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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 11 months ago

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COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.

it’s beautiful.

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!”

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it.

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.”

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.

he hopes it never goes away.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

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skellymom · 3 months ago

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“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured against her hair.

“Always,” she said softly, and his heart swelled in his chest.

JUST HITS ME RIGHT IN THE FEELZ!!!

Loving this series!!!

Ch 39: Finding Footing

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 3.3k

Song: “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane

Somehow, things felt familiar and novel all at once, like pulling on a well-worn pair of boots, perfectly fitted to one’s feet, then embarking on a new adventure.

Hunter followed the familiar path through the trees, listening to Lyra’s feet crunching behind, and took a deep inhale, comforted by the rich scents of wood and leaves, the faint musk of animals, and the even fainter salt of the sea. Sensing watchful eyes on him, he stopped abruptly. Lyra crashed right into his back. With a stumble and a chuckled apology, she peered out from behind him curiously.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“We’re not alone,” he murmured in response, immediately hearing her heart begin to pound in her chest as her body flushed with adrenaline. “Just an animal,” he explained further, feeling her relax slightly as she let out a tiny breath.

“A scary one?” she asked with an almost childlike tone.

“Not if you handle it right.”

“Somehow that’s less than soothing.”

She heard nothing, but he heard every step as a good-sized chriscat slunk into sight on the path ahead of them, head lowered, golden eyes fixed on them. Its shoulders rippled as it moved with painstaking care, large paws spreading onto the dirt as each one was placed slowly in front of the other.

“What do we do?” she breathed over his shoulder.

“Stand tall and don’t break eye contact,” he responded, stretching to his full height. He took a few steps toward it, lowering his own head and fixing it with a stare that gave it pause. A low snarl formed in its throat as it watched him, uncertain. Hunter moved a single arm to his waist, a sliding sound revealing a vibro-blade that glinted in the light, and a growl rumbled from his own chest as he squared his shoulders at the animal.

“Damn, that’s hot,” Lyra said under her breath, and Hunter would have laughed aloud if not for the imminent danger of the big cat currently stalking them.

He noticed its muscles tensing, and his brows lowered as he flipped the knife in his hand, fingers grasping the blade. Without warning, he let out a bloodcurdling yell and flung it at the cat. It spun through the air before burying itself in the tree trunk next. to the animal’s face, and the creature flinched in surprise, scrambling to run away from the sudden, startling attack. Hunter ran after it for a few steps, stopping as he watched it careen up the side of the mountain and vanish into the distance, then he fetched his vibro-blade from the wood with a single yank and tucked it into its sheath on his belt after a quick wipe. When he turned back to Lyra, the mixture of emotions on her face and in her body language was utterly comical.

“I think I’d like to hear more of your soldier stories,” she murmured, residually tense and irresistibly attracted to him all at once. He grinned, strolling back to her with a shake of the head.

“I don’t know if you could handle them,” he needled, earning a little gasp of indignation from her as he resisted the urge to cringe at his attempts at flirting.

“Fair enough.” She broke into laughter, closing the distance between them with a sheepish reach for his hand. He took hers happily, and they continued their stroll toward a favorite spot atop the cliffs overlooking the ocean.

* * *

Fanart by @matookahitaki

“This is harder than it should be,” Hunter grumbled, tensing his legs as he pressed his palms into the ground and arched his head back toward the sky.

“You’re doing it flawlessly,” Lyra laughed, mimicking the pose next to her. He’d agreed to join her in her yoga practice, which she enjoyed on a level spot of soft dirt beyond her garden, near the sea cliffs. They were each on a small mat, and she’d been leading him through the positions, trying and failing not to focus too much on the way his lithe body flowed effortlessly from one stance to another.

They folded themselves downward, hands digging into the earth above their heads as their backsides lifted into the air, heels pressing down as they lengthened and breathed deeply. The sun was low in the sky, filling her backyard with creamy golden light, and the faint calls of gulls over the ocean joined the dainty symphony of the tiny birds that flitted from tree to tree around her cottage. Everything about it was peaceful, and despite the burn in muscles that he didn’t even know he’d had, Hunter felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

He followed her as she stepped one foot forward between her hands, sinking low and twisting her torso to reach an arm above her, turning her head to fix her gaze on her fingers. A sudden stabbing pinch in his neck prompted a sharp inhale, and he released the pose, settling onto his knees and tilting his head back and forth, rubbing his neck with a grimace. It tightened in protest, shooting pain up his skull and down his back.

“You alright?” she asked, kneeling beside him with a look of concern.

“Cramp,” he muttered, cringing as he continued his attempt to loosen it.

“Ahh, I’m sorry. That’s the worst,” she sympathized. “Can I help?”

“I don’t think so?” It was more of a question than a rejection. She moved closer, sitting up higher on her knees and reaching a tentative hand to his neck. He dropped his own hand, watching her with a sudden focus despite the nagging pain in his muscle. A warm palm pressed against his skin, and he marveled for a moment at the fact that, for once, she wasn’t cold. Then, she moved her hand in one long, deep stroke from his shoulder up the side of his neck, and he couldn’t suppress the shudder that jittered his spine. She pulled away abruptly, biting her lip self-consciously.

“Sorry–” she began awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ear. He shifted on his knees, the pain having been dulled by his complete distraction at the effect her touch had on him.

“No, it… uh… it helped…” he stuttered, trying to ignore her smile at his flustered appearance.

“I can finish if you’d like,” she offered softly, and he could hear her heart beating loudly in her chest. He nodded, and she returned to his side, a little closer this time, and leaned over him to massage the side of his neck with both hands. He tipped his head away from her, stretching the muscle and opening it up to her, and now it was his turn to suppress a grin at the flush of heat that emanated from her body, accompanied by shallow breaths. She moved in long, steady strokes, one hand after the other, sending waves of absolute bliss through him, and after a few minutes, slowly stilled, dropping her arms to her sides.

“Thank you,” he murmured, rummy and relaxed as he turned to her. Her cheeks were red, eyes averted, and he felt the warmth deep in his own core as well.

“Sure,” she said loudly all of a sudden, sitting up straight and clearing her throat.

They watched each other for an awkward second, then Lyra rose clumsily to her feet, babbling something about needing to start dinner as she walked far too quickly toward her house.

* * *

Lyra walked excitedly ahead of Hunter, picking her way through The Forest with her pack bouncing on her hip. It was early in the morning — a rare time for her to be out from beneath her fluffy comforter — but she had something special planned and apparently thought he was worth it. She followed a tiny trail through the densely wooded area, birds chirping merrily overhead. Hunter walked quietly behind, a small grin on his face being forcibly contained.

“Almost there!” she assured in a singsong voice. The faintest sound of water could be heard up ahead, and as the trees gave way to the bank of the creek, Lyra slowed, searching for something. “Hmm. Hang on…” she muttered, taking a few steps in each direction.

Hunter waited, still smiling.

“Aha!” came the triumphant revelation. “Found it!” She trundled through some bushes and emerged into a tiny clearing. It was tucked high into the cliffs along the edge of the island with an expansive view of the coastline that zig-zagged around them. The water tinkled gently along one side, dripping down stones to the beach below, and the trees came right up to the drop off, providing a lush wall to block the chilly sea breeze. It was warm and quiet, with just enough nature sounds to lull its occupants into tranquility, and it didn’t look like anyone had ever been nearby save for the nimble-footed Kod’yok that roamed in small herds.

She stood in the center of the small clearing, beckoning for Hunter to join. He took his place behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and relishing the closeness as he took a deep breath.

“Give it like two minutes,” Lyra said. “Close your eyes and take it all in. I know you’ll enjoy it even more than me.”

They stood in silence, each allowing the beauty and calm to delight their senses. Hunter loved it. The ocean blended with the hanging flowers from nearby vines to create a light, salty-sweet fragrance, and now it was accompanied by Lyra’s subtle scent that soothed him deeply. The morning sun was not far above the tree line, so the endless waves of the sea were still painted with the glow of the cotton candy sky, yet its golden beams rested on their backs and warmed them through and through. He slowly ran his fingers along her forearms, tracing the curves of muscle and bone and memorizing the little bumps and scars of her life.

The white-tipped crests of the waves were mesmerizing as they rolled slowly toward shore one after another after another. The smooth dance of the sea was a pleasant contrast to the jagged cliffs along the island’s edge, decorated haphazardly with hardy bushes and craggy trees. The ever-shifting colors in the sky were a cherry on top of the majestic vista. And the combination of the crashing waves, nearby bird calls, and Lyra’s quiet breathing all invited him to rest in serenity.

“Wait…” she murmured, digging in her pocket suddenly. “Gotta make sure we get all the senses.” She produced two small candies with a chuckle, offering him one after she’d unwrapped its crinkly paper. “I know, I’m an old lady. Just let it melt in your mouth.”

He acquiesced, noting how she watched his lips as he took the small chocolate, but was soon distracted by just how decadent the treat actually was. It had a rich sweetness that filled his mouth as it slowly softened against his tongue, and Lyra turned back to face the sight before them as though leaving him to enjoy it in peace. He smirked as she closed her own eyes, sharing a private moment with the delicious delight, and as he leaned against her back, arms finding their way around her, he allowed his own eyes to rest, truly impressed at her intentionality to charm his senses as fully as she could.

Her unmistakable pride at having found the spot was unusually strong for her passive-to-a-fault personality, and Hunter was torn between saying something or leaving it be. But then she pushed her luck.

“It’s alright,” she teased, a saucy little glimpse of the spunk that she hid so well. “I’ve had a few years more than you on this lovely island. I’m sure you’ll find some equally amazing, jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring places like this in time.” She’d turned slightly in his arms to face him, regarding him with a smugness that he found irresistible.

“Hm. One can only hope…” he murmured, giving her a squeeze before standing beside her. He leaned his cheek close to hers, heat and intensity between them, and pointed at a nearby tree. It was old and sturdy, twisting toward the sky with endless boughs, and there was one particularly large one that had a cozy seat hollowed out where the branch met the trunk. There was a folded piece of cloth draped over it, though it was so similar to the color and pattern of the tree itself that one would never notice unless it were explicitly revealed.

“What…” Lyra was dumbfounded. “Someone else has been here?! Or is that… what is that?”

“That is the local butcher’s lookout where he tracks the migrating herds and keeps tabs on their populations, behavior, and habits. But it’s also a nice place to relax and enjoy a lot of pleasant elements in one convenient spot.”

“Hunter!” she laughed, shaking her head and smacking his arm before smacking her own forehead. “You already knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were so proud of yourself…” he began, grinning uncontrollably.

“Well now I feel like an idiot!” she giggled, only partly joking.

“Well hey,” he interjected. “I’ve never brought candy.” She snorted, staring at him incredulously. “And…” he continued, facing her again and touching her cheek with unfathomable gentleness, “I haven’t enjoyed this particular mix of scents… and sights… and textures…” He traced his fingers along her face, her jaw, her neck, feeling the softness of her skin with its slopes and lines, and a supreme sense of contentment settled over him. “So this is totally new.”

She took a deep inhale, having been breathing so shallowly that it wasn’t enough to sustain her need for oxygen, and opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. He brushed a thumb across her bottom lip, the wave of giddy disbelief and growing desire emanating from them both, then with a lingering gaze into her unguarded brown eyes, he lowered his hand.

* * *

“So! Breslin! Tell us about your job on Keytoll,” Phee invited warmly, scooping a large spoonful of rice onto her plate before passing the bowl to Tech. “I’ve met some interesting characters there.”

“I’m not surprised,” Breslin chuckled, breaking apart her small bread roll with her fingers before searching for some butter.

“I got you,” Wrecker said, passing the covered dish to her.

“Thanks, handsome!” she said with a smile, and Hunter smirked at the tiny blush on Wrecker’s cheeks. “To answer your question,” she continued, addressing Phee now as she swiped a bit of butter across the roll. “I didn’t know what to do when I first got there… I’m assuming you all know the circumstances under which I arrived?”

A round of nods.

“Feels nice to have that all out in the open,” Lyra said quietly, suddenly shy at the many pairs of eyes on her and relieved when they returned to her daughter.

“Sweet. So the first order of business was to get some communication equipment. But my chunk of credits was running out pretty quickly. I found a temp job as a nighttime janitor at the local City Hall, which is honestly just a front for all kinds of unsavory characters to make deals,” she chuckled. “I learned quickly to keep my head down. I definitely didn’t see anything suspicious. Nope.” She winked at Echo in response to his knowing smirk.

“You’ve got more sense than most,” Phee chuckled.

“I was scared karkless,” she admitted, casting a quick glance toward Omega, then around the table. “Sorry–” she corrected quickly. Echo gasped in feigned shock and horror, and she laughed at his theatrics. “Okay, got it. Anyway, they realized pretty quickly that I was handy to have around. I fixed a bunch of stuff and tried to be as useful as possible. So they took me on full time, still with the night cleaning duties but also for general equipment upkeep. I made some nerd friends. Joined a “radio enthusiasts club”. And just tried to settle in despite having no idea if or when I’d be able to get in touch with Mom.”

She cast a fond glance at Lyra, who was sitting across from her with Hunter’s chair close beside, and was met with a depth of love that was unmistakable to anyone watching, especially him. The congeniality of family dinners was almost always palpable, and the weekly tradition had become a staple in each of their lives as they came together with gratitude for their safety and serenity. Crosshair’s softened demeanor and occasional snark, Echo’s quick wit and expertise, Wrecker’s enthusiasm and delight with life, Tech’s creativity and thoughtfulness, Phee’s insight and warmth, and Omega’s optimism and kindness all crafted a perfect atmosphere for Hunter to relax into joy and contentment.

Conversation continued as they helped themselves to the thick slices of meat fanned out across a plate, and Wrecker was unabashedly excited to see the platter of roasted vegetables from Lyra’s garden.

“I’ve missed this!” he exclaimed as he scooped nearly a quarter of them onto his plate, ignoring Tech’s exasperated protest that he was claiming more than the allotted percentage for each individual in attendance. Hunter cast a side glance at Lyra, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

He’d missed it too.

“How are the jobs, Omega?” Crosshair asked from the end of the table.

“Great!” she responded with a bright smile. “The nurses at the clinic are so kind and encouraging, and the medical procedures they let me attend are absolutely fascinating!” Phee winked at Tech after nudging his elbow with a warm grin.

“Have you trained with the surgical droid yet?” Tech asked, re-entering the conversation after a private moment with the beautiful woman beside him.

“Only once,” Omega nodded. “He’s got a lot of personality. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have AZI working with him.” She laughed, memories of their recent scuffle surfacing in her mind. “Sometimes they sound like siblings. But I think he’s happy to have a friend. Well, another friend… I mean, I guess everyone is his friend.”

A chuckle echoed from a few of them, and with the continued clinking of plates and glasses, the rest of dinner flowed by with relaxed conversation and a bit of bickering, as always. The velvet sky spread above them, arching across the balcony patio with twinkling stars competing for attention behind the string lights over the table. As the evening wrapped up, they said their goodbyes and made for their own homes. Breslin was renting a small, one-room cabin behind the local doctor’s house, having opted for her own space but remaining nearby for frequent visits and lunch dates with Lyra. She gave her mom a warm hug before turning toward the path, accompanied by Omega, who had been drawn to her from the start.

Wrecker gave Hunter a knowing clap on the back as he passed him on his way home, nodding toward the sea where the paths split, one leading toward their cabin in the woods, the other leading to Lyra’s cliffside cottage.

“Don’t be home too late,” he said, under his breath, but they both heard him clear as day. Hunter gave him a little push as he continued on his way, his echoing chuckles dancing on the breeze back toward them as they headed for Lyra’s together. Hunter offered his arm. She took it with a grin.

They stopped only when they reached her porch, having chatted quietly the entire way. Hunter was continually amazed by their ability to somehow talk about everything and nothing at all, and when she sheepishly opened her arms for a hug, he slipped his own around her shoulders, relishing the way she rested her head against him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured against her hair.

“Always,” she said softly, and his heart swelled in his chest.

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