy silence as he dabbed an antiseptic on your lip with more gentleness than you expected.

“Is that really important right now?” he scoffed, pressing the cloth to your bruised cheek. “We need to go to the hospital.”

You shook your head, a stubborn glint in your eyes. “It’ll heal.”

Mingyu’s movements faltered when you added, “I heard Hyorin was there. Did you get back together?”

He stiffened, setting the ice aside as his eyes met yours. “How do you know?” His tone was sharp, a thread of suspicion woven through it. “Were you there?”

You nodded, wincing as the motion pulled at your sore skin. “I came by for a bit. The maid mentioned Hyorin was inside, so I stayed back. I waited for over an hour, but I realized it would take longer, so I left.”

Mingyu’s frustration returned, tinged with a different emotion this time. “With your face looking like this? Are you always this stupid, Y/N?” His voice cracked, half-worried, half-angry.

You flinched but kept your gaze steady. “So, did you take her back?”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, the action filled with exasperation. “Is that what matters right now? You’re hurt, Y/N. I didn’t even know until I walked in the door.”

A confused look crossed your face as you whispered, “But that’s why we’re doing all of this, Mingyu. We need Hyorin back, for your sake.”

Mingyu stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in and tying knots in his chest. Your face was a mess of bruises, but there you sat, so focused on his plan, on helping him, as if your own pain didn't matter at all. The guilt gnawed at him, tearing apart the flimsy walls he’d built around himself.

Maybe what Mingyu feel about you lately is just a guilt. He just... pity you, that's it.

*

One month left before you’d be officially disboyfriended Mingyu. The term you coined mocked you with its bitter humor as you called Jeonghan, settling into the driver’s seat of your car. The air around you was heavy after your meeting with Hyorin. She had been surprisingly composed, delivering her message with a practiced smile: Mingyu and she were getting back together. Mingyu had even promised to escort her to the Jeon annual event this weekend, a public confirmation of their rekindled relationship.

You gritted your teeth, the irony not lost on you—did Hyorin know that for the past month, Mingyu had been tangled up with you, both in mind and body? The betrayal tasted metallic on your tongue.

Jeonghan picked up on the third ring. “So, what’s up?” His casual tone brought a semblance of calm to your frayed nerves.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you were about to commit to. “I’m in,” you said, voice low but firm.

There was a pause before Jeonghan chuckled, the sound both amused and intrigued. “What are you implying?” His voice took on a more serious edge, probing for clarity.

“I’ll take your offer,” you clarified, the weight of the words sinking in. “The offer to make me feel like I deserve his money.”

Jeonghan’s laughter came through, rich and approving. “That’s my girl,” he said with a hint of pride. “Alright, listen. Here’s the plan: meet me at my store in Gangnam after lunch.”

A few hours later, you stood under the warm glow of boutique lights as Jeonghan’s keen eyes assessed you. The racks around you were adorned with high-end pieces—silk, satin, tailored elegance. He moved from one option to another, fingers sliding over fabrics, before selecting a few and holding them up against your frame.

“Change into this,” he said, gesturing to a piece that was an explosion of jewel-toned fabric. You nodded and disappeared behind the velvet curtain of the fitting room. The process repeated: outfits changed, critiques delivered. A disapproving headshake here, a muttered comment there—“Not good enough,” he’d say, or a more frustrated, “We need an emergency meeting with the designers. Yoonique has to fit everyone.”

Then, you stepped out in the last dress. Jeonghan’s eyes lit up, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback. The black satin dress hugged your body like a secret, long-sleeved and sleek, with an open back that hinted at danger and a neckline that dipped tastefully. A slit ran high on your thigh, exposing just enough skin to catch anyone’s attention. It was bold yet elegant—perfect.

“That’s it,” he said, satisfaction curling his lips into a smirk. “It’s yours.” He stood and circled you slowly, eyeing the bruises that marred the expanse of your back. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown. “We’ll need to cover these. Is this from Beomjae?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, catching the muttered “that bastard�� that escaped him. Jeonghan’s eyes met yours, a silent promise lingering there: no more bruises, not after today.

On the day of the Jeon annual event, you arrived with Jeonghan, knowing full well the storm of media attention it would draw. 'Mingyu's girlfriend seen with Jeonghan, while Mingyu arrives with the ex-fiancée who left him at the altar.' The headline alone promised chaos and scandal.

Jeonghan had made you two promises. First, he would help you with Beomjae. His legal team was already working on investigating the debt that bound you to that abusive man, ensuring you wouldn't owe a penny and that Beomjae would face justice for what he had done. Second, he would help you reclaim yourself—to feel whole and worthy, with or without Mingyu in the picture.

“Tell me, since when?” Jeonghan’s question came out of nowhere as the two of you drove back from his store that day. The question made your heart stutter.

“Since when what?” you asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Jeonghan scoffed lightly, his eyes flickering with a knowing glint. “Since when did you start liking Mingyu?”

The silence stretched, and you searched your memory, trying to pinpoint the moment. Since when? Had you even realized you still liked him? Or was it a relic of the childhood crush you’d once harbored? Memories trickled in: Mingyu as the boy who would lose every game with his friends but somehow always win when he played with you—because you let him. That’s what you remembered most clearly. The rest blurred into moments that felt as if they had always existed.

In high school, things shifted. Conversations became sparse, reserved for those rare moments when home felt stifling, and you’d climb into each other’s bedroom windows just to share the silence. Then, without warning, he had to leave. Distance stretched across miles and years, and life pushed you apart. Your father’s passing forced you to sell your phone, cutting off all contact. What once felt close turned distant, and the feelings that remained had never been addressed.

You exhaled shakily, unable to meet Jeonghan’s gaze. “I...I don’t know,” you admitted. Shame colored your voice—shame that after everything, after being discarded and treated like an afterthought, you still cared for him.

Jeonghan’s arm encircled your waist as the two of you stepped into the grand ballroom, the low hum of whispers swelling as eyes followed your entrance. The whispers said everything you were thinking. Why was Mingyu’s girlfriend with Jeonghan when Mingyu had walked in with Hyorin? The question echoed in your mind too.

Jeonghan, ever composed, treated you like royalty throughout the event. His voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned in. “Just follow my lead,” he instructed. If anyone knew how to navigate this social minefield, it was him.

But when you excused yourself to go to the restroom, a hand shot out from the shadows of the corridor, pulling you into a quiet corner. Your back hit the wall, and you were met with Mingyu’s fierce gaze, a tempest swirling in his eyes.

“Why are you here with Jeonghan? He’s my friend,” Mingyu hissed, voice laced with anger barely contained.

You lifted your chin, meeting his glare head-on. “Am I not allowed to be here? Is it because of my status?” The pointed question carried the sting of Hyorin’s earlier remark: ‘You’re not on Mingyu’s level, Y/N.’

Mingyu’s brows pulled together in frustration. “What? That’s not what I meant! I’m asking why you’re with Jeonghan.” His voice strained as he pressed you lightly against the wall.

You took a steadying breath, finding a surge of confidence within yourself. “Because you didn’t invite me. Jeonghan did."

“Everyone knows you’re my girlfriend!” His voice cracked, the desperation seeping through.

You scoffed, your eyes narrowing. “But you showed up with your ex, so tell me, Mingyu, what’s the difference?”

He faltered, searching for words. “I didn’t come with her. We just met here!”

“Does it even matter?” Your voice dropped, quiet and weary. The fight in you waned as reality set in.

Mingyu’s eyes blazed with anger as your words echoed between you. He took a sharp breath, fists clenching at his sides. “What’s gotten into you? Are you even hearing yourself? We’re still in contract!” he reminded you, his tone harsh and commanding.

“So what? We already broke the contract the moment you put your hands on me, Mingyu,” you shot back, holding your ground. “There’s nothing in the agreement saying other men can’t do the same.”

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as he stepped closer, the space between you suffocating. “Did you sleep with Jeonghan?” The question came out as a growl, possessive and edged with jealousy.

You tilted your chin defiantly. “It’s not your business, Mingyu. I can do whatever I want.”

“No,” he said, voice low but brimming with fury. “You’re my girlfriend. I paid you to be my girlfriend, and you should listen to me. We’re going home.”

The statement cut through you, reminding you of the transactional nature of what was supposed to be a façade. It was true, he’d paid you to play this role, but somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. Your heart thudded in your chest as you wondered what awaited you once you returned to his house. The memory of last night lingered—how your bodies had moved in sync, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But tonight, the air was different, thick with tension and unspoken truths. You swallowed hard, worrying if there were still any condoms left in his house, remembering using the last one in a moment of impulsive passion. Your pulse quickened at the thought of what this confrontation could mean, unsure whether it would spiral into a battle or ignite something deeper.

*

Hyorin had asked you that one time, "Are you two sleeping together in our room?" Her question was layered with implications. Was she trying to confirm if you and Mingyu had crossed that line? Or was she mocking you by emphasizing our room, as if to remind you that she once had ownership over that space, even after she left him on the altar? Your mind raced with anger and confusion. The only thing you wanted to do as you sat across from her was to slap that smug smile off her face. How dare she come back after everything she'd done?

“Why?” The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Hyorin’s smile widened, cruel and taunting. “Well, he doesn’t like anyone else in his bed, so I was wondering if you sleep there, in our room. I mean, the master bedroom. I’m sorry…” Her tone dripped with insincerity, and you knew she wasn’t sorry at all.

The memory stung as you woke up before dawn. You were back in your own room, while Mingyu lay sleeping beside you. The events of last night still echoed in your mind. After he dragged you out of the event, you had dared to ask him, almost pleading, if the two of you could sleep in his room instead.

“No. I don’t like when someone else enters my room,” he had said, his voice cold and detached.

“But you said I’m your girlfriend,” you had whispered, trying to understand where you truly stood.

Mingyu’s gaze darkened. “You’re just a girlfriend I paid for. Don’t ask for more.”

The words cut through you like a blade. You sighed and gently pulled yourself from his embrace, a hollowness settling deep inside. It was time. You couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

He had Hyorin back. The proof sat on the nightstand—his check for 35 billion won, neatly tucked under his phone. Your job was done. Everything you had endured, every humiliation and compromise, had led to this. And it wasn’t enough to let you into his real space, his heart. You knew then that Jeonghan was right; staying by Mingyu’s side would only continue to break you.

You packed your essentials silently, fighting the lump in your throat, and slipped out of the house before the sun rose. You drove aimlessly, just needing to be far away. Your apartment wasn’t safe with Beomjae still lurking; Jeonghan had warned you that it might take two more months to gather enough evidence to protect you in court. He urged patience, but today you had none left.

All this time, every sacrifice you made for Mingyu, every part of yourself you gave, it was never enough for him to let you into his true sanctuary. It was time to go, time to leave behind the pain and reclaim whatever was left of yourself.

Mingyu woke up to an emptiness that gnawed at him immediately. He reached out instinctively, expecting to feel your warmth beside him, but his hand met only cold sheets. He sat up, confusion creasing his brow as he glanced around the room. The stillness was unsettling, the house too quiet.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice breaking the silence. He listened, hoping for the sound of your voice or even the light shuffle of your footsteps. Nothing. A wave of irritation surged through him as he threw back the covers and stood up, the cool floor beneath his feet doing nothing to temper his rising anger.

He strode through the house, checking the kitchen, the living room, even the guest room. Empty. The frustration that had simmered inside him since the event now boiled over. Why would you leave without saying anything?

As he stormed back into yout room, something on the nightstand caught his eye. The check he had written for you sat there, staring back at him like an accusation. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. The sight of it made his blood run cold and hot all at once.

It was the final insult. You hadn’t just left—you had left him with the one thing that symbolized the transactional nature of your relationship, the thing that once gave him control but now mocked him with your absence. He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. The implications of you leaving the check behind sent a spike of panic through him, laced with anger. You were rejecting everything: the arrangement, the money, him.

“Damn it, Y/n!” he roared, sweeping his arm across the nightstand. The check, his phone, and a glass of water crashed to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the room, mirroring the turmoil inside him.

He paced back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The idea of you walking out without a word gnawed at him. You had always been the one constant in his chaotic life, the one person who, despite everything, was there. Now, the emptiness felt sharper than ever, and he realized too late how deep your absence cut.

Mingyu grabbed his phone from the floor, ignoring the cracked screen as he tried to call you. The call rang once, twice, and then went straight to voicemail. Frustration clawed at him as he dialed again, the unanswered call only fueling his desperation.

“Pick up, damn it,” he muttered under his breath. The third call met the same fate, and it was then that a sinking feeling set in. This wasn’t just you leaving for a break. This was different.

He stared at the check on the floor, now crumpled and stained with water. The reality of your departure settled heavily on his chest. You were gone, and for the first time, he felt the weight of what it meant to be truly alone.

*

Mingyu stormed into Jeonghan's office first thing in the morning, his eyes dark with urgency and frustration. Jeonghan, who had been informed of his sudden arrival, greeted him with a polite smile that quickly faded at the sight of Mingyu’s tense expression.

"Where’s Y/n?" Mingyu demanded, his voice sharp and accusing. Jeonghan’s smile faltered as confusion clouded his features. What did he mean?

"She’s gone, Jeonghan. And you were with her last night," Mingyu continued, his tone carrying a hint of accusation, referencing the moment you arrived at the event on Jeonghan’s arm.

Jeonghan’s brows knitted together, a flash of realization and disbelief crossing his face. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "You were the one who took her home. You dragged her out of the event, remember?"

Mingyu’s expression darkened, and he muttered a curse under his breath. "Shit."

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, studying the man in front of him. "What’s going on, Mingyu?" he pressed, his voice steady but probing. The room felt heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.

Mingyu bit his lip, his eyes darting around as if searching for the right words. "It’s... complicated," he finally mumbled, his shoulders tense.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "What could possibly be too complicated for me to understand? The contract? The debt? Spill it."

Mingyu’s eyes widened slightly. He knew? Did you tell Jeonghan everything? After a moment’s hesitation, Mingyu nodded, acknowledging Jeonghan’s knowledge. His mind raced as he tried to piece together what you might have shared.

"I wrote her a check for 35 billion won. She was in debt, so I helped her, and in return, she helped me with... well, everything. But now she’s gone," Mingyu’s voice cracked as he threw his hands up in exasperation, his frustration palpable.

Jeonghan was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a deep sigh, he said, "She didn’t take the money."

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat, disbelief flickering across his face. Did you tell Jeonghan that as well? The thought of you leaving behind the money he had given you felt like a slap in the face.

"If she’s gone, she’s really gone, Mingyu," Jeonghan said quietly, a hint of empathy coloring his tone. "You have Hyorin back, don’t you?"

Mingyu’s eyes flashed with something close to desperation. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. "This isn’t about Hyorin," he said, almost growling the words.

Jeonghan nodded slowly, a knowing look settling on his face. "I know. You're confused right now, I can tell. But maybe you need to ask yourself why it’s not about Hyorin anymore."

Mingyu paced back and forth in Jeonghan’s office, his mind racing with thoughts that tangled and frayed like a rope under too much pressure. Every moment that passed without you felt like sand slipping through an hourglass, a reminder of how close he was to losing you for good.

“Jeonghan, tell me where she went,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, a rare vulnerability shining through his usually composed demeanor. He wasn’t used to feeling so out of control, and it gnawed at him.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, watching him with a look that was part sympathy, part indifference. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Jeonghan said, his tone as calm as ever. “You need to figure this out for yourself, Mingyu. Chasing her without understanding why she left won’t help either of you.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, frustration coursing through him. “I don’t need a lecture, Jeonghan. I need answers,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “You said you knew everything, so why won’t you help me?”

Jeonghan sighed and stood up, walking over to the window where sunlight filtered in, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. “Mingyu, you’re looking for her like she’s an answer to a problem. But she’s not an answer—she’s a person who needed more than you were willing to give,” Jeonghan said, turning to face him. “And if you don’t understand that, you won’t find her in any meaningful way.”

Mingyu’s breath quickened as anger and panic warred inside him. He wanted to shout, to lash out, but deep down, he knew Jeonghan was right. You had left, and it wasn’t just because of Hyorin, or the contract, or the money—it was because he hadn’t given you what you truly needed. A place in his life that was more than just obligation or arrangement.

Mingyu paused in the doorway, half-turned back to Jeonghan, who was still watching him with an expression that mingled curiosity and challenge. The silence crackled between them, charged and tense.

“I’m doing this because she’s my friend,” Mingyu finally said, his voice strained as if he was convincing himself as much as Jeonghan. “I love Hyorin. I always have. This isn’t about feelings, it’s about doing the right thing.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, a wry smile curving his lips. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the window frame. “Your friend?” he echoed, the words laced with skepticism. “Mingyu, if she was just a friend, you wouldn’t be standing here, desperate and wild-eyed because she left. You wouldn’t have risked everything to keep her by your side.”

“I’m not risking anything!” Mingyu’s voice rose, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m looking for her because she needs help, not because—”

“Not because what?” Jeonghan cut in, raising an eyebrow. “Not because you’re afraid of losing her? Not because seeing her with someone else drove you crazy last night? Tell me, Mingyu, what kind of ‘friend’ does that?”

Mingyu felt the heat creep up his neck, anger and confusion tangling in his chest. He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words. Every accusation Jeonghan made landed too close to the truth, hitting on a part of him he refused to acknowledge.

“It’s not like that,” Mingyu muttered, though even to his own ears, it sounded hollow. “She’s different. She was there for me when no one else was, and now she’s gone. I owe her, Jeonghan. That’s all.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, his expression softening for a moment. “If you owe her, then give her more than just this frantic search. Be honest with yourself. If she’s just a friend, why did you let her become more? And if she’s more, why are you fighting so hard to deny it?”

Mingyu looked down, the room blurring as his thoughts spiraled. Memories of you, laughter shared in quiet moments, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him—all of it clashed with the image of Hyorin, the woman he once thought he’d spend his life with. The weight of conflicting emotions pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.

He turned away from Jeonghan without another word, storming out of the office, his mind a chaotic mess.

Jeonghan sighed as he pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping impatiently as he called you. It took five rings before you finally picked up.

"Sorry, I had a shoot," you muttered, your voice laced with exhaustion. But that wasn’t the answer Jeonghan was looking for.

"You didn’t take the money. What is wrong with you?" he shot back, frustration sharp in his tone.

There was a pause on your end, the kind of pause that said more than words ever could. Then, a quiet sigh slipped through. "How do you know?"

"Kim Mingyu stormed into my office looking for you," Jeonghan said, his voice growing more clipped. "He’s running around like a madman, and you didn’t take the money! I thought we were clear, Y/n."

But it hadn’t been clear, and Jeonghan knew that. It was never clear when it came to you and Mingyu. Silence lingered on the line, thick and telling.

You thought you’d fallen in love alone.

Jeonghan wanted to scream at you, to tell you that Mingyu loved you back. He wanted to shout that Mingyu’s ego was too big for him to admit it, that Hyorin was a convenient excuse, and that the people around him had only ever clouded his judgment. But Jeonghan wasn’t naive. He knew Mingyu better than that. Deep down, he knew Mingyu cared for you. No, it was more than that — Mingyu wanted you. He just didn’t know how to want you properly.

"It’s complicated," you muttered, the words barely above a breath.

Jeonghan pressed a hand to his forehead, fingers threading through his hair. Since when had he, of all people, failed to understand "complicated"? He'd seen it from the beginning — the way Mingyu's gaze lingered too long on you, the way your eyes softened at the sight of him. He saw it every time Mingyu made an excuse for you to stay. Complicated was an understatement.

"Okay," Jeonghan exhaled heavily, trying to stay calm. "Where are you?"

"Why should I tell you?" you countered, voice laced with weariness and defiance. "I’m just at a shoot. It’s a little far away."

Jeonghan let out a dry scoff. "Don’t play with me, Y/n. I’m not in the mood." His eyes darted to the window, the sunlight blinding but not nearly as irritating as the situation. "I need to make sure Beomjae doesn't get to you. Who’s gonna do that after you left Mingyu, huh?"

There was another pause, and this time it lasted longer. The weight of his words settled into the air, heavy and undeniable.

"Jeju," you finally admitted, voice quieter than before. "I’m in Jeju Island."

Jeonghan closed his eyes, letting the tension drain from his body. His head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling, lips curling into a faint, bitter smile.

"Of course you are," he muttered to himself, glancing out at the sky as if Jeju was close enough to see.

*

It was hard to control everything rationally when your heart had been battered one too many times — and it always seemed to be by the people you cared about most. Your father had left you with a crushing 35-billion-won debt. Your mother had left you behind as if you’d never existed. And now, Mingyu... You couldn’t even put into words what he had done to you, perhaps because he’d never truly been yours to begin with. He was just a friend. A friend who made you his contractual lover. How had it all come to this?

"That’s a wrap for tonight! Thank you so much for your hard work, everyone!" Boo Seungkwan's voice rang out loud and clear on set, cutting through the evening air.

He was the one who had cast you himself — handpicked you to play the lead in his film about a woman struggling with depression, seeking the meaning of life on Jeju Island. He’d told you he saw something in you, something raw and unspoken.

What a cruel twist of fate, you thought. The script no longer felt like a story you were telling. It had become your story. Every scene, every line, every emotion you were asked to portray felt like you were reliving your own pain on screen.

The crew slowly packed up, their tired voices fading as they made their way back to the rented house to rest. But you stayed behind, drawn to the shore like it had called your name. The night air was cool against your skin, and the steady lull of the waves was the only sound accompanying your thoughts.

You sat by the edge of the water, hugging your knees as you gazed at your reflection in the rippling surface. The moonlight softened the contours of your face, but it didn’t soften the hollow look in your eyes. The water moved, shimmering, shifting — it looked like it was calling you. Come closer, it seemed to say.

But you knew better. You knew that chasing that call wouldn’t solve anything. Ending it here wouldn’t leave anyone with peace — it would only leave scars. The kind of scars your mother had left behind when she vanished. She had been forgotten by most people, but for the ones who had loved her, the wounds never quite healed.

Who loves you, though?

The question struck you like a sudden gust of wind. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but tonight, the ache was sharper.

Has anyone ever truly loved you?

Your mind wandered to your first love.

Your first kiss.

Your first everything.

All of them had been with Kim Mingyu.

You blinked, your lips parting to whisper his name, "Kim Mingyu..." The sound of it disappeared into the breeze, unnoticed and unanswered.

It was foolish, you knew. Because at the end of it all, Mingyu didn’t love you. He loved someone else. Wi Hyorin.

Her name alone carried a weight you didn’t want to bear, but it settled on you regardless.

What’s so great about Wi Hyorin? you wondered bitterly, clenching your fists against your knees. Your heart wanted to scoff, but your mind was crueler.

She’s soft-spoken. Calm. Composed. Smart. And from a wealthy, well-respected family.

You let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp like glass breaking. Of course, it made sense. She was everything you weren’t.

So what about you?

Your lips pressed into a thin line. No words came to mind. Not a single one. Because what could you offer him? Debt? Baggage? A heart too bruised to believe in love anymore?

Nothing. That’s what.

The ocean breeze brushed past you, cold but oddly comforting, like a quiet reassurance that you were still here. Still alive. Still breathing. The waves rolled in and out, persistent and unyielding, never once doubting their place in the world. You envied them.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of the sea fill the hollow space inside you.

If only love could be as steady as the tide.

"Ji Y/n..."

The familiar voice made you freeze, your heart lurching in your chest. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the call.

Your eyes widened. Kim Mingyu.

He stood there, breathless, still in his office attire, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled. His chest rose and fell with each sharp breath, as if he’d run straight from the city to find you. His gaze locked on yours, his brows drawn together in a deep, urgent frown.

"You—" you stumbled toward him, your mind scrambling for words. "How did you get here? Why are you here?"

He chuckled lightly, a dry, breathless sound. His eyes, however, were far from playful. They were intense, sharp with resolve.

"You really want me to chase you, huh?" His voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for you.

Before you could even process his words, he moved. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, firm but gentle at the same time. His warmth seeped into you, his heartbeat thudding steadily against your ear. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, caught completely off guard by his sudden embrace.

"Mingyu, what are you—"

"I need you, Y/n." His voice was low, rough, filled with something raw and unfiltered. He leaned his head down, his breath fanning lightly against your hair. His words fell like quiet confessions against your ear, each one carrying more weight than the last. "I need you in my life."

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear.

"You’re—" you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyes, usually so guarded, were bare now, stripped of all his usual bravado. You saw it there — the honesty, the fear, the vulnerability. The love.

Your heartbeat felt like it stopped entirely when his next words fell from his lips.

"I think I love you, Y/n," he said, his gaze unwavering, his tone steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling between you both.

You blinked, stunned into silence. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, faster and faster until it felt like it might burst.

"But..." Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "What about Hyorin?"

Mingyu’s eyes softened. He let out a slow, measured breath, as if he’d been waiting for that question. His hand cupped the back of your head, his thumb gently tracing small circles against your hair. His forehead leaned against yours, eyes closed, his next words spoken with absolute certainty.

"Not once in the past three months did I think about anyone but you."

The weight of his words crushed every doubt you’d been holding. It wasn’t just something he’d said to convince you — it was the truth, raw and undeniable.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your chest tight with the weight of all the unspoken feelings you’d been burying for so long.

"You’re cruel," you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to hold back your tears. "You’re so, so cruel, Kim Mingyu."

"I know," he murmured, his eyes opening to meet yours, filled with guilt and something that looked too close to regret. "But I’m here now, Y/n. I’m here."

His arms tightened around you, his embrace firm and unyielding, as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

"And I’m not letting you go this time," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an unshakable resolve.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven waves as you stared into his eyes. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Your heart wanted to believe him, but your mind, bruised and battered by everything that had come before, hesitated.

"You say that now," you muttered, your gaze dropping to his chest where your hands rested, still clutching his shirt. "But what happens when it gets hard again, Mingyu? What happens when Hyorin looks at you like you’re her whole world, and you start to doubt this—" You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "—start to doubt me?"

He tilted his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "I won’t."

"How can you be so sure?" Your voice cracked on the last word. "How am I supposed to believe you when it’s always been her? She was your dream, your everything. I was just—" Your voice broke entirely, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. "I was just convenient."

"Stop," Mingyu said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. He cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him, really look at him. His eyes were darker than usual, filled with something you hadn’t seen before — clarity.

"You were never convenient," he said, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closing as he breathed you in, like you were air after suffocating too long. "You were the only thing that ever made sense."

Your chest tightened, your breath hitching as you fought against the onslaught of emotions threatening to pull you under. "You’re just saying that because I left. People always want what they can’t have."

"No," he replied, his voice low but steady, carrying the weight of everything he’d been too blind to see before. "People always want what they’ve already lost."

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in the distance, rhythmic and unending, a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you both.

"You didn’t lose me, Mingyu," you whispered, your voice small but certain. "You gave me away."

His face contorted with pain, his brows furrowing as if your words had physically struck him. His hands fell from your face, his head dropping low, his breathing sharp and shallow.

"You’re right," he muttered, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I did."

You took a step back, needing space to breathe, needing distance before your heart betrayed you again. "So why are you here now, Mingyu? What do you want from me?"

He lifted his head, eyes wild with desperation, his gaze locking onto yours with a ferocity you’d never seen before. He stepped forward, closing the distance you’d tried to create.

"I want you," he said with such raw intensity that it left you breathless. "Not as a friend. Not as an arrangement. I want you because I’m in love with you, Y/n. And it took me losing you to realize it, but I know it now. I know it with every part of me."

Your breath hitched. The waves crashed louder in the distance, or maybe it was the thundering of your heart in your ears. You shook your head, backing away another step, but Mingyu followed.

"You’re just scared," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re scared because I hurt you. I get it. I hurt you worse than anyone else ever has, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you I won’t hurt you again."

"Don’t promise me things you can’t keep, Mingyu," you said, your voice trembling with exhaustion and heartbreak. "I’m so tired of hearing people say they’ll stay, only for them to walk away."

"I’m not walking away," he said, his eyes glinting with determination. His voice didn’t rise, but it carried a conviction so strong that it made you pause. He took one slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze unwavering. "If you tell me to leave, I will. But if you tell me to stay, Y/n, I’ll never leave again. I swear it."

His words hung in the air between you, delicate but unbreakable.

Your breath trembled, your body taut like a wire pulled too tight. "And if you’re lying?"

"I’m not," he answered immediately, his gaze steady and sure. "But if I ever do, you won’t have to leave me, Y/n. I’ll walk away myself, knowing I never deserved you in the first place."

Silence. Long, heavy, unbearable silence.

The waves filled it. The seagulls in the distance filled it. But you didn’t speak.

He stood there, waiting, holding himself still like he was afraid that any sudden movement might scare you away. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath measured, but his eyes... his eyes didn’t waver once.

"I hate you," you said softly, but your voice cracked in a way that betrayed you.

Mingyu exhaled a small, almost broken laugh. "I know."

"I hate how easy it is for you to say these things now," you continued, your lips trembling, tears brimming once more. "I hate how much I want to believe you."

"Then believe me," he said, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to take yours. He held it gently, like he was holding something fragile and precious. His eyes searched yours, soft but certain. "Believe me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you made the right choice."

You stared at him, his words sinking in, the sincerity of it wrapping around your heart like a thread you couldn’t untangle. It terrified you how much you wanted to believe him.

"Mingyu," you whispered, his name a breath, a plea, a warning all in one.

"I’m here," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’m right here."

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you hated him for that too. Why did he always make you cry? Your fingers gripped his shirt, your forehead pressing against his chest as the weight of everything came crashing down.

"You better not be lying," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled but not lost. "If you are, I’ll never forgive you."

Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in with a tenderness that shattered every wall you’d built. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

"I’m not lying," he whispered, his voice steady as the waves beyond you both. "I’m never lying to you again."

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him.

*

"Cut!"

The director’s voice echoed through the set, and the entire crew let out a collective sigh of relief. Mingyu watched from the sidelines, his gaze fixed on you. His lips tugged into a small, proud smile as he saw you beam at everyone, bowing politely and thanking each crew member for their hard work. Your energy was infectious, even after a long day of filming.

"That’s a wrap, everyone!" Boo Seungkwan, the ever-lively director, announced with his trademark enthusiasm.

Mingyu stepped forward, his presence as commanding as ever in his sleek suit. Seungkwan spotted him and grinned, walking over with open arms. They exchanged a firm handshake, the weight of trust and friendship clear in the gesture.

"This movie better be a hit," Mingyu joked, his deep voice laced with playful seriousness.

Seungkwan snorted, rolling his eyes. "With your investment? It better be. I’m not about to ruin my spotless reputation."

"You should be grateful," Mingyu shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I let you use my name and my wife's name for this movie. And I even let her make a cameo appearance." His grin widened with mock arrogance, and Seungkwan waved him off like he’d heard it all before.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Mr. Investor," Seungkwan quipped, tilting his head in a sarcastic bow. "I’ll be sure to write that in the credits — 'With gracious permission from Kim Mingyu, the benevolent.' How’s that sound?"

Mingyu's laugh came from deep in his chest, sharp and rich with amusement. "Don’t forget to add 'world’s most handsome husband' in there too," he added, eyes flicking toward you as you approached.

Seungkwan's gaze followed Mingyu's line of sight, and his face lit up as he noticed you walking toward them. Your smile was bright, your strides light and confident, even as exhaustion clung to the edges of your movements.

"Amazing," Seungkwan muttered under his breath, his grin turning sly as he watched Mingyu’s entire demeanor soften.

“Thank you so much for letting me be part of this movie, Director Boo,” you greeted Seungkwan warmly. Your voice was light, your eyes crinkling with genuine gratitude.

“Trust me, I wish I could’ve had you in more scenes,” Seungkwan replied, shooting a teasing look at Mingyu. “But this man refused to let me put you in for more than two.”

Mingyu, as if on cue, jabbed at Seungkwan’s side, but Seungkwan dodged with the agility of someone who had been friends with Mingyu for far too long.

"Don’t listen to him," you said, letting out a soft, melodic laugh. Your hand rested lightly on Mingyu’s arm, grounding him in a way only you could. "I would’ve been happy with more scenes. Honestly, I would’ve loved to do more if you'd asked."

Seungkwan’s eyes widened with dramatic flair as he whipped around to face Mingyu. "See? See? Your wife doesn’t mind. She’s a professional, unlike some people I know."

Mingyu shook his head, his lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite hide his possessiveness. "Nope. Absolutely not. I’m the one who minds," he declared, his eyes darting to you like he was staking a claim. "My wife is pregnant, and she needs to rest. No long shoots, no late nights, no unnecessary stress."

You shot him a playful glare, pinching his side just hard enough to make him flinch. “My husband is a bit noisy, isn’t he?” you said, glancing at Seungkwan like you were seeking solidarity.

Seungkwan raised both hands in surrender, his smile wide with amusement. “Don’t look at me. I’m not about to go against Mr. Handsome Husband, World’s Best Protector.” He snickered, his eyes darting between you and Mingyu. "But if it were up to me, you’d be in every scene."

Mingyu pulled you close by the waist, his hand resting protectively on your lower back, his thumb rubbing soft, absentminded circles. He leaned in, his eyes filled with that familiar mix of pride and adoration he could never seem to hide.

“It’s not up to you, Seungkwan,” he muttered, his gaze never leaving you. “We’ll be taking our leave now, Director Boo. My wife needs to rest.”

His words were simple, but the affection in his tone made your cheeks warm. You glanced at him, your eyes softening, and this time, you didn’t fight him on it.

“Take care, Director,” you said with a small bow. Seungkwan waved you off with a knowing grin, watching the two of you walk away.

“Yeah, yeah, go be all in love or whatever,” he called out, unable to hide the affection in his teasing.

As you walked side by side with Mingyu, his hand firm and steady on your back, you glanced up at him with a small smile.

“Possessive much?” you teased quietly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Protective,” he corrected, glancing down at you with that look that always made your heart stumble. His eyes softened as they lingered on you, his voice quieter now. "I’m protecting what’s mine."

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers intertwined with his, and you squeezed his hand just a little tighter.

“Okay, Mr. Handsome Husband, World’s Best Protector,” you murmured, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked off into the evening light.

*

Seungkwan sat with the entire cast during the promotional interview for his highly anticipated movie. The host was lively and charismatic, effortlessly guiding the conversation while bringing out the natural chemistry between the cast. Laughter filled the room, and the atmosphere was warm and relaxed.

“Director Boo,” the host began with a playful grin, leaning forward with curiosity. “You mentioned that this movie was inspired by your friend’s story, right? Care to spill a little tea on that?”

Laughter erupted from the cast and audience. Seungkwan’s eyes widened, and he waved his hands frantically as if to push away the implication. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he quickly composed himself.

“Ah, I don’t want anyone to misunderstand,” Seungkwan said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “It’s not like that. I drew inspiration from a lot of places — life experiences, stories I’ve heard, observations. But,” he paused, his grin turning sly, “I’ll admit, my favorite actress, Ji Y/n, agreed to make a cameo, and we did use her name and her husband’s name for the characters.”

“Oho!” the host gasped, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Using your friend’s actual names? Sounds very intentional, Director Boo!”

More laughter followed, with some of the cast members playfully nudging Seungkwan as if to expose him further.

“Look, look, look,” Seungkwan chuckled, his hands raised in surrender. “It’s not like their relationship is exactly like the one in the movie. It’s totally the opposite, I promise!” His gaze flickered to the camera, as if directly addressing the viewers. “They’re an amazing couple, honestly. The kind of couple that makes you believe in love again.”

The host’s eyes narrowed with mock suspicion, leaning forward like he’d just uncovered a scandal. “So you’re telling me that you just so happened to name the characters after them and just so happened to cast her as a cameo?”

The audience howled with laughter, and Seungkwan pressed his palms together in a mock plea for mercy. “I’m innocent, I swear! I’m just a man trying to tell a good story!”

"Glad he didn’t mention that the 35 billion won contract was actually true," you muttered, eyes glued to the television as the interview played. Your three-month-old daughter, Sera, lay in your arms, breastfeeding peacefully. Her tiny fingers occasionally curled and uncurled against your skin.

Mingyu let out a long, exasperated sigh from beside you. "I should’ve read the script myself before signing that deal," he groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. "I didn’t think Seungkwan would actually bring up the contract."

"Why? Feeling a little exposed now?" you teased, shooting him a sly grin. "Starting to see what an asshole you were back then?"

His gasp was immediate, his eyes wide with faux horror. "Language, woman!" he said dramatically, reaching over to cover baby Sera’s tiny ears. "She can hear you, you know."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. Gently, you lifted Sera from your chest and placed her carefully in her crib. Her lips puckered in her sleep, and her little body shifted slightly before settling back into slumber. You watched her for a moment longer, letting that familiar warmth fill your chest.

With Sera safe and sound, you made your way back to Mingyu, plopping down beside him on the couch. Your head found a home against his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles.

“It’s true, though,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling as if reliving the memory. “Everyone thought I was gay, and somehow, my genius solution was to get a contractual girlfriend.” He shook his head at his younger self, clearly unimpressed.

"But you have to admit," you murmured, your voice low and teasing, "I was way too gorgeous to pass up, huh?"

Mingyu glanced down at you, his eyes softening with that look he reserved only for you. A slow, crooked smile spread across his face, and he let out a quiet chuckle, the deep rumble of it vibrating through his chest.

"You are," he said simply, his hand coming up to rest on top of yours. "The most gorgeous mistake I ever made… and the only one I’d make again."

His words were so sincere, so steady, that it made your heart squeeze in your chest. You tilted your head up, catching his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. It was one of those rare silences where everything was already understood.

"Smooth talker," you whispered, lips curling into a smile as you leaned up to kiss him softly.

"Only for you," he replied, his voice a little quieter now, his eyes still locked on you like you were the only person in the world.

And in moments like this — with your baby girl sleeping soundly nearby and the man who once made the worst mistake of his life now holding you like you were his greatest treasure — you believed it.

[anadiasmount]

home is you - jb blurb.

quick sum: just a small fluffy husband jude blurb!! merry christmas to all those who celebrate!! my present to you 😉😉

“el es mi esposo!” you giggle, side hugging your cousin who stares at jude in disbelief. “el? el es tu esposo? que barbaridad y/n! te lo mereces,” she laughed with you as jude just shook his head slightly understanding what was going on. (he is my husband… him? he is your husband? oh wow! you deserve it…)

“why do people always react like that?” jude asked as he walked with you outside to the small table by the fire place. this year you spent christmas in your family’s home. a few hours away from where jude lived but it was such a dream. everyone was gushing over you and him, since some of your family hadn’t met him and didn’t know you were married.

“some of my family here i haven’t seen or heard of them in years! meaning they didn’t know i was married yet again to who. so when they see you that’s why they react like that,” you explain with a huge grin. “yeah i got that but it’s like they’re almost shocked,” jude said, bringing you to his lap as your head found home on his shoulder. his hands grazing your legs.

“well before you, they always called me or thought of me of someone who would’ve ever settle down,” you shrugged. “i’ve always been dedicated to school and work, so they teased me a lot growing up, but look at me now. i’m getting my masters and married el amor de mi vida,” you whispered in spanish kissing the mole between his neck and collar bone. (the love of my life…)

“i love when you speak spanish you know? it sounds so sexy yet you make it me fall under a spell. whether it’s you yelling at me, just saying some phrases or curses, i love it,” jude pointed your interlocking your left hand with his right, looking down at your wedding rings. “i love your tiny accent, especially that stupid grin you do when people awe you,” you squint your eyes, jude throwing his head back dying.

“they can’t resist me amor, just like you…”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, cuddling closer to him. enjoying his warmth and scent. during the last few days you guys were so attached, you couldn’t stop introducing him to everyone since someone new always arrived. during dinners you would be seated together, at night in your childhood bedroom you slept close, legs and limbs tangled, on your twin bed. or like right now, away from everyone and just you two being jude and y/n.

“everyone adores you by the way, i don’t know if you noticed but they can’t stop gushing about you to me, which makes me feel sooooo happy and just overwhelmed,” you explained, stroking your thumb against his skin. “i’ve noticed, your mom pulled me aside yesterday after i was bombarded with questions by your tias, they asked who i was and what i did! it was when you were still asleep,” jude said kissing your temple.

“is that a new perfume?” he asked feeling you nod.

“yes i got it a week ago, when i went shopping for your gifts,” you said. “never take it off. it smells so amazing on you,” jude complimented you making your blood warm in sweetness. “did you like your gifts?” you asked curious, you were the type of person of buying they whole list because you were indecisive on what to get, or the type to ask after they opened it if they liked it or not. “i loved them. every. single. one.” jude said while kissing down your cheek to your jaw.

“but this one will forever be my favorite,” jude brought your left hand up and kissed your wedding rings. “you’re my favorite person in this world. not only that but my best friend until death do us part. you know me like no one else does, and are there for not just me but our families and friends. you’re the best gift i could ever ask for… mi bella esposa,” jude said making you pout as your heart beat out of your chest. (my beautiful wife…)

no matter how long you knew him, he never stopped giving you butterflies.

“are you re-saying your vows to me?” you teased, jude chuckled. “not even close. i think during our wedding ceremony i spoke for almost 20 minutes. and i wasn’t even done! the priest cut me off!” jude yelled, still bothered by what he’d done. “you also couldn’t stop crying,” you teased further, you sat up now straddling him, as your arms came behind his head and stoked the nape of his neck.

“literally why do you hate me. i did cry a lot that day, i couldn’t help myself, especially when you walked down the aisle, you were meant to be with me,” jude said, his hands stroking your sides and pushing your body closer to his. “forever and always for me…” he kissed the inner corner of your mouth, one hand coming down your spine.

“till death do us part…” you continued, your lips inching closer to his, teasing the kiss as you moved your head slightly to the side. jude licking his lips as he stared at yours.

“kiss me y/n,” jude stated, and you wasted no time, closing the gap and almost whimpered at the passion and beauty of it. his lips moving with your with delicacy yet with urgency. his sweet taste mixing with yours, the strokes of tongue making your eyes roll back as the kiss went deeper and deeper.

“tu eres mía para siempre.” (you’re mine forever…)

[randomfandomworks]

Now, I know what a fool I’ve been. But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again.

Bernard x GN!Head Elf!Reader

Synopsis: It’s believed that you and your fellow Head Elf couldn’t hate one another more. Isn’t it strange how wrong beliefs can be?

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Potential OOC & Probable Grammar mistakes

Pronouns Used: (You/Your)

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! This is my Christmas special, so I hope you enjoy a short rivals/enemies to lovers one shot with our favorite seasonal boyfriend, Bernard.

Post Dividers used within this post are made by @saradika-graphics

You and Bernard had never seen eye to eye that much was for certain. At every bit of confusion or conflict presented by the elves you both would only argue. It was a wonder that Santa, Scott Calvin, had continued to let you both hold the title of Head Elf. Seeing as how whenever you both were meant to handle a situation it ended in more disputes amongst the workers then any kind of resolution.

Yes, despite your shared circumstances, despite growing up through hundreds of years together, you just could never seem to understand the other. The only thing you seemed to agree on was ensuring the happiness of children around the world, and making sure your jobs were done well and properly.

Though even that wasn’t enough to stop your fighting. One year, you two had been quarreling about wrapping and what exactly was the proper way for the elves to wrap the presents. This argument came to be so out of hand that you fell behind schedule.

Half of the wrapping department was listening to you and the other half to him, and quite frankly it was slowing you all the way down. Cutting your production time by at least half if not more than. You had only made it to Christmas on schedule that year by the slimmest of margins and it was most certainly not easy. Which made you all the more uncertain of what your current situation would present for you.

It was an almost silent night amongst the North Pole as you walked with your Co-Head Elf, Bernard, the small bells on the two of your outfits ringing softly with every step. You were both doing your hardest to discuss and agree upon the best plan to amplify production. As to avoid any big arguments that may lead to another production and schedule delay.

As you walked you both came out onto a terrace of the pole, it was snowing in light flurries as you both stood. The fresh falling snow slowly catching onto your clothes and forming very light halos of delicate snowflakes in your hair.

Each of you were rapidly speaking, and slightly disagreeing, with the other. Which was the case for quite a while until Bernard had taken a step back and paused suddenly, his eyes fixated above you both.

“Bernard?” You called, only growing more and more confused as he continued to ignore you. Until finally you yourself looked up, following his line of sight until it came into view. A small bundle of mistletoe hung between the two of you. A quick realization washed over you as you quickly attempted to fix the situation at hand.

“I promise I told the Decoration Department that this was in the wrong place.” You assured, continuing to look up at the mistletoe that was hung between you and Bernard.

And you had, earlier that day when you had been passing by this exact terrace you stopped to watch them work. Usually your decoration department did a wonderful job, going above and beyond for the look of the pole.

However as you watched them you noticed them hanging the traditional plant up above the terrace, and you had asked them to take it down, bringing up a few reasons as to why it had been decided not to be placed in this area before. Eventually they agreed with you and told you they would remove the mistletoe, pleased with that answer you found it okay to walk away and get started on another job you had to complete.

The mistletoe’s leaves glittered with a slight bit of Christmas magic, magic that the decorators always dusted across the mistletoe within the pole before they were put up. You looked back to your Co-Head Elf with slight worried glances, getting ready to combat anything he had to say about it.

Though when his gaze finally met yours it seemed as though he wasn’t upset or bothered by the classic decoration, in fact he didn’t show any sign of distaste. It was strange at first before it dawned on you, perhaps as opposites you were, whilst you were upset with the placement he was not. Perhaps instead he would decide he liked it, even if only to start an argument with you.

As these thoughts danced in your head you watched a bit of the shimmering magic flutter down and land on you. It occurred to you now what this meant. How the plant dangled so perfectly between you two symbolized more than a mistake of your decorators.

You turned to meet Bernard’s gaze once again, he’d been oddly quiet, usually the two of you would result in much more commotion. His eyes were expectant though patient, observing you and your every move as he waited for you to finally realize what you both had quite literally walked right into.

You looked at him for a moment more before speaking up, “We don’t have to.” You gave, no one was around to hold you to this, and surely neither of you felt you were necessarily in a position where you must.

You watched as he stared at you for a moment more, his face scrunching slightly, he did that when he was thinking. Which was something you had learned about him but never admitted to, much like many of his other traits.

You heard him chuckle softly as he met your stare again, those eyes, you thought, they were always so full of life. Always shining with this sparkle that you couldn’t help but feel matched the spark of joy that the Christmas season brought. They certainly made you feel lighter, more joyful even, despite who they may belong to.

“Why would I not want to kiss you?” He finally spoke. He asked it as though it was more than obvious that’s what he’d been willing, no, wanting to do, as if it’s what he had been waiting so long for. It made you feel almost idiotic, foolish even.

You watched him take a small step towards you. Your bodies and faces mere inches from each other, you could smell him from here. He always smelt first like the fresh fire in his office, a light Smokey scent followed by those classical Christmas ones. Gingerbread specifically with a slight hint of sweet peppermint.

You held his gaze, his eyes roaming across your face, finding their way back to your lips time and time again. As his hands slowly found their way to your waist, he was warm, a comforting warm. The kind you feel when you come inside after a walk in the winter or bundled in a sweater as you decorated for Christmas.

And from your place before him you could see every silver freckle dusted on his cheeks. He looked almost angelic, you found yourself thinking with the snow sticking to him and the familiar light in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered softly, a question to be shared with you and you alone. His voice was almost desperate, though he wouldn’t make any move until he had absolute certainty from you.

Your breath became stuck in your throat, you paused, unsure of what move you should make before you unconsciously replied, “Yes.” You found yourself whispering, nodding softly as your own voice subconsciously matched his desperation.

In almost an instant your lips were against his, one of his hands coming to cradle the back of your neck, the soft ends of his sweater brushing against your cheek as he did so, with his other hand pulling you closer from his hold on your waist.

He tasted almost as sweet as he smelled, just like the new sugar cookies the bakery had been working on, and cinnamon, from his hot chocolate you found yourself remembering. He always had his cocoa with cinnamon.

He pulled away from you with a shaky sigh, a sweet smile spreading to his face as the sparkle in his eye shone brighter than you thought it had perhaps ever had before. His hold on you was still gentle but enough to keep you close, almost as though he never wished to let you go.

Looking at him now, taking notice of every detail about him, and the way he smiled at you, a sweet, loving smile that warmed you even more than his hold. It all made you feel more of a fool than before.

Has he always looked at you this way?

Has the sight of his smile always swooned you?

And have you just been so oblivious as to ignore it?

It had been foolish for sure, your attitudes towards one another, the arguments, and specifically waiting so long for this.

Thinking it all over you couldn’t help but breathe him in and pull him in once again, putting a silence to your thoughts as you kissed him once more.

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

send requests ! <3

[mallowsweetmiri]

christmas miracle • fred weasley x reader

use #mallowsweetmicros to find my imagines!

Christmas at Hogwarts was your favorite time of year. Flurries outside your window, the crackling fires, the carols sung in the hallways. It all made you indescribably happy. Even the Gryffindor common room was decked out in garland and floating ornaments, the smell of fresh balsam in every corner. You sighed contentedly to yourself as you sat by the fire. Exams were finally over and you were set to head home on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. Things couldn’t be better.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being called from the portrait hole. It was Fred, George, and Lee. You waved at them and sat up, readjusting your blanket on your lap. To your surprise, only Fred continued towards you, waving to the other boys as they headed towards their dorm. George and Lee sent cheeky smiles your way.

“Hi,” you smiled, moving your books from the couch so he could sit.

“Hi love,” he beamed, taking a seat next to you. You blushed at his nickname. Fred had always been overly affectionate with most people, but you were grateful to have experienced it. You craved it, his hugs and his nicknames. The way he slung his arm around you at the Three Broomsticks. It made you smile and you didn’t care if it was just the way he was. It made you feel special.

“Excited to go home?” You asked, watching as he settled in. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his body turned towards you. You wished you could crawl into his lap, but you’d never have the courage to do so. Although, you doubted he’d mind.

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugged, the fire reflecting off his hair. “But I’m a little sad to leave this year.” You furrowed your brows and gave him a curious smile. It was hard not to smile with his contagious energy so close to you.

“Why is that?” You wondered aloud. He was usually boasting about going home to his mums cooking.

“To be honest, I wish I could spend Christmas with you,” he replied. You let out a huff as your smile grew without your knowledge.

“What?” You laughed, brushing your hair behind your ears in a feeble attempt to cool your blush.

“I’m sad I can’t watch you open my gift on actual Christmas,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. You shook your head at him, thoroughly confused. “But I figured two days before is close enough. So here, open it.” He grinned at you as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. You took it from him and bit your lip. It was small, rectangular, and fairly light. You pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid.

“Fred,” you gasped, pulling out the quill. “How did you even know I wanted this?” Your hand flew to cover your open mouth as you admired the pearl handled quill. You felt like Santa Claus had magically made your Christmas wish come true.

“I remember you admiring it when we were in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago,” Fred chuckled, watching you run a finger over the smooth surface of the grip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you want something that badly before. I couldn’t help myself.” Your eyes ripped away from the beautiful gift and up towards Fred. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” You repeated. “Fred, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You flung your arms around him and buried yourself into his neck.

“Really,” he chuckled. “A quill is the best gift you’ve ever gotten?” You nodded you head into his shoulder.

“It’s not just a quill, it’s a beautiful quill. And-” it’s from you. You couldn’t exactly say that though, so you settled for, “I didn’t get you a gift!” You gasped and pulled abruptly out of the hug. Fred only chuckled again and held your arm from pulling away too far.

“It’s fine, Y/N. Seeing you happy with your present is more than enough for me,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. Your blush deepened under his touch, his eyes holding yours captive. You were dizzy with realization. It was a Christmas miracle. Fred Weasley liked you back.

“Wait,” you said, reaching into your bag to grab your wand. “I think I have something for you.” You flicked your wand up, casting a flicker of red and green magic above you. It was a silly charm you had been practicing for fun, but now your festive spirit was proving worthwhile. Fred watched as the mistletoe took shape, his mouth slightly parted as his eyes fixed on the delicate bristle. You bit your lip to hold your smile as you watched his face flush red. You would certainly be replaying that image in your mind over the holiday.

“How did you learn to do that?” Fred asked in wonderment, still gaping at the red bowed mistletoe.

“I taught myself before December,” you chuckled. “Y’know. Just in case someone needed it.” Fred chuckled as his eyes settled back on you.

“I wish I’d known about this earlier,” he murmured, his hand moving from your shoulder to your cheek. “If I’d known how to cast this, I would’ve done it on December 1st.” He leaned forward gently, pressing his lips against yours with adoration. He was warm and sweet like hot cocoa, his lips moving against yours with an impossible gentleness. The kiss was unhurried and soft, and it practically melted you into the couch. When he pulled away, your body betrayed you, a soft whine escaping your pouted lips. Fred chuckled and pressed another kiss to your cheek.

“Did you like my gift?” You asked sheepishly, your rosey cheeks warming Fred’s heart. He smiled as the mistletoes shape shimmered and fell over the two of you.

“This is definitely the best gift I’ve ever received.”

[evesfallen]

── ❆ you are my home, my home for all seasons.

— pairing: riley johnson x fem! reader

— summary: Throughout your childhood you were inseparable from Harper and Riley. Yet, after Harper and Riley’s messy breakup and university, you found that you lost contact with the two girls who were your lifeline. That is, until you’re invited back to your hometown to celebrate Christmas with Harper’s family.

— word count: 2,232

— a/n: anon, this one is for you. chat i love writing christmas stories.

You were never fond of Christmas. While the season brought cheerful lights and shades of red and green, you often found that it also dug up stress as well. The very stress that had sent you into the nearest dress shop on Christmas Eve. Letting out a small sigh, you ran your fingers along the endless racks of dresses, attempting to find one suitable for Caldwells’ annual Christmas Eve party. While you weren’t the type to want to impress people, there was something about Harper’s family that made you feel like you had to go out of your way to not be judged.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

The words come from behind you, trailing from the lips of someone you had longed for in your past. Instantly your head shot up from the dress you were eyeing, leaving you to turn your body towards the voice.

“Riley!” you gasped, quickly throwing your arms around the brunette that stood before you.

Caught off guard from your embrace, a surprised chuckle left Riley’s throat as she wrapped her arms around your waist. She was dressed in a silk blue blouse that remained partly revealed under a black blazer. The fabric of her dress pants brushed against your tights as you slowly pulled away to look up at her face. She was just as beautiful as you remembered her to be.

“Miss me?” Riley laughed, scrunching her nose.

“Of course,” you replied through your grin. “I thought you moved to New York?”

Riley shrugged off the question as she released her grip upon you.

“It didn’t work out.”

Your grin faltered slightly as you took a second to study Riley’s expression. Last you heard, she had gotten married to a journalist from the big apple, but the absence of a wedding ring made you question that notion.

“Oh I’m sorry…” you hesitated, quickly earning a small head shake from Riley.

“No it’s fine, don’t worry. I’m fine diagnosing everyone’s problems here.” she insisted, leaving room for her usual sarcasm in her words.

It earned a small giggle from your lips.

“So what brings you to town? I thought your parents moved to South Carolina to escape the cold.” Riley asked, tilting her head.

“Harper invited me to her family’s Christmas Eve party.”

“You willingly want to go to that?”

The question caused you to hesitate for a moment. You knew exactly the reason why you came, it was standing right in front of you. Yet, you couldn’t let her know that, not after the years of no contact.

“Kinda. It’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone. I missed you guys.”

Riley remained silent for a moment before shifting her attention towards the dresses behind you.

“Well, if that’s the case, you need something a little more eye-catching to wear.” she hummed, taking a step forward to begin looking through the racks.

Standing shyly to the side, you watched quietly as Riley occasionally glanced over at your body, attempting to decipher what shade she wanted to dress you in. Eventually, she lingered upon a scarlet velvet dress that fell off the shoulders. Raising a brow, Riley plucked it from the rack before holding it up to you.

“I don’t know if I can pull that off.” you stated, throwing your hands up defensively.

“Oh please, you can make any dress look stunning.” Riley reassured, before thrusting the dress into your arms.

Reaching for your waist, she began to guide you towards the fitting rooms. After finding the nearest empty room, she nudged you inside.

“Now change.”

Letting out a small sigh, you took a moment to stare at the mirror beside you. Unmistakably, your reflection’s cheeks held a soft dusting of red upon them, no doubt from the compliments Riley had showered you in. Memories flooded through your mind like an old kinetoscope, showing glimpses of quiet moments of Riley and yourself. The moment she had told you that her and Harper had started dating still caused your stomach to twist into a pit. Shaking off the thought, you turned your attention to the dress once more before beginning to strip yourself of your winter clothes. The air felt cold against your bare back, making you wonder what kind of store would have the air conditioning on during the winter months. Reaching for the dress, you slipped it on with ease. The velvet felt soft against your skin as you turned back towards the mirror. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Riley certainly knew how to pick the perfect dress.

Reaching behind your back, you fiddled for the zipper desperately. You managed to zip it up to the center of your spine before realizing that you’d need assistance.

“Riley?”

“Mhm?”

Riley’s voice came from right outside the fitting room. You sighed softly in relief as you carefully unlocked the door.

“Could you help me zip this?”

“Yeah, give me a–” Riley began, only for her words to stop as she opened the door.

Her eyes lingered upon the sight of you in the dress, taking in every inch that the velvet touched.

“Holy shit.” she murmured, causing your cheeks to burn.

“Does it look okay?” you asked hesitantly as she took a step closer towards you.

Turning around, you exposed the zipper to her. As her fingers glided to your back, you felt her knuckles graze your skin as she zipped the dress up.

“Are you kidding? It looks beautiful on you.”

“Thank you…”

You watched in the mirror’s reflection as Riley's hands remained upon your back for a moment, before slowly moving towards your shoulders. Gently giving them a squeeze, her eyes flicker to the reflection as well. Mentally you cursed the fact that there was no way you were able to hide your blush.

“You’re a little red, babe.” she teased, pressing her chin against your shoulder.

“It’s just really warm in here.”

“Uh huh.”

God you had missed her touch. The scent of her cinnamon vanilla perfume surrounded you as you began to melt against Riley. Lost in the moment, the feeling of the price tag against your thigh brought you back to reality. Carefully reaching for it, you tugged the small piece of paper upwards in order to read the cursive price printed upon it.

“On second thought it’s not that pretty.” you gasped, quickly dropping the price tag.

Raising a brow at your words, a frown formed upon Riley’s lips as she tilted her head.

“What do you mean?”

“They want three hundred for it. I could barely budget my plane ticket here.”

Reaching for the tag, Riley let go off your shoulders before studying the printed price. Refusing to look up at you, she tugged at the tag until it pulled from the dress, causing you to gasp.

“Riley? What are you doing?” you asked, turning around to face her.

“Giving you your Christmas present early.” Riley replied simply, stepping out of the fitting room before you could grab onto her.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you quickly reach for the zipper behind your back in a desperate attempt to free yourself from the dress.

You failed miserably.

A groan slipped from your lips as you plopped onto the circular seat in the corner of the fitting room. After waiting for what felt like forever, Riley returned with a receipt in hand.

“Riley, you didn’t have to do that.” you protested quietly, pouting as you rested your chin in her hands.

Shrugging innocently, Riley held out her hand to you. “I wanted to.”

Staring at her hand for a moment, it didn’t take you long to grab onto it. Standing up, you intertwined your arm with Riley as the two of you began to walk out the store. It didn’t make any sense to change, after all the party was merely hours away.

“Why?”

“Because…”

“Because…?”

“Because.”

Her words made a giggle escape your lips as the two of you stepped into the snowy streets of Pittsburgh. The frosty breeze nipped at your skin, causing you to push yourself further against Riley as you walked. A faint smile tugged at Riley’s lips as she kept you close beside her.

“Want to take my car? We can stay at my place until it’s time for the party.” Riley asked, raising a brow.

“Please.” you replied, ignoring the chattering of your teeth from the cold.

Hurrying over to Riley’s silver SUV, you watched as she tugged open the passenger door for you, before guiding you inside. Her car was everything you’d imagine it to be, neatly organized with a beaded air freshener dangling from her mirror. As she slid into her driver’s seat, the car’s engine roared to life.

“You know those are illegal right? You can get pulled over for having stuff on your mirror.” you teased, pointing at her air freshener.

“What are you a snitch?” she shot back, laughing softly at your remark.

“Maybe. A criminal doctor sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Ooh, watch out now.”

Meeting each other’s gaze, the two of you erupted in laughter as Riley began to drive to her house on the East side of the city. The car ride was filled with aimless chatter, the two of you catching up on old high school drama that no longer concerned either of you. Harper was brought up as well, very faintly as you recalled seeing her new girlfriend Abby.

“Think they’ll last?” you asked, curiously, raising a brow as Riley pulled into her driveway.

Her house was bigger than you expected.

Sighing softly, Riley set the SUV into park before running a hand through her chocolate colored hair.

“Not if Harper doesn’t accept herself.”

The words held a crucial amount of weight as the two of you hopped out of the vehicle. You couldn’t imagine the pain Riley had gone through. You were there when it happened of course, but it was almost a little too grimacing to look back on. Harper had managed to turn everyone against Riley, leaving only you to stick at her side. Part of you wondered if Abby would suffer a similar fate. Ignoring the thought, you followed Riley up the front steps to her home. Her window revealed a large Christmas tree, dimly lit with an absence of decorations.

“What’s with the sad looking tree?” you asked curiously, nodding your head towards the sight as Riley twisted open the door.

Raising a brow, Riley pushed the door open before following your gaze.

“Haven’t had the time. The clinic has been insane with everyone and their mother thinking they’ve the flu.” Riley sighed.

“Those common colds can be pretty risky.” you snickered, earning a small smirk from Riley.

“Get in here.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

“You’re going to drop me.”

“No I’m not! I swear.”

Riley’s arms wrapped around your waist firmly as she raised up into the air. Holding your breath, you held a Christmas tree star tightly in your hands in an effort to add a finishing touch to the now decorated tree. Swaying slightly, you felt your heart rate quicken as Riley regained her footing.

“This is how I go, at the hands of a doctor.” you whined, reaching out to place the star upon the top of the tree.

It shimmered against the light as your response earned a playfully squeeze upon your waist.

“Hey!” you gasped, as Riley’s laughter surrounded you.

Setting you back on the ground, Riley’s hands lingered upon your waist as she caught her breath. There was a new found softness within her gaze as she pulled you closer.

“That wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it?” she hummed.

You stumbled slightly against her while your cheeks burned a soft shade of red. Pressing against her body, the two of you managed to lose your footing. Falling against the tan sofa behind you, you land upon Riley’s lap. Her eyes widened for a moment and you noticed the faintest blush creeping onto her cheeks. Your own face mirrored the same image. Keeping her arms wrapped around your waist, Riley smiled gently up at you before hesitating.

“Do you really want to go to Harper’s party?” she asked, her question quiet.

Tilting your head, you hesitated before draping your arms loosely around Riley’s neck.

“What would we do instead? You know she’d flip if we didn’t go.”

“I don’t care about what she thinks.”

“You’ve made that quite apparent m’lady.”

Riley chuckled at your words before reaching up to tuck a loose strand behind your ear. A storm of butterflies fluttered within your stomach as you leaned into her touch.

“I’m glad you came home.” Riley whispered softly, a genuine flicker within her eyes.

Your words leave your lips before you could even think of stopping them.

“You are my home.”

Riley’s eyes widened at your words and you quickly bit the inside of your cheek in horror.

“I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have sai–”

Before you could finish, Riley’s hands reached for your face to gently tug you into a soft kiss. Her lips tasted like peppermint, like the holiday chapstick collections you could buy only at Christmas time. Yet, there was more than just that. She tasted like home, no matter what the season was. Pulling away for a moment, Riley rested her forehead against yours as the Christmas tree’s lights brought a warm hue to her hair.

“You’re my home too.”

[ravenwind-75]

A Christmas Kiss || AU

Word count: 3000

No beta: fight me

Pairing: Ominis x Johanna

tagging: @heylorrain and @butternutt613 because they shared.

and @accio-bagel and @ps-cactus who helped me with ideas.

@leaping-toadstool-caps

and @anomalyaly and @zetadraconis11 for fluff therapy after reading ITSOI recently

...................................................

“Christmas is a time of coming together, of cheer, of laughter, of remembering what is most important to us. Think back on the year, the lessons we learned, and how we can grow and change. But most of all it is remembering the greatest gift of all, love…”

*******

Ominis Gaunt had had Christmas before. At Hogwarts and some with the Sallow’s, snug by their fire on a cold winter's night. They would sip warm glogg and warm their small cold hands from the snowball fights under blankets and on each other’s skin, just to hear each other shriek. Anne had been the cruelest of them all, chasing her brother with her icy fingers. He had fond memories of those childhood days. They had washed away the memories of lonely nights he’d spent in his manor the years before. His family had often gone off to parties without him, ashamed to be seen with their crippled and weak son. The only joy was when Aunt Noctua would return with a small bag of sweets that she slipped him when no one was looking. 

Yes, Ominis had many different types of Christmases but never had he had one like this- a Christmas alone.

Sebastian had gone off on a holiday trip with Poppy and Anne. Originally he was planning to just go with his fiancee but he couldn’t say no to his sister, especially when they hadn’t had a trip together since she got cured. Ominis was glad for them and couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Poppy trying to deal with those two. Anne’s mischievousness picked up a lot since Johanna was able to cure her last year after long months of study and travel. 

 And Johanna, she was back with her family..where she should be. Why would she spend Christmas with him?  He was just a reminder of Sebastian, who had broken her heart. It didn’t matter that his heart belonged to her when all she’d ever seen him was as a friend. His friend. 

Sebastian that bastard. 

With a deep sigh Ominis flicked out the lights and pulled on his jacket, closing his-her shop, and wished Penny well. As he pulled the door shut, the bell jingled brightly reminding him  once again of the cheer there was supposed to be tonight. 

“Mr Gaunt sir, Penny doesn’t want you to spend Christmas alone sir. Penny and Deek could keep you company. Penny is very at cooking and Deek could decorate and-”

“Don’t worry about it Penny, I’ll be fine. I enjoy solitude.”

“But sir no one should be alone at Christm-” 

Ominis held back a groan,“Penny…go enjoy Christmas with your husband. I’ll be fine.” Afterall, it’s not the first Christmas I’ve been lonely. He wanted to add. But never completely…

 It didn’t matter though. What was Christmas anyway? Just another day where people put on their best acts, their best clothes, and found another excuse to spend money. It didn’t stop people from showing their true colors as soon as it was over. The love, the gratitude, the fakeness was sickening. 

Maybe spending the holidays alone would be better after all.

*******

Johanna tucked her hands deeper into her pockets as she trudged through the snowy streets of Hogsmeade. The tiny shops were all decorated from top to bottom with gold and silver, with red bows decorating most doors and lights strung across the rooftops in a long line, as if making a trail for Santa Claus to follow. Did wizards believe in Santa? The thought made her pause a moment before she just shook her head and continued on her way. A ridiculous notion really. 

The moon hung high in the sky, sending a silvery glow over everything. It looked enchanting and so peaceful. A shadow flickered across the ground making her look up. She smiled at the sight of a thestral flying in front of it, carrying a bough of greens in her bill. Even they were celebrating in their own sort of way, carrying back their own gifts of love for each other. 

She nodded at the few couples that she passed but her smiles were half-hearted. She couldn’t help the sharp pang that went through her chest that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. It was so fresh. It was just a year ago that it had been her and Sebastian walking down these same streets hand in hand, before he had thrown her over his shoulder and tossed her right into a giant snowman. He’d made some joke afterward that earned him a snowball to the face. 

Ahhh Sebastian…

The boy he was. 

Hopefully one day he’d grow up. Maybe someday he’d think before he acted and grow the guts to apologize and not make ridiculous excuses for his behavior for once. She still loved him but gosh, when would the pain end? He was happy so she shouldn’t be jealous anymore. It wasn’t Poppy’s fault. He was with someone he loved. He had a healthy happy family once again, and heaven knows Sebastian needed it. 

But some didn’t have a family this Christmas. Or friends. Someone who needed family most. 

Don’t worry Ominis, I’ll be there soon. 

She was determined to make this the best Christmas he’d ever had. Ominis deserved happiness, he deserved to have everything he ever wanted. After all, he’d done so much for them over the years. Sebastian was a free man, she was safe from his family after he turned them in. It was wrong that he should find himself alone this holiday. Or anyone for that matter. She had a few stops to make first but she would be there when he woke. She would make sure of it.  

And with that thought in mind, she continued on her journey. 

…..

Waking up to the sound of soft humming and the smell of gingerbread was definitely not Ominis’s plan for Christmas morning. At first, he thought it must be an intruder, but then he realized anyone with evil intentions wouldn’t have let him live or would have left, not stayed to bake cookies. Secondly, he thought Penny had ignored his request and decided to come anyway, but since when had house elves sounded so angelic? 

With an annoyed sigh, he rolled out of bed, ran a hand through his hair briefly to straighten it, and felt for his wand before making his way into the living room, the pulses of light guiding his way. The sound of singing grew louder as he approached the kitchen. He turned in its direction and cleared his throat, preparing himself to scold whoever had invaded his space. 

“Oh, Ominis! Good morning!”

Oh…This had to be a dream. There was no way it could be her standing in his kitchen smiling, based on the sound of her voice. He pinched himself and when nothing changed he realized that she was really there. His brief elation was interrupted by the thought that she was here with him. 

“Shouldn’t you be at home? With your family?” He asked rather sharply. 

“Should I?” She asked lightly, continuing to stir whatever was in the bowl she was holding. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Yes! You should be spending Christmas with them, not me!” 

“And why can’t I spend Christmas with you?” 

“Because-because I-….” Ominis struggled for words. “Because I’m…. not your family. You should be with those that are special to you, not me. Don’t take pity because I’m alone.” 

He hated how his voice was empty and cold. But he couldn’t help but feel offended by the fact she might have come here just out of obligation, to make him happy. It didn’t matter if he was happy or not because- 

“Well, good morning to you too!” She laughed. “I think someone hasn’t been eating enough sweets lately. A bit sour are we?” 

“Hey! I am not!” 

“Are too!” She shushed him and put a dollop of whipped icing on his nose, laughing at the frown he gave her and how he fought back the smile that twitched on his lips.

He tried to be upset with her and continued to protest as she made him breakfast but he couldn’t stay angry at her for long though; her adorable laugh filled him with a warmth that nothing else could compare to. 

Not even the smell of gingerbread, the rays of the sun, or the sound of a carol could match it. No, she was a different tune entirely, a different everything. She was his everything.

….

Johanna watched him eat and listened to him share about how the shop was faring. She was glad to hear the shop was doing well and was thrilled Penny and Deek were finally married. She wished she could have been there. She was glad he was well but her heart was heavy from what he had said. He didn’t actually think he wasn’t important to her, did he? 

Ominis gladly seemed to relax as he shared with her and that nervous slightly angry expression had melted into one of comfortable ease. Smirks and flickers of contained laughter moved over his face when it was her turn and she recounted her recent struggles with nifflers stealing all the golden baubles from a Christmas tree shop. His brown creased with concern however when a shiver ran through her. 

“Johanna, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” she said immediately, not wanting to worry him. However, the lie didn’t go undetected. 

He sighed. “I told you before not to lie to me. You’re cold aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question and since she was caught she decided to tell the truth. “Yes, I am cold. Why on earth don’t you have some kind of heat on? It’s wintertime. Plus I had to trek here in the snow.”

Without a word he stood up and walked to the bedroom, returning with a blanket. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the sofa by the empty fireplace. 

“But the cookies-” she began to protest. 

“Don’t worry about the cookies. I’m perfectly capable of taking cookies out of an oven. Sit.” He insisted. 

With a reluctant grumble, she sat down, but couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he tucked the blanket snuggly around her. It was the one she had made him sixth year. She was touched that he had kept it for so long. 

“Now stay here,” he ordered before pulling on a coat and stepping outside. 

She relaxed into the blanket's warmth, but the sound of voices outside made her perk up. It sounded like someone was arguing. She was about to get up when he returned inside, awkwardly carrying some wood. 

“Don’t,” he said, as if he could sense she was about to get up to help him. “It’s my fault you’re cold. I tend to keep the house cold in the winter.”  

“I thought you didn’t like the cold.” She asked as he began to place the wood into the fireplace.  He laughed, a bit embarrassed. “I guess I’m just used to it.” He stepped back, pointing his wand at the fire. “Confringo!” Soon the fire was roaring and the heat spread through the room, chasing the cold into the corners of the small flat. 

Before she could ask what had happened outside the smell of the cookies wafted over. “They’re probably done, are you sure you don’t want me to get them?” 

“I’m sure. You stay warm.” Ominis headed into the kitchen and she watched as he carefully removed them, placing them on a plate before feeling his way around the kitchen for cocoa. Eventually, he came and sat beside her, wordlessly handing her a glass, and placed the plate of cookies between them on the blanket. They sat in silence for a while before Johanna finally spoke. 

“Who was outside?”

Ominis stiffened. “It was Sebastian. He heard you were here from your mother. He came to apologize. I figured you didn’t want to see him so I sent him away. He got angry.” 

…

Ominis heard a light sigh escape her lips. “Oh… well, I’m glad he finally came to his senses, even if it took a year.” She laughed, though the sound was bitter. Ominis felt his heart sink. He knew that Johanna was still hurt by Sebastian's affair, and he wished he knew how to make it better. He longed to tell her how much he loved her, but the words caught in his throat. He realized that to express his feelings now would be selfish. 

Boldly, he reached out and gently took her hand, causing her to suck in a breath of surprise. He usually didn’t like physical contact, but with her, it felt different. He appreciated the gentle touches of encouragement she offered, the surprise hugs, and the accidental brushing of hands. It had been too long since he felt her presence, and he craved it. At the same time, he wanted to comfort her, just as she had done for him countless times.

“I’m sorry he broke your heart, Jo. He didn’t deserve your love, especially after taking it for granted like that. A love like yours is rare. You care deeply and passionately for people, giving everything you have for them and remaining loyal to a fault. You deserve someone who can cherish your love and return it just as deeply. You deserve to be happy with someone special. 

He sighed. “If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. I’m sorry I didn’t do more before; I was afraid of getting in the middle. But I’m not afraid anymore.” 

Her silence was deafening but her pulse pounded faster against his fingertips. He worried he went too far. Had she caught on to his feelings? Did he scare her off? 

Finally, she spoke, her voice a little shaky but also steady. “Ominis, I didn’t come here out of pity. You told me that I should be with my family—people who are special to me this Christmas. I hope you don’t think you’re not special because you are. You are very special.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was he really special to her?

She continued, “I know you feel like you’re not worth anything because of how you were treated as a child. But you are worth a lot. You’re not the only one who always gives of yourself. You gave Sebastian a second chance even when he didn’t deserve it. You comforted me and stood by my side through all the drama that happened after fifth year. You just told Sebastian to leave for my sake, even though I’m sure you wanted to see him for Christmas as well. You deserve to have a good Christmas. You deserve to be with someone who cares about you, not to be alone. That’s why I came, Ominis. Not because I pity you, but because you are special to me. Even more so than my family because—because…”

He struggled to breathe, concentrating solely on her beautiful voice and the words she spoke. He fought back the tears threatening to spill and willed his heart to return to a normal pace as he waited with bated breath for her to say the words he longed to hear more than anything.

“Because I love you.” She whispered. 

…

“Because I love you.” She had finally said it. The words she longed to say for months. Yet now she wondered if she should have because of the way Ominis was gaping at her like a fish. She nearly snorted at the expression but the anxiety of what he might be thinking made the laugh die in her throat.  

“Omi-?” 

“You love me? Me?” he whispered, tears spilling down his cheek, making her heart ache. She scooted closer and took both of his hands in hers. He tensed at first but relaxed slightly when she began to rub soothing circles into the backs of his hands with her thumbs.

“I do. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner, but you were always there, loving me quietly. You noticed things no one else did, and slowly, you won my heart. I was a fool to give it to Sebastian when I should have given it to you.” Her voice was genuine and soft.

“I don’t know what to say. You come here, leaving your family on Christmas, wake me up by baking the most delicious cookies I’ve ever eaten while singing in the loveliest voice known to man, and then you tell me you love me. I don’t have anything for you. No Christmas gifts, nothing,” Ominis rambled, flustered and pink with shame and confusion.

“Ominis the best gift is just being here with you. And having your heart, but if you don’t feel the same way that’s fine. I’m sorry if I ruined everything by saying so and-” 

“No!” he shouted, causing her to jump and pull away. A grimace crossed his face as he felt a pang of guilt. Gently, he took her hand again and took a breath before continuing, his voice much softer. “You didn’t ruin anything. Not one bit. You’ve made me the happiest man alive because... I love you too, Johanna.” He lifted his gaze and somehow found her eyes.

“You’ve held my heart since that day in the catacombs all those years ago. I just didn’t think you’d want to be with someone like me. Even when I realized my past didn’t affect how you saw me, it seemed like you were happier with Sebastian. He was stronger and made you laugh. It’s so overwhelming to hear that you feel the same way.”

“I do.” 

He leaned in and they shared a gentle kiss, under the mistletoe Johanna involuntarily conjured with her magic, the small green and white plant clinging to the wooden beams above them. It was the most magical thing Johanna had ever experienced in her life. 

The best gift. 

The end

[jessicaloons]

INVISIBLE STRING: FROM THE VAULT

Part 3: A Christmassy story…

Masterlist

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄🎅🏻♥️

Better late than never! As it is during Christmas, it all gets a little hectic and what I wanted to post last night had to be postponed to today… it’s a little something I started to write a year ago, at Christmas, while watching one of my all time favourite Christmas movies.

And now no more talking, here it is…

Christmas 2027:

"Radiation?" Joris cocked an eyebrow.

"Radiation." I shrugged my shoulders and he chuckled "Don’t ask. It’s- it’s her newest ick…"

"You’re surrounded by radiation the entire day with having your phone with you? So where’s the difference at ni-…"

"That’s exactly the point. Your body is exposed to radiation all day long, so at night, when it resets, there shouldn’t be any radiation!" Lizzie’s voice rang out behind us, making Joris flinch "I’ve read it in various magazines! So it can’t be that wrong!"

I had to chuckle, looking at Joris’ petrified face when Lizzie glared at me, although I could see her eyes getting watery.

"It’s not funny!" her voice strained.

"It’s not, cara mia. You’re right. I’m sorry." I replied.

"I’m not crazy…" she sniffled a little and I felt bad.

"No, you’re not! I know that, okay?" I said immediately and got up from my seat, cupping her cheek and gently stroked the side of her bump "You’re doing everything to protect our babies… so whatever you think is best we’ll do! You’re an amazing mum, okay?"

She only nodded slightly and turned away, her shoulders slumped.

"I lay down for a bit…" she whispered and waddled off, taking a short look into Emmie’s room, before she continued to our bedroom.

"I swear I didn’t want to upset her!" Joris looked at me with big eyes and I sighed, sitting back down.

"Believe me, same. The last 2 or 3 days it’s been tough, she’s more emotional than usually…" I rubbed my temples, leaning back "One moment she’s happy and bubbly, the next moment she cries about how there’s only one apple left and that it might feel alone… and then she’s mad at herself for crying about such ridiculous things which makes her cry even more because she thinks I’m annoyed of her being an emotional mess… which is not true at all. I love it. I swear."

"You’re probably the only guy on earth who loves his pregnant wife’s mood swings." Joris laughed.

"It’s cute… when she’s this bubbly Lizzie, who turns over a jar she can’t open first super frustrated and then grumpy like never seen before and curses it like there’s no tomorrow, just to be sad the next moment that whatever’s in the jar is lost forever…"

"And then you chime in and save the day…" he wiggled with his eyebrows and I held up my hands.

"You know, not all heroes wear capes… but they still get a proper thank you… if you know what I mean…"

"Yeah. No. Gross…"

Right when I wanted to reply I heard the soft steps of Emmie and Arlo approaching and when I turned a little I saw them both walk around the corner.

"Dada? Mummy look sad?" her sweet little voice sounded truly concerned and I opened my arms, hoisting her up into my lap "Why mummy sad?"

"She’s not sad, Emmie. Just a little emotional."

"Emonal?" she repeated and I smiled.

"Emotional…" I said slowly, while she quietly said the word again "That’s when you feel all sorts of emotions… that’s feelings. Sad, happy, tired, funny, moody… and you just don’t know what’s the real feeling. So you get a little overwhelmed with emotions… it’s nothing bad. It happens. Especially when someone carries a baby, or like mummy two, in their belly…"

"Mummy feel for baby one and baby two?" Emmies eyes widened and I had to chuckle.

"Yes, my little princess, that’s exactly what mummy’s feeling. Her feelings and baby one and twos feelings."

"Lot of feelings!"

"Oh yes! A lot of feelings!" I nodded and she sighed, cuddling into my chest "You know what? Why don’t you help me and Joris make some hot chocolate for mummy?"

Emmie’s eyes lit up and she jumped off my lap, already pulling me up on my feet before she grabbed onto Joris hand, doing the same.

"Comes on, Jojo! Hot chotlat for mummy!" she chirped and pulled him with her.

"I’m coming, Emmie-bug." he laughed and picked her up, following me into the kitchen, where he sat her down on the kitchen island.

"Emmie hot chotlat, too!" she looked first at me and then at Joris with her big puppy eyes and I could melt away on the spot.

"Let’s make hot chocolate for us all, okay? And then we can watch a movie before bedtime, how does that sound?"

"No bedtime."

"Emmie, we have to get up early tomorrow! We’re leaving for Christmas!" I reminded her but she shook her head.

"No bedtime." she repeated, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"No bedtime means no Christmas, and no Christmas means no pops and grams, no granny, no Liam or Elijah… no Arthi!"

"No Arthi?" Emmie whispered and I nodded.

"Also no presents…"

"Emmie like bedtime."

"Yeah?" I asked and she nodded.

"Bedtime comfy. Jojo read story?" she turned and looked at him "Pwease?"

"Of course, Emmie-bug. Every story you want!" he cooed at her and she clapped happily.

"Now chotlat for mummy!"

"Now chocolate for mummy."

"Charles?" Lizzie whispered and I turned a little, trying to make her out in the dark "I’m sorry…"

"What do you mean?" I asked, voice still hoarse from sleeping. I looked around, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness and saw her perched against the headboard.

"For being over emotional… and unreasonable…" she said and I sat up to switch on the lamp on the night stand.

"Hey, you’re not over emotional or unreasonable!" I replied, rubbing my eyes, facing her.

"I am. The other day I cried because of a pair of socks I had to throw away since one of them had holes…"

"It was a nice pair of socks!"

"Charles…" Lizzie chuckled and I grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles "I’m serious! I feel like I’m way worse than when I was pregnant with Emmie!"

"Yeah of course! You’re carrying twins, cara mia! Double the trouble!"

"Is that why I could eat all the damn time? I’m always hungry…" she sighed and I laughed, looking at her pouting.

"And what does my pretty girl want right now?"

"Now? Oh… umm… I’m not hungry…" she looked away and I gently grabbed her chin, turning her head.

"Lizzie… I know you… it’s 1 am that’s your time… so, what can I get for you?" I stifled a yawn.

"I’m fine… you’re tired and we’ll be picked up early…" she mumbled but I shook my head.

"Pretty girl…" I scooted closer, cupping her cheek "What do you want? Fruits? Something salty? Ice cream? A burger?"

"Some sour gums and-… it’s weird, because usually I don’t like them… salt and vinegar crisps? Do we have that?"

"On it…" I pecked her lips and shuffled out of the bed, stretching as soon as I stood up "Anything else?"

"Umm… one of these strawberry lemonades maybe?"

"Anything my pretty girl wants." I said, grabbing my sweatpants that got stuck somehow and I pulled harder almost tripping over when I finally freed it.

"Are you okay?" Lizzie looked at me and I nodded.

"It got stuck somehow… I don’t know… get comfy I’ll be right back." I slipped on my pants and left our bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen I stopped at Emmie’s bedroom and took a look inside.

Our little girl tucked in under her blankets, Arlo guarding her, sleeping right in front of her bed. He must’ve felt my presence, lifting his head looking at me. He got up, yawned and then trotted over, tilting his head.

"All good, Arlo. Just me." I whispered, kneeling down "Go watch our little princess." I stroked his fluffy fur, scratched his ears before he stretched “Ohhh big stretch! Good boy." I scratched his ears and got up "Go back to sleep…" he turned around and walked away, plopping down back at his old spot.

I rummaged through the pantry, grabbing everything Lizzie graved and trotted back to our bedroom, where a big smile spread over her face as soon as she saw me walk in.

"I can already taste the lemonade…" she made grabby hands and I laughed, handing her the can of lemonade and the crisps and sour gums.

I climbed in bed next to her, lying down and watching how she happily scrunched up her nose as soon as she ate the first sour gum, closing her eyes savouring the taste.

"Remind me to pack strawberry lemonade, salt and vinegar crisps and sour patch kids…" I yawned.

"I’m so excited for Christmas, our last without the twins… next year we’re already a family of 6…" Lizzie whispered and I cocked an eyebrow.

"6?"

"6…"

"Of course… Arlo…"

"I told you he’s our first born." Lizzie’s happy giggling made me smile and I nodded.

"You’re right. He is. And he’s an amazing big brother, guarding his little sister."

"He’s a good boy." she happily munched and I smiled, yawning again "You can sleep… you don’t have to stay awake with me…"

"Yeah?" I mumbled, fighting to keep my eyes open.

"Yeah…" Lizzie replied and leaned down, kissing my cheek "Thank you…"

"You need anything else?" I asked but she shook her head.

"No. We’re all good now. Sleep, pretty boy."

I didn’t know if I replied or not, I fell asleep almost immediately.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

An annoying ringing inside my head. But was it inside my head? I groaned and turned around, Lizzie next to me fast asleep, the ringing that definitely wasn’t just inside my head didn’t seem to bother her.

"Dada… make it stop…" Emmie rubbed her eyes, stumbling to our bed, her hair her a hot mess "Head owie!"

"I know…" I picked her up and sat her next to Lizzie "I’ll go…" I kissed her cheek and scrambled out of bed, looking for the source of the horrific sound. The door bell. And the landline phone. Both ringing at the same time. Just like my phone "What the hell?" I grabbed my phone and picked up "Hello?"

"Ah, Mr. Leclerc! Finally! I wanted to come up myself and look if everything is alright!" Matthieu, our concierge, said and the landline phone and door bell stopped ringing.

"Of course, everything’s alright? Why wouldn’t it be?" I was confused, looking around.

"There are two cars here to pick you up. They’ve been waiting for a while now and we tried to call you then-…"

"What?! But the cars should be here at 8?" I replied.

"Mr. Leclerc, it’s 8:30 am…"

"WHAT? What? How? I- what?" I checked the time at my phone and cursed "Oh shit… umm tell the drivers we’ll need a moment…"

"Can I send them up to get your bags?" Matthieu asked and I nodded.

"Yes. Everything is packed. All the bags are at the elevator…" I hastily walked back into our bedroom, pushing the buttons to open up the blinds.

"Alright. I’ll tell them." he hung up and I gently shook Lizzie.

"Cara mia? Wake up please… we need to get ready…"

"Hmm?" she mumbled, blinking a few times.

"The cars are already here… we need to get ready." I said again and her eyes shot open.

"What? But you set your alarm? What?" she scrambled up looking at Emmie next to her "Did we oversleep?"

"I don’t know. I didn’t hear the alarm. But that doesn’t matter. We need to get ready. Now. Come on." I pulled her gently off the bed and she sighed "I take care of Emmie, okay?"

"Hmm…" Lizzie mumbled and waddled away to the bathroom, yawning "Did you not set the alarm?"

"I did. I don’t know what happened…" I mumbled and picked up Emmie "Come on girlie, let’s get ready."

"Ready for Crimas!" she clapped her hands and I chuckled.

"Christmas. And no. Not quite yet. We have to get there first."

"To Christ-as?" she tried again.

"Almost, Christmas, with an 'm'… Christ- mas."

"Christ-mas." she repeated and I smiled.

"You got it right, Emmie! Good girl!" I sat her down on her bed and grabbed the clothes Lizzie had put out already "Now let’s get dressed and then we’ll have a little snack in the car, how does that sound?"

"Car?" she tilted her head, scrunching her nose.

"Yeah, we have to drive to the airport. And then we get into the jet to fly to Switzerland. To this big chalet in the mountains where all our family is waiting! To celebrate-…"

"Christmas!" she clapped excitedly and I nodded.

"Exactly! But we’re a little late. So we need to hurry up a little!"

"Houwy up! Houwy up!"

"That we have to! So let’s have a look. You look adorable, now we just need to take care of your hair and-…" I began when I saw Lizzie waddling towards the kitchen, still in her pyjamas "Alright… wait a minute…" I sat her down "You pack your sleep plushies into your backpack and play a little with Arlo, okay? I’ll be right back and make your hair." Emmie nodded and I followed Lizzie into the kitchen, finding her rummaging through the fridge "Lizzie?"

"Why is there no food?" she sniffled, turning around "I’m hungry. But there is nothing to eat. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Cara mia, we have breakfast in the jet, okay? It’s all prepared-…"

"But I’m hungry now!" she was grumpy "The babies and I are hungry now!"

"I understand, but we have nothing here, because we’re leaving now… we can stop at a bakery on the way?" I tried it again and she sighed.

"Okay… I go and take a shower…" she walked past me and I followed her.

"Cara mia, you don’t need to shower. We don’t have time. You can shower as soon as we arrive in the chalet…" I said carefully but she shook her head.

"I smell… I’m not arriving smelly for Christmas…"

"Technically it’s not Christmas yet, so… and also you don’t smell… you just had a bath last night and I can still smell your coconut butter on your skin, so please. Just get dressed and let’s go. The cars are waiting. For over half an hour now…"

"Then why didn’t you set the alarm?" she looked at me annoyed.

"I did! I don’t know why it didn’t went off! Stupid alarm clock…" I walked over to my night stand to find the alarm clock to be off, not plugged into the wall "What the… oh no… my sweatpants… fuck…" I mumbled, remembering the struggle I had at night with my pants "With my phone this wouldn’t have happen…" I groaned more to myself when a half naked Lizzie stepped out of the closet.

"What did you say?" she cocked an eyebrow and I held my hands up "Is it my fault now for protecting our babies? Last night you said I was the best mum because of it!" her bottom lip began to wobble and I hastily pulled her into me.

"And I meant it! Okay? It’s all good. Just-… please get ready. I feel bad for the drivers to wait this long because of me… and the jet and everything…" I whispered against the side of her head, kissing her temple.

"Okay. I’m almost done…" she breathed out "You need to get dressed yourself…"

"On it…"

15 minutes later I strapped Emmie into her seat and gave the driver the all clear to drive, although I had a feeling like we forgot something at home. I was nervously fidgeting with my phone next to Lizzie who happily munched on the croissant I got her from the bakery.

"What is it?" she asked after another minute of me nervously tapping my foot.

"I feel like we forgot something…" I mumbled, going over the list inside my head "I just don’t know what…"

"It can’t be important if you don’t remember it."

"I don’t know…" I looked outside the window, the car approaching the little private airport.

We had all of the bags, there was nothing left when we left the penthouse. I checked Emmie’s backpack and she had packed all her night plushies. Arlo laid on the floor in front of me, his bag with his toys and leashes in the back. Lizzie packer her bag with her books and computer last night herself and it rested now next to her on the seat. The bag with her snacks on the floor next to my feet. I couldn’t grasp what was missing but still I felt like it.

"Charles?" Lizzie grabbed my hand, squeezing it "We’ve got everything. It’s fine, you’ll see…"

"Yeah… I hope so…" I mumbled watching the car in front with our baggage stopping on the tarmac "It’s too late now anyways I guess…" I unbuckled Emmie and got out of the car, taking her with me. I helped Lizzie out of the car and she took Emmie from me, walking with Arlo towards the jet while I helped loading our baggage onto the cart, before I walked up the stairs of the jet myself.

"Welcome on board, Mr. Leclerc." the pilot shook my hand and I smiled.

"Thank you, and sorry for the delay… it got a little hectic this morning…"

"All good, Sir. Why don’t you take a seat and we’re preparing for take off."

"Thank you." I took off my jacket, handing it to the flight attendant who stored it away.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she smiled and I shook my head, sitting down on front off Lizzie, Emmie next to her on the seat, looking outside the window.

I leaned my head back. Closing my eyes. One last time going over the list in my head. One last time going over every piece of baggage we just unloaded from the car. Lizzie’s suitcases, my suitcases, Emmie’s suitcases, the bags full off her and Arlo’s toys, the bags full of presents. The bag with Lizzie’s snacks and last but not least the 2 suitcases and backpack of…

"JORIS!" I shouted, Lizzie and Emmie both looking at me "WE FORGOT JORIS!" I took my phone out, about to call him when he already did the same.

"Jo-…"

"I can’t believe you forgot me at home…"

"I swear-…"

"Like seriously? What is this? Home alone? Your alarm doesn’t go off and you forget me in all the hectic?"

"I’m so sorry! I send the ca-…"

"Just be glad it’s more like Home Alone 2. I woke up by myself and-…" he hung up "And got in the car right in time… I just wanted to wait how long it would take you to figure out that I wasn’t with you…" Joris walked inside the jet, plopping down in the seat next to us.

"I’m so so sorry!" I looked at him sheepishly and Emmie climbed off her seat, walking over to Joris who picked her up, sitting her down in his lap.

"Jojo made Emmie hair look nice." she smiled and I looked at her, then at him.

"What?" I said and looked at Lizzie "I thought you did that?"

"I thought you did?" she replied and Joris laughed.

"Nope, I did, right Emmie bug?" he cooed at her and she smiled "And now that we’re all here… I say let’s go. Christmas is just right around the corner…"

"Christmas with pesents! Pesents for evyone!" Emmie said excited, clapping her hands "Mewwy Christmas evyone!"

🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄

I hope you enjoyed this (not so) little something and I hope you all had amazing Holidays!

Taglist: (If you don’t like to be tagged for this, let me know)

@itsjustkhaos @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @silkenthusiasts @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @shimmermotorsport @janeh22 @kahhorri @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09 @fangirlforever2000



[aviiarie]

“𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐑.” — feat. oikawa tooru.

synopsis. the night before he leaves for argentina, tooru visits you one last time.

✦ contents. title is from 'you're gonna go far' by noah kahan. platonic. reader + oikawa are best friends. gn!reader. angst, but with a hopeful ending. 1.8k words.

✦ notes. making my haikyuu debut with angst <3 this one is kinda bittersweet ngl, i made myself sad writing it.

You don’t need to open the door to know whose hand is knocking. 

Two quick raps, a half-second pause, and one more for good measure. He has knocked on your door the exact same way, ever since you were in elementary school and he was begging you to come play volleyball. Over the years, that even rhythm would sound every single morning, right before you rushed out of the house to walk together to class.

He’s no stranger to your home. If he wanted, he could fish out the spare key under the doormat and enter as he pleased, without so much as a second glance from your parents. With the amount of time he spent with you growing up, it was as if he was another member of the family; just a typical annoying brother, who happened to live a few houses down.

But it had been a whole two weeks since you’d seen, or even spoke to him. His presence was that of a stranger, an unfamiliar guest, a distant relative. He could only knock, and hope you weren’t still upset enough to ignore him completely.

The traces of anger still linger in your chest, but you turn the handle anyway to find him shivering on your porch, clothes soaked from the rain.

He’s grown a lot from that snot-nosed child who showed up at your door every second weekend. He is taller, for starters, and his body has filled out with muscle. The baby fat in his cheeks was chipped away, leaving him with that perfectly sculpted face that had his classmates fawning over him. A charming smile and a wink from his soft, sparkling eyes would have anyone going mad.

Yet those eyes, the ones that would melt the heart of his fangirls, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, they looked red and puffy, like he’d been crying before he arrived.

He never cried, not unless it was something serious.

“Can we talk?” Tooru asks, his voice oddly quiet. Maybe it’s the rare vulnerability in his eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never really been able to refuse him, but you step aside to let him in without a second thought.

Wordlessly, he takes his place on your couch, as you fetch him a towel to dry his clothes, and poured two glasses of water. Each action is taken in complete silence, other than the opening and closing of cupboards and clinking of glass. Tooru watches you as you move from room to room, sitting with his back straight and hands folded neatly over his lap. By the time you join him, placing a glass in front of him and keeping the other in your hands, his hands are curled into fists, and his shoulders are almost imperceptibly shaking.

It’s awkward, it’s stifling, and it’s utterly miserable. You’re unused to his presence being something that incites such discomfort, when he was your shoulder to cry and ear to listen to all of your problems throughout your teen years.

One argument. That was all it took, for your comfortable silences and soothing familiarities to be ripped away.

“I’ve packed up my house.” Tooru says, breaking the silence. “Everything I own–everything that’s important, that is. I’ve been putting it off, but I’m leaving tomorrow, so... I had to get it done.”

“Oh yeah?” You mutter. “I’m sure that was hard, picking which trophies you wanna take with you.”

He laughs, a weak sound. “The important stuff, I said.”

“Didn’t you also say that winning was the most important part of life?”

“Hey, don’t use my middle school self’s words against me, you’re better than that, [Name]!” Tooru whines. And for a moment, it’s easy to forget why you were upset in the first place, and slip back into that back-and-forth teasing that you were so used to. But it only takes one look into his bloodshot eyes to remember, and the laughter dies in your throat.

You turn your attention to your water, ignoring the way he stiffens. “Yeah, well you’re good at suddenly changing your mind, aren’t you?”

There it was. That awkward silence.

Tooru was at a loss for words, alternating between staring at you with his lips pursed, ready to say something, before changing his mind and looking down at his feet. You sit at his side, idly taking sips from your drink and ignoring the simmering tension. It’s unbearable, the feeling of conflict between you. Unbearable, and unfamiliar.

“I know you’re angry at me.” He blurts out suddenly.

Your hands freeze, right before the glass reaches your lips. “I’m not angry at you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not angry at you.” You repeat, placing the glass down with a little more force than is necessary. “You’re chasing your dreams. I’d be a pretty lousy friend if I was angry about that.”

“But you are angry,” Tooru prompts, leaning forward.

“I… Yes, I am angry.” You admit. “I’m angry that I found out about this two weeks before you planned to uproot your entire life and move to the other side of the world. I’m angry that even though you’ve been thinking about this for so long, you haven’t told me anything. I’m angry that I’m apparently the last person you’ve told–”

You cut yourself off, and take a deep breath to steel the stirring emotions turning in your stomach. “I’m not angry at you, I’m just angry at the way you handled this. That’s all.”

Looking at him in the eye is too difficult, so you look at your hands instead, clenching them into fists in your lap.

“I just don’t–I don’t understand why. Why didn’t you want me to know?” Your words wavered, thick with emotion. “Did you want to leave me behind that bad?”

“No!” Tooru cries. “You’re my friend, of course I didn’t want to leave you!”

“Then explain it to me! Explain why, when you were researching Argentinian volleyball teams six months ago, you never thought to tell me you were thinking about leaving Japan?”

You're both yelling now, but you can't bring yourself to care about waking up the rest of your house. You only care about him, and the tattered state of your friendship.

“You wanna know the real answer? I was scared.” Tooru chuckles bitterly, raking his fingers through his air.. “I was terrified, because you’re one of my best friends and I didn’t know how you would react. Telling Iwa-chan was easy, a walk in the park compared to telling you. At least I knew he would never try to stop me, but if you…”

There is a pause, and a beat of silence before he continues. “If you asked me–truly, truly asked me to stay, then I don’t think I would say no. No matter how suffocating it is here, I would deal with it if you needed me. And I guess, part of me was scared you would, and I didn’t know what I would do if I forced myself to give up like that.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. What could you say to that, the admission that he would forfeit his chance to pursue his goals, if you tried hard enough? There was a stir in your chest, a sickly, selfish thought worming into your mind:

What if you did?

The idea is followed almost immediately with a wash of guilt, bile rising in the back of your throat. You hate yourself for even considering the idea, but you can’t deny how badly you want him to stay. Part of you yearns for your high school days to stretch on a little longer, if only for a few more months of cheering on Aoba Johsai during their volleyball matches and celebrating with Tooru and Iwaizumi afterwards.

At some point, you had gotten ramen together for the last time, without even realizing it. You should have savoured the moment; captured the memory in your mind and kept it like a polaroid in the back of your head.

“I want to stay with you, I really do.” Tooru says quietly, not meeting your eye. “But I want this even more. We’re not kids anymore; I need to move on.”

You inhale sharply.

He was right. You weren’t kids. You couldn’t keep trailing behind him, always at his heels or by his side. As much as you loved having him close to you, you loved the idea of him thriving even more. In the end, that is all that matters.

“I know,” Your eyes are fully glossed over with tears, but you steel yourself enough to meet his gaze. “And I would never want to hold you back. Your happiness means more to me than anything else, so if this… if this is going to make you happy, then you have all my support.”

“Do… you mean that?” He asks, searching your expression for any sign of doubt.

You punch him in the shoulder lightly. “You’ll always have my support, dumbass.” 

The jab doesn't faze him at all; if anything, he looks overjoyed.

“Thank you,” Tooru’s words are choked up, but there’s a clear weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, I couldn’t leave without hearing that.”

Of course he couldn’t.

No wonder he looked a mess when he arrived. You were willing to bet the guilt of an unresolved argument between the two of you was eating him alive. It wasn’t like it was any easier for you; your own guilt began to stir at the thought of him tossing and turning, unable to get the idea of your disapproval out of his head. 

“You’re gonna go far, okay? The world's gonna know the name Oikawa Tooru, starting setter. And when you’re up there, on Argentina’s best volleyball team, winning game after game–” You flashed him a smile. “Make sure to remember your best friend, okay?”

“Yeah,” He grins. “I’ll thank Iwa-chan for the support–”

“Excuse me–”

“And you, of course.” Tooru’s smile widens, and he reaches out to pull you into a side hug. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, but you’re not able to hold back a small smile of your own. “Make sure to win lots of games while you’re over there, okay?”

Tooru scoffs, the same indignant noise he’s made ever since middle school, when you told him he better win his games or else. It was always an ‘or else’; ‘or else’ he would have to buy snacks on the way home, ‘or else’ you would tell his little fangirls that he tripped and fell into a pole that morning, ‘or else’ you wouldn’t go with him to that amusement park you’ve both been eyeing.

Whether the silly threats made any difference on his performance, you’ll never know. All you know is this time, next time, and every time after that, there’s nothing holding him back from giving every game his all.

“It’s a deal.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[lavendermatchastrife]

Please Come Home For Christmas

summary: you move back to your small town just in time for the holidays and your hot new neighbor gives you a warm welcome!

a/n: I just thought that Gojo deserved to be in a Christmas romcom. This is one part, another will be released later.. probably. Either way this can be read as a standalone. I have not written or published since like 2014, fair warning I usually only write alt characters. Please enjoy my attempt at a corny Christmas romcom.

word count: 14300+

warnings: 18+ mdni, sexual content, unrealistic and corny, reader afab, au!non sorcerers, no beta we die like men, established last name, sensitive topic mentions such as: weight/mental health, insecure!reader, implied/referenced chubby!reader, mentioned/implied Asian reader, inexperienced!reader, cocky!gojo, alcohol use, drunk!reader, drunk!gojo, swearing, gojo lowkey objectifies tf out of reader, obsession if you squint, use of 'you' not 'y/n'

Snow gently falls as you wander outside, looking for the pickup checkpoint. Cold hands rub together while you make your way through the outside of the bustling airport. You breathe a few puffs of warm air onto them, occasionally scanning the crowd for a familiar head of ashen blue hair. A sigh breezes past your mouth, of course your best friend is running late on one of the coldest days of the year so far. A cold day and you had failed to wear a pair of gloves. (In your defense you did just get your nails done.) You sigh once again, and go to grab your stack of luggage to look around for your friend some more. You’d hoped the pickup area would be less crowded considering the abrasive temperatures and slicing winds. Of course that wasn’t the case as countless people flooded the outside of the airport. Christmas was right around the corner, it made sense that it was going to be crowded regardless of where you went. Another sigh wracks your body when someone pushes against you, almost knocking you over. Before you can turn on your heel and give them a piece of your mind however, soft gloved hands obscure your vision from behind. Giggles erupt and the petite frame behind you shakes with their amusement, and you gasp in feigned shock.

 “Guess who~” the singsong voice brings a bright smile to your face.

 “Eve!” you whip around and bring your best friend into a tight embrace. She hugs you back even tighter, and you both hold each other soaking in each other's warmth and company. All care for the world lost on you during this brief reunion. The scent of her favorite perfume invades your senses as you take in a deep breath. Pulling back, your eyes process her appearance for the first time in what felt like decades. In all honesty, you called or video chat almost every day; but it had been so long since you’d actually seen her in person.

 “Oh my god I’ve missed you so much!” She cries out dramatically, pulling you back in for another hug. You chuckle, patting her head while she holds you in place.

 “I missed you too, Eve.” she lets up her hold on you, and you take note of her outfit. Her hair is styled into low hanging twin tails, a white and grey plaid scarf is neatly wrapped around her neck. A dark purple puffer jacket with white fur trim swallows her petite figure, a denim skirt is placed over a pair of thick tights that are surely keeping her warm. 

 You've known Evelyn Days since your childhood. Meeting in some dumb middle school extracurricular (not dumb; it was a book club) and it was like you’d had an instant connection. One seat next to each other and from there it was history. Coincidentally she lived two houses over, and came by whenever she felt like it. Most nights you’d spend at each other’s houses, doing projects; homework; video games; sometimes nothing at all. She was your date to prom. When you moved away from your small town it was hard, not because you particularly liked where you’d grown up; but because you’d found home in Eve. While you were close to your parents for most of your life, you’d had a falling out. Your relationship with your parents became rocky when you’d decided to pack everything up and pursue a career in writing in the big city. Most family members thought you’d been betraying your community. Rather than settle down and start a family, pick up a job at a local business, or further your education for the betterment of your town; you’d left everyone behind. A long time ago you were dead set on becoming a teacher there. Growing up changed your way of thinking, and instead you decided to become a writer. Life felt stagnant and often boring in your small town, it was beautiful and safe, however you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to live a little more. Your parents eventually saw your side of things, but the time spent with that tension was still hard to think about. Despite the popular opinion of your tight knit community, your friend Eve supported your decision. She was all for your abrupt change in career path and your sudden need to leave. She of course was heartbroken, but knew that it wasn’t goodbye.

 Eve smiles at you, shaking you from your reminiscing, it reaches her eyes and you feel in that moment incredibly happy to be home. You take a hold of your luggage and she helps you with any bags she can carry. As she turns on her heel, leading you out of the airport you catch up on your small town gossip. She tells you all about how Vanessa (your high school bully) still can’t keep a boyfriend. Mr. Choi (your neighbor down the road) passed away almost six months ago. Alma (a mutual friend from high school) is on her second pregnancy; twins. Some kids have been vandalizing the lake, TP-ing the cherry blossom trees. While driving home one piece of juicy gossip piqued your interest a little more than the others.

 Coming from out of state was a handsome, mysterious, new high school teacher.

 “He moved here about 4 months ago. All of the old guys grumbled as soon as they saw his moving van outside of Mr. Choi’s house. You should’ve been there, the whole town gathered at your parent’s place and watched in your front lawn while they moved his stuff in.” She giggles at that, stopping at a red light and turning her head to face you. “No but he’s like… actually incredibly handsome. Even from far away I could tell he was gonna be way too much for our sleepy town.” You believed her, rolling your eyes as she went on about how she just knew he had a tight body. “Oh but that’s beside the point. He’s actually a pretty stand up guy. We all had our doubts, y’know, since he’s not from around here. But he goes to church every Sunday. Bought gifts for his immediate neighbors and paid a visit to the rest to introduce himself. The kids in his class love him. He’s been a pretty great addition to the community.” Her rambling brings a small smile to your face, and as she prattles on about the next person and the next subject you listen with your head turned to look outside of your window. November was looking more like December, snow beginning to fall just a little harsher as the time passed on, gathering in fluffy piles on every street and lawn in sight.

 Your surroundings start to become familiar after an hour of driving, and you feel excitement building up inside of you. Shades of blue, orange, and pink have replaced the bright golden morning, the little bit of farmland you passed through was engulfed by fluffy blankets of shimmering white. As you cross into your small town you’re greeted by the picture perfect Christmas card. A rainbow of  lights decorate the outside and inside of various shops. Big velvety red bows are tied around every iron lamp post. At the center of the town square is a gazebo, sparkling red wreaths are on the pillars of the entry point. The railings have silver and gold lights wrapped around it intertwining with a darker red garland. Christmas was only a couple weeks away, and your town was decked out for the holiday. 

 “The city decided to decorate early this year, did it a week before Thanksgiving.” Eve explains, rolling her eyes as you stare in wonder at the various Christmas light fixtures scattered around the small park surrounding the gazebo.

  “Those weren’t there the last time I visited for the holidays.” You note, turning to look at Eve and pointing in the direction of the lights. You knew your town heavily relied on the income brought in by the season, but they were really going all out.

 “I think they’re hoping to draw in more Christmas tourists or something.” She replies, finally beginning the turn down your road. “Like, a Christmas walk? A family photo event?”

 “Mm, I see.”

 As you near your house, you begin to pass by Mr. Choi’s and you try not to immediately widen your gaze in surprise. Even from a distance you can tell that the man struggling to put up decorations outside of his new house - is quite tall. Muscular but not to an obvious degree in his navy sweater. Bright red ears, a matching pink nose, eyes hidden behind rectangular shaded frames, chin tucked into a comically large cream-colored scarf. Bright white hair tousled about, shit eating grin plastered on his face when he set something up successfully. You didn’t even need to see him up close, you knew this man was gorgeous.

 “Is that our new neighbor?” You ask, trying to mask your interest but of course your friend picks up on your curiosity.

 “Sure is. Quite the looker.” She hums, slowing to a stop to wave at him when you finally pass by.

 He’s on your side of the car, struggling with a roll of string lights this time. His hands are visibly shaking as he throws one end of the chords over the other. When he registers that there’s a window rolled down and someone shouting, “Good afternoon Mr. Gojo!” He begins to jog your way. You hold your breath while turning to your friend and silently will her to roll up your window and move on. The evil look she gave you had you sending a quick prayer up to the sky before finally turning to meet your neighbor. He stops by your window, leaning down and resting a folded arm on the roof of her car to get a good look at you both. His proximity turns your nerves hot, and you lean back slightly away from him. 

 “Well if it isn’t Lil’ Miss Evelyn!” His deep voice rang in your ears, a playful lilt sending warning signals to your brain. He shifts his glasses down, crystalline blue eyes peeking over the rim. 

 “And who might you be?” Gojo tries not to stage at you too hard, but he’s taken aback by the sight of you. Your hair was braided into low pigtails, your pout had a deep burgundy gloss. He could tell you were beautiful as soon as he saw you even from far away, but he was almost winded when he came close to you.

 “I’m-“ Evelyn cuts you off, grabbing your hand and holding it close to her cheek.

 “Why, this is my beautiful wife, finally back in town.” You turn to face her, cheeks tinting pink and you laugh at her remark. You properly introduce yourself to him, and try not to dwell on his gaze that hasn’t left you.

 “Visiting for the holidays?” He asks, his gaze not-so-subtly raking across your face and then over your frame.

 “No, moving back. I figured if I could do my job anywhere, why not home?” You shrug as your response leaves your lips, a lazy and content smile spreading across your features.

 “She’s a writer, a very talented one.” Eve brags, turning her nose up in pride.

 “Oh neat, maybe I’ve read your work?”

 “I doubt it, I’m hardly popular, and I usually only write for children and teens.”

 “Then I’ll have to snag a couple copies.” He insists, pulling his phone out to look

you up. He makes a show of adding your oldest book to his Amazon cart before leaning back down, “you find a decent place in the area, Miss?” His eyes stay locked with yours as he waits for your answer.

 “Oh, just about the coziest place around.“ You point at your parent’s house across the street. “Childhood room, warm meals, rent free. I have it made.” His eyebrows raise at this, cheeky smirk making its way onto his face. You were the pretty eldest daughter of the Manivong’s he’d heard so much about. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Gojo.” You add, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, looking up at him and finally letting your eyes meet his own. He reaches a slender hand out, long fingers grasping your own in a warm handshake.

 “It’s very good to meet you too, Miss.” He replies, winking at you. “Call me Satoru.” You nod in response and silence falls between you both. His hand holds yours, unwavering and you hope your own doesn’t start to sweat. He’s clearly hanging onto your every word and action, your nerves burn with his active perception. Your friend is long forgotten as you both have a staring contest with each other. The cold mid-afternoon air seemingly has no effect on either of you. Unbeknownst to you, Evelyn was being thoroughly entertained by the whole interaction. She’d never seen you so smitten before, and she couldn’t wait to get you alone later for the inevitable talk that would happen.

“You’ll have to drop by some time, I’ve made it a point to get to know all of my neighbors.” He leans in just a little closer, “If you’re anything like your old man, maybe you could help me with some decorating.” He suggests, he sounds playful and you aren’t sure if he’s hitting on you. You weren’t used to interacting much with anyone outside of your immediate circle, let alone the opposite gender. You always had a hard time telling when people were flirting with you or being friendly. Deciding that maybe this Gojo character is just a really friendly man, you attempt to brush off the itchy feeling building up inside of you. However you couldn’t help but be slightly intimidated by his confident aura, so you offer a meek nod.

 “Maybe, if my schedule allows it.” You’d noticed that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and hesitantly you pull your own from his grip.

 “Well if decorating falls through, I'm sure we could find something else to do.” He’s hitting on you so obviously now and it brings just a little bit more warmth to your face. You try to sputter something witty out, however words are lost on you in your slightly flustered state. You look like a goldfish, your eyes wide while your mouth opens and closes with every failed attempt at a response. He soaks it in, smitten by how easily his words effected you. 

 “Well,” Eve decides then to intervene, “we should probably head out. She has a mountain of unpacking to do. I’ll bet her parents are waiting for her.” Eve says, getting ready to pull away. Satoru’s eyes flash with disappointment for a split second, not wanting to part from such a pretty thing. You’d been so easy to tease, so cute under his scrutiny he couldn’t help but mess with you even if it was just for a little while. He was looking forward to being neighbors with you, already.

 “I would hate to keep those two waiting.” Satoru replies, glancing from Eve back to you, “It’s been a pleasure.”

 “Likewise. Have a good night, don’t hurt yourself with all that decorating. Christmas isn’t going anywhere.” you tease, beginning to roll your window up. It wasn’t clever and you were more embarrassed while trying to match whatever playful atmosphere there was than you would’ve been if you had just said something like, “bye see y’round”. Gojo chuckles in response, pale blue eyes peering down at you from those damned rims one final time.

 “I’ll certainly try not to, especially now that I have such a beauty watching me.” He sends you a wink before he’s pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and skulking back to his yard. Your eyes are fixed on his back as Eve peels away, and they can’t seem to leave his broad figure until you’re pulling into your driveway. The very short drive to your house is spent in silence, not uncomfortable but very knowing. You had the feeling that you were in for an earful. You were grateful she’d wait until you were both comfortable in your room to even begin to bring up your vaguely salacious interaction. 

 Much like the other homes in your neighborhood, yours was decked out in various lights and fixtures. Your father had a penchant for detailed displays and Christmas was his favorite holiday. A delicate nativity scene graced the center of your front yard. Various cream colored light-up deer were placed across the rest of the yard. The front porch had dark evergreen garland wrapped around the pillars with a rainbow of sparkling lights, a classic poinsettia wreath hangs on a silver hook at the center of your burgundy front door. A sloppily put together snowman is closest to the steps of the porch, and you wrap your black and white striped scarf around it. As you tug it on tightly the front door suddenly flings open and three children resembling yourself come running after you. “Sis!” They all yell in unison, trying not to stumble over each other as they race into your arms. You wait for them, arms wide stretched and they pummel into you. All four of you fall to the ground, snow catching you and their delighted squeals allow a sigh of relief to finally escape you. It finally felt like you were home. Bumbling squeals and excited rambling fill the empty silence. Rosy cheeks beam up at you. After a good laugh, you four scramble to get back up, while you dust off the snow from yourself and the children you feel the sudden need to turn around. When you do, Gojo is leaning on the railing of his porch. His gaze brings heat to your cheeks once again, and when you meet it you abruptly turn back around. You miss the signature sly smirk he throws your way, before he turns away and into the warmth of his own home.

 “Oh my god, you guys aren’t even in snow suits, where are your jackets?!” Your exclamation brings exasperated groans and naughty giggles spread amongst your siblings. You shuffle them inside, rolling your luggage inside along with Eve. “Shoes off!” You yell at them, when you finally clamber through your doors, excitement buzzing around you; shaking off your own shoes. “Mommy~ Daddy~ your favorite is home!”

 Your home is just the same as you’d last left it. Toys scattered around, various shoes strewn near the front door. A staircase and banister directly in front of the door, leading to the second floor where your old room is. The only difference between your last visit and now are the mountains of Christmas decorations throughout every area. The same evergreen garland wraps around the handrail leading upstairs, multi-color lights wrapped along with it. Wreaths of varying themes are on every door. Leading into the living room that is just a few steps away and to the right of your front door, are snowflakes clearly made by your siblings, hanging from the ceiling or taped to the walls. A mistletoe hangs in the entryway of the living room, and as you pass through it you spot a great big Christmas tree tucked into the corner. Not yet decorated.

 You hear clattering from the kitchen, a few light swears and then your mother is rushing over to you. You’re engulfed in a soft yet firm embrace, and when you hug your mother back your father saunters down the steps from the floor above. He’s in no rush to hug you like your mother, but he smiles while he waits. “Ah, my little girl!” he pulls you in tight while you bury your face into his chest. He smells like cinnamon and a heavy aftershave (of the musk variety) that makes you cringe and pull away in disgust.

 “Whatever that is, smells awful!” you remark, scrunching your nose. He huffs and rolls his eyes mumbling something along the lines of it’s always something with you. “Do you need any help with dinner, mom?” You ask, she shakes her head with a soft smile.

“Oh no dear, you know how I get about my kitchen. Just go get your stuff situated and settle in. I’ll call you guys down when it’s ready.” You don’t have to turn around to know that Eve is buzzing at the end of the staircase, waiting for you to finally follow her up the steps and into your room. You know she’s hardly said a word to your parents, eager to ’talk boys’ with you in what felt like years.

 You turn away from your parents, finally making your way to the steps and sure enough Eve is there. She impatiently grabs your hand and drags you up and around the corner. Your room is on the left side of the second floor and the only one at the end of the hall. Adjacent to a restroom that you’d claimed as your own however it was originally for guests. Nearing your bedroom you pump the breaks, Eve quirks an eyebrow. Her silent question is not lost on you.

 “I just wanna put it out there that I really, truly, honestly don’t know what that was about.” It sounds as if you’re pleading but you aren’t sure if you should be defensive. What is there to even be defensive about? It was just a little flirting. Wasn’t it? It’s not like it was any grand display of attraction. There were a few playfully exchanged sentences. 

 She shakes her head unconvinced, and pulls you into your room, the door already slightly ajar. You stumble in, greeted by video game posters, dark bedding, a large fluffy black rug on oak floors, and an enthusiastic cat. The large tan and brown Maine coon stretches into a big yawn. He then chirps while running up to you, weaving through your legs. He had been taking a nap on your bed, the indent from his resting spot on the corner closest to your door still there.

 “Listen babe,” Eve crawls onto your bed, propping one of your pillows behind her back as she sits against the wall. “you don’t flirt. If you’ve ever thought someone was hot, you’d usually just tell me about it later.”

 “I mean, sure he was attractive-“

 “Let me finish,” you sit next to her, pulling your cat into your lap. “I think he wants you.”

 “You do?” You’re bashful and twiddle with the ends of your fingers a little, peering up at her through your lashes.

 “Oh my god he wants you so bad!” She cries out, and you both erupt into giggles. You laugh at the fact that someone as crazy good looking as Gojo even looked at you. It just felt too good to be true. “He was inviting you over; he wants to hook up with you, I just know it.”

 “I’m not gonna-“

 “You should sleep with him!” You quickly shush her, covering her mouth with your hands. You stare at her horrified, wide eyes and she mirrors them.

 “Shhhhhh, my parents will hear.”

 “Sorry, sorry, but just listen to me. You had a really bad breakup, I think just a little fling could be good for you.”

 “That sounds so easy coming from you.” You sigh, flopping down so that you’re resting with your back flush to the mattress and your legs are draped over Eve’s. Your hair is splayed out, and your cat (Dusty) fiddles with it as you speak. “I have, like, no confidence, plus. I’ve never…gone all the way with anyone before. Messing around is one thing but putting it in scares the hell out of me.” You groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

 “You could just give him some head.” Her suggestion makes you snort, “either way, he was totally into you. He’s never talked to me like that. On top of it, he’s not dating anyone around here.” While she speaks, you decide to go through your boxes. You pull out a towel and travel sized toiletries. Throwing a bag of makeup you found onto the vanity adjacent to your bed, you nod at what she’s saying. You kick your clothes off, feeling the sweat from your layered airport outfit cool your skin once exposed to your slightly chilly room.

 “Would you, y’know-” as her sentence trails off, her eyebrows wiggle with implication.

 “Oh absolutely, but like; in my dreams right?” She scoffs at that, and you defensively ask, “well would you?”

 “Nah, I’m holding out for this super cute friend of his that pops by every couple weekends.” Eve sighs dreamily and you quirk an eyebrow at this. She doesn’t further elaborate and you’re too tired to even ask about that. Rather, you finish getting together a change of clothes for the night, not wanting to look sweaty and awful for your first dinner with your family in ages. The black bra you wore accentuates the curves of your breasts rather nicely before they’re hidden behind your carefully wrapped towel; and Eve of course is no stranger to this revelation, “Did you go up a cup size?”

 “Mhm, yep. Thank you for noticing, it’s all the carbs from that bakery near my old place. It was a real problem.” You sigh again for what feels like the billionth time, recalling your binge eating during the worst parts of your most recent breakup. Your long term boyfriend had cheated on you, in your own bed, a tale as old as time. You were miles away from any support system you had, and the only comfort you’d found was through constant snack runs. Snack runs, romantic comedies, and so many tissue boxes. As a result of this you’d put on more pounds than you’d care to ever admit. During the lowest point you had decided that enough was enough and began exercising more. Not working out at a gym by any means, god knows that you did not have the capacity nor the commitment for that. You walked more, and did Chloe Ting workouts in your room when you were feeling motivated enough. “You’d think that considering I’m much more active, I’d have lost more weight. These tits just won’t go away.”

 “More o’ you to love.” You roll your eyes while she suggestively bites her lip. You tell her you’ll be back, and go to take a much needed shower. Washing away the dirt and grime from your long day eases the tension in your shoulders. Your soap smells like lavender, the scent and steam filling your bathroom almost instantly. When you finish, you walk back into your room with your freshly dried hair and a towel still wrapped around you. You shimmy on slightly flared black pants, and you thank whatever is out there that the black turtleneck you chose for the night is the same shade. Finally after throwing on a random (black and white polka dot) pair of fuzzy socks, you get started on your makeup. It’s a simple wing, just to boost your confidence if anything. You keep your base a tinted moisturizer rather than a full coverage one, not wanting to go through the pain of setting everything with powder tonight. Dark brown lines your lips and you pop a matching shade of brown gloss. Feeling content with your freshened up appearance, you adjust your facial piercings back into place. Right as you finish up, your mother’s voice calls to you from outside of your door. A gentle rap against it follows her voice.

 “-would you mind running a plate over to Satoru? Dinner is ready, I'm just waiting for it to cool off a little before serving everyone else.” Your eyes widen in panic, she wants me to run dinner over to him? You don’t feel ready to see your dangerously handsome neighbor so soon. You open your door trying to remain as inconspicuous about your raging emotions as possible, “why, don’t you look lovely dear, did you go up a cup size?”

 “She sure did!” Eve replies still propped against your wall and resting on your bed, the fluffy cat now in her lap. “She would love to take Mr. Gojo a plate of food.” You whip your head around, squinting at her as if to say “you’re dead to me” and she sticks her tongue out at you. You groan quietly before turning back to your mother.

 “I’ve only just met him, do you think that’s a good idea? Won’t it be awkward?”

 “Oh he is a very sweet boy, I doubt you’ll have any problems. Now go get bundled up, it’s gotten colder out there.” Your mother insists, thrusting a hot container of food into your hands. It’s glass, and you’re grateful for the cloth keeping your fingers from being burnt but it’s still very hot to the touch. You don’t protest, if you did you know you’d tip her off. You were the one that always greeted your neighbors, brought leftovers, ran errands for everyone over the years, it’d be strange if you were suddenly opposed to it. “I feel so bad for that poor boy, still doesn’t have a real friend around here. All he does is work, or help out around town. ‘Least I can do is give him some dinner.” Your mother was too sweet for her own good. You hum in response, resigning yourself to the task thrust into your hands. Her bleeding heart was almost sickening. You decide to throw on your grey puffy jacket again, and matching fuzzy earmuffs. Black gloves hug your fingers, when you grab onto the container of food once again you’re thankful for the lack of heat. Your mother retreats down the steps and you close the door, taking a deep breath.

 “Oh my god you’re gonna do it.” Eve teases when you turn back around to her, your red face doesn’t help whatever denial spills from your lips. “Oh my god this is so exciting.” Her jittering frame full of excitement only further adds to your growing anxiety.

 “We’re not doing anything, I’m just being neighborly.”

❄️

Eve’s knowing look haunts you when you find yourself making the small trek to Gojo’s house. The lights are on, smoke coming from the chimney. His Christmas lights, that he’d successfully installed along the railing of his porch; twinkle in tune with your beating heart. You buzz his doorbell, staring at the silver and grey tinsel wreath hanging from his white front door.

 You’re just being neighborly.

 You’re just being neighborly.

 You’re just being-

 The door opens, and instead of staring at the pretty wreath it’s replaced by a slightly dampened shirt clinging onto a muscular chest. You gulp, and your eyes trail up.

 “Hello.” You start when he doesn’t say anything immediately, already feeling awkward.

 “Good evening, Miss.” Gojo’s deep voice is sultry, a stark contrast to his cheerful tone from earlier. He sounded tired. It’d gotten darker as the hours passed, the soft twinkling from the Christmas lights doused his features into an ethereal glow. He’d showered, his hair clearly still damp, and a towel hung over his shoulders. “I see you got all dolled up just to see lil ol’ me!” His teasing implication short circuits your brain. Your mouth runs dry, you forget what you were supposed to say.

 “I-“ you look quickly from his chest to his eyes back to his chest and then away, “do you like stew?”

 “Pardon?” Gojo leans against the frame of his door, his languid pose only accentuating the muscles previously hidden by his winter coat. You really do try to keep your eyes level with his own, but if they drift could anyone blame them?

 “My mother made stew,” you bring the glass dish forward, “well it’s either soup or it’s stew; I can’t remember. It’s hot so be careful.” Your averted gaze entices him to call out your name. Its softness comforts your nerves slightly. You turn to face him again, “oh, yes?”

 “Your mother makes a great stew.” Your eyes focus on his chest while he speaks, and it felt like he’d been flexing on purpose. Taunting you, as if he knew that you were like a cat being coaxed with some catnip. (Spoiler alert: what you brushed off as nothing was entirely deliberate.)

 “Yes, she does, she puts all of her love into her cooking.” You reply, shifting your gaze to finally meet his own.

 “Won’t you have dinner with me?” His tone is enticing, pleading if you focused hard enough to recognize it. His sudden invitation catches you off guard.

 “I’m sorry?”

 “How about I drive you back over to your place, you grab yourself a bowl, and we eat back at mine?” While he tries to sound suggestive, maybe even flirtatious he mainly sounds eager. He was hooked on you, just a single interaction with you and that was it to him. Gojo wanted to take any chance he could get to have you over.

 “I don’t know you.”

 “Well that’s what dinner is for silly.” He leans down towards you ever so slightly. It began to dawn on you that Gojo was a very bold man. If he wasn’t bold then he was certainly confident, and he was certain that you wanted him too. “Drinks, of course; are on me.”

 “I’m not sure..” you trail off, a shiver running through you as the night breeze starts to seep through your coat. Your breath comes out in a fog and Gojo of course seizes that opportunity as well. 

 “It is freezing outside, do you want a ride back to your place anyway?” You glance at him again, and he senses your hesitation. His mouth begins to open, but you cut him off.

 “I would appreciate that, thank you.” His smile is blinding and he turns inside slightly to shuffle around the wall for his keys. He slips on a pair of snow boots outside of his door (near the doormat). While he guides you to his car you realize how underdressed he is.

 “Mr. Gojo, where is your coat?!” You want to scold him like you would your siblings.

 “I’m fine like this, your place is just across the street.” You can’t protest when he opens the passenger door for you, but when you slip inside it’s like an ice box.

 “My god are you sure?” Your teeth want to chatter but you will them not to. With your jaw tensing you almost beg him to go put a coat on. “You’ll catch your death in here.”

 “You really hate this shirt, huh?” His tone is incredulous but you can tell he was just joking around. Even so, he reaches behind you towards the backseat. His proximity causes you to freeze up again, puffs of your breath fan across his close figure. He was so close to you; he smelled of peppermint. His bulging chest was so close, if you moved even the slightest bit you could easily rest your head against it. His pebbling nipples from behind his shirt seemed to taunt you, damn the cold weather. Gojo was invading your space on purpose, of course, and you were innocently oblivious. He produces a navy jacket, and as he slips it on you wonder if the wide turtleneck even keeps him warm.

 “I’d hate for you to catch a cold, think of your poor students.”

 “Ah, so you’ve heard of me?”

 “Just this afternoon.”

 “How’s my reputation?”

 “It’s hard to say, so far it’s leaning towards your favor.” You tut, it’s playful. “My personal opinion however, has yet to be determined.”

 “I’ll have to find some way to get you on my side.”

 Once the vehicle is warmed up the short drive to your house is made in a peaceful silence but there is a tension growing. From what, you can’t quite place. You thank the gods when you realize that you’re in your driveway. There’s a palpable pause between you both, he’s waiting for you to leave. Your fingers twitch from their spot in your lap, and you feel yourself stalling. Looking to the side, your pretty glossed lips part, Gojo finds himself staring at them. A cool feeling washes over yourself, not wanting to part just yet; you can’t stop your mouth from moving.

 “I’ll be right back.”

 Gojo blinks, “you will?” He swears he can hear his heartbeat quickening almost immediately. 

“Yes, I won’t be long. Dinner is still okay?”

 Fuck yes it is.

 Your eyes widen and he realizes that he’d said that out loud. He doesn’t fluster easily but he coughs to cover his brief outburst. Gojo was not an eager man, as cocky as he may seem he truly wanted for nothing. He’d never had to proposition anyone before. He knew he was good looking, he had decent finances on top of it. Yet when he approached that window earlier his confidence seemed to leave him instantly. Your wide eyes and flushed cheeks were endearing, not to mention you were exactly his type. He wanted you bad.

 You don’t waste any more time and unbuckle yourself, hurrying to leave his car. You had to be quick or you’d change your mind. He watched with bated breath as you hurriedly walk up the steps and into the warmth of your childhood home. As soon as you’re out of his sight, Gojo relaxes almost immediately. He leans down to rest his forehead against the steering wheel, a dramatically whisper-shouted, “fuckkkkk yessss.” escaping him in the process. He was so in, you were right within arms reach. He felt lame, wanting you so bad despite having no idea who you were. If he was a better person with a clearer mind his almost imstwnt longing for you might have concerned him. However he was simple, all he could think of at this point was having you under him by the end of the night. Call him a sleaze, but he truly didn’t do this often, so he was going to take what he could get. Gojo’s fingers grip the steering wheel harder, and as his body thrums with anticipation he finds himself hurriedly tidying himself up. He checks his appearance in the mirror, perfect as always. Nothing in his teeth, lips glossed. His hair was neat but also messy in a sexy way, like he’d done it on purpose-yet he ruffled it some more for good measure. He unzips his jacket to get a look at what exactly he had put on last minute. The compression shirt he threw on when he had heard his doorbell ring was a lucky grab. He knew it hugged his chest well, clinging to him a little harder and a couple areas dampened with his shower slicked body. It was no surprise that the grey sweats that hung low on his hips didn’t leave much to the imagination. Yeah, he had this in the bag.

 On your side of things, your heart thrummed in a gentle acceptance. You’d left Gojo to his own devices and upon entry into your home, you were refusing to let panic set in. Your siblings (Emmett, Phoebe, Lillian) as well as Eve and your parents are situated around the table. Slices of warm bread, a tub of butter, as well as carefully placed bowls of stew were placed in front of everyone. They’d been waiting for you. Your mother is the first to greet you. Shit, you were beginning to feel bad.

 “I know this is so last minute, but do you care if I have dinner with Mr. Gojo?” You hate being inconsiderate, you know they’ve missed you. It was your first night home, after all. They were so clearly waiting for you to get back.

 “What for?” Your father sneers, his bright mood upon seeing you dampening at the mention of your new neighbor. “Why can’t he just eat over here?”

 “Well honey, there weren’t enough chairs. The old set is in the attic, I didn’t want to bother with all of that.” Your mother explains, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, dear. Getting close with people around your age is important after all.”

 “He’s in his late twenties, Maira!”

 “Making friends is important, Christian. She doesn’t have many, love.”

 “Eve is here though, that’s so rude to her!”

 “Mr. Manivong, I’m here like, every night. I won’t mind.” Eve is practically bouncing in her seat and you know you’re in for it later. She tries to not sound too excited at the prospect of you having dinner with the hottest catch in town. “I’ll keep the bed warm for you, my love.” She salutes you and you bite your lip in nervousness. You make a vague gesture towards yourself, silently asking if you look alright. Her salute shifts into an okay and then she begins to dramatically fan herself. You snort and shake your head at that. Neither of you realize your father was watching the both of you until you hear a scoff come from him.

 “Of course.” He grumbles out. Everyone in the room ignores him.

 You don’t remember seeing your mother leave her seat. Before you even realize it she has a hot bowl shoved into your hands as well as a warm wrapped loaf of homemade bread; and she’s ushering you out the door. Soft words of encouragement and excitement leave her, vague mentions of so handsome good for you, and take your time sweetheart your father will live. Your father’s grumbling fades as the door shuts behind you, and you’re then faced with the reality that you’re about to have dinner with a (handsome) complete stranger. The cold autumn air bites your cheeks, and you steel yourself. 

 It’s just dinner. You’re just neighbors having dinner.

 You open the passenger door once again, and Gojo’s slightly slackened frame straightens immediately. His features turn bright, and despite him waiting for you in your driveway; he was still happy that you actually came back out. He doesn’t waste time with useless greetings, he just makes sure you’re buckled in and pulls away. It’s begun to snow again, the fat clusters tap against the windshield filling the silence. You’re undeniably excited, your frame practically buzzes with the idea of a new friend. Friends, yeah right. You were having a hard time admitting to yourself the real attraction you were starting to feel for him.

 Gojo glances at you when he’s pulling back into his property. Once parked his eyes find themselves lingering on your thighs as they subconsciously rub together. His crystalline hues meet your own and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. You both try not to awkwardly clamber out, but you notice that he seems just as stiff as you are. He hadn’t bothered to lock his door, when he opens it for you he tries not to appear too eager. You leave your shoes near the entryway after you kick the snow off of them and he follows suit. You linger by the threshold, clutching your container of soup. Gojo takes it from you, his fingers lightly brushing your own, and sets it on an island in the middle of his kitchen and dining room. He makes an excited hum when you hand him the bread as well. 

 Upon entry you’d noticed how cozy his home was. The living room greeted you at arrival, black rectangular picture frames hung in several areas. Among them were photos of family members or friends, some of Gojo himself with them. The same man with stretched ears was in quite a few, you noticed. Situated next to his grey couch was a photo in a silver oval frame of Gojo and some students, on what you assumed was a field day. They were all bright smiles and peace signs. A mug that read World’s Greatest Teacher was placed next to it. The dining and kitchen area was separated by partial walls and a marble island, the bottom cupboards had various Christmas washcloths hanging from the outside of them and winter themed placemats were on his dark oak dining table. He had one of those realistic trees that looked like the branches were brushed with snow; it was in the leftmost corner of the room, closest to the door. You could tell he started decorating, a box of ornaments in varying shapes, sizes, and colors sat unopened near it. Silver and gold tinsel were still perfectly wrapped in their packaging. The only thing on the large tree were warm twinkling rainbow lights.

 He steps close to you once more, and offers to take your coat. You thank him, shuffling the thick garment off. You don’t notice how his eyes linger on your chest for a little longer than they should have. The ribbing of your sweater accentuated the outline of your breasts, and now it was his turn to be distracted. He wanted you before and seeing the curves of your body for the first time didn’t help sate his desire. It certainly didn’t help his case when you seemed to push your breasts out more as you held your hands in nervousness behind your back. Truth be told the only thing on your mind was how sticky you felt in that jacket. It was hot in your house as well as his car with the thick layers on and you began sweating. It was relieving not having it on anymore but your breasts under the warm sweater felt suffocated and the thing you wanted most was to just take your damned top off. Your uncomfortable shifting only brought more attention to them, yet you still didn’t pick up on Gojo’s virgin-like ogling. Eyes glued to one thing only: your tits.

 “Well we better eat it while it’s hot.” His deep voice cuts through the suddenly thickened air, startling you. You nod, following him to the dining area. He doesn’t bother taking any of his own bowls out of the cupboards, choosing to instead grab a couple of spoons to save time on dishes. You can respect that, you hated doing the dishes.

 Rather than being any more nervous, you decide that the sound of clinking silverware and the news playing on his television as white noise isn’t so bad. Small talk wasn’t something you excelled in. Starting a conversation was a hurdle in itself, but maintaining a steady flow while keeping the interest of the other person was overwhelming. As a result of your awkward mannerisms and ‘lack of interest’ your relationships were few and far between. The only person that seemed to bask in your silence was Eve, who could chatter away to no end. When it struck you that Gojo didn’t seem to have the desire to make you talk, it oddly comforted you. You’d always felt pressured to fill the empty space and you usually fell short of any fulfilling interaction. 

 Eating with your neighbor might not be so bad if it stayed just like this.

 Gojo clears his throat. “Your mother is a great cook.”

 “Yea, she is.”

 “She has your dad or one of the kids run me over some dinner or a snack almost every night.” He remarks, gesturing towards the island behind you. You turn around and spot a couple bags of various snacks that you could always find in your own cupboard. At the center of the island was a dish with three cheesecake slices tucked inside. You loved your mother’s cheesecake. “She made that a couple days ago, I’ve been too busy to indulge.” He pouts, going over to grab you both a slice. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth and hardly any time for myself so she’s always saving the day.” You accept the slice, eager to sate your own craving.

 “She’s pretty great, and her cheesecake is the best.” He hums in agreement, a cozy silence falls into place once more. 

 While initially dinner together was a little awkward, all of Gojo’s aforementioned confidence seemingly disappeared; eventually conversation picked up. While usually you were slow to open up, Gojo had a way of getting you to talk without trying. You’d learned that he was quite the nerd, and when it felt like conversation was running short he would bring up a game he liked to play during his free time. A book he’d read recently. An anime one of his students recommended. With dinner having been finished long ago, you’d both gravitated to his couch.

Maybe I should head out, it’s gettin’ pretty nasty out there…

No, no, it’s freezing. Why don’t you wait a little while, at least for the snow to let up?

Reruns of old Christmas specials played in the background on his wall mounted television. Glasses of red wine reflected the flames from the fireplace underneath it. Small talk about work, college, short term aspirations; morphed into steady laughter and stories from your childhood. The longer you spent on it the more you realized his sofa was just too comfortable. The atmosphere was quite intimate, you were clueless to the fact that it was deliberate. Gojo hadn’t planned on having you over so soon, it wasn’t his fault that he was thrown off a bit. Naturally, he’d set things into motion the way they should be throughout the evening. He had dimmed the lights over the course of the night, letting his fireplace illuminate his living area. A consequence free show played as a source of casual entertainment. Gojo casually lit a holiday pine scented candle in the kitchen while you had been enjoying dessert, and when things shifted to the living room he lit a sage scent that complimented it perfectly. He, of course, wouldn’t be a good host without providing refreshments. His finest and most expensive wine, a sparkling palate cleanser that wasn’t too sweet, wrapped foreign chocolates, and dried fruit were neatly placed on his coffee table in front of the sofa. He had you right where he wanted you.

 “Oh I didn’t realize you moved from there! I have a couple o’ buddies around that area.” his features brighten after learning where you moved from.

 “Ya don’t say! Small word.”

 You could feel as the minutes shifted into an hour, and then an hour and a half; your hesitancy to leave grew more and more. As your stories became more intimate, the proximity between you both shortened. While you weren’t put off by how close he was, it was something you were hyper aware of. Your elbows brushed lightly against one another on the back of the couch as he mirrored the way your head rested against your hand. If someone had peaked in on you both, they might have mistaken you for good friends or partners, the laughter and conversation flowing freely between you both. The alcohol in your system had your core feeling warm, your cheeks rosy, and your lips loose. He was practically entranced by you as you explained how your recent ex tore your heart to shreds.

 “Eve ended up flying up there for a weekend and she helped me throw his stuff out. Couldn’t just throw my mattress out though, but I guess it’s fine since I moved back here in the end.” You reach over to the coffee table for your glass of wine, taking a sip. An amused snort leaves your mouth while you watch on the tv a stop-motion reindeer jump around in glee at his crush admitting that she thought he was cute.

 “I can’t believe he cheated on you, in your own bed.” He remarks, shaking his head with a click of his tongue. Gojo can’t take his eyes off of your form, soaking in the subtlety of your enjoyment.

 “Ugh, I know! He couldn’t even make me cum in it, what made him think he could get her to?” The wine seemed to remove your filter. Despite the both of you being equally surprised by your words it brings bubbling laughter up from your stomachs. Gojo laughs in further disbelief; you laugh at your own expense.

 “Oh you poor thing,” his sympathetic coo is bordering on patronizing, “I bet I could make you cum.” The wine seemed to remove his filter as well. He had mumbled it, you don’t think he even meant for those words to leave his stream of consciousness. There’s mirth swirling inside of his piercing gaze, and something else that you can’t quite place.

 “I’m sorry?” Your laughter teeters off, and Gojo decides that he might as well just go for it.

 “How ‘bout it? Wanna fool around?” He wraps his hand around yours, and takes the wine glass from you. When he sets it aside, your breath hitches in your throat. His delicate features were tipsily flushed, much like your own. And to your absolute horror: he sure was handsome.

 “I don’t know you.” Your statement from earlier bubbles up and escapes from your throat before you can even think of stopping it. Yet you lean in closer, your fingers move from being dropped into your lap, to grazing the surface of the cushion between the both of you. He places his own hand to just barely ghost across the tips of His fingers against yours.

 “Well, we’ve met.“ he holds up his free hand, and ticks away at his fingers, “Had dinner. And now we’ve shared some drinks. I’d say we’ve been on a couple o’ dates by now.” You find yourself leaning back as he leans into you further. Fingers itching to reach out for him.

 “I’m not comfortable sleeping with you tonight.” Tonight? Does that mean it was possible in the future? Truth be told, his offer was tempting, you just felt shameful having sweat so much. You don’t miss the way his features light up with excitement, however. You both crawl backwards, and his forearms rest on either side of your head, his nose barely brushing against yours. He’d lost that dumb pair of shades two wine glasses ago, wanting to see you without any obstructions. His lips almost graze your own as he speaks.

 “We don’t have to have sex.” Right, he said he wanted to fool around. You hum, biting your lip lightly in thought. 

 “Gojo I-“

 “Satoru.” He corrects, ocean blue eyes boring into your own hazy ones.

 “I really need to shower, I sweat on the way over here, I showered earlier but I’d feel terrible-“ He’s nodding along, not seeming to care for your (very valid) excuses. They’re falling on deaf ears, because why were you wrapping around his neck? Why was he so damn mesmerizing? You felt stupid for a brief moment, and figured it didn’t actually matter if you just kissed him. So you did. It was a light peck at first, your eyes flutter closed, and he reciprocates with a peck of his own. One turns into two, two turns into three, three shifts into a deeper kiss. You make a noise in the back of your throat, or was that him? Your fingers tangle into his snowy locks, as he settles his weight between your legs. Your thighs grip his hips and it’s definitely him that groans. You weren’t ever really into kissing, it repulsed you when it went on for too long. But as Gojo experimentally swiveled his hips into yours, the slight friction eliciting a sultry moan, you think to yourself that you don’t actually mind it. Not with him at least. His tongue snakes its way into your mouth, and as it dances with your own it almost hypnotizes you. He pants in between kisses, growing more eager and frustrated with every passing moment that he grinds into you or sucks on your lips and your tongue. It grows sloppier, he eventually switches from your lips to kissing around them. Drool gathers around the edges, and he eagerly laps it up, but this only worsens the mess. He kisses down your mouth, your chin, your jaw, your neck. It’s fiery, hotter than the flames flickering across the room, you think. 

 As you become uncomfortable with the heat, you squirm to pull your shirt off. He pulls back, going to remove his clothes as well. The obvious tent in his pants causes your fingers to stutter with the button on your own bottoms. The large imprint only grows larger as his pants are removed and reveals a monster confined behind black briefs. You gulp and stand up to shimmy your pants off, walking away to put your clothes somewhere you could easily find them. You were stalling as your nerves built up again. Were you going to have to stick that huge thing into your mouth? He’s oblivious to your inner struggle, making himself comfortable on the couch below you. He taps his thigh a couple of times, a wordless beckoning when he notices you staring at him. The short distance to him has you nervously clasp your hands behind your back. When you’re in front of him again, you drop to your knees. His blatant confusion almost immediately embarrasses you. Why did he look like that? Shame wells within your gut as you believe you’d made a mistake.

 “I’m sorry, did you not want me to suck you off?”

 He stares down at you, blanking on what to say. Of course he did, he was just hoping to make out some more first. A noise of consideration thrums in the back of his throat, and then suddenly he beams at you.

 “No actually; I’m gonna eat you out.” He flashes you a cheeky grin, his confidence from earlier returning. “Awkward question but I gotta ask, are you clean?”

 “Yes I am. Haven’t done anything since I last tested.” You tilt your head to the side. “But why would you wanna do that right now? Like I said, I sweat a lot earlier.”

 “…to get you off? Because it’ll be fun?”

 “Oh, are you sure?” Your hesitation is cute, and concerning. Rather than respond he sits up and wordlessly pulls you onto the couch so that you’re next to him. He lays you out gently, and your heart thrums. “I’m not sure if I’ll finish tonight. I’m really okay with just doing you. I wouldn’t want to put you through such a hassle.” You ramble in embarrassment, your shame at being so hard to sexually handle evident.

 Your previous partners were less than attentive. They’d usually moved on or given up after a few minutes. Suffice it to say you certainly hadn’t finished from any head you’d briefly received. You just couldn’t help the numb feeling you’d felt every time someone touched you intimately. Unbeknownst to you Gojo was not only competitive, he also loved a good challenge. There was a chance to be the best head you’d ever gotten, and the first to make you cum all in one go. You feel his breath travel from your clavicle, nibbling kisses that wander downward over your navel. Your shivering at the anticipation of his touch is not lost on him. 

 “Gotta be insane to think that I’m not gonna eat this pussy tonight.” As he said that, he finally spread your legs for him. Your knees touch the couch at your side. His hands are flush against the swell of your thighs; holding them in place. Gojo peppers the ghost of short and soft pecks against your clothed sensitivity. You try to resist the urge to buck up, but at your subtle movement he firmly buries his face against the fabric. It’s a silent encouragement to do what you want. You aren’t used to it, and in that moment you are so grateful that you had the foresight to match your panties with your bra. He continues to kiss the same area, they deepen with each one. He could sense your lack of confidence, your inexperience, and he was perfectly okay with taking the lead. You’re unsure when he does it, but your panties are suddenly pulled to the side. The wet muscle that was buried in your mouth earlier finds itself dancing with your lower lips this time. There was a tense silence in the room, save for the crackling of flames in his fireplace, but as he starts to work you; your breath audibly hitches. You squeeze your eyes shut, and the pad of his tongue runs up and down from your twitching hole to your buzzing clit. It’s almost terrifying, your hands go to your mouth to suppress the noises begging for an escape. You can’t help but pant as his tongue continues to torment you. He applies just the right amount of pressure, soft lapping at your clit so wet and noisy.

 “Ngh.” Your back arches, he applies just a little more pressure up and down your slit before sucking on your clit. It’s hypnotizing but you find yourself becoming overwhelmed. One of your hands snakes into his cloudy tresses, “Wait, Gojo, I’m getting scared.” Your voice comes out high pitched and whiny, it’s the first thing you’ve said since he laid you out. He moans against you upon hearing you, “This is scaring me a little, can you slow down?” The breathlessness in your voice makes the hard-on behind his briefs throb almost painfully.

 “Call me Satoru, sweetheart.” He kisses your clit then, having missed feeling the hard nub against his soft lips. “Of course I can slow down, whatever you want.” He doesn’t sound put off, he wasn’t complaining about his jaw, he wasn’t just whipping his dick out. Yet you can’t help but feel embarrassed and like you’re inconveniencing him. With your inexperience taking over you mumble and push his face back, “I’m sorry I’ve never really done this for so long before, if you want we can switch.” He pouts at the feeling of your warm hand holding him in place.

 “What do you mean ‘so long’ it’s barely been ten minutes.” He’s puffing out a playful laugh, and then weaving his arms around your thighs. Hugging them almost to bring your arousal closer to his face, he gently rubs the plush of them as he starts to gently lap at your slit again. You tasted amazing, he had to focus on not cumming in his pants as soon as he was met with your dripping sex. You were paranoid for nothing, Gojo couldn’t get enough of you.

 “Gonna keep going until you cum, we can stay here the whole night for all I care.”

 “I’ve never finished like this before.” You admit, hiding your face behind your hands. It’s like the embarrassment can’t leave your body. His ministrations don’t stop, and they start to grow in intensity at your words. You’d been spurring him on whether you had meant to or not. 

 “Shouldn’t have told me that sweetheart, now we’re really gonna be here all night.”

 “Gojo, I can’t stay here all-“

 “Satoru.“ The deepening of his voice is just barely a growl, and your hips buck in response. 

 You suddenly yelp, because instead of feeling his tongue enter you; you feel him shift so that one of his hands is positioned at your entrance. A warm digit probes the outside of it, not entering but teasing you. Your thighs clench around his head and he groans at this. “Fuck yeah, you want it?”

 “I, I don’t know. Your fingers are so long.” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, and if you were being truthful you probably did want it. You were absentmindedly grinding your hips, swiveling them into his prodding touch.

 “You think my fingers are long? Wait till you see my dick.” His teeth playfully nibble at your thighs while he waits for your permission. You inhale sharply, still trying to suppress the noises of pleasure he so desperately wanted you to let out.

 “A little is fine, but go slow please. It’s been a long time.” Your soft and curious gaze pierced his own, and he knows he’s in for it. You’re gonna be the death of him.

 He tuts, “I don’t know.~ It doesn’t sound like you want it bad enough.” His finger betrays him, and it shallowly teases your entrance. Labored puffs of air leave your mouth at this. Your eyebrows pull together and he could cum on the spot just by the sight of you. There’s an almost magnetic push and pull between you both. As your hips continue to gyrate, furthering in intensity as your frustration grows; he’s barely teasing you and pulling himself in the opposite direction just to lead you on. Never fully leaving you, remaining firm in just grazing. Occasionally a faint whimper will escape you, and he rewards you with pushing in just a fraction deeper each time. He was finding out that you didn’t have to try hard to get what you wanted from him. 

 “S…Satoru.” Just hearing those few syllables tumble from your trembling pout has his hips stuttering into the couch. He’d picked up a steady grind of his own while waiting for you to just give in to your desire. “I want it.” It’s barely audible and he makes an incredulous noise in the back of his throat.

 “Pardon?” He’s tugging your panties down, tucking the delicate purple lace into the cushion of his sectional. His breath ghosts over your sensitive nub, he can’t help but reward it with a sloppy kiss. You mewl almost instantly, the loudest you’d been all night. “Yeah, you got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

 “I want it.” You sound so sure now, your cares finally departing from your conscience. What did this matter in the end? You huff, caressing his face and he eagerly leans into your touch. He’s kissing your fingers, and peppering your wrist with his affection.

 “You want it bad?” He’s lifting your hips just enough to provide himself with better access to your dripping folds. The sight of him through your half-lidded eyes has you panting once more. You eagerly nod, continuing to caress his face and massage his scalp.

 “Nnmmh!” Your throat draws out sickeningly sweet whimpers once he’d begun his descent upon your flower once again. This time with added vigor, and a delicious friction you’d never felt before. His experimental kitten licks from earlier evolving into deep drags of his tongue against each and every dip. With his glossy lips on your clit, they alternate between harsh sucking and firm circular motions. He still doesn’t finger you, your fear and hesitation from earlier finally blooms into a deep desire for more. “Satoru.” You mewl, the drag of your voice heavenly, the breathy pitch sardonically kissing his senses.

 “Yeah, baby?” He’s removed himself from you with an obscene pop from your clit, his mouth and chin coated in a glossy sheen of your slick and his saliva. You’d been grinding against him harder, searching for more friction.

 “I want your fingers in me so bad, Satoru.” You’re begging at this point, pulling him up briefly to kiss him in the hopes of sweetening him up. You’re entangling tongues, he’s dragging his clothed erection dangerously across your weeping petals. The sound of your mouths colliding and teeth mashing quickly fills the air once more. Gojo’s hot touch finds itself attached to your breasts, and he wastes no time finally ripping that god forsaken bra off. Your breasts spill out of the cups, and two twinkling pieces of jewelry flirt with him at eye level. He’d instantly pulled away from the intensity of your lip lock as soon as your pierced nipples had made contact with the air. His large hands find purchase on your plush chest and you push into his touch. The gentle massage he gives you almost relaxes you more than it arouses you. The friction from his hips against yours, his soft suckling on your neck, and the fervent kneading of your breasts makes you lightheaded in the most tantalizing way. He’s finally snaking his way back down to your core, kissing along that same fiery path. He doesn’t say anything, too entranced by your every movement. A single digit almost immediately bullies its way past your resistance. The inside of you is tight, warm, and so obnoxiously wet. His finger slid in so easily thanks to the abundance of your natural lubrication. You finally moan out, arching once again into the pleasure he gives you. He’s working you, in and out, in and out. Licking and sucking up and down from your entrance right back to your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Your toes begin to curl, you’d never felt this electric before. Your hips rock yourself against his face, and you give in to the pleasure. Allowing yourself to close your eyes, run your fingers through his silky hair.

 “This pussy tastes so good, sweetheart.” Your absent nod in his direction has him biting back a snicker. You’re lost in the pleasure but he wants you to do more than this. He wants you to feel so much more. He wants you desperately. His pace picks up in intensity, lapping at your clit and steadily thrusting two fingers into you. The addition of another digit has you immediately blanching.

 “Ah, r’there!” They thrum against your sponge-y sensitivity, “ah, ah, ah! So good!~” And while your moaning doesn’t grow in pitch, you are hardly being loud, your vocalized praise encourages him. Targeting your g-spot he nibbles and suckles on your clit relentlessly. His wrist is escaping you fast, pounding back into you harder each time. Your honey squelches and it fills the room drowning out the noise from his crackling fireplace. You don’t notice him reach over to shut the specials you’d previously been watching off. You also don’t notice the way he occasionally pulls his mouth away from you to take in the intensity of your being in the throes of pleasure. He was determined to get you off. As he’s working back into another rhythm with the intent to finish you, he hits that hot spot over and over again. “Satoru~ ngh.” Your head is thrashing back and forth, “Satoru…is t’much I feel weird, baby, oh- slow down.”

 “Fuck, what did you just call me?” He suddenly stops his ministrations and you almost sob in frustration as your teetering peak is pulled away from you. You stare at him, eyes fogged from your heat and confusion. Didn’t he want you to call him by his first name? He kisses you then, kicking off his briefs. It’s more intense than earlier, if that were even possible. He’s between your legs and you feel something smooth prod at your slippery entrance.

 “B..baby?”

 “Shit, call me that from now on, sweet girl.” His words are punctuated by a shallow swing of his hips against you, length sliding against your thigh. He’s staring into your eyes, they’re blown and dark to an animalistic degree; his hair is disheveled into beautiful chaos by your own hands. He’s intimidating to say the least, and yet something about him was eagerly welcoming you in. If Santa existed then you’d hoped you would see Satoru wrapped under your tree for Christmas. By gods was he beautiful.

 “Who’s making you feel good, baby?”

 “Satoru is?” Your questioning tone has him rasping out a humorous gasp between a sloppy kiss and he’s moaning into the next one.

 “Fuck yeah, call out to me.” He’s massaging the fat of your breasts, running his fingers along your sides soothingly, squeezing along the plush of your tummy, kissing your face, your lips, your neck. Finally he’s back to persistently penetrating your gummy insides. The slick walls can’t decide whether to suck him up or push him out, and his dick thrums with want at the thought of feeling you around him. Satoru sits on his haunches, your lower half thrown over his own, and if he moved even a little bit he could insert himself into you if he was so inclined. Instead, he’s watching you writhe under his touch, fingering you without a care for your overstimulation. Rubbing his spare hand across your clit, skilled digits flat as they rub impossibly fast against it.

 “Mmm, ha,” you pant, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “ah wait!” The pounding motion of his fingers going in and out of you grows into that intensity once again. Pounding. Pounding and pounding as he’s rubbing your sensitive bud with no sign of letting up. “Satoru please! Something weird is happening. Ungh!” Your voice peaks almost pathetically, and he’s laughing at you. Your writhing is amusing and so attractive to him he doesn’t know if he should be euphoric or in disbelief.

 “Haha, look at you! You said you wouldn’t cum! You’re almost there aren’t you? You wanna cum, Miss?” He’s throbbing against your backside, sliding in any way he can against you. Desperate for sweet friction but determined to ensure that this isn’t about him. Wet beads of precum staining the skin where the head of his member slides freely. “Cum for me? Don’ be scared you’re just cummin’. Are you tellin’ me you’ve never felt this before?” You shake your head profusely, and grab his wrist to find purchase. He doesn’t stop, his pounding almost bruising. Finally his fingers speed up just right against your clit and the small shriek that tumbles past your sobbing makes him choke out an obscenely loud moan. It sounds pornographic and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the one being brutally pleasured. Despite barely any stimulation he was clearly as fucked out as you were, and he practically cums when a massive wave of sparkling slick splatters across his abdomen. It paints his wrist, his abs, his face, your thighs. Fat tears fall from your drunk eyes and he’s moaning again, “oh fuck-“ sorry, sorry, sorry, “you just squirted on me!” He’s laughing out loud, and your embarrassment makes you want to run away. That hasn’t happened before, I’m sorry! Gojo lays you down once again, his fingers barely leave your tight cavern.

 “I’ve never done that before.” Your pathetic whining from embarrassment nearly sends him over the edge, “oh my god I’m so sorry!”

 “No, no, no, awe, baby.” He’s cooing, kissing you once again, “uh uh, no apologizing, that was so sexy I almost came just from the sight of it.” you’re moaning some more at his soothing.

 “It was good, baby? 

 “So good, sweetheart.” his fingers slow to a stop. He brings them to his lips, gingerly

sucking them clean. His vulgar display has you clench around nothing. Satoru then positions his erection flush against your lower lips.

 “Wait, Satoru, I’ve never...” Your voice trails off and he sucks in a sharp breath eyes practically rolling to the back of his skull as he waits for you to finish your sentence, “I haven’t gone all the way.” You mewl when he pulls away to smack his hardness across the sputtering wetness.

 “Shit I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.” He’s panting, and the state of his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks brings a pang to your heart. “I wasn’t gonna put it in, can I just feel you?” He licks the tears that escape from your eyes, and sucks on your desperate lips. His own desperation manifested in the form of shallow ruts against your overstimulated pussy. You nod, spreading your legs to welcome him further into your embrace. He tries not to let surprise take over his features as you reach out your hand to lay flat over his sliding prick. You apply pressure, and the both of you groan as a result. With you pressing his throbbing erection against your plushy folds as he slides back and forth it provides a sweet relief he’d been desperately needing. He was shameless in voicing his noises of pleasure, he was so sensitive considering it’d been a long time for him as well. Your noisy slick sloshing and creating a mess of you both fills the room. “God, this pussy is the best. So good baby.” His rutting picks up in pace, he tenderly holds your face just to kiss you hard. You’re both moaning into each other, noises filling his space so naturally.

 Slip and slide.

 Slipping and sliding.

 Your lower halves dance with each other so agonizingly, and you find yourself pushing him back to grind yourself on him. “Satoru I’m close again, ah.” Your head is thrown back, it’s as if you’re a siren calling out to him and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Your features are cast in the dazzling lights of his tree. “Ah, ngh, ah!” You lean down, hands splayed across his pale chest, breasts scrunching together and he almost thrusts into you. He grabs your thighs, rocking you harder onto him. His groaning and grunting as your sweat and juices flow freely between you makes your slippery descent all the more intense. It’s sudden, your orgasm wracks through your entire body, “oh fuck!” You lean down to desperately kiss him, and he finds it adorable. You’re so cute and as he’s swiveling his hips upwards to chase his own high he lets you know.

 “So cute baby, so good for me. Cum all over me that’s right, I’m gonna cum too.” You were an affectionate and kissy partner, everything he’d ever wanted.

 “Cum for me,” you kiss him again, sucking on his bottom lip and then you bite it hard drawing back with a pop, “cum for me, baby.” He’s about to, his eyes roll back into his skull, but before he can you’re pulling away and making your way down his figure this time. You lick a thick stripe of saliva from his heavy balls all the way up to the tip of his swollen prick. You take him in easily, mouth being stuffed impossibly full. You’d been wanting this all night, to feel him down the back of your throat.

 Gojo was big, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to fit all of him into your mouth. That certainly didn’t stop you from trying, and as you’re sputtering and choking on him he gasps in encouragement. He’s seeing stars regardless, tensing to keep from spilling down your throat immediately. He steals a glance at your bobbing head, your timid freshly manicured fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping what your mouth can’t take. It’s too much, and with only a couple measly thrusts he’s spilling into your mouth.

 “What are you an angel?!” He’s gasping, moaning like a porn star once again. Although you didn’t know much about him, Gojo being loud in bed somehow just made sense. “Shit take it, take it, take it.” He’s fucking his seed into your mouth, you attempt to breathe heavily through your nose and suppress as many gagging noises as you can. It’s sloppy, and bubbling past your lips and Gojo can’t stop himself. Drunk on you, drunk on the feeling of your lips; nether and otherwise against his dick. “Fuck I think I love you baby, holy shit you’re the best.” He’s rambling and you try not to let his fucked out confession freak you out. Rather than dwell on his pillow talk, you make a show of swallowing his load, sticking your tongue out once you’ve finished. “Shit come here, gimme a kiss sweetheart.” He’s grabbing you by the shoulders, pulling you to straddle him. You lean in to kiss him, the intensity from your orgasm fizzling out as you languidly rub your swollen lips together. You taste bitter and sweet at the same time, an almost dangerous combination for Satoru. The kiss you both share is dizzying, raw lips drawing together just to keep feeling each other. He sucks on your tongue and fondles your breasts some more, his hands having felt lonely without you in them. You think to yourself that if he did love you after one night of fooling around that you might be okay with it. 

 “Did you really enjoy it, Satoru?” You ask, but he doesn’t even need to answer. Not when he is gazing back at you with half lidded eyes, a lazy smile, sloppy hair, and a flushed chest, neck, and face. His lithe hands rub your sides in comfort, your shoulders in appreciation, your hips in adoration.

 “Gimme another kiss, sweetheart.” And you do, with no hesitation. It’s languid, romantic even. “Shit, wanna go again?”

 “I have to go home, Satoru, next time though.” His dumb smile has you bashfully looking away. When he reaches his pinky out in front of you, you grasp it.

 “Promise?”

 “Promise.” There would be a next time? He’s stupidly elated just thinking about such a promise. You’re grinning to yourself, without realizing it you stroke his hand soothingly. Fingers intertwining, there’s another feeling between the both of you blossoming.

 “So, about your Christmas plans?”

❄️

Satoru offered to give you a ride home once you’d both sobered up and you happily accepted. Before leaving, he was attentive, making sure your body was okay, that you weren’t sore anywhere. Tentative fingers brushed over your body with a dampened and warm washcloth, cleaning any mess that was made. He located your discarded clothes, handing them to you minus the pair of panties you came with. They were conveniently misplaced but your brain was so foggy that you didn’t care. He was clearly the best sexual partner you’d ever had, and you hoped that the good chemistry would be a constant among the both of you.

 The drive back was light, there wasn’t an awkward atmosphere, rather he seemed to be in a great mood and it rubbed off on you. You’re looking out the window, rosy cheeks scrunched into a giddy smile. His hand rested on your thigh, a caring thumb ran soothing circles in place. It was snowing again, the tiny flakes melted as they landed on the window. When you pull into your driveway for the final time, your hand meets his own where it rested.

 “I had a really good time.” you admit, although it was rather obvious. You sound hesitant like you weren’t sure how he would act around you now that everything was said and done. He didn’t like it. He brings your laced fingers up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles as he holds it against his cheek. 

 “We could have a better time tomorrow.” You smile and look away again.

 “I don’t know…” but you don’t pull your hand away, instead you bring yourself closer to him. You peer at him, biting your bottom lip nervously. “Isn’t that too soon?”

 “Never.” 

 “Hmmm…” you look at your house. The lights are off inside, your rooms window is at the front of the house on the second floor and you can see that it’s still on. You roll your eyes fondly, of course Eve was still awake. She confirms that by peeking her head out of your curtain, she spots Gojo’s car and immediately shuts it. “Well, I’d love to.”

 “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He kisses your hand again and you think to yourself that you wished he would just kiss you again. As if reading your mind he gently cups your face and brings you in for one. It’s languid, and while it wasn’t meant to be deep it naturally evolved into something bordering on intense. He can’t get enough of you, his insatiable lips ravage yours and you crawl into his lap across the way. He leans his seat back, pleased with the steamy development, and his hands go from caressing your face to traveling down your back and finally down to grope the plump of your backside. You whimper, but continue the lip lock. Your tongue experimentally traces his bottom lip and he groans, opening up for you to explore him again. He’s rutting his hips up, it isn’t serious by any means he had no actual desire to take it any further than that. You grind down on him, your movement turning sloppy. Before things can blossom into anything else, you pull away, a string of saliva snapping between the both of you. His hands are still on your ass, and yours are in his hair. He’s flushed, panting, and you can’t help but kiss him again. Your neediness makes him laugh but reciprocates all the same. He was so messy but the way he handled you was absolute perfection. You break apart, finally, and you look behind you to make sure no one else is around. Paranoid your family might see you.

 “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You finally say, departing from his warmth painfully. You leave then, closing his car door gently as you do. You look behind you and wave, he’s smiling while resting his chin on his toned arms.. They’re folded over his steering wheel while he watches you go inside. He waves back, a little shake of his wrist and you finally disappear into the warmth of your home. The walk of shame (at a less than appropriate hour) was surprisingly not as bad as it could have been. No one is up to catch you other than your mother in the kitchen, she’d gotten up for a midnight snack and met you while you were putting the dishes in the sink. They’d be tomorrow's problem. 

 “How was it dear?” She asks gently, sliding a glass of hot chocolate your way.

 “Good, we watched some Christmas specials over dinner and talked for a bit.” you know that it shouldn’t have taken you this long to get back, and she knows that too, but she smiles and nods along.

 “That sounds wonderful, we’ll invite him over next time.”

 “How about tomorrow?”

 “I’m sure he’d love that.” You smile back at her, you would love that too. You sip your cocoa until it’s gone, chatting with your mother about unimportant things. She retires before you do, and you quietly make your way up to your room. Your creaking footsteps cause you to cringe, and as soon as you’re twisting the doorknob your friend jumps up from her spot on your bed.

 “Fucking finally, oh my god tell me everything!”

a/n: erm would y'all let gojo go down on u the first day u met him?

◼️yes

◼️definitely

◼️absolutely

i scattered different references to a few christmas songs so i hope y’all catch em :3 merry xmas and happy holidays hope y'all enjoyed ~🐇🎄❄️

header by @strangergraphics 🖤

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

Got a weird little chapter where the perspective shifts from Megs to right back to Star. I swear dude, when i write these peeps I can't help but slip a bit of TFP into them. It was my first fave after all, and it often fills in some of the cracks for me. Oh and also a bit of Armada energy or a bit of other stuff from things i've heard/seen from comics and shit. Totally mish mash inspo admittedly.

[also side note: I don't necessarily ship op and meg, I mainly used the partner title as platonic and referencing that Megs doesn't rlly see him as his leader per say. I kinda like to keep the ship ambiguity much like the shows do tbh]

But yeh, first a short bit of Op and Megs talkin about our seeker creature. Then we see said creature fucking around with the chaos powers and getting into a bit of trouble. It ended up a lot more brutal than I initially outlined it i must admit-- but don't worry! After this insanity, the bots actually might realize how much of a non sustainable solution it is to keep Star in there.

Previous Chapter: An Unwanted Sequel

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: The Illusion of Freedom

Chapter 7: A Broken Boogeyman

“I just don’t know, Optimus.” 

Megatron leaned against the steel bars overseeing the cameras with crossed arms. He’d been loitering in silence for quite some time as he observed Ori–Optimus, type away at the databanks. Prowl and him had been working rather constantly in the effort to locate the ship the Decepticons had stolen. But Megatron had asked him to relocate his efforts to this access point to their system, so that they could keep an eye on Starscream.

“About what?” His old friend finally inquired. The mech surely knew of what he spoke, yet was merely prodding him to further explain his thoughts.

“Starscream.” Megatron gestured towards the caged seeker on the screen, even if Optimus wasn’t looking at him. His former second was just pacing as he so often did, but he also seemed to be intentionally calling upon that unstable power Megatron had seen him carry. “His recent behavior bothers me.”

“That so?” Optimus removed his servos from the keys and turned to face him as a show of his attention. “What about it concerns you?”

Megatron stared at the monitor a moment before sighing and refocusing his gaze upon Optimus. “The aggression. It is less like him to lash out in the way I’ve witnessed as of late. When it comes to his anger, I've known him to often be more… snide, than explosive. Do you suppose it has to do with the corrupted Emberstone incident?” A rather vague question, yet he knew his partner would understand the full scope of its implications. 

“I suppose,” Optimus followed Megatron’s previous gaze to the smaller corner of the large board of screens displaying the seeker for a moment. Of whom looked to be rambling about something, and punching the wall in a little tantrum. “It is rather odd. Even so, should it not bring you comfort that he is within our custody? He poses no threat from here. Or is it perhaps a more personal matter to you, Megatron? Did the conversation you two shared not go well?”

“It went as well as it could. We have…never been quite good at…talking.” Megatron tapped a finger against his plating in thought. Starscream had always held a particular seat in his mind through the years. He kept him on his toes, even when Megatron hadn’t wanted him to. “I know it seems like he is secure at the moment,” He continued, “yet I cannot help but question how long it will be until he manages to escape and continue on with his questionable goals. I had tried to determine what his next move could be, but he still eludes me with his backwards talk.”

Optimus hummed and slowly began to resume his typing, now only half focusing on his work. “Would perhaps, upping security ease your mind old friend?” 

“Perhaps…” Megatron contemplates this offer. What more security could be implemented? It seemed useless to station someone outside Starscream’s cell to just sit there when they could be useful elsewhere, especially when they already have eyes on him from here. Plus, he could just use someone’s presence as an opportunity to trick them somehow. Obviously then, Megatron would be the best suited for such a station, but that was not going to happen. Prowl would likely not trust him for the task. They may have gotten on slightly friendlier terms, but one act in battle could not wash away centuries. Well…that statement could be debated on circumstance, he supposed. But that was a worn out topic in his processor.

“Regardless, I can assure you, that even if he does somehow escape as he did before; we will be notified immediately.” Optimus’ antennae tipped back only slightly, in a way that informed of the ridiculous smirk the mech no doubt brought to his faceplate. “You should not worry so much! Maybe all you need is a walk in the sun. That is what the humans say is a cure-all for a dower mood! We have been stuck in this stuffy rock for quite some time, after all.”

Megatron chuckled, “If you are going to try and send me off on some frivolous nature stroll, then I will be forced to drag your workaholic aft out there with me!” He removed himself from the steel ledge guards and made his way by Optimus’ side to punch his shoulder. “You need it just as much as I.”

Optimus rolled his eyes and glared with a fond grin at the playful threat. “That may be so, but my responsibilities as leader would not allow me such things at this time.”

“Preposterous! Shoulder the load to someone else. You cannot rust in here while insisting I take leave.” Megatron put his hands on his hips like he was talking to a sparkling. Which his old friend very well could be sometimes.

“I will not simply pass my burdens upon my comrades for my own pleasure, thank you.”

Megatron groaned, “Oh don’t phrase it like that.” 

Optimus sighed and brushed Megatron out of the way to reach a different conduit. “It is accurate. Now unless you intend on assisting me with my work, you should decompress elsewhere for the time being.”

Megatron’s posture drooped slightly as he watched his partner continue on in his mission. The fool was always so focused on others. Putting so much pressure on his plate alone like he was the soul force that kept the planets aligned. Sure, he occasionally relied on others quite well. But in these past years of working alongside his partner, Megatron had seen just how absurdly stubborn the mech could be.

He knew the Prime would want him to simply heed his word and not pry further, as per their conversation about Megatron’s tendency to question him perhaps a bit too often. Even so, this was different. A matter of a concerned compatriot enforcing a bit of necessary self-care. Whether the mech would be mad at him or not was an irrelevant notion, and could even be quite amusing.

So Megatron began to extend a hand to take the Matrix driven mech’s arm, “Come now Optimus–”

When suddenly, the alarm blared obnoxiously through the base. Megatron’s helm immediately shot to the monitor to see a cell filled with nothing but a bit of ash and a barrier littered with chaotic sparks.

Starscream was gone.

***

Starscream paced back and forth across his prison in a rather short path. An intentional stride, as he found that the less distance he allowed himself to travel, the more it lent to instead increasing the tension within him. That was what he needed. Calm wasn’t going to get him out of here. 

Frag having a cool head. Any rational plan would just come back to blow up in his face. No, they’d expect that classic, clever, scheming Starscream. They’d surely predict any little uselessly intricate plan he could concoct, and crush it, if his own Primus damned processor didn’t accomplish that first. 

Red lightning was steadily increasing in intensity across his frame. Good.

No one had visited him after his horribly done exchange with Hashtag, and that had left him with plenty of time to focus on finally getting a better handle on Quitus’ curse. It thrived off of anger, spite, and destructive thoughts. Starscream had that in spades! If it wanted him to disintegrate the structure housing them, or crush the mechs caging him into sniveling lumps of slag, it was about time it helped him do it. 

“You will do as I command or so help me Quintus–” Starscream hissed at the crimson air as he flexed his shaking servos.

“Planning on showing the world just how dangerous you truly are, Transformer?” Mandroid was right by his peds with his absolutely revolting amalgamation of parts and flesh before him. “Prove me right.” The wretched pest had such a mad grin on its squishy faceplate and a taunting tone that made him sick. Making the power surge in his spark. 

Starscream yelled in a rather embarrassingly feral manner as he launched a fist down upon its helm–head–whatever the damn human had! Even with his new found speed and electrified assault power under his control, the illusion managed to escape into whatever Pit it had spawned from. All with an infuriating laugh. He thrusted a fist into the wall to test his strength against it, before turning to survey the little space he aimed to destroy.

“I will never take orders from a human.” Starscream growled at the phantom. “I will use this power because I need to. What I will prove, is just how capable I am no matter what these fragging fools throw at me!” He began to laugh. “They think… They think they can cage me like an animal. That they can just mock me, and leave me to rust away out of sight from whatever pathetic fantasy they think they’ve created for themselves out there?! They think they can leave me behind as they praise the oh so beloved LORD Megatron– DO THEY? She thinks I am WORSE than HIM, does she? Oh… but I can be so much better…”

The power shot through his frame and out from his peds, causing him to yell in surprise from the sudden shock. He panted unevenly on his knees as his wings shook painfully, pulling a servo to his helm to grip the edge of his optic. No… he couldn’t focus on revenge right now. He just needed to get out. 

“Mm… Regardless…” He dragged his impaired frame from the floor with an addled voice box, slouching far much more than he would like. He felt heavy. He hated it. But it was a necessary evil to lean into this curse’s power. 

Starscream made his way over to the barrier that led into the corridor, and directed the lightning to collect at his servos and shoot into its target. It rapidly spread across the surface which rippled and strained to keep its shape. His spark ached as he forced it out, and finally, the barrier sputtered and shrunk away into pathetic wisps. The controls were sparking wildly and exploded into a stream of smoke. 

He hesitated in the doorway for a nano klick before a siren shrieked through his audials, causing him to yelp and spring into action. His peds automatically tracked the same path they had taken the last time he’d broken out. He wasn’t thinking about whether it’d be predictable. Whether they’d be waiting for him. Or if the exit he had closed off would actually be open again. He was just running. 

And this time, as soon as the force fields began closing behind him, he immediately transformed and blasted through the tunnel. Starscream’s engines shot red as the lightning flickered off his frame. He was going so fast that if he weren’t the exceedingly skilled flier he was, he’d have eaten metal by now. But of course he naturally dodged around every corner and eventually–

No. He needed a missile to destroy the door. But he hadn’t had the time to locate his confiscated weaponry. 

Starscream transformed mid-air to launch himself into the door in a super powered kick. Only a sizable, useless dent resulted. He looked at it in disbelief then turned to survey his surroundings wildly. There had to be another way. He dashed around the closed off room at a blinding speed. There was no other exit that wasn’t already blocked.

“SCRAP! NO NO NO ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Starscream desperately shot streams of lightning at the door. Punched and kicked as hard as he could–and it was starting to work! He just needed to focus on the bent seam… But he heard a crowd of noisy pedsteps rapidly approaching his position. They were barking some strings of orders to each other or perhaps at him, but he didn’t care to make out what any of it was. He just needed to–

Suddenly, the space between his wings was burning in an all too familiar way, and his front was thrusted into the uneven wall. Time was up. It couldn’t end this way so easily. There was no way he wouldn’t go down without a fight now. Starscream quickly stumbled to his peds and turned to immediately blast a stream of crimson lightning from his servo. 

The group of bots scattered in surprise, with one blasted mech attempting ridiculously to call out his designation.

“Stop this now, Starscream! You know you are outnumbered!” Megatron was once again so desperately trying to control him. Acting like he knew his limits of what he could and couldn’t do. 

“SHUT UP!” He screamed as he threw continuous follies of the curse’s power at his assailants. “I will not allow you to have the pleasure of taking me alive today to be smelted under your petty gaze! Either I am getting out of here, OR NOBODY IS!” Maybe Starscream could draw their fire at the door behind him, or maybe he could simply disintegrate them all here and now and seize the base for himself. Both flickering visions in his processor paired with all the ways he could leave them as smoldering piles of ash. The siren still wouldn’t cease its incessant whining. 

The surrounding mechs became scattered, and he rapidly made certain to dodge every shot sent his way paired with an equal retaliation. He’d get some shots off, but they were still closing in. He finally managed to get the pink one to stay down, leaving the red femme to see to her companion like a weak fool. Starscream attempted to shoot the pair to finish them off, but was blocked by that slagger Prime with his stupid axe. 

There was still Megatron lurking in his hazed vision, and he redirected his fire toward the bucket head. Yet something bothered him about the roster he saw around him. Where was that blasted bot Prowler? Why wasn’t he here with them? Bumblebee’s absence could be excused, but that tactician’s was far too precarious. Were they planning something?

Suddenly, Megatron and the others slinked a peculiar amount of steps from his position. Something was happening. 

Blasters retracted from the ceilings and began raining relentless fire upon him. He frantically dodged what he could, but was surprised by the unexpected direction, resulting in a hole to be scorched through his wing before he could decommission the blasters. While he was distracted, the Prime attempted to rush him, but he was all too obvious and Starscream dived out of the way with the intent of a counter attack. Apparently, that was what they wanted, because then he found Megatron’s monstrous chassis slamming into him. 

“GET OFF OF ME!” Starscream demanded as he struggled for control. 

“Not until you surrender!” Megatron was insane! The longer he remained in contact with Starscream’s corrupted frame, he was easily in the line of fire to become overcome from helm to ped with the electricity. But he wouldn’t let go. Starscream could hardly move.

“Never.” Starscream growled lowly through his absurdly rapid vents, of which were absolutely useless in cooling the heat burning his spark and processor. He kicked and pulled in practically any effort he could to gain some leverage. Yet right when he had finally freed a servo to try and deck Megatron in the faceplate, of course the Prime had to step in and force Starscream’s servo back to the ground with his axe. A flash of amusement flitted through him at how the reckless leader of the Autobots was less willing to touch him than the ever self-perseverating former warlord.

“It’s over, Starscream. Stand down.” Megatron growled through gritted dentas, and crushed Starscream’s ped as a nice little punctuation to his order. 

Starscream refused to give the silver brute the scream or pleas of mercy he no doubt sought from the action. All the same, he felt like he was about to explode. The power wracking his frame was starting to take its toll. The world was spinning, and the more he continued to struggle, the more desperately he felt the need to be anywhere but in this moment. Well, perhaps not anywhere. Surely he could think of many worse things–scrap that was a bad direction to take that thought. 

The siren warped into a wretched ringing that swirled in his helm. His optics were glitching so harshly that he could barely make out pixels beyond mere silhouettes, and the lights glared painfully. He could feel his vocalizer saying something to his captors, and he could faintly recognize that they were responding. But what were they saying? He didn’t want this power anymore. It hadn’t helped him. It never did. 

“W– tranq–quickly!”

What?

Starscream tried to look at what they were doing as he pushed against Megatron’s servo. It was a needle. They were getting closer. 

He panicked and flailed to the point that he twisted his stabilizing servo out of its socket to allow his upper half the opportunity to slip out from under the mech for even just a moment. But it didn’t matter. He was pinned again and they stuck him with whatever it was.

Of which, rapidly started making every circuit in his frame feel disgustingly limp.

He desperately fought to stay conscious. But just like everything in his life. It was useless.

[fizzie-frog]

Blitzø: core self, trauma and healing

This will be a post going into Blitz’s character starting from his childhood to present. His teen self, his adult self and the present. As someone who relates so much to him, his arc was amazing to watch and went from a character I kinda disliked to a character I absolutely love today.

I apologize if this is all over the place - I don’t write long posts everyday and in the last years I’ve been so busy, tired and just unmotivated that it’s almost like my brain can’t cooperate, but I wanted to make this post.

Also, of course, this will be long… So if you want to read - under the cut. This will be split into parts (thanks to Tumblr's limitations).

PART TWO

In the latest episode we’ve seen Blitz being so much more supportive, patient - Stolas’s cheerleader. It feels like he’s returning to his roots. Let me explain…

“I think… I think if anyone’s gonna be the new clown face on everything… It’ll be you, Fizz!”

Clearly, this is a trait Blitz (back then going by Blitzo) always had at his core. He loved his dear ones and he showed it. He encouraged them, supported them in their dreams and also made sure they’re safe, as it shows with Fizzarolli in his teens. Growing up in Greed (arguably one of the most dangerous rings of Hell), Blitz had to toughen up. Fizz on the other hand had no clue how to fight and he was anxious.

So, Blitz was the protector.

When he sees Fizz made uncomfortable by a creepy fan, he’s quick to jump in.

He makes sure Fizz is safe, pushes the creep away and goes right back to his so-called “cheerleader self”. Fizz is made to feel insecure by the cruel words spat at him, so Blitz supports him, telling him he is in fact good enough and not to listen to the words of some idiot.

It’s all so natural for Blitz. This was him at his core. And while I’m sure growing up in Greed does a number on someone no matter what, he still had some innocence within him before everything went wrong.

Let’s see more of his childhood.

Blitz was a circus performer, much like Fizz. He was the ringleader’s son, but he was definitely not the star of the show. We’re not shown much of his circus performance, but as storytelling goes, this scene serves to tell us that he wasn’t quite the fan favorite…

Despite this, he pushed on. Even when he felt discouraged, he had drive (and that drive pushed him to achieve what he has today). Born in a discriminatory world where he’s the bottom of the barrel, drive and perseveration are his biggest qualities.

He clearly saw the discrepancy between him and Fizz. His best friend and crush, he was the fan favorite and Blitz’s own dad favoured him over his own son. And Fizz is incredibly talented, that’s why he made it so big (even with the help of deadly sins, he couldn’t have been liked if he just wasn’t good enough), but that didn’t make Cash’s treatment of them better.

I doubt Cash was all that good towards Fizz either, just that he abused him in different ways than Blitz, but that’s for another story.

Despite this, he was still in good spirits with Fizz. His dad’s treatment of them didn’t make Blitz wanna do bad things to Fizzarolli. He loved him as his best friend and I think it shows that Blitz could separate the two.

Even if he did end up hurting Fizz in an emotional moment… In a complete, tragic accident where everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It wasn’t Blitz’s fault, but he caused it.

Of course though, the situation is much more complicated than that. The tent was flammable, there were lit candles being brought inside and also fireworks stored inside. It was a recipe for disaster. But Blitz, in an emotional moment, didn’t stop to look around himself or think before pushing the first person in front of him.

Feelings of inadequacy, I assume, both to be more to Fizz and also to be his dad’s son. Someone like Fizz couldn’t love him. And also, his dad loved Fizz more than him (or rather his potential). He is useless, he’ll never amount to it. Not to Fizz’s love, not to his dad’s love.

Who really knows what happened in Blitz’s head in that moment, but it was a mix of very bad emotions and his insecurities slowly became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

But before we go into the fateful day that changed his life completely, let’s talk a bit more about him in the past.

Even though his dad has always been a neglectful, bad parent (as far as we’ve seen), Blitz was a bit of a rebel even from a young age. He held his ground as much as someone his age could, questioned his dad and despite his difference in treatment, Cash knew he could count on Blitz to do the heist mission he’s put him up to.

Blitz was scared. Of course, he was a child. But he wanted to help his dad, and especially his mom. Cash clearly knew it and used it to manipulate him into doing it.

We don’t know much about his mom, but she was shown as someone that Blitz clearly loved. And Blitz does anything for the people he loves.

So… He agreed to it - he would go to prince Stolas’s place and steal off him. Even from a young age, he’s been set up to dangerous missions, cause if Blitz was clumsier or more obvious or he was caught in any way, it could’ve been horrible for him. Cash probably knew that, but still decided it was worth risking his son. (When I catch you, Cash…)

As soon as he got to his place, we’ve seen even more of his core. He is smart and inventive (granted, Stolas was also pretty sheltered and didn’t know much). He came up with a way to steal right in front of the prince and get away with it.

And he’s always had big dreams. He will have his own business, a big office, horses with good name, he will be a good boss… Despite his circumstances, he had an image of what he wanted to be.

So how could we describe Blitz at his core? I would use the following:

Brave

Rebellious

Smart

Determined

Kind

Playful

Supportive

Protective

The “cheerleader” of his loved ones

But also impulsive, which was his downfall that day and continued to be after.

This is Blitz at his core, before everything went wrong and trauma started to plague his inner self.

The day everything went wrong.

(Btw; not all hellfire is green. The fire is green cause they’re in Greed.)

His impulsivity got the better of him - in his distress, he pushed someone over holding a cake with lit up candles. Fire hazards aside, it was definitely a domino effect and it happened right on Fizz’s birthday.

Blitz himself was injured in this accident and in that moment, he had to make a decision… He was gonna save Fizz that was crawling in agony right in front of him, or save his mother.

(Side note: So, did Blitz actually see Fizz crawling up to him? Cause there was a thought that he just managed not to see him, but in Ghostfuckers we can see Fizz from his perspective. So I’m going with that it was a split decision he had to make.)

That proved to be yet another unfortunate decision in the chain of tragedy, cause he made his choice, abandoning Fizz right in front of him to run over to help his mother… Who, ultimately, didn’t survive. Fizz did, and they ended up not speaking for 15 (!!) years.

After the tragedy, his pos of a dad struck his freshly burnt son (!!) and forbid him from seeing his best friend, telling him he didn’t wanna see him (what he’d find later that it was a complete lie).

That resulted in a pointless grudge that lasted for 15 years. There is the question of why Blitz didn’t try to contact him after his hospital say, but there could be so many reasons. Further external interference, the inability to (after all, he was abandoned with nothing and injured), Fizz being unreachable, etc. But that could’ve been prevented if Cash just allowed Blitz to see Fizz in the hospital.

So what were the consequences?

His dad hates him. (Trash took itself out imo)

His sister hates him.

His best friend hates him.

He has no home. No money. No family, no friends. He’s all on his own, and it was all his doing - accident or not. That would be hard on anyone.

What was he up to after that? Well…

We know he worked at Loo Loo Land for a while before he gave up performing altogether. He wasn’t happy, and being in the presence of a robotic replica of his now famous former best friend (that he burnt alive and disabled by accident) certainly couldn’t be a fun time.

And clearly he’s got a few issues with performing knowing his performance during those days and in the circus…

“I can’t do this, not again; I haven’t performed since…”

We know somewhere during his time he dated Verosika Mayday, whom she left and maxed out her credit card on shitty horse riding lessons, supposedly after she told Blitz she loves him.

He adopted Loona…

Seeing Loona in that shelter, Blitz saw himself. He saw himself and the love he never got and decided he was gonna give her that love. He was gonna be the dad he never had. A life changed without even realizing, too plagued by his trauma - he couldn’t see the good things he’s done.

“Oh, her? That’s just Loona… What a nightmare; serious attitude problems. She’ll be out of our hair next month when she ages out… Good riddance if you ask me, she’ll never amount to anything much.”

That might as well be said about Blitz, cause that’s how he feels about himself. Like a disaster, like he brings misfortune to everyone else. He chose to take on that tough job, the job to house and care for a daughter with “serious attitude problems” that show in their day to day. She lashes out, she is mean, she is avoidant, but he never holds it against her. Just like he needed someone to support him when he was all alone. He doesn’t even have his own bedroom, taking the couch while giving Loona the only bedroom available.

He sneaked into the place of the prince he once stole from and got his book, knowing it'd help his plan (thus starting the full moon deal)...

He made his own business, something imps don’t do. He made it. He hired Moxxie;

Changing another life.

He hired Millie;

Changing yet another life.

Yet he still couldn’t help think that everyone hated him and that he deserved it. Nobody really cares, it all amounts to his usefulness. Why would anyone love him? Why him?

Unhealthy beliefs hid his core self:

He’s unloveable

He brings tragedy to anyone he gets close to

You’re only as wanted as you are needed

Emotions complicate things and nobody cares anyway

He has never done a good thing in his life

He will die alone

He deserves it ^

PART TWO HERE (due to Tumblr limitations... Sorry)

[jrob64]

Drummer Boys, Reindeer and Romance

My Secret Santa gift for @mie779

Merry Christmas @mie779 - I'm your Secret Santa this year! I was very excited to get your name and I hope you like the story and pic set I created for you. I tried to work in some of your favorite things. Hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Many thanks to @hookedmom who took time out from a busy holiday season to beta for me.

With this story, I can cross off one square on my Winter Bingo Board. Stories in that collection can be found here

Story Summary: An empty seat at an elementary school Christmas pageant creates an opportunity for Killian Jones to meet Emma Swan. As they chat between songs, they feel drawn to each other, but Killian has to be brave enough to ask Emma out…and she has to be brave enough to accept. 

Rating: G

Words (Chapter 1/1): 5899

Can also be found on Ao3 and ffn

Stories in the CS Secret Santa 2024 collection can be found here

Story begins under the cut

*********

“Pardon me, lass. Is that seat taken?”

Emma Swan looked up from the program she had been scanning, to see a man standing in the aisle of the auditorium, looking at her expectantly.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I was wondering if you were saving the seat beside you for someone.”

She glanced at the empty seat to her left. “Uh, no. I’m not saving it for anyone.”

After an awkward pause, he asked, “In that case, would you mind if I sit there?”

“Oh, sorry.” She stood up, letting him pass in front of her.

When they were settled in their seats, he said, “Thanks very much.” Holding out his hand, he added, “Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan,” she responded, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I don’t think I’ve seen you around Storybrooke before.”

“I live in Portland. I visit from time to time, and stay at my brother Liam’s house when I do. I’m here to watch his and Elsa’s daughters. They’re the two cutest reindeer.”

“Missy and Alice are your nieces? They’re in my son Henry’s class. In fact, I think he has a crush on one of them.”

“Which one?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. They both look alike to me.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “that’s quite common with identical twins.”

She laughed. “You have a point there.”

“Is your son also a reindeer?”

“I wish,” she sighed. “Reindeer are quiet. My son is the little drummer boy. My friend is the music teacher and I’m pretty sure she cast him in that role intentionallly. Her husband has been dying to buy Henry a drum set ever since he was a toddler, but I keep telling him absolutely not. Of course, once my son got the part, he had to practice, so Mary Margaret sent a snare drum home with him. I can hardly wait until this program is over, so I can get that freaking thing out of my house. I love my kid, but he’s driving me crazy with it!”

Killian’s grin stretched wider across his handsome face. “Well, I can assure you that reindeer are not quiet. At least, not in Alice and Missy’s case.”

“I’m sure having two ten-year-olds in the house can be very loud. I only have one and sometimes I swear he’s trying to split my eardrums.”

“With his drum,” Killian smirked.

“You’re hilarious,” Emma groaned sarcastically, rolling her eyes. However, she couldn’t help grinning a little at his attempt to make a joke.

“Are you, uh, are you sure I’m not taking…anyone’s seat?” he asked tentatively.

“If you’re talking about Henry’s father, he won’t be coming. He lives in New York City with his other family. Henry only gets to see him a couple of times a year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. The less time Henry spends with his dad, the smaller the chance Henry will act like him. After six years, he’s used to taking a back seat to Neal’s other kids.”

She opened the paper she was holding again, scanning the information typed inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Killian leaning in slightly to have a look at it, too.

“Didn’t they give you a program at the door?” she asked.

“They were out by the time I got here. I left work as soon as I could, but barely made it. Liam and Elsa weren’t expecting me to come tonight, so they didn’t save a seat for me.”

Emma swiped across her phone to look at the time. “They’re getting started a few minutes late. That’s typical for Mary Margaret because she wants everything to be perfect. She’s probably still gluing cotton balls onto Santa’s beard.” Scooting over in her seat a couple of inches, she held the program between them. “I’ll share with you. Looks like Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer is the next-to-last song.”

Killian perused the offered page. “Your drummer boy looks to be the star of the third song.”

“Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum,” she intoned. He chuckled.

The lights dimmed and Mary Margaret hurried onto the stage as the crowd applauded.

“Show time,” Emma commented, then straightened in her seat to listen as her friend welcomed everyone.

*********

Killian shifted in the cushioned chair and tried to focus on what the lovely, pixie-haired teacher was saying. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to pay attention; rather, it was the distraction of the beautiful woman to his right which was occupying his mind. Through no fault of her own, she was making it very difficult for him to concentrate on the acknowledgements of all of the people responsible for helping with the elementary school Christmas pageant.

When she looked up at him after he inquired about the empty seat beside her, he was instantly struck by her beauty. It had been a long time since he gave any woman a second glance. Having his heart broken three years before caused him to swear off of women for good, and he stuck to it.

He may have to rethink that.

Being intrigued by her looks was one thing, but when she began conversing with him, he was struck by how easy it was to talk to her. She was witty and sarcastic, and put him at ease immediately.

When he verified that he wasn’t taking anyone’s seat, it was also his subtle way of asking if she was in a relationship. He had discreetly checked her ring finger and saw it was bare, but wanted further assurance. He was probably assuming too much by thinking her answer about her ex was proof she was indeed single, because she could be dating someone else. But if she was, that man would surely show up to her son’s Christmas pageant, wouldn’t he?

As crazy as it sounded, after knowing her for all of five minutes, Killian was seriously thinking of asking her out.

*********

Emma could feel the nearness of the man beside her and, shockingly enough, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, she actually found herself leaning toward him.

Her friend Elsa mentioned her brother-in-law to Emma several times, but she had never met him or seen a picture of him. If she had, she definitely would have remembered, because the man was ridiculously handsome. She probably seemed like an idiot when he asked about the empty seat beside her and she didn’t tell him he could sit there right away. She was simply gobsmacked when she looked up at him and had trouble getting her mind to work.

Fortunately, once he sat down, words were easier and the conversation she had with him was very enjoyable. She found herself wishing he had gotten there sooner, so they could have had more time to chat before the pageant began. It had been quite a while since she actually wanted more time to talk to a man. Usually, she wanted them to shut up and leave her alone.

Finding someone to date in Storybrooke was not an easy feat. Not that she put much effort into it. After what she went through with Neal, she swore off dating altogether. He not only broke her heart by leaving her for another woman, he told her he never loved her in the first place and the only reason he stayed with her as long as he did was because she was careless enough to get pregnant. He didn’t seem to realize that he had a little something to do with her ending up in that condition, too. She didn’t regret it, though. Henry was the best thing that ever happened to her. She had been telling herself for years that she loved her kid and he was the only male she needed in her life.

How absurd was it for her to want a chance to get better acquainted with Killian Jones so soon after meeting him?

*********

Killian’s whirlpool of thoughts was interrupted when music began playing and the third and fourth grade students trooped onto the stage to stand on the risers, all of them dressed in homemade costumes for their various roles.

Leaning over, he quietly asked, “Which one is Henry?”

Emma pointed. “The one with the jeans chopped off at the knees, white shirt and a vest made out of a cut up paper bag. Real professional, huh? He reminded me last night that he needed a costume, so it’s the best I could do.”

“I think it’s very effective. He’s supposed to be a poor boy, right?”

They fell silent when a little girl dressed as Mrs. Claus stepped to the microphone to introduce the first song. As Killian tried to lay his elbow on the arm rest, he bumped Emma’s, which was already there.

“Sorry, Love,” he whispered, tucking his arm against his side.

“We can share,” she whispered back, scooting her arm over to give him some room. Under normal circumstances, he would have passed on the offer, but he quite liked how it felt to touch her. Once their elbows were both on the arm rest, he turned his attention back to the stage, where the students dressed as elves were lining up to lead the song Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas, while Mary Margaret was taking her seat behind the piano.

“You were right,” Emma muttered. “Your nieces are the cutest reindeer.”

“Of course they are. They take after their uncle,” he cheeked.

Mary Margaret launched into the accompaniment before Emma could reply.

Frosty the Snowman followed, with students dressed as snow people spinning and dancing on the stage. One snowman twirled himself dizzy and almost fell off of the stage. Luckily, David was quick on his feet, catching the little boy and preventing disaster.

“I can guarantee I’ll hear about what a hero he was for days from Mary Margaret,” Emma remarked as they clapped at the end of the song.

“Your boy is up next,” Killian reminded her.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, scrambling to pull her phone out of her purse.

“Would you like me to take the video so you can sit back and enjoy his performance?”

She looked at him. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. It would be my pleasure.”

Emma quickly unlocked her phone, pulled up the camera app and set it to video. “You know how to do this, right?”

He chuckled as he took it from her hands. “Don’t worry, Swan. I’m a twenty-first century man, so I do know a fair amount about technology.”

Henry took his place behind the snare drum and smiled widely at his mom. However, once the song started, he was all business, taking his drum solo very seriously. After filming the entire group of students during the first verse, Killian zoomed in on Henry for the rest of the song, capturing his solemn expression as he struck the drum in perfect rhythm.

At the conclusion of the song, Killian turned the phone toward Emma, who was clapping loudly and shouting, “Way to go, kid!” Through the lens, Killian could see the sheen of proud tears in her eyes. He didn’t stop filming until she turned to him to get her device back.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad I could enjoy it without having to watch him through my phone screen.”

“No problem,” he assured her. “He did a wonderful job. He just might have a future as a drummer in a band.”

“I hope he’s out on his own by then if he does. I don’t think I could handle all of the practicing.”

Killian chuckled and settled back in his seat to enjoy the next two songs. When it was time for the reindeer to take their place at the front of the stage, he dug his own phone out of the front pocket of his jeans.

“Here, I’ll return the favor,” Emma said, reaching for the phone. “Enjoy your nieces’ performance.”

“Thanks, Love,” he said gratefully.

The song went well until one of the twins accidentally stepped on the other one’s foot, who then pushed the unwitting culprit. A short shoving match ensued between the two of them, until Mary Margaret snapped her fingers at them with one hand, while continuing to play the piano with the other.

Killian scanned the crowd to find his brother and sister-in-law. Liam was trying, and failing, to keep a grin off of his face, while Elsa scowled ferociously at her rowdy daughters.

The rest of the song went on without further incident. When Emma handed his phone back, Killian remarked, “I think the girls might be in for it after this is over.”

“Yeah, Elsa looks pretty peeved.”

“Do you know her?”

“We got to know each other through the PTO, and we’ve become pretty good friends.”

“PTO?” he questioned.

“Parent-teacher organization. We do fundraisers to give the school and staff extra things the district doesn’t provide. We also sponsor fun events for students and their parents, like skating parties and bingo nights.”

“It sounds very beneficial,” Killian commented.

Mary Margaret announced that the final song was Silent Night and after the students sang it through once, the audience was encouraged to join in.

The children, who had just sung Rudolph loudly and exuberantly, now sang the beloved carol with great reverence. A hush fell over the crowd as they listened to the sweet voices. Killian turned his eyes toward Emma and saw her swallow hard, clearly trying to keep her emotions in check. He was a little emotional himself and he didn’t even have a child on the stage.

Killian added his rich baritone the second time through. He could hear Emma’s voice and wasn’t at all surprised that it was as lovely as the lady herself.

As the final notes faded away, she turned to look at him. He smiled and winked, beginning to clap with the rest of the audience. When the ovation was over, she quickly collected her coat and purse. “I have to go get Henry from his classroom. I…it was nice meeting you, Killian. Maybe we’ll see each other the next time you come to town.”

He looked stunned. “Aye, Swan, perhaps we will.”

With a final wave, she was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

*********

As he watched her walk away, Killian felt like kicking himself. He just let her go, without asking her out or even requesting her phone number. He was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt the connection between the two of them, but now it was too late to act on it.

She did say she was Elsa’s friend, so perhaps he could get Emma’s information from his sister-in-law. That was less than ideal, but it might be his only option.

He sighed, grabbed his coat from the chair and set off to locate his family.

*********

Emma hated leaving the way she did, but she knew Henry would be waiting for her. Telling her son how proud she was of him, trumped hanging around to talk to Killian some more. She truly hoped she would run into him again, sometime.

She wished she would have been bold enough to ask him for his phone number. Of course, she could always get it from Elsa, but that would mean telling her friend she was interested in her brother-in-law. Emma didn’t really want to open that can of worms.

So as she fought her way through the crowd, disappointment rose up within her because she knew she was leaving behind the first guy who drew her interest in a very long time.

*********

“Where’s Elsa?” Killian asked, once he found Liam still occupying the seat he sat in during the performance.

“She went to get the girls. I offered, but she insisted. She may knock their heads together after their antics on stage.”

Killian laughed. “Never a dull moment with those two, is there?”

“Not a single one. Thanks for coming, brother,” Liam said, standing up to clap Killian on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I told Missy and Alice I would try to make it and I didn’t want to let them down.”

“You’re a good uncle.”

“The best,” Killian smirked. Then his face took on a serious expression. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“Uh…how well do you know…Emma Swan?”

Liam’s brows raised. “She and Elsa are good friends, so I know her pretty well. Why do you ask?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “I, um…I sat beside her this evening. I never met her before, but I…she…she seems very nice.”

Liam studied his brother for several moments. “Are you interested in her?” he queried.

His brother shrugged. “I just…we had a good conversation and I thought about…”

When he didn’t continue, Liam supplied, “Asking her out?”

Killian shrugged again. “I know. It’s a stupid idea. I mean, I just met her and we only talked for a few minutes, but…”

Liam stepped in front of him, placing both hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Killian, I know you had a rough go of it with Milah, but you can’t go through life never taking a chance again.”

“Emma probably wouldn’t accept…”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. She went to collect her son and then they’ll leave.”

“Then we’ll go find her before they do.”

“Liam…”

“Killian, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.”

Killian considered his brother’s words for a few seconds. “You’re right. Let’s go see if she’s still here.”

The pair took off through the nearly empty auditorium. Liam led Killian down one hallway, then nearly ran into Elsa and the girls when they turned the corner.

“There are my lovely ladies,” Liam said, kissing first one of his daughters on the head, then the other. “Good job, my little reindeer.” Seeing the stern look Elsa was giving him, he added, “But perhaps next time you shouldn’t stand right next to each other.”

“It was Missy’s fault,” Alice began, before being cut off by her mother.

“I’ve already talked to you about this,” Elsa reprimanded. “You were both at fault and tomorrow, you will both apologize to Mrs. Nolan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused. Then they rushed to get a hug from their uncle.

“You came!” Alice cried.

“Told you he would,” Missy said. “Uncle Killy would never let us down, would you?”

“I can’t promise that I never will, but I’ll try my very best not to,” he assured them, one arm wrapped around each twin.

Liam pulled Elsa aside. “Did you see Emma?” he asked.

“Yes, she was picking up Henry at the same time I was getting the girls,” his wife answered. “Why?”

Lowering his voice so their daughters wouldn’t hear, he said, “Killian sat beside her during the performance and they seemed to hit it off. He was hoping to catch her before she left and ask her out.”

Elsa’s expression went from very excited to downcast. “I’m afraid they’re gone already.”

Killian caught what she said and his heart sank. He knew he missed his chance when he let her walk away.

Elsa saw the look on her brother-in-law’s face. “Girls, hug your uncle and tell him goodbye. I’m sure he needs to start back to Portland soon.”

Missy and Alice took turns getting big bear hugs from Killian, then Liam bid him goodbye and took the girls to the car, clearly aware that his wife wanted to talk to his brother alone.

Killian gave Elsa a questioning look. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“Do you think Emma was attracted to you?”

He shrugged slightly. “I can’t say for sure, but we talked quite a bit and she seemed to like me.”

“The fact that she enjoyed talking to you leads me to believe she does. I love Emma, but she can be a bit prickly. I think you should ask her out.”

“Did you miss the part when you said she already left?”

“I’m going to give you her address, smart guy. Then you can go to her house.”

“Perhaps you should just give me her phone number instead.”

“You will not ask her out over the phone,” Elsa commanded. “That’s too impersonal.”

Killian nodded. “I see your point.” Pulling out his phone, he brought up Google Maps and typed in the address Elsa read from her contacts list. “It’s only a five minute drive.”

“Yes it is, which gives you less time to change your mind.” She gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Now get going. Call us when you’re on the way home and let us know what happened.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting smartly. When she rolled her eyes at him, he grew serious. “Thank you, Elsa.”

“You’re welcome. Now go turn on your charm.”

*********

Ten minutes later, Killian pulled up in front of the small, unassuming house where the GPS led him. After cutting the engine, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, contemplating whether or not he should go through with his plan.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Liam: Remember what I told you. Don’t lose your nerve.

Killian shook his head and snorted out a laugh. Sometimes it was almost scary how well his brother knew him.

“The worst that can happen is she turns me down. I can survive that, right?” he muttered to himself. “Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt, threw open his car door and climbed out. Then he walked up the short sidewalk, lined with lighted plastic candy canes. After knocking on the front door, he nervously brushed one hand through his hair, then tugged at the bottom of his black leather jacket.

The door swung open and he found himself looking down at the little drummer boy, still dressed in his cut off jeans and white shirt, sans the paper bag vest. They looked at each other for a couple of seconds, then Henry turned and yelled, “Mom! Some guy is here!”

“Henry, what have I told you about answering the…” Emma’s words cut off suddenly when she came into view. “Killian?” she questioned disbelievingly.

“Uh, hi. I, um…I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” he stammered.

She looked flabbergasted. “How did you know where I live?”

“Elsa gave me your address. I hope that was okay.”

Henry looked back and forth between the two adults. “Do you mean Mrs. Jones? Alice’s mom?”

“And Missy’s,” Emma added distractedly.

“How do you know Mrs. Jones?” Henry asked.

“Killian’s brother Liam is Elsa’s husband,” Emma explained. “Henry, please go turn the burner off under the hot cocoa so it won’t burn.”

“If it’s ready, can I pour some…”

“Absolutely not. Do not touch the pan or anything else; just the knob for the burner.”

“But I…”

She put her arm around his shoulders. “After you turn off the stove, why don’t you go ahead and put your pajamas on. Just give me a couple of minutes to speak to Mr. Jones, okay?”

“You did a fine job on your drum solo tonight, lad,” Killian said.

Henry’s face brightened. “Do ya really think so?”

“Aye. You were the star of the show.”

A wide grin split the boy’s face. “Thanks! I practiced a lot!”

“Your mother told me you did. Practice makes perfect, they say.”

“I guess so. We can be in band next year and I want to play percussion.”

Killian snuck a glance at Emma, who closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. With difficulty, he kept from laughing, before answering, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

“At least one of us will,” Emma mumbled, before reminding Henry about turning off the stove.

“Bye, Mr. Jones. Merry Christmas!” Henry shouted on his way out of the room.

“Merry Christmas to you, lad.”

“So, um, not to sound rude, but why are you here?” Emma asked as soon as they were alone.

He tried not to fidget as he thought of what to say. “I…I really enjoyed talking to you this evening.”

“I enjoyed talking to you, too.”

Encouraged, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s good to hear. So, I was wondering if…if you would consider going out with me.”

“On a date?” she asked, brows shooting up.

“Aye, that’s the idea.”

“I can’t…”

Killian felt his stomach drop.

“...even remember the last time I went on a date.”

“Perhaps we should remedy that,” he suggested hopefully.

Emma pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it in contemplation. “I don’t know…”

“Go out with him, Mom!” Henry yelled from the kitchen.

“Really, kid?” Emma said, clearly exasperated.

Henry poked his head around the door frame. “I like him.”

“Weren’t you told to put your pajamas on?”

“I will. I just accidentally heard what Mr. Jones said.”

Emma crossed her arms and gave him a patented ‘mom look’. “Accidentally, huh?”

He shrugged. “I have good hearing.”

“Only when you want to have it,” she stated. “Now, go do as you were told.”

“Okay,” he sighed, trudging down the hallway to his room.

She turned back to Killian, dropping her arms to her sides. “Looks like you have my kid’s approval.”

He studied her for a few seconds. “What about you, Emma? Do I have your approval, too? Elsa said she would be happy to watch Henry for you if we go out.”

She hesitated, then lifted her chin decisively. “Yes, Killian. I would love to go out with you.”

*********

One year later…

Killian followed Emma down the aisle of the auditorium and grinned when he realized what seats she chose. After sitting down, he draped his arm around her shoulders and leaned over to murmur in her ear, “These seats seem familiar, Love.”

She snuggled against his side. “They’re very special, because this is where I met the love of my life.”

“What a coincidence,” he teased. “This is where I met mine, too.”

Elsa and Liam slid into the seats in front of them. “Hello, lovebirds,” Elsa grinned.

“Don’t encourage them,” Liam cautioned. “I already have to witness far too much PDA from those two.”

“You don’t have to watch, you know,” Killian said, lightly whacking the back of Liam’s head.

“Both of you behave,” Elsa said, as Emma giggled.

“Speaking of behaving,” Killian began, “do you think your daughters will make it through the concert without assaulting each other this year?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Liam said. “I caught Missy trying to hit her sister over the head with her flute the other day.”

“Be happy it wasn’t the other way around,” Emma commented. “Alice could do some serious damage with her saxophone.”

They were still laughing when the fifth grade band shuffled onto the stage in all their Christmas finery, instruments held proudly in front of them. Emma and Killian immediately spotted Henry taking his place behind the snare drum. He smiled and gave them a quick wave before picking up his drumsticks.

“He looks so grown up,” Emma said quietly.

“Your little drummer boy isn’t very little anymore,” Killian observed fondly. He and Henry had a very close relationship and he loved the boy as his own.

“A lot has changed in the past year,” she sighed happily.

“Aye, Love. It’s been phenomenal in every way.”

Mary Margaret, who also instructed the fifth grade band along with teaching elementary music, walked out onto the stage, preparing to introduce their first song.

Emma settled against Killian’s side to enjoy the concert. A year ago, sitting in these very seats, neither of them could ever have imagined what that first meeting would mean to them.

As the band began playing Jingle Bells, Killian pulled Emma a little closer. His chest swelled with pride watching Henry concentrating on his music, as he beat out the rhythm on the drum. This year, Emma hadn’t had to endure his incessant practicing alone, since Killian moved in with them just before Thanksgiving.

Emma saw Killian glancing at his watch once the third and final song ended. “Are you anxious to leave? You know we still have to sit through the sixth grade and junior high bands, don’t you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m aware. I was just trying to gauge what time it will be over.”

“I’d say the concert will last about an hour,” Liam threw over his shoulder.

Killian slumped a bit in his chair. Then he caught sight of Henry, who was sitting in a reserved section to their right with the rest of the fifth grade band. The boy beamed at him and gave him a thumbs up. Killian winked and returned his smile.

Last year, the evening of Henry’s concert ended with Killian asking Emma out on their first date. This year, he had a different question to ask when they got home, one for which Henry had already given his approval.

He hoped her answer would be the same as last year. If so, they would be sitting in these seats next year as husband and wife.

Kissing her temple, Killian impatiently waited for the sixth grade band to begin playing. He intertwined their fingers, imagining how her hand would look with the diamond engagement ring on it. When she turned her face up to look at him, love shining in her eyes, he knew the beauty of the diamond would pale in comparison to the lady wearing it.

*********

Liam’s estimate for the length of the concert was right on the nose. When they finally walked out of the auditorium, light snow was falling. The conversation in the car on the way home was warm and playful. Henry laughed about the sixth grade percussionist who dropped one of the cymbals in the middle of a song, and expressed his hope that when he got older, he would be the one to make the whip sound for Sleigh Ride.

“Lord, help us through seven more years of band,” Emma murmured under her breath, causing Killian to laugh, despite the nerves that were knotting his stomach.

As soon as they got home, Henry went into the kitchen to get the ingredients out for hot cocoa, dubbing it a tradition after the Christmas concert.

“Is it a tradition if this is only the second time we did it?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know,” Killian answered, “but I do know of another tradition that’s been around much longer.” He pointed at the top of the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

“When did you put mistletoe up there?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“This evening while you were getting dressed for the concert.”

“You’re very sneaky,” she said, leaning in until her lips were just a fraction of an inch away from his.

“And you love me for it,” he grinned.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed before kissing him.

“Pre-teen boy coming through,” Henry announced, squeezing past them. “I’m going to put my pajamas on. Please be done making out by the time I get back.”

Emma and Killian laughed into their kiss. “I think we’re scarring him for life,” he quipped.

“That’s what parents are for,” she replied.

Killian pulled back to look at her. “You consider me to be his parent?”

“You’re more of a father to him than Neal has ever been.”

He surged forward to kiss her again. When it finally ended, he asked, “Do you think Henry regards me that way, too?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Does what?” Henry asked, re-entering the room, now dressed in plaid Christmas pajamas.

“Do you think of Killian as one of your parents?” Emma asked.

“Well, duh,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Can we make hot chocolate now?”

Emma tried to give Killian a look that said I told you so, but he was gazing at Henry with a sense of wonder over the boy’s declaration.

Once the cocoa was gone and Henry was off to bed, Killian and Emma lay together on the sofa. The living room was lit only by the gas fireplace and the lights from the Christmas tree, while Christmas music played softly.

“This is nice,” she sighed.

He hummed in agreement, stroking his hand up and down her back. His thoughts were preoccupied with the perfect way to propose, so he almost missed what she said next.

“Marry me, Killian.”

His hand on her back stilled as his mind registered what she just said. “Wh-what?”

She pushed up on her elbows to look into his face. “Marry me.”

“Swan, you’re depriving me of a dashing proposal!” he protested.

She cocked her head, studying him. “Are you serious?”

He slid out from under her to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, reaching into the pocket of his sleep pants to retrieve the ring and holding it up for her to see.

Her eyes widened as she swung her feet down to the floor. “Oh. My. God. You really were going to propose, weren’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Since you asked me first, I’m pretty sure I know what your answer is going to be,” he chuckled.

“You still have to ask. That’s the rule.”

“Whose rule?”

“Mine. Now, let’s hear that dashing proposal.”

He grinned, then cleared his throat. “Emma, you and Henry have changed my life in every way possible. I never knew happiness like this even existed, let alone that it would happen to me. There aren’t enough words in this world to express how much I love you, but right now, there’s only one word I need to hear in response to this question - Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes when she opened her mouth to answer, but emotion clogged her throat, so she nodded emphatically and threw her arms around him. As he held her tight, kissing her and murmuring words of love, she finally found her voice. “Yes, Killian, I will marry you! I love you so much!”

She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Henry and I are very lucky to have you in our lives. I know I’m speaking for him too when I say we want you to be part of our family forever.” Framing his face with her hands, she leaned in to kiss him again.

“Do you want the ring?” he asked against her lips.

She giggled and sat back, extending her left hand to him. He slid the ring into place and kissed her knuckle above it.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed.

“You are perfect, my love.”

“Says the man who complains when I leave wet towels on the floor,” she teased.

“Well…nearly perfect,” he grinned.

She held her hand up to admire the ring, the lights of the Christmas tree making the diamond glitter. “We’re engaged,” she said, awestruck.

“Mmhmm. Who would have thought that a little drummer boy and two feuding reindeer would bring us together and give us a happy ending?”

Her eyes met his, laughter and love dancing in them. “Best night of my life, hands down. Until today,” she amended.

Kissing the tip of her nose, he whispered, “Happy Christmas, wife-to-be.”

“Merry Christmas, husband-to-be.”

He stood up and took her hand to help her to her feet. Then they went to their bedroom to share the best gift of all - the love they had for each other.

*********

My heartfelt wishes for all of you to have a blessed and memorable Christmas!

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones @cssecretsanta2020

[anakinstwinklebunny]

can someone please do a hayden fic or c.ai bot of what life is like during lockdown/pandemic 2020 or any year with him and it’s also the holidays?

it’s not an “out of box” idea when i’ve seen a lot of hayden x reader / hayden x writer bots on here and c.ai

please? 🥺🙏🏼

MISTLETOE..

The beginning of the quarantine with HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN was kind of crazy. At first, it was filled with fear for the future, for how it'd all end, how it'd last. Then, as weeks went by, it turned to trying new things (in bed), buying different toys, lingeries, etc. But now? It was just..boring. So thanks to God it was Christmas time and the scenery outside the window like inside the house changed.

Hayden shuffled into the room, still in his sweats and that one hoodie you’d been trying to steal for days, holding two mugs of hot cocoa. His curls were tousled since the early morning, and you've tried to take care of them, but he always managed to slip away. Large hands were holding Christmas cups filled to the brim with hot cocoa and double serving of whipped cream

“Alright,” he plopped down next to you on the couch with a sigh “what Christmas movie are we pretending to watch tonight?” He handed you your mug, fingers brushing against yours - such a simple thing, yet still making your heart flutter.

And again - the pandemic had been hard on everyone, but somehow, these moments with Hayden were easier to survive. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, but you’d found peace in the slow pace of it all-- cooking meals together, building LEGO sets at midnight, and dancing around the kitchen to Michael Bublé while you baked yet another batch of cookies you didn’t need.

He had this way of making even the worst days feel like the best ones.

Like the time he let you help him on the farm and eventually name all the sheep he had. Or when it was your birthday but you run out of the decorations so he used the toilet paper where he carefully wrote "happy birthday!" and wore the ugliest Christmas sweater you’d ever seen - the question was, from where he had bought it? Because you definitely didn't give him that.

Or the time you tried to teach him how to wrap presents..

It didn’t go well.

“This is why I just buy gift bags,” he’d muttered, staring hopelessly at the mangled piece of wrapping paper in his palms. You’d fumbled over laughing, watching how his handsome face was scrunched in so much confusion and tiredness of the whole wrapping paper thing

So tonight was no different. As the movie you pretended to watch played, you found yourself using him as your own teddy bear - arms wrapped around his waist, legs tangled over his lap, face nuzzled to his chest, breathing in his too-good-smelling cologne that often was enough to turn you on. His arm draped lazily over your shoulders, and every so often, he’d press a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring something sweet like, long fingers brushing over your hair

“C’mere, let me show you how photogenic we are,” he teased, pulling you onto his lap. He kissed your cheek right as the camera clicked, capturing the purest moment of laughter and love.

Later, you’d find yourselves in the kitchen, baking cookies.. again - your freezer will be full with sugar before the end of the year. Flour streaked his cheek, and he smirked when you pointed it out. “What?” he teased “You don’t like the rugged look?”

“You look ridiculous,” you giggled, but the way he kissed you--slow, gentle, like he had all the time in the world--made you blush like never before

Quarantine with Hayden wasn’t perfect. But it was yours, and that made it enough.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne

[ouiouibaguettt]

New Beginnings

wbb masterlist

Y/N -> your name. Italics -> text

9,6k words (this one was sleeping in my draft for too long)

______________________________________________________________________

The UConn Huskies women’s basketball team had just finished a grueling practice session, one of many in the lead-up to their upcoming games. The air was thick with exhaustion, but there was an undercurrent of excitement. It was the kind of energy that came from knowing they were a championship-caliber team, but also one that came with the pressure of maintaining their elite status.

Azzi Fudd, the team’s shining star, was doing her usual post-practice ritual of shooting free throws, her focus unwavering. Her teammates, including the newly arrived Y/N, were gathered near the locker room, cooling down. Y/N had transferred to UConn from another university, and while she had quickly become a key player, there was something about her that stood out to Azzi—something beyond her skills on the court.

As Y/N grabbed a water bottle, she caught sight of Azzi, still on the court. Something about the way she moved, the intensity with which she practiced, was mesmerizing. Y/N had always admired Azzi from afar, but now being on the same team as her was a dream come true—and one that was quickly becoming more complicated.

After the rest of the team had headed to the locker room, Y/N stayed behind, taking a few extra shots to clear her mind. It had been a tough practice, and her body ached. She didn’t notice Azzi walking up beside her until she heard her voice.

“You staying late too?” Azzi asked, her voice casual but with a knowing glint in her eye.

Y/N glanced up and smiled. “Yeah, just working out some kinks. Practice was intense today.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping closer. “Tell me about it. We’ve got to be sharp if we want to win it all this season.” She paused for a moment, eyeing Y/N. “But you’ve got the skills. I’ve seen your game; you’re gonna make a huge impact here.”

The compliment made Y/N’s heart race a little faster. She had watched Azzi on TV for years before they were teammates, so to hear praise from her felt surreal.

“Thanks” Y/N said, trying to keep her cool. “It’s still a lot to adjust to, but I’m ready.”

Azzi grinned, walking toward the free throw line and casually taking a shot. “You’ll get there. We all have to work harder if we want to be champions.”

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to join her. The two of them spent the next few minutes practicing free throws together, pushing each other to make every shot. They didn’t talk much; instead, they communicated in the unspoken language of teammates—pushing each other to be better, always.

A few days later, UConn had their first big game of the season. The energy in the arena was electric, the stands packed with fans. The competition was fierce, but Azzi and Y/N were in perfect sync, moving as one, anticipating each other’s plays. KK Arnold was on the court as well, making sharp passes, while Paige Bueckers moved fluidly, executing her usual dazzling plays. But despite the solid teamwork around her, Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Azzi.

Azzi’s focus on the court was undeniable. She was a force to be reckoned with, but there was a quiet intensity to her that drew Y/N in. And every now and then, when their eyes met across the court, there was an unspoken connection between them that neither could ignore.

As the game went on, the intensity mounted. UConn’s opponent was tough, but the Huskies’ skill, especially Azzi’s leadership and Y/N’s sharp shooting, began to turn the tide. With just minutes left in the game, the score was neck-and-neck.

KK Arnold brought the ball up the court, and Y/N found herself in position for a perfect shot. Azzi, who had been leading the charge, drew the defense in and passed the ball to Y/N, who drained a three-pointer. The crowd erupted into cheers as UConn took the lead.

Azzi was the first to rush over to Y/N, throwing an arm around her in a quick hug. “That’s what I’m talking about!” she shouted over the noise of the crowd, her face lighting up with pride.

Y/N smiled, her heart racing. “Thanks for the assist, Azzi. You made that play happen.”

Azzi shrugged, her eyes shining with excitement. “We make each other better.”

After the game, the team gathered in the locker room, the excitement of the win still buzzing in the air. The coaches were handing out praise, but it was clear that Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK were the stars of the game. Everyone was buzzing, but there was a certain warmth in the air as the team celebrated their success.

Y/N found herself standing next to Azzi, the two of them smiling and laughing about the game. The tension that had been building between them, from practice to the court, seemed to ease after the win.

“I knew you had it in you” Azzi said, nudging Y/N playfully with her shoulder.

Y/N laughed, glancing at Azzi, her heart fluttering. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Your assists were on point today.”

Azzi grinned, stepping a little closer. “Teamwork. That’s how we’re gonna win it all this season.”

Before Y/N could respond, Azzi reached out and pulled her into a quick, but intimate hug, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, feeling a rush of warmth flood through her. The quiet PDA was not for the cameras or the fans—it was a moment just between them.

“We’ve got this” Y/N whispered into Azzi’s ear, her heart racing.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes soft and sincere. “Yeah, we do.”

The team’s celebrations continued around them, but in that moment, it felt like everything was in perfect balance—basketball, friendship, and something more that neither of them was quite ready to define. All they knew was that they had each other, both on and off the court. And as the season progressed, it was clear that whatever happened, they were in it together.

As the season went on, the connection between Azzi and Y/N grew. On the court, they were unstoppable. Off the court, their chemistry continued to build. Between practices, games, and their growing bond, it became evident that their relationship wasn’t just about basketball—it was about understanding, support, and an unspoken trust that only teammates, and maybe something more, could share.

Their bond had only just begun, and with the season still ahead of them, Azzi and Y/N knew that no matter where their relationship went, they had something special that could carry them through any challenge—together.

______________________________________________________________________

The season was heating up, and UConn was ready to face one of their toughest opponents yet—Iowa. The arena was buzzing with anticipation, and the energy in the locker room was high. Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK were all locked in, determined to make their mark against a team known for its fierce defense and high-scoring offense.

As the team huddled together, Coach Geno Auriemma gave them his usual pep talk, reminding them of their strengths and the importance of staying composed. But for Y/N, there was an added layer of excitement—not just for the game, but for the bond that was beginning to form with Azzi. They’d been growing closer over the last few weeks, and the connection between them was becoming impossible to ignore.

The game started with an intense pace, both teams trading baskets and playing aggressively. Azzi, as usual, was a standout—her defense was sharp, her shooting precise, and she was leading the charge. But Y/N wasn’t far behind. They were playing with a confidence that had grown stronger with each passing game, making crucial shots and setting up their teammates with perfect assists.

In the first half, UConn had the lead, but Iowa was relentless. Their star player, Caitlin Clark, was lighting up the scoreboard, and UConn was struggling to keep up with her. The Huskies’ defense was getting tested like never before, and it was clear that this game was going to come down to the wire.

Azzi and Y/N were always near each other on the court, constantly communicating through eye contact and quick gestures. Their chemistry was undeniable, and the more they played together, the more they seemed to anticipate each other’s moves.

With the game tied and just minutes left, the tension in the air was palpable. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as UConn fought to hold off Iowa’s final push. Y/N was at the top of the key, waiting for the ball. Azzi, on the other side, was creating space with her usual quick cuts. When Y/N caught the ball, they saw Azzi’s movement and immediately passed it to her, giving Azzi the perfect shot to take the game into UConn’s favor.

Azzi drained the shot, and the crowd erupted. UConn had the lead with only seconds left on the clock.

______________________________________________________________________

The final buzzer sounded, and UConn had done it—they had beaten Iowa in a thrilling, back-and-forth game. The players spilled onto the court, celebrating their hard-earned victory. Paige, KK, and the rest of the team surrounded Azzi, high-fiving and shouting in excitement. But Azzi’s eyes immediately found Y/N in the crowd of teammates. Without a second thought, she made her way toward them, her heart racing from the adrenaline of the game and the sheer joy of the win.

Y/N was already smiling, their eyes locked onto Azzi as she approached. As soon as she was within reach, Azzi wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.

“You were incredible today,” Azzi said, her voice full of admiration. Her hands lingered on Y/N’s back, her touch lingering just a little longer than it should have. Y/N could feel their heart beat faster at the closeness.

Y/N laughed softly, brushing their hand against Azzi’s arm. “We were a team out there. You nailed that shot.”

Azzi grinned, her face flushed from the heat of the game and the joy of victory. She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing Y/N’s ear as she whispered, “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

In that moment, with the roar of the crowd still in the background, Azzi’s lips found Y/N’s, pressing a soft, quick kiss against them. The action wasn’t for anyone else; it wasn’t a display for the cameras. It was a moment between two people who had been building something special. A quiet declaration of how much they meant to each other, even in the chaos of competition.

Y/N pulled back slightly, their eyes searching Azzi’s. “I didn’t expect that” they whispered, their voice teasing but full of affection.

Azzi smiled, her fingers tracing the edge of Y/N’s jaw. “What? You thought I’d wait?”

Y/N chuckled, stepping a little closer, their breath mixing with Azzi’s. “I guess not.”

______________________________________________________________________

The locker room was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter as the team celebrated their victory. Paige and KK were joking around, and Coach Auriemma was offering his praise, though his tone remained firm, reminding them that the season wasn’t over yet.

Azzi and Y/N found themselves in the middle of the celebration, but they couldn’t help stealing glances at each other, their connection undeniable. Between the high-fives and the cheers, they found themselves inching closer again, quietly finding moments to touch—whether it was brushing hands, a brief arm around the shoulder, or a shared smile. The tension that had been building for weeks was finally starting to shift into something more comfortable, more real.

As the noise of the celebration continued, Y/N leaned toward Azzi, speaking in a low voice so no one else could hear. “You know, this season’s going to be unforgettable.”

Azzi nodded, her gaze intense but soft. “Yeah. And I’m glad I get to share it with you.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. It wasn’t about the game. It wasn’t about the championship they were chasing. It was about the quiet bond that had grown between them, something that neither was ready to fully define but something that both of them knew was going to be a big part of this journey.

______________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, after the celebrations had died down and the team was heading back to the hotel, Azzi and Y/N walked side by side, the city lights casting long shadows in front of them. The hustle and bustle of the streets seemed far away compared to the quiet moments they shared.

As they approached the hotel entrance, Y/N glanced at Azzi. “Hey, you want to grab a late-night snack?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You just want an excuse to spend more time with me, don’t you?”

Y/N grinned, their heart swelling with affection. “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

Azzi’s smile widened. “Not at all.”

They entered the hotel together, already anticipating the quiet of the night ahead and whatever came next, both on and off the court.

As the season continued, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they had each other to rely on—not just as teammates, but as something more.

“Together, Always”

With each passing day, Azzi and Y/N’s bond deepened. The season was long, and the games would only get harder, but they were ready for whatever came their way—both on the court and in the moments they would continue to share.

______________________________________________________________________

The holiday season had arrived, and with it, the much-needed Christmas break. UConn had a short window to rest before the next big stretch of games, and the players were grateful for the time to recharge. Azzi Fudd and Y/N, however, found themselves struggling to stay away from basketball for too long. The gym was quiet, but both were there, sneaking in extra workouts when the rest of the team took a break.

Even though they were in a festive mood, with Christmas lights twinkling outside and a blanket of snow covering the campus, there was a warmth between Azzi and Y/N that hadn’t been there before. The connection between them had grown beyond their teammates’ bond—there was something undeniably special blossoming in the spaces between their stolen glances and the quiet moments they shared.

______________________________________________________________________

It was Christmas Eve, and while most of the team had already left for the break, Azzi and Y/N had stayed behind to finish up some last-minute drills. The gym was almost empty, save for a few coaches doing their final rounds, and the quiet hum of the lights overhead.

Azzi was practicing her shots from the three-point line, her form smooth and fluid. Y/N was at the other end of the court, dribbling and running drills, but they kept stealing glances at Azzi, their focus momentarily slipping.

“Focus, Y/N!” Azzi called out with a smirk, her voice echoing off the empty walls.

Y/N rolled their eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I’m focusing” they shot back playfully, dribbling the ball harder.

Azzi, sensing a playful challenge, tossed the ball toward Y/N. “Let’s see who can make more shots in five minutes.”

Y/N caught the ball and immediately shot it back, grinning. “You’re on.”

The next five minutes were filled with rapid shots, quick passes, and laughter. Azzi’s competitiveness was infectious, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel energized by her presence. Every time Azzi made a shot, she flashed a quick, teasing smile at Y/N, and every time Y/N managed to sink one of their own, they exchanged a playful challenge.

In the final moments of their competition, Y/N found themselves at the top of the key, setting up for one last shot. As they focused on the hoop, they heard Azzi’s voice behind them, playful yet sincere.

“You know, you’re kind of ruining my perfect streak here.”

Y/N grinned without turning, speaking just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “Better get used to it then.”

With that, Y/N made the final shot, and they couldn’t help but do a small victory dance. Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing, but then moved toward Y/N, standing just a few inches away.

“You win this time” Azzi said, her voice low and teasing.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the proximity, and they couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face. “Only because you let me.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening. “Is that so?”

Without warning, Azzi reached out and pulled Y/N into a brief but intimate hug, her arms wrapping around them. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against theirs, and the world outside the gym felt far away. Y/N didn’t pull away; instead, they leaned into the hug, savoring the quiet connection between them.

As Azzi pulled back slightly, she placed a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead, the soft pressure sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. The feeling lingered, and for a moment, the only sound was their shared breaths.

After their practice session, both Azzi and Y/N decided to take a break from the team activities and spend Christmas Eve together. Y/N had invited Azzi over to their apartment for a quiet evening, away from the usual hustle and bustle of team life.

The small apartment was cozy, decorated with string lights and a Christmas tree in the corner. Y/N had prepared dinner—a homemade pasta dish—and the warm, comforting aroma filled the space.

Azzi kicked off her sneakers and sat on the couch, her eyes scanning the room. “This is nice. You’ve really got a vibe going on here.”

Y/N laughed, setting the plates down on the table. “Thanks. It’s just a little apartment, but I like it.”

Azzi smiled, looking over at Y/N with something soft in her eyes. “I like it too. Feels like home.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words, and they felt a warmth settle in their chest. They sat down next to Azzi, their legs brushing. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of Christmas music played softly in the background as the two of them sat in companionable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Azzi looked over at Y/N, her eyes thoughtful. “You know, I didn’t think I’d spend Christmas like this—just the two of us.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging Azzi lightly. “Yeah? You didn’t think I’d drag you into my low-key Christmas plans?”

Azzi grinned. “I’m glad you did. It’s… nice. Honestly, I haven’t had a Christmas like this in a long time.”

Y/N paused, looking at Azzi carefully. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Azzi’s smile softened, and she reached for Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining. It was a quiet gesture, but it felt significant—a small yet intimate connection between the two of them that spoke volumes.

After dinner, Azzi and Y/N went outside to get some fresh air, stepping onto the balcony of Y/N’s apartment. The night was cold, but the Christmas lights on the nearby buildings created a soft, warm glow.

Azzi wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay warm, and Y/N moved closer, instinctively pulling her into a hug.

“Cold out here, huh?” Y/N asked, their breath visible in the chilly air.

Azzi nodded, leaning into the warmth of Y/N’s body. “A little, but this is nice. You’re nice.”

Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. “I’m glad you think so.”

Azzi shifted slightly, her face turning toward Y/N’s. The way she looked at them, her eyes soft yet intense, sent a spark of warmth straight through Y/N. Before Y/N could say anything, Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Y/N’s in a gentle kiss.

The kiss was slow and tender, like something that had been building up for far too long. It was full of quiet affection, a Christmas gift neither of them had expected but both needed. Azzi’s lips lingered against Y/N’s for just a moment longer, the world outside fading away as they shared the moment.

When they pulled back, Azzi smiled, her face flushed in the cool night air. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Azzi” Y/N replied, their voice thick with emotion.

In that quiet, cozy space, beneath the glow of Christmas lights and the warmth of their connection, they knew that whatever came next—whatever challenges the season would throw their way—they had each other. And that, for now, was all that mattered.

______________________________________________________________________

As Christmas break came to an end and the New Year approached, Azzi and Y/N found themselves even more inseparable. Their bond was no longer just about basketball—it was about the quiet moments, the shared glances, and the way they made each other feel seen.

As they prepared for the next phase of the season, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—on the court and off. The chemistry between them, both in basketball and in life, had only just begun to unfold, and it was clear that the season would be unforgettable, not just for their victories but for the love that was growing between them.

______________________________________________________________________

The excitement was palpable as the start of March Madness approached. UConn had made it to the Final Four, a feat that was no surprise to anyone who followed women’s basketball, but for Azzi Fudd and Y/N, it felt like a dream that had been slowly taking shape for months. The team had worked tirelessly, each player pushing themselves to new limits. And now, here they were, one step away from the national championship.

The buzz around the team was electric. Coach Geno Auriemma kept the mood light, but everyone knew that the stakes were higher than ever. UConn’s first game of the Final Four would be against a talented team that had been gaining momentum all season. The pressure was on, but the players were focused and ready. Azzi and Y/N, in particular, had been inseparable, both on and off the court. Their bond was stronger than ever, and there was a quiet sense of excitement when they looked at each other—something more than just basketball.

It was the night before the big game. The team had a light practice session to stay sharp, and the tension was building. Azzi and Y/N were staying in a hotel, the team scattered in different rooms as they prepared for the challenge ahead. But even amidst the pressure, there was an undeniable sense of calm between them.

They found themselves alone for a rare moment, sitting side by side in a small lounge area in the hotel. The rest of the team was either resting or preparing mentally for the game, but Azzi and Y/N had decided to take a few minutes to themselves.

Azzi, dressed in her UConn hoodie and sweatpants, leaned back in her chair, her feet tucked under her as she sipped on a bottle of water. Y/N, sitting beside her, couldn’t help but notice how at ease Azzi seemed. Her presence was calming, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through their mind about the upcoming game.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Y/N asked softly, glancing at Azzi.

Azzi smiled, her eyes catching the light from the nearby lamp. “As ready as I’ll ever be. But, I think the real question is, are you ready?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. “Oh, I’ve been ready for this moment since we made it to the tournament. It’s just… crazy, you know? One step away from the championship.”

Azzi nodded, her expression turning more serious. “Yeah, but we can’t think too far ahead. We’ve got to focus on the game at hand. We’ve worked so hard for this moment. And we’ve got this.”

The confidence in Azzi’s voice made Y/N’s heart swell. It was impossible not to believe in her—Azzi had always been the one to lift others up when the pressure mounted. But this time, Y/N wanted to lift her up.

Y/N leaned over, their hand brushing against Azzi’s. The gesture was subtle, but it was enough to send a wave of warmth through both of them. They looked at each other, eyes locking for a long moment.

Azzi gave them a soft smile, her fingers lightly tracing the back of Y/N’s hand. “You’ve been the best teammate I could ask for,” she whispered, her voice low.

Y/N felt a rush of emotion at the words. “I couldn’t do it without you,” they replied.

For a long second, neither of them said anything. The weight of their connection hung in the air, and it felt like everything around them—the upcoming game, the pressure, the noise—didn’t matter as long as they had each other.

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, and before Y/N could stop themselves, they leaned in, brushing their lips gently against Azzi’s. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—quiet, tender, and filled with unspoken promises.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Y/N’s neck, pulling them closer as the kiss deepened. It was a moment of vulnerability, of love, away from the world of basketball and the expectations that came with it. For those few moments, there was no championship to chase, no opponents to face. There was only Azzi and Y/N—two people, lost in the quiet intimacy they had shared.

When they finally pulled back, both were breathing a little faster, eyes lingering on each other.

“I love you” Azzi whispered, her forehead resting gently against Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled softly, their hand finding Azzi’s. “I love you too”

______________________________________________________________________

The next day, the tension in the arena was palpable. The crowd was filled with energy, anticipation hanging thick in the air. UConn was about to face Stanford in the Final Four, and both teams knew what was on the line. The players had been through countless practices and countless games, but nothing could quite prepare them for the intensity of this match.

Azzi was in her element as usual, moving across the court with confidence and grace. Y/N, equally locked in, fed off Azzi’s energy, pushing themselves to be the best they could be. The game was a back-and-forth battle, with both teams showcasing their strengths.

It was an emotional roller coaster. Stanford had some of the best shooters in the country, but UConn’s defense, led by Azzi and Y/N, was relentless. Paige Bueckers was her usual self—creative, dynamic, and constantly putting pressure on the defense—but it was the bond between Azzi and Y/N that truly stood out. Their connection was unspoken, intuitive. Azzi would catch Y/N’s eyes across the court, and they knew exactly where to pass, exactly when to cut.

As the game neared its climax, the score was tied. There were only seconds left on the clock. The crowd was roaring with anticipation, and Coach Auriemma was giving the final instructions to his team.

Azzi dribbled the ball to the top of the key, where she was quickly surrounded by Stanford defenders. But she knew exactly where Y/N would be, cutting toward the basket with perfect timing.

With one swift motion, Azzi passed the ball. Y/N caught it, squared up, and released the shot—a clean, beautiful arc that flew through the air.

The buzzer rang, and the ball swished through the net.

UConn had won.

The arena erupted in cheers as the players rushed to each other, jumping and screaming in excitement. It was a hard-fought battle, but UConn had done it—they had made it to the national championship.

Azzi and Y/N found each other in the chaos, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to fade away. The celebration was still going on around them, but all they could focus on was each other.

Y/N reached for Azzi, pulling her into a tight embrace. Azzi laughed, her face glowing with the thrill of victory.

“We did it” Azzi said, her voice thick with emotion. “We really did it.”

Y/N smiled, their fingers gently brushing the back of Azzi’s neck. “We’re not done yet.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve got a championship to win.”

But before the moment could end, Y/N leaned in, their lips meeting Azzi’s in a soft, celebratory kiss. It was a kiss full of joy, full of love, full of everything they had worked for. And as the crowd continued to cheer, the two of them shared a moment of quiet victory, knowing that no matter what happened in the championship, they had each other.

The championship was within reach, but for now, they were content. They had made it this far, and nothing—nothing—could take away the bond they had created along the way.

As the team celebrated in the locker room, the countdown to the final game began. But Y/N and Azzi knew that no matter what, they were already winners. They had each other, and that was worth more than any trophy. The championship game would come soon enough, but for now, they had their moment—a moment to remember for the rest of their lives.

______________________________________________________________________

The national championship game was finally here. After weeks of preparation, sweat, and sacrifices, UConn had made it to the final stage of March Madness, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher. They were facing a powerhouse team in the finals, but no one doubted for a second that UConn had what it took to take home the title.

Azzi Fudd, Y/N, Paige Bueckers, and KK Arnold were all locked in, their chemistry undeniable. As they walked onto the court for warm-ups, there was a quiet confidence about the team. They had made it this far, and now, it was time to finish what they had started.

______________________________________________________________________

Back in the locker room, the mood was a mix of nerves and excitement. Coach Auriemma paced back and forth, talking strategy with the team. He was a master at keeping his players focused while also reminding them of their capabilities.

Azzi sat next to Y/N, both of them tying their shoes, occasionally sharing glances with each other. Paige, sitting across from them, caught their eyes and gave them a playful wink.

“You two are going to have to stop making eyes at each other” Paige teased. “We’ve got a game to win, you know?”

Y/N smiled and leaned into Azzi’s side. “I can’t help it, Paige. She’s distracting.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly grin. “I’m not the only one who’s distracting. Look at KK over there, talking to the water bottle like it’s her best friend.”

KK, who had been deep in concentration, looked up at the teasing and laughed. “Hey, hydration is important. Don’t mock my pre-game routine!”

The entire locker room erupted in laughter, the tension momentarily lifted by the lightheartedness.

Paige’s eyes softened as she turned to Y/N and Azzi. “Seriously though, you two have been amazing together this season. I’m proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Paige” Y/N said, their smile genuine. “We’ve got this. We’ve been through too much to let it slip now.”

Azzi nodded, her expression determined. “We’re finishing what we started. Let’s get this win.”

______________________________________________________________________

The game was a battle from the first whistle. South Carolina came out strong, and the first few minutes were filled with aggressive plays from both sides. Azzi and Y/N were playing their best, moving fluidly across the court and communicating without speaking. Every pass, every screen, every shot felt perfectly orchestrated, like a well-rehearsed routine.

Paige, as always, was a force, using her quick thinking to find gaps in the defense. KK, ever the spark plug, was everywhere—making hustle plays, diving for loose balls, and pushing the pace. It was a team effort, and they were all in sync.

Azzi had the ball near the top of the key, looking for an opening. Y/N, setting a screen for her, flashed to the basket, knowing exactly what was coming next. Azzi made a quick pass, and Y/N caught the ball mid-air and finished with a beautiful layup.

Paige clapped and shouted from the sidelines, “That’s the way to do it!”

KK ran up to them, high-fiving both Azzi and Y/N. “I love how you two are in sync! Keep it up.”

As the game wore on, the intensity only grew. South Carolina’s defense was relentless, and the score remained tight. With just under two minutes left in the game, UConn was up by only three points. The atmosphere was electric—every possession mattered.

Coach Auriemma called a timeout to regroup the team, and the players huddled around him.

“Listen,” Coach said firmly, looking each player in the eye, “this is what we’ve trained for. We are the best when we play together. Stay calm. Trust each other.”

Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK exchanged looks of determination. There was no way they were going to let this moment slip away. It was time to finish the job.

______________________________________________________________________

The crowd held its breath as the final seconds ticked down. With only 10 seconds left, the ball was in Azzi’s hands. She dribbled up the court, eyes scanning the defense. Y/N, positioned on the wing, made a sharp cut toward the basket, signaling to Azzi that they were ready.

Azzi saw it. With the defense collapsing around her, she passed the ball to Y/N. Y/N caught it cleanly and, with a quick pump fake, got their defender in the air. The clock was winding down, and with a quick move, Y/N pulled up for a jump shot from the elbow.

The ball soared through the air.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

And then, it swished through the net.

The crowd went wild. UConn had done it. The game was over. They were the national champions.

The moment the buzzer sounded, the UConn players erupted in celebration. They had won the national championship, and it was a feeling like no other. Teammates hugged, jumped, and screamed in joy.

Azzi and Y/N found each other in the chaos, instantly wrapping their arms around one another. They both laughed, out of breath, and their faces lit up with pure happiness.

“We did it” Azzi said, her voice shaky with emotion. “We really did it.”

Y/N smiled, their heart racing. “We did. And we did it together.”

Azzi pulled them close, her lips meeting Y/N’s in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a moment they would remember forever, not just because of the championship, but because it was theirs.

Paige, KK, and the rest of the team cheered around them, but for a few moments, it was just Azzi and Y/N—two players who had come together to achieve something incredible, who had faced every obstacle and overcome it, and now stood on top of the basketball world.

As they pulled away, Y/N rested their forehead against Azzi’s. “I love you.”

Azzi smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face. “I love you too.”

Paige walked up to them, her eyes shining with pride. “You two are unstoppable. So happy for you both.”

KK joined in, giving them both a high-five. “Champions! You guys deserve this.”

Azzi grinned at Y/N, her fingers lacing through theirs. “We all deserve this. But this is just the beginning.”

With that, the UConn team celebrated their victory together, knowing that they had earned their place in history. And for Azzi and Y/N, this championship was more than just a win—it was the start of their future, both on and off the court.

The championship was over, but the bond between Azzi and Y/N was just beginning. They had achieved everything they had set out to do—together. As they stood there, surrounded by their teammates, they knew that this moment would be the first of many they would share as a team, as a couple, and as champions.

With the victory behind them, they were ready for whatever came next.

Or maybe they weren’t…

______________________________________________________________________

The days in UConn were slipping by quickly, the final stretch of the season creeping ever closer. Y/N had been playing the best basketball of their life, impressing coaches, teammates, and scouts alike. But as much as they loved their time at UConn, there was an undeniable feeling that a new chapter was waiting for them.

It had come from a conversation that had started with an unexpected email. A contract offer.

One morning, after practice, Y/N sat in their dorm room, staring at the email in disbelief. It was from Basket Landes, one of the top professional teams in France. They had watched Y/N play all season and, after much consideration, wanted them to join their roster. The offer was a dream come true, and the idea of taking their career to the next level in France was tempting. Especially if they can reach the international stage after that.

Y/N’s excitement was tempered by the weight of what they had just signed: a contract with Basket Landes. They had made the decision with the best intentions, believing it would be the next step for their career. But telling Azzi about it had been harder than expected.

When Y/N first shared the news with her, they’d hoped for a reaction of support, pride, and excitement. But instead, the conversation felt strained, and Azzi’s voice held an undercurrent of sadness that Y/N couldn’t ignore.

“You’re really going? To France?” Azzi asked, her tone flat, as if the shock of it all had hit her like a freight train.

“Azzi, I know this is sudden. I just… it’s a huge opportunity for me” Y/N said, trying to explain, but their words fell short.

Azzi paused, taking in the news. “I get that, but… we’re just supposed to be doing this together, right? I didn’t think we’d be so far apart.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them. Y/N could hear the hurt in Azzi’s voice. It wasn’t that Azzi didn’t want them to chase their dreams, but the distance felt impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry” Y/N whispered, feeling guilty for the sudden separation.

The conversation drifted, and despite the promises to make it work, there was a sense of unresolved tension. As the days passed, the couple barely spoke, the distance not just geographical but emotional, too.

Y/N buried themselves in the intensity of life with Basket Landes, practicing hard and trying to adjust to their new routine. But there was a constant ache in their chest, a feeling that something was missing.

______________________________________________________________________

A month passed, and though life in France was busy and exciting, Y/N couldn’t shake the distance between them and Azzi. Azzi had stopped reaching out as much. The texts were sparse, and when they did speak, the conversations felt forced. Both of them had retreated into their own worlds, unsure of what came next.

One evening, during a team dinner at Basket Landes, Yohana Ewodo nudged Y/N playfully. “You look like someone just broke your heart. What’s going on?”

Y/N gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “It’s nothing, just… trying to adjust here, you know?”

Sixtine Macquet raised an eyebrow. “Adjusting, huh? Or is it something else?”

Y/N sighed, setting down their fork. “I miss her. Azzi and I… we’re not talking much lately.”

Clarince Djaldi-Tabdi looked sympathetic. “That sucks, honestly. But hey, you’ve got us here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Marie Pardon gave a knowing smile. “And when Azzi visits, I’m sure we’ll all get to hear about how ‘whipped’ you are. I mean, the way you talk about her…” she teased, making Y/N blush.

Yohana laughed. “Yeah, we know you’re all about that Azzi life. But we get it. Relationships are hard when you’re this far away.”

Just when Y/N thought they couldn’t stand the distance any longer, a message from Azzi popped up on their phone. It had been a week since their last conversation, and Y/N had been growing increasingly frustrated and confused about where they stood.

Azzi’s message was simple: “I’ve been thinking a lot. I miss you. Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart raced. After weeks of silence and a painful month of uncertainty, Azzi was reaching out. They quickly typed out a response. “Yes, please. I miss you too. Let’s talk.”

The call came a few hours later, and when Azzi’s face appeared on the screen, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Azzi started, her voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t handle this well. I was hurt, and I let that get in the way of us. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose you over something like this. I love you.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling relief flood through them. “I love you too, Azzi. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I had to do this for myself. I didn’t want us to drift, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

Azzi smiled softly. “I get it. And I’m proud of you. I just didn’t know how to handle the distance. But now… I want to work through it. Together.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in. There was still a lot of distance between them—physically, emotionally—but the connection that had once brought them together was still there.

“I’m flying out to see you soon,” Azzi said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “I’m not letting this go. I want to be there for you. For us.”

Y/N grinned, their heart swelling. “I can’t wait.”

______________________________________________________________________

A few weeks later, Azzi arrived in France to watch Y/N’s game for Basket Landes. Her visit was like a balm to Y/N’s soul, and the moment they locked eyes at the airport, it was as if all the tension, all the uncertainty, melted away.

After the game, as the team celebrated the win, Azzi stood off to the side, waiting for Y/N. The moment they caught sight of each other, Y/N ran across the court, dropping their bag and wrapping their arms around Azzi in a tight hug.

“Missed you so much,” Y/N whispered, their voice thick with emotion.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her hands cupping Y/N’s face. “I missed you too. I’m so proud of you. You’re killing it here.”

The team watched from a distance, grinning at the PDA. Yohana leaned over to Sixtine and whispered, “Looks like they’ve got it all figured out now, huh?”

Sixtine nodded, smirking. “I knew it was just a matter of time before they’d be all over each other again. It’s hard to stay mad when you love someone that much.”

The girls of Basket Landes exchanged knowing glances as Y/N and Azzi shared a soft kiss before turning to join the team.

“Alright, alright, lovebirds,” Marie teased, “Save some of that for later. We’ve got a game to celebrate, and we all know how whipped you are, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed, rolling their eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Luisa Geiselsöder joined in. “But you’re so cute together, we can’t help it. Glad to see you two worked things out.”

Y/N smiled, the warmth of their teammates surrounding them. It felt like a weight had been lifted—not just from their relationship with Azzi, but from the pressure of trying to balance a new life in France with their own ambitions.

As they walked off the court, hand-in-hand with Azzi, Y/N felt a renewed sense of peace. Despite the challenges and the uncertainty, they knew they would make it work. They had each other, and that was enough.

In that moment, everything felt right again.

______________________________________________________________________

The months in Basket Landes had been nothing short of magical. Y/N had found their stride, playing alongside a team that was as close as family. The first season in France had been a whirlwind of highs and lows, but it was capped off with something they had always dreamed of: a championship win.

The win was a testament to their hard work, dedication, and the support from their teammates, like Myriam Djekoundade, Clarince, Luisa, and Leila Lacan, all of whom had become not just teammates but true friends.

But just when they thought life couldn’t get any better, another surprise came their way.

It was a typical day of practice when their phone buzzed with an email notification. At first, Y/N barely glanced at it, thinking it was just another team update or a sponsor’s message. But then they saw the subject line: “France National Team – Olympic Call-Up”.

Their heart skipped a beat as they clicked open the email. The French national team had officially called them up for the Olympics.

Y/N froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. This was the opportunity of a lifetime—something they had dreamed of since they were a child. But even now, with the offer in front of them, they couldn’t quite process it. They had just finished a fantastic season with Basket Landes, and now the Olympics? It felt like a dream.

Y/N couldn’t contain their excitement, and they rushed to find Azzi, who was finishing up a workout in the gym.

“Azzi! Azzi, I got called up!” Y/N practically yelled as they burst through the door.

Azzi looked up in surprise, eyes widening as she took in Y/N’s excited expression. “Called up? For what? What are you talking about?”

“The French national team, Azzi!” Y/N couldn’t stop grinning. “They’ve asked me to join them for the Olympics!”

Azzi’s jaw dropped, and then a wide smile spread across her face. She crossed the room in seconds, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Oh my god, babe, this is huge! I’m so proud of you!”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as they held onto Azzi. “I can’t believe it. This is everything I’ve worked for. And now it’s happening.”

Azzi pulled back, her smile softening. “You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard, and I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N looked into Azzi’s eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Azzi. You’ve been my rock through all of this. I’m going to make you proud.”

Azzi kissed their forehead, a tender gesture. “You already have.”

______________________________________________________________________

As the news spread among their Basket Landes teammates, the teasing and excitement began. Everyone was thrilled for Y/N, but they couldn’t resist poking fun at how far their star player had come.

“You’ve really made it now, huh?” Destiny Slocum teased, giving Y/N a playful nudge as they walked into the locker room. “First a championship, now the Olympics? What’s next, a statue?”

Y/N laughed, rolling their eyes. “Come on, guys. It’s just a call-up. Still gotta prove myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louise Bussière chimed in, “We all know you’re going to crush it. Don’t forget us when you’re rubbing elbows with all those famous players.”

Sixtine leaned in, smirking. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We know you’ll still have time for us when you’re an Olympic gold medalist.”

Yohana added with a grin, “Just don’t forget to bring us all some Olympic swag when you’re there, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. “I’ll bring you all back something. But first, I need to survive this training camp.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Basket Landes had become home, and these women were more than teammates—they were family. Their support meant the world.

Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner with the team, Y/N and Azzi walked back to Y/N’s apartment together. The excitement was still buzzing in the air, but there was a quiet, intimate moment between the two of them as they settled on the couch.

“You’re going to be amazing in the Olympics, Y/N,” Azzi said, her voice full of pride. “I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N leaned in, cupping Azzi’s face. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. You were always there, supporting me, even when things were tough.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes soft. “And I’ll be there when you bring home that gold medal.”

Y/N kissed her softly, the tender moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket. The uncertainty, the distance, the challenges—they had all faded into the background. This was their moment.

“I’ll miss you when I’m away” Y/N whispered against Azzi’s lips.

“I’ll be cheering you on every second,” Azzi murmured, pulling Y/N closer. “And when you get back, we’ll celebrate together. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________________

As Y/N packed their bags for the Olympic training camp, their Basket Landes teammates rallied around them one last time, offering their congratulations and support. Marie and Clarince gave Y/N a big hug before they left.

“We’re so proud of you. Go out there and show them what you’ve got,” Clarince said, her voice full of emotion.

“Don’t forget us little people when you’re an Olympic star,” Marie teased, but there was nothing but sincerity in her words.

Y/N laughed, feeling the love from their teammates. “I’ll never forget you guys. You’re all a part of this.”

______________________________________________________________________

As Y/N boarded the plane for the Olympic training camp, they felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. The journey was just beginning, but everything they had worked for was within their reach.

And through it all, they knew one thing for certain: they had Azzi by their side, cheering them on every step of the way.

This was their dream, and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to stop them from reaching it.

______________________________________________________________________

The Olympic Games had been a whirlwind of highs and lows for Y/N. After months of grueling preparation, the time had finally arrived for their team to play in the gold medal final against the mighty USA. The Arena de Paris was filled to the brim with fans cheering for France, and Y/N, now a key member of the team, could feel the weight of the moment. The crowd’s energy was electric, but they were focused. They had trained for this. Every drill, every practice, every sacrifice had led to this game.

Azzi, KK, Paige, and the entire Basket Landes team had flown in to see Y/N play, standing by the sidelines, ready to show their unwavering support. The weight of the moment didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, especially knowing that they weren’t alone in this journey. The love and support from Azzi made everything seem possible.

______________________________________________________________________

The final was intense—USA and France battled relentlessly, with both teams showcasing their immense talent. Y/N played a phenomenal game, as did Leila, who had also been called up to the Olympic team. But with only seconds left on the clock, it was clear that the game was slipping from their grasp. The score stood at USA 67, France 66 as the final buzzer sounded. A wave of disappointment swept over the team, as they realized they had fallen just short of winning the gold.

For a moment, Y/N stood frozen on the court, feeling the weight of the loss. Their teammates were already gathered, trying to console each other, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something that had meant so much. As they walked off the court, their gaze met Azzi’s from the stands. Azzi gave a small, reassuring smile, her eyes saying everything that words could not. There was pride in her gaze, and she would be there to support them no matter the outcome.

After the game, as emotions ran high, Sabrina Ionescu walked over to Y/N, the player from the USA team, who had played an incredible match. As they stood by the locker room, Sabrina spoke up. “Hey, you played amazing out there. You deserve this,” she said, offering a genuine smile. “I’d love to swap jerseys with you if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled, a mix of emotions swirling within them. “It’d be an honor.”

They exchanged jerseys—Y/N now holding the USA jersey, a symbol of the fierce competition they had just fought—and for Sabrina, receiving the France jersey from one of the brightest stars in the game.

______________________________________________________________________

After the Olympics ended, Y/N and their teammates flew back to their lovely town. Though the sting of the loss was still fresh, the pride they felt in earning silver was undeniable. Luisa, who had also played brilliantly throughout the tournament, had secured the third-place medal for Germany, and Y/N together with Leila (who contributed immensely), they celebrated their collective success.

But what awaited Y/N at the apartment wasn’t just the quiet reflection of their Olympic journey—it was a celebration of what they had accomplished, and they were about to be surrounded by the people who had supported them all along: Azzi, Paige, KK, and the girls from Basket Landes.

The door swung open, and the first thing Y/N heard was a chorus of cheers. “Surprise!” Louise and Sixtine grinned as they popped open bottles of champagne. “We’re here to celebrate—Olympic silver is no small feat!”

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of warmth as Azzi wrapped their arms around them, holding them close. “You were incredible,” Azzi whispered. “I’m so proud of you. Gold or silver, you’re a champion to me.”

As the night went on, laughter filled the apartment. The Basket Landes team took it upon themselves to tease Y/N in the most loving way.

Destiny leaned in, winking. “Okay, Y/N, now that you’ve got Olympic silver, when’s the parade for us in Basket Landes? We need a celebration of our own, huh?”

The entire room erupted in laughter. Myriam playfully added, “Well, at least now you’re one step closer to having as many medals as Azzi!”

Y/N rolled their eyes, though they couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I see what this is. I leave for a few weeks, and now you’re all turning into comedians?”

Marie laughed. “We’re just trying to remind you that we’re still the OG squad. Don’t forget who got you here!”

The banter continued, with teasing and laughter flowing freely. The support from the team was palpable, and Y/N realized just how lucky they were to be surrounded by such an amazing group of people. And then there was Azzi, who stood by them through it all—celebrating the victories, comforting in the losses, and always showing love.

______________________________________________________________________

As the evening wore on, the celebration became more intimate. Azzi and Y/N found a quiet corner of the apartment, away from the noise of the party.

“Come here, you,” Azzi whispered, pulling Y/N close. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, and for a moment, the world outside faded. It was just the two of them, holding onto each other, letting the love they shared heal the sting of defeat.

“I’m so proud of you,” Azzi murmured against Y/N’s lips. “This is just the beginning. I know next time we’ll get that gold.”

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “Next time,” they whispered back. “But for now, I’m just happy to be with you.”

______________________________________________________________________

As the night came to a close and the group celebrated the success of the Olympics, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. They had earned silver at the most prestigious sporting event in the world, they had Azzi by their side, and they had an incredible team waiting for them back in Basket Landes.

Though the game had ended in defeat, Y/N knew that this was just one chapter of a much larger story. They had come so far, and there was no limit to what they could achieve next. With Azzi and the Basket Landes girls by their side, and the promise of more victories to come, Y/N felt ready for whatever the future held.

It wasn’t about the gold. It was about the journey—and the people who made it worthwhile.

The night ended with a toast to Luisa, Leila, and Y/N—the three players who had given everything for Germany and France had emerged with medals to prove it. But most importantly, it was a celebration of love, friendship, and the unbreakable bonds they had formed along the way.

[thevampiremarie]

treehouse chapter 34 (tumblr version)

🔞 Dream of the Endless I Lord Morpheus x reader 🔞

Unplanned pregnancy, SMUT

In the Waking World, Morpheus finds the cure to your recent ailment. Read on AO3 here.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MALIGAYANG PASKO, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! THANKS FOR READING I LOVE YALL SO MUCH! One of my fav things about fanfiction is that oftentimes it can be a more ethical way to consume certain media, especially when the original creator is exposed for doing fuck shit. So consider this guilt free, cruelty free, organic Sandman! This chapter takes place canonically at a made up lake in the Philippines, which I modeled after Lake Sebu. Lake Sebu is notable for its significance to the local indigenous T'boli tribe, who are known as the Dreamweavers. Traditionally T'boli women weave t'nalak, a sacred textile made up of patterns that come to the T'boli weavers at night in their dreams. Thus Lake Sebu is known as the cradle of the Dreamweavers. Additional note: I had to change my usernames everywhere because I was being cyberstalked. As a result I accidentally broke all of my masterlist links, I fixed them

Reader POV:

Shortly after you lose yourself in the pale ivory maze of halls and doorways that capture you the second you step beyond the confines of your chamber, Morpheus finds you.

These halls are a labyrinth without a single splash of color to relieve the oppressive, endless uniformity. White tiles and black tiles forming a checkerboard pattern, then you turn down a path constructed of ivory and ivory alone, another of deep black granite without a shade of light or a window to relieve the deep shadows drowning you.

You hold your hand to your temple to stop the pressure building in your skull, pain churning through your nerves like white-capped waves. Your fingers come back damp with sweat.

It feels as though you’ve been swept away. Carried around the Dreaming by forces you can hardly comprehend, much less control.

Are you still asleep in your feather bed?

“Wake up,” You whisper to yourself. “Wake up.”

“You’re awake,” A deep voice says. The sound distorts between the skewed, unnaturally-placed walls.

You turn on your heel and find yourself face to face with the source of that displeased, rather put out voice.

Morpheus crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against a pillar with pursed lips. “I’ve been looking for you, darling. I had an interesting conversation with Johanna Constantine.” The blush drains out of your face.

Before you can respond, your stomach contracts and twists into itself. Before you even realize it you’re bent over in two, watching the apple cider splatter out of your mouth and onto the floor.

His cool hands pull your loose hair away from your face and back behind your head. “Hardly my best look,” You mumble as you bat away his helping hands and try to stand on your own. You should know better at this point. Morpheus isn’t easily deterred, especially when it comes to you.

He helps you stand anyway, shrugging off your rejection like water rolling off a duck’s back. “Unfortunately, no. But I’ve seen worse.” In your head, you translate that from Endless to English to mean ‘yeah, you do look like shit.’

Tactful as always. “It’s all your fault,” You mutter. When he offers an arm for you to slide under, you do so gladly, clinging to him like a lifeline. It even feels like one, like a lifesaver for two idiots stuck in deep water of their own making.

Your head hurts so much less when your eyes are closed to the Lovecraftian chaos in your surroundings. It’s second nature to bury your face into his shirt and let the soothing rhythm of Morpheus’s heartbeat distract you. “Come along,” He urges you, taking a few steps to some unknown destination without deigning to inform you where.

Despite the kindness in his voice and the softness of his shirt against your cheek, more comforting than any blanket on your great bed, you push back. “No.” Your feet stay where they are. Morpheus would not drag you somewhere. It would be undignified.

After a few seconds pass, Morpheus seems to come to the conclusion you had already decided; that you will not go. “Wait- stop-“ His arms sweep you up off your feet as if you’re nothing more than a flower to be plucked out of the ground.

You open your eyes to see his stupid smirk oozing with victory. “It’s for your own good, little darling. Or would you prefer I put you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” It would be even less dignified for you to be treated so and Dream knows you’d refuse it.

He continues on with no further resistance. You haven’t lost all your pride just yet. His lengthy stride carries the two of you farther in a minute than your legs could in an hour and your surroundings fade into a blur, like paint dripped into a bowl of water.

Morpheus doesn’t have to say anything for you to feel the stymied laughter moving his chest. “Stop gloating.” You poke him once, twice, three times. No reaction.

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“Yes, you are.” Your legs kick gently in the air to make your point.

Morpheus sighs under his breath and mumbles something that sounds like he’s calling you ‘impossible’. And as you’re very mature, perhaps the most mature person here, you decline to respond. It feels like you’ve won after all.

He pauses for a moment to glance at your surroundings. For all you know, you could be anywhere in the world. But you’re with him and that’s enough to keep you calm. For now. “What you have is called sleepy sickness,” Dream says. When he notices you staring, doe eyed and blushing from being carried in his arms like the queen he calls you, his mouth places the faintest kiss upon your forehead.

A humid breeze brushes your cheeks, warm as a hug and carrying the scent of dew-covered grass and clear running water. “It’s not that bad,” You mutter. You’re lying of course, just to be contrarian. It’s only fair to cause him half the headache he’s caused you.

Morpheus sets you down on a fallen tree trunk covered in soft, jade green moss. His hand lingers on your wrist, as smooth as polished marble, and then he takes a gentle, yet firm hold of your jaw. His fingertips barely skim your cheeks, close enough that you could kiss his hand if you wanted. 

Morpheus kneels in the dirt without a care, peering into your eyes for a long moment.

“I do expect an explanation on why it took that… exorcist for me to know you were suffering,” He tells you in a low timbre. “I cannot take care of my love, my queen, my heart itself, and the beloved child you carry without you… talking to me.” Silver moonlight highlights the deep, shadowed worry lines on his face. 

Morpheus has called you his heart. He’s wrong. You can see his heart still in him, cracked open for you to observe, not quite on his sleeves but beating through his chest.

Even you have to admit his admonishment is more than fair. No complaints. You duck your head. Anything to get away from his gaze. “…I’m sorry.” You are, truly. He stops your chin from dipping with the same soft touch used between lovers, between those who share knowledge of each other’s souls.

Morpheus hums softly. “Don’t apologize, and don’t do it again.” He calls you out as if he’s approaching a frightened deer, coaxing you towards him with sweet words, the hand cradling your face like petting the raised spine of that startled animal. “Now come - we will remedy your illness now. I’ll not have you spend another second in such a state.” His outstretched hand helps you to your feet.

A canopy of branches stretches above both your heads. The long, friendly finger-like branches of old growth trees dance and wave hello in the wind you felt earlier. Between the gaps in the large leaves, stars wink at you. Some of them even move, and you realize those unique flecks of light aren’t stars. They’re planes flying in the night and satellites spinning through space, chattering back and forth with each other and the rest of humanity.

You recognize the faint red glow of Mars and the pale yellow fleck of Venus in the dark firmament. “Where are we?”

It feels… real. It feels right. What binds your feet to the grassy earth, covered in scattered fallen leaves and the new buds of wildflowers is gravity, not magic mimicking it.

Morpheus leads you through the old growth trees without hesitation. “Ordinary mortals cannot spend unnaturally long periods of time in the Dreaming. It happens but rarely, most recently when I was imprisoned and unable to uphold the laws of the universe that separate the Waking World and the Dreaming,” He says without looking at you. His skin gleams like mother-of-pearl under the silvery moonlight. “The soul wants to stay as much as the body yearns to go. They grow sicker and sicker as the connection that keeps their dreaming souls attached to their waking bodies weakens. Eventually that connection snaps, leaving behind a comatose body and a wandering spirit in my kingdom with no name or face.” Such respectful words for a nightmarish fate.

Through the trees, the moonlight finds something else to reflect off of. The shine beckons you closer and closer, until you see a large, tranquil lake. The water is the clearest you’ve ever seen, tinged a naturally bright turquoise. Through the glass pane surface, you see the sandy surface of the lake bed dotted with small, smooth pebbles, at most a few feet deep. Vibrant pink water lilies spread open their great green pads at the lake’s edge and birds sing songs to each other in the trees. A white heron picks its way through the lake with meticulous, stilted elegance. It stops to consider the pair Morpheus and you make, then magnanimously decides to give you your privacy and fly away

Something stirs at your side, breaking the spell. You turn to watch, still dazed from the sweet, clean air, as Dream gathers your fingers and kisses them. “The only cure is to take you back to the Waking and allow your soul and body to rest as one, as they were meant to,” He apologizes. His lips are so pink, and his eyes are so wide.

“I can breathe again,” You murmur as your lungs fill with the scent of fragrant banana leaves and papaya trees brought out by the humidity.

It’s all real. You tell yourself that over and over. You sink to the ground and bury your fingers into the earth. When you rub your fingers together, you can feel the grains of dust separate and stick to the grooves of your fingerprints.

You want to touch everything. The rough bark on the trees, the ribbed surface of the lily pads. You want to smell the blossoms and feel the cool water of the lake wash away the clinging, disorienting remnants of the Dreaming from your mind.

Dream joins you on the banks of the lake. “I know,” He coos, dabbing away the sweat shining on your cheeks. “That’s it, darling. Feel better?”

Your dirt-marked hands meet his, seeking reassurance that he’s just as real as you. That he won’t slip out of your grasp and flee into the night like a stranger, now that he has delivered you home.

His palms only have a few lines compared to the meandering map of creases on yours and Morpheus patiently lets you explore them until you’re satisfied with what you find. You leave smudges on the backs of his hands. You go to wipe them off, about to mumble an apology, but Dream stops you. He wraps his fingers around yours even tighter, even as you protest that you’ll get him dirty.

“Now listen carefully,” He begins. His grip trembles, a single, uncontrolled movement in the edifice of composure. Chaos, barely leashed. “I want you well. I want you to smile and forget any time you were unhappy because of the Dreaming. But if you run, I’ll come after you. You know I will. Decide for yourself if you’ll take the relief and pleasure I’m offering, or if you want another chase and the tears that come with it.”

A dream is nothing without a dreamer. Morpheus has long since decided that you are his dreamer, so like all dreams, he fears your eventual abandonment. He fears you might decide that he adds nothing to your life and discard him, leaving him purposeless, a book abandoned on the shelf unread watching as you move on and never look back. Pick me up, his eyes beg. Read me, need me, keep me by your side. Find me a home in your home.

Later, you’ll blame it on the sweltering tropical heat. You’ll blame it on the silver tongue of the god of dreams, slithering its way into your head.

“Is the water swimmable?” You ask instead of answering. In the periphery of your vision, he nods.

So you rise.

What need is there for running? You’re home. The wind has danced through your hair before. The trees have whispered secrets to you since you were old enough to look up at their leaves and make up fairytales. You can empathize with how Morpheus and the Dreaming are bound together. You’re bound to here, birthed and raised here.

The sand grows damper the closer you walk to the edge of the water. It sticks to your toes in clumps. You shed your clothes as a snake sheds its skin. You leave them behind you, a trail of breadcrumbs followed by the sight of your back, bared to him.

You hear a sharp inhale. “Are you sure you want-“ Morpheus’s voice is strangled as if he’s fighting his own dark urges, extinguishing them so that the flames won’t singe you.

The water is much warmer than you thought it would be. It ripples gently across your skin and you walk further into the lake’s embrace.

Once the water envelopes your hips, barely brushing where your belly naturally folds over your hips, you turn to look at the god watching you on his knees from the shore.

You’re aware of everything- your nipples hardening, his narrowed dragon-like eyes feasting on your breasts, your soft arms and plush thighs, and a warmth stirring in your core that only Dream can awaken.

But there in your thoughts is the cold reminder of Johanna’s warning. There is no doubt that Morpheus has been cruel and capricious, carelessly tearing apart anything in his path like a tornado ripping trees and telephone poles from the ground.

But he’s yours. He’s pursued you, chosen you, fought for you. He loves you enough that he’s risking letting you go, where before he locked you in his realm like a songbird in a cage.

You hold out your hand. “Join me.”

Morpheus doesn’t make you wait a second longer. “As you wish, Basileia.” He practically rips his shirt off, losing a button or two in the sand in his haste to reach you.

The hard, muscled planes of his chest beckon to you. You could never get tired of Dream, of looking at him, of wanting him. He’s already half hard against his thigh and he walks into the lake with the smooth, prowling gait of a leopard stalking some helpless prey.

His arms catch your waist and pull you closer. You melt into Morpheus’s familiar touch, impossibly strong yet cradling you as if you were as fragile as spun glass. It’s not until you’ve tucked your head into the crook of his neck, his salty skin so close to your lips that you can almost taste him in the air, that Dream finally relaxes. The water wraps the both of you in a warm cocoon, heightening your senses. Every move he makes ripples against your skin and you’re so painfully, acutely aware of his hips, his legs, how close they are to your own…

Droplets of water trickle between your breasts. Dream follows their path with reverent, covetous eyes. Those beads of water are more precious than diamonds to him because they have the privilege of touching you.

Your skin is painfully sensitive. His grip tightens, shifts, he palms your ass and his other hand cradles the back of your neck, warm and possessive. The pregnancy hormones are no joke; you’re starved, desperate to take him apart with your teeth and hands, and to be taken apart in return until all you know is his taste.

You trace his arched cheekbones with damp fingertips and run your thumb over his plump, flushed lower lip. Dream’s white teeth glint as they sink into your thumb. Not deep enough to cut, but just enough to sting .

Your fingers slide through his dark hair. You graze his scalp with your nails, you pause to take a fist full and tighten your grip. You tug. Morpheus gasps, then curves his mouth into a lazy, listless smirk.

When he kisses you, you kiss him back furiously, your mouth dancing with his and one arm slung around his neck to draw him into you. You moan into the kiss and he hums at the back of his throat in response. Dream’s lips leave yours, much to your displeasure, only to settle on the top of your nose, then your eyelids, the corner of your mouth…

Water streams around your thighs as Morpheus practically drags you up, easily holding most of your weight with one of his arms. The heat in this place is such that sweating does nothing to cool your body, and the muggy air makes stitching yourself as close as possible to his body even sweeter. You bare your neck to Dream’s kiss-swollen lips and the hickies he sucks into your skin.

Your thighs quiver, each sensation so much stronger and brighter than they were the last time he knew you like this. A sweet, drawn out sigh tears itself from your chest as he bites down like a wolf marking his mate. Morpheus groans in return, mouthing against your skin like he’s starved. He mutters and growls as he makes his way past your collarbones and his hands shake where they cling on to you.

And when his nimble, clever fingers drift from your back to find your nipples, thumbing them firmly, you shriek and pull on his hair so hard his head snaps back. He stares back at you with eyes of inhuman obsidian and a furious snarl on his face at being denied your body. “Gentle, please, Morpheus. Please,” You whimper, trembling in his arms from the too-intense pain and pleasure echoing through your sensitive tits.

Your chest heaves. The air is so heavy that it feels like you can’t get enough of it into your lungs. Dream makes a wordless noise of an apology before lavishing you with kisses, his lips moving with the most careful pressure across your flushed breasts. “The shore,” You plead with him. “Take me to the shore, my love.” The endearment steals out of your mouth like a thief. It’s the only thing that cuts through Dream’s lust-filled haze.

His beautiful eyes lighten from black to deep sapphire and the silvery fangs you felt earlier at your vulnerable throat retract ever so slightly.

Before you can blink, Morpheus deposits you on the shore with your back to the sand. The stars above bear witness as he kneels between your legs spread open to invite him, joy and love practically fucking radiating off of him. What he told you in the aftermath of his forced unmasking was true. He loves you. No matter what you do or say, if you cry or flee, his love only grows.

His luminous beauty is so overwhelming that it eclipses the world around you. All you see is him. You reach up to make his perfect hair messier, to bring his perfect mouth close enough for you to kiss until he’s ruined.

You push on his shoulders until he rolls over. His strong arms take you with him and help you drape yourself in his lap, grinding your dripping folds into the thick, heavy weight of his cock.

Morpheus tries to reach for your hips first but you bat his straying hands away. “My tigress,” He moans as you show him what your teeth and nails feel like digging into his alabaster skin, running over his abs, returning in abundance the bite marks and hickies he left on you. Your tongue lathes over the red and blue bruises scattered down his chest, warm and wet, and Morpheus’s heart beats so furiously that you can taste his pulse.

“Stay,” You pant as you plant one hand into his sweat-covered chest. Your lips move lower and lower, leaving kisses along the deliciously-firm ridges of muscle that jump whenever you touch them.

You give into every possible intrusive desire. Your fingers trace his hip bones, the long, elongated lines of his thighs tensing as you wander closer to his flushed, veiny dick, and up again to that muscled v at the bottom of his stomach…

“It’s yours,” Dream says hoarsely, his eyes glowing in the night. “I’m yours.”

This is your world. Your home. And your Endless. Saliva gathers under your tongue and Morpheus beckons. He’s somehow even more desperate for you to carve yourself into his body and soul than you are to wield the knife.

You hover over him, about to take him in your hand. You’ve done horrible things for Morpheus with your hands. You ended a person’s life and you’d do it again if you had to.

The tenderness in his voice makes you weep. “I love you.” He knows. You don’t have to say anything in response. You just have to be here with him and be loved.

His cock is warm in your palm, so long and thick that you have trouble understanding how Dream makes it all fit inside of you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum dotted on his shaft and your cunt flexes with need. Soon, soon, you promise yourself, you’ll let him fuck you into the ground until you’ve forgotten your name.

You watch him as you start at the base, kissing your way up his cock until you reach the fat, rounded tip. Morpheus inhales sharply and a brilliant red flush colors his cheeks. You slowly envelope the head of his cock between your lips and his fingers dig into the ground, trying anything to keep him anchored.

His eyes roll back in his skull like you’re quite literally sucking the soul out of him. You briefly flirt with the idea of pulling away, of depriving Morpheus of the sweet torture that has rendered him speechless.

But since you’re his queen, you can be benevolent if you wish. You’ll make him come so hard that no other woman or goddess will ever compare. You’ve never wanted to do this with a partner as badly as you want to do it for him.

Your hand works the part of his shaft you can’t shove into your throat. You build a strong rhythm, alternating between sucking his dick and running your tongue along the underside where the taut skin is most sensitive. His cock jumps in your mouth when you flick your tongue over one particular spot. “Fuck,” He hisses. “You’re so good to me, beloved…” His needle-thin fangs erupt again, only to dig into his bottom lip. Dream grinds his hips up, forcing another inch of his cock into your sloppy mouth dripping with saliva.

Your surprised moan is completely stifled by his thick, painfully erect flesh. He laughs wickedly and finally reaches for your hair. “I know your game,” Morpheus taunts. A faint tingle of pain flashes through your scalp when he wraps your tangled tresses in his fist and takes control. Saliva runs from the corners of your stretched, bruised lips with each thrust.

His salty, musky taste is addictive and you want more, more than what he’s giving you right now. You won’t be satisfied until he’s spilling his seed down your throat.

Your nails run down his thighs, leaving angry red furrows, and you bob your head, relaxing your throat so you can take him even deeper. This god, this great and powerful creature, full of magic and fury, groans and shakes underneath you.

“Wicked creature,” Morpheus accuses between gasps for breath. You smile up at him with your mouth full before returning to your feast.

You turn your spare hand to another task. You’ve never done this before, but Morpheus inspires a boldness in you, a mindless lust for moremoremore. He grits his teeth, holding back guttural moans. You reach out to cradle his heavy balls in your palm and carefully massage them while you redouble your mouth’s efforts on his cock. Your jaw aches something fierce and you gag once, and then again.

He cries out. You can read the thoughts painted across his face. You’re his confessor and his executioner. Only you have this power over him - to bring him to the highest ecstasy or to brutally cast him out of Heaven.

Your reward is so sudden that it surprises you. All it takes to send Morpheus over the edge, into the most beautiful orgasm you’ve dragged out of him yet, is that gentle caress. His eyes widen, glistening with tears, his pupils dilate. His silver tongue has fallen silent. His face contorts in exquisite agony.

He drags you forward until your lips touch the base of his cock and comes with a low, pained groan. Salty cum floods your tongue and you pull back in surprise. His cum drips down the column of your throat and between your tits. You cough, smearing more of the mess on your cheeks.

Morpheus doesn’t give you even a moment to recover. It must be unbearable for him to be separated from you, like breathing with only one lung instead of both. You carry half his soul. His heart beats in your chest. He kisses you and clutches your shoulders, your face. He licks his cum off your cheeks and drags his fingers through the remnants on your breasts. He brings his fingers to your swollen lips. You open your mouth even as your jaw protests and let him feed you his cum. Not a single drop is wasted.

You suck his fingers one last time before he withdraws them. Your doe eyes stare into his lidded, pleasure-drunk gaze. Finally, you answer him. “Perhaps I’ll keep you… if you make yourself useful.” A smile blooms on his angular face, more heavenly than an archangel.

Or perhaps he’s an incubus here to enslave you. “I’ll be gentle,” He promises. Moonlight flashes off his sharp teeth. Your nerves prickle at the contrast of his sweet words against the sheer primordial force that emanates off of him. Your animal hind brain wants to flee, but the rest of you wants to give in, to reach for the bright flame of his love and let it burn you.

His palm caresses your cheek, sliding over your skin as if you’re made of the most precious silk. But you’re not silk and this is not a dream. You’re real. Flesh and bone.

You look at him through your lashes as you sink your teeth into his wrist.

Dream responds as you want him to. His pale hand, white as a sword, around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict blood flow into your brain. Your dark angel looming over you, the Endless simply taking your submission, not just demanding it.

When he guides you to lay on your back once more, you go gladly.

The stars in his irises glow as he takes in the sight of your breasts moving everytime you take a breath and your thighs slowly, slowly parting. “My poor darling, have you been this needy the whole time?” Morpheus asks in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach twist with desire. His finger trails from your bent knee and down, down towards your inner thighs.

It feels like everything is too hot, too much. You’ve been wet since you took your clothes off, and after making him come so furiously, your pussy is practically crying for him to touch your folds, to fuck you, to remind you who you belong to.

He traces the arousal coating your cunt, playing with the slick but carefully avoiding your pussy. “Morpheus…” You moan, your nipples so hard that every gust of wind feels like the press of his mouth. Playing is a good word for it. Morpheus plays you and your body, teasing you with his hand as he wanders away from your hips and over your chubby belly, always touching, feeling. 

Your back arches in the sand. He’s the only one who can do this to you, you think. The only one you’d let have you in such an open, vulnerable way.

Just when Morpheus reaches the curve of your breast, he leans over you and holds your face with both hands. “You come first.” One of his thumbs hook into your mouth and pull your jaw open. You can feel the pad of the thumb wedged against your teeth.

You feel so delicate and fragile underneath him. So helpless, like a flower he plucked from the ground. Your cunt pulses in time with your rapid heartbeats. “Heed my words. You always come first. For next time,” Morpheus commands softly. He’s dead fucking serious.

Rushing sounds fill your ears. “But-“ You murmur around his fingers. You’re dizzy, drunk on the love painted so boldly on his expression. It’s like a solar eclipse. You can’t look away. You come first. That is what would please Dream more than coming himself. You find yourself nodding along.

When he bends down to kiss your forehead, it feels like a brand. You lean into the warmth and let it soothe you. “Obey me, beloved, and you will be rewarded with anything and everything you desire.” You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth. His spit-covered thumb rests in the hollow of your throat.

Morpheus’s fangs prick your bottom lip and you whimper. It’s so easy to surrender to him and it feels so good. “Do you… enjoy that? Obeying?” He pulls away to ask with an uncharacteristic frown marring his smooth forehead.

You murmur something wordless and begging, then loop your hands around his neck, urging him to return to you. He raises a single eyebrow until finally, you turn your attention to the question instead of pouting over his reluctance to kiss you. “I do. I really- I think I do,” You whisper.

It’s the truth. It feels right. And for the most part- if you’re honest with yourself, for the most part, Dream has never failed you.

How do you reconcile these puzzle pieces together that just don’t fit? With each day, your rage and feelings of betrayal fade. Something new has been growing inside to replace it. A strange longing to throw your principles away and give in.

Morpheus nods soberly. “If you decide to keep me, Basileia, we should discuss this later, at length. I know that the relationship you expect might be different from what I can give you.”

It’s far too easy to read between the lines. “What can you give me?” You are critically, keenly aware of the implications of you asking. Why else would you want to know the conditions of a long term, most likely life-long relationship if Dream has his way, if not to seriously consider them?

Well. You’re seriously considering it.

He spreads his fingers out slightly off-center from your sternum, right over your heart. “What I’ve always given you.” He kisses the tip of your nose. Can you trust him with your heart?

Dream is trying to tell you with his actions that you can. That he wants to cradle your heart so gently and hide away where no one else can hurt it. He’d breathe fire on anyone who tried, even himself.

“Care, above all else,” He murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your hair and you gasp. He kisses your soft, delicate skin covered in goosebumps as an apology.

There are spikes of white in his irises like the points of a star. A single black eyelash rests on his cheekbone. You wipe it away with your fingers, utterly fascinated by this strange new intimacy.

It’s so lovely to feel his radiant smile with your fingertips at the same time as seeing it.

You’ve missed it.

“Tending to.” Another kiss, this one on the edge of your jaw. You blush from your scalp all the way down to your toes.

“Possession. Belonging.” His voice drops to a growl and the fingers over your heart curl into claws. Morpheus buries his face into your throat. Some of his hair gets in your mouth and you giggle as you try to pluck it out. He growls again, this time properly, when you try to dislodge him.

His torso presses yours into the sand. He’s like a tall weighted blanket hiding you from the sight of the celestial bodies above.

One of his claws moves to your waist. They open and close rhythmically. Morpheus is kneading you like a cat. “Let me be your compass so you’ll never feel lost again, let me tend to your every scraped knee and anxiety. Trust me to give you commands for your well-being and to fix things when you make mistakes.”

How long have you waited for someone to say these exact words to you? How many years have you spent dreaming about this very moment, where someone grants you your truest wish; to never have to face the world alone? Not just at your side. In front of you, leading you into the future so you have someone to follow.

Finally, he kisses your lips. A chaste, almost innocent kiss, like between a husband and wife on their wedding day. “All I need is your submission to my authority. It’s too much to ask of you at this moment, but you should know these things about me so you can make your decision in the future,” Morpheus says softly.

All he ever had to do was ask.

“We can talk about it later.” You kiss him back firmly, dragging a low moan out of him.

“You’re not opposed?” He says between kisses, between your fingers threading through his hair and his knee nudging between your legs, giving you something to grind against.

Morpheus freezes when you smile at him, as if he’s been hit by lightning. “I’m not,” You promise, your eyes shining more than they ever have before.

He exhales an amused huff. He’s laughing at himself, you realize. “Later then, my queen.” He’s been so silly and wasted so much time. You laugh too, until the two of you are just giggling helplessly in the sand.

He strokes your belly for a moment, then bends and places his cheek over the curve where your baby is growing. Crickets sing and fireflies chase each other through the night sky. Something moist touches your belly. When he lifts his head, he tries to wipe away tears before you notice. You reach for him and dab them away yourself.

“I hope the baby has your eyes,” You whisper.

Morpheus’s hands are as warm as his smile, like a little candle flame in the dark flickering on its own. “I hope the baby looks like you, so the world can see how much I love its mother.”

Maybe his smile will light your way back to each other.

His face is the first thing to shift. His gaze narrows, his mouth flattens into a severe, imperious expression. “Now, where were we?” His muscles coil and tense as he rears up on his knees. His marble skin stretches taught over his prominent bones.

You suddenly remember watching him disintegrate the nightmare that haunted you so, how Morpheus took pleasure when it screamed in pain. This is the god-king, the careless devil, the eater of worlds.

He kisses your knee while massaging the strained muscles in your calf. “You- you were… ah… Morpheus, I can’t focus when you do that.” Your voice is hushed in prayer to the only god you care for. He kisses your thigh again, slightly above your kneecap.

You spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging for more of his attention. “I was instructing you on the importance of obedience, I believe.” He blows a soft puff of air across your heated cunt, and you squirm in the sand. The cold only heightens how sensitive you are.

Morpheus leans in to lick the trail of arousal that has been steadily dripping down your thigh all evening. He laps at your skin over and over in tiny kitten licks.

He waits until you’re looking at him to moan into your skin, his eyes wild with hunger. Another, longer lap of his tongue, still holding eye contact. He can’t get enough of your juices. He wants you to know how much he wants you. Morpheus wants you to witness his devotion. Not want- he commands it.

And still, he won’t touch your pussy. “That feels so good,” You whimper. You draw your legs towards you to try and urge him towards your core. Morpheus teases his fangs along your flesh. You can feel how sharp they are, how easy it would be for him to bite and puncture your skin. He would never, but the suggestion is enough to get your blood running hot.

Morpheus rises up between your legs to grab the long column of your throat. “As much as I love your voice, right now I’d like to hear it only when you’re screaming my name. Understood? Nod for me.” Your mouth waters as you nod. “Good girl.”

You almost feel like crying. This evening has been such a fucking rollercoaster and here you are, getting dicked down for the whole world to see. And Morpheus adores you so much that he wants to possess every part of you, to make you completely beholden to his will.

He releases your throat before grasping one of your heavy tits, palming it greedily. “Your body was made to be adored by me, to be loved and worshiped,” Dream hisses. He swats at your breast, catching your painfully sensitive nipple with the tips of his fingers.

You jerk upright and moan in surprise, making an embarrassing, slutty, needy sound. Pain and pleasure radiate from your swollen nipple and as much as you want to cower away, you want Dream to do it again…

He slaps your neglected other breast and you gasp, tears finally beading in the corner of your eyes. Your cunt drips all the way down to the sand under your ass. You pant, your tits bouncing with the moment. The motion draws an equal groan out of Morpheus and the desire burning in his blue eyes frightens you.

Morpheus leans forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks gently, flicking his tongue over the hard, pebbled bud, and you arch your back. He switches to your untouched nipple, sucking and kissing over and over as you shiver and whine beneath him. Maybe he wants to make you come like this, untouched except for the sweet torture he’s subjecting your tits to. You try to grind your hips against his leg, to give your pulsing clit some relief, but he hisses and pushes your hips down with more force than you expect. Message received, though it turns you on even more.

You’re pinned down and there’s nothing you can do but submit. “I am utterly enamored by your breasts, your rich and luscious thighs, and the feel of your soft belly under my fingertips,” Morpheus tells you when he lifts his head. His hand makes good upon his word. His fingers caress your stomach, not just the roundness of your growing baby, but the folds of skin and fat that come with a body like yours, that the rest of the world often finds unattractive.

But he is Endless. The god of dreams himself. Humanity’s mirror cut out of black glass. And your body is so desirable to him that he knocked you up the first time and fucks you like he can somehow get you more pregnant each time. Morpheus kisses the skin below your belly button and you have a feeling that tonight, the whole universe is dreaming of you.

He raises his head and reaches out his fingers to tap against your kiss-swollen lips. “Dampen these for me,” Dream orders. They’re glistening with your saliva by the time he pulls them out of your mouth.

You prop your torso up on your elbows and watch Morpheus inhale quietly as he brushes the pad of his thumb over your clit. You bite back a combined moan of relief and surprise. He does it again, waiting for your hips to jolt and your eyes to flutter. His fingers caress your slick folds, luxuriating in the volume of shiny, sticky arousal that has dripped out of you. He kneels there for a long moment, just playing with you, and your lungs seize when he lingers too long rubbing your clit.

Then Morpheus very unceremoniously shoves one of his palms under your ass, tilting your pelvis up so he can eat you out better. His tongue wanders over your clit and between the folds he was so fascinated by earlier.

You cry out into the night, looking up at the stars while Dream makes you see stars. You moan again and desperately clutch for his hair so you can grind your clit into his mouth. He mutters something to himself, completely lost under your whimpers, before slipping two long fingers into your tight cunt. He sets a fast though gentle rhythm immediately, carefully curling his fingers inside you to stroke your walls as he fucks you with them. Each one of your cries is rewarded with the hot, wet pressure of his tongue or his fingers brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you. It’s almost like Morpheus is trying to make you come faster than you ever have before-

For a single, blindingly bright moment, your lungs stop. You can’t breathe. Your stomach wrenches violently and your walls squeeze his fingers so tight they start to slip out. “Come,” Morpheus demands, his gaze furious and fixated on your slack, pleasure-drunk face. Your pussy opens for his fingers and this time his grip on your thighs is too firm to wriggle out of, forcing you headfirst into the riptide of your orgasm.

Your high-pitched scream rings in your ears and you slump into the ground, boneless and exhausted. Morpheus withdraws his fingers and licks your folds clean, shushing you when you whine from the jolts of overstimulation moving through you. You’re so tired, but it feels so good.

He leans in for one more taste. This time, you tense and push his head away. Your clit is still humming with faint, delicious aftershocks, and even his breath puffing across your swollen folds is painful. Morpheus apologetically kisses your hip. “I could spend eons buried between your legs. Tasting you, touching you, inside of you. Perhaps I should relinquish the Dreaming to some other god so I can spend the rest of eternity serving you, hm? Would my queen enjoy that?”

Pebbles and sand dig into your back but you barely notice. You’re too busy blushing the darkest shade of red possible at the vivid imagery and his unrepentant lust. His smile is wicked. You’re both thinking the exact same thing - you perched on the throne next time, and Morpheus making you come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you can. Knowing him, probably until you black out.

You open your mouth to say something, but his command from earlier holds fast. You want to obey.

Then he nods, releasing you from it.

“Holy shit, I’ve never come that quickly before,” You sigh.

Morpheus straightens up and squares his shoulders. “I know,” He fires back with a lewd smirk, his lips still damp with your juices. Morpheus moans softly as you kiss him. You sweep the rest of your arousal off of his lips with your tongue, your own salty taste filling your senses.

You understand all those little offhand quips now, all the various odd remarks under Dream’s breath about your life and dreams. He knows. Literally. He has stood there in the back of your dreams and watched.

His cock is angrily hard against his pale thigh, flushed red with blood. Morpheus likes to watch. A shiver runs through you. Not a bad one. An eager one. “Fuck you,” You bite back. He’s never looked more beautiful to you, all messy dark hair and your crimson love bites dotting his pale skin.

After too many drawn-out whines and your hands eagerly tugging at his hips, much too far away from yours, Morpheus holds your thighs down. If you were more flexible, you’d have your knees pushed up to your tits.

Starlight shines between strands of his hair, surrounding his face like a dark halo.

Your lips part, wordlessly begging for a kiss. His broad shoulders press you further into the soft sand and he kisses you with fervor. “Be good,” Dream murmurs into your ear.

He eases his cock inside of you slowly. You gasp, your eyelids flutter. He rests his head against your temple, panting as your muscles flutter around his length. His hips cant forward again, nudging your clit. You clutch his shoulders to drag him deeper into your embrace. Your whole world narrows to just Morpheus; the weight of him against your ribs, the whole night sky contained in his eyes, the scent of his skin, his thick cock sinking as deep into your cunt as it can go.

You make a choked, keening noise when he shifts and inadvertently brushes against your g-spot. Maybe not so inadvertently. Morpheus does it again, languidly rolling his hips in a drawn out rhythm. Your stretched cunt milks him, trying to keep him with you, inside of you.

He buries his face in your hair spread out under your head. You feel his moans rumble in the crook of your neck, deep and desperate. It’s too much, too good, like blue flame burning in your veins, and you can practically feel him in your belly.

“Morpheus,” you sob, raking your fingernails down his back, anything to ground you, to keep you from losing your mind as he fucks you, forcing you to feel every inch sliding in and out.

Dream growls, gripping your hips so tightly he’ll leave faint bruises. He rests his forehead on your own and his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure. They shoot open when you scream, your whole body trembling. “Tight, fuck, so tight, feels good- that’s it, darling…” You hear him murmur, voice so low that he’s talking more to himself than to you. It’s like he’s praying to you, worshiping you at the altar of your body.

You spread your legs wider and meet each thrust, moaning in unison with him. The words “Love you-“ steal from your mouth like a thief, fleeing before you register they’re gone.

One of his hands slips between your hips to play with your needy clit. He circles the pads of his fingers over and over across your bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your whole body. The full length of his dick thrusts into you at the same exact time and you forget how to breathe; you can feel how tight the fit is, almost painful but not quite, riding that razor-thin edge of pleasure. A rush of slick gushes from your core and smears onto his skin.

Your head lolls back as your vision starts to go hazy around the edges. “Look at me,” Morpheus’s voice orders. You blink once, twice, too overstimulated to focus.

“Morpheus-“ You sigh breathily. “Ah-“ He switches how he plays with your clit, now teasing you with light, gentle touches so you can listen to him instead of being too cockdrunk to think.

Your lips parts, your tongue tastes the hot, tropical air filled with moans and lust. “Look at me.” You do. His eyes are so blue and bright that they almost blind you. His thrusts grow rougher, faster, and you shake in his embrace and wrap one of your legs around his hips to get closer.

The great, deep blue of the night sky, scattered with stars, is pinning you down and kissing your mouth. The wine-dark ocean lies between your thighs and fucks you mindless, pushing and pulling inside you like the tide.

High, keening noises fall from your open mouth. Your cunt sucks him in, pulsing around his length. Pleasure wracks your body, rushing through your nerves like white lightning. And still you stare up at him and the love for you that he wears so raw and undisguised on his godlike, unfathomably beautiful face.

You’re so close that you can almost taste it, you feel your stomach wrench and your thighs tighten around his hips. “Fuck, that’s it, make yourself feel good. Take what you need.” The sound of his low, raspy voice in your ear guiding you, talking you through it, tips you over the delicious, overwhelming edge.

Every muscle in your body holds itself taut as your orgasm shakes you like an earthquake. You bite into his shoulder hard enough to fill your mouth with golden blood. Your lungs fucking ache from screaming into his skin. He holds your hips down, never pausing the furious pace of his thrusts, and your cunt convulses once, twice. Your mind goes foggy and finally, finally, you can breathe again.

Morpheus comes as your body unlocks, the feeling of your pleasure around his cock too much for his self-control. He clutches onto you desperately, even tilts his head to the side to welcome your bite. Sticky warmth floods your body, once more marking you as his. Hardly a single drop of cum trickles from where he’s buried deep inside of you.

You whine as he suddenly pulls away from you, only to arrange himself on the beach next to you so he doesn’t squish your bump further. You rest your head on Morpheus’s arm and the two of you lie there for a while with intertwined hands as his index finger traces the veins on the back of your hand. The breeze feels cool on your skin - the feverish tropical heat has broken its grasp on your mind and your thoughts are no longer clouded and instinct-driven.

Dream speaks softly, almost fearfully quiet. “You said you loved me.” His fingertip stills where it is on your hand, and you keenly feel the loss of that simple affectionate gesture.

“I…” You begin before stopping just as suddenly. White noise echoes in your ears, a strange buzzing that grows and grows and keeps you from turning to see his face. You’re afraid, you realize.

“If you do not truly feel that way, don’t say it. Ever again. Please. I can’t-“ His voice breaks, breaking the static holding your tongue prisoner with it.

What are you afraid of? The truth?

No, you are not.

You pull your hand away from his. “Morpheus.” When you meet his eyes, he looks away.

He’s rambling now, panicked, rushing to get the words out before it’s too late. “I couldn’t bear it. Anything else. Tell me anything else.”

It’s not too late.

Your hand cradles his angular cheek. Pale blue veins stretch under his skin from his eye to his temple. You are the only person he will let close enough to see them, you realize. “I love you,” You say, waiting long enough to see Morpheus actually register it before leaning in to kiss him. You mean it, cross your heart.

YAAAY WE'RE IN THE KISS AND MAKE UP ERA NOW!!! Thanks everyone so much for reading, we're finally making progress. I'm really excited for what's coming next. See y'all next year!