#Silent Cal

[deadpresidents]

"[President] Coolidge chose to celebrate July 4 [1927] -- which also happened to be his fifty-fifth birthday -- by remaining in South Dakota, where he was having the time of his life. In recognition of all the publicity he was generating with his trip, the state of South Dakota presented him on his birthday with a cowboy outfit and horse. Named Kit, the horse was charitably described as 'spirited.' It was in fact all but untamed. The President, who was by no means a horseman was prudently kept well away from it. Instead his delighted attention was focused on his other main present -- a cowboy outfit consisting of a ten-gallon hat, bright red shirt, capacious blue neckerchief, chaps, boots, and spurs. Coolidge retired to put it all on and emerged clankingly, and a little clumsily, in the full regalia a few minutes later. He looked ridiculous, but very proud, and posed happily for photographers, who could not believe their luck. 'Here was one of the great comic scenes in American history,' wrote Robert Benchley in The New Yorker that week.

Coolidge loved that outfit and wore it for the rest of the summer whenever he could. According to lodge staff, he often changed into it in the evening after his more formal day's duties were done, and for a few hours ceased to be the most important man in America and instead was just a happy cowpoke."

-- Bill Bryson, on President Calvin Coolidge's genuine love for an utterly goofy cowboy outfit given to him as a birthday gift during a vacation in the Black Hills of South Dakota in July 1927, recounted in Bryson's book One Summer: America, 1927 (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO).

[feketeribizli]

team (yeehaw) dinoco

[wilting-fl0wer]

Sol as pyramid head for Halloween! (half-assed sketch)

Cal likes their costume a lot :]

[soullessjack]

recent things since my arm is getting better :3c

no reposts w/o permission thank u

[writeittypeit]

I havent drawn cere junda because her death in survivor devastated me.

Cal didnt talk to her for YEARS and THEN they find a mutual understanding and THEN and THEN

No

i cannot go on

[chamaleonsoul]

Shit™ Calum Hood does

[mushiewrites]

Sleepy Experiments

It is officially lee!George week! :D I'm so excited I finally got to do something like this - I've had this idea since @fluffallamaful did an incredible lee!Dream MONTH last June, and truthfully I've wanted to do this since last August but....better late than never, right? 😇 I also wanna just thank @awkwardtickleetoo for helping me with everything - prompts, ideas, proof reading, etc. Cal is literally there for me always and Im so grateful for him, he truly is my lil knight ):

day 1 - soft tickles / prompts found here!

(lee!George / ler!Dream : 3.8K words)

“Dream! Stohop!” George was met with yet another poke to his side, jerking his body to the left to escape Dream’s finger. He let out a sigh in fake frustration, fully aware that Dream was bound to become bored as they’d been attempting to nap with no success for a little while now. George had almost drifted to sleep multiple times, but every single time he did, he was met with a poke from the restless blonde boy.

“George! I cahan’t!” The elder couldn’t help but giggle at the mocking as Dream leaned his cheek against his right palm, elbow propped onto the bed beside him while he wiggled his free pointer finger in the air in front of George’s face to tease him. The brunette quickly swatted it away, making Dream let out a huff of amused air through his nose before making a move to poke George again. “Just a little!”

“Nohoho! Leave mehehe alone!” 

“Come on, Georgie, please? I promise I’ll be reaaaaally gentle. And maybe it’ll help me sleep!” Dream stuck out his bottom lip as far as it would go as he held out his words, the pout matching the puppy dog eyes he was using to melt the Brit. George let his head fall back onto the pillow beneath him, letting out a groan and bringing his right arm up to cover his eyes to prevent him from seeing how closely Dream was focusing on him. 

“I- I mean- why? Just- …ugh, fine.” George winced when Dream let out a squeal of excitement, dropping his arm back against the blankets and cracking an eye open to see Dream quickly push himself into a kneeling position beside him. “You have to be so gentle though, Dream! I mean it! One wrong move and you’re done.”

“I promise to be so gentle!” The blonde smiled at the warning, tapping George’s thigh twice before continuing. “Do you mind turning over for me, George?” 

George felt his cheeks fill with warmth, nodding his head with a quiet whine as he adjusted himself to lay on his tummy. He felt the familiar weight of the younger boy settling on the back of his thighs, jumping slightly when Dream hooked two fingers under his shirt and began revealing the pale skin beneath it. He felt goosebumps spread across the expanse of his back as the cool air blanketed every inch of it, making him squirm slightly with a shiver and growling at Dream when he giggled at the involuntary movement. 

“Do you really have to lift my shirt up for this?” His voice was more high pitched than he expected it to be and swallowed thickly, looking over his shoulder at Dream and coughing slightly to adjust it back to the normal tone. “I mean, it seems a bit excessive.” 

Dream let out a scoff at the passive protest, tilting his head slightly to the right when he saw the tips of George’s ears turning a light pink. He chuckled as he continued to slowly drag the black T-shirt up until it was sitting just below the bottom of his shoulder blades. George felt the fabric glide lightly across his skin when Dream released his grip, making him squirm briefly at the soft tickly feeling. 

“Oh George, if that bothered you, how are you gonna handle the actual tickles?” Dream cooed, smiling as the smaller boy began to squirm a little more at the thought of the soft tickles that awaited him. Dream swiped a pointer finger just below both his shoulder blades and chuckled when the smaller boy screeched, pushing his face into the pillow and muffling a nervous giggle that he couldn’t keep in any longer.

“Wahatch it! I can stop this right now, you know!” George threatened as he adjusted his arms, folding them underneath the pillow before laying his head back down against the soft fabric. 

“What?! No! Please don’t!” The tone of his voice sent a small dagger into George’s chest, melting him instantly. He knew that Dream was fully joking, but the fake hurt in the younger’s voice made George want to let Dream tickle him forever.

“I…I won’t,” He sighed in defeat. “Just…be careful, okay?” 

George was met with a small chuckle in response, giggling himself when he felt Dream’s fingers touch down just under his shoulder blades and wiggle lightly against the warm skin there. He twisted his fists up into the pillowcase, squeezing the fabric between his fingers in an attempt to keep his arms raised.

Dream continued to softly skitter his fingers over George’s back, spreading his hands further apart to trail up and down the sides of his spine. He arched into the bed as Dream’s right pointer finger traced back up his spine and between his shoulder blades, giggling harder and kicking his feet against the covers a few times to relieve some of the tickly energy that was coursing through his body.

“You’re cute when you’re all squirmy like this.” The blonde stated, no teasing tone to be found in his voice. This only further proved to fluster George as his face grew hotter, making him turn to fully bury his face into the pillow. 

“Shuhut up!” George’s giggles were quickly morphed to cackles as Dream used both pointer fingers to walk under his shirt, scratching lightly at the sides of his armpits and following George whichever way he twisted. 

“It’s the truth! What am I supposed to do, lie to you?” Dream giggled from his spot on George’s thighs, flattening his palms and dragging them slowly down before spidering his fingers along the boy’s lower back. The brunette jumped in surprise at the sudden tickling, giggling harder and visibly struggling more and more the longer Dream focused there.

“Ahaha, please! I- Dreheheam! Gehehentle, plehease!” 

“Thihis is gentle! I’m not sure I could get any more gentle if I tried!” Despite his rebuttal, Dream pressed his palms down again into the pink skin of George’s lower back and began rubbing to help soothe the tingly feeling. 

“Thahahank you!” George’s laughter was slowly calming down, the pitch raised into tiny squeaks but becoming less frequent as the time passed. Dream felt his own cheeks filling with heat at the reply, rarely experiencing that level of politeness from the Brit. He leaned his body slightly to the left  to look at George, feeling his stomach fill with butterflies at how wide his smile was, and how happy he looked with his eyes squeezed and nose scrunched. 

“Anything for you, my little prince.” He was met with a high pitched whine followed by chirpy giggles, making Dream’s tiny grin grow into a full blown toothy grin.

After sitting back on George’s thighs again, adjusting himself to balance comfortably, Dream used his pointer and middle fingers from both hands and slowly walked them up George’s back, pressing in and wiggling slightly as they continued their journey from his lower back to just under his shoulder blades once more.

“I didn’t realize how sensitive your back was, Georgie. And here I am, just thinking I was the only one cursed with this weakness!” He continued to speak as he made little swirls with his fingers on the sides of George’s back, careful to not tickle too much over his back ribs in fear of disturbing the smaller boy’s state of sleepy bliss he was caught in. “I hope you know I’ll remember this.” 

“Whahahatever!” The brunette exclaimed, wiggling slightly as the soft tickling continued under his shirt and around his shoulder blades. He scrunched his shoulders up as high as they would go, shaking his head back and forth as tickly circles were drawn around the sensitive bones of his upper back, hugging the pillow as tightly as he could as a source of comfort.

The younger boy hummed in response, a smile clear in the tone as he removed his hands from under the shirt and made his way back down to the dimples of George’s back, tracing and skittering all ten of his fingers as he went. As much as he loved the sound of George’s cackling, squealing and giggling, he didn’t want to tire the boy out too soon. After another minute of gentle tickles around the sides of his lower back, Dream flattened his palms again and began to rub the entirety of George’s back, helping to calm him and work him through the giggles that continued to pour from him. 

Dream eventually made his way to George’s shoulders, helping relax them back down from being pressed up against his ears. He used his hands to squeeze the muscles there every few seconds, giving George a gentle massage as his giggles slowly dissolved. The blonde noticed how small George looked beneath him, his hands completely engulfing his shoulders and making Dream let out a chuckle at how tiny he actually was. George let out a contented sigh, ignoring the giggle and turning his head to lay his cheek on the blankets comfortably, closing his eyes just moments later. George could feel himself drifting off to sleep when suddenly his eyes shot open, Dream’s hands having moved closer to his neck and sending a horribly tickly sensation to his nerves. 

“Wait, whahat?! Nohoho!” The elder scrunched his shoulders up and attempted to block the sensitive muscle where his shoulders and base of his neck met, clearly surprised at how much it affected him. 

“Awh, what’s wrong, sweetheart, does someone have a sensitive neck?” 

“You knohohow I do!” 

The brunette buried his head into the blankets below him once again as he let out a squeal, feeling Dream’s fingers walking up the sides of his neck until he was directly under his ears on both sides. He began to gently flutter his fingers in the hypersensitive area, giggling to himself when George’s laughter rose in pitch until it was nothing but bright chirps and loud squeaks. 

“Listen to you, George! You’re like a little bird!” The older boy groaned through his giggles at the comment, not knowing whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that though as a tiny raspberry was suddenly placed below his right ear, making him screech and attempt to bring up his shoulder again. Unfortunately for George, Dream’s chin blocked it and another small raspberry was placed in the same spot. 

“NAHAHA P-PLEHEASE! G-Gehehentle, Dream!” 

The skitters against his skin turned into gentle rubs, taming George’s giggles almost instantly and allowing him to relax back into the touch.

“I know, I know. I just can’t help myself, George. You’re too cute when you get all scrunchy.” Dream giggled at his own words as he watched George melt into the blankets beneath him. He moved his pointer fingers to swipe at the shell of George’s ear to hear him squeal again before rubbing the ghost tickles out immediately after the action. 

“W-Well, you’re ahahan idiot!” 

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot. So that makes up for it, right?” 

George could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice and refused to answer out of spite, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing the stupid remark had made me smile, too. After a few more minutes of Dream soothingly rubbing over George’s shoulders, he tapped on the smaller boy’s back a few times to get his attention. 

“Is it okay if you turn onto your back for me? I wanna try something else.” The blonde was met with a small whine in response, but lifted himself slightly off of George’s thighs when Dream felt him begin to turn over anyway. Dream’s grin only grew when George flashed him a death glare, watching as he flopped himself down onto his back with an eye roll. 

“There. Happy?” 

Dream raised an eyebrow at the question as he looked George’s torso up and down, shaking his head slightly in disapproval as he lowered himself back onto George’s thighs. His eyes were glued to George’s shirt, which had fallen back down to cover his tummy as the smaller boy maneuvered himself just seconds before.

“I would be, but you messed up your shirt! Now I have to pull it up again.” Dream sighed in feigned annoyance. He made sure to meet George’s gaze as he slowly began to push his shirt up once again, this time stopping at the middle of his ribs and dragging his fingers down his sides once he was satisfied with the amount of tummy exposed. The brunette writhed with a high pitched giggle at the tracing on his sides, bringing his hands up to hide his face out of embarrassment. 

Dream slowly skittered his fingers lightly over George’s lower tummy, feeling the smaller boy squirm a little more than he had been as he kicked his feet pathetically against the bed behind him. The blonde used his pointer fingers to continue to trace up and down the sides of George’s tummy, listening to the many different types of giggles it produced while George continued to squirm. The elder did his best to try and allow the tickling, stopping his hands every time they moved from his face to try and grab Dream’s hands on instinct. 

“Do you know you scrunch your nose sometimes when you laugh?” Dream commented nonchalantly, making the blush from George’s cheeks spread to the tips of his ears and down the front of his neck. 

“I dohohn’t!” 

“And you blush like crazy. Right now you’re like a little rose, your cheeks are so red! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! My little blushy baby.”

“SHUT UHUHP!” George removed his hands from the safety of his own face and lunged forward, trying his best to clamp them over Dream’s mouth but squealing when his wrists were scooped up into one of the blonde’s big hands instead. 

“Oh, you want me to tickle your palms? You could’ve just asked, gorgeous!” Dream brought his chin down and began to lightly drag his beard over George’s palms, making him break out into bright cackles as he threw his head back. 

“N-Nahaha please! Nohohot there!” 

Dream knew that George had extremely sensitive palms, but also knew they worked incredibly well as melt spots when done correctly. Dream continued to slowly drag his chin back and forth over George’s hands until he felt the small fingers relax against his own cheeks, smiling and letting George press his fingers into them as he giggled along with the elder. 

“Dreheheam!” 

The blonde could tell that George was getting embarrassed, giggling quietly as he watched him squeeze his eyes shut while he attempted to hide his face into one of his shoulders. Dream decided to take pity on him, smile wide as he pulled back slightly to stop the tickling. 

“Okahay, okay. I guess I’m done experimenting....” Dream spoke with fake disappointment as moved his chin from its place hovering over George’s hands, holding them in his own and using both of thumbs to rub against George’s to help calm him. 

“Thahahank God.” He dropped his head back down against the pillow as he closed his eyes with a contented sigh, intending on allowing the rest of the giggles to run their course while he attempted to relax again. Dream raised an eyebrow at that, taking it as a small challenge and smirking when a new plan formed in his head.

“But actually, you know what? Maybe not!” Dream spoke suddenly, fingers releasing George’s hands and allowing both of his own to fall down to rest on the tops of his thighs.

“Wahahait, why?!” George felt a slight panic at the idea of more tickles after everything he’d already been put through, bringing his hands back to himself and crossing both arms over his torso for protection.

“I just realized I never got your poor little feet! How could I forget them, they need just as much attention as the rest of you, don’t they?”

“What?! Nohoho! We- We’re supposed tohoho be nahahapping!” George was quick to protest, launching his hands forward and gripping onto Dream’s wrists as tight as he could to keep him in place. Dream’s grin grew wider at that reaction, getting the desired results and deciding to continue the teasing.

“I could even do that thing you like so much!” Dream flashed him a smile as he ignored George’s words, only interested in continuing the topic he had introduced. George knew by asking he would only get more flustered, but he was too curious and too stubborn to allow Dream to get away with gatekeeping whatever thought he was currently having at his own expense. 

“...What thing…?” He was hesitant, his voice wavering when the question finally spilled out moments later. The blonde giggled brightly at that, pulling at his arms a little to feel that George still had a tight grasp on them.

“Well,” Dream began to explain, shrugging his shoulders as he thought for a moment before continuing. “You know that thing. The shoe thing! The one where I take one off and leave one on?”

“Dre- NMM HMM?!” George opened his mouth to speak, but Dream was quick to break out of the smaller boy’s grip, placing a hand over his mouth to muffle the protests as he continued. 

“To be gentle, of course! Not for any other reason. And then I’d take the one sock off, too. And I’d leave the other foot alone, still protected. Isn’t that nice of me, only focusing on one foot instead of two?”

George let go of the wrist he still was holding and grabbed the hand over his mouth, pulling it off and flinging it away from himself as far as Dream would let it go. He quickly brought his arms up and flung them over his face once again as he felt his cheeks grow hotter by the second. George was shaking his head quickly, not saying anything verbally out of fear his voice would sound small and weak from how flustered he was.

“You can relax, I’m just teasing. That’s a little too intense for you for it to be considered gentle, isn’t it, sweetheart? You’re just too ticklish and too flustered, huh?” 

“What?! Dream, just- whahatever, shut up!” George whined behind his arms, letting out a small hiccup in surprise when Dream gripped his elbows and lowered his arms to reveal his face. He opened his eyes and was met with bright green ones staring back, rolling his own and pushing at Dream’s chest to move him back slightly.

“Alrihight, angel, I’m done tormenting you…for now.” The blonde adjusted himself from straddling George’s thighs to kneeling next to him again, this time pressing his knees against George’s side in an attempt to stay connected. 

“More like forever.” George made a move to sit up as he mumbled under his breath, pushing himself up onto his elbows only to fall back against the bed suddenly when he felt rapid squeezes digging into his inner thighs. He let out a wail and thrashed around frantically, his legs kicking out and arms flailing in every direction. 

“NAHAHAHA! D-DREHEHEHEAM NOHOHO!” One of George’s hands gripped tightly into the comforter below him, pulling at it and trying his best to keep his arms to himself in an attempt to save himself from slapping Dream and making the tickling far worse than it already was.

The pinching stopped as quickly as it had started, allowing George to take in deep gulps of air as he continued to laugh himself silly. He pressed his knees together as he turned to the left side, curling in on himself and bringing a hand down to wedge between his inner thighs in an attempt to tame the ghost tickles that were still flowing throughout his legs. His free hand was covering the side of his face that was visible to Dream, attempting to keep the blonde from seeing George’s rapidly growing blush.

“I’m sorry, but I had to! You were getting cocky with me,” The blonde giggled, stretching his left arm out and placing it on the smaller boy’s arm and rubbing it soothingly to try and help calm his nerves. He let out a bright giggle when George jolted at the sudden touch, clearly anticipating more tickles. Dream moved his hand up George’s arm and into the older boy’s hair, gently ruffling it. “But it was only for a second! I promise I’m done now, baby.”

“Ohohonly a second?! It’s my thighs, Dreheheam! You know how they are!” George rolled his eyes as he moved his hand to reveal his face, barely meeting Dream’s gaze. He felt a chill run down his spine as soon as the words passed his lips, noticing the flame they ignited in Dream’s eyes as he stared down at him with a smirk.

“Oh yeah? Do I know how they are, Georgie?” The brunette squirmed at the words, moving to cover his face once again to hide himself from Dream.

“Yes!” George spat back in annoyance, feeling his face heat up once again at the teasing tone in the younger boy’s voice. George felt the bed dip and suddenly he felt lips against the shell of his ear, barely grazing it and causing him to yelp. He made a move to cover the spot with his hand instead, but Dream had anticipated this and was quick to lightly grip George’s wrist, keeping it where it was against his blushy cheek.

“Hmmm…maybe I do. But don’t worry! We can explore that another day, just to make sure I really know,” Dream purred into his ear, making George let out a high pitched whine from the sudden closeness of the blonde. “Preferably on a day where I’m feeling particularly cruel. Does that sound good, kitten?”

Dream released his grip on the tiny wrist in his hand, chuckling when the brunette scrambled to sit up while the blonde made a move to crawl to the edge of the bed. George could do nothing but watch with wide eyes as the younger boy stood up, making his way towards the door with a mischievous look on his face; like he was immediately planning George’s demise. 

“W-What about our nap?” 

“How could I possibly sleep now when I have, like, ten different ideas on how to absolutely wreck you floating around in my head? I’ll nap later.” Dream turned around one last time to flash him a teasy smile before exiting the bedroom and disappearing down the hallway, leaving George bright faced and breathless, anxiously sitting with the many questions that swirled through his mind of what Dream could possibly do to further tear him into ticklish little shreds.

[aerticent]

what if i died

[callilouv]

nocuzimeantwhydonttheycareaboutursleepschedulesorry

they don’t know that i stay up this late 😭🤞

[alicecoopersbush]

do you guys ever feel completely incompetent and useless playing games with people

[woahjo]

yesss its so good. they also probably will update again soon im just being dramatic cause its goos af and i be refreshing every night when i get back to my dorm and get sad when it still says 14/? lol

-jjk hunger games anon 🤩

ur so me, anon

[tuneonin]

There's silence as he listens. No commentary, no buzzing of annoyed static. Just a steady signal indicating he's still present. A few seconds are given after the last sentence, in case Germain has anything more to say. Deeming him done, Florentine finally speaks.

"The other two you've described certainly do sound positively dreadful — at least, as far as being a Radio Demon is concerned. For entertainment, however, is a different story. I will agree that I was ignorant of other versions of myself and my reality until you reached out, and I will also agree that you are, indeed, very amusing! I wasn't lying when I said I hadn't laughed that hard in ages!

"As for the claim of my fawning over you? I highly doubt it! While I do greatly enjoy your company, and do value your advice to a certain point, and while it is true I've valued Vox's approval in the past, at the end of it all, there is only one person in existence that I aim to satisfy as completely as I am able. There is only one person that matters.

"That person..." That's a literal drumroll playing from Flor's end. "...is myself!" There's a short-lived bout of fanfare and canned applause before he continues.

"I truly cannot picture myself throwing my own value at your feet for appraisal like the other two shmucks you've described. You don't know me very well yet, true, but I know who I am, and I am not deplorable. Callous, revolting, conceited? All perfectly valid descriptors — but pathetic? HO HO! Not I!"

"Of course — you'll just have to stick around and find that out for yourself, won't you? And I do hope that's the case! Our conversations have been the highlights of my day lately!"

　" HAH! " Germain actually snorts when he laughs this time. " I've met more of us over these waves than I could count! Some of them are boring, plain, pathetic, barely worth the waste of energy it took to tune in to their station! Others not so much. A washed - up, simpering little fawn, tamed so badly his teeth are practically filed! And oh, how he trips over himself to impress me, and I'd wager anyone else who finds themselves unlucky enough to stumble across his path! Treats his followers like family rather than what they are, and would probably bend over backwards for Miss Morningstar if it meant he could have a chance at redemption. "

　" Another one was actually so fragile that I convinced the poor sap to sign his soul over to me! How he ended up in Hell is a mystery to me, as frail as he is! Cries at the drop of a hat, and hangs on my every word like it's the only thing that can sustain him! Childish, meek, and pathetic. I intend to have quite a bit of fun with him eventually. "

　" And then there's you! Lest we forget that you had no idea of the existence of this little realm of magic until I reached out to you! Your domesticated squabbling was enough to draw MY attention, I can only imagine what other beasts it might have attracted if I hadn't found you first! And aren't I just a gas? Eventually, you'll fawn over me too, and we'll see your true colors! And my dearest Florentine, as much as I like you so far... YOU'RE NOT MEETING THE STANDARDS JUST YET. "

[soullessjack]

what if we were moody emotional sarcastic teenage god figures struggling with our identity and place in the world wearing cunty orange turtlenecks and experiencing the horrors and we were both girls

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.6k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: pls ignore any grammar/spelling errors if so, I wrote some of this on my phone series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

You’re silent for a moment. Firstly, caught off guard by this woman stopping you from your responsibilities, but also the fact that she seems to be regarding you with such disgust. Do you know who I am? That question pisses you off. Should you say yes? Or no? Instead, you straighten up, scrutinizing her right back. Long, pretty brown hair. Hazel eyes. Pink lips. Expensive clothing. Damn it, she’s pretty. 

“Should I?” Perfect balance between the two options. 

Her lip curves up into a bitter smile, pushing past you into the penthouse with no apologies. This causes you to stumble back slightly before finding your stance again, turning around to face the woman as she paces Satoru’s apartment with a wave of confidence. Almost more than the man himself. “Where is he?”

“Satoru is at work,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Himari pauses mid-step, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she turns to face you. Her eyes scan the apartment briefly before landing back on you, sharp and assessing. She raises an eyebrow, her expression one of disbelief, as if your answer isn’t good enough for her. "At work?" she echoes, her tone laced with skepticism. "And you’re here, what, playing house in his absence?"

Your jaw tightens, her words cutting deeper than you’d like to admit. "I’m here because of my son," you snap, arms still crossed as you try to maintain your composure. "I don’t owe you an explanation."

Himari’s lips curl into a now mocking smile as she slowly approaches you, her expensive perfume wafting in the air between you. "You’re right. You don’t owe me an explanation. But you do owe it to yourself to figure out where you stand in all of this. Because trust me," her voice lowers, dripping with condescension, "whatever this is? It’s temporary."

You feel your anger rising, but you swallow it down, unwilling to let her see that she’s getting under your skin. "I think you’re confused," you say, keeping your voice steady despite the fire in your chest. "This isn’t about me or you—it’s about Koji spending time with his father. And I’m not going to stand here and let you try to turn it into something else."

Her expression hardens, and for a brief moment, the mask of superiority slips, revealing a flash of something you can’t quite place. Jealousy? Fear? "Koji," she repeats, almost spitting the name out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. "Is that the name of the little brat that’s ruining everything?"

“Watch your mouth,” a motherly wave of protection instantly befalls you at her choice of words. 

“Why should I? That kid is nothing but a—”

Your hands tighten into fists at your sides, and your voice hardens. “I said, watch your mouth. I won’t let you badmouth my child.”

Himari’s eyes widen slightly, the mask of composure slipping even further as she takes in your reaction. For a moment, she looks almost startled, as if she hadn’t expected you to bite back. But just as quickly, she recovers, crossing her arms and tilting her head with a sneer. “Touchy, aren’t we?” she says, her tone sharp. “I’m just calling it how I see it. Satoru and I had plans, a life we were building, and then you come waltzing back in, dragging some kid into the picture. Don’t act like this hasn’t complicated everything.”

Your jaw clenches, and it takes everything in you to keep from shouting. “Koji is Satoru’s son,” you say firmly, your voice low but cutting. “If you think for one second that I’m going to apologize for that, you’re delusional. Whatever plans you think you had with him, they don’t erase his responsibilities as a father.”

Himari scoffs, her eyes narrowing. “Responsibilities? Don’t make me laugh. Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? Using that child as leverage to worm your way back into his life? Everyone can see through this little game of yours. You seem like a poverty-stricken nobody who probably has nothing better to do with her life than go back to a man you never had just for that security. Let me guess, you’re blackmailing him that if he doesn’t help you out, he’ll never see his son again. People like you are pathetic and you leech off the important people like us—like my boyfriend. ”

Your blood runs cold at her words, and your chest tightens with a mixture of fury and disbelief. For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, the sheer audacity of her accusations stealing the breath from your lungs. But then the weight of her words sinks in, and a protective fire ignites inside you. You take a step closer to her, your eyes locked onto hers with unwavering intensity. “Say whatever you want about me,” you begin, your voice low and steady, though it trembles slightly with suppressed anger. “Insult me, make your assumptions, spin whatever narrative helps you sleep at night—but leave my son out of it.”

Himari raises an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance, but you see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Oh,” she says, her tone dripping with condescension. “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”

“Damn right you did,” you snap, your voice rising. “You don’t know a damn thing about me or my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve sacrificed, or what I’d do to protect my child. Koji has nothing to do with whatever petty insecurities you have, so don’t you dare use him as a weapon to take cheap shots at me.”

Himari’s smirk falters, and she takes a slight step back, though she tries to mask it with a scoff. “Oh, please. Spare me the sob story. You can play the victim all you want, but it’s obvious what this is. You’re desperate, and you’re using that boy to sink your claws back into Satoru. You have no idea how much this ruins everything.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You really don’t get it, do you?” you say, your voice softer now, but no less cutting. “This isn’t about Satoru. It’s not about you, either. It’s about giving Koji what he deserves—a chance to know his father, to have someone who loves him unconditionally. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re the one who doesn’t belong in his life.”

Himari glares at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the tension in the air crackling like static. Finally, she lets out a derisive huff, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “We’ll see,” she says, her voice icy. “We’ll see how long this little charade lasts. But don’t get too comfortable—you won’t win. People like you never do.”

“And people like you…” you start, biting the inside of your cheek; debating whether it’s worth stooping down to this woman’s level. 

Himari freezes in place, her lips curling into a sneer. “And people like me?” she asks, her voice sharp and challenging.

“People like you,” you say, stepping forward again, close enough to reach out and slap her, your voice unwavering, “think the world owes them something just for existing. You walk around acting superior, but all you’re doing is hiding how insecure you really are. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because deep down, you know Satoru isn’t yours to keep.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think you’ve hit a nerve. She clenches her fists, but her laugh is bitter and hollow. “Insecure? Please. I have everything I need, and I definitely don’t need to play house with some random ex to prove my worth. Satoru’s with me because he wants to be, not because he feels sorry for me like he does for you.”

You take a deep breath, steadying the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night. But let me make one thing clear—you don’t get to stand here and insult my son or me. Koji is Satoru’s priority, not some trophy you can use to boost your own ego. So if you’ve got something to say, make sure it’s worth my time.”

Himari’s face twists in frustration, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she straightens her posture, her mask of composure slipping back into place. “You have no idea what you’re saying, do you?” she says coolly, her tone a forced calm. “Someone should really teach you what happens when you fuck with the wrong people.”

“Then teach me.”

You don’t want to egg her on, you didn’t even want to see this girl in the first place. But nonetheless, the things she’s saying—how she’s acting, it’s bringing out a side of you that you try to keep hidden. Composed under years of self-calming techniques and resilience. Maybe it’s just adding onto the extra shit going on right now, but the fact that she’s managed to anger you this much in such little time is infuriating in itself. You don’t want to give her the energy or time of day. But, you also don’t want her to think she can get away with speaking about Koji like this—about you like this.

You two are engaged in a heavy staring contest, neither one of you seeming to want to back down. Facing each other with an equal stance of hostility. The air between you is thick with tension, every second stretching like an eternity as neither of you breaks eye contact. Himari’s jaw tightens, her polished exterior beginning to crack. It’s subtle, but you catch it—the slight twitch of her lip, the faint waver in her composed demeanor. For all her bravado, she didn’t expect you to stand your ground.

“What’s going on?” Satoru’s worried, but quick and abrupt voice interrupts the moment. Coming in through the still-open door, closing it behind him, and meticulously placing himself between you two. He looks at you, checking to make sure you’re okay but focusing on his girlfriend. “Himari, what are you—”

The sound of a palm smacking hard against his skin reverberates throughout the place, cutting him off with such force that it leaves a stunned silence in its wake. Your eyes widen, watching as Satoru doesn’t move his head for a moment from the side it has just been slapped to. Looking closer, red already begins to break out on his pale cheek. Your jaw clenches.

He slowly looks back at Himari, who faces him with an angry look. Satoru’s face hardens as he does so, his eyes narrowing slightly. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze, a sharp edge that doesn’t appear often but sends a chill down your spine when it does. His voice is low and measured, a stark contrast to the tension radiating off him. “What the hell was that for?” he asks, his tone deceptively calm but laced with steel. 

Himari doesn’t flinch, her fury unabated. “For letting this—this circus go on!” she snaps, gesturing between you and him. “For embarrassing me, for letting her waltz in and ruin everything we’ve built! How can you stand there and not see what she’s doing to us?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He huffs out, straightening his jaw out.

“You lie to me, you dodge my questions, and now I find out you have a fucking son? And with a woman like her?” She points to you, scoffing at the idea. 

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his hands clenching at his sides as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of levity, are clouded with frustration now. “Himari, stop,” he says firmly, his voice low but commanding. “You’re crossing a line.”

Himari laughs bitterly, her voice dripping with disdain. “Oh, I’m crossing a line? You’ve been lying to me for who knows how long, and I’m the one in the wrong? I think I have every right to be angry, Satoru!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “You’re angry, fine. But don’t you dare talk about her like that,” he snaps, nodding toward you. “This isn’t her fault. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

You’re the last one to blame, Satoru. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat of the moment radiating off them both. Himari’s sharp gaze darts to you, her lips curling in disdain. “Of course, you’d defend her. She’s nothing but a leech, clinging to you because she has no other options. And now you’re letting her use that kid to worm her way into your life.”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, startling both you and Himari. He steps forward, his towering presence imposing as his icy glare fixes on her. “You don’t get to talk about her—or my son—like that. Ever. Do you hear me?”

Himari’s eyes widen, a flicker of shock passing through her anger. But she recovers quickly, her voice lowering to a venomous hiss. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re ruining everything for someone who’s nothing to you. Do you really think she’s here for you? She’s here for your money, your status. Wake up, Satoru.”

“Himari, you should go now.”

“Oh, I will,” She tilts her chin up at him. “My parents have a lot to say to you and your own. So be ready for that. If you think I’m bailing out on this relationship, I’m not. I am not letting you ruin this—ruin us.”

She speaks with finality, practically pushing into him as she heads for the door. Not even sparing another glance back before exiting, the door slamming after her. All that’s left behind is an uneasy silence. Satoru stays frozen in place for a moment, his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the frustration, the exhaustion, the lingering anger. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his snowy hair before turning to face you. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low, almost defeated. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Your lips form a faint grimace, your head slowly shaking. “No, don’t apologize. I–I’m sorry.” You pause again before carefully asking, “Are you okay?”

He closes his eyes momentarily with a sigh, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Does she…slap you like that, like—usually?” The question feels nasty to ask, but you can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of seeing your ex and father of your son being so carelessly and almost nonchalantly hit like that. No matter who did it.

“Well, no,” he says. “But when she gets really pissed at me, well—she lashes out.”

Your stomach churns at his words, and despite the tension that still hangs between you two, your heart feels heavy with a mix of concern and unease. You want to reach out, but you’re not sure how, not after everything that’s happened. “That’s not okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. No one should. I don’t…like seeing you get treated like that, Satoru.”

Satoru’s gaze softens, though he quickly brushes it off with a wave of his hand, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “It’s fine, really. It’s just how she is when she’s angry. I’m used to it.” The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes your chest tighten. You want to argue, to tell him that being used to it doesn’t make it right, but you hold back. He’s not a child; he doesn’t need to be coddled. But the way he brushes off the situation, like it’s no big deal, makes it hard to ignore that maybe he’s been through this for far too long. You almost start wishing you could go back in time and slap her instead. 

“Still,” you say, taking a cautious step closer. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve that.”

Satoru finally meets your gaze, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. He seems grateful, but there’s also a wall behind his expression, a part of him that refuses to acknowledge the pain beneath the surface. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “But I’m okay. Really. I just…I know how to deal with her.”

The words seem rehearsed, like he’s convincing himself as much as anyone else. You can tell he’s not fully okay. And, despite the atmosphere between you two, you know he’s not asking for your sympathy. But you can’t help but feel like there’s more beneath it all that he’s not saying, things he’s kept hidden far too long. “It looks a little swollen, do you want to ice it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He agrees, walking to his freezer and getting out a small icepack. You hover awkwardly, unsure if you should leave him be or offer some strange sense of comfort. But it feels wrong to just leave like that. Sure, there’s a certain line marked between you two, but you still have empathy. Morality. You’re still a good person, and so is Satoru. So, you step forward slowly, still leaving enough room for him to deny you.

Satoru doesn’t protest as you move closer, but you notice the way his body tenses just slightly, a subtle indication that he’s still not entirely comfortable. He continues to press the icepack to his cheek with a quiet sigh, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The sound of the ice against his skin is the only noise filling the silence between you. You can’t help but feel the weight of it all—the tension, the unresolved emotions, the hurt. You know he’s not the type to open up easily, but something about the way he’s holding himself, the guarded look in his eyes, tells you he’s struggling with more than just the immediate confrontation with Himari.

Your hand reaches up and tentatively replaces his own on the pack. 

Satoru tenses again for a moment at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. He lets you take the icepack from him, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. The warmth of his skin against yours lingers, and you feel a shift in the air between you, something unspoken, yet palpable. You keep the ice gently on his swollen cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure. Your eyes meet his, the proximity somehow making everything feel more intimate than it should be, and yet, in that moment, it feels right—like you’re not just helping him physically, but in some quiet, emotional way too. His gaze softens, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his usually guarded expression. The situation reminds you of the past.

Nights when he was too sleep-deprived to function, the times when he accidentally cut himself with a knife while making dinner, or the times you used to apply face masks together during your sleepovers. It all feels like how it used to.

"Let me," you say softly, a quiet reassurance in your voice, though you’re unsure why you feel the need to offer it. Maybe it’s because, despite the complicated history between you two, in this moment, it feels like you’re more than just the roles you’ve played—more than the messy entanglements that surround you both.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a few seconds, his eyes focusing on the ice as you hold it against his cheek. The silence between you is no longer uncomfortable, but rather, it feels like a rare kind of peace, a brief respite from the chaos. "Thanks for doing this," he says eventually, his voice softer than usual. "I know it’s not easy, dealing with all the shit going on, but... I appreciate it."

You nod, unsure of how to respond to that. It’s strange, helping him like this, especially considering how much tension has been between you two recently. But the act itself, simple as it is, feels like a small moment of clarity amidst all the confusion. "You don’t have to thank me," you say quietly, looking up at him. “I’m here. For whatever you need. Just…don’t blame yourself. It’s all my fault.”

You both stand there for a long moment, neither of you moving, just sharing the space. No words are needed, the action itself speaking volumes more than anything you could say aloud. He looks like he wants to protest, to say that you’re wrong and that he has some blame in this giant mess too. But he stays silent, enjoying the comfortability of a life that seems to offer none of that so far. It’s like he still—after all this time—finds his peace with you. 

That thought makes him feel put off.

Because while he can’t stop how his heart feels and force it to feel the opposite, there are still lingering emotions of annoyance. Of how this all could’ve been avoided. Of how he still hasn’t completely forgiven you. Of how that small part of him hates you. Hate? Does he hate you? It seems like he has an answer to that question when you gently place a hand on his chest. Head leaning up like it’s ready for something, your eyes flickering down to his lips. He sees it; knows it’s coming. But he doesn’t move, for some reason. 

Your hand freezes the moment you realize what you’re doing, quickly stopping yourself from leaning up anymore. Though it’s a little too late for that, considering you’re this close to his lips. You hadn't even noticed it at first, your body moving on instinct, closing the distance between you two. But now that his chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, the weight of your action feels impossibly heavy. 

“I…” you stammer, the words getting caught in your throat. You glance up at him, your wide eyes meeting his, searching for some kind of response. But his expression is unreadable, his pale lashes half-lowered as he looks at you with something in between confusion and guarded curiosity. 

Satoru’s jaw tightens, and you can tell he’s trying to process what just happened—what’s happening now. His lips open like he’s about to say something, but the silence stretches between you both instead. Finally, his hand moves, brushing lightly over your wrist, a cautious touch, testing your reaction. “Why did you do that?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual, yet laced with an edge of something you can’t quite place. It’s not anger, but it’s not entirely calm either.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You pull your hand back quickly, as if you’ve burned yourself, clutching it against your chest like it might shield you from the tension. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m really sorry.”

“No,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “You were.”

His words send a jolt through you, and for a moment, you feel exposed, like he’s peeled back a layer of your defenses you weren’t ready to give up. He doesn’t break eye contact, but there’s a shift in his gaze, a flicker of something deeper—conflict, maybe. 

“Satoru,” you start, but the name sounds so small, so uncertain, even to you. “I didn’t mean—”

“You’re making this complicated,” he cuts in, his tone sharper now, like he’s trying to create a barrier between you again. “I’m trying to figure this out. Everything. And you…you can’t just—” He stops himself, exhaling harshly, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “You can’t just do things like that and expect me to know what the hell you’re thinking.”

You flinch slightly at the bite in his words, but you don’t back down. “I’m not trying to complicate anything,” you reply, more firmly this time. “I just—I don’t know how to act around you anymore. It’s like I can’t get it right.”

Satoru takes a step back, putting more distance between you, but his eyes never leave yours. “Yeah, well, join the club.”

A silence befalls you two. One that threatens you to curse yourself for ruining something so small and tender because of your own selfish desires. What reason was it for? Why did you do that? Maybe it was just a small moment of hallucination. You weren’t thinking right, only your body was. Or maybe it was the peacefulness that tiny moment brought you, or it felt right and nostalgic. Your feelings are already all jumbled up, this situation didn’t make it any better. 

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, as you both stand there, neither daring to speak or move. You feel the weight of your own actions crashing down on you, each second of quiet like an accusation. What were you thinking? The question echoes in your mind, louder and louder. Was it a lapse in judgment? A selfish impulse? Or something else entirely—a longing for something that no longer exists? 

You glance at Satoru, his expression unreadable, the cool mask he wears so well firmly in place. You wish he’d say something, anything, even if it was to scold you or tell you to leave. But he doesn’t. He just stares, and the silence twists deeper into your chest. 

Why did you do that? you wonder again, your thoughts spiraling. Maybe it was the way his presence felt familiar, and comforting, even after everything. Or maybe it was the way the tension between you two softened for just a fleeting second when you held that ice pack for him. Or, it could’ve been just the nostalgia—a memory of a time when things were less complicated when you didn’t feel so distant, so broken. 

But now? Now it feels like you’ve ruined even that small, fragile thread of peace. The silence between you isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s damning. You’ve crossed a line, one you didn’t even realize was still there.  

You open your mouth to say something, to explain yourself, to apologize again, but no words come out. Because what could you possibly say? That it was a mistake? That you weren’t thinking? That for just one moment, you wanted to feel close to him again, even if it wasn’t real?  Satoru finally exhales, breaking the quiet. His gaze flickers down, then away, like he can’t look at you anymore. “I think…” He trails off, his voice quieter than before. “Maybe it’s best if we don’t… overthink this.”

You blink at him, unsure if he’s trying to offer you an out or protect himself. “Overthink what?” you manage to ask, though your voice is barely above a whisper.

He looks at you then, his expression softening just slightly, but there’s still a wall between you. “Whatever this is,” he says, gesturing vaguely between you two. “I’m trying to figure things out, and this...it just complicates everything.”

Your chest tightens at his words, but you nod, forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “I get it.” But do you? Or are you just agreeing because it’s easier than admitting that you don’t know where the lines are anymore? Or if they still exist. Or that you don’t even know how you feel—let alone how he feels.  

“I should go,” you say finally, your voice steadier now. You grab your bag again that you set on the table haphazardly after the girlfriend run-in, avoiding his gaze, and head for the door. But just as you’re about to leave, you pause, turning back to him. “Satoru… I’m sorry.” I really didn’t mean it.  

He doesn’t respond immediately, his hand lifting briefly as if he’s going to reach for you but dropping back to his side. “Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Me too.”

You don’t waste time in making your departure after hearing his words. The door closes behind you as you briskly make your way to the elevator. Letting out a breath you must’ve been holding the whole time once you’re in. Watching yourself drop floor by floor, each thought sounding louder than the previous one. Questions of why bouncing off the walls of your brain. You don’t know why; or maybe you do, you just can’t face it yet. 

You’re not sure you want to face it. 

You can only hope Satoru is right about all this and he stays true to his word. Don’t overthink it, pretend it didn’t happen. That should be easy, right? It should be simple, just forget it. 

The elevator doors slide open, and the cold air from the lobby greets you as you step out. The stillness of the afternoon settles around you like a blanket, thick and suffocating. You pause just outside the building, inhaling deeply as if the fresh air will help clear your head. But it doesn’t. The questions still echo, louder now in the quiet of the world around you. Maybe the answer, it’s been there all along, waiting for the cracks in your armor to show. But facing it means confronting feelings you’ve kept locked away for years—feelings you’re not sure you’re ready to admit exist.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence. You pull it out, and Hana’s name lights up the screen. Guilt instantly knots in your stomach. You’ve been so caught up in your own whirlwind of emotions that you completely forgot about your shift. “Hey,” you answer, your voice tight but steady.

“Y/N? Where the hell have you been?” Hana’s voice is sharp but concerned. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stammer, forcing a calm tone. “Just… had some things to take care of. I’m sorry for being late, I’m coming right now.”

There’s a pause on her end, and then she sighs. “Look, just get here when you can, alright? We’ll talk about this later.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, already walking toward the nearest bus stop. “I’ll be there soon.”

As the line disconnects, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and quicken your pace. Hopefully, work will be a distraction, something to keep your mind from circling back to Satoru, to what happened, to everything it could and couldn’t mean. Because right now, pretending it didn’t happen feels safer than admitting that it did. And you can only hope—pray, even that Satoru is doing the same. 

Satoru had barely even eaten the lunch he grabbed from his fridge. Driving back to the office in complete silence, not even putting the radio on as background noise. Now, he’s just staring down at his food on his desk, finger tapping against the armrest of his chair. The food sits untouched in front of him, its aroma barely registering as Satoru leans back in his chair. His finger taps rhythmically against the armrest, an unconscious outlet for the storm of thoughts swirling in his head—an unusual quietness for someone who usually thrives on noise.

But now, the silence feels deafening.

His jaw tightens as he replays the scene in his apartment, your expression when you left, and the weight of your hand on his chest, the way you leaned in so casually, so instinctively. He lets out a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his hair. “Get it together,” he mutters under his breath, glaring at the half-eaten sandwich sitting before him like it’s the cause of his current turmoil.

He’s angry—not just at you, but at himself. At the way his heart reacted in that split second, betraying him when he was supposed to have control. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything, not after everything that had happened between you two. But that small moment—the fleeting touch, the look in your eyes—it’s left him shaken in a way he can’t quite articulate.

The sharp knock at his office door jolts him out of his thoughts. He straightens, hastily pushing the food aside and clearing his throat. “Yeah, come in,” he calls, his voice a little rougher than intended.

A junior colleague pokes their head in, a stack of files in their hands. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but these need your signature before the end of the day.”

“Just leave them on the desk,” he replies, barely sparing a glance.

The younger employee hesitates, sensing the tension in the room, before quickly placing the files down and retreating. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his desk as he buries his face in his hands. He knows he won’t get anything done like this, but his thoughts are relentless. And no matter how much he tells himself to let it go, he can’t shake the memory of your hand, your eyes, the way you looked at him as if you were searching for something he’s not sure he can give. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, shoving his chair back and standing abruptly. Maybe he needs to walk it off, clear his head, do something—anything—to stop thinking about you.

A few minutes pass, busying himself with the signatures before the doors open again, this time with no warning knock. “I’ve had people look into the leak, it was an anonymous source. There’s a group of men your father sent to scout out the possible places the picture was taken from.”

His mother’s voice is a small distraction from his inner turmoil. Of course it’s not the exact thing he’d like to hear and discuss right now, but anything to take his mind off today's earlier events. “Any luck?”

She sighs, rubbing a hand through her greying hair. “As of now, no. But we’re narrowing it down. Your father believes the leak came from a possible rival.”

Satoru sits up straight. “Like the Zenins?”

Grimacing at the mere mention of that family, Akane frowns but shakes her head. “No, surprisingly. They were out on a family vacation to Italy. I got word they landed back last night.”

“Still, it could’ve been from them. Maybe they hired someone.” 

The Zenins and the Gojo Group have been rivals for a long time now. Though most would probably consider them to have a “frenemies” sort of relationship, some of the people in that family are just…horrible. Not all, but almost all. Satoru lets out a low breath, leaning back in his chair as memories of past encounters with the Zenins flash through his mind. He’s been forced to deal with them more times than he can count—at corporate events, business dealings, even unfortunate leisure events—and each time, their games get more infuriating.

The Zenins own a massive real estate and infrastructure business called the Zenin Development Group, or ZDP for short. The ZDP hasn’t shied away from the use of rumors in the past that attempted to damage the Gojo Group’s image. Satoru remembers one incident where word had been flying around about the Gojo Group “losing its footing in certain markets”. A sorry try at weakening their investor confidence. The head of the Zenins, Toji, is usually the more critical and logical man. His cousin however, the man who was supposed to be in Toji’s spot, isn’t. That cousin, lacking Toji’s cunning and restraint filled nature, remains a wildcard Satoru would rather not deal with. 

Still, their family name alone is enough to make Satoru’s jaw clench.

Akane pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. “It’s a possibility, but your father’s men are thorough. If the Zenins hired someone, we’d have a trail by now. And honestly, Satoru, with the way that family operates, they’d have made sure you knew it was them. Subtlety isn’t exactly their strong suit.”  

Satoru lets out a dry huff, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re right. They love to flaunt their chaos.”  

“Exactly,” Akane replies, crossing her arms as she paces. “This is different. It feels… personal. Whoever leaked that photo isn’t trying to start a war—they’re trying to cause damage. To you specifically or the company name, either or.”  

He tilts his head, processing her words. “Why would it be specifically me? And not the family, not the company?”  

“Well right now, it’s focused on you. It’s not the usual business sabotage we see with rivals.” Akane’s tone is pointed as she stops pacing, fixing him with a meaningful look. “They knew about Koji. This wasn’t some random slip. Someone wanted that information out in the open.”  

Satoru’s chest tightens, his mind flickering to you and Koji. It hadn’t been long since his son came into his life, and now—now everything felt like it was spiraling faster than he could keep up.  

“You think it’s someone close,” he mutters, not quite phrasing it as a question. “A partner?”

Akane’s silence is enough of an answer.  

Satoru pushes a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “If it’s personal, then who the hell has it out for me like this? Himari’s pissed, but she’s not stupid enough to—”  

Akane cuts him off with a sharp look. “Don’t rule her out just yet.”  

Satoru scowls. “Come on, you really think—”  

“I think people do crazy things, no matter if we think they will or not,” Akane interrupts firmly. “And she’s been in your life for years now, Satoru. She’s close enough to pull something like this without you suspecting it.”  

Satoru is quiet for a beat, his mind whirring. “And if it’s not her?”  

“Then it’s someone else in our circle,” Akane says, her voice cool and confident. “Someone with access. Someone who knows where to hit.”  

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. His world already feels like it’s splitting at the seams, and now someone is actively trying to make it worse.  

“What do we do now?” he asks finally, his tone subdued.  

Akane straightens, her expression hardening with resolve. “We tighten security, keep this contained as best as we can. Your father will expect you to do damage control. In the meantime, I’ll keep digging to find out who’s behind this.”  

“And what’s his plan if we find the source?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

Her lips thin into a straight line. “We’ll handle it as we always do. Quietly. Efficiently.”

Satoru nods, his jaw set. “Good. Do whatever you have to. I want answers.”  

Akane turns to leave but pauses at the door. “And Satoru—be careful who you trust.”  

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Satoru alone once more, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the silence.  

Someone close to him betrayed him. Someone knew about Koji. Was he getting followed again? It couldn’t have been the informant his parents sent after him when he was gone, they already checked in with him and scared him to keep his mouth shut about anything. 

Satoru swivels the mouse to his computer, lighting up the screen once more. An article he had stopped reading a few minutes prior appears. The Zenin Development Group, of course, had been the first to make a comment. Within hours of the news breaking, they released a veiled statement—dressed up as “a comment on modern family values”—that clearly took aim at the Gojo Group. The implication had been clear: Satoru Gojo, the golden heir, had secrets. Unpredictability. For a family like the Gojos, where control was everything, it was a calculated jab. The Zenins would never miss an opportunity to capitalize on a weakness. He laced his fingers together as his mind runs. 

The real estate moguls weren’t the only ones circling, though. Smaller partnerships had already started asking questions. He was hoping that deals that were already set in stone wouldn’t suddenly slow to a crawl with poor excuses of  “we’re just waiting to finalize a few details” piling up. However, investors did send cautious emails, politely “checking in” to ensure the Gojo Group was still on track.

And the last thing the Gojo Group needed were foreign partners—companies Satoru and his father had worked years to solidify relationships with—showing even hints of hesitation. People wanted answers, of course, clarity. How does the man who’s heir to one of the country’s largest conglomerates have a child hidden away? And more importantly, what else don’t they know?

Satoru exhales sharply, his fingers pressing harder into each other. It had taken everything in him not to lose his temper in the initial meetings of this morning. The entire damn building practically gawked at him more than usual when he strutted in. He felt their silent questions, their shock and confusion. None of them voiced anything, but that didn’t stop them from secretly whispering to each other when they thought he couldn’t hear. He kept his voice steady, his demeanor calm—like none of this mattered, like he wasn’t feeling the weight of it all pressing against his ribs. To his credit, most of the major deals were still holding. The Gojo name was far too powerful to be shaken by one scandal, but that didn’t mean cracks hadn’t appeared.

There were still murmurs, even within his own company. Executives muttering over coffee, wondering if the family would take action to “correct the situation.” His parents had already made their stance clear—they wanted this “mess” cleaned up quickly. A statement. A press release. Something that would sweep the story under the rug.

But Satoru couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he? What would he even say? That he’s sorry?

His son wasn’t a mistake.

He glances over to the untouched lunch on his desk, appetite long gone. Koji hadn’t asked to be born into this family, into this life of scrutiny and power plays. And yet here he was—thrust into the spotlight because of some unruly person who doesn’t give a damn about anything. The Gojo Group would weather this storm—he’d have to make sure of it.

Still, it’s the moments between all the business calls and the carefully crafted emails that gnaw at him the most. When he catches a glimpse of Koji’s face in the news coverage, or sees your name being dragged into articles alongside his. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be shocked at how quickly the public found that out.

It’s just business, he reminds himself.

But Satoru knows better than anyone—nothing about this has ever just been business.

He rubs his face again this time harder, checking the time.  

Distraction, distraction, distraction. He takes his phone out, going to his messages. Hovering his thumb over your name, before biting the bullet and sending you a text. 

I’m picking up Koji today.

A few minutes later…

Y/N:

Are you sure? I can

Already decided, don’t worry about it

Satoru pauses again, his thumbs doing circles over the bright screen as he thinks of the correct way to articulate his next text. 

You should probably stay over again. I’ll watch Koji but if you’re working late, he’ll end up falling asleep. I don’t want you guys out alone at night.

Is that too forward of him to say? Truly, he does mean it for your protection and safety. He’s willing to look past whatever it was earlier today, just as long as you and his son don’t accidentally get ambushed by reporters or strangers. Besides, he’s making up for lost time, remember? 

Another few minutes passed with no reply. Assuming you’re busy at work right now, he’s about to shut his phone off and stand up when you say…

Y/N:

Oh, okay. Just one more night

He wishes he can read your tone better through text.

“Papa.”

“Yeah, buddy?” Satoru wipes a small stream of chocolate ice cream from his son’s mouth. He wonders if you’d scold him for giving him ice cream on a cold day. But hey, his son did ask. And who is he to say no?

“On January 5th, it’s a special day.” Koji grins, little legs swinging back and forth over the bed, watching his father clean up the room his son will be sleeping in again tonight. Another reason you’d probably be mad at him for eating ice cream, it’s night time and he’s about to go to sleep. 

Satoru had gone to the store after picking up Koji from school to buy a quick set of pajamas and tiny underwear for the boy after realizing he had absolutely no spare children’s clothes laying around. 

Why would he?

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” 

Koji’s grin widens, his little hands clutching the edge of the bed as if he’s holding onto the excitement bubbling inside him. “It’s Dad Appreciation Day at school!”

Satoru freezes mid-motion, Dad Appreciation Day. He turns slowly, trying to keep his voice light and teasing even as something twists in his chest. “Oh, is that so? And what happens on Dad Appreciation Day?”

Koji beams up at him, oblivious to the subtle tension in his father’s stance. “It’s a day where we get to bring our dads to school and show them all the cool stuff we made! Mr. Ito says we’re gonna draw pictures and talk about how awesome they are!” He pauses for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. “And I already told everyone my dad is the coolest of them all.”

Satoru swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “You did, huh?”

Koji nods enthusiastically, his little legs still swinging. “Yeah! ‘Cause you are the coolest, Papa.” He says it like it’s the simplest truth in the world, his voice full of innocence and pride.

Satoru stares at him for a beat too long, that twisting feeling growing stronger. He crouches down in front of Koji, meeting his son’s wide, expectant eyes. But he can’t hold back the warmth that blooms in his being. “So, you want me to come to this Dad Appreciation Day?”

Koji nods again, so quickly it looks like his head might fall off. “Yep! And I want you to meet my friends! And—” he pauses suddenly, glancing down at his hands as if shy about what he’s about to say. “And I want them to know you’re real.”

The words hit Satoru harder than he expects. He blinks, his heart stuttering in his chest. “What do you mean, buddy? Of course I’m real.”

Koji fidgets, his fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “Sometimes the other kids say I’m making stuff up. That I don’t really have a dad ‘cause they’ve never seen you. But I told them you’re real! And you’re awesome and tall and can do anything. I don’t have pictures of you either to show them.” He lifts his head again, his little face hopeful. “So…you’ll come, right?”

Satoru feels something ache deep in his chest—a mix of guilt, pride, and something he can’t quite name. This is what he’s been afraid of. The impact his absence might have on Koji, the doubts his son has had to defend himself against. Although it’s not his fault, he still feels awful over the fact that his son is getting criticized by other little shitheads for “lying about his dad”.

Again, who is he to say no?

Satoru musters a soft smile, reaching out to ruffle Koji’s hair. “Of course I’ll come, buddy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Koji’s face lights up, a pure, unfiltered joy spreading across his features. “Really?! You promise?”

“I promise.” Satoru’s voice is steady, despite the weight of the promise he’s just made. Because for once, he isn’t thinking about the scandal, the headlines, or what his family might say. Right now, all he sees is his son’s smile—the only thing that matters.

Koji throws his arms around Satoru’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, Papa. You’re the best.”

Satoru wraps his arms around the little boy, holding him close as he presses a kiss to the top of his head. “No, Koji. You’re the best.”

At this moment, Satoru feels like he’s doing something right.

Satoru sits back, still holding Koji close as the boy relaxes in his arms, content and unaware of the complexities that hang over his father. For a few moments, the weight of the world feels light, and the chaos of his personal and professional life fades into the background. He can’t help but wish he could bottle up this peace and take it with him everywhere. 

Koji yawns, his little body starting to slump against Satoru’s chest, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him. Satoru gently shifts him back onto the bed, tucking the covers around him. Taking his ice cream from him, the room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. He watches as Koji’s eyes flutter closed, a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips.

Satoru stands up slowly, lingering for a moment to make sure Koji is comfortable. He reaches for the nightlight switch, casting the room in a soft glow, then turns back to the door. His thoughts are no longer on the promises made to the company or the looming questions about his future with his family. It’s all about Koji, about being the father his son deserves.

As he steps out into the hallway, Satoru feels the familiar weight of the world returning, just a little. There are meetings tomorrow, more calls to take, and a whole slew of problems waiting for him. But tonight, for the first time in what feels like forever, he has something to look forward to. A chance to be present, to be the kind of parent he knows he can be. And that’s enough for now.

He takes a deep breath, letting the silence settle around him as he heads to the kitchen to grab a drink. Tomorrow will come with its own challenges, but tonight, he can rest easy knowing that for once, he has what he wants within his grasp. 

Despite his long day, Satoru feels a small obligation to stay up for you. Ensuring you make it back safe and all. You had insisted on using the bus back home, but he sent you money for a cab instead. Sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows floating atop. Still in his white button up and black slacks, white socks on. Once you knock on the door, he’s answering. “Hey, how was work?”

“Okay,” you mumble, walking past him inside. From your demeanor, you look tired. Maybe even still awkward. He locks the door shut and walks over, hovering next to you as you did your body of your coat and shoes. 

“Koji’s asleep.”

You nod. “Okay, thank you.”

“No problem ,” he lightly shrugs. “Um…are you hu—“

“No, no. Not really. I think I just want to shower and sleep.”

Satoru watches as you slip off your shoes, your shoulders heavy, and your movements slower than usual. He can tell you’re not in the mood for any more conversation, and he doesn’t want to push. The tension between you both is still there, unspoken but present in every glance, every word. But he’s trying to keep the peace, trying to respect the distance you’ve put between the two of you.

“Alright, well, if you need anything...” he trails off, not sure what else to say. He knows he could offer more, but right now, he’s unsure what would make you feel more at ease. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like he’s prying.

You glance over at him for a brief moment, your face unreadable. “Thanks,” you mutter, the words soft but genuine. 

He hums back, putting his hands in his pockets. “And he told me about the Dad day. I’ll clear my schedule and go.”

You glance up at him, a surprised but relieved expression flickering across your face. You hadn’t expected him to follow through so easily, but the way he says it so matter-of-factly makes you believe him. “That’s… that’s really great, Satoru,” you say quietly, trying not to let your gratitude sound too heavy. You didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. But deep down, you’re thankful. For Koji’s sake, for his happiness, and maybe for yours too.

Satoru gives you a small smile, almost like a silent reassurance, though his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty, as if he’s still unsure of how to navigate all the unspoken words hanging between you two. “It’s nothing. He’s my son, after all. I wouldn’t miss it.”

You nod, giving him a small smile back, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease. 

“I should let you get some rest,” he adds, his voice softening, almost like he’s giving you an out. “I know you’ve had a long day. I left some of my clothes out in the bathroom for you, if that’s okay.”

You nod again, appreciative of his understanding. It’s strange how he can act so distant and yet, in moments like these, he can be so… present. For once, you don’t feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. Maybe it’s because of Koji, or maybe it’s because Satoru’s actually trying. “That’s okay, thank you again.”

“Stop thanking me so much,” he shakes you off, walking over to the sink to begin washing the dishes. For a second, you watch his back, seeing the muscles of his firm skin through the almost dangerously thin material of his shirt. You look away, realizing you’ve been staring for too long and head over to the bathroom to begin your shower. 

Once again, the water feels warm and comforting against your skin. It’s what you look forward to after your days. Relaxing and letting loose, letting your shower ease your tension in your shoulders. Freeing your body of the day’s dirt and oil, feeling an ungodly amount of clean. Maybe it’s Satoru’s detachment shower head, or his lovely smelling shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, but it makes you sight wistfully. 

You allow yourself to bask in it, longer than you would back at your place because it’s not your water bill. As you step out and dry yourself off, the clothes that are left are a simple white t-shirt with boxers. Probably the only thing he has that can semi-fit you. 

However, you can’t resist the urge to bring the soft material up to your nostrils, eyes closing as you inhale deeply. It fills your senses with a strange, but familiar twist. Oh god, how you love his smell. 

That’s okay to admit still, right?

It’s not even just his cologne, but him. You’ve always loved it, always sniffed him and his clothes randomly. He’d make fun of you sometimes for it, just light teasing. Of course, he also was in love with the idea that just his scent alone can get you going. 

Inhale after inhale, practically stuffing the clothing in your face before taking the moment to actually put them on. Still big, but manageable. Besides, it’s just one more night. You and Koji will be back to the apartment tomorrow. 

After a good 45 minutes in the bathroom, you step out and walk in the direction of the room Koji’s in. But, you bump right into Satoru as you do so. He’s holding his own pair of pajamas in his arm. “Oh, sorry,” you quickly apologize and step back, voice low in effort to keep your son asleep. The dim lighting of the hallway almost makes his features even more pretty. “Did I take a long time? I thought you showered already.”

“No, it’s okay,” he replies, the bright hue of his eyes moving up and down. “You look…” He pauses, and there’s something in his gaze that’s hard to place, but you can feel the weight of it. “Comfortable.”

You feel your cheeks warm under his attention, but you don’t say anything in response. “Yeah, I am.”

He nods briefly and in silence. Once again, it’s like that moment from earlier today is making an appearance again. But this time it feels a little more electrified. Maybe it’s from the way his Adam’s Apple visibly bobs up and down like he’s gulping hard. Or the way his mouth has suddenly dried out. Or the way he has sudden invading memories of you wearing his shirt with nothing else after a passionate moment. Suddenly, he feels a problem. 

“Goodnight,” he swiftly utters, walking past you into the bathroom. His movements are hurried, turning the shower back on, putting his clothes down onto the sink and ridding his current wear. By the second, a knowing throb is taking place, one that almost causes him to groan out when his hand accidentally brushes against it. 

The water’s still cold as he gets in—he figures that’s a good thing. 

As the water splashes over his skin, Satoru tries to focus on the cold, the sting of it against his flushed skin, to fight off the growing tension that is so hard to ignore. His thoughts are a blur—memories of moments with you, your laughter, the way you’ve always looked at him, the touch of your skin, your smell. They all collide inside his head, each one triggering the next, until it’s impossible to escape the warmth of his desire. He tries to shake it off, tilting his face up to splash cold water onto it, breathing heavily as the icy droplets hit his skin. But the image of you wearing his shirt, the softness of the fabric against your bare skin, refuses to leave his mind. It’s maddening. There’s a part of him that feels guilty, like he’s crossing some boundary, but another part, the part that craves the connection with you, is too strong.

The tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten, feels like it’s pulling him in two different directions. The man he’s supposed to be—focused, disciplined, in control—and the man who craves more than just physical closeness. 

“Get it together, idiot,” he mutters under his breath, the words coming out as a sharp reprimand, though he knows it’s easier said than done.

The water begins to warm, slowly, but he doesn’t notice, his thoughts swirling like a storm. What the hell are you doing to him?

He takes a deep breath and turns the temperature up, letting the water envelop him, hoping that it will cool the fire inside of him. But somehow, it just feels like the heat of the moment is following him everywhere. 

What was he thinking letting you wear his clothes again? He’s practically asking for it. He should’ve thought more about his decision. But at the time, he was thinking with his brain, not his hard cock. 

Sparing a small glance down, his lips downturn. The tip is already an angry red and he’s barely touched himself, his veins becoming more prominent by the second as the blood rushes up and up. It’s practically begging to be felt, begging to be released. 

He feels like such an idiot. A perverted idiot. 

But with each blink, he’s getting flashbanged of past memories. The way your moans sounded heavenly in his ear, the way you squeezed around him that had his eyes rolling back. When you’d make that cute little noise when he’d circle a thumb on your pussy clif, simultaneously bullying your hole with his cock. The way you’d hold onto him. The way you—oh god. 

His body has such a mind of its own. 

He’s twitching in his hand, achingly so. Forcing down the surge of sudden need and focusing on the now. Willing his body to stop reacting so…blatant. It’s hard. In both ways. Satoru’s a grown man. He’s not used to such childish behaviors like this anymore. Keeping the lewd noises that threaten to leave his lips down like he’s a teenager all over again, scared of getting caught jacking off in his bedroom while his parents were down the hall. And he especially didn’t think he’d react like this all over again, and so damn easily too.

That’s what pisses him off most. Aside from the fact that you seemed so nonchalant. As if you didn’t know what was happening. That, or you’ve just become a good actress.

The water pellets down on him, hoping that the sound of his warm shower is enough to drown out the noise of the shaky moan that accidentally slips from his lips. This is bad; you and his son are sleeping peacefully in the other room and he’s here doing this.

But he just can’t help himself. His cheeks are flushed red, not just from the water. Head tilting back as he lays his left palm flat on the shower wall. For a second, he lets himself indulge in his selfish desires. And for a second, he doesn’t mind the fact that he just came to the thought of another woman and not his current girlfriend.

Jesus, he’s fucked up, isn’t he?

The next day proves to be busy. With the sudden influx of customers, everyone has been practically busting their ass off. You’re happy to go home, no longer dealing with that hustle and bustle. 

Hana stays for another couple hours until she too will be saved. She can’t even count on her hands how many times a customer or customers have asked for you. She feels bad, of course. You seem to be handling it, but at the same time, you’re not. 

She’s learned her lesson not to pry anymore when you seem close to the edge, that doesn’t diminish her worry as your friend. 

It’s slower as the day continues, the sun beginning to set and paint the sky with pretty shades of orange. She’s cleaning the tables, humming a small tune when the ding from above the door sounds. 

Like clockwork, she stops her cleaning and goes behind the register, planting a customer service smile. “Hello, welcome in.”

The man smiles back, though his seems more fake. Stepping upfront in front of her, looking over the menu placed above. He hums and talks his chin with his pointer finger. “What do you recommend?”

“The cookie butter latte is our best seller,” Hana replies. 

He nods again, his feline eyes flickering back down to her own brown pair. “That sounds wonderful, can I have that?”

“Of course.” Hana taps the order into the screen of the register, looking back up. “Anything else?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” He smoothly says. 

Hana blinks in surprise, momentarily thrown off guard by the man's sudden compliment. She forces a smile, not quite sure how to respond. Compliments were part of the job, but this one felt a little too close for comfort. She can feel the warmth creeping up her neck as she tries to keep the conversation professional. "Thank you," she says, voice even and polite. "Anything else I can get for you today?"

The man tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Maybe just your name?"

She offers a small, practiced smile, hoping to keep things casual. "Hana," she replies, maintaining eye contact but not giving away too much. "Now, would you like anything to go with your latte?"

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning the pastries behind the counter. "A chocolate croissant, please."

"Great choice," she says, quickly adding it to the order. "That'll be all?"

"For now," he says with a slight nod, but there's something in his tone that makes her wonder if it's really the last time she'll hear from him today.

Hana nods. “And a name for the order?”

He pulls out a crisp total of one thousand yen. “Naoya.”

a/n: writing the "kiss" scene made me think back to a time I dodged my ex's kiss b4 we started dating and I felt so embarrassed for him

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[fmb158581]

Chocolate Chip Cookies

“Did you seriously bring chocolate chip cookies on a mission?”,  Dick scoffed. Jason stayed silent. He really didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of the answer, so he stayed silent while his older brother ranted.

“I mean, we are literally about to take out Two-Faces men and you are chomping down on cookies. Loudly I will remind you. Are they Alfreds?” Dick reached into the baggie full of the sweet treat when Jason finally snapped. 

“These are my cookies. My girl made them.” Jason realized his mistake as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. It is common knowledge among the bat family that y/n’s cookies are to die for. “Gimme Gimme Gimme one! Like today, right now!” Dick tackled Jason, almost pushing him over the ledge of the building. Jason balanced himself and wrestled his sibling back. What both the boys didn't know or even notice while fighting over the beloved sweets was Damian sneaking up behind them. Dick was on top of Jason, but Jason's hand was out so far Dick couldn't reach them, but the small boy sneaking up on them could. As Jason prepared to bite his older brother, he felt a tug on the bag and it slipped out of his grip. Jason yelped and saw Damian running away, jumping from one building to another, slowly getting closer to the ground using fire escapes. Dick continued to wrestle Jason, not realizing the cookies were gone. Jason finally managed to pin him down, showing Nightwing that the cookies had vanished with their youngest brother. Dick pushed Jason off of him and raced after Robin. Two-Face’s men are long forgotten, and the two brothers race after Damian. They checked their trackers to see when the young bat had gone, only to run into Tim and Cass patrolling a nearby area. 

“Why are you two running? Were you not supposed to be ambushing?” Tim asked. 

“We have bigger fish to fry Tim, Damian stole my cookies!” Jason spat out. He looked at Tim and Cass. 

“Just cookies Jason. Why so important?” Cass whispered. Tim slowly realized why they were so important. 

“There Y/N’s aren't they?” His face lit up. He slowly turned and then sprinted in the direction Damian had run. The whole group raced after Tim. They jumped from building to building until they lost their youngest sibling’s tracks. He had turned off his location and there was only one person who could turn it back on. Their father. None of them wanted to put him in the loop, so they played fish in a bowl. 

“Ha, you lose Tim!” Jason shouted! 

“But Grayson’s hand was clearly still out!” Shouted Tim. 

“No, it wasn't! You lose Tim! You have to call Bats!” Dick stated surely. While the boys argued, none of them noticed their only sister slipping into the darkness. She raced from building to building, relying on her senses to find their father. He was on the Wayne Tech. tower. She snuck up behind him, trying to scare him. But before she could, he started to talk. 

“Whats wrong Batgirl?” Batman said darkly. Cass has always wondered how he could do it. Using all of his senses to be aware of his surroundings. Cassandra mustered up her courage and said three simple words.

“Damian. Cookies. Lost.” If it were anyone else, they would be confused but this is her father. He always knew what she wanted even when she couldn't express it fully. He looked at the tracking device on his arm, turned on Damian’s device, and looked at his only daughter. 

“He is at her house.” He said not looking up and the only thing he saw was the city before him. He smirked, knowing his daughter took after him. 

Back at the sight of the argument between brothers, they finally decided that their father would listen better to his daughter rather than the three boys that drove him up a wall. But when they started to look up to talk to Cass, they realized she wasn't there. They all started to freak out, not realizing that their tracking device was working yet again. 

“Where did Bat Girl go?” Tim looked around.

“She must have left,” Dick said. 

“Whose gonna call the bat now?” Jason whispered. He threw his hands above his head, frustrated with his siblings when he saw it, The location on his arm. He slowly started to back up towards the edge of the wall while his brothers argued with each other. He had just gotten to the edge when they realized what he already knew. 

“It's back on!” The two boys shouted racing to beat each other to the address, but Jason was already beating him. They swung from building to building, running on rooftops, trying to get to her house. When they got to the building, they raised down the fire escape to her window. Jason made it there first but got distracted by the sight. It was Y/N cooking while Cass and Damian sat at the table eating cookies and drinking milk. The room had a soft glow to it, highlighting every beautiful feature of her. Before Jason got to bask in her glow, Tim and Dick were opening the window and pushing forward into the apartment. They climbed through the window followed by Jason. 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Damian laughed, a rarity for the young boy. The girl Jason was staring at in wonder looked up and finally made eye contact with the three boys.

“I was thinking you boys were lost. I am making more cookies if you want some!” She looked at each of them and finally looked at Jason. 

“Hey, hun.” She said, putting the bowl of cookie batter down. She didn't even care that the remaining siblings ran to the bowl to get some cookie dough. She crossed the room to get to him keeping eye contact with him. She finally reached him and he hugged her, wrapping his arms around her. She placed her head under his chin. 

“I’m sorry about the crazies I brought with me.” He said, feeling ashamed. She started to laugh, her body shaking in his arms. She looked up and him and smiled. 

“I don't mind, this place gets a little lonely. My boyfriend works at night. I wonder why?” She giggled. Looking him in the eye. He started to smile. 

“He sounds like a real tool”, He said with a smile, “Mind if I take his place tonight?” She pondered the idea. 

“Jason, I would love for you to stay with me.” She smirked. She went on her tippytoes and finally gave him a kiss. As the group hung out and ate cookies, they didn't realize the person staring at them from a different building. Batman looked upon the dysfunctional crew and he smiled. He thought about how Jason’s girlfriend really brought out a new side of all his kids. Dick gave less worried looks towards Jason. The girl was giving giving decaf coffee to Tim, allowing him to sleep better at night. Cass was learning how to say more words, and feeling more confident with y/n’s help. Damian was smiling and being a kid more often. And finally, Jason was happier, shining every time the girl was mentioned. Batman was happy his son had found his forever person, even if he didn't know it yet.

[mushiewrites]

Silent Library

Ran a poll and you all voted this trio to be next! The prompts come from this list, requested by an anon (ask found here)! I hope you all enjoy :3

8 - “can you stop laughing? i’m trying to talk to you. How rude!” / 57 - “hey! this is a serious matter!”

(lee!Sapnap / ler!Dream / ler!George : 1.6K words)

“Do we really have to be in here?” Sapnap spoke softly, peering around the bland looking building and noticing how everything was colored an earthy brown. The furniture, carpet and wallpaper of the library all seemed to somehow blend together, like some kind of horrible camouflage. “Do you even have a library card?

“We don’t have any other choice, Sapnap. We need this book to code the new minecraft challenge and I can’t find it anywhere - I can’t even find it online,” Dream huffed in an equally soft voice, careful to not disturb the calm atmosphere surrounding them as they made their way to the tech section of the room. “And yes, I still have mine from when I was a kid.” 

“This is annoying.” George chimed in, following closely behind the two as he took in his surroundings. The three reached the correct aisle and immediately began to search the many titles littering the shelves, each starting in their own area along the bookshelf. 

After a few minutes of searching, Sapnap let out a frustrated sigh from his place on the floor, having been kneeling to search the bottom shelf before working his way up. He gripped the book side of the bookcase as he stood up, groaning and rubbing at the pattern the carpet had left on his knees.

“This is hopeless. It’s not here,” The youngest boy whispered out, partly so the other two could hear but mostly just to complain to himself. “It has to be online, there’s no way that- MM!” 

Sapnap slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his squeal, jumping to the left as George jabbed him in the side to make him be quiet. Unfortunately for them, it had the opposite effect. They heard a stern “SH!” coming from somewhere close. The librarian was unamused at the noise that he let out, clearly not caring how cute it had been.

“George, what the hell?!” He whisper-yelled at the elder, his face heating up when he watched as George giggled into his palm quietly. A sudden warmth was pressed into his left arm and he turned to find a very tall blonde boy leaning into him, pretending to look incredibly interested in the grey and white colored books in front of him. 

“What are you- hey!” Sapnap yelped as George pressed himself against his right side, the two older boys successfully trapping him between them and against the bookcase. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked quickly back and forth between them, continuing with a low growl in his voice. “What the hell, let me go!” 

“We’re just looking for the book, Sapnap. What’s the issue?” Dream asked through his smirk, pretending to be clueless as he leaned down to look on the shelf that was level with the smaller boy’s sides. The blonde acted as if he was reaching for a book but instead made a quick poke into Sapnap’s side, making him squirm to the right and directly into George’s waiting fingers. 

“Wh- Stohohop!” He pushed against George’s shoulder when he felt a poke into his ribs from the elder. Sapnap could feel his face heating up, no doubt a blushy mess in a very public place, which only served to further darken his cheeks.

“Hey! This is a serious matter! Did you not just hear Dream? We need this book, Sapnap, we can’t stohop!” George was almost giggling himself, biting his bottom lip to prevent a squeak from escaping. Sapnap rolled his eyes at that, opening his mouth to reply but was interrupted with a squeeze at his hip this time, squealing and immediately pretending to cough to conceal his laughter. 

“Can you stop laughing? I’m trying to talk to you!” Dream whispered to the left of him, standing back up and leaning in close to Sapnap’s ear to tickle him more. He smirked when the younger boy brought his shoulder up to stop the tingles, gasping in fake offense when he too was pushed away. “How rude!”

“Stohop, y-you’re gonna gehehet us in trouble!” He hiccuped through his giggles, leaning forward and resting his head on the bookshelf in front of him, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his hands up to cover his mouth once more when he felt light squeezes climbing up both of his sides.

As if the universe was listening, there was another sharp “SH!” that rang out into the uncomfortable silence of the library, only proving to egg the two boys on as he felt them add pressure to their squeezes, now reaching his ribcage and rubbing at the bones there.

Sapnap stomped his foot down as quietly as he could, bouncing up onto his toes and pressing his elbows to his sides to try and stop the tickling. This attempt was unsuccessful, and he continued to squirm as they continued to squeeze, the older boys giggling on either side of him. Sapnap was letting out little squeaks through his muffled laughter, pressing his hand hard against his lips and scrunching his nose as he kept his forehead resting against the shelf in front of him. His hat was slightly pushed up off of his head as the brim of it pressed against the books, prompting the younger boy to reach up and grab at one in an attempt to move it out of the way for his hat to settle back into place. The squeezes suddenly stopped on his right side, hearing a sharp gasp from the elder. 

“Wait, look! Sapnap found it!” George’s excitement was present in his lowered voice, feeling as the book he had randomly grabbed was gently taken out of his hands. He opened his eyes to see the brunette smirking, holding up the book they had been looking for to show Dream that they finally had located it.

“Thank fuck.” Sapnap let out a sigh of relief, bringing his hands down to rub at his sides as the two finally stepped away from him, giving the smaller boy space to calm down. He turned around and leaned his back against the wood behind him, running his hands down his cheeks before reaching up to adjust his hat that had been slowly but surely falling off during the attack. 

“See? We helped you find it! Your suffering was worth it!” Dream flashed his teeth at Sapnap with a wide smile, reaching out and taking the book from George to double check that it was the edition they needed. 

“Speak for yourself.” Sapnap mumbled, blushing when he was met with giggles in response. He let out a groan as the two began walking down the aisle and towards the front of the library, rolling his eyes as he watched them grow farther away.

With teary eyes he trailed behind them as they walked up to the check-out counter, avoiding eye contact with the librarian as she stared them down. Sapnap shrunk behind Dream, hiding in embarrassment at the fact that she had heard his squeaks and squeals, not being able to handle the idea that it meant the rest of the people in the room may have heard them, too. Sapnap shook his head briefly to rid his mind of the thought, silently willing himself to calm down to stop the blush from spreading. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad!” Dream smirked down at him as he turned around, the book and his library card in one hand while his free hand gripped onto Sapnap’s shoulder with a squeeze. The smaller boy rolled his eyes with a huff, shoving the hand off of him and letting out a low growl when the action was returned with a quiet chuckle. 

“Yeah, and you were the one to find the book! You were just so eager to help, how adorable.” George teased, voice still hushed as they pushed through the glass doors and out into the bright parking lot. 

“Whatever, idiots. You’re both gonna pay for this.” Sapnap seethed through his teeth, scowling at the two before breaking out into a small smile, unable to stop himself from giggling at the situation that just played out. 

“Sure we will, baby boy,” Dream began as they reached the car, Sapnap and the blonde walking to the same side as George made his way to the passenger side door. Dream grabbed his hand as Sapnap reached for the back door handle, making the younger boy look up to meet his eyes. “Just get in the car before we tickle you to pieces right here in this parking lot, okay?” 

Sapnap swallowed thickly as he nodded his head, ducking his head down when he felt the color return to his cheeks once more and yanking his hand out of Dream’s grip. He whined softly when he heard Dream’s high pitched giggles, clearly pleased with the reaction he got from the younger boy. He watched as the blonde opened the driver’s side door and slipped inside, following his actions and climbing up into the car himself. 

“What’s got you so red, hm?” George teased from the front seat, looking back at the smaller boy and smirking at the red hue in his cheeks. 

“Oh, fuck off, George.” Sapnap whined, the threat from Dream still replaying in his head. He leaned his head against the window and slid down in his seat as the two older boys laughed at the comment, silently cursing the two and plotting his revenge the whole way home.