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milla-frenchy · 7 months ago

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Morning waves

3k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Frankie Morales | ao3

Summary: you meet two men who are on a road trip. You like the same things: the ocean, surfing, dancing and having fun

Warnings: 18+ mdni. threesome MFM, praise kink, fingering, public sex, oral (m/f), piv, dp, anal play, rimming, anal, spit as lube, creampies

No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to Jamie’s ocean challenge @mermaidgirl30 thank you for this great idea 👌🙏

I've wanted to write Frankie for a while, and even more so after reading “Down the hall” @frannyzooey 😍😍 and this challenge was perfect to introduce him as my new Pedro boy.

Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, for the ideas, and for holding my hand with this one, as always 💕 🫶

Masterlist

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The first rays of sunshine were already warming you through the windows of your car. You were driving towards the ocean, ready to enjoy its waves. Every morning, very early, you were going to your favorite surf spot. This morning like the others, a few other surfers were also present. Between each set, you were all waiting on your boards, straddling them, letting yourself be carried away by their calm movement.

“You’re impressive”, you heard behind you.

You turned around, and met the most beautiful, sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

“Frankie, another set is coming.” You didn't look at the man who had spoken, immediately turning your gaze towards the horizon and new waves that were forming. You surfed that set and a few more.

When you were returning to the beach, you saw the man called Frankie taking off his wetsuit. The man next to him was doing the same. They smiled at you, when you approached them.

“Hi! I’m Joel, and this is Frankie.”

“Hi, guys!”

“Nice waves!” Frankie’s smile was really sweet. And cute.

“Yeah! Where are you from? I’ve never seen you before. And with that drawl…Texas, I guess?”

Joel laughed and replied “yeah, Austin. We’re on a road trip. Coming from northern California, heading to the south. Are you from here?”

“Yeah, I live here. I’m on holidays, enjoying the ocean.”

“That’s great! Seems like heaven here. Do you know any cool bars? We’ve just arrived, and we’re gonna stay for some time in this place,” Frankie asked.

“Yeah, there’s ‘The lagoon’. I'm gonna be there around 6 p.m., if you wanna join me?

“Sure! We’ll see you there.”

You spent the evening with them at the bar. Frankie and Joel had been friends for a long time, they told you about their trip, their lives in Texas. Joel worked as a contractor and Frankie was an ex-military, doing jobs with Joel from time to time. They were nice, cool, and made you laugh a lot. They were not flirty nor pushy, and you felt good and safe in their company.

Joel had a certain self-confidence, and was more direct than Frankie. His brown hair was shorter. His smile was devastating. Every evening, when the three of you met again, he wore jeans and a blue or black T-shirt which accentuated his torso and biceps.

Frankie was a little shyer. His slightly longer hair called for your fingers with its brown curls. His eyes and smile were incredibly soft. He often wore lighter pants, gray or brown t-shirts. A cap that he only took off to surf. Both men were beautiful.

You spent the next evenings with them, dancing and drinking shots at The lagoon. Every day you looked forward to seeing them at the beach, then at the bar. They were doing pretty well at surfing, asking for some advice from time to time, and making great progress.

One night, the three of you were on the beach, hoping to catch some Northern Lights. And you weren't disappointed. The sky was colored with pink, purple and blue lights, while you were lying next to each other on the sand, a little closer than usual. And when Frankie kissed your forehead and Joel your cheek as you were lying on the blanket between them, you felt heat in your core. You saw them differently for the first time.

The Lagoon was crowded. You sat on a stool at the counter, sipping your cocktail until you saw Joel enter the bar. He smiled at you and you wondered how many hearts he had broken. He was so hot. He joined you, hugged you and said “hey, sweetheart” with his Texan drawl.

“Isn’t Frankie here?” you asked him.

“He should be soon. He went to get a tattoo.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah”, he laughed.

You two danced, his hands settled on your hips. Slightly more intimate than usual. He smelled good. He smelled like the sun and the beach. He ran his hand over your back, which your summer dress barely covered. And when your eyes met, something was different.

You walked back to the counter, and he was smiling as he was drinking his beer. His eyes were fixed on you.

“What?” You asked him, smiling too.

“You’re damn pretty, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened slightly, hearing him. It was the first time he told you something like that. So directly. Even though last night, on the beach, the atmosphere was different between the three of you. Even though two minutes ago, when you were dancing, you felt the warmth of his fingers on your skin, and your hair stood up from the desire for him.

He waited for a few seconds, checking on your reaction. Took another sip. When he saw you smile at him again, he leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hand resting on your waist. You felt goosebumps again. Some electricity between you. And you saw in his eyes that he was feeling the same thing.

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

You felt heat reach your cheeks but you nodded and murmured, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He got up, stood between your knees while you were still sitting on the stool, and leaned forward to kiss you. You felt your heart rate speed up. He placed his hands on your bare thighs and caressed them, slightly pushing the fabric up, as you ran your fingers over his biceps. Then he slipped one hand between your legs. Slowly. Stroking your inner thigh. You whimpered when his fingers brushed against your pussy through your panties.

“You want more, darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel...”

“You gonna let me finger you in here?” he asked, his cheek against yours. His soft beard against your skin.

“Yeah…”

He slid your panties to the side, and his fingers brushed against your folds, making you moan into his neck. He looked up and said, “hey, Frankie.”

You felt shy and tightened your thighs against his legs. He kissed your cheek then said in your ear, on the side where Frankie was standing to make sure he would hear “I’m sure he’d love to touch you too,” before looking back at you. His fingers were still brushing against your delicate skin, and you really wanted to feel him more. To calm the fire, burning you from the inside.

You looked at him, then turned your head towards Frankie. His stare was still soft, but not only. You saw the desire for you in his eyes.

“Do it Frankie”, you told him. At that moment you didn't care about anything else anymore. The crowded bar. The people who could see you, and wonder what the three of you were doing. Or knowing too well what you were doing.

“Are you wet, baby?” Frankie asked.

You nodded and whined, the second Joel pushed a finger in your core.

“She’s soaked”, Joel said, nuzzling your neck, and you bit your lip.

“Damn, baby,” Frankie moved closer, the two men now standing in front of you. When one of Frankie's fingers joined Joel's in your pussy, your fists clenched their shirts. One of them stroked your clit with his thumb, but you didn’t know who. It turned you on even more. Their fingers slid into your wetness, pumping your pussy at the same rhythm, and you tried to hold back your moans even if it was getting more and more difficult.

“You're gonna come for us?” You shook your head “I…I can’t. Not here. Too many people.”

“Forget about them. Soak our fingers, baby. And then we’ll have some time together in our van if you want.”

“Yeah…Yes. Fuck.” You felt their eyes fixed on you. They were close to you, so close, protecting you from the eyes of others. Your pussy tightened around their fingers and you were trembling more and more. You felt another thumb near your clit that soon replaced the other one, and whimpered. Your pussy was trickling, and they could have pushed more fingers in easily.

“Come for us, sweetheart. Right here, in this bar. God, you’re fucking hot.”

You bit your lip as you came on their fingers, your pussy clenching desperately on them. They kept fingering you through it, until one of them put your panties back in place, then your dress. You watched Joel lick his finger with a look full of desire, and your arousal increased even more.

“Take me to your van, please. I need…I need more”, you breathed.

Frankie kissed your cheek, and Joel placed his hand on the small of your back as you got off the stool. Your legs were shaky and he held your elbow until you reached the parking lot then the van. Frankie offered to come to the back with him, on the mattress that they had already set up for the night, without knowing how it would end. You both lay there as Joel started driving. You didn't know where and right now you didn't care. Frankie was already leaning towards you, kissing your cheek then your neck. Your fingers ran through his soft curls. His hand rested against your face at first, then he brought it to his mouth. Licking the finger you had come on, just as Joel had done a few minutes before.

“Damn baby, you taste so good. Can I go down on you?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“Fuck…Ok.”

The van was swaying on a bumpy road when Frankie knelt between your thighs, and took off your dress, then your panties. He brought them to his nose and breathed them slowly, keeping his eyes on you, and the vision was intoxicating. The way they wanted you was driving you crazy. He turned the front of his cap backwards, and lay down between your thighs. He growled as he licked a long stripe between your folds.

“Jesus Christ, Frankie…you lucky bastard”, Joel said.

Frankie was already lapping at your pussy, and he was good at it. So good that you already felt a new orgasm building, while he was drinking all your wetness, his thumb twirling on your clit.

“Frankie…oh my god”, you whimpered.

You heard Joel unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. “You’re so hot that Joel can’t help fisting his cock while driving, baby” he said, before licking your folds again.

“Fuck, of course I do. All these moans are killing me. How does she taste? Tell me.”

“The sweetest taste, man...” He grabbed your thighs to pull you closer to him. As if he wanted more, always more, and you couldn’t stop moaning.

“Jesus...” Joel growled, as you heard the sound of his wrist fucking his cock.

Your fingers were lost in Frankie’s brown curls, while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit and his tongue roamed your pussy.

“Frankie…”

“Yeah baby, tell me.”

“Your fingers, please, need your fingers.”

“Like this, mmm?” he asked, pushing two fingers in you.

“Yeah…your tongue too, please.”

His lips surrounded your clit, sucking gently, before giving way to his tongue. His wrist gently pumped your pussy and you felt your wetness running down your folds to the sheets.

“Fuck, baby…I can hear the pretty little noises of your pussy from here, you’re so fucking wet.”

“I know, I know, oh my god, Frankie!” You squeezed his head between your thighs when you came, letting him lick your folds until you stopped shaking. The van's engine was off, but you didn't realize you had stopped. You heard the sound of the waves as Joel opened his door to join you in the back.

“Fuck sweetheart, look at that… he ate you good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah…fuck”, you breathed out.

Frankie shifted aside slightly and Joel lay down, his shoulders between your knees. He caressed your folded thighs, and delicately licked your wetness, being careful not to stimulate your overly sensitive clit.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. Lemme eat ya just a little, ok? “ he said, moving his hand up your sweaty stomach, to a breast that he grabbed. Frankie kissed your thigh, while he caressed your other breast. You moaned again, your stomach rising rapidly with your heavy breathing. Joel’s beard rubbed against your inner thighs. He ran his tongue flat through your folds, sometimes down to your tight ring. Before going back up again, tirelessly. You imagined their hard cocks and you couldn’t wait to feel them in you.

“You want us to fuck you, baby?”

You nodded, “yeah, need your cocks.”

“Damn, could do this for hours. How do you want us?”

“I huh… I don’t know, I’ve never done that…with two men.”

They looked at each other then Frankie said “we’re gonna undress and we’ll see how it goes, ok?”

“Yeah, seems good.”

“If you’re not comfortable with something, you tell us right away, ok? We’re all here to have fun. Ok, darlin’?”

You nodded and smiled. They were so considerate and careful with you. You helped Frankie unzip his pants and take them off, then his boxers, and held your breath when you saw his cock. “We’ll go slow, baby”. “We?” You widened your eyes and turned to Joel, already in his underwear, taking off his t-shirt. “Oh fuck”, you said when you saw his bulge. You brushed his crotch and he spread his thighs wider. He was so hard, and so big too. You whispered “fuck...” again, before getting on all fours, facing him. You took his cock out of his boxers, the precum glistening on his red tip. You spread it with your thumb and jerked his cock, while Frankie was caressing the roundness of your buttocks, kneeling behind you. You licked the tip, letting Joel’s taste run down your mouth and then your throat.

“You’re ready for me, baby?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

He nestled his cock at your entrance, pushing in. You whined when he thrust deeper, gripping your hips as leverage. And for a minute you didn’t move, Joel’s cock in your hand, catching your breath. Frankie kept thrusting until he bottomed out. Pushing on your walls. And you started to suck Joel’s cock, his hands on your head, but letting you lead the pace.

You moved your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on Frankie’s cock. He wasn’t moving, letting you lead too. Your mouth on Joel’s shaft followed the movement of your hips at the same pace as you impaled yourself on the cock, piercing you.

“Fuck, fuck. Sucking me so good.”

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. So good for my cock.” You loved how they were praising you. Frankie’s hands roamed your body. Your back, your waist, your hips, as your thumbs caressed Joel’s balls, your head still bobbing on his shaft, your lips gradually getting used to his size.

You pulled him out of your mouth and licked his tip, looking at him you asked, “Frankie, will you let Joel fuck me?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

You lay on your back, inviting Joel to come between your thighs. He lay there, his cock in his hand, and pushed in. Frankie lay against you, and turned your face towards him. Kissing you as Joel thrust in.

“Damn, sweetheart…Frankie was right, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so hard, fuck…”

You whined in Frankie’s mouth while Joel was kissing your neck. He thrust in slowly before pulling back. Repeating the movement endlessly, while your legs spread wide gave him full access. Frankie leaned down and took one of your breasts in his hand, sucking on the nipple, his lips wrapped around it. Joel gave you a forehead kiss, his thick cock buried in you. Sometimes Frankie would slide his hand up to your clit, rubbing it lightly, and your pussy would contract on Joel's cock, making him groan. Their mouths and hands were brushing your skin constantly.

They took turns between your legs, drawing two new orgasms out of you. Seeing them, feeling them fucking you, one then the other, was turning you on desperately and your pussy was weeping. When one of them was kissing you, searching for your tongue with his, the other was kissing your neck, your cheek, sucking a nipple. You loved feeling their mouths on you at the same time.

They fucked you, one then the other, and they never seemed to get tired, filling your pussy perfectly each in their own way. Until you wanted more, and needed more.

“More? Tell us what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you both…at the same time.”

“Oh, baby. You want our two cocks filling your two holes?” said Frankie, his cock buried in your cunt.

“Yeah, I’d like to try…”

“It’s ok, baby. We’ll go slow.”

“Yeah. Frankie?”

Frankie nodded, pulling out of you.

“Get on me, sweetheart.”

Joel lay on his back and you straddled him, grabbing his cock and sinking on it. You brushed his cheek and kissed him, before pressing your chest against his, giving free access to Frankie.

He spread your buttocks, your ring was glistening by the wetness that had been flowing there continuously. He passed his thumb slowly, lingering very lightly over it, as you rolled your pelvis slowly towards Joel. Then Frankie leaned down and started to lick it, pointing his tongue against your tight muscle. His hands now gripping your ass, he softened it under the tip of his tongue. Sometimes dropping his saliva on it, and lightly pushing his thumb in. Then a little deeper. He did it patiently, taking his time to prepare you. He was feeling his cock twitching. Your head resting on Joel's shoulder, you were moaning continuously, overwhelmed by the cock in your pussy, and the tongue opening you little by little. They were so hot, they took care of you so well since the start of the evening at the Lagoon. Attentive to your desires, to your reactions. Slightly changing the pace or position depending on your respiration, the pressure of your hands.

Eventually, Frankie pulled away. “You still want it, baby?”

“Yes, yes. Just…go slow, please, Frankie.”

“Of course. Lemme wet my cock in her pussy a little, Joel”, he asked. You pulled away from Joel slightly and he pulled out, his cock rubbing against your clit. Frankie pushed his cock easily in your dripping pussy, fucking it with one hand on your hip, and his thumb on your ass. Joel placed his hand on your neck, his forehead against yours, and murmured “you gonna take us both, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yeah…Yeah, I’m gonna take you both, oh my god I can’t believe it’s happening…”

Franck grabbed his cock in his hand, and positioned it against your ring.

“Kiss me, sweetheart”, Joel muttured, stroking your hair. You looked up at him, his hands cupping your cheeks before coming to press his lips to yours. Quickly, his tongue sought yours, just as Frankie pushed in. You felt the muscle resisting at first, then gradually giving up. You whined in Joel’s mouth, his tongue never stopping brushing yours. You knew he wanted to make you forget the pain. Then he nibbled one of your lips, before licking it. Kissing you again. Until Frankie bottomed out, his balls against Joel's cock. He didn't stay buried and pulled back as slowly, before thrusting in again.

“Oh, fuck. Baby…it’s so good, fuck…”

“I can feel your cock Frankie, damn…are you ok, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Overwhelmed by all these emotions you were feeling. Your body was in the middle of theirs, and you felt fulfilled. Their hands were all over your upper body. Frankie’s mouth placed a thousand kisses on your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. Joel's hands caressed your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You heard them grunt and moan, in turn or together. You felt a new orgasm building, from rubbing your clit against Joel's lower abdomen.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come”, you whined.

“Come on baby, come again. Fuck, your ass is so good, baby.”

“Come on our cocks, sweetheart. Then we’ll fill you up. We’ll fill that pussy and that ass.”

“Oh fuck”, you whimpered, coming on their cocks, clenching them. You wondered if you hadn’t fainted, for a moment.

You heard Frankie growling, and Joel calling you a “good girl”, just before he pulsed as deep as possible in you, followed by Frankie.

You all froze, panting. Catching your breath. Then Frankie pulled back, placing one last kiss on your back. You pulled away from Joel after kissing him, and you lay against him. Frankie lay against you on the other side, spooning you, his hand on your hip. Their cum flowing from both of your sore holes.

You slept there, sometimes waking up during the night, feeling their bodies against yours or their arms around you. Snuggling against one of them then the other.

When the rays of the sun woke the three of you and Frankie opened the van door, you had a direct view of the ocean. Its color was perfect. The most beautiful blue. And also these pastel, pink colors of the sky, at dawn.

You spent the day with them. You surfed, took photos. Frankie’s freshly tattooed forearm with the word “adventure.” You looked at them so many times during that day. And every time your eyes met, you all blushed and giggled, thinking about the night you had spent.

You returned to the Lagoon, and didn't leave them until they finally gave up on the idea of going all the way to Southern California. They called you “our girl”. Their hands, tongues and cocks roaming every inch of your body, just as yours on theirs. They stayed with you until they had to return to Texas.

The day before, Frankie went to get another tattoo. Joel told you Frankie always got one at every place they visit, a tattoo of the best thing there. He showed it to you when he came back: a surfboard with your name on it. You hugged him so tight that he could barely breathe and couldn’t stop laughing, squeezed by your arms.

At the airport, they held you until the last minute. And your heart sank when they left.

A few months later, you were sitting at the same airport. Ready to board for Austin. So that they, in turn, could introduce you to their lives.

You looked at the sun through the large windows of the airport, and smiled. Life offers good surprises sometimes. Yours was Joel and Frankie.

Thank you for reading 🙏

***************

another Joel/reader/Frankie fic (different AU): Morning waves

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demensrage · 3 months ago

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a for ass appreciation ⚊ •. with itadori yuji

summary: a relaxing moment on the beach makes your boyfriend unable to keep it in his pants. that cute ass of yours deserves to be appreciated by him in every possible way.

cw: dom!yuji, sub!reader, hair pulling, spanking, orgasm denial, dirty talk, doggy style, oral (f. receiving), slight exhibitionism, unprotected, creampie.

wordcount: 6.3k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

Life as a jujutsu sorcerer can be very exhausting, especially when a great responsibility falls on your husband's shoulders. Time to relax was limited, as if the world aligned itself to fill you both with things to do and keep you apart from each other, but that day was different. Both of you found a way to make your next outing work, and there you were, on your way to the beach.

Traffic was light, and the road was pleasant, you hummed along to a song playing on the radio, all to cheer up your husband. Being the passenger princess was never a bother, you saved yourself the stress of being behind the wheel. Especially with your aggressive streak, no driver was safe from your insults through the window.

Yuji preferred to take care of that task rather than having to resort to violence when someone dared to threaten you. Obviously, no one was a match for your husband's strength, which is why you insulted freely. You had a bodyguard for free.

Things could work more or less in your favor until you arrived and couldn't find a spot to park the car. That's when your husband took his turn to get angry, he hated with all his might not being able to find a parking spot. Cursing over and over at every living being, he skillfully maneuvered between the cars that blocked his way on the street, and seeing that life presented him with a new opportunity, he decided to take it.

Accelerating as if his life depended on it, he skillfully manipulated the wheel, fitting the car into the last available space, blocking the driver in front in the process. You were about to explode with excitement. "Ah, I can already feel the waves hitting my body!" you shouted as you quickly freed yourself from the seatbelt.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you imagined the sea in front of you, the salty waves caressing your skin. "You can't wait, can you?" Yuji said, with a smile that showed how much he enjoyed seeing you so excited. He watched you with a smile that showed how much he enjoyed seeing you so excited. He observed you for a moment longer before unbuckling his own seatbelt.

"Who could wait?" you replied, opening the door so quickly that you almost tripped as you got out. You felt the sun's warmth kiss your skin and the unmistakable scent of the ocean in the air. Your whole body buzzed with energy, as if the sea was already calling you to its fresh, salty embrace.

Yuji got out of the car more calmly, watching you as you raised your arms to the sky, as if you wanted to capture it all. Your light laughter mixed with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance against the rocks, and he felt that there was no other place in the world he'd rather be than here, with you.

"What are you doing? Come on! The water is waiting for us," you said, turning towards him with a wide smile that sped up his heartbeat. Your husband let out a small laugh, walking towards you. "I was just thinking that I'm the luckiest man in the world." He murmured as he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He looked into your eyes, and for an instant, the rush to get to the sea faded away. His fingers danced along your sides before giving you a playful squeeze on the ass. You shivered at the unexpected touch of his hands on your body as the playful tension filled the air between you two. His innocent smile fooled no one, least of all you, who knew that mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What was that?" you asked, though an amused smile was already forming on your lips. Yuji shrugged, feigning innocence, but the way his hands continued their caresses on your ass betrayed his intentions.

"Who, me?" he asked with a soft laugh, moving closer, his breath grazing your neck. His fingers played with the edge of your miniskirt, as if exploring every inch of your skin with a deliberately slow touch.

The way he pretended nothing was happening while only a thin piece of fabric separated him from your juicy ass was downright shameless on his part. "You know exactly what you're doing," you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his, but not quite touching. The tension between you both grew, the calm before the storm.

He leaned in a little more, his warm breath brushing your ear. "Hmm, maybe," he hummed, leaving short kisses along your cheek, deliberately stopping just before reaching your lips. "Am I not allowed to touch my wife?"

One more heartbeat, and his hands dropped any pretense of innocence, squeezing firmly and confidently, while his lips finally found yours in a deep kiss, igniting the desire between you with the same intensity as the waves crashing against the shore.

Yuji swallowed hard as he saw you standing in front of him, wearing that tiny bikini, a sight that ignited a spark in his chest. It wasn’t just the ocean raising the temperature; it was the way the swimsuit clung to your body, leaving very little to the imagination. When you turned around and handed him the sunscreen, biting your lip with a playful smile, he knew this was going to be a challenge.

“Could you help me with this? I don’t want to burn my back,” you said in an innocent tone, though your eyes were saying something else.

Yuji nodded slowly, feeling his heart race as his thoughts drifted to those intimate moments you two shared, where the simple touch of your skin under his hands made the world disappear. He squeezed the bottle of sunscreen a little too hard, some spilling into his hand, but all he could think about was how his fingers had traced every inch of your body so many times before. Especially your ass.

As his hands slid down your bare back, warm and soft under his touch, memories of those nights when you had been completely at his mercy flooded his mind. The way you arched your back when he held you by the waist, how his grip tightened around your hips, and especially how your soft moans filled the room when his hands finally caressed your ass.

He closed his eyes for a second, his fingers now lingering more than necessary under the excuse of applying the sunscreen. His palms stopped on your sides, barely brushing your hips before sliding more deliberately toward your ass. The warm skin under his hands only fueled his thoughts, reminding him of how perfectly you fit between his arms and how your body always responded to his.

“Yuji...” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, though he couldn’t stop the sly grin from forming on his face. “Yes?” he replied, unable to resist giving your ass a soft squeeze, casual but filled with desire.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you asked, turning your head slightly, giving him a knowing look that made it clear you weren’t bothered at all.

He leaned closer, his hands now sliding gently across your lower back as if he were marking his territory. “Just… making sure you’re well protected from the sun,” he whispered, though you both knew that was the last thing on his mind at that moment.

The heat between you was becoming more tangible than the sun’s warmth. Without worrying too much about who might be watching, you pressed your ass against his hips, grinding against him.

The soft friction of your ass against his hips lit something inside Yuji. A low, nearly inaudible groan escaped his lips as his hands, now far from timid, gripped your hips, guiding you to move just the way he knew you both wanted. That little smile on your face, the way you were teasing him, it drove him wild, and he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

You knew exactly what you were doing. After all, how many times had you felt his eyes on you whenever you moved just a bit too much, as if your ass was his weakness? He couldn’t resist, and you loved to play with that. You knew he adored you completely, but that part of you… it felt like it was his obsession. Every squeeze, every playful slap, every teasing kiss he planted there, as if he couldn’t resist the temptation of feeling it under his hands.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Yuji murmured, his voice rough with desire as he pressed his body against yours, making sure you felt just how much he wanted you.

Without stopping, you moved a little more, pushing back, enjoying the heat of his body against yours. “I just wanted to thank you for being such a good husband,” you answered with fake innocence, though the way your body moved said the opposite, leaving no doubt about your intentions.

Yuji let out a short laugh, bringing his lips to your neck, giving you a soft bite that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you keep this up... we won’t be able to wait until we get home,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew that was a promise more than a warning.

Yuji let out a frustrated but amused sigh when you pulled away from him, leaving him with a grin and a look that promised payback. He knew you were torturing him on purpose, and though he enjoyed it, that spark of challenge in your eyes only made him want you more. He noticed how your gaze briefly shifted to the evident bulge forming in his swim trunks, and your cheeky smile made it clear: you were playing by your own rules.

“Are you really going to leave me like this?” he said, raising an eyebrow, though his tone was thick with anticipation. He watched as you walked toward the water, your hips swaying with that natural grace that always drove him crazy.

“We should enjoy the water,” you responded with an innocent smile, though you both knew what was really happening between you. “We have a lot to do here,” you added, giving him one last mischievous glance before running toward the ocean.

Yuji shook his head, letting out a small laugh as he stood there for a moment, watching you as you dove into the water. He took a second to breathe, trying to calm himself, though his thoughts continued to revolve around you, around how effortlessly your body drew him in. He knew he’d return the favor soon, that this game had only just begun.

The cool water wrapped around your body when, suddenly, you felt Yuji’s firm hands sliding under your ass. With a swift movement, he lifted you easily, and the air left your lips in a small gasp of surprise. Instinctively, you placed your hands on his shoulders, seeking balance as your legs moved to wrap around his waist. The water surrounded you, but the feeling of his hands on your skin, squeezing with desire, made everything feel much warmer.

Your thighs tightened around him as his hands, now firmly gripping your thighs, slid up to cup your ass possessively. His fingers dug into your skin, sending a rush of heat through your entire body. The contact, though wet, was undeniably intimate. He held you close, so close that your bodies were barely separated by the thin barrier of the water.

“You’ve always been my favorite part,” Yuji murmured, his voice rough, vibrating against your ear. His eyes, darkened with desire, looked at you with that intensity only he could offer. The tension between you, now palpable even in the calmness of the ocean, made you feel trapped, but in the best possible way.

Your hands tightened on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin even through the sea breeze. “Really?” you asked playfully, though you already knew the answer. You had seen it in every glance, in every touch. And now, with your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands gripping you tightly, that truth felt more evident than ever.

“Always,” he replied, his lips brushing your neck before giving you a soft bite, as if he couldn’t wait to have more of you.

You felt it deeply, the warmth of his body mingling with yours as you gasped, each breath becoming more labored. The moisture from the water made the bikini cling to your skin, molding to your folds, making every movement feel more intense. Your body responded to his proximity, the excitement beginning to emanate from you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently to pull him away from your neck, though deep down you knew you were doing it purely to provoke him. “They can see us,” you said, your cheeks burning, not just from the sun but from the intense attention he was giving you.

He grinned wickedly, his eyes full of mischief as he looked at you. “You weren’t thinking about that when you were rubbing your ass against my cock,” he replied, his voice thick with desire, as if every word was a challenge.

The way he said it, the confidence in his voice sent a chill down your spine. "Maybe not," you admitted, feeling adrenaline surge through you, both from the risk and the lust. "But now I'm realizing..."

"And that turns you on?" he asked, sliding his hands over your body, making every touch send electric currents through you.

What you were about to respond got caught in your throat as his lips pressed against your breast, sucking in an open-mouthed kiss that made you throw your head back. The combination of pleasure and surprise left you breathless, and an involuntary moan escaped your lips.

"Let's go to the car," Yuji said, his voice a whisper thick with desire. Then, he gave a gentle bite to your nipple through the fabric of your bikini, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

The outside world faded away for a moment, and it was just him and the growing desire between you. "Now?" you asked, amid nervous laughter and anticipation, feeling urgency consume everything.

The way he looked at you, his pupils dilated with desire, made it clear that there was no time for stupid questions. You didn’t need further explanations; it was obvious he wanted to fuck you right then and there. The intensity of his gaze spoke more than a thousand words, and your body responded to that promise of pleasure.

The car door slams shut with a loud thud. Yuji locks the doors before crashing his mouth against yours, kissing you with hunger. His kisses are wet and messy, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands slide down your thighs, lifting them over his hips.

The back seat is the perfect place for this moment. He hurriedly yanks off your bikini top, leaving your breasts exposed. His lips trail down your neck, biting and marking you, every movement full of desire. His breathing quickens as his hands explore your skin, searching for more, wanting to touch you everywhere.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on you. “I can't wait anymore.” He pushes you down against the seat, his mouth moving down your breast, his hot breath on your skin. “I want you to feel every part of me. You're mine, aren't you?”

You feel the wetness between your legs grow with every touch, each caress a possessive claim that ignites something primal in you. His skilled hands untie your panties, throwing them somewhere in the car. You feel completely exposed, a mix of vulnerability and raw desire crashing in your chest.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and dominant. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you respond, heat surging through your body.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers sliding down your skin, teasing your folds. His touch is firm, deliberate, and it makes you gasp. “I want you to let go. Let me make you feel everything you crave.”

His fingers are slick with your wetness, sliding easily as he circles your swollen clit with slow, consistent motions. Your back arches, your hips lifting, desperate for more of his touch.

“So needy for me,” he mutters, running his tongue over your nipple before sucking it, swirling his tongue around it. His hand moves lower, exploring every inch of you, a mix of pleasure and anticipation building. “You like what you feel?” he asks, his dark eyes hungry. “You want more?”

You nod, and he grins with satisfaction. “I’m going to fuck you until you can't take anymore,” he murmurs, and you can feel his desire pulsating in the air. “Until you leave everything on my cock.”

His fingers sink into you, slowly pumping in and out. The air inside the car grows thicker, your ragged breathing filling the cramped space. Yuji’s mouth moves lower, trailing wet kisses down your exposed stomach. His strong hands keep your legs spread wide as he watches you with a wicked grin, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You look so beautiful like this... completely mine,” he whispers before lowering his mouth to where you need him the most. You feel his hot breath against your core, the anticipation making you shiver.

Without warning, his tongue brushes against you, sliding over your skin with a precision that makes your back arch. The first contact is slow, almost tender, but full of intent. Yuji knows exactly what he's doing, his movements calculated and controlled. His lips and tongue explore every inch of you, tasting you, savoring every moan that escapes your lips.

“I want to hear everything. Don’t hold back,” he murmurs against you, the sound of his voice vibrating through your skin, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Every time his tongue finds that perfect spot, you feel your entire body tighten, the pleasure building with every stroke.

You grip his hair, searching for something to anchor yourself as he picks up the pace, his tongue moving more forcefully, each lick deeper and more precise than the last. “Tell me what you want,” he demands, lifting his head slightly, his dark eyes full of desire.

“Please, don’t stop,” you manage to murmur, the need in your voice palpable. You grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him harder against your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. The sound of his licks, the way he sucks your clit, and his tongue working in tandem with his fingers to fuck your cunt—all of it in perfect harmony—is enough to make your eyes roll back as loud moans escape your throat.

You're on the edge, your body tensing, moans spilling from your mouth uncontrollably. Yuji's tongue keeps tracing expert patterns, each touch a new push towards the brink. You can feel the orgasm building inside you, threatening to overwhelm, when suddenly, he stops.

The pleasure Yuji has denied you turns into a torrent of frustration, an unbearable heat burning you from the inside out. Moans slip past your lips uncontrollably, mixing with desperate whimpers you can't hold back. You squirm beneath him, but his firm grip on your hips keeps you pinned in place, and the feeling of helplessness consumes you.

“Yuji, please...” you beg, your words nearly broken by gasps. “Don’t do this to me... I need to cum, please.”

“You thought I’d let you cum that quickly?” he murmurs, his voice thick, dragging out the words with a mix of control and lust. “Not yet. Not without my permission.”

Your hips seek out more contact, more friction, but he just watches with a malicious grin, delighting in your desperation. “Look at you begging,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing as his fingers trail slowly over your skin. “You're completely desperate, aren’t you? Is this how you like it, being controlled?”

He leans down again, placing a small kiss between your legs, almost mocking you, watching you savor the frustration. His fingers glide over your skin, brushing your most sensitive spot but never applying enough pressure. It's as if he’s reveling in the power he holds over you, knowing he has you exactly where he wants.

“I know you want it,” he whispers, his hot breath against you, “but you're going to have to beg for it, and you’re going to have to be very, very good.”

His words wrap around you, pulling more moans from deep inside, this time louder, more desperate. Your body moves on its own, searching for relief, but Yuji simply shakes his head and grips you tighter. “Not so fast, princess,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth back to your center, but only enough to tease, his tongue brushing against your skin without giving you the satisfaction you crave.

Frustration turns into a desperate whimper, your breathing coming in broken sobs of pure desire. “Yuji, please!” you cry, your voice cracking. “I can’t take it anymore... please!”

But he takes his time, stopping again just as you're about to break. Your protests are drowned in a deep moan when he leaves you on the edge once more without letting you fall. “You sound so pretty when you cry for me,” he says with a wicked grin, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Tell me what you are, and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

“Please...” you manage to whisper, your voice almost a choked breath of need. “Please, Yuji, I need...”

“That’s not enough,” he interrupts, stopping completely, and the emptiness he leaves behind makes you tremble in frustration. “Say it like you should. Tell me exactly what it is you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

Your breathing is ragged, your thoughts scrambled by the need and desire that consumes you. You know he’s not going to let you climax until you do, until you submit completely to his will.

“Please let me cum,” you say at last, almost panting. “Please, Yuji… I need you to make me cum.”

Yuji lets out a low, dark chuckle as he runs his tongue slowly over your dripping pussy once more, firmer this time, deeper. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he murmurs before plunging back in completely, his tongue working with precision as he keeps you right on that edge that drives you crazy.

You moans become louder, whimpers broken by the need for release. “You like this, huh?” He growls against you, his voice vibrating in every corner of your body. “Do you like it when I make you suffer a little before I give you what you want?”

Every word he says pushes you further than you thought possible. You feel the knot inside you grow ever larger, almost painful from so much pent-up pleasure. Yuji speeds up, his tongue moving faster, harder, not stopping this time.

“You’re going to cum only when I say so,” he says harshly between licks. “Not before. Understand?”

“Yes, yes…” you sob, tears pooling in your eyes from the intensity of it all. “Please… let me cum!”

Yuji doesn’t respond with words this time, he just quickens his pace, his tongue working mercilessly until you feel like you can’t take it anymore. And then, at the last moment, when you’re completely on the edge, his low, commanding voice gives you the permission you so desperately need. “Now. Cum for me.”

Your body shakes violently with the orgasm washing over you, legs shaking uncontrollably as Yuji takes you over the edge. You cry out his name, the sounds leaving your throat a mix of relief and pure pleasure, your hips thrusting into him, seeking more as your body collapses under the intensity of it all.

But he gives you no rest. You’ve barely caught your breath when he grabs your hips firmly, lifting you up from the backseat. He flips you over quickly, positioning you on your knees, your face turned towards the car window. You can see the faint reflection of your face, flushed and panting, and the thought of being exposed turns you on even more.

Yuji pulls his pants down in one fell swoop, letting them fall carelessly close to you. The thought of what’s coming makes you shiver in anticipation, your body still hypersensitive after the orgasm, but hungry for more. He takes his time, caressing your exposed skin, his gaze fixed on you, admiring how you're completely open and vulnerable in front of him.

"You see that?" he murmurs, his deep voice echoing in your ear as he leans over you, his warm body pressing against yours. "They just have to squint against the window a little and they'll see how much fun we're having. That's what you want, right?"

The thought alone turns you on even more, knowing that anyone who walks by could see the act that's about to happen. Your hands grip the seat, trying to find some sort of stability, but your mind is clouded with arousal. A desperate moan leaves your lips as you feel his hardness brushing against your skin, teasing, not entering yet.

"I knew you liked being seen," Yuji whispers, leaning down to bite softly your back, leaving a trail of small bites as he continues to grind against you. "You like others to know who you belong to. To see you being mine."

Your moans are the only response you can give him as you move into him, seeking more friction, needing him to take you completely. But Yuji, in his absolute control, takes his time, relishing the power he has over you. His hand moves down between your legs, brushing against your still-wet, sensitive core, and you shudder under his touch.

“Say what you want,” he commands, his tone low and dangerous. “I want to hear it from your mouth.”

“I need you…” you moan, your voice cracking with desperation. “Yuji, please… fuck me!”

His chuckle is low, but laden with satisfaction. “Good girl,” he murmurs as he positions himself behind you, and without warning, he enters you all at once, filling you completely in one motion.

A gasp escapes your mouth, your hands gripping the seat tighter as your body adjusts to the feel of him inside you.

Yuji doesn't give you a break; his movements are strong, fast, and each charge pushes you against the window glass, where you can see your reflection distorted by pleasure. Every time he enters and exits, the car shakes slightly, and the sound of skin against skin fills the space, accompanied by the moans that escape from both.

"Imagine what they would think if they saw you like this," he murmurs in your ear, his hand tangled in your hair, gently pulling back to force you to look at yourself in the reflection of the window. "Would you like to be seen being fucked so well?" "Let them know how desperate you are for me."

Every word he says makes you feel hotter, and you can't help but moan louder, the exhibitionism blending with the pleasure that consumes you. You are completely at his mercy, and he knows it.

"Answer me," Yuji demands, his hand sliding down to your throat, gently holding you as he continues to move inside you, each thrust deeper than the last. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes..." you whisper, barely able to form coherent words. "I want them to see it... I want them to know that I am yours."

Yuji growls with satisfaction at your response, and suddenly, you feel the air burn as his hand comes down hard on your bare backside. The sound of the slap echoes in the small space of the car, and the heat of their hand spreads across your skin, sending a mix of pain and pleasure straight to your core. A sharp moan escapes your lips, your body arching even more in response.

"What a perfect ass," grunts Yuji as his hands lovingly explore the curves of your butt, his fingers massaging the skin he has just punished. Their gaze lingers on you for a moment, devouring you with their eyes, as if they were admiring their masterpiece. "This ass was made for me... made for me to adore it and punish it at the same time."

Before you can process his words, another slap falls, this time harder, tearing a louder moan from your lips. Your fingers dig into the seat as you try to endure the intensity, each blow igniting the need between your legs.

Yuji, enjoying your reactions, pulls your hair firmly, causing your head to jerk back abruptly. Your breath catches when you feel the absolute control they have over you, the mix of pain and pleasure taking you to a state of complete submission.

"You know you like it," Yuji whispers close to your ear, his tone low and filled with desire. "Look at you... you're going crazy. So beautiful when you whine for more."

You feel their free hand slowly sliding down your back, caressing your skin gently as they continue to push inside you. Its rhythm is fast and deep, each thrust pushing you harder against the car window, and you can feel it all: its large, hard member filling you completely, brushing against every sensitive corner of your gummy walls. It's thick, every centimeter stretches you to the limit, and the heat between your legs intensifies with every movement, as Yuji takes you right to the edge once again.

"You know how good it feels like this," he growls as he speeds up, his thrusts becoming more faster. "You are so damn tight for me... so perfect." His hand goes down to your ass again, caressing it with adoration before delivering another firm slap, making you moan his name in desperation.

"Yuji..." you moan, unable to contain the sounds coming from your mouth, the pleasure being too intense.

He smiles behind you, his hand still tangled in your hair as he keeps you in that vulnerable position. "That's right, princess. I want to hear you... I want everyone to know how well I'm making you feel. Do you like being fucked like that, in front of everyone?"

A heart-wrenching moan escapes from you in response as he fills you again and again, each thrust bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. Yuji, feeling your body tense beneath him, releases your hair again and lowers a hand to grip your hips firmly, pulling you towards him with force to meet his thrusts. The sound of your bodies colliding is deafening, and all you can do is surrender to the pleasure he gives you.

"This ass is mine," he murmurs in a husky voice as one of his hands moves down to squeeze a cheek firmly. "Everything about you is mine."

The combination of spanking, hair pulling, and deep thrusts has you in a frenzy, your body begging for release. But Yuji is still not done with you. His hand moves down to your center, brushing your swollen clit with his fingers while he continues to thrust forcefully, and the overload of sensations brings you even closer to the edge.

"I'm going to make you cum again, but only when I say so," he whispers in an authoritative voice, his tone dangerous. "And when you do, it will be because I've fuck you so well that you can't hold back anymore."

Your moans have turned into high-pitched whimpers, completely surrendered to the pleasure that Yuji is causing you. Each of his thrusts pushes you beyond what you thought possible, your body convulsing with pleasure as he takes you to the edge again and again, never letting you fall.

But then, you feel Yuji's hand come down hard on your ass, the sound of the slap reverberating in the car, cutting your cries of pleasure with a delicious pain. Your hips shake involuntarily and a louder moan escapes your lips, but you barely have time to process it before he holds you even tighter, thrusting you violently against him.

"I told you to shut up," growls Yuji, his voice rough and authoritative, filled with dark desire. His hand stays on your ass, gripping tightly the skin reddened from the blows. "Do you want everyone to hear you scream like a desperate whore? Or is that what you like, huh?"

Your moans are barely controllable, stifled in your throat as you try to do what you're commanded, but it's impossible. He keeps moving inside you, harder, deeper, and all you can do is hold on to the seat while tears of pleasure run down your cheeks.

"Yuji... I can't... please!" you plead between gasps, the control you try to maintain over your sounds crumbles with each thrust.

But Yuji has no mercy. His hand falls again, punishing the flesh of your ass, this time harder, his palm burning your skin with the strike. "What did I tell you?" Its tone is cold, dominating. "Stay silent, or I swear I'll make you beg me to let you cum, and I won't even let you."

Your moans turn into small sobs of pleasure, the sounds barely escaping your mouth as you try to comply with his command. But the pleasure is too much, and you feel your body tense, edging once again towards the brink.

Yuji notices it, as always, and his hand quickly travels to your clit, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot with ruthless precision, rubbing it while he continues to thrust into you with each movement.

"Do you like it when I fuck you so hard, princess?" Yuji whispers against your ear, his breath heavy and filthy, his hand moving faster over your swollen center. "Is that what you wanted, huh?" You know you can't hide from me. "Look at you... trembling, begging for more."

Your sobs grow more intense, each sound struggling to escape your mouth while he shows no mercy. "Please... Yuji... I can't take it anymore!" she moans desperately, the edge of orgasm approaching dangerously.

"Can't you take it anymore?" Yuji laughs, a low sound filled with malice. "I haven't given you permission to cum yet, so you'll have to hold on." His hand falls on your ass again, harder this time, provoking a muffled scream that you quickly stifle, desperately trying to obey.

"Good girl," he murmurs, noticing your effort. "But I’m not done with you yet."

He continues, his thrusts even faster, his hand punishing your ass with force between each push, until all you can do is moan and cry out in pleasure, your body trembling from pure desire and mixed pain. Your hips move against him, seeking your release.

"I want you to look at yourself in the window," he orders you, his tone full of authority. "I want you to see how dirty you look being fucked like that." "Look how desperate you are for me."

You force yourself to open your eyes, looking at the reflection of both of you in the glass. Your face is completely flushed, sweat covers your skin, and Yuji's reflection behind you is intense, his expression one of pure concentration as he takes what is his.

"Do you see that?" he murmurs, his hand squeezing your butt again as he continues to hit your deepest point with force. "You are mine, only mine."

The words hit you, and you feel your whole body tremble, the edge of orgasm about to break. But you still don't have permission, and your muffled moans turn into small desperate squeals, pleading for your release.

Yuji, noticing your desperation, leans over you, his warm breath against your ear. "I want to hear you say who you belong to."

With each thrust from Yuji, you feel your body tense on the edge of the abyss. The heat between your legs intensifies, your moans blend with desperate gasps as he continues to thrust, deeper, faster, harder each time. You are completely surrendered to his movements, your body trembling under his control.

"Tell me to whom you belong," Yuji growls, his voice hoarse, interrupted by need. His grip on your hip is firm, dominant, as if he could break you with just a little more pressure.

"You... Yuji... I am yours," you stammer, your voice broken by pleasure and despair. You can only speak; your mind is a chaos of sensations, and all that matters to you in that moment is the imminent relief that only he can provide.

"That's it," he growls with satisfaction, leaning over you as he holds you even tighter. "Now, cum for me, princess."

With those words, your body finally surrenders. The orgasm hits you with a devastating force, your body shaking violently as everything crumbles around you. You feel your muscles tighten around him, every fiber of your being completely surrendered to the explosion of pleasure. A muffled scream escapes your lips as your insides pulse around his cock, intensifying every sensation.

Yuji doesn't stop, continuing with his thrusts while he hears you moan, which causes his control to start crumbling as well. "Shit... you're so tight," he grunts through clenched teeth, his breath heavy, feeling how your body envelops him, squeezing him with every contraction.

Its rhythm becomes erratic, its movements wilder and more uncontrolled as it chases its own liberation. "Fuck... I'm going to fill you up... You want to feel it, right? Everything... within you."

You can't respond, only moan between sobs as you feel your whole body react to his words. Yuji plunges into you one last time, with brutal force, and you finally feel it; an intense heat overflowing inside you as he empties himself completely, his animalistic grunts echoing in your ears.

His hands grip you tightly, holding you against him as he spills into the depths of you. Every pulse of their body matches yours, and you can feel how they completely unravel, their ragged breath and hoarse moans filling the air of the car. "Mine... you are mine," he murmurs between grunts, holding you with a mix of possessiveness and devotion, savoring every second spent buried inside you.

Finally, Yuji collapses onto you, both of you panting, your bodies sticky with sweat and trembling from the intensity of what you had just shared.

#yuji x reader #jjk x reader #yuji smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #itadori x reader #—demensrage.

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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

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Really, Rafe?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Couple Arguments and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic getaway starts to feel like something else when Y/N realizes the type of activities the resort has.

A/N: Inspired by this post (Totally not because Tom Holland liked the post).

Masterlist

One rule in their relationship is that Y/N and Rafe take turns planning dates. Everything from small picnic dates to large vacation dates. This time, it is his turn to plan a vacation. When it comes to holiday trips, it doesn’t have to be far or grand. It could be a small thing, as long as it is a getaway from their normal life for at least two days. The last one they went on was when they both went to a small beach house in Myrtle Beach. Y/N was lucky enough to have found a private rental away from most of the city’s commotion. It was just the ocean, cocktails and the two of them for a week. It was absolute Heaven. As she watches the scenery pass by, Y/N can’t help her excitement as to where they are going. “Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she pleads. Her eyes are as big as dinner plates. He gently squeezes her thigh and throws her a smile, “That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “That is such a cliche saying.” He shrugs, “So? It still doesn’t mean I am going to tell you.” She gives him a playful pout and continues to look out of the window.

Ten minutes later, the dense forest turns to equally placed decorative trees and the paved road turns to decorative stones. He parks the car and steps out to open the door for her. She takes in the castle-like resort. The golden trimming and fascia remind the girl of Versailles. She imagines all sorts of things they can do together. Sit by the pool with a drink in hand. Relax thanks to the hands of a masseuse. Dine in fairytale-like restaurants. It takes her breath away, but only for a second because she finally spots the real reason why they are here. To the right of the building are expansive green plains with people of various ages swinging back a club to send the ball flying through the air. Y/N notices Rafe isn’t by her side and turns to find him unloading his golf clubs from the trunk. He packed the trunk, so she didn’t notice it. Disappointment falls over her as it all clicks into place.

“Really, Rafe?” she disgruntled. Her arms cross over each other and her right hip juts out. He looks at her with a tight-lipped smile, “What? This place has a great high tea evening, which I know you’ve been dying to try. And they have an indoor and outdoor pool that you could take advantage of. Plus, a great spa package for you to try.” This man is really digging his own grave. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You do realize through your whole little spiel, you always said you. Never we, like you expect me to do all those things by myself while you go off and spend all your time with your golf clubs,” she argues. Rafe’s eyes widen, “No, Sugar, you got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I planned on doing all those things with you. I promise I just brought my clubs in case you got sick of me and I need to give you some space.” She didn’t believe him. Not when a previous experience told her otherwise. It may have been four years ago when they started dating, yet a girl never forgets. Rafe had planned a date at a football bar. It would’ve been fine if his sole reasoning wasn’t to be surrounded by TVs to watch the game. Halfway through the date, other football fans joined their table to watch the event with him. She felt so ignored and unimportant during that hour. She left the date without so much as a goodbye.

She wouldn’t have seen him again if it wasn’t for how apologetic he was. He expressed remorse through his words and then flowers. She eventually forgave him, agreeing to another date. However, she never forgot the way that she felt in that bar. The humiliation of walking away from a man who paid her no attention. Up until today, she never regretted the decision to give him a second chance. Now, she feels the same way. She worries he didn’t listen to her concern about them not being able to spend a lot of quality time with each other because of how busy they have been with work. It’s the reason why they decided to go on this two-week getaway. To reconnect with each other and they couldn’t do that if he planned to spend all his time on the course. “Sure, that’s totally why you did it. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, Rafe, you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you the space and you wouldn’t have had to drag me with you here,” she criticizes, storming into the hotel to calm down.

———

For the past five minutes, she has been cooling herself down in the resort lobby. Rafe has been at the front desk, probably checking into their room. She doesn’t know if she should stay or just call a cab to take her to the nearest train station. She watches as he points in her direction and the receptionist gives him a nod. The woman removes herself from behind the counter, walking over to Y/N with a smile. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N? Could you please follow me to the front desk?” the receptionist, named Kate according to her name tag, asks. Y/N hesitates to nod, yet still obeys the request. Once at the front desk, Y/N keeps her distance from Rafe. Kate types into her computer and turns it toward the female guest, “Mr. Cameron requested I show you all the bookings he made for stay here.” Rafe’s girlfriend stares at him with narrow eyes and he leans in to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t tell her what happened. I just asked her to show you what I booked.” She gives him a small nod, turning her attention toward the screen.

The list is long, but it is easy to recognize a pattern. Everything is reserved for a couple and not a single one is a tee-time reservation. She couldn’t argue that he had Kate remove his tee times because literally every single minute between nine in the morning and seven in the evening had something planned. She made a horrible mistake and accused Rafe of not caring about her. She turns to him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Rafe,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around him. He lets her snuggle into his neck and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips rest on her forehead, “It’s okay, Sugar, I know I was really an ass on that date so long ago. I mean I can’t say I’m not hurt that you still think I could still be that idiot, but I am grateful every day that you chose to forgive me. Which means that I have it in my heart to forgive you too. I love you.” She presses her lips against his. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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fandomnerd9602 · 3 months ago

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Cell Phones & Road Trips

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

You got the location booked. You couldn’t help but smile. For a couple days, it was just gonna be you and your loving doe mate on the open road. Your first couple’s vacation together. Quite the milestone in your mind.

“So where are you taking her?” Natasha giggles as she spots your booking confirmation on your phone.

“I’m not telling you,” you answer with a chuckle.

Your wolf pal gives a fake pouting face, even dropping her ears for emphasis, “aww why not?”

“Cause you’ll tell her.” You smirk. Your phone vibrates with a text from your mate in question.

“Detka, just texting to say I love you ;)”

You smile and text her back, “I luv u 2”

“Whipped” Natasha snickers at your little exchange. “How often does she text you?”

“Every 30 minutes or so” you smile.

“You never should’ve gotten her that cell phone” Natasha slaps you playfully on the back and leaves.

At the end of yours and Wanda’s work day, you walked our arm in arm to the parking lot with your special gal.

“I got a little surprise for you” you chime

“Detka you don’t have to” she blushes.

“Trust me you’re gonna love it” your statement caused her tail to wiggle with anticipation.

You guide her to your rental SUV a Ford Expedition. “Detka,” she gasps, “what’s this for?”

“I’m taking you on a road trip” you explain, “for the next few days, it’s just you, me and a few little locations”

Wanda giggles and blushes, “just us?”

“Yep”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster” she flirts

“Or great fun” you open the passenger door and hold it open for your lady. Your loving doe bites her lip in playful contemplation as she slides into the passenger seat.

You and Wanda took off on your little trip the next morning. You punched in the coordinates in your phone’s map app and still kept the destination a secret.

The two of you ended up turning the trip itself into a journey. You and Wanda made a few stops up the coast. A quick stop at the gas station to grab a slushie. Listening to music in a little town’s record shop. It was time spent with the love of your life and it felt better than a day at a theme park.

You arrived outside your destination. Wanda gasped as she stepped out of the suv to find…

“A cottage? By the ocean?!” Wanda shouted gleefully, jumping up and down. She turns around jumps into your arms, grabbing your face and kissing you repeatedly. She did her best cover every square inch of your face with little kisses.

“Come on,” you chuckle, just loving the feeling of her lips on your face, “don’t you want a tour?”

You led her inside the small little cozy cottage. It was everything Wanda had dreamed of. A little nook with Harry Potter books and a Hedwig stuffie that you sent ahead for. A little fireplace that just needed to be lit.

You spent the a part of the day settling in. That was followed by a walk on the nearby beach. The wind was cold and the ocean was roaring loud but it was the kind of thing Wanda dreamed of, walking arm in arm with her detka.

You spent the evening making dinner on the kitchen stove and watching the Harry Potter movies as a marathon.

Wanda was curled up in your arms on the couch, just snuggling under a Hogwarts themed blanket, while sipping her favorite tea.

“Thank you detka” she kisses your cheek.

“We got the next three days here” you smile back at her before kissing her forehead. Her tail wiggled with delight.

That night Wanda curled up in your arms and dozed off peacefully. This little vacation was worth it in your mind.

You woke up to find Wanda looking at some photos on her phone.

“What’cha doing?” You asked playfully.

“Looking at my favorite photo” she answered back.

She turned her screen to you. Her favorite photo was one she took of you as you slept. You held her close as she nuzzles your neck.

Your precious doe. What would you do without her?

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @revanshand @russianredassassin @texaswolf23 @idkwhatever580 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk

#marvel #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #elizabeth olsen #bambi #bambi doe #Bambi Wanda

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sonicfanthenightfury5099 · 7 months ago

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Surprising a Slasher with Soft Serve Ice Cream

I had some Soft Serve today, and I thought about how Horror boys would like Soft Serve, so I decided to write about it

Reader is GN

Characters: Michael Myers(OG, RZ, and Peepaw) Jason Voorhees, The Sinclairs, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Saywer, Corey Cunningham, Brahms Heelshire, Hannibal Lecter (NBC), and John Kramer

CW: Cuteness Overload

Michael Myers

- Went on a Trip to the coast

- Michael was given a "No Killing During Vacation" rule (Michael must behave)

- You told him to wait at a table after eating

- Michael thinking about things to do when getting home

- "Surprise Honey." You said you have Sundae for Dessert

- Michael was definitely surprised

- You remember his favorite flavor, Cookies and Cream

- He definitely loved the surprises

Jason Voorhees

- A Beach trip

- Big guy definitely doesn't want to go swimming without a life jacket

- Walking on the Broad-walk you saw something

- You told him to wait at the spot you both stopped at

- He chilled at the spot while holding the plushie he won at a game

- You walked back with Ice Cream for the both of you.

- Cookie dough is his favorite

- A great treat for the heat

Michael Myers RZ

- A bit of a Trip to a big city with a mall

- No Kill rule is put in place

- Michael is behaving well during the trip

- At a Food court, you told him to wait at the table

- Michael wondered what your doing

- Is that Ice Cream you bringing to the table?

- "I asked for extra candy pieces for yours." You said as you sat down, handing the soft serve to him.

- "Thank you." He said, smiling

- Resse's pieces with cookie bits for your tall man

The Sinclairs

- The 4 of you decided to have a trip to a Mall a few hours away from Ambrose

- Definitely a new thing for Vincent and Lester to check out (Not new for Bo)

- You ask Lester to help you with something as the Twin sat at a table

- Bo tried to do his usual flirting with ladies passing by while Vincent was sketching in his little Sketchbook on the table

- Sweet Treat placed in front of both of them

- Soft Serve Sundaes

- Definitely a good treat

- Carmel on Vincent's while Bo's has mixed Berries and Lester having a simple vanilla cone

Thomas Hewitt

- A Trip to Houston just you and Tommy

- The Hot Texas heat is unbearable when entering the city

- You decide in something to help with the heat

- 2 Vanilla Cones, please

- Thomas loves the cold treat to beat the Texas Heat

Bubba Saywer

- Texas is Hot 24/7 in the Summer

- You decide to get something to beat the heat

- Ice and something Sweet

- Bubba Squealed when you showed him a Tub of Rocky Road Ice cream

- It's partly melted, but being creative. You mixed it with in the ice to make it like Soft Serve

- A Big cool down for the Summer heat

Peepaw Michael Myers

- A Road trip to the ocean

- Michael has never seen the Oceah in person (Figure you give him a chance before he get sick)

- He was Given the No Killing Rule (Insert Old Man Grunt)

- A Sight for the 61yo Michael to see the great Wide Blue Sea

- You told him to stay in the spot (he's not going to, his eyes are focused on the ocean)

- You came back with some Soft Serve for the both of you

- Enjoying ice cream and watching the waves

Corey Cunningham

- A well-deserved vacation out of Haddonfield

- You decide to surprise him when you get to your destination

- A Mall day

- You decide to get something for the both of them

- Surprise, I got you Ice cream my Dear

- Chocolate Soft Serve for Corey, his favorite

- Best Time Away from Haddonfield

Brahms Heelshire

- You decide to make something for Brahms

- Needing the ingredients to make

- Brahms wondered what your making

- Home-made Soft Serve Ice Cream

- Brahms never had Soft Serve before, so this is definitely a Treat for him to try

Hannibal Lecter

- You always told him that you love Soft Serve Ice Cream

- Him being a cook, he knows how to make something like that

- Hannibal Surprise you with homemade Vanilla Bean Ice cream

- It has the Soft Serve you love to have

John Kramer

Click here for Drawing

- Figured to cheer up him

- Going to his workplace with your surprise

- He definitely loved the surprise

- Strawberry sauce on Vanilla soft serve, you remembered so well

Click here for drawing

#michaelmyers #halloweenmovie #halloween1978 #jasonvoorhees #michael myers x reader #halloween #robzombieshalloween #hannibal #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #john kramer #bubba sawyer #peepaw michael myers #thomashewitt #slashers x reader #slasher imagines #brahms heelshire

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 4: Read Between The Lines]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

It is your first week of basic training at Great Lakes on the north side of Chicago, and as you lie in the top bunk of your assigned bed you wonder what the hell you’ve done. You enlisted right out of high school, eighteen, no driver’s license, no work history, never been more than fifty miles outside of Soft Shell, Kentucky. The drill sergeants are always yelling and you’re bad at push-ups; you can’t understand the recruits from big cities like Los Angeles, Miami, Las Vegas, Detroit, Houston, and they don’t seem to get you either, and aren’t interested enough to try. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t signed that five-year contract, but where would you be if you weren’t here? Home is not words but textures, colors, fumes that still burn in your sinuses: cigarette ash on rose pink carpets, red embers glowing in the wood stove, Hamburger Helper and Mountain Dew, coffee creamer in Hungry Jack potatoes, laughter and heavy footsteps and slamming doors, scratch-off games, dogs barking, collecting coins from couch cushions for gas money, scrubbing clothes in the bathtub when the washer quits, Mama taking gulps from her favorite cup—plastic, Virginia Beach, filled with equal parts Hawaiian Punch and vodka—when she thinks no one is looking, blue shows flickering on the television, Family Feud, Maury, Good Morning America, WWE SmackDown. For as long as you can remember you’ve known you couldn’t stay. Now you’re getting out, but nothing in life is free.

You are at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, and even though it’s hotter than some noxious, volcanic hellscape—Mercury, Venus, Io—you are beginning to like it. You taste the salt of sweat when you lick your lips, sugar in the sweet tea they serve in the chow hall. There’s a magic in building something where there was only empty space before, in patching roofs and painting walls. Here being quiet and watchful is exactly what they want from you: head down, hammer striking nails, measurements and angles and long hours under the sun with no complaints. You’re not just running away anymore. You are creating something new.

You are sitting beneath swaying palm trees and a full moon on Diego Garcia, draining cans of Guinness with Rio, and he’s telling you things he shouldn’t, too personal, too honest: Sophie wants to try for a baby next time he’s home on leave, and part of him wants that too but he’s terrified. As thunder rumbles in the distance and raindrops begin to patter on the waves of the Indian Ocean, you tell Rio you think he’d be a good father. He wonders how you figure that, and you say because he’s not like any of the men from home. He gives you one of his crooked smiles—a flash of teeth, knowing dark eyes—and doesn’t ask what you mean.

But of course, when you swim up from the inky currents of sleep you are in none of these places. You are curled up on the floor of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio, cheap worn black carpet peppered with stars and swirls in neon green, pink, blue. You stretch out with a yawn. Someone has left a Lemon Tea Snapple within reach; you twist it open and guzzle it, hoping to extinguish the pounding in your skull, a rhythmic thudding of warm maroon, half Captain Morgan and half misery. The music isn’t helping. From the green Toshiba CD player, a man is singing in Spanish. Aegon and Rio are sitting at the nearest table and playing Uno.

Aegon says as he ponders his cards: “You know Enrique Iglesias, right Rio?”

“You are so racist.” Rio puts down a wild. “And the new color is red. Racist.”

“So what’s he saying?”

“Aegon, buddy, I told you, I was born here. My grandparents came over in the 60s. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“You can’t understand any of it?” Aegon is skeptical. He plays a skip, a reverse, and a seven. “My dad never taught me a word of Greek but I can recognize plenty of phrases. Vlákas means idiot. Spatáli chórou is a waste of space.”

Rio sighs, relenting. He puts down a two. “The song is called Súbeme La Radio, Turn Up The Radio For Me. Bring me the alcohol that numbs the pain… I don’t care about anything anymore…You’ve left me in the shadows…”

“Damn, now I’m sad. Draw four, bitch.”

“When the night comes and you don’t answer, I swear to you I’ll stay waiting at your door…” Rio studies his cards. “What’s the new color?”

“Green.”

“Yes!” Rio slams down a skip. “Fleeing from the past in every dawn, I can’t find any way to erase our history…”

Everyone else is awake already. As muted late-morning daylight streams in through the small tinted windows, Aemond is weaving between tables, pointedly checking on each person. He glances at you, says nothing, turns around and walks the other way.

“That’s tough,” Rio says sympathetically, popping open the tab on a can of Chef Boyardee and shoveling ravioli into his mouth with a plastic fork.

Aegon gives you a smirk. “You want to fake date now?”

“I’ll think about it.” No you won’t.

Helaena appears, a prairie girl vision in a modest blue sundress and with her hair tied back with a matching scarf. She reaches into her burlap messenger bag and offers you a choice between a ranch-flavored tuna pouch or a silvery pack of Pop-Tarts. “Strawberry,” she tells you.

“I’ll take the Pop-Tarts.”

Helaena gives them to you and then shakes a bottle of Advil. You’re so groggy it takes you a few seconds to figure out what she wants, then you obediently hold out a hand. Helaena lays two tablets in the center of your palm and moves on, soundlessly like a rabbit or a spider.

You wash the pills down with Snapple. As you nibble half-heartedly on a Pop-Tart—trying not to look at Aemond, multicolored sprinkles falling down onto the carpet—your eyes drift to the tattoo on the underside of Aegon’s forearm. It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You’ve spotted it before. Only now do you remember where you recognize the lyric from. “Is that Green Day?”

“Yeah,” Aegon says, enthused that you noticed. “Letterbomb.”

“I love that whole album.”

“Me too. I could sing it front to back if you asked me to.”

“I’m not asking.”

Aegon cackles and resumes his Uno game with Rio. Baela is wearing denim shorts and a crop top, slathering her belly with Palmer’s cocoa butter from Walmart as she chats with Rhaena and eats Teddy Grahams. Daeron is waxing the string of his compound bow. Jace is gnawing on a Twizzler as he scrutinizes Aegon’s map, annotated with Xs and circles and arrows in sparkling gel pen green.

“I’m going to be a thousand years old by the time we get there,” Jace mutters.

Aegon hits the table with his fist. The discard pile collapses and cascades, an avalanche of Uno cards. Rio, undisturbed, continues contemplating his next move. “You know what, Jace? The cities are full of zombies, the interstates are blocked by fifty-car pileups, if we bump into anyone else who’s still alive they’re just as likely to rob and murder us as want to be friends, and on top of all that I’m trying to do you the favor of preventing you from getting so irradiated you turn into Spider-Man. If you have a better route in mind, I’d love to hear it.”

“Spider-Man…? You’re such a dumbass, what are you talking about?!”

Luke says from where he stands by a window: “Aemond, someone’s outside.”

“What?” Aemond stares at him. “Zombies?”

“No. People.”

Aemond bolts to the doors, the rest of you close behind him. Rhaena turns off the CD player. You, Rio, and Aegon squeeze together to peer out of one of the windows. There are men—three of them, no, four, all appearing to be in their forties—passing by on the main road through town. They are armed with what are either AR-15s or M16s, you can’t tell which.

Rio whistles. “If you get shot by one of those, the exit wound will be the size of an orange.” Everyone looks at him. This was not an encouraging thing to say.

You elaborate: “Thirty-round magazines. Semiautomatic, assuming they’re AR-15s for civilian use. I guess they could have gotten ahold of M16s somehow. Those have a fully automatic setting.”

“So regardless, we’re out-gunned,” Jace says.

“If they know how to use them. Some men think guns are wall decorations, like deer heads or fish.”

Aegon recoils. “Fish?! What the fuck. I’m glad the colonies left.”

“Maybe they’ll keep walking,” Daeron says hopefully. One of the men stops and points at the bowling alley, saying something to his companions. They laugh and begin crossing the small parking lot. They are less than two minutes from the door. “Oh, great…”

“There’s an emergency exit in the back,” Baela says.

Aegon snorts. “Yeah, that we stacked about twenty boxes of bowling pins in front of to zombie-proof.”

“We won’t be able to get out before they hear us,” Aemond says. Then he abruptly orders: “Grab your guns, let’s go. Helaena, Baela, Rhaena, you’re staying here.” Aemond’s remaining eye—briefly, reluctantly—skates over you as Rio, Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Daeron scatter to obey him. “You too.”

“But I’m the best shot.”

“I don’t want them to know we have women with us.”

“I’m of more use to you outside.”

Aemond rips his Glock out of its holster, pointing it at the floor. His frustration is palpable, an electric shock, heat that refracts light rays until they become mirages on the horizon. “You’re going to stay here, and if a stranger comes through those doors you’re going to kill them. Okay?”

His urgency stuns you; his eye is blue-white summer storm lightning. “Okay.”

“Now get back.”

You soar to the nearest table, duck under it, reach for your Beretta M9 and double-check the clip, fully loaded. You click off the safety.

“Aemond, wait, let me go first,” Aegon is saying by the door. “I’m better at de-escalation, I’m less…uh…intimidating.”

“Less socially incompetent, you mean,” Jace quips.

“I’ll lead,” Aemond insists. “Aegon can talk. Rio, you’re up front with me.”

Rio pumps his Remington 12 gauge. “I’d be delighted.”

Jace is amused. “I’ve been demoted, huh?”

“He’s bigger,” Aemond replies simply, then opens the door and vanishes through a blinding curtain of daylight. The others follow closely; Daeron, the last one out—his compound bow in hand, the strap of his Marlin .22 slung over his shoulder—shuts the door behind him.

Very faintly, you can hear Aegon: “Hey, guys! What’s happening? How’s the apocalypse treating you…?”

Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are under the table with you. They deserve to have options. You tell them: “If you want to go hide behind the lanes or try to get out the back door, now’s your chance.”

Helaena shakes her head, clutching your t-shirt: black, Star Wars, pawed off a shelf at the Walmart. “I want to stay with you.”

“Same,” Baela says determinedly, gripping her Ruger. She barely knows how to use it, but she’ll try. Rhaena is shaking, her eyes filling up her face, small fragile bones like a bird’s.

You can’t hear voices from outside anymore, but there are no gunshots either. You keep your M9 aimed at the doors, your breathing slow and deep, your heart rate low. Your hands are steady. Your eyes hunt for the slightest movement, for the momentary shadow of someone passing by a window. Against your will, your thoughts wander to Aemond. I hope Aegon is on his left side. Aemond can’t see there.

“Rhaena, get your gun out,” Baela says sharply. “Come on. Turn the safety off. What if you were alone right now? What if we weren’t here to protect you?”

Rhaena nods, fumbling to free her revolver from its holster. “I’m sorry…I’m trying…”

Now there is a stranger’s voice, gruff and deep. He must be just beyond the door, the farthest one to the right. There is a creak of hinges, a sliver of sunlight. “That’s just too damn bad, fellas. You got a nice little hideout here, and you’re gonna have to share it—”

The door opens. Two unfamiliar faces, too shellshocked to raise their rifles in time. You close an eye, line up your sights, fire twice, and that’s all it takes: one headshot, one in the throat, blood like a fountain, spurting scarlet ruin, thuds against the carpet strewn with neon stars, gurgling and spasms as their brains send out those final electrical impulses: danger, catastrophe, apocalypse. Rhaena is screaming. Helaena is covering her ears with both hands.

You run to the doorway; there are more booms of gunfire out in the parking lot. You cross into the late-morning light to see the other two men on the pavement: one with an arrow through the eye, the other with a gaping, hemorrhaging hole where his heart once was. Rio is admiring his work, holding his shotgun aloft. He scoops a handful of Cheddar Whales out of his shorts pocket and shovels them into his mouth.

“Goddamn, I love Remington Arms Company.”

“Oh, that was awesome,” Aegon says, wan and panting, hands on his waist. “Yeah, that was…that was…” He bends over and vomits Snapple and Cool Ranch Doritos onto the asphalt.

“Everyone okay in there?” Rio asks you.

“Yeah.” Behind you, Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are stepping through the doorway. Your thoughts are whirling sickly: I killed someone. I killed someone. “They wouldn’t leave?”

“We told them the bowling alley was ours,” Aemond says, not looking at you. “We asked them very politely to keep moving. They chose to try to intimidate us into letting them stay. They weren’t good people, and these are the consequences.”

You click on the safety and re-holster your M9. You’re wearing Rio’s on your other hip. They seem to weigh so much more than they did ten minutes ago. I’m not supposed to be a killer. I’m a builder.

“Aegon, are you okay?” Daeron asks, a palm on his brother’s back.

Aegon retches again. “Shut up. You can’t even buy fireworks.”

“Zombies.” Luke is peering through his binoculars. “Not many, just two. Way up the road.”

“There will be more.” Baela’s cradling her belly; you don’t even think she’s aware of it. “They heard the gunshots, the sound carries for miles.”

“We’re leaving,” Aemond says. “Right now. Everyone get your things.”

As backpacks are hastily zipped and Daeron and Aegon stand guard in the parking lot, you kneel down beside the men you murdered and check their rifles. They are M16s, either stolen or illegally purchased: there’s a little switch by the trigger to choose between semi-automatic or the so-called machine gun mode.

“They barely had any bullets left,” you tell Rio. Just like us when we were trapped on that transmission tower.

“Yeah, same story for the other two guys. Four bullets in one magazine, a half dozen in the other. But it only takes once. We don’t have any ammo that will work with M16s, do we?”

“No, we definitely don’t.”

“Fantastic. Well, we’ll throw them in a Walmart cart and take them with us just in case.”

You’re staring down at the man you shot through the head. His eternal resting place is a puddle of blood and brains in a bowling alley in rural Ohio; surely no one deserves that. “He was a real person,” you say, dazed. “Not a zombie. Just a person.”

“Hey.” Rio grabs your shoulders and spins you towards him. From where he is helping Luke gather up the remaining food, Aemond’s head snaps up to watch. “You hurt him before he could hurt us. You did the right thing.”

“Sure.”

“I killed a dude too. I blew his heart right out of his chest. You think I’m going to hell for that?”

“No,” you admit, smiling. “And if you’d be there with me, I guess I wouldn’t mind so much.”

Rio grins, wide and toothy. “Well alright then. Let’s finish packing.”

The ten of you depart from Shenandoah, Ohio heading northwest on Route 603 just like Aegon marked on his map, Jace chauffeuring Baela in one shopping cart, Rio pushing another loaded high with food and M16s.

“It looks like rain,” Helaena says.

Everyone else peers up into a clear, cerulean sky, wondering what she means.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re a few miles north of Shiloh when the storm rolls in, cold rain and furious wind, daylight that vanishes behind dark churning thunderheads, jagged scars of lightning in an opaque sky. The road is only two lanes, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and ravaged crops and untilled earth; it would look like the patchwork of a quilt if you were gazing down from an airplane, but of course the FAA grounded all flights over a month ago when the world went mad: Revelations, Ragnarök, the fabric of the universe unweaving as death burned through families, cities, nations like a fever, like plague.

“Maybe we should cut across one of these fields,” Jace says, pointing. He is soaked with rain; it drips from his curls, runs into his eyes. Baela is in her cart again; each time she tries to get out and walk, she’s gasping and can’t keep up within half an hour. You’ve all taken turns pushing her, much to Baela’s dismay. She’d be humiliated if she wasn’t too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

“Here, let me do it,” you offer, and Jace gratefully relinquishes the cart. Baela gives you a frail wave of appreciation.

“We stay on the road,” Aemond insists, flinching as rain pelts his scarred face. “Farmhouses have driveways and mailboxes, we’ll pass one eventually. If we lose the road, we might not be able to find it again. We’ll end up wandering around in circles in the woods.”

“Just like the Blair Witch Project,” Aegon says glumly, his Sperry Bahama sneakers audibly soggy.

“There!” Luke announces, spotting something with his binoculars. “Up ahead on the left. Past the bridge.”

You can’t see what Luke does until there is an especially brilliant flash of lightning: a farmhouse, old but seemingly not derelict, and with a number of accompanying buildings, guest houses and stables and barns and towering silos.

“Home sweet home!” Rio says. “And I don’t care if I have to kill a hundred of those undead bastards to get in, it’s mine.”

“Well, hopefully not a hundred,” you reply, in better spirits now that a sanctuary has been found. Aemond keeps glancing back at you as you push Baela’s cart. If he wants to say something, he’s doing a good job of resisting the temptation. “We don’t have that much ammo.”

There is a concrete bridge over a river, probably unremarkable and only five or ten feet deep normally but now torrential with rain. Water rushes by beneath, a muddy incline on each side as the earth rises back up to meet the road. A reflective green sign proclaims that you are only two miles from Plymouth, which Aegon plans to skirt along the edges of. It’s a decent-sized town; he thinks you might be able to find a car to steal there, something with gas in the tank and keys on a hook just inside the house.

“I call the master bedroom,” Jace says craftily, rubbing his palms together. You’re near the center of the bridge now, another ten yards to go. “Nice big bed, warm cozy blankets, and I was up for half of last night keeping watch so tonight I am off duty, I am a free man, it’s going to just be me and my girl and eight glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep—”

Rhaena shrieks, and then you hear it over the noise of the storm, pounding rain and rumbling thunder: moans, growls, hisses like snakes. Not one zombie. A lot more than one. They’re crawling up from under the bridge, from the filthy quagmire at both ends. There was a hoard of them waiting, aimless, dormant, almost hibernating. But now they are awake. They are grasping for you with bony, dirt-covered claws. They are snapping with jaws that leak blood and pus and bile as their organs curdle to a putrid soup.

“Get off the bridge!” Aemond is shouting. He has his Glock in his right hand, a baseball bat in his left. He’ll shoot until he’s out of bullets, and then, and then…

Rio helps you get Baela out of the cart, then opens fire. His Remington doesn’t just pierce skulls, it vaporizes them. When he’s out of shells—there are more in his backpack, but no time to reload—he yanks the M16s out of the other Walmart cart and empties each of them, mowing down zombies as the rest of you scramble across the bridge. All around you are explosions of gunshots, thunder, lightning, zombie skulls crushed by bullets and blunt force trauma. Baela is firing her Ruger as you half-drag her, one arm hooked beneath hers and around her back. When the last M16 is empty, Rio starts clubbing zombies with the butt of it. You’ve all reached the north side of the bridge, except…

“Fuck off, you freaks!” Jace is screaming. They’ve backed him up against the guardrail, a swarm of ten or more. His Remington shotgun is out of ammo; he’s swinging it wildly, but he doesn’t even have enough room to maneuver. There are still more zombies emerging from under the bridge. You can hear them snarling and groaning. You swipe an M9 off your belt and put a bullet in the brain of a zombie as its fingers close around your ankle, then you start picking off the ones mobbing Jace. You aren’t fast enough. As they lean in to bite him, teeth gnashing at the delicious throbbing heat of his jugular, Jace throws himself over the barrier and into the surging water below.

“No!” Baela cries. She careens off the road and into the field, running parallel to the river as swiftly as she can. You are helping her, steadying her, firing at any zombies you have a clear line of sight on. The others are here too: slipping in the muck of the flooding earth, shouting for Jace. He surfaces through the frothing current, flails pitifully, disappears beneath the water again. You glimpse a white hand, a shadow of his dark hair, a kicking shoe. There are more zombies on the opposite side of the river, trailing after Jace, lurching and slobbering viscous, gory saliva. They cannot swim, but they can follow him until he washes ashore.

Jace bursts up through the waves, gasping. “Help! Aemond…Aemond, for the love of God, help me…” He blubbers and then is dragged under. Aemond and Luke are continuing frantically after him. Baela is hysterical, sobbing, trembling with adrenaline. Aegon is yowling as he swings at zombies with his bloodied golf club. Helaena is darting around almost invisibly, always cowering behind Daeron or Aegon or Rio.

You glance north towards the farmhouse, growing not closer but farther away. We can’t leave shelter. We can’t leave the road. You lock eyes with Rio. He’s thinking the same thing.

“Aemond, we have to go,” Rio says, but in the midst of the rain and the turmoil it barely registers.

“Jace, we’re coming to get you!” Aemond swears. The ground is increasingly sodden, deep, difficult to trudge through. Jace resurfaces, coughing and sputtering.

“Jace!” Aegon wails. He caves in the skull of a zombie who was once a registered nurse as Helaena crouches behind him. “Jace, I’m sorry! I’m gonna miss you, man!”

Jace splashes in the rising river, his arms flailing helplessly. He is being swept away far faster than any of you can move on foot. “Aegon, you dumb bitch!” Jace manages, then slips beneath the water and doesn’t reappear.

“Where is he?!” Baela is saying. “Aemond, where…?”

You are trying to soothe her, to bring her back to reality. She was always so pragmatic before; you have to wake her up. “Baela, listen, we can’t stay here, he would want you and the baby to be safe—”

“Aemond! Aemond, we have to go!” Rio catches him, wrenches him around, roars into his face as driving rain pummels them both: “We have to go, or we’re going to die here too!”

It hits Aemond all at once; he understands, horror and agony in his sole blue eye. “We have to go,” he agrees. And then louder, to everyone: “Get to the farmhouse!”

Baela collapses into the mud, howling, tears flooding down her face. “No, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, we can’t leave him!”

You and Rhaena are trying to haul Baela to her feet. Now Aemond is here, pulling you away from her—his fingers tight and urgent around your wrist—as he and Luke take your place. “Go,” he commands. “You run. Don’t wait for us. Rio?”

“I got her,” Rio replies, grabbing your free hand with an iron grip. Gales of wind rip at you; every millimeter of your skin is soaked with rain. As you flee across the fields towards the farmhouse, dozens of zombies pursue you. More are still staggering along the banks of the river, swept up in the hoards chasing Jace and the promise of his waterlogged corpse when it reaches its final destination. Daeron has run out of arrows and is shooting with his .22, which is very much not his preference. Aegon trips, getting covered in mud as he rolls, and Rio stops to help him. While he is distracted, you look back at Aemond. He, Luke, and Baela are moving quickly, but not quickly enough. A drove of zombies is closing in on them. You have a spare few seconds at last. You yank your backpack off, grab a box of ammo inside, and reload your M9.

“Chips?!” Rio calls over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

He knows you well enough to listen. The world goes quiet as your finger settles on the trigger. There’s a rhythm one slips into, an impassionate lethal efficiency. It’s easier to keep going than to stop and have to find it again. You fire over and over, dropping eight zombies. You sheath your M9 and whip Rio’s out of your other holster, the sights finding grotesque decaying faces illuminated by lightning. You pull the trigger: blood, bones, brains, corpses jerking and convulsing as they fall harmlessly to the mud. Aemond is here; when did he get here?

“I told you to run!” he’s shouting through the storm, furious. He’s shoving you towards the farmhouse. You resist him.

“Let me kill as many as I can—”

“Go! Now!” Aemond orders over the clashing thunder, and then sprints with you all the way to the front porch to make sure you listen. Everyone else is already there. Helaena has fetched a spare key from under the doormat and is turning it in the lock.

Daeron observes her anxiously. “We don’t know if it’s safe in there, Helaena.”

“Not in,” she says, insistent. “Through.” Through this building, and maybe through the next one too. The average zombie is not terribly clever. If they lose sight of you, without the benefit of the momentum of a hoard they are lost. Helaena opens the door. The living rush inside, and she locks it behind you. As you are bursting out the back door, you can hear zombies pounding their rotting palms against the front one. You soar through a stable full of dead horses and donkeys, leaving the doors open; this should keep the zombies distracted if they make it this far. Then you race to the farthest guest house. Luke, swiveling with his binoculars, spies no zombies approaching as you steal inside. There is no spare key this time; Rio punches out a first-floor window for you to climb through. Once everyone is inside, he and Aegon move a bookshelf to cover the opening.

You all stand in the living room, gasping and shivering, dripping rain down onto the rug and the hardwood floor. The air is dusty but clean of any trace of vile, swampy decay. Outside, thunder booms and lightning flashes bright enough to illuminate the lightless house. The sky is so dark it might as well be nightfall. Baela sinks to her knees, clamping both hands over her mouth so she won’t sob loudly enough for a zombie to hear. Rhaena and Luke are beside her, both weeping quiet rivulets of tears, trying to comfort her in whispers. Helaena is rummaging around searching for candles; she has already taken a lighter out of her soaked burlap messenger bag.

“Daeron, bro, come over here,” Aegon chokes out. He embraces Daeron, clutches him tightly and desperately, doesn’t let go. Rio is reloading his Remington 12 gauge.

Jace is dead. Jace is dead.

Aemond says to you, his voice low but seething: “What the fuck was that?”

You blink the raindrops out of your eyes as you stare at him, bewildered. “You needed help.”

“I told you to run.”

“I’m an asset, I have skills that can keep you alive, why am I here if I’m not going to be useful—?”

“You’re not in the fucking Navy anymore!” he hisses. “When I tell you to run, you run, you don’t stop, you don’t look back, because I can’t worry about you and take care of everyone else.”

“Nobody asked you to worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Aemond,” Aegon pleads, waving him over. Aegon’s plump sunburned cheeks are glistening with rain and tears. “Man, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters now. Please come here.”

“I’m going to clear the house,” Aemond says instead.

Rio raises an eyebrow at you—this is one fucked up guy, Chips—and then pumps his shotgun. “Me too.” He sweeps with Aemond through the main floor and then vanishes up the staircase.

Helaena is lightning candles she found in the kitchen and arranging them around the living room. Daeron starts gathering food from the pantry. Rhaena and Baela are murmuring to each other softly, mournfully. It doesn’t feel like something you should intrude on. Luke is peeking out of a window with his binoculars, vigilant for threats. Aegon sniffles, wanders over to you with large, sad, shimmering eyes, pats your shoulder awkwardly.

“Hey, Chocolate Chip. You doing okay?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“Yeah. Me either.” Then he flops down on the hideous burnt orange couch and lies there motionless until Daeron brings him a can of Dr. Pepper. Aegon pops the tab, slurps up foam, and then begins singing to himself very quietly, a song so old you can remember your grandfather saying it was one of his favorites as a boy: A Tombstone Every Mile.

When Rio comes back downstairs—heavy footsteps, he can’t help that—you meet him at the bottom of the steps. “The house is good,” Rio says. “And Aemond’s in the big bedroom on the right if you’d like to go up there and talk to him.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”

“I could not disagree more,” Rio says with a miserable, exhausted smile. Then he goes to the couch to check on Aegon.

You pick up one of the flickering candles, white and scentless, and ascend the staircase. You find Aemond in the master bedroom, the same accommodations that Jace laid claim to when he was still alive. He is sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at the wall, at nothing. Tentatively, you sit down beside him, placing the candle on the nightstand.

“Aemond…what happened to Jace…it wasn’t your fault.”

“Criston said I was in charge, that’s the very last thing he told me. They might be the last words I ever hear from him, and I just…” His voice breaks; he wipes the rain and tears from his face with open palms. “I really wanted to get everyone home.”

“I’m so sorry about what I said at the bowling alley,” you confess, like it’s a dire secret. “I don’t want to fight with you, Aemond, I…I want to help you. I can see what you’ve done for everyone here, me and Rio included, and I believe in you. I want to be a part of this.”

He nods, an acceptance of peace, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Can we start over? I’ll never bring it up again, okay? I wasn’t trying to guilt you or upset you or anything. I should have just dropped it. I overreacted. And I understand why being with someone like me maybe wouldn’t be…super appealing.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

Aemond wrings his hands, shakes his head, at last turns to you, golden candlelight reflected in his eye, his scar cloaked in shadows. His words are hushed, clandestine, soft powerless surrender. “I’m already so afraid of losing you.”

He cares, he hopes, he wants me too? “I’m here right now, Aemond. I don’t know what else I can say. I’d promise you more if I could.”

He reaches out to touch you, to ghost his thumb across your cheekbone, wet with rain. Then he kisses you, so gently you cannot help but imagine the wispy borders of calm white summer clouds, the rustle of leaves as wind blows down the Appalachian Mountains. You don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking, what it feels like. You can read it in the startled, firelit wonder on his face.

You taste like the beginning of something, here at the end of the world.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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photo1030 · 27 days ago

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Leather and Lace - A Thanksgiving Feast

Summary: You decide to prepare an elaborate dinner for everyone in the gang.

A/N: This is an idea I had as a detail to a chapter of my other fic, but decided to break it out as a "Thanksgiving one-shot". Just a heads up, this is not that great, and I tried to keep it short and simple, so it is not as elaborately written as my other stuff. Sorry it's a bit late, too. (Story of my life) Word count: 3867

**All images used here are not mine but from Pintrest. Coming from multiple reposts, I tried to find the owners, but no luck.

The wagons whine and creak as they roll their wooden bones along the dirt road. The smell of crisp decaying autumn leaves fills the air as their fragile, paperlike bodies blow through the wind. You watch with a smile as a handful of the dried leaves are blown in a circle, chasing each other like butterflies around the wagon wheels. The trees have long gone gold and bronze in color, the green grasses beginning to fade as Summer has stepped aside to let Autumn come to claim the world.

Hosea knows this area that you are traveling through well and had suggested that the gang drag itself down into the valley to lay low and relax for awhile. Over the last few days of travel, you were able to shake the law and things are looking up for the gang for once. You have some money in the box, everyone is accounted for, and no one is on your heels.

The weather is crisp and cool, but not too cold just yet as the calendar creeps into late fall. You are able to ride along on the wagon bench with your heavier coat on and a blanket draped across your lap and still be comfortable. Arthur sits to your right, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he drives the wagon along, cooing to the horses as they pull their burden and reassuring them when they trip or stumble.

You gaze upon his weathered face, grateful that he is still beside you. It's been a long, hard summer filled with dangerous jobs and narrow escapes from the law. There have been some close calls and a few new bullet holes in some of the men that they were luckily able to survive. But thankfully everyone is still alive and everyone is still together.

“Whatchu lookin’ at, Darlin’?” A smile crosses Arthur’s lips as he catches you staring out of the corner of his ocean-blue eyes.

“You.“ A contented sigh escapes your lips as you lean your head into his wide shoulders, shifting a bit closer to him. “I’m just so happy to be out of that town and find somewhere quiet for a bit.”

Arthur chuckles, patting your hand that has settled upon his knee. “You and me both, woman.”

The gang, tired as it is, rolls across the plains and into the outskirts of the valley. Before long, an old abandoned house comes into view like a welcoming beacon. Set off by itself, it’s old and weathered, looking to be empty for some time. But it appears to be solid and dry. And this looks like as good a place as any to set up camp for awhile.

Pulling up into the yard, Dutch hops down from The Count and begins to survey the new property as the rest of you watch with anticipation. He spins about, hand cautiously hovering over the gun in his holster. With a grin of satisfaction, Dutch eventually spins around back to the awaiting caravan and motions to the rest of the gang to begin setting up the new camp.

“Looks like this is it, then,” drawls Arthur, groaning as he hauls his stiff muscles up and off the wagon. You sigh with relief, as your backside could use a break from the long journey. Ms. Grimshaw is quick to bark orders and the gang is set into a flurry of motion. A few of the men investigate the house, making sure it is clear while everyone else begins to unpack the wagons. By late afternoon, once the tents and wagons go up and everyone has staked claim to their personal areas, you find yourself drawn to the house. It is a cozy structure with a large kitchen and dining area, a decent living room for gathering with two large bedrooms off the back and a large loft area. But it is the kitchen itself that has you captivated.

It’s been awhile since you have had the luxury of cooking in a “real kitchen”. You run your fingers over the smooth wooden counter top and cooking table as you linger in the room. You curiously check the stove, opening the oven door to investigate, noting the ash that was left from the last dinner prepared god knows how long ago. You wander about the kitchen, your eyes landing on the great wooden table. Oh, how wonderful it would be to be permanently settled in a house like this, you think.

The sound of chatter and boisterous laughter brings you out of your longing daydreams and draws you to the doorway. The gang has started the bonfire and has gathered around for the evening. You watch with a warm heart as they laugh and carry on, tired and worn, yet still carrying their shared bravado.

This is your family. These are your people. Times are lean, but everyone is together and you are so thankful for them. When you were at your lowest point in your life, Arthur found you and this group of misfits welcomed you in with open arms. They were there shining brightly, showing you that you were not meant to stay alone in the dark.

You overhear Mr. Pearson complaining to Ms. Grimshaw about needing to dig around in the chuck wagon for food and an idea begins to form in your mind. And there is a certain person you need for this little plan of yours. Looking over the group, you find the man in question.

Charles Smith is a quiet man, keeping to himself most days. He is a daring fighter and fierce ally, but his true skill is that he is a steadfast hunter and tracker. He is currently in his tent, fidgeting about to setup his living space when you approach him.

You make haste to head over to him, an air of excitement about your hurried steps and gleam of mischief in your expression as you stand outside his tent. “Hey, Charles, you got a second?”

Charles’ hands stop in their task and the man’s dark eyes look at you in surprise. “Sure, Y/N, what do you need? Anything wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. You mind helping me with something, though?”

—----------------------------------------

The next morning, the chilly morning air causes Arthur to fidget in his sleep. The cold, damp air makes his nose cold as it pokes out from the heavy woolen blanket he’s cocooned himself in. In his sleep-heavy state, Arthur reaches his thick, muscled arm out to pull you tighter to him, but his hand only finds an empty space and cool bedding. His eyebrows furrow in disappointment before his eyes can even split open. The empty feeling where your body would normally be pushed up against him now fully makes itself known in his mind. His eyes open to see the empty side of the cot and the tent void of your presence altogether.

“Y/N?” he calls out into the cool autumn air. The sun has yet to breach the treeline outside, leaving the morning in grey and lavender tones. He raises his head off the pillow, his hair rumpled from sleep and looks about, confused as he’s not sure where you’d be at this hour. It’s not unusual for you to be up before him, but you hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to be up and out so early. And when it’s chilly like this, you always take advantage of snuggling up to your outlaw when you can.

With slight agitation, Arthur gets up and out of bed, mumbling to himself as he throws his jeans on over his union suit and shoving his arms through his flannel shirt to set out to find you. Call it protective, call it love, but Arthur needs to know where you are at all times and will not rest until he does.

Noting the rising smoke from the chimney, Arthur heads towards the house, the frosty grass crunching beneath his worn boots. And it is here that he finds you, moving about in the kitchen in a flurry of activity. The whole house smells amazing, filled with spices and herbs. You flit about the room, checking bowls and stirring pots. Little wisps of hair have escaped your braid and frame your face, which is dusted with flour.

“What’s all this?” questions Arthur, smiling as he looks at all of the glorious containers spread out across the kitchen counter.

“Oh, Arthur!” You finally notice him standing there, leaning into the doorframe, arms crossed. “Good morning, love! I looked at Hosea’s calendar when I was helping him unpack and today is Thanksgiving, already. Can you believe it? So I’ve decided to give everyone a real Thanksgiving Feast.”

The very idea of it floors the outlaw. “No kidding?” His eyes light up at the thought of it. And before you can even discuss it further, the front door opens and more of the gang members file in, curious to know what’s going on. Everyone gasps in excitement when they see the food laid out in various stages of prep, the kitchen filled with burgeoning aromas.

Naturally wary, Dutch’s expression is grave at first, his hands landing on his hips. “What’s going on, here? Where did you get the money for all this?”

“Don’t worry, Dutch, I hardly spent anything at all!” You pause your work and wipe your hands on a towel. “Charles helped me hunt the wild turkeys early this morning. And the house has that garden in the back that still had some root vegetables left in it. I had to dig around a bit, but I was able to pull a decent basket of potatoes and turnips out of the dirt. And I checked with Mr. Pearson. I used our rationed flour and lard for the biscuits. And I’m using the apples that Jack helped me pick on the way to this place for the cobbler.” Your face lights up and your cheeks become red with excitement the more you talk about the delectable meal you have planned. “Although I did ask Charles to stop at the farmer’s place up the road for me. I don’t know about you, but I need fresh butter for biscuits.” You give Dutch a cheeky wink.

Dutch is left speechless, not really sure what to say. He looks over at Arthur for some sort of explanation for his woman’s behavior. But all Arthur can do is shrug and shake his head at your nonsense.

Meanwhile, everyone else stands in awe, not really sure what to say or do at such good fortune. They all stare at you and your bowls of food.

“Now, I do have one request, though.” Your voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Before everyone sits down at the table later, I ask that you all wash up and get cleaned up. This is a fancy affair, after all,” you tease.

“Well, now, that seems fair. It’s the least we could do,” smirks Hosea, his mouth already starting to water.

Ms. Grimshaw saunters to the kitchen table, picking up one of the aprons. “Well, Miss Y/L/N, this was your idea. What do you need us to do?” And you beam brightly at her in thanks for her cooperation.

You quickly put everyone to work setting up tables and chairs inside to make room for everyone to be able to sit together for once. The floors are swept and tables wiped down. The men carry in the heavy wooden furniture while the women set about to lay the table settings. And it fills your heart to see everyone pitching in, happy to partake in your exuberance. Everyone is quick to jump in to contribute to the dinner while you are busy cooking and prepping.

At one point, Ms. Grimshaw stands over the table, deep in thought. “You know, I have a tablecloth that I’ve tucked away for just such an occasion.” She taps her lips with a narrow finger before she disappears to her tent. The matron quickly returns, bringing a beautiful white linen cloth with blue flowers embroidered on the sides. She fluffs the fabric in the air and your eyes glint with excitement as it floats softly down to settle over the wood of the dining table.

Tilly and Mary-Beth pick some flowers and leaves to decorate the tables. Charles has some deer antlers he carved down into decorations to set about. Before long, Dutch shuffles in with a few bottles of wine from his stash in his arms.

“Here, I thought this may brighten up the dinner tonight,” he muses, placing them down in the middle of the table.

You quickly squeal with excitement and give him a rib-crushing hug, making his dark features blush. “Oh, Dutch, that’s wonderful! Thank you!”

And the contributions don’t stop there. Everyone is inspired to contribute. Pearson has some brandy he’s been hoarding and sets it on the table in offering as well. Hosea has a jar of apricot preserves that he has tucked away and offers it up for your biscuits. Strauss has some fancy tea that he shares to be served after dinner with the apple cobbler.

At one point Arthur comes into the kitchen wanting to help and fidgets next to you, wiping his hands together. “So, uh, what do you need me to do?” You smile sweetly and hand him an apron. His pauses, staring at the fabric in your hand. He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re joking, right?”

His hesitancy makes you chuckle. “Yes, Arthur, I am only joking.” You reassuringly pat his chest, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. The most notorious outlaw in the tri-state area should not be seen in a woman’s apron. Although if you asked him to, he could hardly say no. “But, you know what you can do for me, Arthur?”

“Name it, sweetheart.”

“Can you make sure there is plenty of firewood in the fireplace and grab the oil lamps and candles before it gets too dark?”

“Right. That, I can do.” He taps the tip of your nose with a thick finger and then heads back outside, yelling for John. “C’mon, Marston! Get your ass over here and help me!”

You and Mr. Pearson work tirelessly to prepare a big feast and before long, you have a beautiful table set. Candles glisten and the fire pops and glows in the fireplace. Javier sits in the living room, softly strumming music while people are relaxing, waiting for dinner. Uncle even picks up his banjo and a few people start dancing.

John sits at the dining table with Jack on his lap, telling him stories and trying to be a good father for once while Arthur sits with a cigarette dangling from his lips as he sketches the beautiful scene in his journal. This is a rare moment for the gang, a luxury they rarely get to experience, and he wants to capture every moment, every detail. He sketches the delightful table with its earthy decorations and mismatched dishes and glasses. He draws you in the kitchen, standing over the stove, stirring a pot of heavenly aromas.

As you begin to set the food upon the table, you catch movement by the front door out of the corner of your eye. Looking up, you see Kieran lingering outside. His face carries an expression of longing mixed with apprehension, his eyes shimmering with the slight sheen of unshed tears. But he will not cross that threshold, as he is not sure if he is welcome inside, let alone at your table. Kieran’s eyes go wide when he realizes you’ve caught him there.

“Kieran,” you call his name softly as you cross the dining area to him.

“I-I didn’t want to intrude. But I-I made something for your table, Miss Y/L/N. It’s not fancy, but I wanted to offer something, too.” He extends a slightly trembling hand to you and places a wreath into your hands to decorate the table. Upon close inspection, you discover that it is braided with horse-hair and he’s woven a few leather straps and beads into it as decoration.

Your eyes skip over it as your fingers rotate the delicate item in your hands. “Oh, Kieran, it’s lovely!”

“Really?” he asks, not expecting his meager gift to be accepted, let alone appreciated. “I’m sorry it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect.” You place your hand along his bicep in profuse thanks. “Why don’t you come in and join us?” And you motion him to step inside.

The man blinks at you as if he cannot understand what you’ve just asked.

“Oh yes! Come in, Kieran. You can sit next to me!” exclaims Mary-Beth as she pats the chair next to her. And judging by the look on his face, you’d have thought someone had just given Kieran the sun, moon and stars all wrapped up in one. The thin man gratefully rushes into the warm dining room, eager to join Mary-Beth. You have to nudge Arthur in the shoulder when he rolls his eyes at the two young people sitting next to each other, sharing awkward glances.

Finally, the two turkeys that Charles helped you hunt are the last to make it to the table. You take off your apron and wipe your hands with the dish towel, ready to reveal the fine feast you’ve prepared. With your hands on your hips in satisfaction you call everyone to the table. “Okay, everyone! Let’s all sit down and eat!”

The gang excitedly shuffles into the dining room, their eyes wide and eager to take in the food and beautiful table as they find themselves a place to sit. Dutch sits at the head of the table, of course, with Molly to his right. Arthur lands to Dutch’s left, and he lifts his face to make sure you are to be seated right next to him. You smile as you lean over to place your lips gently to Arthur’s forehead, his eyes closing as you do.

The room is filled with the scraping of the chairs along the wooden floor and excited chatter. You begin to pass the dishes filled with streaming food around the table, everyone inhaling the aromas of seasoned meat, herbed vegetables, and warm bread and biscuits. Your chest fills with pride as you watch their reactions. Especially Hosea. The old man may not be seeing too many more meals like this. And you try not to stare as his eyes mist a bit as he takes in the sight of his family all together.

“Before we begin, Reverend, would you do the honors of a prayer for us, please?” Your soft voice cuts through the chatter and everyone quickly hushes and turns expectant gazes to the man. The Reverend swallows thickly at being put on the spot, not sure if he’s up to the task. It’s been awhile since he’s given any sort of prayer or sermon that anyone cared to listen to. But when you encouragingly wave him to stand, the reverend takes a deep breath and steals his nerves. Rev. Swanson clears his throat and surprisingly everyone bows their head, hands folded neatly in their laps or on the table. And he delivers an eloquent, beautiful prayer.

“Amen”, chants everyone when he’s finished.

“Alright. Let’s dig in!” you chirp. And you watch as everyone shovels forkfuls of the food into their mouths.

And Micah? The scraggly outlaw sits quietly at the end of the table, a little uncomfortable and awkward at the nicety of it all. His fingers absentmindedly rub together as he stares down at his plate full of the delicious food before lifting his gaze to watch you as you spoon food onto Arthur’s plate as he in turn holds the large bowl for you. Such the image of perfect domesticity. Such the image of home.

Micah coughs nervously and stands, shifting his weight from hip to hip before turning towards the front door to leave.

“Where are you going, Micah?” you call out to him, your angelic voice halting him in his tracks.

“This ain’t for me.” He sweeps his arm out towards the table. “I’d rather go sit with my horse.”

At first you think Micah is just being as ass as usual. But then you notice how his hands clench open and close, his eyes darting around the floor to avoid your gaze.

You get up from the table and walk over to him. “Why don’t you sit and stay awhile, Micah?” you ask gently.

Micah finally meets your gaze, staring into your lovely eyes, his tobacco-stained mustache twitching as his lips purse in thought. “Because,” he counters with a cheeky grin, “I’m sure you all don’t want me here ruining everything. So I’ll take my plate and go eat with Baylock.” He takes a few steps back to the table, reaching to pick up his full plate.

“And that’s my gift for the table, Y/N.” Micah shoots you a grin and a wink before he quietly slips out the door. You stand there staring at the closed door, dumbfounded at Micah’s surprising selflessness.

But Hosea’s fatherly voice snaps your attention. “Come on, Y/N, get some food before it’s all gone.” Turning your face over your shoulder, the old man’s grey eyes crinkle warmly at you.

“Coming,” you smile at him and head back to the table to your place at Arthur’s side.

For once, there is an evening of no drama, no fighting. Everyone is laughing and getting along as they all sit together at the table. And for one precious moment, they can all forget that they are outlaws and pretend they are a proper family sitting around a table having a fine dinner like regular folks. Things may be low for the gang right now but they are not desperate, and they are all thankful for it. And you are grateful for your family and are beside yourself with pride that you were able to do something like this for them.

The night is filled with excitable laughter and shared stories. Dutch and Hosea regale everyone with tales of the good ol’ days. And everyone gets a good laugh when Bill gets his knuckles rapped more than once for trying to pick at the food with his dirty fingers instead of using utensils.

You sit back and take in the sight, your chest about to burst with happiness.

Arthur reaches over and clasps his hand around yours, engulfing it with his strong fingers. You look at each other and smile, that smile that you often exchange like there’s a secret you both know and together, you've found what the rest of the whole world has been searching for.

“Are you happy, baby? Is this what you wanted?” His eyes twinkle beyond the wrinkled crow’s feet at the corners as he lifts his chin towards the table of friends.

“Yes, Arthur” you whisper. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

He brings your hand up to kiss the back of your fingers. “I am thankful for a lot of things in my life,” he hums, “but nothing as much as I am thankful for you.”

Masterlist

@appalachiancowboy99 - *Thanks for being the sounding board, yet again! <3

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

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ominousvibez · 2 months ago

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Okay I'm still thinking about the Amity Park in Ohio thing so here's my proposal for this idea:

Reasons That Amity Park Should Be in Ohio (By Someone Who's Lived In Ohio For 2+ Years)

#1 It's Definitely A Great Lake State

Amity Park has never been stated to be officially in one specific state, just vaguely central United States, possibly somewhere around the Great Lakes area. That specific area is often referenced by other characters in the show. Urban Jungle shows Undergrowth's roots stretching out from this general area, and the Lake Eerie mentioned in the show might just literally be Lake Erie.

Of course it's kinda cartoony and I honestly have no idea if those mountains in the bottom right corner are meant to be the Appalachia area or not but it vaugely looks like the Great Lakes area

Because of this screenshot, I think most of the fandom headcanons Amity Park to be somewhere in Illinois, possibly close to Chicago, but we can basically point at any Great Lakes state and say "yeah that fits".

For my non-American friends, it's this general area of America (specifically Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio)

But I'd also like to say that cartoons do have a tendency to fudge some details about geography (or completely change the states a la Steven Universe) so the map might not be 100% accurate. But with the map, it could technically be any Great Lakes State, so why not OHIO?

Which btw I'm going to be counting as a Midwest state for this analysis. Some people can argue it isn't, but from my experience living here in Ohio there are a lot of Midwestern tendencies. It's more like Ohio is the border state between the Eastern states and the Midwest, so it gets a mix of both.

B*tch H*rtman (as much as we don't like to talk about him) was also born in Michigan, which is a state in the Midwest, so some of Amity Park could be based (consciously or not) on the towns he grew up in there. But because of him I'm ruling out Michigan the state as a whole and Wisconsin for states Amity Park could be in.

#2 It Takes Four Days To Get To Wisconsin, Apparently?

In Season 1, Episode 7, when they travel to Vlad's mansion in Wisconsin, Jazz says it will take "four days" to get from Amity Park to Vlad's Mansion (Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin, basically). The geography is a little off for every midwestern/Great Lakes state except maybe New York if you're gonna count that but Amity Park does not feel like it'd be in New York state.

Ohio is the furthest Midwest Great Lakes state from Wisconsin. Case closed there. Of course, it doesn't take four days to get from Ohio to Wisconsin. It can roughly vary from 10 to 15 hours, depending on route options (such as avoiding highways and stuff), but still.

It's a road trip, so it makes more sense that they'd take longer to get there-- plus realistically people don't tend to drive 10 hours on a road trip, they probably stopped through the trip and spent the night in their RV.

#3 They Got Beaches?

Amity Park does exist near a body of water. It isn't clear if it's a lake, river, or ocean in the show. It could be a lake. There's also the area in Frightmare, where Nocturne literally takes up space in some sort of port building/factory that gives the audience the assumption that it's on a pier/port. So they're really next to a body of water.

There is also the summer camp that Danny and his friends attend in Claw of the Wild which is said to be on Lake "Eerie". Which could easily just be Lake Erie, the lake that Ohio is on.

Also Camp Skull and Crossbones?? What an iconic camp name. You could say the name is pretty,,,,,, camp (ba dum tss).

#4 Ohio's Just Like... Very Haunted

Ohio has kinda become a meme recently. Not just one specific part of Ohio, but the entire state. The memes are mostly good fun-- like how the state is mostly just corn -- but I think some of the ~vibes~ of Ohio just fit right.

Like, there's no definite way to say which U.S. State is the most haunted (I think either the New England area or maybe Louisiana could take the #1 spot) but Ohio is definitely something else. Of course, we have the baby bridges and the haunted penitentiaries like Ohio State Penitentiary, but there are some interesting places that could be played with, too.

For one, there's an entire abandoned town called Helltown, Ohio, where rumors are cultists perform Satantic rituals, mutant creatures roaming the city created by an oil spill, and even a giant snake? There's also a place literally called the Gateway to Hell, too, which is right behind a Tim Horton's (oddly fitting).

Bobby Mackey's is also in Ohio! If you've ever seen Buzzfeed Unsolved, you know what I'm talking about.

There are also less hell-related spooky things in Ohio. Like, Lake Erie has its own Monster! We call her Bessie. Danny could definitely befriend Bessie!!!

#5 It'd Be Funny

It'd be funny for Amity Park to be in Ohio. The Most Haunted Place in America to be in Ohio is just kinda funny. With how "cursed" of a reputation Ohio seems to have in a larger cultural context, doesn't it kinda just fit?

TLDR:

Ohio is a very cursed state, has a lot of supernatural lore to it, and I think Amity Park would fit in both thematically and almost geographically. Of course, other Midwestern States like Illinois do fit the bill, too, in this argument. But I am a firm "Amity Park is in Ohio" supporter.

#danny phantom #dp #ominous writing #kinda?? i guess????#analysis #ominous posts #all my DP fics are now set in ohio #i'd honestly put amity park to be central ohio just based off vibes but for some reason they're like next to a huge lake/body of water??#so i guess somewhere on the lake. maybe between cleveland and toledo #again i've only been here for two years. so keep that in mind #Amity Park could also be by a river but being by a lake makes more sense to me. idk #also let me know if i should add a read more to this it feels kinda long

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ducktoo · 2 months ago

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Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

34. Sun and Moon

Note: This was a lot of fun to write….potentially one of my fav chapters yet.

Masterlist here

Continuing their deserved break, the group has been lounging around their house. While Karina, Giselle and Ningning loved it since it has been a while they had been stationary, Winter had a different idea, contradict to her MBTI. She approached Y/n with a proposition that had been on her mind for a while.

“Hey, Y/n?” Winter called out softly, standing at the entrance of his room. Her tone was quieter than usual, carrying a sense of vulnerability.

Y/n, who was sprawled out on his bed, glanced up from his phone. A bit perplexed actually, considering she barely called him by his name “What’s up?”

Winter shifted slightly, as if trying to find the right words. “I was wondering… Would you like to take a trip with me? Just for a day.”

“A trip?” Y/n sat up, intrigued. “Where to?”

“Sokcho,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face. “I just thought… we could use some fresh air, you know? Plus, I’ve been wanting to spend some time with you. Just the two of us.”

Y/n raised his eyebrows in surprise. Sokcho was known for its scenic beauty and peaceful environment, far from the bustling life they’d been living lately. It sounded like a nice escape.

“I mean, yeah. That sounds great,” Y/n said, trying to play it cool despite feeling a bit nervous. “When do you want to go?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re free?” Winter asked, her voice soft.

Y/n nodded. “Aight sure. Go sleep then."

"Mhm. Night"

"Night." Right as Winter retreated into her room, Y/n glanced at the other girls, a mixture of smirk and intrigue adorned on their face.

"Ooooh, that's what you called a date, Y/n-oppa." Ningning wooed.

"Bring protection~" Giselle joked.

"Finally, they're moving." Karina sighed.

The trip to Sokcho began in the early hours of the morning. Y/n and Winter piled into the car, the city lights of Seoul fading into the distance as the sun peeked over the horizon. However, despite the peaceful atmosphere of the drive, there was an undeniable awkwardness between them. After Winter’s confession a few weeks ago, this was the first time they had hung out alone.

Y/n glanced at Winter, who sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone in silence. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words felt caught in his throat.

What was he supposed to say?

That he was happy she kissed him?

That he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since?

Winter, on her end, stole a few glances at him as well, but the silence remained. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet they usually shared, but something heavier—like both of them were waiting for the other to make a move.

The tension lingered as they made their way through the winding roads toward Sokcho. Y/n tried to make small talk, pointing out random things like the scenery or asking Winter what kind of music she wanted to listen to. She responded, but it was clear neither of them was fully comfortable just yet.

When they finally arrived in Sokcho, the morning had turned into a bright, sunny afternoon. They parked the car and wandered through the town, the salty sea breeze filling the air. Still, the awkwardness persisted.

“So… where to first?” Y/n asked, scratching the back of his neck, trying to break the lingering awkwardness from earlier.

Winter’s eyes sparkled as she scanned the busy streets. “Food stalls,” she declared confidently, turning to Y/n with a grin. “I didn’t come all the way to Sokcho just to see the ocean. I want to try everything.”

Y/n chuckled, relieved that Winter was starting to sound more like her usual self. “Lead the way then, foodie.”

They walked side by side through the bustling streets, the smell of freshly grilled seafood and sweet treats filling the air. Vendors called out to them, tempting them with colorful displays of skewers, hotteok, and deep-fried shrimp.

Winter spotted a vendor selling grilled octopus and tugged on Y/n’s sleeve. “Look at that! We have to try it.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You sure? That looks intense.”

Winter shot him a playful glare. “What, are you scared of a little octopus? Come on, don’t be such a wimp.” She handed over a few bills to the vendor, receiving a sizzling skewer in return.

She took a bite first, her eyes widening in delight. “Oh my god, this is so good! You’ve gotta try it.”

Y/n hesitated before taking a bite. His face lit up almost instantly. “Okay, I take it back. This is amazing.”

“See? Trust me when it comes to food,” Winter said, smugly handing over another skewer.

They continued to wander, stopping at different food stalls to sample everything from spicy tteokbokki to crispy hotteok. Each bite was better than the last, and Y/n found himself enjoying the simplicity of the day. The food stalls provided an easy distraction from any lingering awkwardness, and the banter between them slowly returned to normal.

At one point, Winter found a stall selling local specialties—Ojingeo Sundae (squid stuffed with noodles and vegetables). She eyed it curiously. “This looks wild.”

Y/n leaned over her shoulder, making a face. “That’s… a lot of squid.”

Winter shot him a teasing look. “What? Afraid again?”

“I’m not afraid of squid,” Y/n replied defensively, folding his arms. “I just think it’s… ambitious.”

She smirked, buying the dish despite his protests. As they ate, she laughed at the face Y/n made, his expression shifting between curiosity and hesitation with every bite. “You’re such a baby,” she teased.

Y/n grimaced as he chewed. “I’m starting to question your taste buds, honestly.”

After their impromptu food tour, they made their way through the narrow streets, browsing small boutiques and traditional shops. Winter immediately gravitated towards a small store selling handmade jewelry, her eyes sparkling at the delicate pieces on display.

“Look at this,” Winter said, holding up a bracelet made of polished sea glass. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Y/n nodded. “It suits you.”

Winter smiled, placing it back on the display. “You think?”

They continued wandering, passing by stores filled with trinkets, clothes, and small souvenirs. Winter’s curiosity led them into a quaint, old bookstore, its wooden shelves filled with old editions of Korean literature and classic novels.

Y/n picked up a dusty book from one of the shelves, flipping through the yellowed pages. “You know, if you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be spending a day off like this, I’d have laughed.”

Winter glanced over at him, her expression softening. “What do you mean?”

“I guess I just never thought I’d be here,” Y/n said, placing the book back. “With you, exploring Sokcho, being… well, normal.”

Winter smiled at that, her fingers brushing over the spines of the books. “I like it. It’s nice to have these quiet moments.”

Would you look at that. They were talking easily again, just like old times.

By the time they made their way to the beach, the sun had started its descent, casting a golden glow across the water. They found a quiet spot away from the crowds and sat down, watching the waves crash against the shore.

Winter leaned back, resting her arms on the bench, her eyes closed as she soaked in the sunlight. “This is perfect,” she murmured, her voice soft.

Y/n watched her for a moment, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. It was easy to forget their busy lives when moments like these came around—quiet, unassuming, and filled with a kind of warmth that was rare.

Well, Winter had been way too quiet for the past few minutes, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Y/n, sensing that something was on her mind, turned to her. "You okay, Jeong?"

Winter sighed softly, resting her chin on her knees. "Do you remember when we first met? Like, way back when we were kids?"

Y/n blinked, a bit surprised by the question. "Yeah, of course. I think it was... what, third grade?"

Winter nodded, her lips curling into a small, nostalgic smile. "We were so different back then. You were always getting into trouble, and I was too shy to talk to anyone except you."

Y/n chuckled. "Ok, I wasn’t that bad. I was just a bit more energetic than others."

"You were," she countered, laughing. "But you were also the one who made me feel comfortable enough to come out of my shell. You were my first real friend."

The fondness in her voice made Y/n’s chest tighten. "I guess I was kind of your manager back then, huh?"

"it’s basically your fate at this point." Winter joked.

"Oh god, you're right." Y/n laughed. "My destiny is already predetermined as a child."

Winter smiled softly, her eyes twinkling with the memories. "Well, you always stood up for me when the older kids teased me. I’ve never forgotten that. I guess… I never really stopped depending on you."

Y/n looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. "Well, We's been looking for each other our whole life."

"..you did not just quote Sun and Moon just then." Winter gasped.

"I just did." Y/n rubbed his nose, seemingly proud. "But yea, I always had your back, Minjeong. You know that."

Winter nodded slowly, taking in his words. Her attention wasn't anywhere else but at her childhood friend.

There was a beat of silence, the only sound being the gentle rhythm of the waves. Then, her voice came out soft, almost hesitant. "Back then, I never really understood why I liked being around you so much. But now… I think I do."

Y/n’s heart raced, unsure of where this was headed. "What…do you mean?"

Winter’s fingers toyed with the sand between them, her expression thoughtful. "Remember when I kissed you after the world tour? You thought it was a prank, but…”

Winter took a deep breath, removing her inner doubts. “…I meant it, Y/n. It wasn’t just some joke."

Y/n blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "You… what?"

Winter turned to face him fully, her eyes filled with a mix of nerves and sincerity. "I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I didn’t know how to say it. I thought that kiss would get the message across…but I disguised it as a prank to make it easier…"

Y/n sat there, speechless. The confession he’d been waiting for was finally out in the open, but he hadn’t expected it to come with so much emotional weight. His mind raced as he tried to process everything she had just said. "Minjeong, I—"

"I know it’s a lot," she cut him off gently. "And I don’t expect you to say anything back right away. I just wanted you to know the truth."

"I wasn't joking at all, and you" she pointed at him.

"Jung Y/n, completely stole my heart." She gave him her signature smile, but it looked so sweet at that moment.

And Y/n couldn't hold it anymore.

"…gahhhh you beat me to it." Y/n flopped down to the soft sand, the pressure finally was off his shoulder. He gave out a satisfying sigh, confusing his childhood friend.

"Beat me?" Winter tilted her head. "You mean…"

"Exactly what you think it is." Y/n connected his gaze with hers. "You, Kim Minjeong…also completely stole my heart."

"…Really?" Winter whimpered, surprised by the confession.

"Mhm." Y/n nodded. "I’ve liked you too, for a long time now actually. I just… I didn’t know how to bring it up either. I thought I might ruin our relationship if I said anything."

Winter’s eyes softened, her hand reaching out to rest on top of his. "Ya, you could never ruin what we have. Not with something as long as our relationship."

The simple gesture and her words made something inside Y/n relax. He squeezed her hand gently, the tension that had built up between them all day dissolving into a warm, mutual understanding.

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of their confessions sink in. The sun was beginning to set fully now, casting long shadows across the sand. Y/n’s heart was pounding in his chest, but for the first time since the kiss, he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

Winter stood up, brushing the sand off her jeans before turning to Y/n with a playful smile. "Come on, let’s walk."

"Oh you forgot something.." Y/n pointed.

"Huh? Where?" Winter frantically looked around her seating area before realizing a pair of lips touched her forehead.

Y/n kissed her forehead! Minjeong got red so fast!

"Revenge for the prank." Y/n smiled. "Crybaby"

"Tsk, whatever, idiot." Still with the same nickname, but this time they knew that it was theirs and only theirs.

They strolled along the beach, the waves lapping gently at their feet. The conversation flowed more easily now, their earlier nervousness replaced by the comfort of knowing where they stood with each other.

After a while, Winter nudged him lightly. "You know, I think this trip was exactly what we needed."

Y/n smiled, glancing over at her. "Yeah. I think so too."

They walked in companionable silence, the air between them light and easy. When they finally made their way back to the car, the sky had darkened, the stars just beginning to peek out.

As they drove back to Seoul, the radio played softly in the background. The familiar tune of Sun and Moon drifted through the speakers, and Winter turned it up, grinning at Y/n. "Your favorite."

Y/n chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Yeah, it is. I quoted from it a while ago, if you didn't notice.”

"Freaking hell…" Winter facepalmed, but soon followed by a chuckle. Whatever their relationship label is, the actual bond remained the same.

Idiot and crybaby.

By the time they returned to the dorm later that evening, the other members were already lounging in the living room, clearly waiting for them. The moment Y/n and Winter walked through the door, all eyes were on them.

“So,” Karina said, a teasing grin on her face, “how was your little trip?”

Y/n and Winter exchanged a glance before Winter replied with a smirk, “It was nice. Peaceful.”

“Peaceful, huh?” Giselle raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re going to tell us?”

Ningning, who was sprawled out on the couch, giggled. “Come on, guys. Let them have their secrets. We already know what happened but we'll dig it out eventually.”

Y/n rolled his eyes playfully, knowing the teasing wasn’t going to end anytime soon. But for once, he didn’t mind. He was happy. And so was Winter.

As the night wore on and the group settled into their usual banter, Y/n caught Winter’s eye from across the room. She gave him a small, knowing smile, and he felt his heart flutter.

Things were different now. But in the best way possible.

As Y/n sat back, watching his chaotic yet beloved group of friends (and his new girlfriend), he knew that:

"'Cause together, there's no way we'll lose Just us two, every time"

- Winter, 2024

#aespa #aespa x reader #kpop #aespa giselle #aespa karina #aespa ningning #aespa winter #karina #ningning #giselle #aespa x you #aespa x male reader #aeri uchinaga #winter x reader #minjeong x reader #kim minjeong #ning yizhuo #yoo jimin #x reader

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noaltbruh · 1 year ago

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@multifandom-hcs Hope you're having a good day too! :))

Bruno and Hermes dating hcs ❤️

Hermes 💋

Chaotic gf. I don't know if you're an introvert or an extrovert, but she will most definitely be more hyped than you for anything.

Loves to try new things with you and go on all sorts of date! From carnivals, to road trips, to that one random place you saw and you're not quite sure if it's a restaurant or a sex shop, but you'll find out together!

Wakes you up at three am. because she just got an idea for what you could do together and you have to do it NOW.

Big on PDA, she's constantly touching you or holding you near her even when you're in public, HECK ESPECIALLY when you're in public.

Loves to show you off to the Stone Ocean gang and can't shut up about how great her partner is.

Definetely teases you and gets even mushier with you if she sees you getting shy.

She'll speak up and stand up for you in any situation, whether that is a stand battle or someone cut in line in front of you.

Always has the biggest grin on her face as soon as she sees you.

Loves to drag you in troubles, but she honestly just wants to have fun with you. Don't worry, if things get out of hand, she knows how to handle policemen.

I think her kisses would be a bit rough, like you can just feel how eager she is to feel her lips on your body.

Is literally always complimenting you and your look, calling you hot, beautiful, handsome, pretty...Whatever you prefer!

"Breath taking as usual, caro/cara!" "I'm...Literally in my pajamas" "Your point?"

Shoplifts for you, I'm sorry. Like- maybe you just saw a cool jewel in a shop and told her you liked it, without really thinking much about it. The next day, you find that exact jewel at your front door.

Opens up about her past and how much she misses her sister, it's one of the few times she genuinely seems sorrowful.

Would love you even more if you accepted to visit her sibling's grave with her. She might cry on your shoulder, so please comfort her.

On a more optimistic note, if she visits her on his own, she even talks to her and you and how awesome you are.

She lets you keep your stuff in her tits without even having to ask her, it's just routine for you two by now.

Loves to do your makeup. Alternatively, if you don't wear it, she still asks you if she can try it on you because she's fully convinced you'd look great with it.

VERY flirty and completely shameless about it, no matter who is watching.

Can't cook lol, but she will gladly take you to any restaurant you like and she'll offer to pay for both of you!

...Yeah, pay.

Bruno 🤐

The boyfriend ever.

He's so romantic and gentle he literally makes me want to cry because he's so perfect and VSGABCAHZCSS.

Just being near him makes you feel safe, you'll never have to fear being judged as long as this man is your partner.

He's calm and understanding. No matter if something is troubling you or you're simply in a bad mood just because, he'll never lose his patience with you.

Encourages you in everything you do, whether that is a small task or a lifelong goal you're trying to pursue, Bruno will always be ready to support you and help you in any way possible.

Might be a bit busy from time to time due to his job, but he makes you to call and text you anytime he gets the chance too. He loves hearing your voice and he wants to be sure that you're doing alright.

He never closes a phone call without an "I love you, tesoro" at the end.

Will make up for the time he missed once he gets back home. He'll do whatever you want to and there aren't limits to how much he's willing to spend for his love.

Do you want to go on a trip to France for the weekend? He already has two tickets and a reservation in the best hotel of the city.

Remember that very fancy restaurant in the city center? Guess who has already reserved a table for two with a beatutil view on the entire city?

Truthfully, however, Bruno enjoys anything as long as he gets to spend it with you. Despite his role in the mafia, he also loves simpler, everyday life with his partner.

Even just going to the local market to buy something together makes him so incredibly happy, and gives him a sense of normality in the mess that's his life.

Not super big on showing affection in public, at least not as much as Mista or Narancia- but he always maintains even a small touch between you.

He loves to hold your hand as you walk, lets you hold on to his arm, or he wraps his arm around your waist.

Way more touchy and flirty in private. Bruno is smooth and knows excabtly where to provoke you or what to tell you to make you blush.

He puts his hand under your chin or on your cheek if you were to look away from him. You can see his proud, little smirk on his face.

The best cook in the gang, male wife material. His fish dishes are the best you'll ever try in your entire life.

Speaking of that, he'd love to go fishing with you. It reminds him of the time he spent with his father and sees it as a way to continue his family traditions. After all, you are his future wife/husband.

He has the kindest look on his face while explaining to you how to fish and it makes me want to explode.

He loves to massage your shoulders, for some reason. Maybe because it helps you relax, but it just feels very intimate to him.

He rubs your back and kisses you on the forehead whenever he hugs you. His embrace is warm and you wish you never had to let go.

Gives you flowers or any sort of gifts on the most random occasions. Don't worry, buddy, you didn't forget and important date, he's just a sweetheart and wanted to give you a present to make you smile.

Also, since you're dating him, you'll now have to take care of five children, aka the gang. I'm sorry, but you did this to yourself the moment you became his partner.

Don't worry, Abbacchio will help you... Perhaps.

On a more serious note, Bruno would love to have a family with you in the future. This man is MADE to raise children, adopted or not, anything is fine for him.

He thinks you'd be a great parent, but of course, if you don't want to be, he'll never force it on you :)

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lilac-5ky · 1 year ago

Text

The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday

Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)

Word Count: Slightly under 9k.

A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙

Masterlist | Requests | AO3

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.

There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.

“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.

You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.

We are going to die.

Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.

“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”

“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”

“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”

Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.

Not yours, at least.

“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”

“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.

“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”

“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”

Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.

You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.

But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.

The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.

Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.

The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.

You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.

Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.

“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”

You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.

“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”

“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”

“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”

“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.

“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.

Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.

“I thought your eyes were closed!”

“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”

“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.

“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”

You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.

You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.

“Are you mad?”

The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.

“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.

“Re…lieved?”

“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”

“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”

“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”

“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”

He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.

You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”

His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.

“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”

You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.

“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”

By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.

You are relieved.

“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.

“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”

“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”

“Actually…”

You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.

“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”

“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”

You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.

You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.

“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”

“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.

“And?”

“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”

“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”

“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”

His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.

“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.

“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.

“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.

“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.

Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.

“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”

“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”

“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.

“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”

“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.

After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.

“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”

Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.

“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.

“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”

“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”

“Aww!”

“Eww!”

“Gross!”

The reactions vary.

“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.

“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”

“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.

Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.

You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”

“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”

“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.

“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”

“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”

“Sixteen minutes late—”

The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.

“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”

You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?

“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”

Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.

“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!

“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”

“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”

“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”

Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”

The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.

Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.

You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.

Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.

In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.

“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”

Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!

“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”

“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”

His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.

“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”

Not true; you all did your part…

Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”

That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.

“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”

Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.

You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.

“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.

“Y-yeah.” You croak.

“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”

“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”

“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”

You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.

“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.

He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.

“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Nice job!”

“It wasn’t my intention!”

Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.

“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.

“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.

“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.

“You never are!”

“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.

You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.

“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.

“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.

“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.

She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”

“How about now?”

Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.

It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”

“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.

“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”

“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.

“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”

“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”

A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.

“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.

“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”

A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.

“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”

Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.

“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.

Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.

“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”

He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.

“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”

“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.

“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”

“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.

“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.

Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.

Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”

“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.

“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”

“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”

“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.

It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”

“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.

“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.

“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.

Nothing happens.

“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”

“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.

A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”

“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.

“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.

“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.

“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”

“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.

“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”

“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.

“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”

“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”

“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.

“Satoru!”

“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”

A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.

“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.

Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.

“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”

“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.

Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.

The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.

You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.

You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.

God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.

As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.

You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.

Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.

you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.

“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.

“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”

Horny bastard. Right on the money.

“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”

“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”

The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.

“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.

“These two.”

The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.

“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.

Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.

“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”

Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.

Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.

“Geto Suguru was—”

“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”

“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”

“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”

“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”

“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”

“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”

“Thank you!”

Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.

Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.

“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.

“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”

“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”

“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”

“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.

“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.

“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.

“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”

He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.

“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”

You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.

“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”

It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.

“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”

“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”

“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”

“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.

“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”

A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!

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