#calling him a little snow fairy YEAH...

[nakakitayumas]

NAKAKITA YUMA COLOR OF &TEAM

[lovebugism]

saw you were looking for shy!reader requests and now I'm having visions of nighttime colorful twinkly lights, snow swirling in the frigid air, frost-bitten noses and tentative glances...

what about reader getting roped into holiday caroling with the gang, including her crush, Eddie? Or some other festive outdoor activity, preferably one which allows them to subtly get closer to each other without giving away their feelings 🤭 I'm feeling those 'will we won't we' vibes tonight hehe

wow. here's me casually writing a wee drabble for someone who's written some of my favorite works on this app lol. hope you like it angel :D !! — eddie keeps shy!you company during a holiday party at the wheeler house (friends to lovers, fluff | 0.9k)

The weirdo has a soft spot for the princess.

The Princess, he calls you, ‘cause Mike once convinced you to sub in on a D&D campaign some months ago now. You were a rebellious fairy from a clan of royal fae sent to guide the rag-tag troop through an enchanted, labyrinthine forest. 

You had dressed the part, too, despite having zero knowledge of the game itself. You waltzed into the Hellfire room in a flouncy pink dress, iridescent fairy wings from last halloween, and a crown of artificial flowers.

Eddie remembers you that way, still. A sweet and timid thing, with a big heart and a pretty laugh. Even now, as you sit all alone in the Wheeler’s backyard, away from all the chaos and the twinkling lights, bathed beneath a glowing pink sky and sparkling snow — you’re still such an ethereal thing. A heavenly being, flung from space.

He weaves through the quaint party and over to you, carrying a steaming cup of cocoa in one hand and his bleeding heart in the other. 

“How’s it going over here?” Eddie asks over the soft holiday music playing closer to the crowd.

You blink up at him with wide, glassy eyes, as though he’s just jolted you out of some sort of daze. “Oh. Yeah. Fine,” you stammer finally, smile wavering when Eddie’s lopsided grin makes you forget how to breathe. 

You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders with cold and clammy hands. Hiding feels instinctual to you now.

“Freezing to death?” the boy quips and fights to keep his own teeth from chattering.

The sight of him before you, with snowflakes clinging to his curls and his pale skin softly flushed with wintertime, makes you smile more sincerely than you mean to.

“Something like that,” you nod.

Eddie extends a ringed hand towards you then, offering the paper cup of hot chocolate keeping his aching fingers warm. “Want some?”

“Oh, no— It’s okay,” you decline with a polite shake of your head while your chest blazes with misplaced embarrassment. “I— I can get my own.”

“Well, between us, I didn’t really want it in the first place,” Eddie confesses lowly, taking another step closer until you can smell the deep musk of his cologne. You tilt your chin to follow his gaze. “Little Holly offered me a cup, and I didn’t know how to say no.”

The thought of Eddie Munson, in all his daunting black and silver, having a sweet spot for the youngest Wheeler (whom he exclusively refers to as Little Holly) makes your chest go all warm. 

Holly has her own innocent affections for him, too — you know for a fact she’s got an obsession with his bat tattoo that’s driving Ted insane.

You duck your head in a feeble attempt to hide your smile. Eddie sees it anyway, though, and smiles at your smiling, perhaps wider than he realizes. 

You take the cocoa from him with gentle, trembling hands. His heart skips a beat when your fingers brush over the back of his own. Yours stops entirely when he sits down on the bench beside you — not unwelcome, of course, but more wanted next to you than you’d ever be willing to admit out loud.

Eddie hisses through his teeth and tenses beside you through a shiver. You watch him stick his pale hands in the pocket of his thin leather jacket, which he wears in spite of the inclement weather.

“Are you sure you don’t want another jacket?” you wonder sheepishly, peering at the boy through the corner of your eye.

“I’m good, princess,” he insists with a shake of his head, just before his glowing nose sniffles. “I’m a rockstar, remember? Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“Really?” you hum, quiet and sarcastic.

“Yeah. Freezing to death is, like, the least metal thing ever. It’s like, you know, using an umbrella when it’s raining— It just makes you ten times less cool.”

You shift on the creaking bench and smile at your cup of cocoa. “Well, me and the ladybug umbrella I’ve had since I was nine respectfully disagree,” you joke in shy murmurs, still so meek in humor.

Eddie laughs. You feel him trembling with it beside you from where his shoulder’s pressed against yours. You see his teeth chattering just before he lifts his hands over his mouth, breathing hard into his palms in a desperate attempt to warm them.

Your hands ache with the sudden urge to cover him up. They tremble with uncertainty when you drag the borrowed blanket from your left shoulder to drape the excess along his back. Eddie peers at you with a chocolate button-eyed look as you shift closer into him, made warm and alive by your proximity alone. He’s grateful for the act of kindness, still.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, gaze averted and cheeks pink. You’d almost think he was shy.

“Don’t mention it,” you murmur back and mean it.

“You know…” the boy lilts, nicotine-spearmint breath fanning warm across your cheek. You can hear the smile in his voice without ever even looking at him. “If you just wanted to be close to me, you coulda just said.”

You flash him a stern look from beneath your lashes, which still manages to look just as soft as the rest of you. You try not to think about how close he is to you now — close enough to make out every distinct shape of the snowflakes sticking to his wild hair.

“Don’t make it weird,” you plea through a deadpan.

“That’s a lot to ask of the local weirdo,” Eddie scoffs. “I mean, it’s kinda in the name, princess.”

“Sorry for not wanting you to freeze to death.”

Eddie meets your narrowed eyes with a crooked, pink grin dripping with mischief. 

“I like you, too, princess,” he croons quietly.

Your chest pinches. You have to remind yourself to breathe. “I didn’t say that,” you shake your head and turn away, looking back to the crowd mingling beneath falling snow and fairy lights. You don’t know why Eddie would want to be here with you, instead of over there with them. 

Eddie doesn’t know how he could want a single other thing than to be here with you.

“Didn’t have to,” you hear him say as he pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulder and shuffles closer into you. For warmth, you tell yourself. For warmth and not a damn thing else.

[eunandonly]

( 양정원 ) ⸻ 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ! ⟡

IN WHICH ⸻ jungwon gives you a little christmas surprise

( pairing ) ❜ jungwon x f!r 1092wc + fluff, christmas, angst if you squint contains ! kissing, skinship, swearing / archive

"are you really not going to be here for the christmas?" you ask as you talk to jungwon on the phone. you're sitting by the armchair near the window, staring at the snow pile up outside as the fireplace cracks near you. "sorry princess," jungwon said on the other end of the line. "maybe next year."

you can't help but let out a sigh, looking longingly at the winter wonderland outside. "i was so excited to have you over so we can build a snowman and have some time together. it snowed here, you know." jungwon left town last year for university leaving you behind, and despite what you've been telling yourself, you miss him. a lot.

you had been counting down to christmas all year, the days marked not with numbers but with quiet, vivid imaginings. you’d pictured you and jungwon sitting together wrapped in a soft blanket in the living room, surrounded by fairy lights whilst sipping on hot chocolate. a day spent outside building a snowman, recording the chaotic process with your ancient camcorder. jungwon is all you want for christmas, but it’s already christmas eve now, and jungwon isn’t here.

"gosh, i miss you so much wonnie," you say, pouting. "can't believe i'm left behind in this stupid boring town whilst you're in the city. there's nothing to do here- more sheeps than humans, i swear."

jungwon's laugh makes you smile despite your sadness.

"i miss you so much as well. i've got to go now, y/n. i promise i'll see you soon, okay?"

you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair frustrated. "yeah, when is soon, jungwon? when is soon-"

jungwon ends the call, the line disconnecting with a little beep. you stare down at your dark screen in disbelief before letting out a huff.

asshole.

you wonder for a split second whether he's not coming back because he's not interested anymore. perhaps he found a prettier, smarter, nicer girl in university whom he's going to spend time with for christmas.

no, jungwon won't do that. he loves you.

right?

but if he did, would he really not come back for christmas without a proper explanation as to why?

and the way he ended the call with you so abruptly- maybe another girl was with him, holding his hand as he called you.

you throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, shaking your head.

"no, jungwon won't do that. he loves me." you say to yourself, saying it out loud as if it'll help convince you.

but can you really blame jungwon if he's found someone else? you aren't that pretty, and you don't even go to university with him.

amid your worries, there’s a knock on the door.

it’s soft, almost hesitant, but it breaks through the stillness like the first note of a song. your brows furrow.

you get up from the armchair, wondering who it is. it's definitely not the delivery man- you haven't ordered anything recently. a friend, maybe? no, they're all away, some of them to the city, some to the beach and some to warmer countries to flee from the biting cold of december.

so who is it?

"coming!" you call out, walking over to the door. you take in a deep breath, bracing yourself for the gust of icy cold air that's sure to blow in if you open the door.

you turn the door knob, immediately met with the cold wind and blizzard. and then you see him.

jungwon.

his cheeks are flushed pink from the cold, his dark hair peeking out of his knit beanie. he stands there, bundled in a thick coat, a dust of snow covering him and a small, gold wrapped box in his hands. he looks impossibly perfect against the pale winter backdrop, his smile soft, a little shy, but warm enough to melt away all your doubts and worries and frost in an instant.

“umm, merry christmas,” he says, his voice gentle and soft.

you stare for a moment or two, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and relief, before stepping forward and throwing your arms around him. jungwon’s laugh is muffled against your shoulder as he lifts up from the ground to swing you to and fro like a little kid before putting you back down.

“you’re here,” you whispered. “i thought you couldn’t come.”

he pulled back from the embrace justice enough to look at you properly, and he sweeps away your hair from your face. “of course i’m here,” he murmurs. “i’ve been busy with university, couldn’t even talk to you on the phone that much, but i had to come.”

you feel your cheeks grow warm. “i thought you found someone else.”

“what?”

it sounds silly now, but you continue. “i thought you found a smarter, prettier girl at uni. thought you weren’t coming for christmas because you’re spending it with her.”

jungwon just laughs now. “you think i would replace you? princess, you overthink too much. i would never go off with another girl when you’re so perfect.”

he leans down to give you a sweet little kiss on the lips, and you smile.

“alright, let’s go in now before all this blizzard and cold gets in. let’s make a snowman together, and we can watch old disney together…”

✉️ : @icyy-hoon

[delulustateofmind]

Long Distance - The Epilogue

All good things come to an end, and sometimes you earn that fairy tale wedding.

Blurb, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, End :)

TW: Slight Angst, Rude parents trope, language barriers, switch to Japanese to English. FLUFFY : HAPPY ENDING!!

WC: roughly 10k

Ever since you left—left him at the airport—you hadn’t heard from Satoru.

No texts. No calls. Not even a single notification on Discord.

You stared at the ring sitting on your desk, its once-brilliant diamond now dulled under a thin layer of dust. Beside it was the small snow globe of Tokyo he had given you, its tiny cityscape frozen in time, just like the memories of your time together.

The glow from your PC cast long shadows over the desk, and your gaze drifted to the Minecraft launcher icon on your screen. It had been months since you last logged in. You probably owed an absurd amount of rent in that small, pixelated towny server—the same server where it all began.

You wondered if Satoru still played. If he still logged in late at night, planting those ridiculous, mismatched crops he always insisted were "aesthetic" while teasing you for being too organized.

But you didn’t dare log in to check.

A month passed.

And then another.

The ring stayed where it was, untouched and unboxed. You couldn’t bring yourself to put it away. To hide it meant pretending it never happened, and pretending was something you were terrible at.

Your life went on in fragments. Work, sleep, occasional moments of laughter with friends—but nothing felt whole. It was as if a part of you had been left behind in that airport, still clinging to Satoru’s tear-streaked face as he begged you to stay.

It was late one night when the first notification came.

A faint ping echoed from your phone, breaking the silence of your room. Your heart leapt as you grabbed it, half-hoping, half-dreading.

A single message blinked on the screen:

青眼の白龍:

“Hey… are you there?”

Your breath caught. It was the first message you’d seen from him in months, and the sight of his username alone was enough to send a wave of emotions crashing over you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to say. Every possible reply felt too small, too inadequate to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

Before you could respond, another message appeared:

“Sorry. This is stupid. I just…”

“I miss you.”

The tears came before you could stop them, spilling onto your cheeks as you clutched the phone tightly.

It took you a few minutes to compose yourself before typing a reply.

“I’m here.”

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly, and his next message came through faster than you expected.

“I needed to work on some things before I could reach out.”

Your chest tightened, and you hesitated before typing again.

“Satoru, I…” You paused, deleting and rewriting the words several times before settling on, “I miss you too.”

A few days later, you finally worked up the courage to open Minecraft.

The familiar loading screen greeted you, and as you entered the server, you braced yourself for the emptiness you expected.

But when the world was rendered around you, you realized it wasn’t empty at all.

The town was still there, its quaint buildings and sprawling fields just as you remembered. And in the distance, near the little house you had built together, was a figure in familiar white leather armor, standing by a new structure you didn’t recognize.

Your heart raced as you approached.

The new building was a small chapel, simple but beautiful, with pixelated flowers lining the path to its door.

Satoru’s character turned to face yours, his usual goofy skin replaced by something more formal—a pixelated suit.

青眼の白龍:

“I made this for us.”

Your hands trembled as you typed back.

“For us?”

青眼の白龍:

“Yeah. In case you wanted to get married… here. Or in Stardew. Or Animal Crossing. Or real life. Wherever you want.”

Tears blurred your vision as you stared at the screen, the ring glinting faintly in the corner of your eye.

For the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. Like the distance between you wasn’t so insurmountable after all.

And as Satoru’s character took a clumsy bow before stepping closer, you smiled, finally typing the words you’d been too scared to say out loud.

“I’d like that.”

You stared at the Discord notification, the little pop-up hovering on your screen. An Excel spreadsheet attachment.

青眼の白龍:

“Can you hop on a call?”

In-game, his Minecraft character crouched and uncrouched repeatedly, moving closer to your own as if mirroring his real-life restlessness. You hesitated for only a moment before clicking to join the call, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the little jingle of the Discord ringtone.

“Satoru?” you said softly as the call connected.

The sound of his voice on the other end nearly undid you. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough, quieter than you remembered. “Open the sheet.”

His English sounded more stilted, more foreign than usual, the confidence you’d grown so used to stripped away. You wondered if he’d stopped practicing in your absence—no daily calls, no teasing corrections.

Your hands trembled as you opened the attachment. Rows of neatly organized text filled the screen, and as you scrolled, your breath caught.

Four apartment listings. Three job applications. And at the bottom, a house listing.

“Satoru…”

“I… ah…” He paused, searching for the right words. “How do you say… I want you to move here.”

Your chest tightened as his words hit you.

“So I took the initiative,” he continued, his voice faltering slightly. “Teaching job… teaching English. A job at my family’s hotel, assistant role… And a job at an international school.”

You scrolled further, seeing contracts already attached, pay highlighted in bold. The effort, the thought, the sheer amount of planning he’d put into this—it was overwhelming.

“I found apartments for us,” he went on, the hurt in his tone unmistakable. “My place… too big. I like being close.”

Your vision blurred with tears as you tried to focus on the spreadsheet, each carefully linked document pulling at your heart.

“I toured them,” he said softly. “Linked are photos.”

Tears spilled freely now, and you couldn’t hold back the quiet sob that escaped your lips.

“The house though,” he added, his voice quieter, tinged with something raw, “it comes with a shop at the bottom. An apartment above. I will pay for you to do whatever you want with it. Bookstore, cafe, tutoring center… you can even become a yakuza member, and I’d support you.”

You let out a watery laugh, your shoulders shaking as you wiped at your face.

“So please,” he murmured, the vulnerability in his voice breaking something inside you, “just… come to me.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of his words and the love behind them pressing down on your chest. You stared at the screen, at the tiny, crouching character that mirrored the man waiting for your answer on the other end of the call.

“I don’t deserve you,” you finally choked out, your voice trembling.

“No,” he said firmly, his tone cutting through your tears. “I don’t deserve you. But I’m trying. I will keep trying.”

You took a shaky breath, staring at the ring on your desk, the snow globe beside it, and the spreadsheet glowing on your screen. Your heart ached with how much thought and effort Satoru had put into this. It wasn’t just a plea—it was a plan, a future laid out neatly in rows and columns, each detail a reflection of how deeply he wanted you there.

But reality came crashing down as the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Satoru, I can’t just… up and leave.”

The silence on the other end of the call was deafening.

“I mean,” you stammered, tears pooling in your eyes again, “my job, my family, my life here… I can’t just drop everything and move across the world like it’s that simple.”

His soft exhale carried through the call, and when he spoke, his voice was low, careful. “I know it’s not simple. I know it’s asking a lot.”

You could almost hear the tension in his shoulders, the way he was likely running a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was trying to stay calm.

“But,” he continued, switching to Japanese, his words trembling slightly, “君がいないと、どこにいても空っぽなんだ。(Without you, no matter where I am, it feels empty.)”

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sob threatening to escape.

“Satoru,” you whispered, “it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” You trailed off, the weight of everything crashing over you. “What if I get there, and I can’t adjust? What if it’s too much? What if I make the wrong decision?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said immediately, his voice firmer now. “If it’s too much, we’ll fix it. If it’s the wrong decision, then I’ll make it right. I’ll make everything right.”

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you. “It’s not that easy.”

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” he said, switching back to English, his accent thick but steady. “I just… want to try. I want us to try. That’s all I’m asking.”

The words hung between you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the soft hum of the computer and the faint sound of him breathing on the other end of the call.

Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “You don’t have to decide now.”

Your breath hitched, and you gripped the edge of the desk tightly.

“Take time,” he continued. “Think about it. But… don’t throw it away. Don’t throw us away. Please.”

Your tears spilled over as you stared at the spreadsheet, the apartment listings, the job offers. The life he was building for you, brick by painstaking brick.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, your voice trembling.

His relief was audible, even through the call. “Okay,” he murmured, his tone softening. “That’s all I ask.”

Neither of you said anything for a long moment, the silence heavy but not unbearable.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “So much.”

“I miss you too,” you replied, playing with one of the knick knacks on your desk.

After you ended the call, you sat there for a long time, staring at the ring, the snow globe, and the spreadsheet on your screen. Your heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on your chest.

Would it be a mistake to up and leave?

The question haunted you, whispering doubts in the quiet moments when you let yourself think too much. But chances like this… chances like him don’t just happen.

Love doesn’t just happen, and people don’t love like he does—not the way Satoru does, with his boundless energy and sincerity. He had carved a space for you in his life, in his heart, and in his plans, and no matter how much you tried to reason against it, you kept coming back to the same conclusion: you wanted to try.

You spent the next week discussing it with your family. They asked questions, expressed concerns, but ultimately, they saw the way your face lit up when you talked about him. Your dad grumbled something about “city boys” but added, begrudgingly, that it was your life to live.

Occasionally, you’d talk with Satoru. He was kind enough not to bring it up, giving you the space you needed to process. Instead, your conversations drifted back to the easy familiarity you’d missed so much. You began to sleep on calls again, his soft breathing in the background lulling you into a peace you hadn’t felt in months.

And when the deadline for your teaching contract came, you didn’t sign it.

You packed up your classroom, the memories of each lesson and every student tucked away in boxes marked Fragile. Boxes that will be left at your parents. And then you stared at one last box sitting at your front door, adorned with haphazardly placed Fragile stickers and taped-over Minecraft decals.

To: My Minecraft GF

From: Your Minecraft BF

The words made you laugh despite yourself. He really was a loser when you thought about it—a ridiculously sweet, lovable loser.

You snapped a picture of the box and sent it to him, expecting he’d already be asleep given the time difference.

But your phone rang almost immediately.

“You got it!” Satoru chimed brightly, his voice so full of joy it made your heart ache. “良かったね (Good, right?)! I was kind of worried it wouldn’t get there in time.”

You hummed, lifting the box and carrying it inside your apartment. The sound of it made him pause.

“Satoru, what is this?” you asked, setting the box down carefully on the counter.

“Mmm,” he mused, his voice softening with a teasing edge, “just things you’ll need for when you move here, obviously!”

Your heart stuttered at the ease with which he said it. “You sent me a box of… necessities?”

“Yup!” he said, laughing softly. “I took the liberty of doing all the hard stuff. Moving here is めんどくさい (a hassle), you know? Paperwork, bank accounts, utilities—it’s insane. But don’t worry, I’ve got it all figured out.”

You smiled faintly, running your fingers over the tape on the box. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “You deserve the easiest move ever. I just… want it to be perfect for you.”

The emotion in his voice caught you off guard, and you blinked back the sudden sting of tears. You weren't sure when you started becoming a crybaby around him.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “you didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, his tone so earnest it made your heart swell and pound in your chest. You almost feared it would burst. “I want you to feel like this is your home too. Not just mine.”

You swallowed hard, leaning against the counter as your fingers traced the edge of the box. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Open it!” he encouraged, his excitement palpable. “I want to hear what you think!”

You laughed quietly, grabbing a knife to cut through the tape. “Alright, alright, I’m opening it.”

Inside, you found a mix of practical items and Satoru’s signature quirks: a guidebook to navigating Japanese bureaucracy, a prepaid Japanese SIM card, a set of keys on a keychain shaped like a tiny Minecraft diamond sword, and—because it was Satoru—a plush whale shark.

“I saw the whale shark and couldn’t resist,” he said sheepishly. “I thought it could keep you company on the plane.”

You laughed, holding the plush to your chest as your tears finally spilled over. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” he teased, his voice soft but confident.

You sniffled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I do.”

The line went quiet for a moment before he spoke again, switching to Japanese, his tone lower but filled with raw emotion.

“じゃあ、帰ってきて。(Then come home.)”

And so you did.

The moment you walked out of customs, the chaos of the bustling airport seemed to fade into the background. There he was, standing tall and impossible to miss, with his white hair practically glowing under the fluorescent lights. He held a hand-made sign that read “Welcome Home, My soon-to-be Wife” in messy, oversized English letters. The corners of the sign were adorned with doodles of hearts and what you thought were supposed to be doodles of the two of you, though Satoru’s artistic skills left much to be desired.

You froze, your chest tightening once again. It wasn’t just the sight of him—it was the way his bright blue eyes immediately found yours, as though he’d been scanning the crowd for no one but you. His lips stretched into a grin, so wide and boyish that it tugged at something deep in your chest.

“Y/N!” he called out, waving the sign enthusiastically and nearly hitting an unsuspecting traveler. His voice carried over the noise, his accent still heavy, but the sound of it warmed you in a way that made the past months of waiting melt away.

You wove through the crowd, your carry-on dragging behind you, until you were close enough to see the subtle flush on his cheeks and the slight tremor in his hand holding the sign. “My flight was on time, you lunatic,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Details,” he replied, his grin widening as he tossed the sign aside and pulled you into his arms.

The hug was overwhelming, his warmth engulfing you as he buried his face in your shoulder. You could feel him take a shaky breath, and his voice came out softer now, almost reverent. “会いたかった。(I missed you.)”

Your throat tightened, but you managed to whisper, “I missed you too.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His blue eyes scanned your face as if to memorize every detail, and then, with a teasing smirk, he said, “Did you cry on the plane? Thinking about me?”

You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest lightly. “Not even a little.”

“Liar,” he said with a laugh, grabbing your carry-on before slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. I’ve been waiting for hours, and I’m starving. Let’s go home.”

The car ride was quieter, the hum of the engine filling the spaces between soft words and lingering glances. Ijichi, ever the patient (forced to be) assistant, focused on the road while Satoru made himself comfortable in the backseat.

He leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder as his hand slipped into yours. His fingers toyed with yours absently, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“You tired?” you asked, glancing down at him.

“うん、ちょっとだけ。(Yeah, just a little),” he murmured, though the way he clung to you said otherwise. “Not tired—just… happy. You’re here.”

The simplicity of his words made you smile softly. You squeezed his hand, leaning your head against his. “I’m here.”

As the car wove through the streets of Tokyo and into the quieter outskirts, you felt peace as you ran your fingers through his snowy white hair to which he hummed.

When the car pulled up to the house, you couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped your lips. It wasn’t at all what you had expected. Nestled at the end of a quiet street, the traditional Japanese home stood with its sloping tiled roof and wooden lattice windows, surrounded by an overgrown garden that seemed to be fighting to reclaim the space. The setting sun cast a golden glow over it, illuminating the imperfections—the peeling paint, the worn steps leading to the entrance—but also the charm that made it feel alive.

“It’s… old,” Satoru said, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped out of the car. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of excitement and hesitation. “Needs some work. A lot of work, actually. But I thought…” He trailed off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You thought what?” you asked, stepping out and taking it all in, the scent of fresh earth and the faint buzz of cicadas filling the air.

“I thought it could be ours,” he said softly, his gaze darting away from you. “You know, something we build together. Like a project.”

Your chest tightened as you turned to him, taking in the nervous way he kept glancing at the house and then back at you. You stepped closer, slipping your hand into his. “It’s perfect,” you said, your voice steady.

The tension in his shoulders melted as he squeezed your hand, his grin breaking through. “Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah.”

He exhaled deeply, his free hand brushing through his hair. “Good. Because I might’ve, uh, skipped a step or two when I bought it. Like asking for your opinion first.”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. “That’s pretty on-brand for you.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a man of action,” he teased, his grin widening as he tugged you toward the front steps.

And he was a man of action. That much had been proven in the whirlwind of lawyer meetings, paperwork, and sleepless nights that had led to this moment. Somehow, he’d managed to cut through the red tape and jump through the countless hoops required to make you not just his wife, but also a Japanese citizen. A home-owning Japanese citizen. A future business owner.

The weight of it all pressed on your chest for a moment, the enormity of this new life making your stomach twist. But before you could spiral too deeply into your thoughts, Satoru gave your hand another tug, grounding you with the warmth of his touch.

“Come on,” he said, leading you toward the private entrance tucked beside the storefront. “Wait until you see it. You’re gonna love it.”

The apartment sat atop the shop, its entrance marked by a small, well-worn door that opened to a narrow staircase. He pulled you along with an almost childlike eagerness.

The stairs creaked as you climbed, and when you reached the top, Satoru paused, fishing out a set of keys from his pocket. He fumbled with them for a moment before pushing open the door, stepping aside to let you in first.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, his voice laced with a mix of pride and vulnerability.

As the two of you walked into the apartment, the weight of everything you were stepping into became more real. The wooden floors creaked under your feet, and the air smelled faintly of cedar and something older. The tatami mats in one room were worn but still beautiful, and the kitchen, though outdated, had a charm that made you picture quiet mornings and shared meals.

“This kitchen,” Satoru said, leaning against the doorway, “needs upgrades. Like, a lot. But I already have plans. Fancy ones. Don’t worry—I’ll handle it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ll handle it?”

“Of course,” he said, his grin widening. “I’m a very handy husband, didn’t you know?”

“Sure you are,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you ran your fingers along the wooden countertop. “It really is beautiful, Satoru. It feels like home.”

His teasing demeanor faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer. “That’s the point,” he said quietly.

But before the conversation could deepen, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, pulling it out and glancing at the screen.

“Family?” you asked gently.

He nodded, his expression shifting. “Yeah. I told them today.”

Your stomach twisted. “Do you want me to…?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. You don’t need to hear this.”

He stepped out onto the porch, his voice low at first as he spoke into the phone. But it didn’t take long for the conversation to escalate.

“お母さん、聞いて。(Mom, listen.)” His voice was firm but calm, though the tension in his shoulders was clear even through the doorway.

“結婚した？(You got married?)”

“Yes,” he said, switching briefly to English before reverting to Japanese. “僕たちはもう夫婦だ。(We’re already married.)”

“私たちに何も相談しないで？(Without consulting us at all?)”

“相談する必要なんてないでしょ。(There was no need to consult you.)”

Your heart sank as you stepped closer to the door, hearing fragments of the conversation.

“伝統を無視していい理由にはならない。(That doesn’t mean you can ignore tradition.)”

“伝統って？僕の人生を誰か他の人に決めさせることが伝統だっていうの？(Tradition? You mean letting someone else decide my life for me is tradition?)”

The silence that followed was deafening before his father’s voice broke through, lower and colder. “彼女は一体何を持っている？お金？地位？名誉？(What does she have? Money? Status? Prestige?)”

Satoru froze for a moment, his hand tightening into a fist. “彼女が持っているのは、僕を愛してくれる心だけだ。(What she has is a heart that loves me.)”

You swallowed hard as you realized how much he was standing up for you—how much this moment might cost him.

When he finally ended the call, he stepped back inside, his face flushed with frustration. He looked at you, his expression softening as he muttered, “怒ってる。(They’re angry.)”

You hesitated, wringing your hands. “私のせいで？(Because of me?)”

“違う。(No.)” He stepped closer, his hands finding yours. “これは僕が選んだことだ。君を守るのは僕の責任。(This was my choice. It’s my responsibility to protect you.)”

“But they’re your family,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

He let out a breath, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “君も僕の家族だ。(You’re my family too.)”

His blue eyes softened, and the tension in his face faded as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “心配しないで。(Don’t worry.)”

You nodded, about to speak before he interrupted.

“Now,” he said, breaking the moment with his usual grin, “let’s go figure out what’s for dinner. I’ve been married for, like, two minutes, and I already feel like I deserve a good meal.”

You laughed, swatting his arm as he pulled you further into the house. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he teased, his voice finally light again as he led you toward the kitchen.

After settling into your new home, you and Satoru decided to explore the neighborhood and find a place to eat. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of blossoming flowers as you walked hand in hand down the quaint streets. Street lights began to flicker to life, casting a warm glow that reflected in Satoru's bright blue eyes.

You stumbled upon a cozy, traditional restaurant tucked away on a quiet corner. The wooden exterior and noren curtains gave it an inviting feel. Inside, you were seated at a low table near a window overlooking a small garden. The soft murmur of conversation and the clink of dishware created an atmosphere of serene intimacy.

At dinner, Satoru was already whining about how much he desperately wanted a big wedding, his voice rising dramatically enough to draw glances from nearby tables.

“I’m just saying,” he began, his lips pouting as he leaned closer, “we deserved better than a courthouse wedding. It’s terrible how many loopholes foreigners have to go through to get here.”

His fingers laced with yours on the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

“You deserve the big cake, the beautiful dress, the embarrassing 叔父 (uncle) who drinks too much—all of it!” He hummed softly before lifting your hand to his lips, planting a tender kiss on the back of it.

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks warmed at his words, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

“First,” he continued, his expression brightening, “we’ll get that little shop of yours sorted. I’ve already talked to contractors—”

“Satoru,” you interrupted gently, glancing away from him.

He paused, tilting his head curiously as he studied your face. “Too fast?” he teased lightly, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

You hesitated, your voice quieter when you finally spoke. “We got married on a whim. What if this is just a honeymoon phase?”

Satoru had always been the type to jump head first into things. This wasn’t going to be any different for him.

His grin faltered for a split second, but then it returned, softer this time. “A honeymoon isn’t supposed to be a nightmare,” he replied, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re cruel, my wife.”

Before you could respond, he brought your hand to his lips again, this time pressing a flurry of featherlight kisses along your knuckles.

“Satoru,” you hissed, pulling your hand back slightly, “people are staring.”

“Let them stare,” he said with a wink, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as he leaned closer. “I don’t care who’s watching. You live in my thoughts, in my dreams—you’re everywhere to me.”

Your breath hitched as he sat back, his expression unusually serious. “I’ve never known love to feel like this,” he admitted, switching to Japanese as his words grew more raw. “君がいると、初めて本当に愛を知った。(With you, I’ve truly understood love for the first time.)”

You looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but he reached out, gently cupping your cheek and turning your face back toward his.

“I am so sure about this,” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a moment, the noise of the restaurant faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little world. His thumb brushed your cheek as he smiled softly, his voice dipping to a whisper.

“Trust me, Y/N. This isn’t a phase. It’s us.”

You felt your chest tighten, the doubts that had been bubbling at the edges of your mind beginning to dissolve.

“I’m just scared,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“I know,” he replied, his tone steady. “But I’ll keep proving it to you. Every day. For as long as it takes.”

And so you both had little life moments that ultimately led to your big day.

Like IKEA.

“We could have gone to a department store,” Satoru whined, stretching his impossibly long legs out as he sat cross-legged on the floor. His white hair was already sticking up from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration.

“We’re saving money,” you replied, pulling out the infamous IKEA instructions and flattening them on the floor.

“Not saving time,” he shot back with a teasing grin, leaning back on his hands as he watched you. “But if my wife wants IKEA, then my wife gets IKEA!”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your foot. “Don’t start. This was your idea too.”

“Was it?” he hummed, pretending to think. “I feel like I was tricked into this.”

Five hours later, the two of you sat in front of a half-built entertainment center. You both looked disheveled—Satoru with his sleeves pushed up, his hair a wild mess, and you with a pencil tucked behind your ear.

“This… should not have taken five hours,” you muttered, glaring at the pile of screws still sitting in the box.

Satoru groaned, resting his forehead against the edge of the unfinished piece of furniture. “We’re paying for the assembly next time.”

“I told you to follow the instructions!”

“I did follow them!” he shot back, switching to Japanese mid-rant. “でも、これめちゃくちゃだ！(But this is ridiculous!)”

He reached for another screw, cursing under his breath as it refused to cooperate. You stifled a laugh at his frustration, which only earned you a dramatic glare.

“You’re laughing now, but you’ll be crying when this thing collapses under the weight of all my consoles,” he huffed, gesturing toward the collection of vintage Nintendo systems and the PS5 sitting nearby.

“Your consoles?” you teased. “Pretty sure half of those are mine.”

He smirked, his irritation melting away as he looked at you. “Fine. Our consoles. But I’m still blaming you if this thing falls apart.”

When the entertainment center finally came together, you both sat back, exhausted but victorious.

“Not bad,” Satoru admitted, inspecting the finished product. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he leaned over and kissed your temple. “Still hate IKEA, though.”

“Me too,” you said with a laugh. “But admit it—it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? Building something together.”

He smiled, his teasing tone softening. “Yeah. It is. But we could have just built something in minecraft too.” To which he earned a slap from you.

Then there was your first argument.

It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, but it felt significant nonetheless—like a crack in the foundation you were building together. And though the language barrier between you was smaller than it had been when you first met, it still had a way of making difficult conversations even harder.

“I just don’t understand why you don’t open up!” you exclaimed, your voice bouncing off the walls of the apartment. “Some days you’re as open as a flower, and then others you shut me out completely!”

Satoru stood by the kitchen counter, his hands braced against the edge as he avoided your gaze. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened as he processed your words.

“I’ve noticed how exhausted you’ve been lately,” you continued, your voice softening slightly. “You’ve taken on the family business and you’re still teaching night classes at the university. You can’t keep going like this, Satoru.”

He muttered something in Japanese under his breath, too quiet for you to catch, before finally straightening up. His voice, when it came, was sharp and fast, the words spilling out in rapid-fire Japanese.

“君に全部を話すのは簡単じゃないんだ！家族の期待、仕事のプレッシャー、全部が僕を押し潰しそうで…(It’s not easy to tell you everything! The expectations of my family, the pressure from work—it feels like it’s crushing me!)”

“Slow down, please,” you interrupted, holding up a hand as your frustration bubbled over. “I can’t keep up when you talk that fast.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering another string of Japanese before slamming the door as he left the room.

You stared at the now-closed door, your heart pounding as anger and confusion swirled inside you. “So we’re acting like children now,” you muttered under your breath, your voice dripping with irritation.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint creak of the floorboards as you paced the living room, occasionally glancing at the shut kitchen sliding door.

It took nearly an hour before the door opened again.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, his hair disheveled and his expression guarded. He held something in his hands—one of your favorite mugs filled with tea.

“飲む？(Drink?)” he asked softly, holding it out to you. His English wavered slightly as he added, “For… peace?”

You hesitated before taking the mug, the warmth of it grounding you. “Thanks,” you muttered, glancing up at him. “Are you ready to talk now?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “ごめん。(Sorry.)”

“For what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For… yelling,” he said, his words slow and deliberate as he switched to English. “I… don’t talk about my feelings well. In Japanese or English. It’s hard.”

You nodded, sipping the tea as you waited for him to continue.

“家族の期待はすごく重い。(The expectations from my family are so heavy.)” He switched back to Japanese, his voice quieter now. “そして、自分の弱さを君に見せるのが怖い。(And I’m scared to show you my weaknesses.)”

You frowned, setting the mug down as you reached for his hand. “I’m not here to judge you, Satoru. I’m here to support you. But I can’t do that if you keep shutting me out.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his lips pressing into a thin line before he nodded slowly. “I know. I’ll… try. Really.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his hand. “That’s all I need.”

He met your gaze, his usual teasing grin returning faintly, though the hint of uncertainty in his eyes betrayed him. “So… we’re good? You still love me?”

“Depends,” you said, raising an eyebrow, crossing your arms for added effect. “Are you done slamming doors like a child?”

Satoru winced dramatically, running a hand through his messy hair. “Ouch, low blow,” he muttered in Japanese, “でも、たぶんそれは正しい。(But maybe that’s fair.)”

You raised an eyebrow further, watching as he tilted his head like he was weighing his options.

“Okay,” he said finally, his hands raised in mock surrender. “No more slamming doors. Promise.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to think it over before relenting with a small smile. “Good. Then yeah, we’re good. And I still love you. For some reason.”

He lit up at that, his grin widening into something more familiar, more Satoru. “For some reason?” he repeated, feigning offense as he leaned closer. “Excuse me? I am incredibly lovable, thank you very much.”

“Debatable,” you teased, but the warmth in your voice undercut your words.

He smirked, his teasing tone softening into something more serious as he reached out to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin as his voice dipped, switching to Japanese.

“君が怒っても、俺はいつも君を愛してるよ。(Even when you’re mad, I always love you.)”

“Then maybe don’t give me a reason to be mad next time,” you whispered, your lips twitching into a smile.

“Deal,” he said with a laugh, pulling you into his arms. “But only if you promise not to glare at me like that. It’s scary, you know.”

“Scary?” you scoffed, but your laughter was muffled as he buried his face into your shoulder, holding you tightly as if to make up for the earlier tension.

“Terrifying,” he murmured against your skin, though the smile you could feel against your shoulder told you he didn’t mind one bit.

Yet, you still had your difficult moments with him. Moments like meeting his parents.

The Gojo family estate was vast—almost intimidatingly so. It was the kind of place you’d only ever seen in dramas or movies, with sprawling gardens, traditional architecture, and the faint, soothing sound of water trickling from a nearby koi pond. The scale of it was breathtaking, but it also made you acutely aware of just how far removed this life was from your own.

“You have your own bathhouse and hot spring?” you asked, staring at the steam rising from the far end of the property.

“What? You don’t?” Satoru teased, his grin smug.

You rolled your eyes, smacking the back of his head lightly. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Careful, wife. They might be watching,” he said, glancing around dramatically.

Your stomach tightened at the reminder of why you were here. His parents. The people who had made it clear over the phone that they were less than thrilled about your marriage.

Satoru must have noticed the shift in your expression because he immediately stepped closer, his hand finding yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his teasing tone replaced with something gentler. “It’s going to be fine. They’re… difficult, but they’ll come around. Eventually.”

“And if they don’t?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“それならそれでいい。(Then that’s fine.),” he said firmly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “君は俺の家族なんだから。(You’re my family now.)”

When the two of you finally entered the main house, it felt like stepping into another world. The polished wooden floors gleamed under the soft light filtering in through the shoji screens, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air.

His mother was the first to greet you, her sharp gaze sweeping over you like a scan. She was poised and elegant, every inch the matriarch of a powerful family. Her lips curved into a polite smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“これが奥さん？(So, this is the wife?)” she said, her tone clipped but not outright hostile.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Satoru stepped in immediately, his arm slipping around your waist.

“そうです、お母さん。(That’s right, Mom.)” His grin was disarming, but his tone carried a hint of challenge.

His mother’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before she said, “少なくとも見た目は悪くないわね。(At least she doesn’t look bad.)”

Your stomach churned, but you managed to bow politely. “ありがとうございます。(Thank you.)”

She raised an eyebrow at your response but didn’t say anything further, instead turning toward Satoru.

“悟、私たちの期待を知っているはずよ。(Satoru, you should know our expectations.)”

“知ってるよ。(I know),” he replied smoothly. “でも、僕の選びに自信がある。(But I’m confident in my choice.)”

His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

Dinner was tense.

His father sat at the head of the table, his presence quieter but no less imposing. He said little, but the disapproval in his gaze was unmistakable. His mother, on the other hand, seemed determined to test you with pointed questions and subtle remarks.

“あなたは何ができるの？(What can you do?)” she asked at one point, her eyes narrowing slightly. “家族に貢献できる能力はあるの？(Do you have any abilities that can contribute to the family?)”

You opened your mouth, but Satoru cut in before you could speak.

“お母さん、そんな言い方やめて。(Mom, don’t talk like that.)” His tone was light but firm, the edges of his grin sharp.

She turned her attention to him, sighing dramatically. “悟、こんな女性を選ぶなんて、あなたらしくないわ。(Satoru, choosing a woman like this—it’s so unlike you.)”

His grin widened, though his hand tightened slightly around yours under the table. “それが僕の魅力でしょ？(That’s my charm, isn’t it?)”

Later, as you and Satoru strolled through the serene garden, the tension from dinner lingered like a faint fog in the crisp evening air. The koi pond reflected the moonlight, its ripples breaking the stillness, but your mind was far from calm.

“Well, that was… something,” you said, glancing at him as you walked side by side.

“See? Not so bad,” he replied casually, though the slight slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow. “Your mom basically said I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“And she’s wrong,” he replied immediately, his tone firm as he slipped his hand into yours. His fingers interlaced with yours as if to ground you.

You frowned, glancing at the ground. “But what if they never accept me? What if they always look at me like I don’t belong here?”

He stopped walking, gently tugging on your hand to make you stop too. When you looked up at him, his expression was soft but teasing, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. “Even if they hate you, I’ll keep you around like a little Pokémon. My little Pokémon.”

Your lips twitched as you tried to suppress a laugh. “Your little Pokémon?”

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded solemnly, leaning closer as his grin widened. “I’ll carry you around in a Pokéball if I have to. Feed you berries. Make you fight other Pokémon for me.”

You finally burst out laughing, swatting at his arm. “You’re ridiculous!”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” he said, his tone smug as he straightened up and began walking again, still holding your hand.

His humor, silly as it was, had a way of making the world feel lighter, more manageable.

“Seriously, though,” he said after a moment, his voice softening. “I don’t care what they think. You’re my wife. My partner. That’s all that matters to me.”

The sincerity in his words made your throat tighten, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Satoru. For always making me feel like I belong.”

“You do belong,” he said firmly, his grin returning. “Now, come on. Let’s see if I can find another reason for you to smack me tonight. It’s becoming my favorite sport.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you let him lead you deeper into the garden, the tension from the evening melting away with every step, maybe moving to japan wasn’t so bad.

The shop came together slowly. What started as an empty, tired space transformed into something warm and inviting, with walls freshly painted in a color you both agreed on after hours of debate and laughter. The floors, once scuffed and dull, were polished until they gleamed, and the large windows let in sunlight that danced across the room in golden patches.

Satoru was there every single day. He showed up with coffee in the mornings, his hair messy and his grin wide, and stayed until the late hours, determined to see the shop come to life. He insisted on helping with everything—painting walls, unpacking boxes, even assembling shelves, though you’d banned him from building furniture unsupervised after the IKEA incident.

“Careful with that,” you said one afternoon as he attempted to hammer a nail into the wall for a shelf.

“I am careful,” he replied, pouting slightly as he adjusted his grip. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not when it comes to tools,” you teased, earning a dramatic gasp from him.

He placed a hand over his chest, his blue eyes wide. “You wound me, my love. My dear, sweet wife, doesn't her manly husband help her?”

You threw a pencil at him that he dodged with a boyish giggle. You loved your little idiot.

The grand opening was a whirlwind of emotions. From the moment you flipped the sign to “Open,” the little bell above the door jingled nonstop as customers poured in.

Satoru was your biggest cheerleader, practically buzzing with excitement as he handed out flyers outside.

“My wife’s shop!” he announced proudly to anyone within earshot, switching between Japanese and English as he grinned from ear to ear. “She’s amazing! You have to come see it!”

Every time a customer entered, he followed them in, gesturing around the shop with exaggerated enthusiasm. “見て、全部彼女のアイデアだよ！(Look, everything was her idea!)”

You caught him once talking to a group of teenagers, pointing to a shelf. “That one? I built it. With these hands. For her,” he said, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “Pretty romantic, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at him from behind the counter, but your smile betrayed you.

That night, after the last customer had left and you’d flipped the sign to “Closed,” the two of you sat behind the counter. The shop was quiet now, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting a warm light over the space.

Satoru leaned back against the counter, watching as you counted the day’s earnings. His expression was relaxed, but his eyes were filled with pride.

“Successful first day,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You nodded, setting the stack of bills aside. “It went better than I expected.”

He leaned closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you admitted.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You could’ve, but I wouldn’t have let you. Watching you build this…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and he sighed contentedly. “I’ve never been more proud of you.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning into his touch.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything. For believing in me. For doing this all for me.”

“Always,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “I am the best husband, after all.”

And finally, the big day came.

Two years of building your life together in Japan. Two years of pushing through challenges, laughter, tears, and countless shared moments that made you stronger. And now, the day you’d dreamed of was here—your big wedding.

What you weren’t prepared for, though, was the overwhelming anxiety of it all.

The Gojo family name carried weight. As the heir, Satoru’s life was always under scrutiny, and this wedding was no exception. A small fortune had been spent on the event—no expense spared. The guest list was a who’s who of Japan’s elite, from business tycoons to celebrities, and social media buzzed with headlines like “A Cinderella Story: Gojo Heir Marries Foreigner” and “Love Beyond Borders: The Gojo Wedding”.

The sheer magnitude of it all made your hands tremble as you adjusted the flowers in your bouquet for what felt like the hundredth time. You fidgeted with your dress, smoothing the fabric and taking a deep breath as you stood at the grand doors to the altar.

Your father stood beside you, his arm steady under yours. He grunted softly, giving you a small, reassuring smile, though you could see the glint of unshed tears in his eyes.

“You ready, kid?” he asked gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, though your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest. “I think so.”

The music swelled, and the grand doors slowly creaked open.

This was it.

The sunlight streamed through the ornate stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished floor as you stepped forward. The room was a blur of faces—guests turning to watch you with awe and admiration—but none of it mattered.

Your eyes locked on Satoru.

He stood at the altar, impossibly handsome in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly. His broad shoulders were relaxed, but his hands clasped in front of him betrayed the slightest hint of nervousness.

The moment he turned to look at you, everything else melted away.

His pale blue eyes widened, the teasing sparkle you’d grown so used to replaced by something softer, something raw. His boyish grin faltered for a moment as his gaze traveled from your face to the delicate details of your dress and back again.

Then, just as you reached the halfway point, his grin returned—but softer, warmer, and tinged with vulnerability. His lips parted slightly, and you watched as he blinked rapidly, his shoulders stiffening.

Gojo Satoru, the man who could laugh through anything, was holding back tears.

You bit your lip to stop your own emotions from spilling over, focusing on your steps as you walked down the aisle. When you finally reached him, your father placed your hand in Satoru’s, his grip firm as if passing you over was the most important thing he’d ever do.

“Take care of her,” your father said quietly, his voice gruff but thick with emotion.

Satoru nodded, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “Always,” he replied softly, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

When you turned to face him fully, he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing motion.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, switching to Japanese, he added, “世界で一番きれいだ。(You’re the most beautiful in the world.)”

The ceremony was stunning—flowers perfectly arranged, sunlight filtering through the venue in golden hues, and soft murmurs from the guests creating a gentle hum of anticipation. But everything faded into the background as Satoru stepped forward, your hands in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment.

He cleared his throat, his usual confident grin replaced by something far more vulnerable. His pale blue eyes met yours, filled with emotion, and as he opened his mouth to speak, you could hear the nervous tremor in his voice.

“If I… uh…” he paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he tried again. “If I had known I was going to meet the love of my life on some… some family-friendly Minecraft server…”

He stopped, a soft chuckle escaping him as he switched to Japanese without realizing it. “本当に信じられなかった。(I really wouldn’t have believed it.)”

The crowd chuckled gently, but his gaze never wavered from yours. He switched back to English, his accent thicker than usual as he struggled through his nerves. “I… I thought life was enough. Being the best at everything. Being by myself. Accepting that there were dreams I… couldn’t reach.”

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly as he slipped back into Japanese. “そう思ってたんだけど…君と出会うまでは。(That’s what I thought… until I met you.)”

His grip on your hands tightened, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “Until I met her. My wife,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on the word. “My wife who left her hometown. My wife who… who came here to build a life with me.” He stopped, blinking rapidly as tears gathered in his eyes. “My wife who…挑戦するたびに強くなる。(Who becomes stronger with every challenge.)”

A soft sniffle escaped him, and he let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand before returning it to yours. “I can’t wait to… uh…” He faltered, switching back to Japanese as his emotions overtook him. “歳を取るのが楽しみだ。(I can’t wait to grow old together.)”

The guests leaned in, captivated, as he tried again in English, his voice raw. “To have… sick days with you. Laying in bed… with runny noses. Soup… soup warming in our kitchen.” His laugh broke through the emotion, and he sniffled again, blinking back tears.

“I can’t wait to… to have little arguments… and big ones. Ones that show how much we… we care.” His lips quirked into a wobbly smile, his eyes glistening. “I can’t wait to… to go to bed with you every night. And wake up to you every morning. With the sun shining through the window.”

He exhaled shakily, his voice softening as he continued in Japanese, the words spilling out like a confession. “君に似た���供が欲しいな。(I hope our children look like you.)”

You heard the crowd gasp softly, their emotion mirroring his as he continued, his voice thick with tears. “I can’t wait to live the rest of my days with you. 君だけだ。(You’re my one and only.)”

You couldn’t stop your own tears now, your heart aching with how much love and vulnerability he poured into every word. Something that was so unlike him.

He hesitated, his voice a trembling whisper as he leaned forward just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Are you… ready for forever?”

You nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered back, “Ready.”

The officiant’s voice was a blur, the moment surreal as Satoru finally leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender, so full of emotion, it felt like the world itself paused.

The applause, the cheers, the tears of the guests—all of it faded into the background.

And with that. You had landed your fairy tale ending.

A/n: I tried to really showcase domestic bliss but also the challenges of a new relationship and the challenges of moving in after a long distance. I cut out A LOT, this series rots my brain. I could continue it for ages, but I fear that all good things must come to an end to stay good, and I'd like to work on some other characters. Thank you all for taking the time to read the fic and leave such nice comments. Truly had been a wonderful journey.

Some more thoughts nobody asked for, but it's information that I feel like needs to be elaborated.

Who fell first?

Reader...but Satoru fell extremely hard. It was when he ended the call that he had to do math problems just to keep him from texting you. He didn't realize it at first though.

Do they have kids?

Yes! 2-3 actually, Gojo family ends up coming around to the reader after everything. Especially when the kids are born. The mother becomes a bit softer. Though Satoru doesn't trust them with overnight babysitting, he leaves Suguru or Nanami for that. Gojo does end up leaving teaching, but when his kids get older, he does go and do experimental demos in their classes. 100% takes fewer business trips. If they're longer, he tries to make them a family vacation. Unfortunately, he does his best to give his kids a normal childhood, but with the family name, they do have to go to private school.

Why no smut:

Was originally going to be yandere, but I wanted something fluffy to work on. This is why I didn't include smut. However, I imagined the reader having no experience, so when things did come down to it. Satoru was very gentle and reassuring the whole time, so much that she slapped him for it after he said, "Is this okay?" For the hundredth time.

Again, thank you all for reading. 🩷

[mylifesjustacarousel]

my little snow fairy

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: hook thinks your powers are very “princess-y” but his mind changes when he sees what you can truly do

type: fluff, a little angst

CW: bullying

WC: 1K

requests are open! <3

“I’m just saying, lass, they’re cool and all, but they’re a little fairy princess-y,” Hook teased, sitting down on your bed next to you, “like my own little snow fairy.” You raised a brow, leaning close to him, “First of all, don’t call me lass, I’m your girlfriend. Second of all, fairy princess-y? I could turn you into an ice statue just like that, baby.”

You had the power of manipulating water and ice, which was really cool once you had actually learned how to control your powers… there were too many instances of you causing a rainstorm above somebody’s head when they upset you. But, since attending Merlin Academy, you had gotten your powers under wraps. Now, you caused rainstorms above people’s heads just because you felt like it.

“Oh yeah, darling? I don’t think you could,” he giggled, pressing a kiss to your cheek before getting up.

You snapped your fingers, and a storm cloud quickly formed over his head. Within seconds, he was absolutely drenched from head to toe in ice cold water. He turned to face you, an angry but defeated look on his face.

“Okay, I guess that I deserved that… can you put it out now?”

Snapping your fingers again, the storm cloud quickly dissipated. You got up, running your fingers through his sopping wet hair, “Yeah, you did deserve it. But, I love you anyways.” Hook rolled his eyes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into a tight embrace, getting your front soaked.

“James Hook! Let go of me! Right now!” you whined, trying to push yourself away from him.

“Never! You did this to yourself!” Hook leaned his head down, burying his wet hair in the crook of your neck. You groaned, gently smacking the back of his head, “You are so annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love you too, my princess. To the end of the seas and back.”

You were sat in Uliana’s lair with Hook, your head in his lap as he played with your hair. You hated Uliana, she was vile beyond compare. But you stuck around for James. “I just don’t understand why you still hang around her. I get hanging out with Mali and the rest of them… but Uliana?” you mumbled, looking up at him.

Hook sighed, “This is the first real group of friends that I’ve ever had, y/n, I-”

He was interrupted when Uliana stomped into the lair, the rest of the VKs following behind her. “I will ruin her life!” she screamed, “I am so sick of that pretty pink princess!”

You rolled your eyes. Bridget. Bridget was one of the most, if not THE most, sweetest people alive. She did nothing but spread love and positivity, which Uliana couldn’t stand. You loved Bridget, she was one of the first people you met when you first came to Merlin Academy. Which was a big factor in why you hated Uliana, because who could hate Bridget?

“I mean, who does she think she is? Thinking that bribing people with treats will make people like her? Ugh!” The group snickered with her. They did anything to make Uliana happy. You sighed, sitting up, “Did Bridget strike a nerve there, Uliana?”

She snapped her head around to look in your direction, her face showing nothing but pure disgust. Uliana wasn’t too fond of you either. “No one invited you here, princess. Don’t you have plants to be watering or something?” She spat, looking around at the group behind her for approval.

“Ooh, someone’s a little jealous. Are you upset that people like Bridget, or are you upset that no one likes you?” you stood up, walking over to her. Uliana sneered, “You’re messing with the wrong sea witch, girl. You don’t belong here, or anywhere.”

“Knock it off, Uli.” Hook stood up. “This does not involve you, Hook. But, if we’re going to involve you, I guess we can talk about how I don’t even know why you’re here anymore. You’re a softie, you’re weak. You let her change you, I told you that she was bad news.”

“You don’t get to talk to him like that!” you snapped, “He’s not cold and heartless like you, I’m sorry if that offends you so.” One of her tentacles shot out, wrapping around you and squeezing tight like a boa constrictor.

“You are nothing, princess. People wouldn’t even know who you were if it weren’t for us. You should be thanking me for even letting you be in my presence, for not making your life miserable,” she squeezed you tighter, “I’m y/n, and I act like a big bad ice witch when I’m really just a scared little princess!”

As Uliana went on, storm clouds started to form above. It didn’t happen often anymore, but your powers sometimes became uncontrollable when feeling overwhelming emotions. It started pouring, everyone inside getting soaked.

“You think a little rain is gonna scare me?” she mocked, “Bring it on, princess!”

You slithered a hand out of the grasp of her slimy tentacle, your hand turning ice cold as you wrapped it around the sucker covered appendage. “If anyone here is nothing, it’s you,” you mumbled, “I hope you enjoy the cold.”

Ice shot down her tentacle, freezing Uliana in her place within seconds. You slipped out of her grip, looking at the ice sculpture in front of you. You’d unfreeze her eventually… just not yet. The rain slowly came to a stop as you calmed down and you turned around, looking for Hook.

Hook was stood behind you, his jaw dropped. “I did not know that you could do that… that was pretty hot.”

You went over to him, “I didn’t really know that I could do that either. I’ll unfreeze her in a bit, but I think a little bit of the cold is good for the soul.”

Hook’s arms wrapped around your waist, his lips pressing a kiss to your temple, “You know that she’s never going to leave you alone now, right?”

“I know, but if there’s anyone that I’m not afraid of, it’s her.”

“That’s my girl.”

a/n: sorry for not uploading for a bit, i just recently went back to work! but i hope you enjoyed!!

[charlesslut16]

-christmas market-

summary : you and your husband sebastian are visiting the christmas market with your two kids

PAIRINGS : husband!sebastian vettel x wife!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I hope that you like it.... Love you guys more than anything

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crisp December air nipped at your nose as you stepped into the bustling Christmas market, Sebastian’s hand warm in yours. Twinkling fairy lights crisscrossed the square, casting a golden glow on the cobblestone paths dusted lightly with snow. 

Stalls lined the edges, their wooden frames adorned with evergreen garlands and red ribbons. The smell of roasting chestnuts mingled with the sweet scent of mulled wine, making everything feel like a postcard brought to life.

“Papa, look!” Leo’s voice cut through the loud chatter and songs. Your son’s blond hair poked out from under his knit hat as he pointed excitedly to a stall selling candied apples. “Can we get some?”

Sebastian laughed, his voice warm and happy. “We just got here, Leo. Let’s explore a little first, hmm?”

Leo made a face but quickly shrugged it off, distracted by another nearby stall. His little sister, Sophie, clung to his hand, her small feet skipping to keep up. She was quieter than her brother, her wide eyes darting between the lights and the crowds, taking everything in with the awe only a child could manage.

Sebastian squeezed your hand, pulling you a little closer. “Think they’ll ever run out of energy?”

You smiled, leaning into him. “Not a chance. Especially not here.”

The four of you strolled through the market, stopping here and there to admire handmade ornaments or tiny figures carved into snowmen and angels. At a stall selling steaming mugs of hot chocolate, Sophie tugged on your coat.

“Mama,” she said softly, her rosy cheeks glowing in the light of the nearby lantern. “Can I have one?”

“Hot chocolate already?” Sebastian teased, crouching to meet her at eye level. “We haven’t even found the crêpes yet.”

Sophie pouted, her big eyes melting him instantly. “Please?”

He laughed, standing back up and turning to you with a knowing smile. “She’s good. She’s wonderful.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “She gets it from you.”

Two cups of hot chocolate later, one for Sophie and one for Leo, whose enthusiasm for whipped cream resulted in a drop on his nose—you found yourselves at a crêpe stand. 

The line was long, but the smell was irresistible: butter sizzling on hot pans, mingling with the sweetness of melted chocolate and caramel, It was as if it called for you all.

Sebastian ordered two crêpes, one filled with Nutella for Leo and one with strawberries and whipped cream for Sophie. The kids sat on a bench nearby, happily devouring their treats, while you and Sebastian shared a quiet moment to yourselves. You watched them, their cheeks flushed from the cold, their laughter light and carefree.

“This is what it’s all about,” Sebastian said softly, his arm brushing against yours. “Forget the gifts, the stress, all of it. Just… this.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling at the contentment in his eyes. “Yeah,” you said, your voice matching his quiet tone. “Just this.”

A little while later, Leo spotted the ice rink at the far end of the market. The strings of lights above it twinkled like stars, reflecting off the smooth surface of the ice. Families and couples glided across it, their laughter mingling with the faint strains of carols from a nearby choir.

“Can we go, Papa? Please?” Leo begged, his excitement spilling over.

Sebastian glanced at you, his eyes dancing. “What do you think?”

You smiled. “I think we’ll be here for hours if we say yes.”

Sebastian turned back to Leo and Sophie. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The kids squealed with delight, their hands already reaching for yours and Sebastian’s as you led them toward the rental booth. Once their skates were on—Leo’s slightly too loose until Sebastian retied them with his practiced hands—they shuffled toward the rink.

“Careful, Sophie,” you called as your daughter wobbled on the edge. Her skates clinked against the ice, her tiny legs moving tentatively.

“I’m okay!” she called back, though her grip on the wall suggested otherwise.

Leo, on the other hand, dove straight in, his confidence outweighing his actual ability. His arms flailed as he tried to stay upright, but he was laughing the entire time. “Papa, look!” he shouted, waving before nearly toppling over.

Sebastian chuckled, leaning on the railing beside you. “He’s fearless, isn’t he?”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” you teased, nudging him.

He smiled, his gaze soft as he watched Sophie let go of the wall and take a few tentative glides on her own. “And she’s so careful. She thinks everything through.”

“She’s like me,” you said, pride lacing your voice.

“And Leo’s definitely me,” he added, laughing when your son attempted a spin and ended up flat on his backside.

For a while, the two of you just stood there, watching the kids. The lights above cast a warm glow over the ice, and the laughter of skaters filled the air. Sophie grew braver with each lap, her smile widening every time she managed a smooth glide. Leo, despite his tumbles, was unstoppable, determined to master skating in one night.

“They’re incredible,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian nodded, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “They are. And they’re ours.”

The weight of his words settled warmly in your chest. In the hustle of everyday life, it was easy to forget how fleeting these moments were—how quickly the kids were growing up, how these simple, magical nights wouldn’t last forever. You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder, grateful for this little pocket of peace.

Eventually, the kids tired themselves out, their energy finally giving way to the exhaustion of the day. You helped Sophie unlace her skates while Sebastian tended to Leo, who was regaling him with a dramatic retelling of his “epic” near collision with another skater.

“You should’ve seen it, Papa,” Leo said, his hands gesturing wildly. “I was going so fast!”

“Fast, huh?” Sebastian replied, clearly amused. “Maybe a little too fast?”

“Nah,” Leo said, grinning. “I had it under control.”

Sophie, on the other hand, was content to lean into your side, her eyes drooping as you wrapped her scarf a little tighter. “Mama,” she murmured, her voice sleepy. “Did you see me? I didn’t fall.”

“I saw, sweetheart,” you said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You were amazing.”

Sebastian joined you, his hand finding the small of your back as the four of you walked back through the market. The kids, now thoroughly worn out, held onto your hands, their earlier energy replaced with a calm, happy contentment.

The market was quieter now, though the lights still twinkled, and the faint hum of carols lingered in the air. As you passed the towering Christmas tree in the center of the square, Sebastian pulled you close, his voice low.

“Best night yet?” he asked, his green eyes searching yours.

You smiled, your heart full. “Best night yet.”

And as you walked on, your family bundled together under the glow of the lights, you knew that these were the moments that would stay with you forever.

You loved your little family more than anything.

[ocean-bookss]

❄️ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ❄️

Leon Kennedy x Reader

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

Snow falls gently outside my living room window while the warm glow of fairy lights fills the space with a cozy atmosphere. The scent of cinnamon, oranges, and a hint of mulled wine lingers in the air. My friends are scattered across my couch and armchairs, glasses clinking softly as Jill laughs at one of Carlos' jokes.

"Alright, everyone, before you're all too tipsy, let's do the Secret Santa exchange!" Claire raises her voice above the hum of Christmas music. She's curled up with her legs tucked under her, holding her mulled wine tightly.

My heart sinks into my stomach. The Secret Santa exchange. The gift. Leon. My eyes dart to him briefly. He's sitting a little apart from the others, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, nursing a half-full glass of whiskey. The flickering lights cast shadows across his sharp features, and his thoughtful gaze is focused on the drink in his hand. How can someone look so effortlessly good while just sitting there?

A light nudge on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. Jill grins knowingly at me. "Hey, you're practically shaking. You okay, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah, totally fine," I mumble and take another sip from my drink. It's my third, I think. Or my fourth? Who's counting, anyway?

Carlos raises his voice. "Alright, who's up first?"

One by one, we hand out our gifts. Jill bursts out laughing when she unwraps an absurd reindeer onesie from Carlos, Claire squeals over a personalized pocket knife, and Leon gifts Claire a high-end flashlight that looks like it could survive the apocalypse. The mood is light, and the drinks keep flowing.

"Okay," Claire begins, her eyes landing squarely on me. "Your turn, (Y/n)."

My heart is pounding so loudly, I'm sure the others can hear it. I feel everyone's eyes on me, especially Leon's. He looks relaxed but curious.

"Uh, yeah, so..." I clear my throat and stand up. My hands are trembling slightly as I grab the gift from the table. The boxing gloves are neatly wrapped, the vodka bottle securely placed beside them, and the card is carefully tucked between the two. "This is for you, Leon," I say, holding the package out to him.

His icy blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He takes the gift from me, his warm fingers brushing mine, and I can only hope I'm not visibly blushing.

"Thank you, (Y/n)." His voice is deep and calm. "Open it!" Jill calls out excitedly, elbowing Claire, who looks equally invested.

Leon sets his glass down and carefully unwraps the package with an ease that makes me even more nervous. When he pulls out the boxing gloves first, his eyebrows raise slightly.

"Boxing gloves? These are... great. My old ones are pretty worn out." He smiles at me, and my heart skips a beat.

"And vodka," he mutters, holding up the bottle. "You really know how to make a guy happy, (Y/n)."

Claire and Jill shoot me conspiratorial glances, and Carlos chuckles behind his glass. "There's also... a card," I stammer, feeling the last bit of courage draining from me. Leon pulls out the card and opens it. My heart stops, and I forget how to breathe entirely. His eyes scan over the words, and then he looks back up at me. His gaze is warm, soft, but also... surprised?

"'If you're up for it, I'd love to take you out to dinner. Just the two of us.'" Leon reads the words aloud softly, then lowers the card.

Silence fills the room, and I'm pretty sure Claire and Jill are practically boring holes into us with their stares.

Leon stands up and takes a step toward me. I'm frozen in place, unable to move an inch.

"Thanks for the gifts, (Y/n)." His smile is gentle, and his eyes hold an expression I can't quite decipher. "I'd really like that."

A massive weight lifts from my chest, and I can't stop the wide smile spreading across my face. "Really? I mean... cool! That's great."

"I'm looking forward to it." He slips the card into his jacket pocket and lifts the vodka bottle slightly. "Maybe we can crack this open on our date."

Jill can't hold it in any longer. "Finally! Oh my God!"

"Hey, hey, don't scare them off now," Carlos says, holding up his hands in mock surrender, but he's grinning widely.

Leon shakes his head slightly, trying to hide a smirk. "Thank you, (Y/n). Really. This is one of the best gifts I've received in a long time."

"I'm... I'm glad you like it," I reply honestly, and this time, I meet his gaze without looking away.

The music continues to play, and the others settle back into their spots. Leon sits back in his armchair, but this time, he glances over at me more often. And every time our eyes meet, I feel a warm flutter in my stomach.

─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─

Later That Night

The others have already made themselves comfortable in my guest rooms, and the apartment has fallen quiet. Only I remain in the kitchen, clearing away the last of the glasses. "You're still up?" Leon's voice makes me jump slightly. He's leaning against the doorframe, hands tucked into the pockets of his gray sweatpants.

"Yeah, I... just wanted to clean up a bit."

He steps closer, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. "Thank you again for the gift. And the invitation."

I smile shyly. "No problem. I thought... it might be a nice idea."

"It was." He smiles softly, and for a moment, it feels like time stops.

We stand there in silence for a moment. Then Leon pushes away from the counter and steps closer to me.

"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

"Merry Christmas, Leon."

Before I can even process what's happening, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. His lips are warm and gentle, and I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped beating.

When he pulls back, there's a faint smile on his face. "Good night."

He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there, frozen in place. My hand instinctively rises to my cheek, and I can't stop the wide grin from spreading across my face.

Maybe this Christmas wasn't just another night with friends. Maybe it was the start of something beautiful.

─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─

Oneshot Collection on Wattpad !

[two-bit-too-high]

lost boys with a hyper mate/pack member, then when they get back to the cave they just burn out and pass tf out. Fluff 100%

A/N hello y'all thx for the suggestions I'm gonna work on them over the next few days or whenever hope y'all are having a good Christmas or holidays and I hope you enjoy. Feel free to send in anymore ideas and as always nothing too spicy.

The Lost boys x Hyper reader

☁️ Pure fluffy

⚠️Warnings: drugs (mentioned in passing) also for just incase Cotten Cady = Fairy Floss

(I am dyslexic so I do apologise if anything is miss spelt or if the gramma is awful)

Anyway enjoy

Summer time in Santa Carla the best time school was out and the boardwalk was busy. Busy boardwalk ment easy picking for the local vampires. Speaking of the local vampires, two of them were currently parked at the beach watching over a group of surfnazis scouting out their meal for the night.

“Ew no he is not sunburnt ” said Paul as he leant up against Marko’s bike “oh come on that doesn’t change anything about the blood, about the good bit” Marko replied. “It’s the sunblock that makes it taste different” Paul adds The two continued to talk and make their choices for food. After a few moments they heard the other three motorcycles pull out a little bit away then a few seconds after Paul had been tackled to the ground.

“Ah! What was that for, boo” he yelled as he started to rough house with them in the sand “DAVID GAVE ME COTTON CADY” you yelled in reply “ the big cotton candy” adds Dwyane in a less than impressed.you keep tussling and rolling around on the sandbank with Paul. “Just cotton candy?” Paul says “ AND A SNOW CONE” you reply. After a few More moments of laughter and roughhousing you two are pulled apart by Dwayne “that’s enough little one” he said with a smile. You The smaller vampire was still buzzing as you sat down on the sand looking around like a Meerkat “ I can taste colour” you say looking up at David who was standing behind you looking down “oh really now” he replied “yeah” you say as lean back on his legs “you done being a little critter yet” he asked before he could get an answer you were gone. you had scaled up a tree and started to swing back and forth on a branch “wooooow I can see the whole of Santa Carla from up here” you say like a child at an amusement park for the first time. “Come on Meerkat get down we all need to feed” calls out David from under the tree “right right Proper food” you let go of the branch and land on your feet in the sand “come on then ya lazy bums” you say as you run past the boys into the camp of surfnazis the boys following suit.

After your delicious bloodbath the five of you washed off in the ocean. The boys ended up floating around for a while in the meantime you had decided to go and climb some cliffs. Still running on your sugar high you quickly found a clif you were willing to challenge and started climbing. Grabbing rock after rock as you scale the rocky wall. “Woah look at them go” yelled out Marko and pointed you out to the others. By the time they had turned around to look at you where at the top waving down at them the biggest smile plastered across your face.

After your little climbing expedition was over you all made your way back to the bikes.Unbeknown to the boys you had found a few sticks of sherbet in Marko's bike bag and downed them all at once. “Marko Marko Marko Marko” you yapped as you jumped around him in a small circle “what what what what” he yaps back his eyes following you around. “ Was that sugar or cocaine in those sticks” you ask “sugar” he Answered “ok” you say before jumping into your bike. “We are gonna be in for a long night” says Dwyane to David “yeah,but they are having fun so who cares” David replies

The drive home was faster than usual due to your sugar boots. Now usually the boys don't care about speed limits. That was more of a you thing as you were human more recently than them and knew what a nasty high speed crash could do someone.but on this particular night you had completely thrown those fears out the window. Where you gonna go at 150 over that old rusty bridge absolutely and did you love absolutely.

Once back at the cave the boys expect you to keep going. Too jump about the cave from rock ledge to rock ledge but alas they were wrong. Once you all got home they watched as you slowly and lethargically walked up to the small bedroom that they had made for you when you turned six years ago. Once inside you tuned to your records and record player picking out a vinyl that Paul had given you for your new birthday day that being the day that made your First kill and completed the process to becoming a vampire.

“What are you doing boo” asked paul as he joined you laying down in the nest bed that had been made a few months ago. “Energy low” you say as you cuddle up to his chest fiddling with the fishnet shirt he was wearing .As the sound of Bon Jovi started to softly fill the room the boys started to file in joining you in the nest eventually you fell asleep. You are in the middle David and Dwyane to your right and the two blonde bombshells to your left.

“And they crashed” said Marko as he cuddles up beside you “sugar crash” added Paul “I bet you their teeth are gonna hurt tomorrow night” said David who was laying half on the bed half on Dwyane.”Good thing I brought more toothpaste today then” slurred Dwyane as he was half asleep. One by one they all started to slip into sleep.As the soft sound of Bon Jovi’s “living on a prayer” filled the room.

Thx for reading I hope you have a great day :)

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The holiday pretense- Chapter 1

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air.

Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend.

But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request.

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying, anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. And I know I am literally that meme rn, the: summer is over-skips straight to Christmas. But do you have any idea just how slow I write? Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 1-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: again, I didn't write in 8-ish years, so this is very very scary. Add in a dash of 'English is not my first language' and you get whatever this is. enjoy. Merry Christmas. part 2: here

Ah winter, the most wonderful time of the year.

The season when the air is crisp, and the city gets blanketed in thick, white snowfall. When the satisfying sound of crunching snow accompanies every step and every word transforms into nothing more than a puff of steam dancing through the chilly air.

When Mariah Carey’s voice echoes in literally every store for an obnoxious 24/7, as if she has some kind of personal vendetta against silence…

When the heating bill increases by 37%, and it takes an extra 15 minutes for the heater to kick in and for the hot water to grace the showerhead. Ergo, Namjoon now has to wake up half an hour early if he wants to take a shower and not freeze half to death during the day, because the landlord was adamant that there was nothing to be done about the situation.

But it wasn’t all bad.

Sure, Namjoon was never one to possess the so-called Christmas spirit. In fact, he was known to be a bit of a grinch among his friends.

Jin, in particular, enjoyed telling anyone who would listen about their first Christmas at college, when Namjoon adamantly refused to help him decorate the tree after begrudgingly lugging it to their shared apartment.

And most years Namjoon’s lack of enthusiasm for the season was palpable. While his friends reveled in the cheerful atmosphere, he somehow managed to remain detached and aloof, his grinch-like demeanor becoming a defining characteristic, much to the amusement of his companions.

However, there were still aspects of the holiday that Namjoon couldn’t help but secretly enjoy. The food, for instance, was undeniably good. Although the movies were mediocre and the music overplayed, he still found himself humming along to Winter Wonderland whenever it played. And the energetic buzz that seized his friends was no doubt contagious;

This year, before he could even process it, he was dubbed designated fairy-light fixer, the judge of the ugly sweater contest (solely because he had the audacity to show up wearing a black hoodie) and somehow promised Jungkook to help him pick up gifts for his mom, his cousin, and girlfriend.

And now, with the holidays looming just around the corner, and the entire city buzzing with chatter about family feasts, romantic rendezvous, and the art of gift-giving, Namjoon couldn't help but feel a little pang of longing. It had been a solid two years since he last set foot in his hometown, and the melancholic urge to return home seemed like the only logical response to it all.

Or maybe he just needed a vacation…

But there was just one thing that kept Namjoon, a logical being, from making that phone call home.

He knew that part of the reason behind his mother’s question was for organizational purposes, yet he couldn’t help but notice the mischievous twinkle in her voice each time she sweetly asked:

“And are you coming alone?”

Few things managed to irk him as much that specific question in that specific context. And even with countless nights analyzing the emotions it stirred within him, Namjoon found himself very stupidly replying with:

“Uhm, no actually-” despite being painfully single, and fully aware of it.

Following that, the hope of regaining any sensible thought was gone as a chorus of ecstatic comments erupted form his mother’s end of the phone. With a hurried, “Can’t wait to see you, yeah, love you too,” he was left in the suffocating silence of his bedroom, with a new predicament he needed to solve.

Now, let’s not forget, Namjoon is no ordinary man. He possesses a brain that could rival Einstein’s, and he knows all too well that he could simply call back and clarify that his plus one is as real as Santa Claus.

But Namjoon doesn’t half-ass anything. He full-asses it.

That and showing up alone would undoubtedly result in his mom’s attempts to play matchmaker. And if he were to show up alone, after lying about it, well, he might as well prepare for an arranged marriage.

Namjoon sighed as he looked at his phone. He couldn’t understand why his mother had this new found obsession with his relationship status. Especially after she witnessed just how bad his last one ended. Now sure, he may have taken the whole ‘healing-era’ to a bit of an extreme, seeing as he had no relationship, no situationship and no inclination to entertain any romantic thoughts whatsoever. But this was getting ridiculous. Lying to his own mother?

Perhaps he could ask his assistant to pretend to be his girlfriend for the week? No, that wouldn’t work. She mentioned she was hosting the Christmas dinner this year. And it would involve more explanations to HR than it’s worth…

And he couldn’t overlook the fact that her fiancé would most certainly not be amused by that idea.

Just as he was about give up and plunge into another rabbit hole of despair, the solution to his problem came accompanied by the familiar sound of glass smashing in the kitchen.

You.

You would be perfect.

Most people already assumed you two were dating, seeing how seamlessly you fit yourself into his life after moving in.

And last he checked you couldn’t make it home because of some pesky law-jargon issues that required your presence at the office. And changing your flight to a few days later cost you an arm and a leg, while changing it to January was completely free.

And last he checked; you were just as chronically single as he was. (He knew because your last date was so disastrous that he had to abandon his gaming night and rescue you from the restaurant).  

Another crash in the kitchen summoned him back into action. Swiftly snatching his hoodie from the designated clothes chair and making his way to you, detouring only to retrieve the medical kit from the bathroom.

He was quick to spot you, still clad in your work attire, crouched besides the counter, diligently sweeping the stray glass shards of what used to be an ugly mug. His eyes involuntarily wondering towards your ass, once again marveling at how flawlessly you wore that office skirt before snapping himself out of it.

“And I believe that evens out the score, seeing as I only broke a plate, and you killed two mugs this season” he declares, ensuring you weren’t bleeding before abandoning the first aid kit on the counter to fetch the trusty vacuum cleaner.

It was standard procedure by now.

“You also managed to break the microwave, so the title remains yours,” you grumble as you rose to your feet, a smile unconsciously tugging at your lips when you caught sight of his charming dimpled face. “Hey there.”

“Hello,” he replied, giving you a swift once-over in case he missed any hidden hemorrhages “what happened?”

“It just jumped out of the cupboard when I opened it,” you gestured towards the dust pan, as if to prove the cup suddenly acquired acrobatic skills before its untimely demise, causing him to break into a grin “I’ll get you a new one.”

“No worries, it was a gift form an ex, and it was hideous anyway.”

As he vacuumed the area, you disposed of the glass, making sure it wouldn’t slice through the trash bag like last time.

Once the kitchen was safe again, you returned to your previous task, grabbing a new cup and casually turning your back to him.

" Do you want to try an unreasonably expensive hot chocolate with me?" you playfully suggested, catching his eye as he noticed the purple tin on the counter, adorned with a big red bow, alongside a very generic Christmas card.

"Secret Santa?" he inquired back, picking up the card, already aware of the answer to your question.

Unconsciously, he began mentally listing reasons why you would make a good fake girlfriend. Topping the list was your uncanny ability to understand him without lengthy explanations. And it was all quite digestible, wasn't it? Two long-time friends and roommates, thrown together by chance, suddenly discovering hidden feelings for each other?

All his friends seemed to have unanimously agreed that the two of you would make a splendid pair, back when you met, when his roommate, Jin, started dating your roommate, Myeong.

 On their inaugural date, Myeong, in a fit of paranoia, asked you to tag along, in case her potential lover turned out to be a serial killer. And Jin, ever the considerate soul, felt compelled to invite Namjoon, not only to spare you the agony of being the third wheel, but also in the hope of pulling Namjoon out of his dating slump. Not that you would ever notice, as you were knee-deep in exam session, sleep deprived and buried in a mountain of law books.

Poor Namjoon somehow ended up carrying the weight of being third and fourth wheel simultaneously.

But you eventually made up for it, once your exams were over and had a proper 18 hours of sleep.

In no time you wiggled your way into his heart, transforming those awkward double dates into enjoyable hangouts. You’d spend countless hours discussing everything from books to the latest plot twists in popular dramas, to sharing dreams, fears and hopes.

As Myeong and Jin’s relationship blossomed, they gradually faded into the background of your outings, until they were eventually excluded all together. And neither of you seemed to mind, as you found it easier to focus on your conversations without their constant chatter.

That and they couldn’t be quiet in movie theatres like decent human beings.

It was during one of these outings that Namjoon realized just how alluring he found you. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes made his heart race. Your sharp mind and wit were a match made in heaven for him. And your ability to render him speechless was both infuriating and exhilarating.

But Namjoon also knew that you were deeply committed to your studies, and he didn't want to do anything to distract you from your goals. So, he held back, admiring you from a distance and hoping that someday things might be different.

And as time passed, and he graduated, he came to terms with the fact that you two would never be more than casual friends.

Little did he know that the universe had its own wicked sense of humor. When fate decided to play its sly hand and leave you virtually homeless, because your respective roommates decided to take the next step in their relationship and move in together.

It was only logical, then, for the two of you to shack up as well. After all, you were friends, both neat freaks, and most of all, desperately in need of a roommate.

“The roommate switch”, as Jimin so eloquently put it.

And thus began the most wonderful living arrangement Namjoon ever experienced. Not that he would never tell Jin that.

Suddenly, his bathroom cabinet resembled a Bath and Body works store, and your pink pots and pans had taken over his kitchen. But he wouldn’t mind, seeing that the cooking interdiction was extended, once Jin started recounting all the times Namjoon almost turned their previous apartment into a bonfire during your housewarming bash.

However, you never scolded him for his butterfingers because, truth be told, you had your own healthy dose of clumsiness, (the cup chilling in the trash an indisputable witness to it).

It was quite refreshing to find someone who shared his knack for dropping things.

And he made up for all the free meals by taking care of the dishes. He even went above and beyond by meticulously following the odd care instructions for your fancy pots.

And the rest of your household chores fell into perfect harmony.

 He willingly handled all the ironing, including your own, simply because you couldn’t be bothered. In return, you would dutifully clean the lint tray in the dryer, even when it was his turn to do the laundry, because he found it absolutely disgusting, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to gross him out.

It suddenly dawned on him why all his friends were convinced that you two were together. He was smitten with you, after all.

But again, time has worked its magic! His infatuation had been long departed, so he could proceed with his plan and not let it affect your friendship in any way, shape or form!

“You know, I never quite understood the purpose of Secret Santa,” you confessed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I mean, sure, it makes sense in a small group where you can actually get to know the person and buy them something nice. But in a corporate setting, where you’re thrown together with people from different departments, it makes absolutely no sense!” you spoke with passion, even stirring the milk a little harder, causing an impish smile to dance across his face.

“Because you end up with situations like this, where creepy Greg from the watercooler suddenly feels the need to win my graces and splurge on stupidly expensive hot chocolate.”

Namjoon was familiar with your HR endeavors involving Greg, especially after he hit on one of your colleagues.

“Do you want to know how much this monstrosity costs?” you asked, trying to contain your amusement at the sheer absurdity of it all. Pouring the cocoa into the milk and placing the mugs in front of him, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Surprise me,” Namjoon took a sip, which he regretted because he choked once you answered,

“Sixty dollars!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous” he coughed, once he regained control of his lungs.

The hot chocolate was nice, but nowhere close to justifying the hefty price tag. For all he knew, it could have been dollar store cocoa. But your contagious laugh made it all worthwhile, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe Greg deserved to lose his Christmas bonus on overpriced cocoa that you both would mock.

“Tastes like cardboard” you concluded after a mouthful, “maybe it was meant for that hideous mug your ex gave you,” you teased, earning a puzzled look. “This has horrible taste,” you tack on, noticing his raised eyebrow “just like your exes.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that,” he replied, feigning offense.

“Well, they did break up with you, so clearly their taste is questionable,” You ruffled his hair as you walked past him, your cocoa abandoned on the table.

This wasn’t uncommon in your friendship. Afterall, you were his biggest supporter, as he was yours. But now, with the odd favor he was about to ask you; he couldn’t help but ponder your words for longer than usual. Until he heard the door to your room close and he realized he was left alone in the kitchen.

“Any updates on that flight of yours?” he asked, shooting a glance towards your door. Perhaps the universe would take pity on him and spare him the embarrassment he was dreading.

“Still in January!” you hollered back, your voice muffled by the commotion in your room.

“Ah, cool, cool…” he muttered under his breath, more to psych himself up and gather the courage needed to go over and make a complete fool of himself.  

“Are you still planning on heading home?” your voice was barely audible amidst the movement, so he walked over and propped himself against your door to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” He replied absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck.

Not unless he can find a girlfriend for the week.  “Hey,” he continued, his voice devoid of any moisture, “can I ask you a favor?”

The door swung open, almost causing him to stumble, to reveal you, wearing pajama bottoms and a black tank top, clutching one of his sweaters.

“Depends.” You answered flatly. “Mind if I borrow this?” you gestured towards the sweater, awaiting his nod of approval before slipping it on and sauntering past him to claim your usual spot on the couch. With your feet cozily tucked under the cushion, you scrolled through your phone, probably looking up another horrible movie you’d force him to watch. Oblivious to the fact that you ticked off another item on his mental checklist: looking damn good in his clothes.

“Okay” he took a deep breath and settled down beside you, his posture impeccable and his gaze fixed on the blank tv screen. You glanced over intrigued by his sudden shift in behavior.

“This is going to be weird, and you can tell me to fuck off any moment this makes you uncomfortable. And I promise I’ll never bring it up again, and we can pretend this never happened,” he stumbled over his words, a stark contrast to his usually calmed and composed demeanor.

Your mind raced, conjuring up the worst-case scenarios as you slowly set aside your phone, captivated by every word leaving his mouth.   

Was he about to kick you out?

That only seemed to aggravate whatever Namjoon was on, as he continued to mumble, insisting that you didn’t have to agree to it if you didn’t want to. Which didn’t make any sense, because if he was going to kick you out, he should at least have the balls to tell you straight forward.

You gently collected his hands, causing him to halt abruptly. His wide eyes finally locked with yours as you softly uttered “Just tell me.” You peered up at him, bracing yourself for the worst, and completely unprepared for what was to follow.

“Will you please do me a solid and pretend to be my girlfriend for a week?” he stammered, unable to maintain eye contact, his voice fading into a whisper towards the end.

“What?”

“I might have told my mom I’m in a relationship, and now I desperately need a stand-in girlfriend for the next few days” he confessed sheepishly, quickly adding, “But seriously, if you’re uncomfortable with this, just say the word and we can erase this whole conversation from existence.”

“Oh my goodness, Namjoon,” you breathed out in relief, a laugh escaping your lips as you rested your head on his lap, leaving him even more perplexed. “I thought you were kicking me out.”

“What?” he chuckled, watching you raise a few seconds later, rubbing your eyes before fixing your gaze on him, contemplating his request.

“How can you be so brilliant and so dumb at the same time? Just call your mom back…”

“No, you don’t get it. I can’t do that. If I do, she’ll set me up with the neighbor’s daughter again” Namjoon explained, clearly not in the right mindset to entertain that idea again.

“You want me to lie to your mother?” you asked incredulously.

“Please don’t phrase it like that.” he covered his face, deflating completely besides you.

“This is essentially what you are asking me to do... I don’t know how that makes me feel. Your mom, by the way, is an absolute sweetheart…” you trailed off, observing him intently as he brushed away the hair in his eyes.

You didn’t get to know her too well, but the last time she visited she made sure to stock up your whole fridge with homecooked meals. And to top it off, she even baked cookies especially for you once Namjoon mentioned he had a new roommate.

The discussion, however, took a bit of an unexpected turn when she realized the roommate was you. A girl and not another frat guy. But she quickly developed a fondness for you. Or at least, that’s what you believed when she gave you the tightest hug goodbye.

“I know. It’s a stupid idea.” He muttered, rubbing his face a bit harder than necessary. Then he locked eyes with you and continued. “I am well aware of how dumb this is. And that is exactly why I need you there with me.” His statement left you dumbfounded, completely unable to find any words. “I just want to go home and relish in the fact that I am there without constantly worrying about being single.” he took a shaky breath before continuing,

 “I can’t comprehend why my mom is so fixated on this matter.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I just need someone to navigate this absurdity with me for the holidays, and then we never mention it again.” 

His little speech left you stunned, and before you knew it, you were actually considering his proposal.

 Your Christmas plan was already ruined, and agreeing would mean that you would not be confined to your couch, enduring cheesy Hallmark movies and crying alone on Christmas eve.

Moreover, you were convinced that you had moved on from the little crush you had on him back when you met. Refusing still to admit that you’ve always had a soft spot for the gentle giant that slowly became a staple in your life, and that spending the holidays with him would be the best scenario that could ever happen.

But could you make it through this without getting your heart trampled and your friendship going up in smoke? As these thoughts started to swirl in your mind, your eyes began to wander aimlessly. From his eyes to his chiseled cheekbones and strong jawline, down to his neck and collarbone, and finally to his impressively muscular chest that seemed to only have grown since he started attending the gym religiously with Jungkook. And not to mention those arms that give the most incredible bear hugs. It was strange to allow yourself to notice his physicality in such detail, as if you had been willfully blind to his newfound buffness until now.

“Forget it, I’m sorry I asked,” he said, sensing your hesitation and preparing to end his suffering. But you stopped him in his tracks.

“If we are going to do this, we need a plan.” His eyes light up, color returning to his cheeks, before he squeezed you in a tight embrace “and just so you know, you owe me,” you laughed once he released you.

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want.”

“You take out the trash for a month,” he was too quick to nod “and I want you to take me to that bakery you and Jin always rave about.”

“Ajumeoni’s bakery?” he smiled at your request. That was the bakery Namjoon visited with his sister every Friday as a child, and every other day with Jin, on their way to school, because the milk bread was to die for. “Of course. It’s already part of the commute, so consider it done.”

“Good. We have a deal then,” you extended your hand as if sealing a business agreement, instead of setting yourselves up for a disaster. He reciprocated with a firm shake, and you swiftly retrieved your notepad from the coffee table. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, let’s establish a few key details about us. We need to become well-acquainted with each other’s personal preferences, so it doesn’t come across like we are just… pretending” he looked over at you as you scribbled.

“I mean, it’s a digestible story already. Two oblivious roommates, suddenly realizing they have feelings for one another after living together for years.” You mused, only to be met with his response.

“And once this is all over, we can simply tell everyone that we figured out we were better off as friends than lovers,” he pondered aloud.

“Right,” you replied, looking up from your notebook “How long have we been dating?”

“Anywhere from three to six months” he promptly answered and you jot it down before firing off your next question.

“And why haven’t we told any of our friends and family?”

“To avoid the inevitable ‘I knew it!’ and because we like the trill of keeping a secret.”

“Fair enough,” you chuckled “So, how did we get together?”

“You finally realized how charming I am and just couldn’t contain yourself?” he flashed a cheeky smile and you playfully deflect by giving his chest a gentle push.

“How about your birthday party?” you offered “We were both buzzed enough to share a kiss and then you confessed?”

“Why do I confess?” he whined, peering over at your notebook page where you already wrote down your version of events.

“Because I’m shy about that kind of stuff” you mumble, burying your face in the cozy confines of his sweater, avoiding any potential eye contact.

 “That’s adorable,”

“Shut up.” You chuckle “Alright, is there anything I should know about you?”

“I’m not a big fan of PDA, especially when we’re out and about, so don’t expect me to be all over you.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But since we’re going home and pretending to be a couple, what level of affection are you comfortable with?”

“Well, I’m comfortable with you,” you cleared your throat, that bit of information being more truthful than intended “we can hold hands, and do normal couple stuff.”

“How do you feel about kissing?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” you responded nonchalantly, eyes fixating on the notepad in your hands.

A mischievous grin played on his lips as he teased, “Good, because I happen to be quite fond of leaving hickeys.” That broke you out of your little spiral, rolling your eyes at his poor attempt.

As if you weren’t already aware of this tidbit from his past conquests during your college days, before you two became roommates.

“You do know this is all pretend, right?” you retorted, refusing to take the bait.

“Oh, but baby, we’ve got to make it feel real,” he insisted, his tone dripping with charm. However, it did nothing to sway your logical approach to it.

“Right, ‘baby’” -you said it as if it was a legal term, “any preferences for pet names?”

Your serious charade did little to detour him. “Just promise me that our interactions won’t be like Jin and Myeong’s.”  He smiles, eyes twinkling with mischief.  “And surprise me, I’ll be putty in your hands.”

“So, you are not set on honorifics. I can call you Oppa if you want,” little did you know, your innocent suggestion struck a hidden chord within him. A new kink that needed further assessment later on, preferably after this week was over.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, clearing his throat and reclining against the couch. “Anything I should know about you?”

You pondered his question for a few seconds, allowing a sly smile to play your lips. “I don’t like feet.”

“No duh!” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before regaining his composure. With a meticulous air, he went over all the details once more. “Ah, you need a new background on your phone.”

 Swiftly, he snatched your phone form the coffee table, catching you off guard, and planted a quick kiss on your cheek before snapping a selfie. “Perfect,” he declared, a proud smile spreading across his face as he set the picture as your home screen and background, leaving you to gather your frenzied thoughts.

“But wait, you also need a new photo,” You retorted, only to find him already one step ahead, pulling out his phone from his pajama bottoms and scrolling through his camera roll.

“Done.” He announced, turning his phone towards you to reveal the horrendous picture he had chosen as his own home screen. 

 A candid shot he took during your last year at college, on one of those late-night noodles runs to the local shop next to the library. You were draped in an oversized hoodie, greedily slurping a mouthful of noodles. With eyes blissfully shut, you savored every bite, as it was your first meal of that day, completely oblivious to his hidden photography skills.

It wasn’t until you accidentally stumbled upon your caller ID that you saw it and naturally, grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him, demanding an immediate change. But he stood his ground, claiming it was his favorite photo of you.

Claim proven yet again as now it was Namjoon’s home screen.

“I hate that photo.”

“I know.” He gave a smile, before safely tucking his phone back in his pocket, and rose to his feet, stretching leisurely. “I think we are good to go, girlfriend,” he said it in such a way that sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “I’ll go book our train tickets, and you better start packing soon,” he playfully pointed at you, before gracefully disappearing into his room to retrieve his laptop.

“Oh, wait, I need to get a present for your mom!”

~~~

Before the train even arrived in the station, the sky was threatening to unleash upon you. The air filled with delicate snowflakes, determined to bury you, Namjoon, and your luggage.  But it was yesterday’s conversation that still lingered in the atmosphere, weighing heavy on both your minds.

The darkness of the night had given you both time to process what was about to unfold. Your only anchor on reality being Namjoon’s surprisingly warm hand clasping your freezing one, and tucking it away in his warm coat pocket.

And the fact that he looked like he just strolled out of the latest winter Vogue edition for men didn’t help. While you attempted to make a lasting impression, donning a cream knitted dress, black stockings and boots, topped off with a cream coat, that was far too flimsy for the weather, Namjoon effortlessly sported a navy-blue hoodie, snug jeans and a stylish black trench coat, and even a matching beanie that made his hair look absolutely flawless.

But beyond his impeccable fashion sense, he also proved to be quite the gentleman. Not that you ever doubted it, but now he seemed determined to showcase his chivalry. He wouldn’t even let you lock the door to your own apartment. It was a miracle he allowed you to carry the bottle of Chardonnay you insisted on getting his family, despite his protests that it wasn't necessary. You slightly regretted it now, seeing as your other hand was enduring the elements, instead of being intertwined with his.

“You have snow in your hair,” you pointed out, stating the obvious with the brilliance of a water-is-wet revelation.

“As do you.” he looked up from his phone, where he was engrossed in checking the train’s schedule for any potential delays. “And your lips are blue.” with a swift motion, he untangled his scarf and gently draped it around your freezing form. Something he had done many a time before, anytime he saw you slightly cold, but never before had you considered this gesture to be more than your friend looking out for you.

But today, things were different. Today you were pretending to be his girlfriend.

The sudden surge of warmth that enveloped you left you wondering if it was due to all your blood rushing to your cheeks or his scarf possessing some sort of magical heating abilities.

“It says here that the snow storm shouldn’t intervene with the scheduling, so the train will be here in a few minutes.” He looked up again, a cheerful grin appearing across his features as he caught sight of your pink face. “Aw you’re blushing again,”

“Shut up.” you retorted with the quick-wittedness of a third-grader.

“If I would have known it was this easy to make you flush, I would have made my fictional moves much sooner.” His voice did that thing again, where it went slightly deeper and, only the look in his eyes ticking you off to his teasing.

Your only response was to nervously nibble on your lip. Again, the realization that you are about to deceive not only his mother, but his entire family nestle in your chest, squeezing at your heart like a snake wrapped around it.

“Namjoon, I’m not sure about this.” you confessed, pulling the scarf closer to your face. It was a bit late to be getting cold feet, but this was your last opportunity to speak your mind before embarking on this little ordeal. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”

“Come on now, aren’t you an intern at a law firm?” he raised a playful eyebrow, attempting to ease the tension, but you only glared at him.

“I can’t lie.” You stated firmly “I’m the absolute worse at it. That is why I always find alternative ways of convey the truth. That’s what lawyers do. We don’t resort to lies.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he quickly apologized, before falling silent for a few seconds to ponder a solution. "Okay, listen. You don’t have to say anything."

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

"I can take care of all the relationship talk, and I won’t say anything unless prompted.” he replied, trying to inject a touch of wit into his response. “Afterall, you are just my friend that just happens to be a girl.” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you “And I want you to spend Christmas with me and my family instead of being alone at home.” Namjoon gave you a sincere smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the grip on your heart slightly loosen.

“Okay,” you gave a small nod “Thank you Joon.”

The nickname slipped by unnoticed, but you noticed the way Namjoon reacted, rekindling your burning cheeks.

“So, no Oppa?”

When your train arrived, Namjoon swiftly took charge, effortlessly carrying all the bags to your seats, settling in comfortably for the four-hour journey ahead.

He had come prepared, armed with at least three books to keep himself entertained, while you had grand plans of getting a head start on your work, perhaps even sneaking in a personal lecture and a quick power nap. However, much to your surprise, the allure of a nap quickly surpassed all other ambitions, your head found a cozy resting place on Namjoon’s shoulder, and you drifted off into a blissful slumber for the remainder of the journey. A sleepless night imagining what it would be like pretending to date your roommate could do that to you.

Only stirring awake when you were less than a few minutes away, because Namjoon was constantly shifting in his seat, half of his body numb from your weight on him.

“Oh hey,” he whispered, swiftly stretching his legs as soon as you moved off him. “I just spoke to Minhi, she said she’d come pick us up from the train station,”

“Oh, that’s nice.” you yawned, rubbing away any remnants of sleep from your eyes “You could have told me to move, you know.”

“Yes, but you looked so peaceful. It felt almost wrong to disturb you.” He grinned, fully aware that he also indulged in a little nap, using your head as a pillow just half an hour ago.

“Shut up,” you whispered, poking his thigh and retrieving your makeup bag to quickly fix your face before the train pulled up in the station.

The frigid air pierced through your very bones, sending an instant shiver cascading down your spine as you stepped into the snow filled air. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, trying to ward off the cold as you looked around for Minhi, seeing as Namjoon was on luggage duty again.

However, before you could spot her, Minhi’s voice sliced through the chilly air,

“Kim Namjoon, you have got to be kidding me.”

Namjoon’s little sister, all bundled up in a thick winter coat had fixed you two with a piercing stare, her hands on her hips in a classic display of sibling disapproval. 

Namjoon’s wonky smile did nothing to deter her piercing gaze, or calm any of your fraying nerves. “It’s good to see you too?”

You feel your heart drop as Minhi's gaze shifts from her brother to you, her expression a mix of confusion and suspicion. Your worst fears are confirmed - she's figured you out and you haven’t even been off the train for 5 minutes. Now Namjoon will be married off to some rich middle-aged woman and you'll never be able to look him in the eye again.

 You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you look away, silently praying that the snow beneath your boots doesn’t melt into a puddle while she stares.

But then, unexpectedly, Minhi starts to laugh. At first, it's a quiet chuckle, but soon it grows into a full-blown laugh. She laughs so hard that she has to hold her stomach, and at the end she wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

“You two are perfect for each other,” she says still chuckling “Fine, I’ll play along. How did you two end up together?”

“Got drunk one night.” Namjoon casually replied, rubbing the back of his neck before wrapping his arm around you, “Turns out all I had to do was say something, because she was all over me the next second.” 

Minhi raised her eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right,” She hugged Namjoon tightly, and then turned to you, surprising you with a warm embrace. She muttered something about Namjoon never confessing his feelings in your coat, but you were too busy drowning in a whirlwind of confusion and relief to register it.

“We'll talk more later about how inappropriate this is." She added cheerfully, beckoning you to follow her towards her little yellow jeep, bright against the snowy backdrop.

You look back at Namjoon just in time to catch him winking in your direction and giving you a thumbs-up that sent your heart whirling in your chest.

 The car ride was over faster than you would have wanted. Minhi navigated the snow-laden road while she and Namjoon chatted away about mundane topics—work, rent, the best coffee in town. You sank deeper into the backseat, overwhelmed and lost in your thoughts. Because What the hell was that and If this was how you were kicking things off you might as well turn around now. Was it just fear of ruining the friendship or was an old crush budding again? The way he ‘claimed’ you in front of Minhi clearly ignited something in your chest that was not appropriate for friends or roommates or roommate-friends pretending to be dating.

As if sensing your turmoil from the front, Namjoon caught your eyes, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile before the car came to a halt. He gallantly opened the door for you, his hand grasping yours and squeezing it tightly.  

 “I got you, baby,” he says, teasingly, but the poorly-timed joke earns him an immediate glare and an elbow to the ribs.  

“Oh, come on. They are lovely people.” Minhi interrupts before Namjoon can retaliate, “You should’ve seen the way mom was dancing around the kitchen once she heard Namjoon was bringing someone over.”

You just blink at her, your breath misting in the air as you unconsciously step closer to Namjoon, giving him a small nod of support. His presence radiates warmth, his fingers tightening around yours as you walked towards the small house that looms in front of you. Minhi ambles ahead, dropping her bag near the entrance, while you could practically feel Namjoon vibrating with excitement.

“Someone’s in trouble” She whispers dramatically, letting you both into the warmth of the household, where laughter and the mouthwatering scent of home-cooked food intertwine. You follow her into the kitchen and you see the older couple husting about, half-focused on a pot bubbling over the stove and half on each other.

“Mom! Dad! Look who I’ve brought!” she announces, and the couple turned, smiles blooming as they spotted you and Namjoon.

For a fleeting moment, you felt exposed. Like an exhibit at a museum, thrust into the spotlight. Your breath hitched as Namjoon gently nudged you forward, a gesture both comforting and terrifying, but steeling yourself, you bravely stepped ahead, bowing as a sign of respect.

“I knew it!” The affectionate glow sweeping across Mrs. Kim face relaxed your nerves considerably, “I’m so glad you could make it!” her eyes sparkled with genuine delight, and you suddenly realized that Namjoon inherited his dimples from her. But the thought was quickly squeezed out of you as she enveloped you in that bone-crushing hug.

Namjoon’s father, a tall elderly man with kind eyes, patted him on the back. His approval apparent, before he turned his attention to you, “Welcome to our home,” he said warmly.

“I’m honored to be here.” You managed to respond, your voice quacking slightly but laced with sincerity. You heard Minhi groaning in the background but did your best to ignore her exaggerations and focus only on Namjoon’s parents, as you exchanged the required pleasantries.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Kim said, bustling around the kitchen with effortless grace. The contrast between her elegant movements and Namjoon’s clumsy demeanour in the kitchen made you smile inwardly “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Yes, we didn’t get a chance to eat today,” Namjoon added quickly, casually leaning against the counter and stealing a taste from the simmering pot.

“I’ll call you over once it’s done. Go show our guest to your room until then,” Mrs. Kim commanded, expertly shooing him away from the stove and passing plates to Minhi.

“My room?” Namjoon echoed, his eyes widening as if the concept had floored him.

“Yes, dear. I know we are old-fashioned, but we are not under any illusions that you two don’t already share a room.” Mrs. Kim replied, stirring the bubbling pot without sparing him a glance.

Minhi shot you a look that was equal parts amusement and something you couldn’t quite place—sympathy, perhaps? Or pity?

“Yes- No. I just thought that it would be more appropriate to let her have the guest room,” Namjoon articulated, his voice half-hearted in its conviction.

Mrs. Kim merely cooed, waved away his protests with a flick of the wrist. “Minhi and Jackson are staying in the guest room. You can have your room.”

“Come on, Namjoon. You always make everything so complicated,” Minhi chimed in, her voice laced with mischief. “Just accept it. You guys will have an entire night to sort things out, right?”

“Right.” he grumbled, shooting her a glare that softened as he turned his gaze back to you “Let’s get you settled in,” he gestured for you to follow him.

The moment you step into Namjoon's room, a charged silence enveloped you- like the kind that proceeds a brewing storm. The room was exactly as you imagined, a blend of cooler minimalist décor and hints of his personal touch, a few pieces of art and pictures hung up on the wall, all whispering tales of youth, friendship and moments you yearned to know more about.

But all those sweet memories fade into the background as the reality settled in: there was only one bed.

“So, let me get this straight,” you began, the awkwardness hanging heavily in the air “You thought about everything, including phone wallpapers, but forgot you only have one bed in your room?”

“No, of course not.” He lied, that endearing grin spreading across his face. “I just thought it would be polite to let you have the bed… since you’re my guest.” He seemed genuinely proud of the excuse, but that pride melted when you teased,

“Before or after you plan for the guest room fell through?”

“After.” He admitted at last, glancing away, as if the walls held all the explanations he could not muster.

“Don’t tell me you planned on sleeping on the floor too,” for a brief moment the ridiculous image of him curled up on the hardwood floor, blankets draped haphazardly around him pops into your mind, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“No.” He smiles, “I knew you’d take pity on my lower back,” his dimples deepened and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Very strategic Mr. Kim,” you laugh, walking further into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The playful banter creating a familiar atmosphere, dissolving any lingering tension. A part of you almost couldn't believe you were in Namjoon’s personal space, taking your sweet time admiring the various little parts of him decorating the room, while another part was acutely aware of his gaze on you, observing you as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

He stepped closer, his expression sincere, drawing you in gently as he took your hands in his. “Are you sure?” The tentative nature of his voice hinted at a deeper question—he was about to add an ‘I was only joking’—but you quickly shushed him.

“Yes, of course.”

There were a few past occurrences where the two of you ended up falling asleep together on the couch, limbs tangled under the fuzzy throw blanket, with a movie playing in the background. Without fail, one of you would wake up in the morning to find the other wrapped around them, as the night was chilly and body heat was a rare luxury. Most of the time it was Namjoon that dozed off first, his head lolling in an awkward position until you gently nudged him into a more comfortable posture, knowing he’d whine about neck and/or shoulder pain come morning time if you didn’t. But his lug of a body was always warm, so you didn’t mind snuggling closer to him when it mattered.

This was more of the same. Just in a bed.

You swallow drily, eyes flickering away for a quick second, “I told you, I’m comfortable with you.”

“Come on, lovebirds!” Minhi’s voice rang through the door, breaking the spell. “Dinner’s ready!”

You shared a hurried glance, perspectives shifting as the familiar nervousness rushed back to you.

“Ready?” he asked, his smile spreading across his face, deepening the dimples in his cheeks as he tugged you up to your feet. You nodded, suddenly buoyed by a sense of belonging.

To your surprise, dinner goes by without a hitch. You may have gone a little overboard on the kimchi, but it wasn’t anything you wouldn’t recover from. However, the warmth of Namjoon’s hand resting softly on your thigh might etch itself into your memory for all time.

Halfway through the meal, Jackson showed up, and you got to observe with amusement as Minhi transformed in his presence, her demeanor shifting from the laid-back hostess to a giddy schoolgirl. The way she playfully nudged Jackson, her eyes sparkling each time she teased him, be it about his late arrival or some inside joke, was a refreshing sight. And you couldn’t help but snicker each time Mrs. Kim would chastise them, before dotting lovingly on anything you and Namjoon did together.

As the lively conversation flowed around you, you leaned into Namjoon’s warmth. It felt easy, and so right to nestle beside him, to let your fingers brush against his with familiarity, each touch igniting tiny sparks. You stole a glance at him, watching as he engaged wholeheartedly in the conversation, his contagious laughter filling the room.

After dinner, you offered to help Mrs. Kim clear up the table, even if it was to get a second to clear your thoughts, but to your surprise, Mr. Kim placed a soft hand on your shoulder, smiling, as he gently guided you back to your seat.

“You’ve done enough, dear,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring “We appreciate your help, but tonight is for you and Namjoon to enjoy.” He gave you a kind nod, and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Yeah, there will be dishes tomorrow too,” Minhi interrupted, getting a heartfelt laughter from her father before he left the room, to join his wife in the kitchen.

You shared a sheepish glance with Namjoon, who watched the exchange with an amused smile. His eyes twinkling in the soft light of the dining room, and you felt your heart pick-up the pace in your chest again. You really needed to get away, perhaps splash some cold water on your face. But just as you felt the urge to excuse yourself, you overheard Jackson's whispered confusion.

“Wait, so they’re not actually dating?” His voice was muted, and laced with confusion as he looked between you and Namjoon, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Kyung Min!” Namjoon called Minhi by her full name, which made her owlishly blink up at him.

“What? He asked how long you two have been dating for,” she defended.

“And you couldn’t just say three months, like a normal person?” Namjoon shot back, half laughing, half exasperated and watched as her brows knitted.

“No! He deserves to know.” She persisted, glaring at her brother, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck, trying desperately to remain inconspicuous under Jackson’s incredulous stare.

“So how exactly does this work?” Jackson asked, stopping the siblings from their bickering “Is it like friends with benefits or-?” just when you thought it couldn’t get any more awkward, the sip of water you took ended up going down the wrong way, making you choke and sputter.

“No! it’s nothing like that.”  You stammered, trying to form a coherent thought, but all you could manage was a mangled mess of words.

“No babe, they don’t even kiss,” Minhi added, placing her hand over his as if she were breaking some bad news.

But Namjoon reacted with the prove-your-sibling-wrong part of the brain, making you stare at him in disbelief.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we do.”  

And your pulse picked up again when you saw him leaning in, the implication clear in your mind. You steeled yourself, closing your eyes. But to your astonishment, he didn’t press his lips against yours as you had envisioned. Instead, they grazed the curve of your cheek, followed by a loud, exaggerated kiss.

“I’m confused.” Jackson mumbled, looking over at Minhi as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not the only one.”

~~~

Why didn’t he just kiss you?

The thought still lingered stubbornly at the edge of consciousness, even as the icy water from the shower jolted you into the present. You fumbled with the knobs, trying to figure out the right temperature, but your mind was elsewhere.

That scene kept on replaying on a constant loop in your head, each time leaving you just as stumped.

What stopped him?

You talked about this- he brought it up! And you agreed, so what was the hold-up? Was he really so uninterested that the mere thought of kissing you sent him into retreat mode?

Frustration bubbled up alongside the steam, and you invertedly cringed at the image of his nervous smile that still haunted you, his eyes darting away. Scrubbing harder at your skin, you wish the shame and embarrassment would simply wash away with the suds.

And the absurdity of getting worked over your friend not kissing you was not lost on you, but at least if he had gone for it, you might have been able to push that nagging question aside ~What would it be like to kiss Namjoon?  

His lips looked so soft, like they were meant for more than just talking…

You violently shook that thought away, and with a resigned sigh, you turned the water back to cold in an attempt to wash away your sins. Friends don’t kiss!

And he clearly wasn’t interested, so the sooner you silence these thoughts, the sooner you could go back to being normal. Just four more days of pretending to be his girlfriend. You could manage that. And after, you promised yourself you’d lock yourself in your room and avoid human interaction for rest of your miserable life.

As the water continued its relentless pour, you felt your fingertips start to wrinkle, a reminder that perhaps it was time to step out of this session of self-pity. With one last shudder, you turned the water off, determined to face the world- if only for a little while longer.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft glow of a lamp illuminated the room. Namjoon was already tucked into bed, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he quietly looked over the pages of a book. Only, in reality he hadn’t been able to absorb a single word in the past fifteen minutes, his gaze lost in a world of his own.

Silently, you made your way to your side, wrapping yourself in the blanket and turning your back to him. A slight shiver coursed through you as you felt the warmth envelop you, the little tremor alerting Namjoon to your presence.

“Why are you so cold?” he asked softly, shifting slightly closer to you.

Your heart thudded at the caring tone, and for a moment, all the questions crowd your mind again.

Instead of answering, you huffed in frustration and turned to face him.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” the words blurted out before you could stop them, surprising you both with their boldness, but your face flushed when you met his gaze.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he froze, the book forgotten on his lap. “I-I don’t know.” He stuttered, his hand running though his tousled hair, the soft strands falling back in place but not hiding the flush creeping up his neck. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense, eyes averted again in a way that tightened your stomach.

“It would’ve convinced Minhi sooner,” your added, your words hanging heavy in the air. Namjoon chuckled awkwardly, running that same hand down his face.

“You want me to kiss you?”

You hesitated, the corners of your mind fanatically searching for a safe answer

“I’m just saying it would’ve made things easier,” you deflected, avoiding his question much like he had done moments before.

He studied you for a moment, gears visibly turning in his mind before his lips curved into a small, daring smile. “Because I can kiss you if you want.”

Your breath caught in your throat, surprised by the sudden shift in tension.

“Now?” you breathed.

“Why not?” he shrugged “We’re both clearly anxious about it, so why not just get it over with?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, lost for words, staring up at him. All the courage from before evaporating into thin air. You quickly searched his features, seeking the playful glint, the laughter behind his eyes, but instead, his eyes just flickered from yours to your lips.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you finally found the words, and his eyes snapped back to your own.

“I think it would make things easier going forward,” he replied, his voice low and earnest.

A heavy silence settled between you, stretching like an elastic ready to snap at any moment, as snowflakes continued to drift outside, dressing the world in white.

You took a deep breath, “Fine.” Ultimately you mumbled, sitting up against the headboard and turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”, The way he phrased it made your stomach flop, as if he were validating a choice that seemed both reckless and somehow still challenged you.

“Yes, now stop talking and just-” The words were lost as the space between you disappeared. But now you knew; his lips were soft, warm and tentative against yours. It felt wonderful, and sent tingles shooting through your veins while your heart tried erratically to catch up. He hesitated for a heartbeat- less than a fraction of a second- before he leaned further in, deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. And you soften against him, all the tension melting away. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly as if anchoring yourself amidst the storm of emotions that released once you tasted his mint toothpaste.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for breath, the world resumed its muted noised- the quiet hum of the heater, the faint sound of voices downstairs, Namjoon’s breath against your lips. You could hardly meet his eyes, until you heard the first thing that left his lips.

“I just kissed you.”

Your eyebrow arched, blinking at him as if waiting for the punchline that never came.

“I know. I- was there too.” You replied, a little smile creeping on your face despite the rapid thump of your heart. Namjoon laughed softly; his cheeks still tinged with a shade of pink. “You’re a good kisser.” You added after a few beats of silence, before chewing on your lip, and unintentionally drawing his attention back to them.

“You too,” He gave a curt nod, remembering he has a book on his lap and fumbling to bookmark and put it away.

Another moment of silence followed once he settled back, and your eyes desperately scanned the walls for something, anything to say.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” you settled on the worst option, slightly cringing.

“No!” he answered louder than he anticipated, slightly shocking you which in return startled him. “I mean-” he let out an exasperated breath, “Friends kiss all the time.”

He didn’t believe it. And neither did you. But you still nodded in agreement.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The Current event makes me smile since it kind of confirms a headcanon I had that the Great Seven have animated movies based on them. Makes me wonder about the plot of the movies

Disney should get on the Twisted Wonderland AU Animated Remakes. What is Ursula was a good witch, what if Scar was right to take the throne and did he take it from Mufasa? (Or whoever is the stand in for him)

The Evil/Beautiful Queen...actually GOOD?

Yeah, it makes sense! Since the Great Seven are historical figures and the stuff of legends, surely there would be popular media made in their image. It’s like how the Disney fairy tales borrow from stories in the public domain or how there are historical retellings and reinventions (Hamilton, anyone?).

I believe TWST has mentioned films based on their own stories and history before too, but purely in the animated sense rather than live action. In book 3, Ace and one of the Atlantica Museum guards talk about an animated movie based on the tale of the mermaid princess and her prince; this movie is said to have come out ~30 years ago, which corresponds with Disney’s animated The Little Mermaid. Ace compliments the movie’s soundtrack too way to stroke your own ego, Disney/j.

Later on in Tapis Rouge, the characters discuss other films based on the Great Seven, including one Queen of Hearts movie. A Sea Witch movie is also mentioned; in it, she “goes gigantic” and also sings as she brews potions. The Octatrio quite enjoy this particular film.

(Side note: Another anon once suggested to me that people probably also write fanfics of Neige and Vil since they’re celebrities… Think like “My mom sold me to One Direction?!” Wattpad kinds of fics, but replace One Direction with Vil or something. You can read those post here!)

It’s… interesting this event specifically has Vil promoting a live action adaption of an in-universe animated film about the Beautiful Queen—an animated film which was the first full-color animated movie AND it originally released close to 90 years ago. They also reference the funding issues that Disney suffered while producing Snow White + inviting bank employees in to preview the movie to acquire more investments, stating that the studio that made the animated Beautiful Queen experienced the same. The in-game live action is even slated to come out “NEXT YEAR”. They’re not being subtle here with TWST’s references to their own version of the irl Disney Snow White (the live action is coming out in 2025, the OG is also almost 90 years old, etc.). I wonder if the EN server will actually get Tapis Rouge around the time of the irl release of Disney’s live action Snow White as part of a promotional campaign? 😂

UPDATE: There are even more not-so-subtle references to Disney animations in part 4 of the event, including discussion of cel animation, rotoscoping, adding blush to the characters, and how Disney brought in real animals/observed the “real thing” to help with animating similar scenes or subjects. They also cheekily say that most animation nowadays is CG 💀

I know some books under Disney publishing try to show alternate tellings or show the villains in a more sympathetic light, but I don’t know that they would ever commit to fully animating a film like that. It definitely would not happen in the style of traditional animation, Disney no longer seems well-equipped to handle that task 😔 I feel like it would also be pretty niche or might not get overwhelming positive reception with recent audience calls for “true bad guys” instead of twist or sympathetic villains (though I’m not sure what percentage of people watching Disney actually have this opinion).

I do wonder how those “AU” films would work though…? It wouldn’t be as simple as suddenly turning the G7 into “good guys”. The scenario and other characters would also have to drastically change. TWST doesn’t necessarily make the original “good guys” “bad” in a world where the villains are historical figures; we still hear plenty of positive or neutral stories about the achievements of the mermaid princess and other Disney heroes.

There are also times when the same story diverges into multiple separate stories that seemingly have no connection to one another. For example, there is a story where a princess marries a street rat (clearly referencing Aladdin) and they live happily ever after in spite of the difference in their social statuses. However, there simultaneously exists a story in which the Sorcerer of the Sands saves a princess from being deceived by a fake prince (also referencing Aladdin). The same goes for the mermaid princess (Ariel)—there is both a story referring to a “mermaid princess” who married a human prince and also a different story (clearly still pulled from the same film) about a mermaid who made a deal with the Sea Witch to find true love but broke her contract in the end.

Very cool idea, just not sure where it would lead or it it’s feasible or worth it monetarily for Disney.

[desultory-novice]

"Evigheden"

"...I'm sorry..."

.

-

"...Hee! Noir, you smell kinda moldy." "Yeah? And now you're going to smell that way too."

"...Because I'm not letting you go for anything."

-

Sometimes, the collar is a metaphor...

-

[Apologies AU Masterpost]

Also sorry if the first panel is unclear. Adeleine isn't trying to clumsily remove the visor, she's reaching in to touch his face to let him know she's there, as Noir is blind and deaf in this particular form, outside of what information the petals take in and transmit to him. They can't recognize qualities of the voice, ie, that it is his beloved little sister, simply that "some" voice is talking to him. They are also what transmits his "voice" (more like a droll, ghosty monotone) outwards.

-

Anyway, I was revisiting some of my favorite fairy tales, including HC Andersen's "The Snow Queen" (where the title originates) when I realized just how well parts of that story fit Adeleine and Noir.

In seconds, I'd written up a fresh script and was drawing this. It's a little rushed/uneven because I pushed myself to finish as quick as possible so that this could be my official last art post before my surgery tomorrow, figuring it was a good note to leave things on.

Call it ~fairy tale magic~ (although I imagine this is set sometime AFTER the Dark Matter Trilogy rather than during. Perhaps after Zero's "favorite tool" was discovered to be broken beyond repair and with Zero itself destroyed, 02 and the rest of the Dark Matter cut him off from the hive and left him to starve to death in the ruins of Shiver Star, where Adeleine eventually discovers him after revisiting her journey with the others) ...but at least we've got x1 Noir saved now!

(...How many more to go...? ^^; )

-

Because I know you folks care about lore, drone-type or unhatched Dark Matter "feed" off energy provided from the Hive Queen and they will burn in the light without their queen's protection.

Main game Shiver Star is actually MANY years removed from the Shiver Star Adeleine and Noir grew up on. (Adeleine fell through a dimensional rift halfway off planet and wound up on Popstar YEARS later than she left. It's a...complicated...story I'll tell later, while Noir has been Dark Matter for much longer than it seems) So, in addition to there being no more people there, there is significantly less of the kind of light that harms Dark Matter. (Is it, in fact, DUE to the lack of living creatures on the planet?? Dun-dun-dun?!)

Speaking of lore: "Wasn't there a literal parasite inside this version of Noir?? Like, an eyeball in his chest? Is that just gone now?"

Fufufu...

It is not GONE, for no one goes through life without some consequences. Though it was starved into hibernation and made further dormant by ~the healing power of love~ Noir does retain some piece of Dark Matter living inside him. A creature inside that grows stronger feeding off his negative emotions. 

He will simply have to learn to control it instead of giving in.

...Just like the rest of us humans. ^_-

[bambiimutt]

I HAVE ANOTHER! Ur hcs are so good bro omg they are so well written 😭❤️ could I have father figure Tim to the edgy teens, but angst?

like for examples: the teen finds Tim having a panic attack and tries to comfort him even though they are bad at comforting, Tim finds out the teen is struggling with a lot, or maybe they have an argument or maybe the teen goes missing for a long time and finally the police finds them, etc👀

SORRY I love angst

Father figure Masky/Tim and teen troubles.

Helping Dad!Tim with understanding you, some angst, he lashes out,just a poor tired man trying to help his kid.

TW!! None I don’t think!

also this songs I feel goes with this.. just the vibes of it.. it really helped to write!

Tim huffed out as his hands used the spatula to stir the food in the pot for the dinner he’d plan to have. You promised him you’d have some father/kid time but as long as you got to go out with your friends. But that was five hours ago and you still have yet to be back.. you haven’t even messaged him. His head is hung low as he ate his food, your plate on the opposite end of the table yet your presence wasn’t there. He shouldn’t be so upset.. though he kinda bailed on for two weeks to do shit that he shouldn’t be doing.. so he can’t be mad at you but still he felt like shit. You promised him; but he still gives you your space and lets you come home whenever.

The trailer is quiet, the lights are dim within the living room as you step in, melting snow falling off of your boots as you slide them off. Your fingers rub through your coloured hair as you peek your head to look around where you could see. “Dad?” You called out maybe a bit too loudly for the quiet home that absorbed you. Your eyes still peered around as you fidget with the cold piercing on your lip, the further you walked into the trailer the more your nose picked up the smell of food. Kraft dinner. Your favourite. He usually makes this when.. ah shit. You completely forgot. You were meant to spend the day with him but you wanted to see your friends.

You quietly ate, figuring Tim had probably gone somewhere. It was cold yet you still ate it, it was the least you could do. Your head rest back in the old kitchen chair, your arms hugging your body around your flannel, damp jeans clinging to your legs due to the snow. It was. A little too quiet.

“Where were you.” You jump softly at the sudden voice, causing you to look up and see Tim walking towards the kitchen, pj pants and a white shirt. He looked like he hadn’t slept. He looked frantic but angry all at the same time. His hands reached for the cupboards, slamming them as he poured himself coffee, cringing at the gross taste. You look around, fingernails picking at the seems of your ripped jeans. “Out.” Was all you got out. You knew where this was going. Another lecture. “And where exactly is out.” He spoke back, keeping that same angered tone. He hadn’t said it like a question but more of a statement for you to answer. You swallow. ��With friends.” He breathed in before looking at you “yknow we were supposed to have our day today right? I planned everything out and you bail on me. I was okay with it for the first 4 hours but it’s now..” he looks to the clock on the stove. “Four in the morning. Do you know how worried I’ve been?!” He slams down his cup causing you to jolt again. The snow almost seems to fall more aggressively now. Something you picked up on as you stared out of the kitchen window to avoid eye contact. Funny how beautiful it could be but such angered moments could make things so sicking. The house suddenly seemed foul to you, the fairy lights you helped him put up suddenly became too bright, the food in your stomach suddenly twisted, the anger bubbled.. and bubbled. “Yeah well maybe if you never bailed on me, leave me for weeks on end without knowing where you go, I wouldn’t do this shit. Maybe I’d actually spend more time with you! I don’t even know who you are anymore!.” You finally stand, the strong legs that pushed you up feel shaky all of a sudden. That hurt. That.. tugged his chest in ways he didn’t like. Damn you. Damn you for making him feel what a father feels when they know they’ve failed. “That’s completely different-“

It’s not long before you’re grabbing your patched up coat and trying to rush out of the trailer door. But before you do, you look back. “Don’t say it. ‘I’m your father, it’s different’ news fucking flash Tim. You aren’t my dad. For a while I thought you were.. but you are exactly like him!” Oh dear.. he watches wide eyed as you walk out for house, door slammed behind you and your body running through the deep snow. He should be running after you, what is he doing just standing there?

The bench was. Not comfortable. The snow you wiped off of it had slowly started to cover the bench once more with new snow. Watching your breath turn into to fog put you into a trance, your body shivering as you watched it swirl within the wind. It wasn’t long before there was sirens and a man running towards you with two cops behind him. Arms immediately wrap around you, a blanket placed on your shoulders as the man helps you up. When your eyes flicker up, you see him. It’s Tim. Frantically helping you back to the car, thanking the cops behind him. Once he was in the car that silence itched back again. You stared out of the frosted window. “I shouldn’t have said what I said..” you state.

“It’s okay.” You both stare out of the window, Tim cranking the heat when he notices you shiver. “Do you hate me.” You question, your cracked lips softly frowning as you continue to stare, unblinking. It was quiet as he looks down, eyes closed. “No. No I don’t hate you kiddo.” You swallow before looking at him. “You’re still my dad.” He lets out a soft chuckle “still your dad.” You smile gently, your body finally warming up. “And you’re nothing like him.” His smile softly fades before looking back towards the window and starting up the car. “I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around” he covers it up with a laugh once more. There was an awkward silence for a moment. “Don’t do that again.” Tim speaks up. There’s a hint of a shaky tone, almost like he was tearing up but you wouldn’t pry. You understood why he was upset. “I won’t..”

“Or I’ll kick your ass” he laughs through his shaky voice and looks at you for a moment “love ya kid” he ruffles your hair before placing his hand back to the steering wheel and driving you both back home.

[nickeverdeen]

Warm Welcome | Viktor Hargreeves x fem!reader

Pairings: Viktor x reader (romantic), Luther x Viktor (family), Luther x reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Coming home from work has always been Viktor’s favourite part of it, but what happens when he comes home and sees a light suprise thanks to you?

——————

The door creaked open, letting in a swirl of December air as Viktor stepped into the apartment. The familiar scent of cinnamon and pine hit him first, a comforting contrast to the chill that clung to his jacket. He kicked off his boots, shaking snow from his hair before closing the door behind him.

“Hey, I’m home,” he called softly, his voice still a little hoarse from a long evening managing the bar.

“In here!” your voice floated from the living room, carrying an unmistakable cheer.

Viktor turned the corner and stopped short. There you were, standing at the coffee table, wearing an oversized Christmas sweater emblazoned with a cheerful snowman. A Santa hat perched lopsided on your head, and you were busy wrapping a gift, your tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

The room was lit with a warm, golden glow, strings of fairy lights draped across the walls and framing the windows. The soft croon of a Christmas song played in the background, blending with the sound of crinkling wrapping paper.

“…What is all this?” Viktor asked, his lips curving into a small smile as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

You looked up, your face lighting up when you saw him. “You’re back! It’s a little Christmas magic.”

“Magic?” he teased, stepping closer and nodding toward the table. “Looks more like a wrapping station exploded.”

“Ha, ha,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s organized chaos. I’m wrapping presents for your siblings for tomorrow.”

“Ah, of course,” Viktor said, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “And the hat?”

��Festive spirit,” you replied with a shrug, adjusting the fluffy brim of the Santa hat. “It suits me, right?”

“Absolutely,” Viktor said, his gaze lingering on you. There was something about the sight of you like this—comfortable, happy, surrounded by warmth—that made the weight of the day melt away.

You grinned, tugging at his hand. “Come on, sit with me for a bit. I could use some company while I finish this.”

He didn’t need much convincing. Viktor sat down beside you, leaning back against the couch while you worked on the gift in front of you.

“Who’s that one for?” he asked, gesturing at the oddly shaped package you were carefully wrapping.

“Luther,” you said, smirking. “It’s a puzzle of the solar system. I figured he’d appreciate the challenge.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “He’ll love it.”

For a while, the two of you sat together, the quiet hum of the music filling the space. Viktor reached for a stray piece of ribbon, idly twisting it around his fingers as he watched you work.

“Do you want to help?” you asked suddenly, glancing at him.

“Help?”

“Yeah. You can hand me the tape or, I don’t know, fold the edges down or something,” you said with a teasing smile.

Viktor raised an eyebrow but leaned forward anyway. “Alright, show me what to do.”

Under your patient (and slightly amused) instruction, he helped you finish wrapping the last few gifts. His folds weren’t perfect, and he used more tape than strictly necessary, but you didn’t seem to mind.

When the last present was wrapped and placed under the tiny tree in the corner, you sat back with a satisfied sigh.

“Mission accomplished,” you said, turning to Viktor. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice soft.

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Viktor wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as the music shifted to a slower, quieter tune.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “coming home to this… to you… It’s the best part of my day.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you tilted your head to look up at him. “Even better than the bar?”

“Not even close,” Viktor said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And as the two of you sat there, surrounded by twinkling lights and the faint scent of pine, it felt like the rest of the world could wait.

[sillyunknownkitkat]

Type of writing : headcanons and 2 small drabbles.

Plot: Phillip and his s/o preparing and celebrating Christmas.

Tw: kinda fem-ish reader but still gn, tooth rotting fluff, Phillip being bullied by kids, a bit of angst but full comfort here dw, reader has parents. uncanny fake death situation of Phillip, reader cries.

Definitely loves cuddles on the couch and watching a movie with the fire cracking in the background.

This man loves Christmas. It's not so much all of the traditions and stuff, just you being really happy about this and the cosy ambience that it brings.

Also, he forces the shadows to wear Santa's hats.

I think he has a pretty sweet tooth, so it's one of his favorite seasons because you make him hot chocolate with little marshmallows when he gets back from work.

If you want to see his eyes lit up, then bring him a Christmas market/festival. Phillip's eyes WILL light up like kids' ones.

Now let me tell you something. This blondie can't skate at all. It's really funny to see.

And that being said, he gets bullied by the kids on the ice rink.

Still would go again if it means that you're happy.

Now, I don't want to baby him because he is a grown man, but please throw a snowball at him. I promise you that it's going to be the best snowball fight ever.

If you have played until down, you know what I'm talking about, but if don't here is a video of the said scene

So I think he'd be more Mike-like, but tbh he could also be Jessica (I hope this makes sense). Also, you don't have to be a girl or anything for this exact interaction. He's just a bit cringe.

But that's okay, it's not a crime 😊

THIS.MAN.ALSO.LOVES.TO.DECORATE.YOUR.HOUSE !!!

I hcs he probably didn't really do anything for Christmas as a child.

It's supposed that he lived in South America, so it didn't really snow or anything. His parents didn't see the point in celebrating it.

Well no matter the reason that caused him to be "Christmas-starved", he still is.

I don't think he would go all out like you can see in some Christmas light contests, but he still puts quite the effort.

Inside the house, he would keep it pretty simple but with a good amount of things. Like fairy lights pretty much all around the house, whatever these are called in a banner like display, little Santa's, snowmans, ...

Now, to my favourite part, the drabbles ^^

1. Decorating your first Christmas tree together 🎄:

You moved him with him pretty early in the relationship. He justified it by saying something amongst the lines of "I work a lot, sweetheart. As sad as it is, I won't be here often. If things go south one day, I won't ever kick you out, don't worry. See it as you helping me around the house when I'm not there, and as a payment, you get a free roof over your head, yeah?"

When he just said it, you were kinda offended, but thinking back, he's not wrong. Plus, he doesn't force you to move faster in the relationship. It's just a win-win situation. Of course, he mostly proposed this because he loves you so damn much.

He never felt like that with another person. He swears (in his head) that you have to be his soulmate. How else could you guys fit so well together?

When December came close, he asked you if you would want to make a Christmas tree with him. You said yes, obviously.

You both went to get dressed in warmer clothes before going to the local Christmas market.

Hand in hand, walking and stopping every 30 seconds because one of you saw something that catched your eyes. You both probably went a little overboard with the stuff you got, but you wouldn't wish to go back in time to do otherwise. He was so freaking happy. It made you melt every time you looked at him and his big smile.

After a while, he asks you to go get a Christmas tree (pine?) before all of the good ones are gone. I don't think you would go in a "chop the one you want" type of thing, but in a more store like type of thing. He insisted you guys should get a real one instead of the plastic ones because even tho it makes a huge mess, it's more cosy to have a real one. Don't ask me how, but you got the most beautiful tree ever. It's a nice fresh green colour, not too tall but very large and fluffy.

Once both of you are happy with what you have, you go back to your shared house to actually decorate the said tree.

It starts with unloading the car, then putting everything in the living room and finally doing what you both waited for. Decorating.

You set the tree in the corner of the living room, not too far away from the chimney. He chose to start with the fluffy garland before the light ones and finally the little balls and bauble you got.

Finally, it's time to set the star on top of the tree, and you insist he does it. After all, it's his idea.

"Don't be silly, love. C'mere, I'll help you, " He says before making a come here motion with his hand. You do. He lifts you up by the waist, and you place it perfectly.

Once he puts you back down, you both walk a few steps back to admire your work. He gives you a side hug, and you could swear he's almost crying.

You take a picture of your tree and a selfie of the both of you as a souvenir of this amazing day you guys spent.

2. Spending Christmas together but discreetly.

After his fake death, he had to lay very low to avoid any suspicion. Which also means that this year, it would only be the both of you on Christmas.

You never spent Christmas without your parents, so this was really hard for you. Not only did you have to lie to everyone, saying things like what you were too sad to celebrate this year, that you weren't able to attend, ... but you also had to make they sad and worried.

Phillip knew that it was really upsetting you but didn't know what to do apart for apologizing for making you do all of that.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, you woke up quite early and sat on the couch in front of the tree. When you looked at him once more, you started crying. The worst thing is that you felt terrible to cry. Everything was doing better than it could've. Your lover was alive and well. You had anything you could possibly need.

And yet you still felt like garbage. Even more now that you were felling guilty from feeling this way.

Phillip woke up in an empty bed. Your side was still a bit warm, so he knew that you left the bed not too long ago. Usually, he would've woken up at you getting up, but he was exhausted. He stretched before lazily sliding in his slippers and going look after you.

When he got down the stairs, he saw you curled up with your knees to your chest on the couch. It broke his heart when he heard you quietly sob.

He instantly goes up to you and sits down on the couch before rubbing your back in a comforting manner.

"Hey... what's going on lovely?" He asks in a worried tone.

After taking a couple of deep breaths in and out, you explain the reason why you were crying. He carefully listens, holds your hand, and squeezes it from time to time to prove that he is listening to you.

Once you're done, he drags you in his harm to hold you and pet your hair.

"Oh, baby... I'm so sorry that we have to go through this. That I have to make you go through this. I promise you that everything will be okay, though. I love you so so so much. You can't even imagine. That's why I'm still very happy. I get to spend the holidays with you. The love of my life. I'm going to make sure that you spend an amazing Christmas 'kay? Do you trust me?"

You just nod against him, your voice being stuck in your throat from such sweet words.

"I love you too, Phil's, and of course I trust you," you say after a little while of being in this comfortable hold.

Sorry if this is really cheesy, I just am a sucker for lovey dovey stuff 😅

While Graves is not my favorite COD character at all, I can't lie and say that writing this didn't make me love him a bit more.

Also, I'm very sorry if he's ooc, I tried my best 🥹

I wish you a very merry Christmas and lovely holidays! 🍾☃️🎄

I hope you have a good day/night and that you're safe <3

I love you everyone!

[artist-issues]

it's really sad people will keep on defending the terrible little mermaid movie cause they wanna cry racism and other movies cause of crying racism. honestly I'm tired of it, the original little mermid is better, original snow white is better, everything orignal is better. but since disney want to get political, their stocks are failing and their losing money. disney is crashing and burning, they can't make anything original anymore.

Yeah, true.

I think the idea of "original is always better" isn't 100% true. The truth is, Disney used to do retellings better than anybody.

Snow White's original fairy tale, in the Brothers' Grimm version, is very good. It's all about pure innocence. But Disney came along and made a bigger, more fleshed-out version. In Disney's retelling, the Dwarves had personalities instead of being cave-dwelling blank slates, and the Prince actually met Snow White while she was dressed in rags and still loved her instead of seeing her asleep and dressed beautifully for the first time.

Those changes that Disney made to the "original" fairy tale for their movie didn't ruin the original. They just deepened the original. They complimented it.

Audiences back when the first fairy tale was being told may have understood that Snow White's beauty = purity and innocence, but Disney knew that audiences in the 1930s would need more information to understand, and enjoy that message. So

The Prince is interested in Snow White before be even knows she's a Princess, and before he even sees her beauty, because he hears her singing about love genuinely. It's her pure innocent love that attracts him.

The Dwarfs all have personalities, but the one thing they have in common is their fear of new, potentially uncomfortable things. It's not until Snow White and her genuine, selfless love comes into their lives that they start being selfless and brave, too.

The Queen dies the same way she lived: trying to bring harm to others because she only looks out for herself (even though in the original fairy tale I believe she faces capital punishment instead of her own jealousy destroying her.)

Same thing with Cinderella, and even with The Little Mermaid. The fairy tales weren't invented by Disney: the animated Disney versions were retellings. But that's the difference:

Retellings - Stories that change some details about the original, but never change anything that strengthens the important themes of the original. They're not exactly the same, but they're faithful to everything that the originals stood for.

Remakes - Stories that change the themes of the original: erasing everything that the original stood for and trying to re-write what the characters should stand for for modern audiences.

And that's the problem. Disney used to do faithful, complimentary retellings of timeless stories. Those stories were worthwhile, and Disney did them justice. Disney reminded modern audiences of the themes and values in old stories.

Now that's not true anymore. Disney doesn't remind people of the original, timeless values of old stories. It tries to rewrite those values, and in doing so, it says "those values were never timeless, or even fit to be called values."

That's the painful thing. Disney used to be the best name in retellings. Now it's the worst name in retellings.

[auphelia]

auphie!!! i am here as expected to ask about you and mr dottore’s pokémon teams 🌷✨ i’m not sure if you’ve spoken on it before but if not please feel free to tell me any lore & facts that you feel is vital to go alongside it HEH :] i am always excited to see what your brain comes up with?!

it's never something I've really given much thought, but it was a lot of fun to do o((>ω< ))o I'm going with my oc/self insert Celeste hehe :3

I think the following would be her team: Nihilego (shhhh let her have an ultra beast), Haunter, Espeon, Venomoth, Skorupi, and Shuppet

As a child, Celeste was gifted a Klink by her father but abandoned it when she left Fontaine.

The Shuppet was attracted by her negative emotions just before she left for Snezhnaya.

Dottore gifted her the Skorupi.

Celeste has studied the toxin produced by Nihilego intensively and has replicated and enhanced it. Nihilego will often ride around on Celeste's head without injecting any toxin, both of them seemingly enjoy it.

She prefers letting all of them roam around freely (Nihilego is only allowed in the lab without observation). Espeon and Haunter are always close by her side - to the point that Dottore has had to ask her to dismiss Haunter because it kept making faces and distracting him xD

As for Dottore's team... Mawile, Mimikyu, Corviknight, Glalie, Murkrow, Sneasel, (and a Snom)

They're all pretty unassuming xD

Celeste gave him a Snom because he absolutely despises having to clear snow from things and there are places he doesn't want to call for a subordinate to do it.

Sneasel, Murkrow, and Celeste's Venomoth make a terrible trio and have pulled heinous pranks on soldiers in the past.

Dottore loves his Corviknight dearly and has an entire little flock of Rookidee's that few know about. There's a dedicated segment to take care of them ><

Since childhood, he's really been obsessed with fairy types and has always wanted to catch an aranara (yeah they'd be pokemon lmao)