#and seasonally depressed and holiday depressed there different things

[tragically-jane-doe]

THE FUCKING PANIC I JUST GOT

Look I know it's a bot but fun fact my bio dads name is Mike and for a few seconds there I was terrified that that man found me thru tumblr

[lokiiied]

i heard the weather god’s made your favourite…dark & rainy with perchance some stormy conditions tomorrow 👀 wanna find out? 🖤🌩️

[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: 10k 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: merry early christmas guys to those who celebrate 🥹 series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Christmas is coming up soon. In about two-ish weeks, give or take. In this case, you’re giving. It’s December 14th, and the days are passing by too fast for your liking. You wish you had more time—to do a lot of things, actually. Luckily, with your rent being paid along with next month’s, that’s given you at least some sort of freedom. 

You can thank your ex for that. 

So, you’ve been saving for Koji, spending less on yourself. Not like you did much of that in the first place, but still. Again, guilt riddles your insides, insecurities plaguing your mind. Koji has never been a spoiled kid, having grown up quite frugally because of his equally frugal mother. Your tree, something you bargained for at the nearby spot in town that sells trees for the holiday season, is bottom of the barrel. Of course it is, you bargained for it. Sparse areas, branches way too thin and tiny, the height of the entire thing is just about as tall as you are. You keep your box of Christmas decorations so you never have to buy new ones each year. The lights you use are a warm yellow, with a few little bulbs dark because they burnt out. It wraps around your tree in a very messy way—Koji’s doing. A floppy white star placed at the very top of your tree, just barely holding on. 

Little pieces of decorations hang from the frail branches: some snowflakes, red and blue balls (Koji said they looked like Spider-Man), and your most favorite one of them all that sits at the top: a picture of you and Koji from a photo booth two years ago. He was only three and you could still carry him then. Chubby cheekbones on display, a wide smile to match. You two are wearing Santa hats, head tilting into his with an equally ecstatic smile. You can’t look too long at it before you start getting emotional. 

So mom of you. 

Anywho, your point is that while the setup may look dull and even unattractive to most, you still find warmth in it. So does your little boy too. Although he doesn’t exactly know better, considering all you’ve ever had was skinny trees and years-old decorations, he doesn’t complain. 

Of course, he does ask you sometimes about why the trees in the movies look different or why his friends have entirely decorated houses and you two don’t. You bottle it up to a simple, “Well, we’re not like other people, baby.”

He understands—most of the time. 

Even so, he doesn’t show disrespect. As long as he spends time with you, getting even just three gifts, it’s all enough for him. So you feel guilty for not giving him the full Christmas experience a child should get, you feel insecure that other people are having the holiday season so much better than you are, and if you could, you’d do anything to ensure Koji has a real Christmas one time. At least once. It’s the least you can do as his mother, and it’s the least he deserves. 

Because the holidays are meant for happiness, cheeriness, and family time. All things that feel very forced for you right now. 

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

Your lips purse, hoping it resembles a smile. But Shoko always reads you easily, dissecting your emotions. “You too, how have you been?”

“As good as I can. Late nights, exhausted, seeing someone’s leg split in half. You know, the usual.”

A small chuckle falls from you, nodding in silence. “I’m glad you were able to do what you want. ER work, right?”

“Yep,” Shoko hums, leaning back against the bench, coffee in hand. “Though I did have a friend who helped me get through it all so quickly.”

“Really? Who?”

“Cheating.” She smirks behind the rim of her cup. 

Your eyes roll, sighing as you mimic her posture. It feels odd seeing her again for the first time after so many years. You gathered the courage to text her number, feeling distraught and overwhelmed last night. Right after you sent the text asking her to meet up the next morning, you slightly regretted it. Does she think I’m weird? What if she says no? God, what is wrong with me?

Your doubts were proved wrong when she replied with a simple “See you”. Simplicity was always Shoko’s thing. Something that you almost envied from the woman. You wish you had composure like her. Of course, her life isn’t exactly simple considering she’s dealing with people with broken anything and blood all the time, but you can tell she thoroughly enjoys it. She finds pleasure in her job. 

Again, this is something you’re also slightly envious of. 

“So….” She finally says after a beat of silence, turning her head over at you. “I want to ask the obvious, but I think I’ll wait. I want to see how you’re doing first.”

You worry your lip between your teeth, peering down at your fiddling fingers. The words are a little hard to get out, and a little embarrassing too. You don’t really want to vent to her after years of no contact, but it’s hard not to. At this point, you’re like a broken dam. Spilling and spilling by the minute until you completely break down. “Things could be better. I just have a lot on my mind and what I’m dealing with.”

She nods in understanding. “Like the articles and stuff?”

You sigh heavily in exhaustion, raising two fingers to rub the space between your brows. “Yeah, that’s one of them. You seen ‘em?”

“Many people have.”

Of course. “I just don’t get it. Why is it such a big deal he has a son no one knew about? Are these kinds of ‘issues’ really that important to rich people like him? Like, c’mon. It’s not like he killed a man. He has a son but everyone’s treating and acting like this is horrendous and astounding news that we should be fearful of.”

Shoko tilts her head, her gaze steady but not intrusive. “Rich people thrive on spectacle, you know that. Every little thing becomes a headline, especially when someone like Gojo, Japan’s sexiest man alive of 2024, is involved. He’s a household name, Y/N.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. You forgot the fact that he’s been given that title. The article popped up on your Google just yesterday, giving in and tapping on it. The first picture that greets you is a very intimate, black-and-white picture of Satoru shirtless, with unbelted pants. He wasn’t looking at the camera in that one, but the way his arms were raised, accentuating his biceps made you feel a tiny throb. The first of many from that photoshoot the article included. “But why does it have to be this? Why is it such a scandal that he has a kid? Like, what are they even expecting from us? An apology? A press conference where we swear to never let it happen again?”

Shoko’s smirk is faint but wry. “You think logic applies here? The higher the pedestal, the harsher the fall. Gojo’s not just rich—he’s Gojo. Untouchable, perfect, untamed. Add a secret kid to the mix, and it’s like handing tabloids their golden ticket.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “It’s so stupid. They’re acting like we’re some corrupt dynasty with skeletons bursting out of the closet. It’s not even a big deal!”

Shoko takes a sip of her drink, watching you with a calmness that somehow makes you feel seen. “It’s not a big deal to us, no. But to them? It’s betrayal, gossip, leverage—anything but what it really is. Just life.”

Her words settle in your chest, a grounding sort of clarity that you hadn’t realized you needed. You couldn’t—probably ever—understand the thought process of the elites of Japan. You’re a bit glad that you won’t. But in this situation, you just wish they would think like normal fucking people for one second. That’s hard to do when you grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth and everything at your fingertips. You peer over at her, your lips pressing together as you process everything. “I just…I don’t want Koji dragged into this. He doesn’t deserve it. That’s one of the main reasons why I kept everything a secret in the first place. But now look at us, everything has just changed so…so fast. I’m not ready for it, neither is my son.”

She lets the quiet air linger for a moment, your venting finding placement. “No, he doesn’t deserve it,” Shoko agrees. Her tone is firm, an anchor in the storm of your thoughts. “And neither do you. But the way I see it, you’ve got two choices: let them dictate how this plays out, or take control of the narrative yourself.” Her words linger, the weight of them grounding and unsettling all at once. Taking control of the narrative sounds easy in theory, but the reality feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, the wind threatening to knock you over.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter.

Shoko shrugs, but there’s an edge of reassurance in her expression. “True, but you’ve already been through worse. You’ve got more strength in you than you give yourself credit for. And if anyone can handle this mess, it’s you.”

Her confidence in you feels foreign but comforting. You nod slowly, gripping onto her words like a lifeline. “Thanks, Shoko.”

“Anytime.” She raises her cup slightly in a mock toast, her smile small but sincere. A beat flows through, a comfortable silence. The two of you watch the snow cover the ground with its beauty, the sun barely peeking through the cloudy, muted sky. You can’t help but draw the parallel. The sun, peeking, but hidden behind the heavy clouds, yet still present—trying, despite the odds. That’s you, isn’t it? Not gone, not entirely defeated, but dulled. Struggling to shine through the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Shoko breaks the silence with a soft chuckle. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Quiet, too. Almost makes you forget the world’s still a mess.”

You nod, your gaze following the gentle swirl of snowflakes. “Yeah… It’s like everything’s paused for a moment. Peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoes, leaning back in her seat. “Funny how something so fleeting can feel so permanent in the moment.” Her expression stirs something inside you—a quiet ache you’ve been trying to suppress. You glance at her, lips parting, but the words get stuck in your throat. She doesn’t push, doesn’t probe. Shoko’s always been good at giving space without making it feel like a void. Instead, she takes a long sip of her drink and says, “You know, snow’s a great equalizer. Covers up the mess, and makes everything look the same. Like the world gets a second chance. It’s the start of something new.”

Those words make you immediately remember Satoru’s. Snow’s the start of something new. That should be a good thing, right? You should be glad. However, how many more changes have to happen until something good comes your way? There’s only so much one can go through in such a short amount of time.  But as Shoko said, you have more strength than you think. You’ve been through worse. And while that may be true, at this fleeting moment, that couldn’t be any further from the truth. It’s easy for her to say since she’s not actually living your life. 

You haven’t exactly talked talked to Satoru yet about all this, about what he’ll say, what his parents will do. But they probably have good lawyers, right? Maybe they’ll put out a statement that any further harassment will be met with legal action. Or he’ll take pride in his son and show no regrets. You really don’t know. Your optimistic side wishes that Satoru will deal with this smoothly and how you want him to. But your pessimistic side says this will continue on until who knows how long. People randomly coming up to you, making remarks on social media, finding your job, finding your own social media accounts that you’ve had to take down.

Seriously, why the fuck do they care so much? Even after Shoko’s explanation, it’s still not enough for you. At the end of the day, we’re all human, we all do human things. Jesus Christ, you could never last a day in Satoru’s position. On constant public display and scrutiny, it’s exhausting and infuriating. 

Satoru’s taken Koji off your hands for the while. It’s around four in the evening now. Although you were hesitant at first, he assured you he would do his absolute best to make sure nothing wrong happens and that he stays safe. And besides, it’s nice to have the place to yourself for a few hours. It’s confusing, because while at times you feel so defeatedly lonely, other times you welcome it with open arms. 

But every parent probably feels like that, right? Praising the day they get even two hours to themselves, not worrying about making sure your child isn’t choking. 

Anywho, you’ve taken the liberty to take a nice and warm refreshing bath. The heat does wonders to your skin, sighing wistfully and eyes closing in relaxation. The warmth envelops you like a comforting embrace, melting away the tension you didn’t realize had settled in your shoulders. It’s rare, these moments of solitude—where the only sound is the faint ripple of water as you shift slightly in the tub. You sink deeper, letting the heat seep into your muscles, as if the bath could wash away not just the stress of parenting but the heaviness of everything else weighing on you.

You tilt your head back against the rim of the tub, exhaling a deep sigh. It’s strange how quiet the apartment feels without Koji’s laughter or even Satoru’s voice filling the space. Strange, but not unwelcome. For once, there’s no background noise, no constant buzz of responsibility. Just you and the stillness. You almost wish you can share this stillness with someone else, but throw that thought out your mind fast. 

Your fingers trail through the water absentmindedly, thoughts wandering. You wonder what Satoru and Koji are up to—probably indulging in some sugary snack you’d never approve of at this hour of the day because Koji’s sugar rushes just last so long. The image makes you smile faintly. Despite everything, Satoru’s been trying. And even if you don’t say it aloud, you notice. He’s been so good with him, the two are incredibly close and it’s like the past five years of absence never existed. You always knew Satoru was that type of man. He got along with kids well, children almost seemed to magically gravitate towards him. It’s…very attractive. 

Once the bathwater starts to cool, you decide to reluctantly push yourself upright. Wrapping a towel around yourself. You pad into the bedroom, the cold air nipping at your damp skin. With Koji gone until probably around eight or nine, the silence settles over you once again. You glance at the clock on the nightstand—still hours to go before they return. You grab a soft blanket and curl up on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly. Nothing really holds your attention, but it feels nice just to sit, undisturbed. As you take a sip of tea, you can’t help but think: Maybe you should let yourself enjoy these moments more.

It’s hard, but you should probably make more of an effort to take care of yourself. If you’re out of it, you’ll be unfit to care for Koji. And that’s your biggest nightmare ever. You blankly watch whatever show is playing after turning the TV on, but your mind seems much more louder than the voices from the characters on screen. You wish you could just shut off the constant worry, stressing, and overthinking about pretty much everything in your life. 

Before you know it, your feet are guiding you back up, leading you down the hallway and to your room. The closet is to your left, a single door with a small lightbulb overhead that weakly shines its light and illuminates the inside. Your clothes hung up, shoes on the floor. Some of Koji’s old toys lay next to your shoes, having meant to donate them but never getting around to it. You go down to your knees, moving further inside the small closet. Having to push a few jackets to the side for better visibility, moving your shoes out the way. Stuffed in the very corner of your closet lies a worn black box. When you pull it out from its hiding spot, the lightbulb makes visible faint letters that are threatening to peel away. 

Cheap markers. 

There’s little dribbles of flowers and smiley faces along the sides, a stick figure image of a boy and girl. The boy’s eyes are drawn with the brightest blue marker you both found out the time. It’s a little shitty representation, but the boy’s line for an arm is connected to the girl’s arm; holding hands.  

OUR WORLD

Something you both agreed was cheesy, though you thought of it. He wrote it. You had the ideas, he made them come to life. 

Your breath catches as you brush your fingers over the worn box. The faded decorations are a time capsule—a reflection of a simpler, yet complicated past. A mix of laughter, innocence, and heartbreak lingers on its surface, as if the box itself holds memories you’ve long since buried. You hesitate for a moment, thumb tracing over the stick figures. The blue-eyed boy. The girl with a faint red-lipped smile. The images were so carelessly drawn back then, yet they now carry an almost painful clarity. A reminder of what once was—and what could never quite be again. Sliding the top off the box, you’re immediately greeted by the faint scent of old paper and something else merely nostalgic. Photographs, letters, and random trinkets fill the space. A keychain, an old movie ticket stub, and at the very top, a small folded note with handwriting you recognize instantly.  

"To my favorite person,  

No matter where life takes us, remember this moment, okay? This one is ours."

His handwriting feels more impactful than you thought it would. Your chest tightens as you unfold the note fully, memories flooding back with each word. Satoru had written this. Back when things were different—when the two of you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. When promises felt unbreakable and the future seemed...possible.  

You carefully place the note back into the box, your hands trembling slightly. There’s so much in this little box that you’ve avoided for years. So much of what you were, who you were, with him. And now, it feels like the box is staring back at you, asking the question you’ve avoided for so long.  

What are you going to do with all of this?  

Why have you kept this? After all the time? You remember telling yourself the day of your break up that you’d throw everything out—burn it all. But everytime you even touched it, you came to a brutal realization. You can’t. For some reason, you couldn’t get rid of it, couldn’t bring harm to this reminder of the lives you’ve lived and left behind.

You found comfort in the idea that one day in the future, you would be able to. But you also found comfort in the box itself. Oh how wrong you were. And that fact twists at your heart, your blood wringing out in the process. Leaving you with a dull and soulless shell. Staring down at the remnants, going through them—everytime. Maybe you haven’t ever had the strength to get rid of it, you wonder if you ever will. 

Pictures of your younger self, of Satoru’s younger self smile up at you like they’re taunting you. As if the past can sense the future’s despair. They’re simple pictures, cute but simple. Just how you two wanted it. The quality isn’t that great, considering most of them were taken on shitty disposable cameras. 

“Because it’s sustainable!” You argued when Satoru questioned the device when you first pulled it out. He simply scoffed and rolled his eyes, lips upturning into a smile the second you readied the device for a photo.

A picture is worth a thousand words. 

Whoever came up with that phrase is a genius, but you also despise how much truth is held to that single sentence. Pain. Nostalgia. Longing. Happiness. Regret?

Flipping through the small pictures is like going through your very own time capsule. Each snapshot carries a story, a moment frozen in time that feels both distant and heartbreakingly close. The childish doodles lining the box seem to echo your younger self’s voice, innocent and untouched by the weight of reality. A photo catches your eye—a little blurry but unmistakably Satoru, grinning with his arms slung lazily over your shoulders. Your cheeks in the picture are flushed, and you can almost hear the laughter that must’ve been spilling from your lips when it was taken.

Then there’s another, of the two of you sitting under a sprawling tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves. His hand rests on yours, casual but intimate in a way that makes your chest ache now. You remember the warmth of that day, the way he’d joked about how your hair glowed in the light.

There’s a card, too, nestled beneath the pictures. The corners are slightly bent, but the words inside are still intact. His handwriting is unmistakable, bold and messy:

“To the girl who makes my world brighter every day. Don’t ever stop smiling—it’s my favorite thing about you. Love, Satoru.”

“Hah, I didn’t know you were such a poet.” You teased. 

“Ugh, shut up.”

Your fingers trace over the ink, your breath halting. Time may have passed, and life may have twisted and turned, but this box feels like a portal to a version of you that still believed in endless possibilities. And yet, the ache in your chest doesn’t falter. Instead, it lingers, a reminder of how much has changed—and how much you wish hadn’t.

The final picture is one that almost tears at you. A silly one that you would’ve never imagined would push at your heart like a heavy door stuck in the way of your own contentment. You’re kissing him, the side profile of your two faces as you indulge in each other's lips. Satoru’s free arm slightly out of frame since he’s the one holding the camera high. You both are holding your left hands up, showing off your Ring Pops on each of your ring fingers. His red, yours blue.

“Let’s pose like a couple who just got married!”

You sighed. “Satoru….”

Written on the white border frame of the photo are the words:

She said yes!! 

A melancholic laugh escapes you, tears hitting the picture. It’s colors are already slightly altered from previous wetness. Your chest feels tight, eyes closing with a sinking stomach. Why do you always do this to yourself when you’re already feeling upset? Why are you still so affected by it? Will it get better with time? But how much more time?

You gasp and flinch when the front door is rung, eyes widening as you swiftly and messily put the contents back in, sliding the top back on and stuffing the box in its hiding spot once more. After closing the door, you walk down the hall and to the peephole. Your brows furrow. “Satoru?” You ask as you open the door. Confusion hits you, seeing your sleeping son in his father’s arms. Koji’s backpack slid on top of Satoru’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Um…dropping Koji off?” He replies back like it’s the obvious, his own pale eyebrows knitting as he regards you. “…Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Shit. “I’m not,” your hands raise to your cheeks, wiping any trace of your previous emotional breakdown, swiftly denying his words. “I thought you were coming back later.”

“It is later, Y/N.” He frowns and steps in, allowing you a better view of the dark night sky. 

What the hell? Since when did it get dark? Slowly, you close and lock the door, blinking rapidly as you try to gather your bearings. Just how long were you on the couch for? How long were you reminiscing? Turning around, you see Satoru come out from Koji’s room.

“Put him down, showered and dressed him already. Little man played a lot today.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say. You lean against the door for a moment, trying to regain your composure. Satoru’s words feel oddly domestic, almost like you’re living a life you’ve long since moved on from dreaming about—or tried to.

He sets Koji’s backpack down by the couch, brushing invisible dust off his sleeves as he glances your way. “You sure you’re okay?” His voice softens now, genuine. Concerned.

You force a small smile, crossing your arms. “I’m fine. Just…lost track of time, I guess.”

Satoru studies you, his crystalline eyes searching your face like he doesn’t quite believe you. He shrugs lightly, though, not wanting to push. “Alright. Koji was great today. Took him to that park he keeps talking about. Got some ice cream. He wore me out.” His lips quirk into a small grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thanks for doing that,” you say softly, glancing toward Koji’s room. “He loves spending time with you. He always talks to me about your guys’ missions.”

“Hah, yeah, well…” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, leaning his tall frame casually against the wall. “I love spending time with him, too. And you know, it’s not just for him.” His words are light, but there’s a weight behind them, one you’re not sure you’re ready to unpack tonight. You don’t know what he really means by that, but it’s probably best that you don’t. You’d look into it too much. And like he said, you’re already complicating things even more by almost kissing him the other day. 

You nod, your throat tightening as you look anywhere but at him. “I should probably check on him. Make sure he’s really asleep.”

“Y/N.” His voice stops you in your tracks.

You turn slowly, meeting his gaze. “What?” you ask, your voice smaller than you intended.

He hesitates for a moment, his brows furrowing as though he’s deciding whether or not to say what’s on his mind. Finally, he sighs and steps closer. “If something’s bothering you…you can talk to me. You know that, right? You look like you’re crying and I—”

Your heart clenches, the sincerity in his voice almost too much to bear. “I know,” you manage to cut him off, your voice sharper than you had wanted it to be.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. Then, Satoru clears his throat and steps back. “Alright. Guess I’ll head out, then. Call me if you need anything.” You hum, watching as he heads for the door. Just before he leaves, he pauses, glancing back at you one last time. His eyes linger for a second longer than they should, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

And you’re left alone again, the weight of the evening settling back over you like a familiar, unwelcome blanket. You want to scold yourself for losing track of time so easily, letting yourself get lost for such a long time. He probably thinks something’s wrong, and while you appreciate him being mature and overall cordial enough to offer his ear, you don’t want to give him that. It’s embarrassing and almost too vulnerable for you right now to vent to your ex. 

You know that saying that the last thing or person you think about before you fall asleep is what you’ll dream of? He stares at the door, trying to will himself into stopping his train of thought, but the vision of you won’t leave. Not tonight. Maybe it’s the nagging scent of your clothes he can still smell, or maybe it’s the way you looked so raw, so unguarded. Maybe it’s the promise he made to himself years ago to never let you go, to never let you fall apart without him. Now look where he is.

Satoru’s mind is a whirlwind as he steps back into the cold, dark air of his penthouse, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality he wasn’t quite ready for. He should’ve left things simple, right? Drop off Koji, make sure everything’s okay, and then go. But of course, he couldn’t help himself. He had to ask, had to reach for that sliver of connection that still seemed to remain between the two of you, even after all this time. Or maybe he’s not reaching, he’s just being a good person. Or maybe there is no sliver of connection at all.

He rubs his face with one hand as he walks down the hall, his thoughts staying on your expression, the tightness in your smile, the way you tried so hard to hide whatever was eating at you. Your red eyes that seemed glossy enough to tell him what you had been doing before he arrived. He should’ve pushed, should’ve stayed longer, but something told him it wasn’t the right time. Also, not to mention the fact that he’s not entitled to know anymore, and he shouldn’t want to. He wishes he could forget—wishes it wasn’t so easy for him to still care about you after everything you’ve put him through.

Still, his mind can’t stop replaying the way you looked tonight, like you were holding back—like you were on the edge of something he couldn’t reach. And now, that’s the last image he sees before closing his eyes: you, standing there, fragile but strong, trying to put on a brave face when he knew you were anything but okay. 

He slides into his bed, sinking into the comforting mattress. Stop thinking about it, he tells himself. Just go to sleep.

But it's useless. The thought of you doesn't leave him. It never does in times like this. But that's the thing, isn't it? He always cared. Always would. Any good man would

As the awaited sleep stretches on, his mind drifts back to those moments—the way you wiped your face quickly when he mentioned the tears. How you didn’t let him in. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this.

Before he knows it, he feels the weight of his own exhaustion, the pull of sleep starting to take over. He lets his eyes stay shut. Stretching out on the bed, his thoughts blurring into a fizzle. The room is quiet, too quiet. But just like that, he’s falling and falling into a realm where the weight of everything else disappears.

The first thing he sees startles him. It’s just you, standing in front of him again, your eyes locked with his. 

You’re both staring at one another before it’s like someone slowly raising the light switches. Sun peeking through the blinds of the kitchen you two stand in as you place a hand down to your stomach. When his eyes follow it, he then notices the rounded swell that’s visible from beneath the dress you wear. 

“Hey, you’re awake.”

You giggle, voice smooth and inviting, stepping closer to him until you can reach his hand, intertwining your fingers. 

Yep, definitely a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. 

“I made you breakfast, your favorite.” You guide his hand to your bump, chuckling softly. “But baby here was getting hungry, so we may have gotten a little taste test before.”

Satoru’s heart skips a beat, his fingers instinctively brushing over your rounded stomach as you guide them there. The warmth of your skin under his touch feels real, too real, and his mind stumbles, trying to make sense of the situation. The room around you starts to feel like a glimpse into an alternative universe. Soft, golden light spilling in through the blinds, the smell of something warm and inviting persisting in the air. It’s almost too perfect, too serene to be real. And yet, he’s standing here, his breath caught in his throat as his fingers rest against the gentle curve of your belly. The weight of it, the life growing inside you, sends a quiet thrill through him.

You giggle, the sound of it so familiar it makes his chest ache. It’s like nothing has changed. Like you’re the same as you’ve always been, only…this time, things are different. There’s a quiet tenderness in the air that wasn’t there before. He swallows, trying to fight the growing confusion in his chest. “I—I don’t understand,” he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the small, soft swell of your stomach. He knows it’s not real, but it doesn’t stop his brain from wandering into beliefs of if it were. “How… how are we here?”

Your smile widens, that knowing glimmer in your eyes that makes his chest tighten with something he can’t name. “We’re here because this is where we belong,” you say simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. You nudge his hand a little lower, guiding him to feel the tiny movement beneath his palm, the small shift of life inside you.

It’s then that the weight of the moment hits him all at once, his heart thumping in his chest. The quiet reality of what you’ve built together, the life you’ve shared, and everything that could’ve been. He’s overwhelmed, caught between longing and disbelief. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again. “Is this what you wanted? What we wanted?”

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his chest, your fingers still entwined with his. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. What we have always wanted. Stop acting weird.” Your words are a balm, soothing yet laced with something deeper, something that speaks to both of your hearts, even if this is fake.

In this moment, everything feels right. It feels like you’re back to where you both belong.

Satoru stays still for a moment, the warmth of your forehead pressed against him, your fingers gently intertwining with his. The softness of the moment seems to wrap around him, the image of you—here, with him—so perfect that it almost hurts. The softness of your touch, the way your body feels against his as you stand close, it’s like he’s been starved of this connection for so long. A quiet ache settles deep within him, but it’s not the hurt he’s used to. No, this is something else—something far more complicated.

He shifts slightly, his gaze never leaving yours as you lift your head. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel this again,” he admits, his voice low and tentative. The vulnerability in his tone catches him off guard, but it feels natural, like you’ve always been the one person he could let his guard down with. “You and…us. Everything that’s happened.”

You hum softly, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. The smile on your lips is small but full of quiet understanding. “I know, Satoru,” you say, your voice steady, like you’ve been carrying this weight for far longer than he ever realized. “But this…” You glance down at your stomach before meeting his eyes again, “This is what we fought for. This is what we still have.”

He feels the truth of your words settle into him, but it’s a bittersweet sensation, one that pulls at something deep inside of him. It’s almost too good to be true, this version of reality, and he can’t help but wonder why his mind has conjured up this visualization—this perfect picture of you and him, together in a way he never thought possible.

“But what if we don’t get it right?” he asks quietly, his brow furrowing in uncertainty. “What if we’re too broken to fix it? We’ve made so many mistakes…”

You place a gentle finger against his lips, silencing him before he can spiral further. “We’ve always been broken, Satoru,” you say softly, “But we’ve always found our way back to each other. And that’s enough. Right?”

The way you say it, so sure of yourself, sends a warmth through his chest. It’s a peace he didn’t think he would ever have again. His heart beats a little faster, a little steadier, as he finally lets go of the lingering doubts, the fear of what’s beyond this moment. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the weight in his chest. “I don’t know what’s next, but for now… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes soften, and for a moment, he sees it—the connection between you two, unbroken, unshakable. Even in the midst of everything that’s happened, the messy past and the uncertainty of the future, he realizes that some things are worth fighting for. “This is enough for me,” you whisper, closing the distance between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s gentle, but it carries everything—everything he’s been wanting to say, everything he’s been longing to hear.

And god, the way your pretty lips feel against his is heavenly. It’s strong and long-lasting. Hand to your cheek as his head tilts to deepen it, feeling your warm breath enter his mouth like a soft pull. He’s tempted to dance his tongue along your own.

As you pull away, he feels a quiet peace settle over him. The dream, though fleeting, has given him something he didn’t know he needed. A glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they can find their way back to each other for good.

But the atmosphere darkens, like putting a blanket over a lamp. Your own eyes dulling into something he saw before he left you tonight, something he’s been seeing everytime he visits you. Your smile dropping into a placid emotion. Satoru’s heart stutters in his chest, the warmth of the moment slipping away like sand between his fingers. The light around you seems to fade, the world losing its softness and vibrancy. A chill washes over him, creeping through his veins like ice water. Your smile, once so gentle and inviting, disappears into something far more distant, as if a part of you has shut down completely. The joy that had filled the air vanishes, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence that wraps itself around both of you. His eyes widen in confusion, and he takes a step back, searching your face for any hint of explanation. He feels the air shift into a freezing temperature.

"What—?" He stops himself, his words catching in his throat, trying to make sense of the drastic shift in the atmosphere. The way your hand falls to your side feels like a finality, as though the reality he had just witnessed—of you, of the hope in your eyes—was nothing more than a simple illusion.

The weight of the silence presses down on him, smothering. His gaze moves down, and that's when he realizes the baby bump has vanished. There’s nothing there. The roundness, the warmth, the promise of new life—gone. In its place, there's only the smooth curve of your stomach, flat and unchanged.

"Y/N?" His voice cracks on your name, disoriented and desperate for some kind of explanation. "What happened? What…what’s going on?"

But you don’t answer right away. Instead, you look at him like you’ve seen a stranger, a shift in your eyes that only deepens the growing pit in his stomach. Your gaze is cold, distant, almost as if you've already resigned yourself to something. Satoru swallows hard, his hand instinctively reaching for you, but when his fingers brush against your arm, it feels like the connection is completely severed. "What’s wrong? Talk to me," he pleads, his voice raw and filled with confusion. 

You take a slow, deliberate step back, the air between you two growing heavier. "Satoru," you say, but your voice sounds far too calm, far too final. "This is the reality, isn't it? This is what it always was—always will be. A dream. A fantasy."

His mind races, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, this isn’t a fantasy! We—we had a chance. You and me, and Koji…and the other…We were—" His throat tightens, unable to finish his sentence.

But you cut him off, the finality in your words sinking deep. "You left, Satoru. You just wanted us to end, didn’t you? It’s why you didn’t fight for me the day we broke up—fight for us. You made me make that promise. You left, and that’s what this is now. A memory. The past. Something we’ll never, ever get back.”

The words land like a blow to his chest, sharp and cutting. His chest tightens as he searches your face, willing for you to show him that this is just another moment in the dream—that the warmth would come back, that the hope would return. But your eyes are cold. The distance between you feels insurmountable.

He opens his mouth to speak, to argue, to fix whatever it is that's wrong—but nothing comes out. The truth is, he doesn’t know how to fix this. Not anymore. Not when everything between you feels so broken, like fragments of a life he no longer knows how to put together. 

And just like that, the warmth of the dream fades completely, leaving him in the cold, dark reality of what’s been lost.

“I wish I kept Koji from you. I wish you weren’t his father.”

Satoru startles awake, jolting upright in his bed. He feels like he’s just been splashed with ice cold water, in a way, he has. Raising his hands to his temples, face scrunching in discomfort. He’s breathing fast and hard, heart feeling like it’ll just pop right out. His hands trembling. 

The sounds of birds tweeting a song is what he hears next. The morning light filters softly through the curtains, but it feels blinding to him, harsh against the remnants of the nightmare. His chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath shallow and frantic, his heart still racing as he fights to steady himself. The words you spoke echo in his mind, sharp and cutting. I wish I kept Koji from you. I wish you weren’t his father. The pain in those words, the hurt, is still so vivid in his memory. 

Satoru places his hands on the sides of his face, trying to ground himself. His fingers dig into his skin, as if the physical pressure could somehow push away the remnants of the dream, make it vanish. But it lingers. It hangs heavy in the air, suffocating him. Why did you say that? Why did you feel that way? Do you actually feel that way in real life? Are you planning to take Koji and run away with him again? Did you seriously regret having a child with him?

He inhales deeply, his breath shaky, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. The sound of birds chirping in the distance serves as a reminder that the world continues to move outside of his turmoil, but it only makes him feel more disconnected. He pushes the blankets off of him and swings his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. His mind races, trying to make sense of what he’s feeling. That dream—it wasn’t just a nightmare. It felt like a warning, a reminder of how fragile everything has been, how much he’s lost. How much he’s failed.

The promise.

The weight of what’s happened between you two settles heavily on his shoulders. And it makes him feel cautious—scared that you’ll do what you said you wouldn’t, all over again. 

Satoru stands, his body still trembling slightly, and walks toward the window. He peers outside, letting the light touch his face, even if it’s almost too bright for him right now. It’s peaceful outside, the world as it always is in the morning: calm, serene, untouched. But his own mind is a storm, and no amount of sunlight seems to clear the clouds. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream, the guilt gnawing at him. The idea of you saying that you wished you’d kept Koji from him—the thought cuts deeper than he’s willing to admit. What does that mean for the future? 

What does it mean for him?

Satoru feels his heart aching with the need to fix things, to understand if you actually feel that way. But he's left in the quiet chaos of his own mind, unsure of where to begin. And that's the worst part: not knowing where to start.

Whatever, it was just a dream. Dreams aren’t real. Don’t think too much into it. 

A text message pings, causing him to look over. The sight of your name forms a twisting feeling to reside in his core, frowning. It’s like when you dream about your significant other cheating on you, so the next morning you’re a little mad at them for no reason. But this time, he’s not sure if it’s for no reason. 

Maybe you actually feel like this, feeling regret for not keeping Koji from him any longer. You’ve obviously shown to be good at keeping secrets, so who’s to say you’re not still doing that. He grabs his phone, clicking on your message and pushing down the resentment that continues to bloom once more. 

Y/N:

Hey, have u had any luck with the leaker? 

Satoru sighs heavily, eyes closing momentarily before opening them back up and typing you back. He can’t help the shortness in his response. 

Satoru:

No 

Y/N:

Pls let me know of any changes

He doesn’t bother replying, tossing his phone on his bed and getting up and ready for the day. Of course the thought of the identity of who leaked the photo has been running rampant in his mind day in and day out. But he just woke up from a particularly scary nightmare—or a message?—and he doesn’t need his mind overwhelmed anymore than it is right now. 

As he goes through his morning routine, Satoru can’t shake the consistent unease. The nightmare, your text, and the weight of everything that’s been happening swirl in his mind like a storm he can’t escape. He brushes his teeth with more force than necessary, gripping the sink as the toothpaste foam spills over his lips. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, his pale blue eyes duller than usual, rimmed with exhaustion.

He can’t stop wondering—what if there’s truth to his nightmare? What if you do regret letting him into Koji’s life? The thought gnaws at him, a relentless ache in his chest.  

The leak complicates things even further. Someone out there—someone close enough to know—exposed him and Koji to the world. The conversation with his mother plays again internally. Someone close or possibly a business partner. But what if she’s wrong? What if it’s someone who’s not close, but still smart enough? And while it’s caused a media frenzy, he knows the real damage is more personal. It’s the wedge it’s driving between him and you. The accusations, the whispers, the uncertainty—it’s all feeding into the growing gap he’s been struggling to bridge.  

He pulls on a shirt, his movements jerky as his frustration builds. He hasn’t been able to sleep properly for days either, his mind consumed by the mystery of the leak and the uneasy tension between you two. It’s not like you’re outright hostile, but there’s something there—something distant, guarded. And now, after the dream, he can’t stop replaying the worst-case scenarios in his head.   

The atmosphere in the room is cold, tense—calculating. Out of the four people situated inside, none speak. Just looking at one another in silent scrutiny. Yamato and Akane are sitting side by side, seated across from them are another married couple. 

Kenji and Emi Nakamura. 

Kenji and Emi Nakamura exude the quiet confidence of people used to wielding power. Kenji’s sharp suit is impeccably tailored, his posture straight and commanding, while Emi, poised in a sleek dress, sits with her legs crossed, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Despite their calm appearances, their sharp gazes and the slight twitch of Kenji’s jaw betray their impatience.

Yamato leans back in his chair, his arms crossed, his eyes cold and unwavering as they meet Kenji’s. Akane, seated next to him, is the picture of composed elegance, but the slight tap of her heel against the floor reveals her tension. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until finally, Kenji speaks, his voice smooth but laced with thinly veiled irritation. 

“So,” he begins, his piercing eyes flickering between Yamato and Akane. “Are we going to dance around the issue all day, or will one of you have the decency to explain how this... mess...got out and why the man who’s dating our daughter suddenly has a secret son?” 

Yamato doesn’t flinch. He lets the accusation hang in the air for a moment before responding, his tone measured. “We don’t deal in leaks, Kenji. And we certainly wouldn’t jeopardize our own family’s reputation for... what? A scandal? That’s more your style.”

Kenji’s expression hardens, and Emi places a delicate hand on his arm, a subtle but firm reminder to keep his temper in check. She smiles politely, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s not turn this into a blame game. We’re all here because this leak affects all of us—your family, ours, Satoru’s and Himari’s.” 

Akane’s lips twitch into a faint, humorless smile. “Don’t patronize us, Emi. You and I both know you’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this. You’ve always wanted to see Satoru fall from grace.”

Emi raises an eyebrow, her smile unfaltering. “I want what’s best for our families, Akane. A public scandal doesn’t benefit anyone, least of all Gojo or the Nakamura name. Besides, our daughter quite loves your son.” 

Kenji leans forward, his hands clasped together on the table. “Let’s cut the theatrics. Who is responsible?” 

Akane’s heel stops tapping, and she fixes Kenji with a sharp look. “We’re working on it. Our investigators are thorough, and they’ll uncover the source soon enough.”

Kenji’s eyes narrow. “They’d better. Because the last thing the Nakamura name needs is a public scandal about a conniving young man and our innocent daughter. She’s already receiving enough scrutiny as it is.”

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch, but Yamato remains unmoved. His voice, low and steady, cuts through the silence. “And if we discover the leak came from your side, Kenji? Are you prepared to deal with the consequences?” The two men lock eyes, a silent battle of wills, while their wives sit in their respective corners, poised like chess queens ready to strike. The room may be quiet, but the unspoken threats linger in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“We’d never do something like this, especially if it affects our daughter.” Emi replies firmly. She tilts her chin up slightly, an air of indignation radiating from her as her perfectly manicured hand rests on her husband’s arm. “You should know better than to accuse us of such underhanded behavior, Yamato.”

Yamato’s wife leans forward slightly, her tone equally sharp. “And you should know better than to express such hostility towards us. Tenka Couture benefits more from Gojo Group than vice versa.”

Emi’s smile tightens, her composure threatening to crack. “Why, of course. We’re just saying, Himari has nothing to gain from this mess. If anything, she’s a victim of it. The constant media scrutiny, the endless whispers. How do you think that’s been affecting her?”

Kenji slams his hand on the table, the sound reverberating through the room. “Enough. This isn’t about Himari. This is about finding the truth. If your investigators are as thorough as you claim, then we’d better find answers—and soon.”

Yamato meets Kenji’s glare with a calm intensity. “Rest assured, we will. But until then, I suggest you keep your own people in check. If we find out this was an attempt to sabotage Satoru—or worse, hurt him—there will be consequences. You know that better than anyone.”

Kenji leans back, his jaw tight, as Emi places another calming hand on his shoulder. “We don’t want this to escalate any further,” she says, her voice softer now but no less firm. “For everyone’s sake, let’s handle this with discretion.”

Akane glances at Yamato, smoothing down the front of her skirt. “We agree. But let’s make one thing clear—if the Nakamuras are involved in any way, there will be no forgiveness. Not from us, and not from Satoru.”

Kenji sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Of course, we understand. But again, we are in no way involved with this leak. With the revelation of this…boy, it messes up everything. Himari and Satoru are a couple. They’re supposed to represent unity between our families and companies, a partnership that benefits both sides. This child complicates that narrative. It puts everything we’ve worked for at risk.”

Yamato’s eyes narrow, his sharp gaze cutting through Kenji’s words. “We understand, yes. But at the end of the day, Satoru is our son, this boy is…well he’s a part of our family now. Your concern seems to be more about appearances than the actual implications for Satoru’s life or the boy’s well-being, but I understand that. My wife and I too are concerned with the way this sudden news could somehow stain our reputation.”

Kenji leans forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, his expression taut. “Appearances are everything in this world, Yamato. You know that. If this story continues to spread, the consequences won’t just affect Satoru or Himari—they’ll ripple through both of our families. Investors, business partners, the media—they all thrive on scandal, and we can’t afford to give them fuel. They’ll begin to wonder what else we’re keeping a secret.”

“Himari and Satoru’s relationship isn’t as stable as you think it is,” Akane counters, her tone measured but resolute. “This revelation didn’t create the cracks; it only exposed them. Maybe it’s time you and your daughter accept that.”

Emi bristles at Akane’s insinuation, her voice cold but precise. “You underestimate my daughter’s strength. Himari has always handled challenges with grace. She and Satoru will navigate this together—if you and your family stop meddling.”

Yamato cuts in, his expression calm. “Let’s not pretend this is solely about Satoru and Himari. The Nakamuras have as much to lose as we do. But let me remind you, Kenji, that this child—Koji—isn’t just a complication. He’s Satoru’s son, and that makes him family. As the adults in this situation, we also hold a certain level of accountability as for keeping this child away from public eye.”

Kenji’s jaw tightens, his composure threatening to crack. “Family or not, this boy’s existence jeopardizes everything. Himari has been nothing but supportive of Satoru, and she doesn’t deserve to be overshadowed by a damned secret from his past.”

Akane’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. “Supportive, or opportunistic? Don’t confuse loyalty with convenience. If Himari truly cared for Satoru, she’d understand that his son isn’t just a ‘secret’—he’s part of who he is now.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Akane’s words lingering. Kenji finally stands, his movements deliberate. “We’ll see how this plays out. But if you think we’ll let the Nakamura name be tarnished by this… situation, you’re mistaken.”

Yamato rises as well, his eyes locking with Kenji’s in an unspoken challenge. “And if you think we’ll allow anyone—anyone—to undermine Satoru or the Gojo legacy, you’re equally mistaken. The truth will come out, Kenji. Be prepared for it.”

With that, the couple turns and leave, their exit leaving the Gojos in a cloud of tension and unease. Akane finally speaks, her voice low but firm. “Remind me again why we are pushing through with this arrangement. The Gojo Group hardly needs Tenka Couture. We’re more than capable of standing on our own.”

Yamato exhales, running a hand through his silver hair. “It’s not about needing them, Akane. It’s about the influence. The Nakamuras have deep connections in sectors we’ve been trying to expand into—fashion, entertainment, international markets. Aligning with them strengthens our position globally. We settled this years ago, okay?”

Akane crosses her arms, her expression skeptical. “At what cost? Their arrogance alone is enough to make me question this. And let’s not even get started on Himari. She might be poised on the outside, but she lacks the fortitude to handle Satoru’s world. She clings to the spotlight, but she’s not ready for the shadows.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens. “You’re not wrong, but this arrangement was never meant to hinge on her ability to ‘handle’ Satoru. It’s a strategic move, not a personal one. I thought you understood that.”

“Strategic?” Akane’s voice rises slightly, her composed exterior slipping. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t just a business deal anymore. There’s a child involved now—your grandson. And yet, we’re expected to sideline him for the sake of appearances?”

Yamato’s gaze hardens, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. “The boy is not being sidelined. But if this situation spirals out of control, it won’t just be Satoru’s name dragged through the mud—it’ll be Koji’s, too. I’m trying to protect all of them. As much as I dislike this situation and as much as I do not care for getting to know this boy, at the end of the day he’s connected to us.”

Akane steps closer, her voice softening but losing none of its edge. “And how do you expect to protect Koji by tying Satoru to someone who doesn’t have the heart to care for him? Because that’s what you’re doing, Yamato. You’re forcing a partnership that benefits no one but the Nakamuras. I’ve told you this from the start that it won’t do us good. There are plenty of other people we can contact that won’t involve forcing our son into an arranged marriage.”

For a moment, Yamato doesn’t respond. His broad shoulders sag just slightly, the weight of the conversation settling over him. “This isn’t about what’s ideal, Akane. It’s about what’s necessary. And until we find another way to stabilize this situation, the arrangement stands.”

Akane shakes her head, turning away. “Necessary, huh? Tell me, Yamato—when did we start sacrificing our son for necessity?”

Her words hover in the air as she walks out of the room, leaving Yamato standing alone, the tension thick and suffocating. He glances out the window, the city lights reflecting in his cold blue eyes. “Sometimes,” he murmurs to himself, “family is the sacrifice.”

Kenji and Emi sit in the back of the blacked out Escalade. One visibly more angry than the other. The assistant up front hands Kenji an IPad. “Here, sir.”

Kenji takes it without a word, scrolling. On the screen, a plethora of all the personal information regarding the woman who caused all this. 

You. 

Kenji’s grip tightens on the iPad as his sharp eyes scan the screen, each line of information making his jaw clench harder. Birthdate, address, financial records, employment history—it’s all there. How pathetic. Every detail meticulously laid out like a blueprint of your life. Beside him, Emi glances over, her expression less angered and more calculating.

“So,” she finally says, her tone icy and deliberate. “This is her.”

Kenji doesn’t reply immediately, his focus locked on the screen. An ID picture accompanied the words. The photo of you, Satoru, and Koji catches his attention, and his lips press into a thin line. The leaked photo. “The audacity,” he mutters. “She hides this little punk tyke for years, and now she’s a problem we’re forced to deal with. They both are.”

Emi tilts her head, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against her armrest. “She doesn’t look like much. Hardly someone who should be causing this much of a stir. But appearances can be deceiving.” Her lips curl into a faint sneer. “Especially for women like her.”

“She’s more than just a stir. She’s a maddening, infuriating liability with baggage from hell,” Kenji snaps, handing the iPad back to his assistant with a flick of his wrist. “The kind that could ruin everything if we’re not careful because they themselves have nothing to lose.”

The assistant clears his throat nervously from the front seat. “Sir, should I proceed with the next steps?”

Kenji leans back in his seat, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Not yet. I want to understand her first. How she operates. What she values. Everyone has a weakness. Once we find hers, we’ll decide the next course of action. Though, I assume it’s the ragged infant.”

Emi raises an eyebrow, her tone almost teasing. “You sound like you’re preparing for war.”

Kenji’s gaze flickers to his wife, his expression unreadable. “Aren’t we?”

The tension in the car is palpable, the low hum of the engine the only sound as they drive through the city. Emi’s lips curve into a faint smile, though her eyes remain cold. “She won’t win, Kenji. Not against us. Not against our sweet baby girl.”

“She won’t even get the chance,” Kenji replies, his voice hard and certain. “We’ll make sure of it.”

a/n: this is my present to u all!!!! happy holidays! ❤️❤️

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[roses-r-rosie3]

X-Mas list presentation

Batfam x M!Reader

Summary: instead of making a regular Christmas wishlist, the reader decides to make a whole presentation

Quote: “That is all Family! So open up your hearts and your wallets for me this holiday season”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why are you here?” Duke asked Jason.

“Same reason why you’re here, y/n wanted us to all meet up in the living room for some announcement” Jason sighed.

After everyone was in the room, you pulled out your computer and connected it to the Tv, which made everyone confused.

“Hello family, I know you must be wondering why you’re all here” you said.

“Yes”

“Yup”

“Mhm”

“Yeah”

“Can I go back to my game now?”

“Last year you guys totally fucked up Christmas, so this year I put together an entire presentation to tell you guys what I want specifically” you smiled.

Everyone in the room let out an audible sigh/groan. It was known by everyone in the family that you were very dramatic from time to time (24/7). But they never thought you would get this extra!

“Is that really what you called us here for?” Damian grumbled.

“Would you shut up for a second?” You snapped.

“Y/n I don’t think that’s how you should be talking to your little bro-”

“Anyways, Here’s the things you should keep in mind when you’re thinking about what kind of gift you will provide for me this year” you said as you interrupted Bruce from his lecture.

“First of all, I’m the only one who knows how to reset the Wi-Fi, and yeah that’s threat” you threatened.

That certainly got everyone’s attention.

“Secondly, if you don’t get me what I want I will get a sugar daddy, I don’t even care what you guys are going to say, I’ve had so many offers for sugar daddies that it’s unreal. The perks of being son of Bruce Wayne I guess” you said.

“Y/n, you do know that Bruce is rich right?” Jason asked.

“Not the point” you mumbled.

“And third if I don’t get what I want, I will also sell my feet pics online like I did last year” you said calmly.

“YOU WHAT?!” Bruce shouted

“Calm down, I only ended up making about 1 million from it” you sighed.

“ONLY?!” Dick gasped.

“I created a three tier system of different gifting levels, basically, the levels equivocate to how much you love me and how much money you have” you explained.

“Level one is the ‘I’m going to need therapy level’ which is only four to seven gifts. I would probably go into a depressive spiral, actually not probably, I definitely would be depressed” you said.

“Would you stop being so overdramati-”

“I’M NOT DONE YET” you said as you interrupted Tim.

“What would that mean for us? You may ask. It would mean that you would have to pay for my therapy. And the money that you guys spent on therapy would have been basically wasted, you could’ve bought me a whole bunch of gifts right now and avoided the situation” you smiled.

“I think that he’s lost his mind” Bruce whispered to Stephanie.

“You think?!” Stephanie whisper yelled.

“Level two is the ‘You’re getting warmer package’ This basically if you love me- Bruce can you stop whispering to Stephanie” you scolded.

“As I was saying… Level two is eight to fifteen gifts, which is basically equivalent to you texting me happy birthday” you continued.

“Level three is the ‘You’re sleighing it’ level. And if you remember, you guys were just a bit off the mark of hitting this because you guys only got me twenty three gifts. And in order to reach ‘You’re slaying it’ you have to get me twenty five or more gifts, I think this is totally do-able for you guys, especially because you can just use Bruce’s card if you guys are running low on money” you said.

“I have tons ideas for you guys and this whole slideshow is already in your email so you guys can look at it and reference it at any time” you smiled.

Everyone quickly checked their phones to see that you indeed emailed them your whole presentation.

“That is all Family! So open up your hearts and your wallets for me this holiday season” you smiled before leaving the room.

“Yeah he had definitely lost his mind” They all said in synchronization.

“I HEARD THAT!”

[pricegouge]

I’ve been praying for some semblance of stepbrother soap. The thought of you coming home for the holidays or winter break and meeting your dad/mom’s fiancée’s grown ex military son who was medically discharged is soo good. “You know he has a brain injury, you’ll have to excuse him.” they’d reason in a gentle, understanding tone when he leers at you without blinking from behind heavy brows and twitching lashes. “He’s been difficult since coming home, but he likes you!” They’d say when you bring up the way he always hovers around you like a helicopter.

jesus christ, soap who's been battling depression and anger, the misplaced feelings of abandonment, and the general itch in his fingers that's always come with civilian life. he needs a fight or a fuck, doesn't particularly care which order, and can't believe his luck when he finds them both in you.

he was a little annoyed when his da said he was getting a married again. not with the old sod, of course - bout time he'd settled, but with himself, with his vacant chest and his thoughts still running crooked, illegible. he knows he should be excited, but he hasn't felt much of anything ever since waking up on that fucking cot. discomfort, maybe. pain - not unusual, but different. and agitation. short fuse, temperamental. again, not unusual, but here he's got no outlet, at least none that won't land him in a holding cell overnight.

da jokes about him coming home for the holidays. soap smiles placatingly, but he can feel how forced it is. there's no joy in it, the season much more bleak and empty than he remembers it being, back before...

the new wife is lovely, a sweet, plump little woman. he can see why she'd turned the old man's eye, but he can't muster much beyond geniality, sequestering himself to his room more often than not because he knows how he's behaving, he's not stupid. he just can't seem to fix it.

that is, until you breeze in, charming smile, snow in your hair. you smell like crisp cold, oncoming storm, and when he looks out, he sees you've brought one with you, fresh snow finally coating the ground and covering all the messy mud. and just like that, some of the magic has come back into the season.

just as there was no fixing his mood before, there's no helping him now, either. you shy away from him, scared and skittering. snap at him when that doesn't work. da's just happy to see him smiling, refuses to call him to heel. he always worked better under a stern CO.

that first morning you're home is the first time soap's noticed morning birdsong since the accident. doctors had said he'd have some hearing loss, but it's strange how you can't really notice the things you're missing until you don't miss them. he hears it fine now, cuts through the fog of his morning and has him waking with the sun. he even manages a run, though not as intense as what he's been used to. wouldn't want to overdo it, not when he's a reason to heal up okay now.

he presses his luck, finding you in the shower. you shout at him when he enters, insisting he just needs to piss, and then shout for your mum when he doesn't heed your warnings and whips his cock out anyway. he's nothing but polite when she finally comes clucking after him, insisting it was an emergency and he's 'so sorry, mam.' you glower from behind the curtain, pruny finger clutching tight to it. he washes his hands before he goes just to hear you shriek when the water runs hot. your mum just chuckles. 'big brother antics.'

the problem is, really, he seems to be the only one who sees the situation for what it really is. you're not his sister. his sisters are obnoxious little brats, or overbearing hens who drive him up the wall more often than not. you are just a cute little thing, some stranger he doesn't know beyond your pretty face and the cute way you scrunch your nose at him, hiss at him to piss off when your mums not near enough to scold you for being mean. 'it's not right.' but he sees the way your eyes linger when he's sweaty after a run, or how your legs cricket when he looms in your doorway. the guestroom that's sat empty ever since his youngest sister's refused to come by. messy divorce, can't be blamed. he's just surprised da's let you have it. ('well, she's family now.')

if he insists.

he wonders if you'll call him your brother when he's got you under him. gasping and moaning, begging him for sympathy.

is disappointed when you don't.

"though' we were like family?" he grits when you call him soap, reach behind yourself try and pull him closer, deeper. he doesn't let you, keeps you pinned with only his head tugging at your rim. teasing. more antics.

"you are not my brother," you seethe. more vitriol. good, he likes you feisty.

"then why'd ye give me such a hard time? hm?"

you don't even need to think about it. "because you're a fucking weirdo." and that's true, probably. nothing new, even. he's always been intense. but it's never worked for him in the past.

"ah'm no' the one wants to fuck their sibling, hen."

the way your head whips round to glare at him makes him chuckle, your words enough to have him leering, vicious grin.

'well then, what would you call -?'

oh, bonnie. if you just wanted your big brother's cock, that's all you had to say.

[hellfirenacht]

Saving Throws

Fic Summary: Hellfire is your favorite place to be, but why is it so hard to show up when the sun sets at 4 pm?

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, Seasonal Depression, Hurt/Comfort, suicidal ideation if you squint but Reader does NOT want to die and is not actively suicidal, drug use, smoking, no use of y/n, reader is not described, assumed fem!reader, happy ending, SFW

No Beta, we live and we laugh and we love.

Word Count: 4.8k

Master List

It wasn’t even 5 pm, and it was already dark outside. You hated it. Stuck all day in school, too cold to be outside during lunch, and by the time you made it home any daylight had already faded over the horizon. On the weekends you could at least enjoy sitting by the window, taking in as much daylight as you could, and when school let out during the week, there was at least that precious 2 hours before the darkness came. 

Fridays were the hardest, even though they shouldn’t be. Fridays used to be the day you looked forward to most because that was Hellfire. It was the one day you were guaranteed to see Eddie and the rest of your friends. You hated that you were moved to a different lunch period. 

It was grey and gloomy out, the leaves on the trees that had brought you joy just a few short weeks before were now empty and dead. It was cold. There was no sunlight this Friday. 

You still sat outside, hoping that a shock of cold for a few minutes would snap you out of the fog that had been creeping in the back of your mind for the last few weeks. You knew it was coming, inevitable, but it never got easier. You wished there was something more you could do to slow it. 

October was a pleasant distraction, and usually you could combat the worst of it until January. Holidays and Hellfire were the best things to hold onto until March. 

Today wasn’t one of those days. You didn’t want to go to Hellfire, you didn’t think you’d be able to add any modifiers to your ability score. You didn’t think you could find your character voice or pick a fight with Gareth or team up with Jeff. 

In your state, you felt like you might just let the party down. Let Eddie down. 

That was the worst part. You could handle the rest of your friends being disappointed in you, but Eddie was different. If you missed Hellfire, there wasn’t any guarantee that you’d come back and have your character still be alive. Most days you loved that he was a bit ruthless and sadistic as a DM. Most days, you cackled as he threatened to off someone’s character for being late or dipping out early or missing Hellfire completely. Most days you loved him- his DM style, that is. 

Most days. 

Today wasn’t most days. 

It was now two minutes to 3:00 pm. If you hurried now, you could make it without a lecture. If you were five minutes late, you could blame it on going to the bathroom and Eddie would give you a look but wouldn’t hound you too bad. Later than that...

You had never been later than that. You had only ever been late once, and Eddie had forgiven you by giving you disadvantage on a roll that caused your character damage but ultimately didn’t kill them. 

It took you five minutes to force your body to move back inside, your whole body covered in goosebumps from the cold. You pulled your jacket back on as you trudged towards the storage room where Hellfire met every week. You walked down the stairs where Eddie was just now starting in on his opening monologue. Ever the professional, he shot you a look, but didn’t stop. 

You hated that look, you hated the idea of letting Eddie down, ever. 

The game passed by in a haze. Even Eddie’s antics and loud voice couldn’t fully keep your attention today. You felt like you spent most of the time telling yourself to focus rather than actually focusing. It was fine, Doug and Mike took charge of the dungeon and you were happy to let them have the spotlight. You hoped you looked more like you were focusing hard on the battles and strategies over spacing out. 

The relief of the meeting being over was washed away by the dark parking lot, the sun long gone despite the early hours. Everyone else was chatting excitedly about the dungeon and you trailed behind, readying yourself to say goodbye before heading to your car. 

Everyone was loitering around Eddie’s van while he pretended to be annoyed as he smoked a cigarette. You liked these moments, where everyone was together and you didn’t feel as though the pressure was weighing down on you. Outside of Hellfire, even if it was dark outside you were starting to feel a little lighter, the fog in your mind clearing just slightly. 

You took a hit off of Eddie’s cigarette. You didn’t normally smoke but the burn in your lungs at least helped you focus. You didn’t even mind it when you were teased for coughing so much. 

One by one everyone else was picked up or drifted to their own cars, leaving you and Eddie. You were about to say goodbye, when he spoke up. 

“So, where were you?” Eddie asked, dropping the cigarette and crushing it out with his boot. In the silence of the night, you could hear the slight hiss of the embers dying under his old Reeboks. 

“Huh?” you asked, head snapping up to meet his eyes. Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the van. 

“You were late today, and I was benevolent enough to let it slide.” he said. “So, where were you?” 

You wanted to tell him that you were only a little late, but you didn’t have the energy to challenge him. Normally you enjoyed the occasional argument or play fight with Eddie but today you didn’t have the energy. That spark was as cold as the smushed cigarette. 

“I was in the bathroom. Made the mistake of eating the surprise casserole during lunch.” you shrugged. You didn’t want to lie to him. You hated lying to him. But there was no good way to explain that the reason you were late was because you had to convince yourself to go. There was no way Eddie could understand, and you didn’t have the words to make him understand. 

How the hell could you explain that the place you wanted to be most was also the place that something deep inside you couldn’t bare to face. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Your friends hadn’t done anything wrong. Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did everything have to feel so wrong? 

Eddie seemed to accept your excuse for now. He clapped you on the back, which cleared the haze in your mind for just long enough to make your heart beat faster and for a moment you could think again. 

“Don’t be late again.” he said sternly, an evil glint in his eyes that usually made you melt. “Or else.” 

“I won’t.” you said, wishing you knew if you were lying or not. 

You kept your promise through November. Sacrificing those few moments of Friday sunlight to go directly to the club room after the bell rang. You were still dragging your feet, convincing yourself that you wanted to be with your friends as your shoes squeaked on the linoleum tile.

That was the worst part, being at Hellfire did make you feel better once you were there. But getting there was harder than actually coming to school. You still weren’t fully alert during club, but at least you were there. As long as you were there then you wouldn’t be in trouble and your friends would still like you and Eddie would still want you around-

Why was he giving you that look? Eddie walked into the club and had a disapproving look on his face. Anxiety flooded your system, washing away the haze as alarm bells rang in your head. You were here, right? It was Hellfire and you were on time, early even! You were here before Eddie. You had your character sheet, you had your figurine, you weren’t sitting in his chair-

“Where’s your shirt?” Eddie asked, and you felt your face flush of all blood. Your shirt...?

To your horror, you looked down at your shirt. It was an old faded t-shirt with the logo long since gone. It was soft, and usually worn for bed- 

You hadn’t fully gotten dressed this morning. You slept in this shirt and had just thrown on a hoodie over it, not even thinking about the fact that Hellfire was today. You were out of uniform. 

Fuck. 

When you forgot your homework during class, you didn’t care if teachers gave you that disapproving look. You could block out your peers jeering at you for what you wore, they didn’t matter.

None of them mattered, but Eddie did. 

“....Fuck.” you said, mostly to yourself, staring at the offending and comfortable material. 

You expected him to lecture you, like everyone else. You braced yourself for him to tell you to leave and come back when you knew how to dress yourself again. A small part of your brain almost hoped that he would. 

Instead he just gave you that manic, evil grin that you usually loved. You knew what was going to happen for the rest of the day. 

“I hope you’re feeling lucky today, because I’m not going easy on you.” Eddie said. “In fact, I think today I might play favorites.” 

Being Eddie’s favorite in Hellfire could be a death sentence if you weren’t careful. Being his favorite meant that he was going to pay special attention to you. Eddie didn’t often play favorites, but the last time he did it ended in Doug starting a new character sheet while rolling his saving throws. He was saved by a lucky 13 roll. 

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” you said, louder to show your disdain for this turn of events. Eddie only winked at you and started setting up the table and his area. 

One by one, everyone showed up while you looked over your character sheet as if you were cramming for a test. Normally you loved any attention that Eddie gave you, but right now it felt like too much as you scrambled to try and remember what the hell was even going on in the campaign. 

You pretended to have fun, swallowing down any panic you were feeling during the game. Even though all you wanted to do was go home and sleep and cry and disappear until Spring. How were you supposed to finish the campaign like this?

Eddie was picking on you the whole game, and you wanted to be mad at him. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone and wasn’t it good enough that you were even there? But you couldn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it because he wasn’t actually mad at you. You could see it in his eyes that there was nothing malicious behind that grin. This was a punishment, yes, but he wasn’t doing this to hurt you.

A few weeks ago you would have loved this, loved being picked on by him and having his attention and investment in your character. You would have been locked in, challenging him and pushing him as much as he was pushing you, cracking jokes and batting your eyelashes at him for fun. 

You miss who you were a few weeks ago. 

You had been fighting on equal footing, but now you felt backed into a corner. With a final push, and with an assist from Jeff, you managed to get your final attack in before the battle ended. You would be worse for wear next session, but alive. 

By the time you all walked out of the school that evening, you felt extra drained. You had fun, you think. You should have had fun. Hellfire was always fun. 

Something heavy fell on your shoulders and you made a noise and swatted in front of your face as Eddie snapped his fingers and smacked your face around a little. You felt the snout of that damned pig ring poke into your cheek. 

“Hello? Anyone in there?” He asked, his arm swung around your shoulders as if it were the most casual thing in the world. The weight of his arm dragged you out of the clouds and back down to earth. 

“No one’s home.” you deadpanned, but you couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth from pulling up slightly. This was Eddie now, not the Freak, not the Dungeon Master, not the guitar lead of Corroded Coffin. No pressure. 

“Should I tape a note to your face if I want to leave a message?” he asked.

“No, I’ve seen your sticky notes, they don’t stick.” 

“That’s what happens when you drop them in slush.” Eddie shrugged. “Now, what the hell is wrong with you?”

That was a loaded question. “Alphabetically or chronologically? Actually scratch that, we don’t have time to get into that.” You laughed, hoping he’d drop it. 

You felt Eddie’s hand move around your back from one shoulder to the other. He moved in front of you to make you face him completely. His free hand rested on your other shoulder, his head tilted down slightly. His head always tilted down like that when he was being serious. Shit, he wasn’t going to drop it. 

“Is something going on?” he asked. “You were at the table but...” Eddie seemed to struggle with how to phrase it. “You’re phoning it in.” he finally settled on. 

You hated disappointing Eddie. He was one of your best friends, and you admired him so much. How were you supposed to answer him without feeling like a massive failure? 

Eddie had seen right through you, had noticed that your head and heart wasn’t in the game. Despite his looks, Eddie was always so intuitive about how people were feeling. He noticed when things were off. 

This isn’t how you wanted him to notice you. It was ironic really, ever since you joined Hellfire all you wanted was Eddie’s attention, to catch his eye. Now that you had it, you wish he’d look anywhere else. This wasn’t the you that you wanted him to see. 

“Finals.” you said, giving the canned answer that you had given to the guidance counselor early in the week. “Classes are kicking my ass and I’ve just been a bit off.” The counselor had bought it, and if Eddie didn’t you could blame stomach issues or- 

“You sure?” Eddie asked, frowning. He was still holding your shoulders. “It’s just- it’s been weeks, man. You’re barely there.” 

“There’s nothing wrong.” you tried to assure him. It was true, and that was the worst part. There was no reason why you should feel this way. Things weren’t bad at home, things were fine at school. The worst thing that’s happened in the past few weeks was today's encounter with an owlbear. “I’m just really tired lately. Stress. Can’t sleep.” 

Eddie looked at you hard for a few seconds before nodding, finding the answer satisfactory. He let go of your shoulders and you immediately missed the pressure. He opened the back of his van and dug through a small mountain of clutter and pulled out his lunchbox. 

“No, Eddie, it’s fine. I don’t have any money right now.” you said as he pulled out a small baggie. He tossed it to you anyway. 

“Pay me back later.” he said. “Ten.” 

It was a discount, he must be actually worried about you. The fog in your mind told you to take the weed and go home. To smoke and sleep and lay around for the next few days and wallow in whatever feeling this was. 

It took you longer than it should to force your lips to say “I suck at rolling.”

And that’s how the two of you ended up at the far end of Forrest Hills trailer park, away from a majority of the trailers and RVs as Eddie carefully rolled the joint. This wasn’t something that happened often, the two of you hanging out alone. The last time it happened was the start of the school year when Eddie had given you a ride home when your car had a flat. The two of you ended up spending an hour in your driveway just talking. That had cemented the crush you had been suppressing for the past eternity. You had thought that maybe he had felt that same spark you did that night, but the two of you hadn’t been alone like that since. 

Eddie took the first hit and handed the joint over to you. You held it for a moment, unsure if weed was a good idea with your already cloudy mind but you took a deep hit anyway. 

“Woah, easy.” Eddie said, taking the joint back as you coughed from the smoke. He smacked you on the back a few times before offering you a swig from a water bottle. You chugged the rest of it before your coughs subsided. “It’s just me. You don’t need to smoke like you have something to prove.”

You winced at the call out. You absolutely did take that hit to try and impress Eddie and he saw right through you. Of course he did. 

“Sorry.” you coraked out. 

Eddie just shrugged and took another hit, leaning back against the driver side seat. The mixtape he put in was louder than you would have liked, but it kept you alert. You felt at ease for the first time in a while, excited even, and that made you feel guilty. You didn’t want your brain to be dependent solely on Eddie to function. That wasn’t fair to him.

You considered asking him to take you home when he started talking again. He turned up the music just slightly, his voice a little louder as he launched into a ramble about the guitar solo. 

“Are metal songs usually this long?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door to face him more. 

“If they’re any good, yes.” Eddie laughed, shredding on his precious imaginary air guitar. 

“It’s nice of Metallica to slow down in the middle of a song. Gives the pit a break, you know? Like, ‘Hey good work everyone! Grab some water and meet back in the pit in three minutes for the big finale!’” You laughed, taking a smaller hit from the joint. 

“If you leave the pit, it doesn’t count. I don’t care how much they slow down.” Eddie said firmly. 

“You have too many rules.” you shook your head. “Not everyone has the never ending stamina that you have.” 

“That’s why we need to work on yours.” Eddie stretched out dramatically and dropped his feet in your lap, the heels of his Reeboks digging not unpleasantly into your thighs. “You’re damn near falling asleep on me at Hellfire, how am I gonna get you in the pit at our first big gig?” 

Your stomach turned with guilt but you pushed through it. “Just toss me in from the stage and if I thrash enough I’m sure it’ll count.” 

“Come on, you know it won’t count unless you start the pit willingly. If I can’t make you feel like you want to fight with our songs then I’ve failed.” Eddie pouted. 

“You make me want to fight without your singing.” you teased, untying his shoe laces. 

“Then why didn’t you?” 

You froze, holding the broken aglet between your fingers. “Dunno what you mean.” you lied. 

“These past few weeks you’ve been hanging back during battles and have barely talked during the campaign.” Eddie said. “Do you...”

“Do I what?” You asked, rolling the aglet. 

“Do you enjoy Hellfire anymore?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsure. You felt your heart break at the question, you hated that your damn brain made him feel like this. You were fine suffering in silence, but the last thing you wanted was to drag Eddie down with you. 

“No- I mean- yes.” you stuttered out. “I do like Hellfire. I promise.” It sounded childish, and you couldn’t force your voice to sound as sincere as you wanted it. Eddie would see through the bullshit in a heartbeat. “I.. I don’t know what’s wrong.” You conceded finally. 

Eddie nudged you with his foot. “Talk to me. Normally you won’t stop talking during the campaign. Don’t clam up on me now.” 

“It just... I get like this every year around this time. The sun disappears right after class and suddenly I feel like a damn zombie. I can’t think, or do anything. I feel like I’m fighting fog. You can’t punch fog.” 

Eddie crossed his arms and nodded sagely. “That’s how fog works.” 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re oh so helpful.”

“Normally the way to get rid of fog is an assload of light. That’s your problem, huh? No light means more fog.” 

“That seems to be the case.” you agreed and turned down another hit of weed. It wasn’t helping right now anyway. 

“Should I shine one of the spotlights on you next time?” He suggested. 

“You already did that this afternoon.” you deadpanned. 

“Nah, I just made you participate. I’ll rig one of the drama spotlights to shine directly on you-”

“Giving me disadvantage on every roll because I’ll be blind.” you countered. 

“You will be, but I might have mercy on your character. No, but I was thinking more of a Care Bear stare. Blast you with light to make you give a shit again.” He crushed out the joint. 

“A Care Bear stare? Who even are you right now?” you stretched your own legs out to rest on his lap, your legs tangled together now. “You can’t even name three Care Bears!” 

“I can so! There’s Grumpy Bear and uh... Happy Bear and Brave Heart.” Eddie said smugly. 

“Wh- That last one isn’t even a bear, it’s a lion!”

Eddie threw his arms up dramatically. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! You’re a fake Care Bears fan. How are you supposed to blast me with a Care Bear stare if you can’t even name the characters? I’m embarrassed to even be here right now, Eddie.” you sighed, disappointed in him. “Poser.” 

“Poser?!” Eddie looked offended. “I can handle being called a freak, or a satanist, but poser? That’s a low blow. I’m wounded.”

“Crit hit on psychic damage.” You cackled. 

“You sound better.” Eddie said as your laughter subsided. 

“I.. feel better. Thank you.” despite the weed and the only light in the van coming from the overhead light, you did feel better. There was still a bit of fog, but the exhaustion wasn’t as bad as it had been over the last few days. 

“Are you gonna be okay for the rest of the campaign?” Eddie asked. “I’d hate to lose a party member to a monster we couldn’t see”

“You aren’t gonna lose me.” you promised. “I’ll be there and I’ll try and be perkier.”

“I don’t care about perky, I just want you to have fun.” Eddie said firmly. “If you aren’t having fun then that means I’m not doing a good job as a dungeon master. Come one, tell me what I gotta do to make it fun for you again.” 

“Kill off Blorbo.” you said. 

“Anything but that, he’s an essential NPC.” Eddie smirked. 

“He’s really not.”

“Blorbo bring joy and wonder everywhere he goes-”

“Can he go to Hell? I think they need more joy and wonder there.” That damned goblin had started as a joke and quickly turned into the most obnoxious character that would show up to cause problems when things were going too well. 

“I’ll tone him down.” Eddie promised. “The voice is straining anyway.” 

You took a deep breath and fiddled with his aglet again. “I just.. Don’t want to let you down when I can’t give my all.” You admitted, laying out your vulnerability. “I don’t care if anyone else is disappointed in me, but you and the rest of the party are different. I want to be there for you all. I want to fight the fog and show up and be a part of this adventure. I... I don’t want you to- if you give me the same look that the rest of the school gives us then that’s it. I won’t be able to face you, Eddie.”

Eddie was silent for a while as you stared at his shoes. “Look, I know I can be harsh when it comes to Hellfire.” he admitted. “I can be an asshole because it means so much to me. I know that. If my threats are making it harder for you to show up then I’m sorry. I don’t want to be so much of a dick that you run away because I’m threatening to kill off characters because of my precious dungeon master ego.”

You felt your chest tighten and you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

“I want you at Hellfire.” Eddie continued. “I love playing with you. When you and Jeff team up, I know I’m in trouble. The two of you come up with plans that, frankly, no sane dungeon master would let you roll for. But I do, because you make it fun.”

“And because you’re insane.” you laugh as you blink back a tear. 

Eddie grabbed your ankle and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be nice to you at Hellfire. I’ll be patient. I just want you to show up and enjoy the game. Just don’t tell the others I’m giving you special treatment.”

“Not being a dick is giving me special treatment?” You gave him a small smile, a real one. “I’m honored.” 

“Yeah, well, if word gets out they'll start demanding that I be nice to them too, and I can’t have that. Not during the game anyway.” 

You felt lighter than you had in weeks. You really did feel better. It wasn’t going to be a permanent feeling, you knew that there were going to be more foggy days. Feelings like this don’t really go away until Spring, but you would prevail. You wouldn’t let Eddie down, or the rest of your party. You wouldn’t let yourself down and fall victim to an endly haze. 

“Can... we hang out like this more?” you asked. “Outside of school, I mean.” 

Because this is what you needed. It wasn’t gonna be easy, but having this time with a friend is what would get you to the end of winter. Eddie, Jeff, Doug, even Gareth and the freshmen. You had put so much pressure on Hellfire that you had forgotten that your party members were also your friends and allies. 

This didn’t have to be a solo quest. 

“Yes!” Eddie said, so quickly and forcefully it actually made you jump. “Yeah, absolutely, You should really come to the Hideout more and watch us play and after we could go get uh... questionable snacks from the gas station. Or I could sneak behind the bar and get us some beers.” 

With how enthusiastic he was, you wondered if he had also felt that spark that night at the beginning of the school year. 

It was almost 2 am when Eddie dropped you off at your place, stepping out of the car to give you a real goodbye. The rest of the night had been a whirlwind of a million topics at once, music, life, plans to hang out in the future. You felt happy. Really, genuinely happy. 

You hugged Eddie, which he seemed surprised at but he hugged you back tightly. You were squished against him, enjoying the texture of his leather jacket under your fingers. It was cold out, and you could see your breath now, but you felt a warmth in you. 

You didn’t need Eddie to be the light that kept you going, but he could help your own light stay lit. Him and the rest of your friends. Though you knew that a part of you would always burn more brightly for him, specifically. 

Eddie pulled back and dramatically bowed to you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. It was so over the top and so Eddie. 

“Come by Gareth’s place on Sunday. We’re having rehearsals while the neighborhood is at church.” He instructed. 

“I thought Corroded Coffin had closed rehearsals?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. They were always serious about their band, they didn’t let people come and distract them. 

“Think of it as a special open casket.” Eddie said. “You don’t have to talk, we can focus on our music, and you get to spend time with us during the day.” 

It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever offered you. You nodded, knowing that it might be hard to get your ass out of bed but you would. For him. 

And for you.

With a final hug, Eddie saw you inside before peeling out of your driveway. You made your way to your room and looked at the photo on your nightstand of you with the Hellfire club. What you were feeling might be a solo quest, but you weren’t alone. 

For the first time in weeks, you were able to fall asleep without the weight of the fog. 

A/N: This fic was originally hurt/no comfort out of my own seasonal depression and insecurities. But what stopped it from being that was that none of you deserve to feel abandoned or like you're fighting alone. None of of who love Eddie so much deserve to be kicked out of Hellfire without a fighting chance.

Get yourself some vitamin D gummies and a SAD lamp. We're gonna get through this, guys.

Also I really need a regular Tag List so comment if you wanna be added.

[tastefuleternallove]

hey! i hope you’re having a good new year! i didn’t have the best holiday season, so i was just wondering if you could do joe quinn x reader on christmas or new years? or if possible reader with seasonal depression?

Loved

Joe Quinn x Reader

Summary: your boyfriend has immense amount of love for you

Warnings: fluff / angst, mentions of depression, does not say what holiday is being celebrated or the gender of reader.

Note: i’m so sorry to you and to anyone who had a rough holiday season, i did aswell and i would’ve killed for someone to say these things to me over the past few weeks. Hope the rest of everyone’s year is filled with love ❤️

NONE OF THIS IS PROOF READ IM LAZY

The holiday season was always hard for you, every year you find yourself sitting in your bed scrolling on your phone looking at everyone’s holiday pictures. Reminding you that your behind everyone in life, but also too ahead in the same way. However this year was different, you had joe. He’s the light of your life and the best thing that’s ever happend to you.

But over the holiday season you couldn’t scratch the feeling that you’ve been ruining it for him. The holidays were his favourite time of year and you haven’t exactly had time to share with him how you feel about this time of year. It wasn’t his fault, you just care for him so much. Going to every event, every dinner, every party with a smile plastered on your face hoping to not ruin this moment for your boyfirend

You felt like you were hiding it nicely, never stopping a smile, starting conversations with people, and playing the perfect part. But your boyfriend could see straight through your facade, every time you would slowly dissociate yourself when people would start talking about certain things. his heart ached at the sight of this but he wasint exactly sure how to have this conversation, he didint want you to fully shut him out but he also wanted you to know he cared for you and wanted to help you.

it was new year’s eve and you were getting ready to go to one of joe’s friends party. ask you looked at yourself in the mirror you feslt the exhaustion that crept up onto you from the season, feeling drained and in need of laying down. But on queue Joseph walked into the room, you straightened your posture out and went back to clasping your necklace. Joe knew right when he walked in you weren’t okay, and today was the day he would say something.

“Sweetheart, can you come sit on the bed with me” he said softly, you took note of how he hadn’t started getting ready. “i need you to know that i care about you and that you are in such a safe space when your with me right?” he said with almost a worried look. “yeah of course babe”. you said with a smile, but he couldint shake the feeling thag more was going on. “How about me and you just spend new years together, we can relax, do anything you want and just spend time with eachother, no one else no distractions”. “what! no” you said with almost a fear in your eyes. joseph gave a confused look trying to see i side your mind.

this is something your boyfriend wanted something important to him, but now that you aren’t going to his friends party their all gonna think that it’s your fault because if it wasint for you joseph wouldint come. Your chin quivered quick as you shit your head down releasing everything in a huge eruption. tears streaming down your face as you let every emotion from the past couple of weeks consume you. Your boyfriends heart shattered at the sight of this, because he didint know what was happening or how to get you to tell him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, trying to make you feel grounded so you knew he wasint going anywhere

He rubbed your back in small patterns and tried to steady your breathing. “look at me” you glanced up at his freshly shaven smooth face. “It’s not your fault, you can’t control how you feel during this time of year and it’s selfish of me that i didn’t say anything sooner about how you’ve been feeling. That’s why i suggested about tonight, spending the new year with my amazing partner, i couldn’t ask for a more amazing person that i get to share my life with, your always there every step of the way and you must know that you are what leads me to every step of my life. Everything is for you and i love you with everything in me”.

You looked at him in awe, he cared, he listened , your worries of showing your true emotions melted away as you truly realized how important and loved this man made you feel. He placed his tender hands on your cheek and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead and continued to keep rocking you back and forth, easing you out from your stress.

[anemoiashifts]

december shifting pick an object reading !

hello ! happy almost christmas to those who celebrate i thought id continue with a general shifting reading & maybe some messages from people in your desired reality. i thought last months reading was a little to general for my liking, so i will be trying to add as much detail / specifics as i can to solidify the feeling that this is made for you.

as always please please don’t force messages to resonate. i do these on the first of every months so they’ll be many more chances to feel connected to a reading if these ones don’t do it for you :) !

bunny ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🐇 !

signs : pineapples, snoopy, stained clothing, missing buttons, mars, tree stumps.

you are currently going through some sort of “seasonal depression; some sort of funk. as of recent, you’ve been comparing yourself to your peers. seeing how much they can do & are capable of, it makes your (feelings of) lack amplify & hurt even more. maybe you have some sort of codependent relationship or always feel the need to confide in others approval before a task is complete ? this month you’ll find the motivation to learn new skills & plant the seeds that are needed to trust yourself.

this boils over into your outlook on shifting. people seem to fall into boxes of where they want to shift, have methods that have worked for them, have made a decision in what they’d like to experience in their desired reality. it’s not that you lack a direction, you may know where you’d like to shift. more so an indecisiveness on what you actually want. you want to shift yes, but when you really think on it, you’ve become comfortable where you are. you could struggle to see yourself shifting at all as you are a more analytical person. your someone who is very fact based, you could enjoy doing research & weighing all options before making a decision. things need to make perfect sense to you before you believe in them. this mindset only feeds into what ive mentioned above & could circle back to your feelings of being directionless. the main thing you need is clarity for your manifestations & desires.

this person is someone who is very likely defensive of & true to their beliefs; someone stubborn. birds or turtles may be relevant to them. what this person wants to remind you is consistency is key. you may jump from one project to another without finishing the last; which leaves you as someone who knows a lot of different skills / has aloe of hobbies. you don’t have to be perfect to start something & continue with it. very few people do things the first time & it comes out just how you imaged it. focus on the quality of information rather then the quantity. take this month to create a vision board of some sort. write down what you’d like to accomplish by the end of the upcoming year.

otter ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🦦 !

signs : greek lettering, pink slippers, butterfly earrings, long black wrap coats.

in your head, you have “unfinished business” to attend to. so, shifting has been kept on hold for a very long time — years for some of you. it’s always “ill try and shift after i finish my work” or “ill shift when i improve my sleep schedule”. while it’s good to have goals, you’re allowed to work on multiple things at once as long as you balance the two. take this time to reevaluate your priorities & consider what is helping or hurting you. are you really putting off shifting because your room isn’t clean and you have done laundry yet and you have a research paper ? or are you simply not in the mood for it as your mind has wandered else where. do you desire to go to a reality that you have built up in your head or have you grown out of it & would rather fall in love with another desired reality ?

there could also be some sort of desire not to shift at the moment. perhaps you like the holidays & you’re excited for them ? you’re in a stable place right now & shifting is something you fall back onto in times of distress ? however you look at shifting & where you want the future of your relationship to be with the practice later down the line, take time to nurture that vision for yourself.

this person could be someone from your family in your desired reality or a person you would consider family, even if not by blood. this person is a little bit of a player & like you, has moments of lack of direction. while this person can be hotheaded, it’s a good reminder to slow down before lashing out on others. your insecurity doesn’t grant you the right to think negatively of other people. through these moments, this person notices that you struggle to see clearly & your tendency to obsess over small things. focus on the bigger picture.

deer ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🦌 !

signs : 88 or 888, farmers markets, lillie’s, historical landmarks, purple lip gloss.

you’re not the kinda person people look at & think that you haven’t been through a lot. on the outside, you look fine. you’ve been very lucky in a lot of ways & you’re able to hold everything together really well.

often a front for something being repressed, you often have an “i don’t care” attitude or come off as really easy to be around & agreeable. you’re someone who doesn’t quite know yourself entirely. while, you recognize you’re a kind person & a good friend, you struggle with a fear of judgement & being ostracized from certain groups if they “knew the truth”. you could’ve or used to have some unconventional hobbies or are into certain subcultures that aren’t the norm.

your desired reality could be a wanted but a shamed one by nobody other then yourself. you have a love of the place of where you’d like to shift but the shame of admitting to yourself that you do consider yourself a shifter, can be a hard to accept. you’re probable someone who lives in constant fear of being “outed” as a one. you’ve gone through the ritual of blocking everyone you know in your personal life & making a mental note of not keeping physical scripts laying around. maybe shifting as a while feels a little elementary to you. even if it isn’t the practice, it could be the places you’d like to shift itself that allow these thoughts to conjure up inside your head. if you are able to work on quieting that noise of shame & insecurity, you will soon have your desired fulfilled. — as I was typing & the time 11:11 appeared on my desktop if that number means anything to you.

the main thing somebody from your desired reality wants you to know is to listen to your dreams. your dreams are apart of your subconscious & your subconscious holds the key to how you operate. if your circadian rhythm is off, take this as a sign to start to get it back on track. i really couldn’t get a read on who this person was, so i assume whoever your thinking of is this person or they prefer to remain anonymous.

thank you for reading. i hope something was able to resonate with you ! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[yuamusuzuran]

Damn.... so, Sinsmas and final episode of Helluva S2 is out AND I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS!

But most importantly, I wanna talk about Via!

Even though this episode was packed with a bit of everything and I loved every second of it, I couldn't help but focus on Via-Stolas plot the most.

But before I dive deeper, let me say this:

Even though their final moment was painful, especially for Stolas, it represents a significant change and possible start of progress in their relationship.

Aside from her song being an absolute 2000-s teen rock banger, Via doing a repraise on Stolas' lullaby was so impactful, mostly because she's telling herself and us as audience that she has grown up a lot and is seeing things from different perspective.

And even though she's still very much hurt that Stolas chose Blitz over her, the conflict in her feelings is so well-portrayed in my opinion, especially when she asks these two questions:

During her song and while looking through her dad's stuff, she had many realizations. Realized her dad was struggling a lot, to the point he was taking anti-depressants on the daily, but we still see how young she is and how important her dad's attention still is to her.

So, now we have this 17-year old who had realized her father stayed in an loveless marriage because of her and does feel some sort of relief about him finally "doing what he wants"....

But she's also hurt that her dad still, in her opinion, didn't consider her important enough to choose "her over Blitz".

These are heavy and conflicting feeling she's dealing with, guilt over "holding Stolas down" while also being angry and disappointed that she wasn't "important enough to him to stay by her side"

However, I will remain adamant about one thing:

Via does not, or will ever, hate Stolas.

She is very disappointed, hurt and angry, and has every right to be, but her perspective is slowly changing. She is still a very young girl who needs support and love of her parents, but is slowly realizing how strong she is on her own, just as her dad was telling her in his lullaby.

We have a lot to go through with these two in the next 30 episodes of the show.

Octavia still doesn't have the full picture nor does she realize the full scale of Stella's abusw towards Stolas, which I think will change her opinion even more. But developing her arc to forgive him will take a long, long time. Because, when a parent hurts you or disappoints you, its a wound that doesn't heal easily.

As for Stolas, he still has to come to terms about how much his life has changed. All of his buried emotions, good and bad, are coming out, and he still has a long way to go in his healing and acceptance of who he really is and wants to be.

But the most important thing for him is to realize that Via doesn't actually hate him.

Boy.... this show is amazing. Loved every second of this episode and this whole situation and setup for season 3 will pick my brain until the next full episode comes out.

Happy holidays everyone, and merry Sinsmas!

[blues824]

But Mc having the holidays blues like really bad(I have them especially since I moves out, and live with roommates) it gets depressing, so instead of the Mc(reader) going with one of the students they go with the teachers and spend the holidays with them at their home!

Thanks for turning on anon! 🙇‍♀️💗

No problem!

You requested: Holiday Blues (slight pun because of my name lol)

Dire Crowley

His apartment was rather depressing, shrouded in black and darker colors. However, you help him decorate appropriately for the holidays. He makes you hot chocolate because he is just so kind, and he is definitely the kind of person to use his magic to lift you up so that you could place the star on the top of the tree.

This man acts like he did so much work, letting out a huge sigh as he sits down on his couch with a loud, dad-like groan. You rolled your eyes before taking his empty mug and washing it in the sink. While you’re doing that, he sneaks off to grab a present, and he slides it onto the counter when he comes back. It had your name in metallic ink, and was written in matte black wrapping paper.

Inside was a small golden locket key chain, and the sentimentality of it was what brought you to tears. You hadn’t received a present in a while, and so tears fell as you kind of just leaned into his shoulder. He didn’t really know what to do, so he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you and patted your back gently, and you just cried softly.

Divus Crewel

If anyone was more likely to take you in like he would a child to help you feel better about the holiday season, it would be this man. You would spend a lot of time with him, shopping and wrapping gifts for the other staff members. He makes sure to keep you distracted so that you have no time to mope about and wallow in self-pity, even if that’s all you want to do.

You help him decorate his apartment as well, and each ornament he has belongs in the color-theme he selected for this year, which was black, white, gold, and a splash of red. He, too, used his magic to lift you up so that you could place it on top of the tree. This is also a time where you learned that Professor Crewel preferred to remain well-dressed even in the comfort of his own home.

When he gave you your present, it had a well-written card on it. He told you how proud he was of you and how far you had come, and you didn’t even get to the gift itself before you started crying. He opened his arms to you, and you ran into them, sniffling your tears away. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head to comfort you, holding you as a moment of silence took hold.

Ashton Vargas

His apartment was… unique. His living room didn’t have a couch, but rather was a gym itself, despite the apartment complex having a gym. He claimed that they didn’t have the equipment he needed, and he kept you on an exercise regimen during your stay ‘so that you wouldn’t slack off.’ In reality, he didn’t know what to do about your seasonal depression, but he knows exercise can help, and he offers to exercise alongside you.

There’s not a lot of room to put up a tree, so you instead decorate the equipment stands, and you place the gifts that you wrap onto the treadmill that he owns. His kitchen has a few holiday-themed things, and you put lights on top of his cabinets so that the lights will shine onto the walls. It was simple, but it worked and spirited the place a bit more.

Coach’s gift to you was a few gift cards to a few different places in the town below NRC, as he didn’t know what you or Grim would have liked. He freaks out when you start crying, but you say, through sobs, that it was from being grateful. It had been a while since you saw someone as a family figure, and you were glad that he was the one.

Mozus Trein

When he had invited you to his house for the holidays, you were low-key kind of expecting a dungeon. Lo and behold, it was a small but warm and welcoming house. You met his two daughters, and they were very happy to meet you. They became your older sisters, in a sense, with how quickly they accepted you as their family.

A tree was decorated in the corner of the living room, and everyone sat gathered. Presents were passed out, and you were going about in a circle, unwrapping one present each. You were aware that you would be meeting your professor’s daughters, so you made sure to get them some gift cards, as you did not want to show up empty-handed. Trein told you that they would understand, but you were pretty adamant.

Eventually, it got to you, and you unwrapped the one from Mozus, him looking at you with an amused look. Inside of it were a few books to read in your free time that reminded him of you, and each of them had a message that he wrote within them. One of those messages was detailing how proud he was to call you one of his students, and that Lucius even liked you, and you wrapped your arms around him and started crying. He returned the favor, hugging you as though you were his child, and your newfound sisters joined in on the hug as well. Family hug.

Sam

He didn’t go home for the holidays, and opted to stay at the Shop because there were students who still needed things. That being said, he did invite you to celebrate in the shop with him. He’s kind of like your cousin with how close you two were. Anyway, you decided to help him decorate the shop appropriately, as it was feeling a bit dull in there. Lights lined the corners of the walls and the edges of the shelves, making it more festive.

The back of the shop looked similar, but there was a tree back there as well. His friends on the other side helped him decorate it, as well as you and Grim. It had a bunch of different colors, but it was able to portray the different personalities between the multitude of you. You smiled with nostalgia lining your lips at the star on top, and you had a feeling you were going to make it through this season unscathed.

Sam could tell that this time of year was hard on you, and it wouldn’t do any good for his little imp if they were to feel horrible by themselves. He didn’t really like this season either, but it brought in a bunch of sales, so he wasn’t going to complain. He would just invite you over to the shop so that you both could suffer together, and that suffering turned into joy as you joke around with each other while decorating.

[p0ckykiss]

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan

summary - how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages

-> sick y/n, worried jeonghan, fluff, established relationship, soft jeonghan!!!!, whipped jeonghan

seasonal depression is a real thing. at least, according to you it is. personally, jeonghan had never experienced it. its entire premise just didn't really make sense, is all. watching the leaves change colors and fall was beautiful, and when winter rolled around the corner, so did the holidays and days off. if anything, wasn't that a reason to be happier?

a sneeze interrupts his train of thought, and jeonghan feels a pang in his chest at the sight.

it's officially been three days with you being flu-struck, and you both hoped it would've gotten better by now, but if anything it only seemed to have gotten worse. the time reads a quarter past two, and jeonghan can't help but sigh. 

you've been stuck on the couch since noon, curled up in your warmest blanket trying to watch the latest sitcom episode. your drowsiness is palpable, and every time you reach for a tissue to blow your nose, jeonghan flinches.

if seasonal depression corresponded with your well-being, then maybe jeonghan relates to it more than he thinks. and though jeonghan is chock-full of sympathy, his urgency to comfort you proves stronger.

and so jeonghan begins to rack his brain for different methods to make you feel better. and somehow his memories digress to the day you both took the love language test, even before you started dating. much to his embarrassment, jeonghan doesn't actually remember what your love language is, and he's way too prideful to ask. luckily, the nostalgia ends with the spark of a lightbulb, and jeonghan smiles. he knows exactly what to do. 

— 

the quest to rediscover your love language begins with the first type: words of affirmation.

slowly, jeonghan saunters over to you, trailing his fingertips over the leather of the couch, then over the fabric of the blanket, gently and gradually, until they find their way to your shoulder, and jeonghan leans down so you're promptly face to face. the quiet chatter from the TV fills up empty space, but it's not enough to force jeonghan to speak loudly. so he doesn't. instead, he inches ever so closer, until he can make out every beauty mark on your face, and he breathes, hardly above a whisper, "you're so beautiful."

in an attempt to play the compliment off, you merely roll your eyes. you blame your illness, though, when you can't contain the slightest inklings of a smile forming, nor the red flush that threatens to overtake your cheeks. you pair a gentle slap against jeonghan's arm with the statement, "i look like shit," and the accusation, "you're just saying that to make me feel better."

if it was even possible, jeonghan moves in closer, propping one hand on the couch arm for support so he could lift his other hand to rest perfectly under your chin. jeonghan swipes his thumb over your skin, hot to the touch, but he can't tell if it's from a blush or from the fever. "you might be right," jeonghan concedes, humming as he takes in every detail of your current state—rosy nose, puffy eyes, dry skin, messy hair—and yet jeonghan can't seem to find any flaws. inspection complete, jeonghan searches for the one thing he knows he can find. ever so faintly, glimmers dance in your eyes, and when jeonghan catches them with his own, like he's done before a million times, he repeats himself. "you might be right. i could just be saying that to make you feel better." jeonghan tucks one of many stray hairs behind your ear before reaching down to cup your hands together, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

and jeonghan can see it, can physically see it, how all of your insecurities instantly crumble, like a house of cards collapsing upon itself, melting away to make room for new walls, sturdier this time, built from affirmations and confidence and care.

a verbal response isn't required. all you do is smile, subtly, so that your lips barely curve up, and you close your eyes. but even this speaks volumes, because it's your cue of absorbing all the good things around you, no matter how small. it's also jeonghan's cue to add one final speck of positivity to your realm with a sweet kiss to your forehead, before he takes his leave to give you your much-needed space. 

—

mindless chatter continues to emit from the TV, and when jeonghan peers into the living room, he spots you tucked away in your same spot on the couch, only this time your head rested lower and your mouth hung open, blissfully asleep and temporarily free from the virus that ailed you.

jeonghan is quick to shimmy on his coat. braving the bite of winter air, it was time to do some shopping for part two, giving gifts, in his mission to determine your love language.

months of taking extra shifts, saving up, determined observations, and heavy research all culminated into this one moment. he was battling not one, but two, life-or-death decisions. the first was to pick which gaming console to buy, and the second was to pick which game to correctly pair with said console. his dedication to this plan, despite being executed weeks before the planned date, does not fail him, and fifteen minutes later jeonghan is walking back into your home as if nothing even happened.

luckily, you are still asleep, which gives jeonghan enough time to wrap up (literally) this phase of the journey and get a head start on the next: acts of services.

— 

about a million things fly through jeonghan's head when he watches you ease out of your slumber, the most prominent thought being how adorable you look, but the most important thought being how sick you still must feel, and how it's engraved in jeonghan's soul to fend off your demons.

unable to contain his excitement, jeonghan approaches you with his arms tucked behind his back, very conspicuously hiding something. you don't even get the chance to sit up before jepnghan kneels beside you, looking up with the largest pair of star-filled eyes. 

jeonghan brings both hands forward, so the two presents display themselves proudly between you. "i was going to wait until christmas," he shuffles the gifts into your arms, "but i can't stand seeing you like this." jeonghan balls his fists into his lap to prevent himself from tearing away at the wrappings himself. "i hope you like it."

piece by piece, bits of red and green foil fall to the floor. no amount of congestion or itchiness in your throat could suppress the yelp that burst from your voice. "jeonghan," you begin, but the growing lump of emotion in your chest was making it damn near impossible to finish your sentence. "you really didn't have to."

jeonghan beams. "yes i did. i know how much you miss your old switch."

"you mean the one i threw out the window because i couldn't pass that one stupid level of super mario?" 

it's clear that you are very unfond of the memory, but jeonghan simply finds it all the more endearing. "that's the one."

the grin on jeonghan's face has yet to falter, and suddenly the swells of appreciation that lap at your heart transform into guilt. you imagine all the sacrifices jeonghan must have made in order to afford this, all the late shifts he had to seek out, just to buy you a replacement for something you broke in the first place. you swallow a lump of equal parts of exasperation and admiration down your throat, ready to air out further protest because you really don't deserve this, and you sure as hell don't deserve jeonghan.

and jeonghan can imagine all of your internal turmoil, of course he can, which gives him all the more reason to assure you that you do, in fact, deserve the entire world. it's also happily up to jeonghan to deliver it to you. one warm hand placed on your cold ones and a couple of soothing circles rubbed atop of them later, and jeonghan has effectively drawn you out of your own bubble.

"whatever you're worrying about," jeonghan exhales, "don't." when jeonghan senses the tension releasing from your body, he drives his point across with a home run. "plus," he nods at the game he bought to accompany the console, mario kart 8, "we can play together this time, too."

there's no reason to argue, you conclude, especially not against jeonghan. a deep breath resets your mentality, and you try your best to return to your usual self, biting back a smile. "you know I won't go easy on you, right?"

"oh please," jeonghan ruffles your already messy hair, "in your condition, you'll be begging me to go easy on you."

frowning, you take a moment to envision this unlikely scenario. unwilling to even entertain the possibility of losing to jeonghan, you dodge the challenge altogether. "how about we play another time," you mutter.

and at that, jeonghan jumps to his feet, grabbing the switch and the game in one fell swoop. "i knew you were gonna say that," he giggles, "which is why I prepared something else."

after quickly shooting a prayer to whatever gods were out there, you tentatively say, "please don't tell me you got another ridiculously expensive gift. this is more than enough." you're more than enough, you want to add, but don't.

jeonghan all but skips to the kitchen. "i wouldn't exactly call this a gift." a painfully slow thirty seconds pass until he returns to the couch in the living room, to you, carefully balancing a plate of various desserts in one hand, and cradling what appeared to be a lighter in the other.

you squint, double checking if you were actually seeing what you thought you were seeing. "what exactly would you call it, then?"

figuring that calling it an act of service would be much too blatant, jeonghan settles on "lunch."

"lunch?" you eye the plate, definitively making out two chocolate bars, a sleeve of graham crackers, and a bundle of marshmallows.

once his rendition of a charcuterie board is secure on the coffee table, jeonghan maneuvers his way onto the couch and under the blanket, shoulder to shoulder with you one and only. "you haven't eaten all day. and i know you probably don't want to eat a proper meal," jeonghan gestures at their awaiting food, "but I also know you crave sweets when you're sick."

it should be second nature by now, really, with how many times jeonghan so casually demonstrates just how well he knows you, maybe even more than you knows yourself. but jeonghan leaves you in awe every time, regardless. 

s'mores are your designated comfort food. the entire process is just so enjoyable, from prepping the ingredients and assembling the structure, to trying to eat the whole thing in one bite lest the remnants ooze out the sides. and so you both do just that.

lacking anything close to a fireplace or a firepit, you roast marshmallows skewered with chopsticks above the dim flame from the lighter. as per the laws of physics (or something like that), the first marshmallow never goes well, and you both end up with a big black burnt chunk of goo. you effectively hurl yours in the trash, but jeonghan dares to take a nibble off his own. he learns that curiosity does, in fact, kill the cat, and jeonghan scrambles to wash out that terrible ashy aftertaste on his tongue. then he hears the faint sound of you snorting, and he concludes that it was worth it.

you tackle the issue of melting the chocolate next, but it's jeonghan who requests to handle this part because he doesn't want to risk you getting burnt. 

and so you watch as jeonghan carefully heats the chocolate piece by piece over the fire. and you note all of jeonghan's habits you've picked up on over the years. how jeonghan's tongue peaks out from the corner of his mouth when he's super concentrated, how he furrows his brows when he tries to see better, how he forgets to blink when there's one specific thing on his mind. and you feel yourself likewise melting like the chocolate, because even to this day, you still can't fathom how you were so lucky to have jeonghan to call yours.

"i hope you're hungry," jeonghan announces, grinning ear to ear. 

you reciprocate the expression. it's assembly time. 

you make a mess. it was inevitable, honestly. there was only so much precaution to be taken from your comfy position on the couch, legs and feet all tangled up in each other. and you wouldn't have it any other way.

laughter outshines any noise from the long-forgotten sitcom playing on the TV. each bounce of your shoulder from an accompanying chuckle is followed by the blanket sliding down, just a bit. jeonghan tries to be slick when he drapes his arm around you, a front to make sure he can pull the blanket back up every time it threatens to slip. but this is you. you, who notice everything that jeonghan does for you. you, who's grateful for all of it. you, who don't think you can love jeonghan any more than you already do.

—

an impromptu nap is essential for their post-s'more recovery. the last two love languages, physical touch and quality time, are much harder to gauge. considering jeonghan's affection is usually on full display 24/7 and the fact that he counts his entire lifespan with you as quality time, he can only hope you treasure your moments together as much as he does. and honestly, at this point, jeonghan is much too tired to care about his quest to uncover your love language. the only mission on his mind is to get you as close as possible, and so he seeks to accomplish just that.

pulling you into his arms, you both slump onto your sides, feet dangling off the edge of the couch, hands wrapped around shoulders and backs, and eyes locked unwavering onto the other's. jeonghan slips his bicep under your neck, fashioning a faux pillow, and rests your head against his chest, just above his beating heart.

you squirm in a weak attempt to create some distance between you. (you're not successful.) "i'm gonna get you sick."

jeonghan only snuggles closer. "i don't care," emphasizing his point with a chaste kiss upon your forehead, and then, oh so gently, on your nose, both cheeks, and finally, still ever so softly, on your lips. 

you've both long since outgrown the butterflies in your stomachs. what used to elicit sparks of electricity at every touch now resound in echoes of warmth. and lying here, in jeonghan's embrace, in jeonghan's comfort, in jeonghan's life, you feel so safe. you'd spend eternity with jeonghan if you could, but right now, when the passage of time has all but stopped as you continue to hold each other in your own beautiful world, what you have right now is all you want.

—

you both wake up as you were, still entangled in each other's body, each other's affection, each other's hearts.

you let yourself drown in the serenity that was jeonghan before you ask the question that's been tickling the back of your mind the whole day. "what was up with you today? you were oddly kind, even more so than you usually are."

an instant flush of red rises upon jeonghan's cheeks, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think jeonghan was the sick one, not you. "this is gonna sound stupid," jeonghan says.

and to that, your first instinct is to reach for jeonghan's hand and intertwine your fingers, still perfectly warm under the blanket. "nothing you say is ever stupid." it's true. on a scale of endearing to adorable, never once have you thought jeonghan resembled anything close to the word stupid.

jeonghan bites his lip, as he confesses, "i hated seeing how miserable you were, and i wanted to cheer you up, but i forgot what your love language is, so i thought i'd do one of each to see which one you like the most, but you were equally receptive to all of them, and i feel dumb for not knowing what means the most to you."

when you don't immediately respond, jeonghan sighs and chides himself. "i told you, it's stupid."

but you just laugh, sporting a grin so wide your eyes turn into mini crescent moons. "yoon jeonghan, you're ridiculous in the best way possible." you unlace your finger in favor of cupping your palm around jeonghan's cheek, still blazing from embarrassment. "did you know that?"

jeonghan flits his gaze downwards, uncharacteristically shy towards the one person he's bared his entire soul to. "could you still remind me what your love language is?" he sheepishly requests, adding on, "just for future reference."

you just smile, and you hope your words are enough to convey the intensity of the way your whole body swells with an undeniable warmth every time jeonghan does anything. "as long as it's with you," you use your thumb to tilt jeonghan's head back up, ensuring he can see just how sincere you are when you say, "i love it all just the same." and then you lean in, breaths already mingling, lips centimeters from meeting, hearts seconds from colliding, when you whisper, "i love you all just the same."

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 16: CUPID'S CHOKEHOLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to a head.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: mentions of pregnancy, angst, dom!reader, sub!satoru, handjobs, riding, teasing, light degradation, dacryphilia, vaginal sex

ੈ✩ wc: 8.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: happy thanksgiving yall can stop threatening me with bombs now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2011

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you lead Megumi and Tsumiki down the bustling street. Christmas decorations twinkle in shop windows. You pull your scarf tighter, glancing back to make sure the children are keeping up.

Megumi trudges along, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression as serious as ever. Tsumiki, by contrast, practically skips beside you, her eyes wide with wonder at the festive displays. They both wear matching blushes, the cold painting their pale cheeks the same roseate pink.

"Can we get taiyaki?" Tsumiki asks, tugging on your sleeve and pointing to a small shop ahead.

You smile down at her. "Of course. What about you, Megumi? What would you like?"

The boy shrugs, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Whatever's fine."

You lead them into the warmth of the taiyaki shop, the sweet aroma of red bean paste and custard filling the air. As you wait in line, you crouch down to Megumi's level.

"You know," you say softly, ruffling his hair, "it's okay to want things, Megumi. To have preferences. You don't always have to go along with what everyone else wants."

He looks at you, surprise flashing across his face before his usual stoic expression returns. "I... I like the chocolate ones," he admits quietly.

You scratch his head affectionately. "Chocolate it is, then."

You place your order - custard for Tsumiki, chocolate for Megumi, and red bean for yourself. Afterwards, you find a bench in a nearby park to enjoy your treats. Tsumiki chatters away about her upcoming school play, while Megumi listens intently, occasionally nodding or offering a quiet comment.

"You’re gonna stay with us for the holidays, right? Are you gonna move in?" Tsumiki asks suddenly, her voice hopeful.

The question catches you off guard, and you fumble for an answer. "Um, yeah, I will. Stay, that is. And you guys know you can always just knock on my door downstairs."

You’d agreed to stay until the semester ended in the spring. You’d been around for a little over a month, but you already had your doubts about going back to Kyoto. Already, you found yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning while in Tokyo, seasonal depression be damned. You tell yourself it’s not because of the white-haired sorcerer that occupies your thoughts constantly — it’s the familiarity of the city. And the kids, of course.

To both Tsumiki and Satoru’s dismay (and a slight frown from Megumi), you decided to take the offer of an apartment the floor below them. It wasn’t exactly vacant, as Satoru claimed — the previous tenant, a well-off socialite of some sort, needed a sublet. You needed your own space from Satoru for your own sanity, and he was willing to pay the rent for the allotted time you could be there.

Tsumiki pouts. “But it’s easier if you just live in our apartment!”

“I can’t do that since you’ve converted the spare room into yours with all your dolls laying around,” you snort. Tsumiki opens her mouth to protest but decides against it, considering you have a point.

“Hmph. Still. You can sleep in Satoru’s room, right? It’s so big!”

Your face nearly pales at the suggestion, ironically. As if it was something scandalous, which perhaps it would be considering your complicated relationship. You’re sure he’d be thrilled if you brought it up.

Megumi looks up at you, his green eyes serious. "We like having you here," he says softly. "Satoru-san is... different when you're around. Better."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "Better?"

Tsumiki nods enthusiastically. "He smiles more! And he doesn't forget to make breakfast as much."

You chuckle, imagining Satoru's indignant expression if he could hear this conversation. "Well, I'm glad I can help. But Satoru cares about you both very much, you know."

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a photo attachment from him. There’s a boiling pot of… something, on the stove.

satoru: you guys aren’t going to leave me to eat by myself, are you????? ^-^

you: we’ll be home soon. the kids wanted taiyaki

satoru: don’t help them spoil their dinner :(

you: it’s probably more edible than what you’re making

satoru: :( say that to my face at least :(

You chuckle, locking your phone. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get home before Satoru burns down the kitchen.”

As you walk back home with Megumi and Tsumiki, their words echo in your mind. The realization that you've become such an integral part of their lives fills you with a trepidation, but also tenderness. You've been careful not to overstep, to maintain some semblance of boundaries, but the lines have been blurring more and more each day.

The apartment is warm and inviting when you return, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You help the kids out of their winter gear, hanging up coats and scarves as they rush to see what Satoru is cooking.

You follow more slowly, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Satoru stands at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. His hair is slightly mussed, and he's wearing the ridiculous "Kiss the Cook" apron you bought him as a joke for his birthday. 

Satoru looks up, catching your eye. His face breaks into a warm smile, one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat.

"Welcome home," he says softly. “Did you guys have fun?”

Tsumiki launches into an excited recounting of your afternoon, while Megumi nods along, occasionally adding a quiet comment. Satoru listens attentively, his expression softening as he watches the children.

You move into the kitchen, drawn by the warmth and the tantalizing aroma. "What's for dinner?" you ask, peering into the pot.

"Curry," Satoru announces proudly. "My specialty."

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Since when is curry your specialty?"

He grins, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "Since I found your recipe book and followed the instructions very, very carefully."

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You playfully push him away, ignoring the knowing look Tsumiki gives you.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation flows easily. Megumi talks about a new technique he's been practicing, while Tsumiki regales you with tales from her drama club. Satoru watches it all with a contented smile, occasionally catching your eye across the table.

Later, after the kids have gone to bed, you find yourself alone with Satoru in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap as you absently run your fingers through his hair.

Satoru stretches languidly, cat-like. The movement causes his shirt to ride up slightly, revealing his stomach. You force yourself to look away, busying yourself with whatever’s on the television.

“So," Satoru says, his voice low and teasing, "what do you want for Christmas?"

You look down to face him, scoffing. "Who says I'm expecting anything from you?"

He grins that cocky, infuriating grin that still makes your stomach flip. "Come on, Twigs. There must be something you want."

“Haven’t really thought about it.

“C’mon. You must have.”

You weigh your words carefully. "How about... a nice, quiet evening, where you don’t bother me with your bullshit?"

Satoru laughs, his blue eyes warm as he regards you. "I think that can be arranged," he says softly.

He gets closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that you find yourself leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"You know," Satoru murmurs, his voice low, "the kids were asking me the other day if you were going to be their new mom."

Your breath catches in your throat. You narrow your eyes. "That’s not funny."

“What? Their words, not mine.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Satoru, we've talked about this. We can't just jump into playing house. It's not fair to the kids."

He sits up, his expression suddenly serious. "I know. But... is it so crazy to think about? Us, together, raising them? I mean, we’ve already been doing it, basically, right?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you. You can feel your heart racing, a mix of longing and fear swirling in your chest.

"It's not crazy," you admit softly. "But it's complicated. We have a lot of history, Satoru. A lot of things we still need to work through. Also, you’re freshly twenty-two. That’s hardly the age to be a considered a guardian."

“But I am their guardian!” he frowns. “And your mom’s pretty young. Didn’t she have you around our age?”

“That’s not even — we’re going off topic. This isn’t about me having a kid,” you blush, the brief thought of mothering a child of your own with Satoru send a brief shock to your chest. “Just relax, okay? Take things slow.”

Satoru intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Slow," he agrees. "I can do slow."

But even as he says it, you can see the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But just so you know, I'm not very good at being patient."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gojo Satoru."

He grins, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap. "Can you blame me? Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?"

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your thigh. "Satoru," you warn, but there's no real heat behind it.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm behaving. This is me behaving."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quips, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver at the contact, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. "The kids," you remind him weakly.

"Are fast asleep," he murmurs against your skin. "And I can be very, very quiet when I need to be."

“Speaking of asleep,” you say quickly, leaning away. “That’s exactly what I need to be right now.”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a whine, which you would rebuke more efficiently if the sound didn’t make heat settle in the pit of your stomach.

“You still didn’t give me my birthday present,” he murmurs. You don’t miss the suggestiveness in his gaze.

“I didn’t say I’d fuck you.”

“You kind of did,” he pouts.

“You’re still on that, huh? I was teasing you. And drunk.”

The last time you’d went out for drinks with him and Shoko, you’d gone home with him in a good mood, apparently good enough to let him be handsy. He took whatever crumbs he could get from you, played the part of a good dog after he had a few fruity cocktails. You let him kiss you on the side of your mouth and you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Even if he’d shut up, the puppy-dog looks he’d throw you would push you over the edge.

“You tease me every damn day by existing. I should banish you.”

“Right. Like you’d survive more time apart from me,” you snort.

“Of course not,” he rolls his eyes. “I love you too much.”

You meet his gaze, face warming at the casualness of his declaration. This is Satoru stripped bare, all his walls down, offering you his heart. It’s still something you’re not used to — the way he gives affection so easily. He always had, of course, but never so candid in sincerity.

It made you sick almost, like being sugar-drunk on something much too decadent. Humiliated you with how warm it made you, your tongue heavy as lead in your mouth like a teenager again.

“Oh?” Satoru grins. “Did that get you going?”

“No. Shut up.”

“You like that. Noted.”

You scoff, rising from the couch. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart!” he calls after you. “Love you.”

“Goodnight, weirdo,” you huff, trudging your feet towards the door. You pause as you touch the doorknob before turning around. “I love you too.”

You leave too quickly to gauge his reaction, but you feel his smile burn into the back of your neck.

__

You come home to Jiji rubbing his head against your shin. He was still small — a runt, resembling more like a soot sprite than the Ghibli cat he was named after. He acted a lot like Megumi, truthfully. Clung to you, bombarded your space especially if Satoru was around.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, scooping the cat from the floor to nuzzle. “You miss the kids, don’t you?”

He mews at you as if to say yes and you grin. You make your way upstairs, Jiji’s head tucked in your shoulder as you unlock Satoru’s apartment with your spare key.

Satoru is already in the kitchen, hair tousled from the day’s mission. His eyes light up when he sees you walk in. “Twigs! Ready for Operation Birthday Boy?” he grins, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you can greet him properly, your gaze drifts over the amount of balloons and streamers haphazardly aligning the walls. Many are Digimon-themed, despite knowing full well that Megumi preferred Pokemon, but that isn’t an argument that was worth having with Satoru unless you wanted him to revert to his child-self.

“You… went all out,” you mutter, still examining the expanse of the living room. There were streamers every color under the sun strung around, comically bright in contrast with the luxury apartments plain white walls.

The smell of cake batter and melting chocolate permeates through the air. You notice then as you step closer towards Satoru that the Italian marble of the kitchen island is dusted with flour. You groan.

“Satoru, I thought we were picking up a cake—”

“But a homemade one has more love!” he scoffs. He’s made a mess of his apron, not to mention there was a streak of pink frosting on his cheekbone.

“And who said you were qualified enough to bake?”

“Hey! I’m trying here! And don’t worry, I’m not making dinner, obviously. We still have to pick up the hors d’oeuvres from the catering place—”

“What? We’re celebrating a nine-year-old.”

“You get expensive taste when you live with me,” he shrugs. “You like oysters, right? I heard it’s a really good aphrodisiac— ow!”

He flinches when you flick him in the forehead. He pouts, rubbing his head as if you’d actually inflicted damage on him.

“The hell was that for?”

You ignore his question. “Where are the kids? It’s like… dinner time. School should be out by now.”

“I told Shoko to pick them up and stall. I’m still preparing.”

“Satoru — seriously? You decided to make the cake right before we celebrate?”

“It won’t take long! This is a state-of-the-art oven for your information!” Satoru scoffs, rinsing his hands in the sink. The amount of flour on the marble of the island makes you cringe. And was that… an egg yolk stain in the corner?

“That doesn’t mean—”

The oven beeps as if to taunt you. Satoru grins, putting on oven mitts that are comically too small for him to take out the cake. It’s certainly cake-shaped despite the lumpy bubbles on top.

“Wanna help me decorate the cake for the birthday boy?”

You move in front of him, shooing him away. He pouts again, the expression making you want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him, and hands you a butter knife and a tub of mint green frosting.

“Go crazy, Twigs,” he sighs. “I should shower anyway.”

You take the time to meticulously cover the entirety of the chocolate cake in the frosting, with Happy Birthday, Megumi! in loopy script in the middle. You’re quick to clean the rest of the kitchen, still reeling from how much of a mess Satoru managed to make in your absence.

By the time Satoru emerges from his bedroom, the kitchen is mostly clean, and he steps into the room in a crisp baby-blue dress shirt and black slacks. You try to ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly at the sight of it. It was your favorite outfit on him and he probably wore it knowing that. You huff lightly, looking away.

You gain reprieve from his teasing when you hear the door open. More balloons float into the room, all bound in Tsumiki’s small hand as she walks in with Shoko and Megumi.

“Happy birthday, Megumi-kun!” you exclaim in glee, walking towards him for a hug. He smiles brightly, blushing as he hugs you back.

Satoru notices the takeout boxes in Shoko’s hands and raises a brow. “You took them to eat dinner already?”

“Obviously. They definitely weren’t going to eat the foie gras you ordered or whatever the fuck,” she snorts. “But more for the adults, eh?”

“Can you not swear around them –”

“I knew the word fuck before!” Tsumiki beams. You share an exasperated look with Satoru, but he’s only holding in a laugh.

As Shoko and Satoru get the kids settled, you lock Jiji in the spare room to prevent Megumi’s Divine dogs from chasing the poor thing. They were all bared teeth, bright eyes. Still puppies, still young like the kids. 

Afterwards, you return to the living room just in time for Satoru to bring out the cake with pastel lit candles atop of it.

Megumi is quiet as everyone shrouds him, gazing at the birthday cake like he’s never seen one before. He hasn’t really — maybe he did when his parents were still together and alive and didn’t fuck off to somewhere else, he doesn’t know — but even he did, he wouldn’t remember. He had only known shared dandelion wishes with Tsumiki, fuzzy memories of Toji patting his head when on his sixth birthday.

You look at him now and you see a child who doesn’t know what to do with all the love surrounding him, and the sight reminds you of yourself.

“Make a wish, Megumi,” you say softly. He looks up at you with wide eyes as if making a wish were to make a sacrifice. He closes his eyes and blows the candles out, smiling softly as everyone claps.

You lean back on the couch as you watch him unwrap his presents, which include an abundance of hastily-wrapped boxes from Satoru. Toya and electronics that the kid probably haven’t dreamt of owning. Satoru was still young in his own right and it showed in his animated way of speaking, excitedly presenting his gifts to Megumi like he was an older brother. Your chest feels uncharacteristically warm as you watch.

You, Satoru, and Shoko watch as the kids play amongst themselves, indulging yourselves in the catering that Satoru had bought, which was more of a luxury takeout order more than anything. The bottle of wine that Shoko had brought makes you able to tolerate Satoru’s antics. You refuse to admit to him, but you even find him endearing tonight.

After the ordeal, Shoko hugs you and departs to her own apartment, while Satoru entertains the kids with a new video game console he’d bought for Megumi. After cleaning, Satoru insists in you joining, which results in many competitive games of Super Street Fighter IV.

Tsumiki is the first to doze off on the couch, her head cradled in your lap as you stroke her hair gently.

“Hey, kid,” Satoru whispers to Megumi, “Looks like your sister’s knocked out. It’s about time for bed, don’t ya think?”

“But I wanted to play more Final Fantasy!” Megumi whines.

“We can play some more tomorrow,” you quip. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he pouts, taking your hand as you lead him to his bedroom.

Satoru is lounging on the couch once you return, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just a good mom.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Told you we’re not playing house, Satoru,” you scoff, slumping your body into the couch next him.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m just complimenting your ability to rein in some brats.”

“Had a lot of practice from you.”

He laughs.

You glance at him, noticing his mussed-up hair, the soft wrinkles of his button-down. He looked more grown-up than he meant to be. It wasn’t that Satoru looked particularly mature, but seeing him slightly disheveled after handling Megumi’s birthday made him look older than how you’d seen him in earlier years — childish, boyish. In the light of the dim lamp beside him, he looked like a man with responsibilities.

It was like seeing him in the future. But you’re here now, in his apartment, in the present, and the sight of him looking so domestic is doing awful things to your heart.

“You’re… really good with them, too, you know. You don’t really need me,” you murmur.

“Huh?” Satoru raises his brows. “No. Of course I need you.”

You almost blush at that. You’re glad for the wine that he’s given you, relaxing your muscles, giving you an excuse for the flush in your cheeks.

“You can do it on your own, though,” you say softly. “You’re just… better at this than I thought you’d be. It’s admirable. That’s all.”

His gaze softens. “Thanks, Twigs. That means a lot.”

He looks at you then, almost amused, as if the concept of a compliment from you had been completely unheard of. As if the notion alone made him flattered enough to forget humility. (Though, you’re sure the prodigal Satoru Gojo has never known humility.)

“So you’re praising me, then? Do I win best babysitter of the year?” he chuckles.

“Sure. Whatever,” you snort. “Don’t get such a big head about it.”

“Oh, but I must. You think I’m a complete disaster usually, but you’re telling me I was good with the kids tonight? My head is huge, Twigs.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. Trying to hide the way your stomach feels hotter when you look at him and his charming grin. He looks back at you with an expression that makes your pulse go faster.

“You’re cute.”

You blink at him. His voice is heady and husky, his gaze soft. Tentative as he leans in, clearly wary that he’d spook you by crossing the invisible line you’ve set since you decided to move back to Tokyo.

“Speechless, baby?” he drawls. “I didn’t even try hard at flirting this time.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, paying more attention to your glass of wine. “You’re hardly seducing me right now.”

“Never said I was trying to,” he murmurs, leaning into you. His hand is on your knee and you don’t swat him away, for once. In his mind, this is progress.

“But you’re always trying to.” You narrow your eyes.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He hums, the vibration of his voice like warm honey. “Mm. Am not.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed now.” You rise from the couch, but Satoru catches your wrist in his large, pale hand. You look at him with a brow raised.

“Sleep here tonight?”

“No.”

“C’mon. Please? I won’t try anything.”

You contemplate. You aren’t truly at the brink of exhaustion, but the demands Yaga-sensei made of you at school had started to become one of your main stressors. You’re tired. You definitely don’t feel like going downstairs to your own apartment, Jiji in hand, having to clean up the mess in your own space that you ignored in lieu of preparing for Megumi’s birthday.

You swallow, clenching your jaw. “Fine. I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

Satoru smiles wide, flashing his white teeth. Angel-headed under the soft glow of the lamp. You have to look away before your stomach stirs with something you’ll ruminate over.

“Stay in my bed?”

“Satoru—”

“Come on. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. Also, the spare room is a mess. The kids made a blanket fort in there last night that is yet to be deconstructed.”

“Okay. Whatever,” you mutter, retreating to the bathroom to freshen up. Afterwards, you return to Jiji and scoop him up in your arms, pleased at the way the cat nuzzles into your face.

You step into Satoru's bedroom, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The bed is enormous, draped in crisp white sheets that look almost too pristine to touch. It smells faintly of him—clean, like fresh linen and a hint of something sharp and sweet, like cedarwood mixed with sugar. You’re already regretting this decision, though perhaps not entirely for the reasons you’d like to admit.

You undress and change into one of his t-shirts before crawling into his bed. Satoru follows you in shortly after, pausing in the doorway with an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face.

“You know,” he begins, leaning casually against the frame as he folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t think my birthday present would be you gracing me with your presence in my bed tonight, but honestly? Best gift ever.”

You glare at him from over your shoulder as you set Jiji down on the floor. The little cat immediately darts under Satoru’s bed for refuge—likely avoiding any further encounters with Megumi’s Divine dogs, or perhaps the bubbling conflict in the room itself.

“Your birthday was weeks ago. Don’t push your luck,” you warn flatly. “I gave in because I’m tired. This isn’t some… romantic gesture.”

“Oh, sure,” he teases, taking a few steps closer until he towers over you. His voice drops to a playful murmur as he gleefully adds, “But it could be.”

You groan audibly and climb onto the far side of the bed—intentionally as far away from him as possible—and tug the edge of the comforter over yourself without sparing him another glance. "Goodnight, Satoru."

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling off his socks and tossing them carelessly across the room. He casually strips off his shirt and pants, throwing them somewhere near the hamper – not inside it, of course – before flopping down beside you like a content cat. He stretches out languidly, one arm tucked behind his head as he turns to watch you. You try not to dwell on the fact that he’s beside you, only in his boxers.

The room falls quiet save for the soft hum of the heater kicking on and Jiji occasionally rustling beneath the bed. You shut your eyes tightly and try to relax, but there’s no ignoring how aware you are of Satoru's presence beside you—the way his breathing evens out gradually or how his arm brushes yours when he shifts.

Minutes pass in silence before he finally speaks again, his voice softer this time—devoid of its usual teasing edge. “You really think I’m good with them? Megumi and Tsumiki?”

You open your eyes but don’t immediately respond. There’s something vulnerable about his tone that catches you off guard—a rare glimpse at the pieces of himself he so often keeps hidden beneath his bravado.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly after a pause. Turning your head slightly to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains, you add honestly, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

He turns his head toward you now too, studying you intently. For a second, neither of you speak. His gaze holds yours long enough for your chest to tighten uncomfortably under its weight.

“You’re good for them too,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. His voice has lost all pretense now—it’s raw and earnest in a way that has always made you feel unsteady around him. "For us."

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls over you both, but you can still feel Satoru’s begging eyes boring into your skull. You look over to him and it feels like his blue eyes are glowing in the dark. He strips his gaze from you and looks up at the ceiling instead, feigning a casual demeanor.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken tension. You can feel the heat radiating from Satoru's body, achingly close yet still too far. His eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, are dark and intense as they roam over your face.

"Twigs," he murmurs, his voice low. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. In the dim light, his eyes are impossibly blue, gleaming with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek with a tenderness that surprises you.

"I meant what I said," Satoru continues, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're good for us. For me."

He moves closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone. You can feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he leans in.

You swallow hard. "Satoru," you warn, but your voice lacks conviction.

He sighs but leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Please."

You know you should push him away. You know this is dangerous territory, that you're teetering on the edge of something irreversible. You’re too stubborn for your own good, both you and Satoru know this. It’s why you curl into his chest instead of pressing your mouth to his. The fear of falling into his charm is futile, especially with how much you want him, frustratingly so.

Satoru's hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, it occurs to you how close you are to him, how intimate this feels. The air between you feels charged, electric.

He says your name, this time, bedroom-soft. Not Twigs, not baby, but your name.

Instead of shying away as you normally might, something shifts inside you. Maybe it's the wine from earlier, or the vulnerability in Satoru's voice, or simply the culmination of months of unresolved tension. Whatever it is, it emboldens you.

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to head. When you hear the way Satoru says your name, you decide that you need catharsis.

In one fluid motion, you grab Satoru’s wrist, pinning it above his head as you roll on top of him. His eyes widen in surprise, lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Is this what you want, Satoru?" you breathe, your face inches from his. "Is this why you've been pushing so hard?"

"W-what are you doing?" he stammers, caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

Your free hand trails down his chest, fingernails scraping lightly against the skin of his bare chest. Satoru shudders beneath you, his body arching into your touch. You can feel his heart racing, see the flush creeping up his neck under the pale moonlight.

"You talk a big game," you murmur. "But can you handle it when someone else takes control?"

Satoru swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Try me," he challenges, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays his nervousness.

You pull back, meeting his gaze with a taunting smile. Slowly, deliberately, you grind your hips against his, eliciting a low moan from Satoru. His free hand moves to grip your waist, but you catch it, pinning both his wrists above his head.

"No,” you chastise. "No touching unless I say so."

Satoru's eyes darken with desire, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're killing me, Twigs," he groans.

"Good," you purr, leaning down to nip his jaw. 

You take your time exploring his body with your hands, savoring every gasp and shudder you draw from him as if it’s the first time you’ve touched him. Satoru writhes beneath you, struggling against your grip, desperate for more contact. But you maintain control, setting a torturously slow pace that has him practically begging.

"Please," he whimpers, his usual cockiness completely shattered. "I need you."

You smile against his skin, enjoying this newfound power. You scoff. "I thought you said you could do slow?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow. "That was before I knew how evil you could be."

"Evil?" you chuckle, trailing your fingers down his chest. "I'm barely taunting you. If anything, I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Besides, I thought you liked it when I took charge."

Satoru shivers beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I do," he admits, his voice strained. "God, I do."

You smile, a predatory glint in your eyes as you slowly grind against him. The friction draws a low moan from Satoru, his hips bucking up involuntarily. He can feel the warmth of your core, your heat against his cock with only two layers of fabric separating him from what he truly wants.

You tsk, pressing him firmly back down onto the mattress.

"Stay still," you command. "Or I'll stop altogether."

With deliberate slowness, you trail your fingers down his chest, savoring the way his muscles quiver beneath your touch. Satoru's breathing grows ragged as your hand dips lower, tracing the V of his hips before stopping just short of where he wants – no, needs you most.

"Twigs," he groans, frustration evident in his voice. "Stop teasing."

You laugh, nipping at his collarbone. "But you make it so fun, Satoru."

Your free hand ghosts over the front of his boxers, barely applying pressure. Satoru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but you pull away with a wicked grin.

“I told you I’d stop if you misbehave.”

Satoru's eyes flash with a mix of desire and defiance. "You wouldn't dare."

You raise an eyebrow, accepting his challenge. Slowly, you begin to pull away, but Satoru's words tumble out in a rush.

"Wait!” he gasps, panicked. “I'm sorry, I'll be good. Please, don't stop."

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through you. You've never seen Satoru like this - completely at your mercy, his usual bravado stripped away. Even in the dark, his eyes usually glow aquamarine, but right now pools of onyx stare back at you underneath heavy white lashes.

"That's better," you murmur, rewarding him with a slow, sensual kiss. He whines into it, licks into your mouth like he’s begging you to eat him whole. 

You take your time with him mapping every dip and curve of his upper body with your lips and tongue. Satoru writhes beneath you, soft whimpers escaping him as you lavish attention on his most sensitive spots.

When you finally free him from his boxers, Satoru lets out a sigh of relief. But instead of giving him what he wants, you continue your slow pace, placing feather-light kisses along his inner thighs. He huffs when you press his thumb against his leaking slit, while you look at him with a grin as you apply pressure.

“You have such a pretty cock, Satoru.”

His face gets even warmer, if that was possible. “Sh-shut up–”

You raise your brows. “What was that, sweetheart?”

His eyes widen aa your mean expression. "N-Nothing! I’m sorry. Just – please," Satoru begs, his voice hoarse. "I need you. I need—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. The kids are sleeping, remember? We wouldn't want to wake them, would we?"

Satoru's breath hitches at the reminder, and he bites his lip to stifle a moan as he watches you spit on his cock, finally wrapping your hand around him. You set a maddeningly slow rhythm, watching with satisfaction as Satoru struggles to keep quiet. Your mouth grazes him, only barely. He needs you around him, completely. His cock is fucking aching for it.

A whine escapes Satoru's throat, his hips jerking upward. "Twigs, please. I can't— I need—"

Cruelly, you cover his mouth with your palm. You have half the mind to gag him. You’re tempted to, really, but you’ve already slipped off your panties and thrown them somewhere across the room.

“Baby—”

“Stop fucking talking,” you hiss, your hand around his throat. He gasps, looks at you with half-lidded eyes. Mouth parted. Lovestruck. “Be good.”

He complies, whimpering softly instead of pleading with useless words. You watch his eyes roll back as your hand moves from his shaft to his tip, your spit lubricating his twitching cock along with the precum collecting at the top.

You savor the power you hold over him, watching his chest heave with each labored breath. Satoru's usual cockiness has evaporated, leaving him vulnerable and needy beneath you. It's intoxicating.

You can feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut with the effort of staying quiet. His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, eyes shut tight. You release his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest as you position yourself above him.

"Look at me," you command softly.

Satoru's eyes flutter open, hazy with desire. His hands graze your waist tentatively, smoothing over the soft skin over your ribs underneath the t-shirt (his t-shirt) that clings loosely to your frame.

He can almost feel how wet you are, he swears it. His Six Eyes can see everything from the tremble of your pulse, sensing how much your desires are waiting to jump out of your skin. The wetness of your pink mouth. He feels delirious with want, deluded, maybe, just from the intensity of his senses as he takes in your presence.

He could be hallucinating how intense it all really is. He isn’t sure — he’s too drunk on the fact that you’re in his lap at all, partially bare. Your bare cunt hovering over his cock. Taunting. Fucking tease. If he wanted, he could flip you over and restrain you. Have your hands yanked to your lower back, make you yelp like a slut.

But he doesn’t. He’s already a mess for you, no matter what you intend to do to him. He knows there’s something so awful inside of him that’s waiting to crawl out something only you can coax out.

When you look at him with moonlight reflecting in your pupils, the desire overtakes him. Despite himself, he rises him to meet your mouth, desperate for a kiss or any semblance of one, but your hand tightens around his throat. He moans at the pressure of it and blushes, embarrassed. He whines.

“Ha. Nice try. You’re so fucking eager, huh? Missed me that much?” you taunt. It’s cruel and you know it. You’ve known how much he’s wanted you — you’ve defied it when he’s been too candid about it. And now, while his heart is on his sleeve with your name in the center, you tease him.

He would take you over his knee for it if he wasn’t fucking melting underneath you.

“Of course I missed you,” Satoru grits.

“Oooh, so feisty. You look like an angry dog, you know that?” you sneer.

“Belittle me all you want,” he narrows his eyes, “Just let me — fuck —”

He perks up his head and tries to kiss you but you reject him. He has to stifle a groan. His resolve is crumbling into nothingness.

“Please fuck me,” he gasps. “Or just kiss me. Do anything you want. I just — I don’t care. I need you —”

Satoru writhes against the bedsheets. Grits his teeth, baring his canines like a dog ready to fight. But you’re as gentle as you are evil, able to weaken his efforts just by the slight tilt of your plump mouth. A knowing smirk.

“You need me?” you laugh.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Need you. Only you —”

You spit and he watches the drool cascade down to his aching cock. His eyes widen, mesmerized and choked up as you stroke him. He shudders, body arching towards you at the contact.

“Oh, fuck—” he breathes, unable to form words. Your hand feels better than his own. The warmth of your body above him makes his blood sing.

He pants pathetically as you grin down at him with wolf-teeth. He could cry from your touch alone.

"Relax," you breathe, leaning down to nip at his earlobe. "I'll give you what you need."

“Can’t relax — need — ah!” he whimpers. “Please, please —”

“Are you begging?” you taunt, laughing.

“Yes!” he groans.

You hold his gaze as you slowly sink down onto him, savoring the stretch and fullness. A strangled sound escapes him, quickly muffled as he bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

You roll your hips carefully, rising and falling with agonizing slowness. Satoru's hips twitch upwards, seeking more, but you pin them down firmly. Your movements are languid as you relish each tiny gasp and stifled moan you draw from him.

You gradually increase your speed, grinding down harder with each thrust. Satoru's breathing grows ragged, his chest heaving. You can feel him getting close, see it in the tension of his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

Just as he's about to fall over the edge, you slow to a stop. Satoru lets out a frustrated whine, cut off as you press your lips to his in a bruising kiss.

"Not yet," you murmur against his mouth. "I'm not done with you."

“I’m so — fuck,” he slurs, “So close —”

“That’s too bad. Fucking wait.”

His cock throbs at your tone. Your face is calm, tauntingly so, but your voice is cutting with authority.

“God, if I wasn’t so in love with you right now I’d be giving you the worst spanking you’ve ever—” You cut Satoru off, shoving your fingers in his mouth. His eyes roll back immediately, gagging, and you laugh cruelly.

“Oh, you love that. You little slut.”

He moans at the degradation, bucks his hips up in attempt to meet your core again. His large hands are around your waist, trembling as they press in with a bruising grip. You remove your fingers from his mouth, using both your hands to pry off his hands and pin them next to his head. 

“Hey,” you warn, talking to him as if he’s a bad dog. “Told you to be good. Hands up here until I say so, Satoru.”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes, trying not to whine. His hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching as he tries to calm the lion heart beating out of his chest while his body is forced into submission by the girl he’s always had power over. 

He stills his body despite himself, though his dick still aches in anticipation. He’s trying to be good for you. The best. 

You lean over to bite at his nipple and he gasps. The role-reversal was dizzying, particularly because you were using his own tricks against him. He feels like he might lose his mind.

“Stop– stop that–” he rasps.

“Why should I? I know you like it. You like when I play with you.”

“I– I–”

“You’d love it if I just used you, right? You want me so much you’d let me touch you in any way, any time of the day. Am I wrong?” You lift your head to meet his gaze, lifting your brow.

He flushes with embarrassment, stomach flipping at your words. “N-No,” he mumbles. 

“That’s what I thought, baby,” you chuckle. Your nails run through his undercut and he sighs in satisfaction, looking at you through wet eyes. 

“I’m keeping my hands to myself,” he simpers. “Please, just fuck me, I promise I’ll be good —”

“Oh? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes —”

“Mm. Wanna keep playing with you. Lay your head on the pillow properly for me, Satoru.” He obeys you without question, eyes half-lidded with lust as he awaits further instruction. There’s a stupor in his face, dumb with love. He’d do anything you asked. 

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, pleased at his obedience – you’ve never seen him so desperate, despite knowing he wasn’t above begging. Even before, you’d give in, allowing him to use you like a ragdoll. But this — this was entirely new territory. Satoru Gojo was being reduced to tears.

You climb over to him, cunt above his neck. His eyes are blown out, wet as his mouth. 

“You want a taste?”

He nods eagerly, too quickly, too possessed by desire to be embarrassed about it anymore. He wanted you any way he could have you.

You sink down to his mouth and the groan he lets out is louder than you expect.

“Satoru,” you hiss. “Keep it down.”

He whines, lapping at your pussy sloppily. You gasp when he flicks the tip of his tongue your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble as you try to stay upright, knuckles straining against the top of his headboard. At the same time, he uses the opportunity to squeeze the plushness of your ass – something you’d admonish him for if his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh,” you moan out softly, “That’s so good. Just like that, Satoru —”

He moans, his mouth leaking with his own drool and your arousal. It was a treat for him – you never liked sitting on his face for some reason, always blushed when he’d suggest it. But now, he was getting what he wanted. You were throwing him a bone. 

Satoru wants desperately to fist his cock, relieve the ache inside him that keeps building when he hears you whimper, but his hands are too preoccupied with touching you everywhere else. Your ass, your waist, the softness of your breasts underneath your t-shirt. His girl in the palm of his hand.

Your nails scratch his scalp, pulling on the strands of his hair as you grind on his face. Smearing yourself all over him. “Close–”

He doubles down on his efforts and all of it makes you see stars – supernovas clashing together in the fuzzy black behind your eyelids. You have to cover your mouth to keep down the sound of your moan.

His hands are squeezing your thighs. You yelp, overstimulated as his mouth latches onto your clit with no intention of letting go despite your orgasm.

“Satoru, no — no more —”

You roll off of him, ass tumbling onto his torso as he holds you upright. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, kissing you hard. You don’t have a chance to breathe before he does it, but you don’t care — your pussy drips in his lap as he maneuvers you straddle him properly, mouth moaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You can’t take it anymore. You need to be full of him.

You push him off you, pinning him to the bed as your cunt swallows his cock. You wince at the stretch after not taking him for so long, but the resistance quickly disappears from how turned on you are. You’re so overly sensitive from your orgasm that his tip hits your g-spot immediately, stimulation to the max as you grind on him at an angle that brings pressure to your insides. 

“Holy fuck –” Satoru gasps, hands on your hips in a vice grip.

He’s determined to take back any semblance of control, but he fucking loses it at the feeling of being inside you after months and months of a dry spell. You were better than any of his wet dreams. 

He bites his lip in attempt to suppress his whines, hands encouraging the roll of your hips as you grind down on his cock. He loves being used by you, fucked dumb and marvelling at the warmth of your skin on his. He lifts up your t-shirt and you let him pull it off you.

You look down and see puppy-dog eyes gazing at you spilling with tears of pleasure. Angel boy. 

You don’t give him a warning when you finish like you have in the past. It crashes into you, a collision of ecstasy. Months of denying him from your bed and your brain made you forget that he was your very best. Your first and perhaps your last. 

The thought takes the breath out of your lungs. In a moment of lucidity, you look at Satoru full-on, your lust-filled haze clearing to see him fully in adoration. Tears streaming down his cheeks, love painted all over his face.

He hiccups, whimpering. “Baby, I’m close – fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it! P-Please, can I —”

You shut him up with a kiss. “Come for me, Satoru,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re so good. So good to me.”

His eyes widen. He’s about to gasp out a reply but he’s so overwhelmed by your words, the impossible warmth of your cunt sucking him in.

“I love you so much,” you coo, hips gyrating in tandem with his hands guiding you. “You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Then go ahead and come for me, baby.”

“Ah – fuck –” Satoru feels his mouth part involuntarily, letting out the ghost of a moan as he chokes up. The ache in his body bursts into sparks, his cum filling you up to the brim as his orgasm plundered through him. 

His legs are shaking.

His comedown is all erratic breaths, small gasps as he wills his heart rate down to a normal speed. He whimpers as he lifts his head to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your warm flesh before you allow him to kiss you tenderly. 

He mumbles something against your mouth that you don’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You attempt to pull away and he whines like a child. You kiss him again and he deepens it, fingers gathering the hair at your nape.

“Letsgetmarried,” he mutters into your jaw.

“What?”

“What?”

You pull back, staring at him with an amused grin. “Did you just propose to me?”

Satoru stares back at you, his snowy hair sticking out haphazardly. “Maybe. Yes. Like, yes, but also no.”

“You’re giving me mixed signals here.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he slurs. “You fucked me too good. I wanna buy you a house.”

You burst into laughter and pet his head. “You don’t need to do that. You already pay my rent.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. Cradles you to his chest, which you don’t protest.

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

Silence fills the room, save for your soft breathing. You clear your throat and stretch your limbs.

“You’re not actually asking me to marry you, right?” you ask warily. 

“Why not? We already have kids.”

“They are not our kids —”

“They may as well be!”

“Satoru,” you snap.

“Okay, okay. I’m half-joking. But I’m serious when I say that I… I think you’re it for me,” Satoru mumbles. “Don’t want anyone else. Ever.”

You look up at him, your eyes glistening. “Me neither.”

You mean it. You suppose that the months without him were a lesson in patience, in self-preservation. You can’t deny that he was your missing piece despite it all, despite the hell you went through with him. 

Satoru has always held a slice of heaven – it clung to him, that divinity. You are the only thing that keeps him from dimming.

[humanpurposes]

Ettore / waking up to their partner giving them oral on a fine Christmas morning / smut where Ettore and reader have been sneaking around to bone, he often just grabs her and has his way with her, so to cheer him up on what would otherwise be a depressing Christmas on the ship she surprises him with a bj 💕

Desperate

Ettore x reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, blowjob, dub-con, tw: Ettore

A/n: ayy my first time writing for this freak :)

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

It started in the showers.

Ettore had been staring at you for weeks, just as he had every other girl on the ship, but where Boyse would scream at him and Mink would shove him away, you’d stare back. You couldn’t help it.

He’s younger than the other men on the ship, perhaps the youngest, which makes you all the more curious as to what he’s been sentenced for. You guess it might be something to do with the way he stares, the way he stalks around the ship like an animal, keeping his chin down like he’s trying to be less conspicuous. He’s not hard to miss, tall and slender, with three matching tattoos, one on each arm, the other on his neck underneath his jaw.

It was late in the night cycle, soft snores coming from the other bunks in your room. Moments of privacy were rare so you’d made a habit of seeking solitude under running warm water when the rest of the ship was asleep. Or they should have been. 

You were standing in the doorway of your dorm when you spotted him, lingering in front of the shower room. It was too dark to see if he was smirking or not but the nervous feeling fluttering in your stomach told you he was. You were frozen to the spot, towel clutched under your arm, shoes off and feet bare against the cold floor. You knew the most intelligent thing to do would be to go back to your bunk…

But curiosity got the better of you. It keeps getting the better of you.

There’s not much to be excited about in a place like this. The days come and go with the alternating harsh white and the dull blue of the daylight cycle. From the few viewpoints on the ship there are no days to see, only night, only the void of deep space, and you wonder what the point is in pretending like the twenty-four hour cycle of Earth matters all the way out here. Months tick by on a calendar. Seasons and holidays become a distant memory. It all drives you insane, the dull colours of the walls, floors and ceilings, wearing the same red uniforms, eating the same tasteless food, the constant hum of the ship’s engines.

But there are ways to distract yourself. You tried the Box at first, but once you were finished using it you’d go back to your bunk and dream of heat and breath, real human hands on your body, skin on skin.

Intimacy between inmates is strictly forbidden on Dibs’ orders. She says it interferes with her ‘research’ and would distract you all from your tasks at hand, as if any of the people on this ship are here for scientific purposes. You think she likes it, having control over all the inmates like this, calling you to the lab every day, one by one. She has all these different tests “to keep track of your health,” she says. It’s bullshit. She’s picking her next victim.

Maybe that’s why Ettore excites you so much. He looks at you with a hunger and a want you’ve not known since you were first incarcerated. Maybe that’s why you let him grab you that night in the showers. You had walked into a room filled with billowing steam, the silhouette of his body visible through the grey. You stood right night to him, watching him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. It was like showering with a knife to your throat. His hand brushed over your hip and you flicked him away. Then he made his move. He had you by the elbows and pushed your front against the wall, thrusting his cock against your cunt until you were wet enough. It hurt at first but he showed no concern when you cried out. Once he got deep enough the pain subdued and faded into pleasure. It was quick and vulgar but it was bliss.

The showers are a good place to fuck, no cameras and no prying eyes. You find other corners of the ship, or rather Ettore does, dragging you into a storage unit or one of the abandoned labs without warning. As your trysts become more frequent he becomes somewhat more attentive, circles on your clit when he fucks you, his hands and lips and tongue on your breasts, lately he likes to prop you up, get on his knees and make you come with his fingers and his mouth.

It can’t be affection, whatever it is you feel for him. There’s no use for that on a suicide mission in deep space. You exchange pointed looks in passing or feel the occasional hand on your back. Sometimes you even make small talk. Besides, you don’t think Ettore would be capable of it. He’s more of a primal being and sometimes you think it rubs off on you, just the need to be close to another person, to chase something that’s forbidden. 

The calendar tells you it’s December, getting close to Christmas. There’s no concept of that on the ship. You’ll never know snow again, you’ll never hear a Christmas song or taste sugar and rich cuts of roasted meat. It’s the same routine over and over and over.

On the morning of the 25th you’re on laundry duty, stripping the bunks in each dorm. You spot Ettore on all fours, shirt off, wiping the floor with a cloth. You watch the lines of his muscles tense as he works to get a scuff out, brow slightly damp with sweat. He’s already noticed you, looking between the floor and you.

Anticipation rises in your belly.

You make sure the two of you are alone first. The hallway is empty and so are the dorms while the rest of the inmates are fulfilling their duties around the ship, then they’ll gather in the mess hall for morning rations– as close to morning you can get here.

Your steps towards Ettore are slow, shoes echoing softly through the hallway. You see him pause and place the cloth down.

Once you’re standing over him he sits back on his haunches, lips parted, eyes wide.

“It’s the 25th of December,” you say.

Ettore shrugs. “So?”

“I have something for you.”

He looks skeptical. “What?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He frowns. “Are you gonna tell me then?”

“That ruins the purpose of a surprise. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t care to check your surroundings. He’s on his feet in an instant, inching closer to you, fingertips pawing at your waist through your uniform.

You brush his hand away. “Not here,” you hiss, and lead him into one of the dorms.

The lights are dim, beds stripped down to the mattress. You hear the whirr of the mechanism that closes the door as Ettore’s body presses into your back. He keeps his hips close to your backside with a wide palm over your stomach, dangerously close to the hem of your shirt.

His lips are tantalizing against the shell of your ear. “What’s this something you’ve got for me, hmm? Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

You pry yourself out of his touch and turn to face him. His eyes are dark and desperate, and he’s never one for patience when he wants something. He walks into you, backing you against the ladder of the bunks.

You reach your arm out to stop him. Something in his expression lights up at the challenge and panic surges through your chest because you know that if you don’t take your chance now, he’ll take it for you. But he stops, eyes fixed on your face as you trace down his bare torso, over the ridges of his abs, his surprisingly soft skin, the burning heat coming off him.

He shudders when your fingertips brush over his navel. A part of you is proud of yourself, tugging on the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down as you lower yourself to your knees. Ettore sighs when he realises what you intend to do, cradling the back of your head as you free his hardening cock. The sound of his breath only stirs the rising feeling in your gut, the thought of the sounds he’ll make when your lips will touch him, the way his jaw will fall open.

You can feel him pressing your head closer to the tip but you push back. You tilt your chin up and your eyes meet. 

The hum of the engines is deafening. No other living thing is within earshot in the empty room, the empty hallway and beyond that a lifeless void. There is just your heartbeat pulsing in your ears and the sound of Ettore’s impatient breaths.

He likes to be in control. He likes to press you against the wall and restrict your movement in any way he can, clasping your hands behind your back or above your head, gripping your body to use it as he pleases. He likes to scrape his teeth over your neck and you often have to tell him to stop because you can’t afford him to leave a visible mark on your body, no matter how much he wants to.

“Let me do this, for you,” you whisper.

He relents, stops pushing, but keeps his hand where it is. 

You run your tongue along the underside, feeling how he shudders when you reach the tip and tease it with small, sparse licks. 

Ettore holds onto one of the rungs on the ladder, his hips jerking like his body seeks more, but he stops himself. You glance up to see his lips pressed together and his eyes closed. You withhold a smile, deciding you like him like this, desperate.

You take him slowly into your mouth. Ordinarily he’d be the one positioning you on your knees, sliding his cock between his lips after fucking you. The taste of your own arousal would pool on your tongue, mingling with his own release when he was finished. “Take it. Swallow all of it,” because you’d be dead if Dibs discovered any consequences.

You don’t want to rush this. He’s heavy in your mouth as you inch along his length, gently pulling back and taking more with every bob of your head. 

Ettore’s sighs catch in his throat, dangerously close to groans. As demanding as he is he knows there are limits in this awful place. You never know who might hear, even through a closed door. But with every sound he makes, you want more, an infuriating pressure appearing at your clothed cunt as your hand traces down between your legs.

You hear a dark chuckle as Ettore’s fist closes in your hair. “I think you like this,” he says, pushing on your head again, bucking his hips into your mouth in a slow rhythm, “like it when I use that perfect little mouth?”

He’s upping the pace, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. You try to take it, tell yourself to breathe.

“Take it, just fucking take it,”

Your eyes are hot and stinging with tears. You look up to him in a desperate plea. The light from the hall is faint, his face scattered with shadows catching on the harsh line of his jaw, the curve of his parted lips. He looks dark, hungry.

Your hand has slipped under your uniform and your panties, circling deftly over your clit. 

“Fucking knew it,” Ettore says with a grin. 

You can only keep your mouth open and brace yourself with a hand on his thigh. The sounds are lewd and thrilling. You gather wetness with your fingertips to draw yourself closer and closer to your own release.

Suddenly Ettore pushes himself to the hilt, your nose pressing against his stomach as he comes. Within a few heartbeats your own climax washes over you. Ettore slips himself out and you try to catch your breath, limbs numb, a warmth dripping from the corners of your mouth and running down your chin. You feel like an utter mess.

Ettore wipes his thumb over your skin and lifts your gaze up to him. “You’re pretty like this.”

“Did you like the surprise, then?”

He tilts his head, a hint of playfulness in the curl of his mouth as his fingertips dig into your jaw. “Not much of a surprise, was it? I already knew you were a little slut.”

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[yelenasdiary]

Angstmas, Kate x fem reader, Kate’s seasonal depression is especially bad this holiday season due to her mom being in jail. She’s already struggling but is trying to hold it together Christmas morning until she spills some hot coco and kinda just has a meltdown. Reader is a sweetheart.

Spilt Emotions

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

Summary: Kate has a breakdown on Christmas morning & you’re there to assure her it’s all going to be okay.

Angst & Fluff

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know! | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x

Holiday Special Masterlist

A modest tree with mismatched ornaments stood in the corner of the small apartment Kate shared with you. The apartment covered with festive spirit and cheerful decorations didn’t keep Kate’s mind from reminding her this Christmas was different. Kate had always loved Christmas, being with family, the food, the way New York City lit up in all different colors, the cozy moments she spent with Lucky and the laughter she shared with friends but this year the holiday brought a chill that was colder than the snow outside.

With her mother, Eleanor, in jail and her father sadly deceased, Kate felt a hollow ache in her chest and no matter how much she tried to hide it, you noticed how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the little things that you noticed, usually Kate would spend some time on the rooftop, admiring the city lights through the falling snowflakes, or how she couldn’t keep her excitement for Christmas traditions tucked away for much longer.

 You didn’t want to push her, you respected she might need some space and hoping that with time, the joy that was buried deep inside the archer would burst and allow her to enjoy the magic of Christmas once again. 

On Christmas morning when the sun beamed through the clouds and the city was peacefully quiet, you woke up early. Kate still sleeping beside you, almost hugging the covers to block out any cold, crisp air from touching her. You smiled softly at how adorable she looked, like a child clinging to their favorite plushie. You slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the kitchen, wanting to surprise her with some hot cocoa to wake her up too. 

Soon enough, the smell of hot coco filled the air and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you placed two tiny marshmallows on top of Kate’s drink. “Katie” you whispered softly, wanting to slowly wake her. Kate stirred, groaning when she felt the slightest bit of cold air touch her. 

“I made you a hot coca baby” you added, carefully getting back into bed, sitting with your legs crossed and the two festive mugs in your hands. Kate’s eyes still heavy with sleep, peeped open for a moment before she offered a weak smile, “thanks, babe” she murmured, trying to keep her eyes open as she slowly began to sit up. “You’re welcome darling” you replied as she wrapped her hands around the mug, feeling the heat on her bare skin. 

“Merry Christmas” you added, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. As Kate turned her head to face you, her mug clipped yours, making the two drinks splash together as the liquid seeped into the bedding. 

“Shit!” Kate exclaimed, her voice in a panic as she quickly placed her mug on the bedside table. 

“Babe, it’s okay, I’ll wash the sheets today” you replied, also placing your mug on your bedside table. The weight of the past few weeks came crashing down on the Archer without a warning, her eyes filled with tears, and she kicked the covers to the end of the bed. “I can’t do this!” She snapped, her voice breaking as her tears began to fall. 

“Everything is just….its…fucked!” She added. Her heart pounding as she stood up, her feet touching the cold floor. “This isn’t how things are supposed to be!” Kate continued, pacing back and forth. 

“Baby, it’s okay, let it out” you replied softly as you watched her endlessly try to make sense of her life now. 

“I’ve been trying so hard to keep it together, I mean, it’s Christmas! I thought I would be okay by now” she sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “but every time I think about mom and everything that happened…..I just –“ she paused, finally coming to a stop as she looked at you. Without a second thought, you stood up and wandered over to her, wrapping your arms around her as she crashed into you. 

“It’s okay Kate, you miss her and that’s more than okay” you said, rubbing your hand up and down her back. “You don’t have to keep anything built up darling, this is your first Christmas without her and it’s been a big year for you” you added. 

“I just…I miss her so much” she sobbed into your shoulder, “I just wanted to a normal Christmas like we always did but it feels like everything is falling apart instead” she added. You held her tighter as she cried, feeling your heart ache for her. “I know it’s not the same but why don’t we go visit her today?” You suggested. 

Kate pulled back, looking at you with her wet, red eyes, “you’d be okay with that?” She asked. 

“Of course, baby, she’s your mother. I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with any of this by yourself. I will always be here, forever” 

Kate leaned back into your arms, feeling the warmth of your body against her as she took a shaky breath, “I would like that” she replied. “I know what she did will never be okay…but I miss her” she added. 

“I know, love” you replied softly.

Gradually, Kate’s sobs became quiet, her heart still heavy from weeks of pushing her feelings down but she stayed hugging you tightly. The spilt coca now completely forgotten about while you continued to rub her back, “I love you” she whispered, her voice still shaky but stronger than moments before. 

“I love you too” you replied, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re so much stronger than you realize, you know?” You added as she pulled back once more. Gently, you cupped her face, wiping her fallen tears, “I want you to remember that you can always count on me, I don’t want you feel like you have to be strong and put together for my sake, okay?” 

Kate nodded lightly, “I’m sorry” she said in an almost whisper. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about Katherine” you assured her. Kate playfully rolled her eyes, “don’t call me that, it’s odd” she said with a light chuckle. 

“But it brought back that beautiful smile so I’m not sorry about it this time” you smiled softly before kissing her deeply. The holiday may not be the fairy tale Kate was hoping for but she knew that with you by her side, a different Christmas tradition wouldn’t be as hard as she thought. 

“Can I make us a fresh hot coca?” She asked as you kindly brushed a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear, “you make the coca and I’ll strip the bed” you smiled softly. 

With that Kate, with Lucky following close behind her, wandered into the kitchen feeling okay about the holidays as a soft smile tugged at her lips.

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[cjsoleil]

You Make This Christmas Red and White (Seungmin X reader)

Summary: This is Seungmin’s first Christmas with his girlfriend, as well as her first Christmas in Korea. Seungmin intends to make her feel at home.

A/N: Reader is French because why not. Happy holidays to you all!

Winter in Seoul is pretty unpredictable, sometimes it’s absolutely freezing and other times, it’s simply slightly cooler than a November afternoon. It hasn’t snowed much during this December though. This, Seungmin believes, is causing his girlfriend to go through a little bit of seasonal depression. Y/N loves the winter and everything that comes with it. Snow, the cold, hot drinks, playing outside, and of course, Christmas. Being from Canada, winter at Y/N’s home is different than in Seoul, so Seungmin is sure the homesickness is getting to her. It’s the first time she has ever spent Christmas in Korea, as well as spending their first Christmas together. So Seungmin fully intends on making this perfect.

So he starts by making sugar cookies. He even bought those Christmas cookie cutters, so he has reindeer and snowflake shaped cookies. He tops them off with red and white sprinkles before putting them in the oven. Y/N isn’t at his apartment yet, so he’s hoping to surprise her when she gets back from her stroll. She’s been staying with him during the break since the universities are closed. As he waits for the cookies to bake, his phone rings, but it’s just Felix. Seungmin quickly clicks accept and speaks before Felix can.

“Can’t talk right now Felix.”

“What? Okay, why not?”

“I’m baking cookies.” Felix scoffs on the other line.

“I’m not there Seungmin, we have to be together to ruin our baked goods.”

“Can’t risk it. I’ll call you back.” Seungmin hangs up the phone as the door to his apartment opens. He looks over and is greeted with the sight of his girl, wearing a light coat.

“Hey.” Y/N says as she takes off her shoes and coat. She sniffs, before smiling, “Ah, what are you making?”

“Close your eyes.” Seungmin demands when she gets into the kitchen. Once she does so, he grabs a reindeer shaped cookie from the cooling rack, and brings it to her parted mouth. Y/N takes a bite and instantly tastes sugar. Opening her eyes, she swallows before smiling.

“You made me cookies.”

“I did.”

“And they’re good, so Felix hasn’t dropped by.” Y/N snickers and takes the rest of the cookie from Seungmin’s hand, “So what brings this at-“ she looks at the clock on the microwave, “Nine in the morning. Not that I don’t appreciate it.” The boy hums and leans against the counter.

“I don’t think you appreciate my efforts, you haven’t thanked me.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N steps close to him and kisses him gently.

“Thank you my oh so kind Seungmin, Mon Cheri.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“I have a plan for us today.”

“Oh?” Y/N rests her arms on his shoulders, “What is it?” Seungmin grins and pushes her away.

“A surprise.” He tells her, and uses a dish towel to take the last tray of cookies out of the oven, “We’ll head out soon. How was your walk?”

“Good, it’s pretty nice out. Kinda cloudy. I was going to get a hot chocolate but the cafe was closed.”

“Hm, I’ll get you one later.”

“Aw, you're such a sweetheart.” Y/N pats Seungmin’s face and squishes his cheeks. His lips purse and he pushes her away, “You know what I want though? Candy cane hot chocolate. That and peppermint mocha are two of the best things about the season.”

“Are those not the same thing?”

“How many times have we had this conversation?”

“I’m still confused about the difference between candy cane and peppermint hot chocolate.”

“Candy cane is better.” Y/N grabs another cookie, “You sure you can’t tell me where we’re going?”

“No.”

—————

Soon enough, Seungmin and Y/N are in Seungmin’s car heading north. One of Seungmin’s hands rests on her thigh and the other is on the steering wheel. The heating is on high and Seungmin is wearing a sweater that Y/N bought him. It’s forest green with a picture of Pochaco in the corner. Both of their jackets are on the backseats.

“How long is this going to take?”

“A bit more than an hour.”

“So far!” Y/N laughs and holds onto Seungmin’s hand, “Where are you taking me away to?”

“Not telling. Be patient, love.” He lifts their joint hands and kisses the back of Y/N’s.

“Fine. So, is there anything you want for Christmas? Not saying I haven’t got you anything, but is there anything specific?”

“No.” Y/N frowns. Seungmin hasn’t given her one idea of what to get him. It’s not like shopping for him is that hard, but she would still appreciate any help.

“Are you sure?” Seungmin glances at the girl before smiling.

“Yes. All I want for Christmas is you~” he sings along to the song on the radio. Y/N gives him a fake little smile that he can’t even see.

“Cute. Did you get your parents a present?”

“Yes.”

“And Chan? Minho? Jeongin?”

“Yes, you don’t have to manage me. I know how Christmas works.” They sit in silence for a few moments.

“…Did you get your sister a gift?”

“Fuck.” He stops at a red light and looks at Y/N giving her a sweet look, “jagiya-“

“Not happening.”

“It’s not necessary nor expected for you to get my family any presents.” Seungmin complains.

“Your family is letting me barge in during the holidays, of course I’m bringing them presents.”

“Stop saying that as if you aren’t welcomed. You know we’re all happy to have you.” Y/N squeezes his hand.

“How sweet. Answer is still no.” Seungmin groans, “We’ll order something later.”

“Fine.” A vibration comes from the cup holder between them and Y/N grabs Seungmin’s phone.

“It’s Chan.”

“Ignore it.” Y/N looks at the boy confused.

“Why? Are you mad at him?”

“No, but I don’t want to talk to him right now. I’ll text him when we get drinks.”

“I can let him know.”

“Yeah. Text him on your phone though.” Y/N puts his phone back in the cup holder and grabs her own.

“Are you hiding something from me?”

“Yes.” Y/N blinks a few times at Seungmin before shrugging.

“Okay then.”

The nice thing about car rides with Seungmin, is that they don’t feel that long. The longest drive they’ve ever been on together was three hours, and it felt like nothing. Even when they simply listen to music, without exchanging a single word, the time spent together is enjoyable. Y/N insists that it’s something about Seungmin, though he says she’s just easy to please.

“Look at that Min, it’s snowing! It hasn’t snowed this much back in Seoul.”

“No.” Seungmin says, “It always snows more once you get further North.”

“You know when I was younger, my siblings and I would fill buckets of snow and dump it on whoever slept in that day.” Y/N sighs, “Good times.”

“You must have been an insufferable kid.”

“Seungmin!”

“I’m joking!” He laughs and Y/N shakes her head at how cruel her boyfriend is.

“You’re so mean.”

“I’m funny.”

“With you there’s no difference.” Y/N rolls her eyes before continuing, “We always got harsh snowfall in Quebec, hence the festival. That’s in February though. My family would always drive down to go visit it, it probably boost my tolerance of the cold.”

“I thought you were from Quebec?”

“The province, Mon amour. But I’m not from the city of Quebec.”

“Is it much colder there?”

“I must say yes.”

“Sounds like hell.”

“Only if it froze over.”

Seungmin soon parked at a free parking space he found, which Y/N praised him for.

“Okay so we’re here… but what is here? I’m still confused.”

“You usually are.” Y/N reaches over and pinches Seungmin’s ear.

“Ow! Sorry, sorry, sorry jagi.” Y/N let’s go and Seungmin rubs his ear, “I’ll show you what’s here.” He tells her, and reaches to the back seat and grabs his coat, putting it on. Y/N does the same. Seungmin’s coat is slightly heavier than Y/N’s. They step out of the warm car and Seungmin shivers a bit while Y/N appears unfazed at the cold wind hitting her face. Seungmin clicks the invisible button on the trunk to open it, revealing its contents.

“A sled?” A classic, wooden sled like one you would see in a old movie. Seungmin nods and gives her an excited smile. Clapping her hands together, Y/N laughs and looks at Seungmin.

“Aww, Minnie! Did you take me all the way out here to go sledding?” The boy shrugs and wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist when she pulls him in for a hug.

“It’s nothing.” He mumbles into her ear, kissing the skin. Pulling away, Y/N pats his face which has turned red because of the cold.

“One sec.” She walks over to the car and opens the back door, grabbing two pairs of gloves, her’s are fingerless though, and two hats. One is light blue with a gray pompon and the other is light pink with a white pompon. Closing the door, she puts hers on and makes her way to Seungmin. She grabs both of his cold hands and puts his gloves on, before putting the pink hat on his head. Well, actually it’s a -

“Touque Seungmin.” Y/N playfully corrects him, before tilting her head and humming softly, “Aw, mon beau homme. J’adore.” Seungmin blinks owlishly, before softly smiling.

“You look good too.” He grabs the sled and shuts the trunk, holding her hand with his free one, “Let’s go.”

The walk to a lovely hill wasn’t even far, since Seungmin has planned out the exact location and where he wanted to park yesterday. Y/N praised him for his intelligence but he only shrugged her off. So now, at the very top of the hill with a few other people around, most of them being kids, Seungmin drops the sled on the ground.

“Okay so since we’re ridding together, I’ll get on and you can go behind me.”

“Who said I’m riding behind you?” Seungmin replies, a teasing look in his eyes. Y/N is quick to retaliate.

“Me. Because I want you to.”

“Oh? But I don’t want you to become spoiled.” With complete exaggeration, Y/N looks at him with gasp.

“Me? Spoiled? My Seungmin, how could you claim such a thing? You’re so mean to me, how could I possibly be spoiled?” She pokes his chest with an accusatory tone, “I’m the one that spoils you! With my endless love and affection.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes and grabs Y/N’s hand, holding it between his own.

“Fine, you sit in front.” He leans down and pecks her cheek, whispering close to her ear, “Brat.” With a smile, the girl drags the sled closer to the edge of the hill, sitting down and patting the space behind her. Seungmin, though pretending to be a little mad, sits down. He wraps his arms around her waist. Nudging them forward with her feet, Y/N pushes them to slide down the hill, laughing as she does. Seungmin’s laughing from behind her, his arms tightening.

When they get to the bottom, the two are still crackling, and Y/N claps her hands, the sound muffled by her gloves.

“Again!” And the two spend who knows how much time climbing back up the hill just to slide back down. Then on there way back up again, Y/N notices something. She smirks to herself and once at the top, sets the sled up. She gets on it, Seungmin sits behind her, and right before she’s about to push off she hears Seungmin speak.

“Wait is that- Y/N!” She pushes them down and they move high speed, and close to the bottom they slide up a little pile of ice and fall to the ground. On impact, they tumble off the sled and onto the snow. Or into the snow.

“Why would you do that?” Seungmin tilts his head to Y/N, who’s grinning like a maniac.

“Because I can.”

“I hate that answer.” Y/N ignores him and starts to make a snow Angel, intentionally kicking Seungmin’s leg when she can.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“Sure.” Y/N stands up and helps Seungmin up with both hands.

They put the sled back in the car before they started their walk. It’s lightly snowing, and the wind isn’t very harsh.

“Come here.” Seungmin grabs Y/N’s hand and they step into a small store. They say hi to the woman at the cash register. When Seungmin finds what he was looking for, he holds them up to Y/N.

“Pick.”

“What… even are those?” In his hands are plastic scoops? But the ends are hollow outlines of different animals. One is a duck, the other is a snail.

“Just pick.” Y/N picks the duck. Seungmin pays for it at the counter and they go back outside. He goes to the pile of snow beside the sidewalk and uses the scoop to collect a pile of snow, forcing it shut before holding it up to Y/N’s open hand. He opens it, and a duck shaped snow pile drops in her hand.

“Oh my god.” Staring at the duck in amazement, her voice gets a little higher in excitement, “Aw! This is so cute! Let me try.” Seungmin gives her the tool and Y/N starts to make ducks of her own.

“This is great.”

“You leave a trail of ducks in your path.” Seungmin laughs while he watches his girl out the snow ducks on the ground, or any ledge or staircase railing they walk past.

“I know. I’m compelled to fill your apartment with them.”

“I’ll kick you out.” Y/N rolls her eyes and lightly passes her duck from hand to hand.

“You talk a big game, cheri.” Seungmin rolls his eyes and Y/N purposely starts to slow her pace so Seungmin is a little ahead of her and when she gets the opportunity, pulls his coat and shirt collar back and shoves the duck down his shirt. Seungmin yelps at the sudden cold, shaking a little to get the snow off of his skin. This makes chunks of snow fall to the ground.

“You fucking brat!” He yells, but Y/N only laughs, which soon dissolves into a gasp when Seungmin tackles her into the snow. Nobody else if around, which makes Seungmin much more dangerous without the risk of public humiliation.

“What are you-“ she shouts when Seungmin pulls back the collar of her jacket just to drop a pile of soft snow on her neck and collar bones. In retaliation for the fight that she started, Y/N throws a handful of snow into his face, taking advantage of his dazed state to flip him over.

“Okay stop!” Seungmin covers his face with his gloved hands and Y/N grins, sinking her hands in the snow beside his head, ignoring the cold surrounding her fingers.

“My my, is Kim Seungmin asking for my mercy?” Seungmin glares at her, but when she presses her cold fingers into his neck, he squirms and says,

“Okay okay, mercy.”

Smiling with her achievement, Y/N gives Seungmin a kiss on his nose before getting up, helping Seungmin up as well. He shivers as they continue to walk.

“Aw, I’m sorry Mon amour.” Y/N says in a voice that doesn’t sound sorry whatsoever. However she actually does feel a little bit bad. Seungmin’s face is all red now. Thought she quickly gets karma for that, when she slips on ice she didn’t see.

She lays there in shock, staring up at the sun when Seungmin’s head comes into view.

“Are you concussed? Say no so I can laugh at you.”

“You literally laughed when I fell down the stairs yesterday.” Seungmin lets out a giggle at the memory before grabbing Y/N’s arms, pulling her up.

“Yeah, cause it was funny.”

“You’re such a cruel man.”

“Sure, I am.” He rolls his eyes. Seungmin grabs her hand and links there fingers together, just so he can helpfully prevent another fall. On their walk, Y/N gave a little girl the snow duck maker thing since she noticed that it caught her eye. This was to Seungmin’s relief, he did not need his apartment filled with snow ducks. They visited a couple stores on their walk, and ended up buying a beautiful pottery tea set for Seungmin’s sister, which Y/N of course picked out. By that time, the two of them were starving and got hotteok from a little store.

“You know, in the motherland” Seungmin snorts, as Y/N continues, “There’s this candy they make in the snow.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to eat snow.”

“Well, yeah.”

“So if you're making candy in the snow, isn’t it basically the same thing?”

“No. And it’s not like eating snow will kill you.”

“Eat it then.” Y/N stares him straight in the eyes before crouching down and collecting a handful of soft, untouched snow. She brings the snow to her mouth and Seungmin quickly slaps it out of her hand.

“Min!”

“Are you three? Are you actually going to eat snow?”

“Well, no, I am not three. And why wouldn’t I eat the snow.”

“That’s gross.”

“It’s untouched, freshly fallen. No big deal.”

“Would you drink from a puddle if I asked?” Y/N smiles and leans into Seungmin, making him wrap his arms around her waist.

“To prove a point? Of course.” She gives him a quick kiss before laughing a bit.

“You’re so annoying.” Seungmin comments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they continue to walk, “Let’s get back to the car. It will get dark soon.”

It’s dark by the time they get home, but it’s not even that late. It just gets dark early during the winter.

“Hey.” Seungmin turns his head to look at Y/N when he parks the car, “I need you to stay back for like- 5 minutes.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” Seungmin leaves the car without another word and leaves the keys with Y/N, who, while confused, does listen and stays in the car for five minutes before leaving the car. She makes sure to lock it before going up to his apartment. She unlocks the door to notice the main lights turned off, but red and white lights illuminate the ceiling.

“What is…” Y/N turns on the lights and gets a good look at the room. On the kitchen cupboards there’s deer and penguin decorations, and she sees on the coffee table there’s a bunch of different snow globes of different colours, sizes and designs.

“Hey.” Bells ring and Y/N turns to face the sound, nearly dropping the box holding the tea set.

“Seungmin.” Y/N breathes out, at smile on her face. There is a Christmas tree, small but beautifully decorated. But it’s not the tree that brings her joy, though that’s a part, it’s what is under the tree. Perfectly wrapped presents which were definitely not done by Seungmin considering his… questionable wrapping skills. What is really the best thing though, is Seungmin, sitting cross legged in front of the tree with plaid pajamas and a giant bow on his head.

“Do you like- ow!” Seungmin is knocked to the ground, laying flat on his back with Y/N straddling his waist.

“Aw Seungmin!” Y/N coos and cups Seungmin’s face, squishing his cheeks, “What is this?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? The apartment is so pretty, who did this?”

“I got Chan, Felix and Hyunjin to decorate while we were out.” Seungmin explains with a smile, happy to see his surprise had the desired effect.

“I thought that you would like it, since you said that your parents always decorated like crazy back home and we’re not going to my parents house for some time.”

“Oh!” Y/N dramatically clenches her chest, “Mon coeur! Tu es trop mignon Seungmin, je suis malade!” Y/N rambles on in french and Seungmin only makes sense of a few words. When he decides that she’s been speaking too much, he grabs her by the chin and brings his lips to her, kissing her roughly. Y/N immediately closes her eyes and leans into it, letting Seungmin sit up with her in his lap. After a couple minutes, he pulls away completely. His face is burning red, and Y/N finds it so endearing that even after all this time she can still give that effect.

“Look at this.” Y/N smiles gently and tugs at the bow in Seungmin’s hair, “Mon amour, are you my present?”

“Yes.” Seungmin nods, a serious look on his face, “I have no other gifts for you. I spent all my money on snow globes and reindeer figurines. So you will have to settle with only me.”

“The best gift of all.” Y/N states it as if it’s a fact, leaning closer to him and whispering against his lips, “Do I get to open it now?” She closes the distance, licking Seungmin’s upper lip and kissing him gently. It soon turns rough, Seungmin kissing her frantically and grabbing at her hips and thighs. Y/N grasps at the hem of Seungmin’s top, inching the fabric upwards.

Seungmin suddenly pulls back and pushes Y/N off him, standing up and walking away as if nothing happened. Y/N sits on the floor, shocked.

“What are you-“

“You can’t unwrap me just yet jagiya.” Seungmin smirks, sitting on the couch, “It’s not Christmas.” Y/N groans and lays on her floor in defeat.

“And you say I’m the brat.”

“You’re my brat.”

[purpleaqua8]

PAC Reading: Traits of Your Next Best Friend

Each pile highlights personality traits, habits, or characteristics of your next close friend. While not all traits may apply, this person will embody at least four of the qualities listed below.

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Pile 1: Wine & Cheese

They are athletic and enjoy activities like going to the gym or doing Pilates.

A Fire sign—Aries or Leo—in their Sun, Moon, or Rising sign.

They have bold or eccentric hair, such as wild curls, colorful streaks, or an unusual style.

They are one of three siblings (possibly the oldest).

Known as the "black sheep" in their family.

They wear glasses or contacts.

Their favorite color is red or orange.

They love to accessorize with hats, headbands, scarves, or bandanas.

A fan of pumpkin spice and seasonal flavors.

They enjoy partying and have a lively social life.

They prefer wine over other drinks.

A big fan of the TV show Scandal.

They have a noticeable scar located on their chest, neck, or face (anywhere from the chest up).

Career-focused and driven in their professional life.

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Pile 2: Guacamole & Chip

They have struggled with depression and anger issues in the past and may occasionally still face these challenges.

Competitive by nature and enjoy friendly challenges.

They have a stable career and are financially responsible without being cheap.

Their favorite animal is a horse, which may have symbolic meaning to them.

Occasionally stubborn.

They are nurturing and naturally caring toward others.

They enjoy drinking Fireball whiskey.

The funny friend in the group, known for their great sense of humor.

Their favorite holidays are Christmas and their birthday.

They love the color green and may wear it often.

They are very close to their father or had a strong bond with him in the past.

They love to travel and explore new places.

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Pile 3: Pizza & Beer

They will own at least one dog and possibly an exotic pet.

They prefer hanging out at night rather than during the day.

A natural peacemaker and mediator in conflicts.

They are generous and often give to others, whether through acts of kindness or material means.

They are actively involved in volunteering and community service.

They moved frequently during their childhood or have lived in many places.

They love Harry Potter books and movies and might make butterbeer at home.

They could be a twin or the sibling of someone with a completely different personality or aesthetic.

They have a Pinterest board dedicated to planning their dream wedding.

They pretend to dislike Valentine’s Day but secretly enjoy it.

They’ve experienced a tough breakup in their past.

They have Gemini in their Sun, Moon, Rising, or Jupiter sign.

They own or are starting their own business.

Younger than you by a few years.

They prefer voice messages or talking on the phone over texting.

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