#i like my found families to stay FOUND and stay FAMILY

[hannieehaee]

EUPHORIA

18+ / mdi

summary: you've been inseparable with jungkook from the moment you landed in korea. from the initial language barrier to your group's immense success, you've remained dubbed as an iconic duo. but what will you do when a single moment changes everything between you?

content: idol!jungkook x idol!reader, f2l!jungkook, 8thfemalemember!reader, afab reader, reader is implied to be a foreign member of bts but you can assume all dialogue is supposed to be in korean, pretend this takes place during 2018/19 while they promoted fake love in the u.s, appearances from the other members, pining, miscommunication, dumb insecurities, smut, dry humping, body worship, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.5k

a/n: this is a very unrealistic concept but its fanfiction so we're just going to look past that ok!

masterlist | patreon

"That's not how you're supposed to do it."

You sighed, movements halting and your eyes closing in annoyance.

Turning to face the culprit of the comment, you reopen your eyes, ready to snark at the exact person you were expecting.

"Do you have to be the bane of my existence?"

He chucked at that, nodding at you to turn and face the mirror located behind you once more. It was foggy due to the inhuman amount of heavy breathing exchanged in the practice room, but you could still easily make yourself on it. And Jungkook too, of course.

Standing behind you, — with an offensive lack of distance between your bodies — he grabbed onto your arms from behind, helping you position yourself to perfection, even to the exact inch, of the move you were trying to perform. His eyes found yours on the mirror, giving you a short smile before beginning to guide you through the small transition you'd been struggling with.

"See? Like that," he said once finally letting go of you after walking you through it a few times. By the end, you had gotten it as perfectly as your choreographer had described to you a few hours ago.

"Thanks, Kook."

"Thought I was the bane of your existence?", he chuckled as he bent down to collect a water bottle, taking a sip before handing it to you.

You were usually more worried by boy germs than this, but Jungkook proved to be an exception through the past few years.

You swallowed your sip, "Yeah, but I still have manners."

"C'mon, we should head back to the dorms. You've been at this all day. You beat Jimin at hours logged into the practice room this week," it was meant lightheartedly, but it was true. You'd practically been living here for the past few days.

"Where are the guys?", you wondered out loud as you followed him out.

The dorms, as Kook had called them, were really just a small living space located within the building. There were talks of moving onto a larger building within the next couple of years, but for now you were content with your living arrangements. Despite all of you either owning property or having family outside of the company building, you and a few other members usually opted to stay there due to convenience. You and Jungkook were the main ones to do so.

"Well, we technically have the next few days off, so I'm pretty sure they went visit family while they can. We probably won't be back in Korea for a while after promotions start."

It was true. You were soon due to head to America to promote your newest comeback. This was the first time you'd be taking promotions out of Asia and into the west, which made all of you incredibly anxious. As the most fluent English speaker in the group, the task of being the group's representative should've fallen on you, but luckily Joon had decided he'd be taking the brunt of it for you.

Still, you were terrified to open yourselves up for a way bigger audience.

"You good?" Kook interrupted your thoughts.

"Yeah, Kook. Don't worry about it."

The two of you headed over to the elevators, pressing the button leading you to the floor where your rooms were located. It was likely no one else was in the building at this time — holy shit, was it really 3am? — meaning that you and Kook would likely get some well-deserved rest in the privacy of the dorms.

That was one of the few nice parts of belonging to what once was a very small company. You had no sibling groups as of yet, which kind of made you own the place (or at least that's how Taehyung would put it sometimes). Late at night, it was just you and your group mates with the occasional presence of staff. Though more commonly, it was just you and Kook opting to stay together into the depths of the night.

"Nervous about flying to the U.S?", he voiced when the metal doors closed in front of you, caging you in with your friend.

"Maybe. You're not?"

He shrugged, "It's just like any other performance. You should be the least nervous. You speak English. You already know what America's like."

"Me? I'm the only girl in the group. I'm gonna stand out like a sore thumb," you whined, earning a chuckle from him.

It was a rare situation, being a girl in a group full of men. Other co-ed groups existed within Kpop, but they usually held a better boy-to-girl ratio.

But this wasn't really the reason you were nervous.

Opening yourselves up to an entire new audience within a mere five years since debut was an entire new battle you'd have to face. Worst of all was that no other Kpop group had ever truly promoted in the west before now. You were given accolades as trailblazers, but at what cost?

"Hey," Jungkook called your attention again, gesturing you to follow him into the hallway that would lead you to your room, "C'mon, let's find something to take your mind off of this."

Leading you into his room rather than yours, he sat you on his couch as he went back out to peruse the kitchen of any food he could get for the two of you for an impromptu night indulging yourselves. You relaxed as you waited, appreciative of Jungkook immediately noticing your lack of ease and working towards getting you cooled down again.

He always did have a way of being in tune with your emotions that no one else did.

His room was spacious and tidier than the average for a man in his early 20's. It was common for you to spend time here rather than in your own room. You had always been one to wander in search of your bandmates, and Jungkook just so happened to be the most receptive to it of them all.

The click clank of bottles bumping into each other was your first indicator of his return, making you look up from the couch, unable to withhold a smile when you saw him balancing various bottles of soju in his arms while also attempting to carry a few packets of spicy ramen.

Getting up to help him, you aided him in setting down all his snacks on the coffee table, moving aside any remote and controller that was in the way. Your usual set up was established then, as it had countless times before. It consisted of you and Kook on his old couch (that he refused to replace from the old days in which you could barely afford any luxuries) with a variety of alcohol and snacks accompanying you through the night.

He took a seat on the floor while you remained on the couch. It was common for him. Something about being at optimal proximity to the food on the table.

"We've got two more nights left in Korea. What do you wanna do to spend the time? And no, practicing isn't allowed," he interrupted you before you could respond.

You huffed, shoulders slacking before going back to their usual posture, "Well, then I guess just this."

"Just this? My dorm and some soju?"

"Yep. We're going to be overwhelmed by people and schedules as soon as we leave Korea. Might as well enjoy the quiet alone time," you reasoned.

Jungkook hummed in pensiveness, "Does it really count as alone time if it's together?"

"I like my alone time better when I'm with you," was your response.

And you meant it too. The quiet sometimes became too quiet if Jungkook wasn't around. You'd known him since you were 15 and had been unable to imagine an existence without him since.

It was joked around by members and fans alike, that the two of you were attached to the hip. Some people would even call you a dynamic duo due to how often you were together with no distance between you. Of course, you were shipped and speculated as a couple, but that did nothing to deter your friendship.

Had you been a smarter person, you would've noticed Jungkook's bashful smile at your response. But you'd grown so used to his constant company that the idea of anything further than platonic did not compute in your brain. You weren't even sure if you were opposed to it; it was just nonexistent to you. It was as if he'd spawned as your friend one day and you never once stopped to question it.

"Well, let's enjoy it while we can," he finally responded as he handed you a now-opened bottle of soju.

Clanking bottles, you each took a small swing, settling in for a night that you'd likely not spend sleeping. You settled closer to Jungkook after that, letting yourself slide off the couch snd knocking shoulders with him as you took a seat on the softness of the rug under you.

"What do you wanna do to spend your last few nights of freedom?" you asked after some silence.

"I'll do whatever you want," his head fell to your shoulder, "We can just camp in here til they come get us for our flight on Monday."

You hummed in absentminded agreement, sipping at your drink a little more.

Jungkook turned to look at you then, slight bunny smile showing through.

"So, is tonight a blackout drunk night or do you wanna stay up and watch some movies?"

"Hmm. Maybe a mixture?", you suggested.

With a grin, he raised his bottle for yet another clink before taking a drink from it in tandem with you.

~

You spent the next two hours drinking and occasionally eating some of the chips you'd found hidden in Jungkook's secret stash. You'd both been too lazy to cook up the ramen Kook had brought, so you fell victims to drinking on almost empty stomachs. It didn't take long for the two of you to become tipsy.

Not fully drunk, yet very much loose and relaxed, the two of you became lethargic versions of yourselves. You lounged against one another, with any distance becoming nonexistent as you babbled about whatever came to mind.

The two of you discussed worries about the upcoming comeback, your feelings regarding your arrival to the U.S., gossip about mutual friends, and anything that could possibly come up. It went on until the point of exhaustion, though neither of you seemed to want to call it a night.

The clock sat at 6 with some change, but you'd not once gone to sleep to start the new day. You'd talked and laughed through it, forgetting anything else surrounding your life and simply existing with your best friend.

It was probably the most at ease you'd ever felt with Jungkook, and that was really saying a lot.

"Do you ever think about the future?", he asked after an extended period of comfortable silence.

"What future do you mean?"

"After being idols and all. Where do you see yourself?", your head was laying on his shoulder, but he still turned to look at you as he asked, never one to care for lack of personal space.

"I don't know," you responded truthfully, "Never really thought about it. You?"

"I, uh," he shuffled awkwardly a bit, "I'd like to be married, maybe. I always wanted to give my parents grandchildren."

You couldn't help but smile at the thought. Mini Jungkooks running around while the Main Jungkook chased them around. It was easy to picture. He'd always been good with kids.

"That'd be nice," you hummed, "What's got you thinking about that right now? You're only 21."

"Not sure, just ... I don't know, it's dumb, I guess."

"It's not dumb," you reassured, "What were you going to say?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, but you didn't push.

"I've just never been in a serious relationship. I'm almost 22 and most guys my age have already been in a relationship. Can we even do that? Look at the rest of the guys, none of them have any thoughts on settling down. And I know a few of them would like to someday," he found himself ranting, "I just ... I've always had that childish idea of romance and .. it's something I really want. But I don't think anyone would be willing to put up with this life just to be with me," he sighed, "So it'll either happen when I'm old and dried up, or not at all."

You sat up a bit, turning your head to face him. Your proximity could've been questionable to others, but it was just a regular Tuesday for the two of you. Space was just an unheard concept between you.

"Kook, you know that's not true. Any girl would kill to be with you, you have to know that."

You knew damn well it was true. It'd gotten to the point where a few staff members had to be let go through the past few years, having somehow been betted by the company when their only goal was proximity to him. Even at some point you'd had to cut off friendships that merely used you to get to him.

But you understood. It was Jungkook, after all. Anyone who didn't want him would be an idiot.

"I can count all my serious relationships with zero hands, Y/N. And it's not like it matters anyways. The girl I like wouldn't even look my way anyway," he had whispered the last part, looking away from you and sighing.

"You like someone? Why didn't you tell me?"

You were admittedly caught off guard. You'd known about every single one of Jungkook's crushes and relationships since you'd met. Hell, if he merely found a person pretty, you'd be the first to know about it. What made this one different? And what made it so important to him to have him mourn a relationship he felt he'd never even get to have?

He shrugged, "Makes me feel like a loser, I guess. Not like I wanna parade around telling everyone about the perfect girl for me not even giving me the time of day. It doesn't matter. It'd never work," he shrugged sadly.

That sounded ridiculous to you. Who could possibly not want him? Maybe it was the alcohol, but the thought made you unreasonably annoyed. If she didn't adore him as he deserved, then she sure as hell wasn't deserving of the tiniest bit of his attention.

"Kook, look at me," he obeyed, though lethargically, clearly hesitant in doing so, "Anyone who's not in love with you is a fucking idiot. You're so amazing and so nice and funny and talented and handsome. Anyone would kill to have a guy like you even look their way. God, I'd kill for someone like you."

It was the classic speech you'd give any lovesick friend, but you truly did mean it. Jungkook had always been perfect in your eyes. Sure, you teased and prodded at him whenever possible, but he was an adonis with a heart of gold. What else could a person want from a boyfriend? God, and the mere thought that he felt like he was lacking, like he'd never be able to have the family and the love he always wanted? It made you so incredibly–

Your internal monologue was never completed. Maybe they were just drunken rambles meant for yourself. Perhaps they were a little telling, showing you thoughts about Jungkook you hadn't realized you were so defensive about. But you didn't have time to really internalize that idea before your mouth was interrupted by something that weren't words.

A sigh was released against your lips the very moment Jungkook's connected to your own. It was a flat pressing of lips at first, but it was followed by a shy molding of his lips around your bottom one, a soft peck released against it before he attempted to keep it going.

You were too in shock to move, simply sitting there with your eyes scrunched shut at the sudden act from Jungkook. Without thinking about it, you let your lips relax after a few seconds, returning the kiss in a similarly shy fashion. This was met by an almost inaudible moan from Jungkook along with a harsher pressing of lips.

Suddenly, the smacking of lips filled the room. Your bodies readjusted on the floor for better access to each other and, before you knew it, you were dragged onto his lap with your hands wrapped around his shoulders and his on your waist.

Everything in you went into the kiss, making you completely lose any reason within you as you shamelessly made out with your best friend.

Jungkook didn't seem to mind the sudden shift between the two of you. On the contrary, his moans and sighs of satisfaction gave you the opposite idea. He was thriving for it, attempting to pull you impossibly closer as his tongue explored your mouth.

Once you were finally out of breath, you pulled away, heavy breath interrupted by a few insistent pecks pressed against your lips in an attempt to prolongue the kiss. This made you let out a breathless chuckle, entertaining him for a bit before actually pulling away.

"Mm, no, not yet," he huffed, lips traveling from your cheek to your jaw and eventually landing on your neck, "Let me just ..."

He trailed off after that, hands pressing harshly into your waist to mold you against him so he could get better access to you. His teeth nipped at your skin, sucking at it warmly and then licking coolness into it, ensuring to enjoy you as much as possible. In exchange, you let him do whatever he wanted to you. Your mind was too fuzzy to understand what was going on. The two of you were too lost in each other to think.

Then came even more fuzziness.

Jungkook's hands traveled to your hips, enveloping as much as he could in order to push you up against him. The first time made you both gasp, completely drunk on the barely-there friction. But the first time was followed by the second and the third, continuously increasing in intensity as you humped against each other like animals.

His mouth eventually came to cover yours again, slightly muffling your shared moans of pleasure as your middles met time and time again.

There was a desperation behind your actions. Every single sound you made was met by either a whine or a cry from Jungkook, clearly incredibly affected by you and in turn making you even a bigger mess for him.

"K-kook ..."

"Shhh, just. Fuck, I just- I need this," he sighed before sticking his tongue in your mouth yet again, swallowing every sound that left you.

"N-no, just ... Want more. Please?"

It wasn't like you to beg, but your body simply couldn't ignore the hardness under you. Everything about him in that moment drove you crazy, making you dizzy with desire as the feeling took over you.

Never had you felt like this. Like you'd die if he stopped touching you. Like if you didn't let him take you however he wanted, you'd seize to function.

You'd never done this before, and Jungkook knew this. He wasn't too far experienced, but you knew he had the upper hand here. Except you didn't care. You loved Jungkook and the thought of him being the one you crossed this threshold with made the most sense to you. Your mind and body were screaming at you to let him take you, and you were ready to follow through.

Your love for Jungkook had never felt like this before. It had never manifested in a romantic nor physical way, but these were thoughts you'd put aside for now. This was what you wanted. You were sure.

Your words made him slowly come to a halt, fingers digging into your hips as his breath became even heavier than before.

"You ... Are you sure? I- fuck, I want to, but-"

A kiss interrupted his words. And then another. And then maybe five more. By the time he managed to pull away again, your tongue had made the tour of his mouth a few times over.

"Okay, fuck. Yeah, I- Okay, just ..."

Removing your pants whilst staying on top of him had been a clumsy and shared effort, but the result let you even more empty-headed than before. His hardness was bare and pressing up against the soaked space between your legs.

You hadn't bothered to remove your tops, far too lost in desire to feel a need for it. Consideration for a condom was also put in the back burner (aside from his quick warning of his lack of one followed by your dismissal of it), minds too focused on the urgency to feel each other to truly care about the risks. You were on mandatory birth control and Jungkook wasn't one to sleep around, so the issue was nonexistent to you.

"Oh, fuck. You're so wet," he breathed out when he let his fingers feel around for your readiness.

"Kook, just- just do it. I'm ready, I promise."

He nodded silently, beginning to adjust you so he could lower you onto him. But even knowing what was to come, nothing prepared you for that stretch.

And clearly, he hadn't been prepared for how you'd feel either. Or at least that's the impression his immediate cry of pleasure gave you.

"Oh ... oh, fuck. You feel s-so good, shit," he sighed out, face burying in your neck in defeat.

"K-kookie ..."

"Move, baby. Just like this ... Yeah, fuck, like that ..."

His hands guided you in a mixture of grinding and bouncing, all leading you to a similar fate to his own.

Your face fell against his own neck, crying at the immense pleasure he was giving you. The feeling was like no other. The pressing of dampened skin and the in-measurable level of closeness you felt to Jungkook would've been enough to make you lose your mind, but the added weight of his cock inside you as your clit ground against his pelvis had you rendered boneless above him.

"Mmm, pretty girl ... Such a perfect girl, shit. So fucking good ... what a dream you are," he bit into your shoulder after that, with a muffled whine vibrating into your skin.

Sadly, you couldn't reciprocate such words to him. Not when your mind was mush and unable to process anything other than Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook and the mind-blowing pleasure he was giving you.

"Need you to cum for me, baby. Need ... Need my pretty girl to cum, okay? Let me just ... Y-yeah, shit, that's it. Feel good, huh? So fucking perfect ..."

His hand expertly rubbed at your clit as he leaned further back onto the floor, feet now laid flat so he could begin fucking into you at an increased velocity your brain just couldn't comprehend.

Your cries of his name were embarrassing, but luckily they were mostly drowned out by his kisses, swallowed by his tongue while he occasionally mumbled words of encouragement into your mouth as he coaxed your orgasm out of you.

The perfect harmony of your highs following one another was orgasmic in itself. You had never bothered yourself too much about the lack of sex in your busy life before this, but now you were extra content Jungkook had been your first. There was no way it could've possibly felt like this with anyone but him.

There was some comfortable silence after it all. His warm embrace remained and soft kisses continued to be pressed against your skin. You weren't sure if he continued to offer you loving words for long. Your body didn't withstand too much time conscious after such drain of your energy.

The last thing you remembered before losing consciousness were your own attempts at kissing at the skin of his neck before letting yourself fall asleep against him. You'd reached a level of peace and comfort you never had before, feeling safer than ever as his arms wrapped even tighter against you and his body fell unconscious in a similar manner.

The following morning was immediately filled with intense grogginess. It seemed like your body had kept last night's dizziness but without much memory of how you'd gotten to this point of exhaustion.

You were practically a shell of yourself as you attempted to stretch your limbs without moving from the comfort of the blanket you were currently cocooned in. That's when you suddenly sat up in alarm.

When had you gone to bed? When had you gone to this bed? Because it sure as hell wasn't your own.

And that's when the memories came flooding back.

The first thing you noticed was the absence of the owner of the room, also known as the other participant of last night's events. He was nowhere in sight while you found yourself laid on his bed, far more clothed and clean than you'd been last night. This wasn't your doing, but it was easy to assume that your best friend would be the type of guy to ensure you were cleaned up and safe in bed before such a rendezvous.

The thought made you melt for about five seconds. Up until you remembered you'd now have to deal with the aftermath of it all.

Not only having to face him again, but also figuring out the feelings currently bubbling inside of you — and worst of all, figuring out if those feelings were reciprocated.

But you had to get up at some point. Get up and make your way to the communal area of the dorms where you were sure you'd find the boy you so badly wanted to avoid right now.

Getting up, you realized you were dressed in Jungkook's pajama pants but still donning the sweatshirt you'd had on before. He had preserved your dignity despite having seen you almost naked last night (and fucking you, of course). That was almost the sweetest thing all things considered.

After a quick trip to the adjoined restroom, you tiptoed your way out, scared of bumping into him while also hoping you did.

Peeking out of the doorway, you looked both ways to check for any human presence, finding none before making your way out of the door and into the following room.

"You really don't need to avoid me, you know. I'm not going to jump you or anything."

The sudden voice made you jump, hand coming straight to your heart and gripping at your sweatshirt in shock. You almost fell back, but were caught by a firm body behind you, vibrating in a chuckle at your sudden reaction.

"Dude, announce your presence next time," you huffed, disconnecting yourself from him and facing him.

"Like you did?", he eyed you cockily.

Okay, fair.

"Did you dress me and take me to bed last night?"

This flustered him, causing him to finally break that confident eye contact he'd been torturing you with and looking above you in favor of avoiding your eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I didn't wanna just leave you on the living room floor. Sorry, I-"

"No. Thank you. That was, uh, nice of you."

"Y-yeah, for sure."

A lack of ability to even look into each other's eyes took over the two of you. For two usually confident people, the two of you were acting like two tweens on their first date, which, for be fair, was pretty close to reality.

"I, uh, maybe we could talk about the-"

"Kook! Y/N! Sejin's waiting outside. We have a last minute meeting before tomorrow. You guys have ten minutes or we leave without you!"

The interruption from Namjoon was partially welcomed by you. You didn't really want to face whatever was going on with Jungkook. The loss of your last free day was slightly annoying, but if you could ignore this conversation for a little while longer, you'd take it. Feelings for your best friend were not a can of worms you wanted to open up right now, but specially at such a crucial time in your promotions. Much less did you want to relive the admittedly amazing sex you'd had, it'd just be a distraction.

You turned to Jungkook with a grimace in your face, "Well, guess I should go get ready," you said as you began turning away to go get dressed, only for your hand to be restrained with a soft touch only Jungkook could manage.

"Hey ... But we'll talk later, right? When we land in America?"

His eyes were hopeful, which only made you feel like even more of a terrible person. It wasn't like you actually wanted to avoid him, but you needed to figure out how to progress after such a sudden development in your ... friendship.

You nodded lightheartedly before finally leaving. Your mind was still going a mile a minute, so you didn't really process the face of disappointment Jungkook offered you in return, simply leaving equally as numb.

Two days had passed.

Somehow, for the first time in the many years you'd known Jungkook, you hadn't spoken to him in two days.

It didn't matter what was going on in your lives, whether it be personal or career wise, you'd never gone further than a few hours without speaking. Sleeping with your best friend could have that effect on a relationship, you guessed.

You took all blame for this. It wasn't as if Jungkook hadn't tried. The poor boy had attempted to get you alone, maybe hash things out a bit, but you kept avoiding him. Even when he tried to interact with you as you did before, you'd create distance between you, suddenly seeking out another one of your members in favor of not having to face Jungkook.

If you were hurt by Jungkook's face of disappointment every time you ran away from him, you couldn't imagine how he felt. It had gotten to a point where Jimin and Taehyung would give you weird looks, wondering why Jungkook's emotional-support-bestie wasn't attached to his hip as per usual.

And it had only been two days. It was a testament to how close you were. How out of character it was for the two of you to not be orbiting one another at all times.

So, your first day in the United States had quickly come and gone with no trace of any resolution between you and Jungkook.

It wasn't your first time in the country, but the thought of promoting overseas for the first time still made your fight or flight response malfunction. You felt your body freeze at knowing that you were about to grow bigger than you ever had before. Your sudden popularity after DNA's release had been unexpected, and it would only amplify after all the talk shows and events your company had booked for this comeback.

Jungkook's presence was usually all you needed to calm yourself down. You knew this. It had been infallible in the past five years since your debut. But it was the last thing you could have at the moment. And you blamed yourself.

The memories of your night together invaded you constantly. Jungkook was all you could think about. The way he looked at you before kissing you, as if you were the entire world and more. The softness of his hands on your skin, running through it in such a way that left traces of his touch. The sounds he made when you shared yourself with him at the basest of levels.

These thoughts stole all your focus time and time again. It happened on the plane, while speaking with unsuspecting staff, during dance practice, whilst you recorded content for armys. And it specially happened when Jungkook was nearby. Simply hearing his voice (even when it wasn't directed at you) was enough to bring you back. Even standing next to him during choreo had your skin burning up.

But it wasn't just your body begging for a repeat of that night. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts of him. Jungkook was all you wanted and needed, in all ways imaginable.

It was ridiculous, really. How had you not realized this earlier? Why did it take that night for your feelings to come to surface? Why the hell did you even sleep with him in the first place?

Could you take it back, you would never dare. The repercussions of it had you dealing with various mental breakdowns per day, but the moment you shared was not something you could ever convince yourself to give away.

You were currently lacking your main support system, your best friend, but your stupid mind was still somewhat at ease with it. You held hope that things would work themselves out somehow, even if you were terrified to open that can of worms.

Jungkook wasn't one to sleep around, which made the other night's events even more strange. His idea of love had always been quite clear — and extremely romantic, if you said so yourself. He was the clearest example of a hopeless romantic. When he loved, he put every ounce of himself into it, and then some.

But you knew that this was a side of him you would never get to see, and that thought broke you. That was why you cowardly refused to even meet his gaze.

If you were going to get your heart broken, you needed time to internalize what had happened. You needed to process it and get over it, turning it into one of the many mundane memories between you and Jungkook.

Sure, Jungkook was sad at your dismissals, but he'd be fine in the long run. This had been a heartbroken thirst for him, nothing more. Thoughts of his hopeless crush, mixed by the liquor, were the only reason why he ever looked at you with those eyes you wished to forget, but knew you never would.

It hadn't meant anything to him. All he wanted to do was get you alone so he could apologize and clear the air, but you knew that as gentle as Jungkook could be, nothing he could say would prevent your heart from plummeting.

So, maybe you were being selfish, but you knew your friendship would survive this. Your heart was who wouldn't.

~

"You're not getting it. Look, it's like this," Hobi repeated for the nth time — you'd lost count.

After giving you a slow demonstration of the moves in question, he turned back to you with a worried look on his face.

"What's wrong, baby? You're not usually this unfocused," he pouted at you, taking in the exhaustion in your face.

It was now day four in Los Angeles.

You had about five performances at various late night shows, including a debut of Fake Love at the BBMA's stage later this week. There were only a few days allotted for rehearsals before the endless performances and promotion schedules began. The stakes were incredibly high, and you were fucking everything up.

"It's nothing, Hobi. Don't worry about it."

You continued to look down, not wanting to look into his eyes because you knew it'd just break you down enough to seek advice for him. You were never one to brush up your members when they'd check on you. This, however, was an extremely mentally draining situation that you had to deal with on your own.

"What about him?"

Your face finally turned to his, finding him looking past you. You didn't need to turn around to know who he was talking about, but you still did. Upon turning, you found a very forlorn Jungkook on the opposite side of the room, his usual energy lacking as he attempted to coordinate with Jimin's moves.

If there was ever a rare sight, it was that of Jungkook not giving it his all. Whether it be practice or an award show, Jungkook is as always the epitome of an idol. Performing was his heart and soul, which made your current sight even more worrisome.

Your avoidance of him was getting to him, but you just couldn't make yourself face him. By now, he'd stopped even trying to get you alone. It was a lost cause to him, it seemed. Part of you felt deflated by his current lack of trying, but you understood. This was kind of what you'd asked for.

Your main hope was to go through with promotions, let time rid you both of the memories of that night, and finally reconnect, immaturely ignoring what had happened and never even discussing it. It'd go on unresolved, but the cycle of rejection would never complete. This way you'd be hurt, but by omission rather than by the knowledge that you'd been nothing more than an emotional rebound to Jungkook.

He was in love with someone else, after all. You wished to forget about that part of your memories from that night.

"He's fine. We're sorta fighting. It's nothing big, don't worry about it, Hope," you offered him a smile, though it didn't meet your eyes.

His tight smile matched yours, but his eyes showed compassion, understanding you probably didn't want to talk about it. But in usual Hobi fashion, he still continued instigating.

"He's making me sad," he pouted teasingly, "Put him out of his misery."

You sighed, "Fine, I'll talk to him tonight, okay? Just- Show me the move again. No more Jungkook."

You didn't mean it, but you didn't want your brothers worrying over an issue as mortifying as this. That, and you also didn't want them to know you'd fucked up and fallen in love with your best friend.

"I'll hold you to that," he pat your back before facing the mirror again.

With one last look at Jungkook, you surprised yourself when you found him staring back at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked genuinely sad. It made you wonder if maybe it was you who would end up breaking his heart.

Tomorrow was your first interview overseas. It was supposed to be a big deal, an interview and a short performance on Ellen. You'd be the first Kpop group attending.

Despite the pressure of it all, you remained somewhat unworried about tomorrow's schedules. In an eight-member group, you didn't need to worry about the spotlight falling directly onto you. Plus, you had bigger things to worry about.

But you still decided to push it all aside. It was easier to put yourself in an autopilot mode and ignore everything surrounding you. Ignore the thumping of your heart at the thought of opening up to an entirely nee audience. And, of course, ignore the lack of your best friend by your side.

You'd have to pretend in front of the cameras. You'd dance next to Jungkook, acting as if you weren't actively ignoring his existence. You'd have to provide the usual fan-service, though it had never been fake between you. For the first time ever, you'd find yourself acting whilst interacting with your favorite person. The thought was eerie.

With these thoughts in mind, you went to bed, happy your group could afford separate rooms this time around. Sharing with Jungkook would've been your breaking point.

But it seemed the world had other thoughts in mind. A sudden knock at your hotel room kept you from even making it to your bed.

Still clad in your pajamas, you huffed at the interruption. It was only 10:33 at night, but tomorrow would be a busy day. An interruption from Jin or Taehyung to go over to their rooms for a drink wouldn't really help with your current state of mind.

The belief that it'd be an unsuspecting member on the other side of the door prevented you from checking the peephole. You wish you had, seeing as the other side of the door revealed the last person you expected to see.

Jungkook.

You should've known he'd come looking for you sooner or later. But seeing as he'd given up on trying to get you to talk, you assumed he wouldn't.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the door frame. It was likely in a subtle attempt to prevent you from closing the door on him rather than to feign casualness.

"Kook-"

"I'm coming in, okay? Don't try closing the door on my face."

With that, he walked in, giving you no option but to close the door behind him and following him into the living room area of your hotel room.

It was strange to see him like this. So serious and expressionless. The sight of his bunny smile was nowhere to be seen, which was an anomaly in your relationship. The quietness in his person unnerved you. You felt like the same way you did during trainee evaluations, like you were about to get scolded. It was strange for Jungkook to inspire this anxiety in you.

Then he turned around, facing you but not holding eye contact with you for long. His face did not look hurt in the same way it had when you'd locked eyes earlier in the day. He appeared more agitated this time around.

"Jungkook-"

Once more he interrupted you.

But not by talking, no. This time he invaded your personal space, taking slow steps towards you, taking advantage of having taken you by surprise with his unannounced presence. That, and a wall trapping you as you took steps back.

"I know you don't want to talk about it. I ... I can't really understand why, but I'll respect it," he sounded tired as he said it. He took a breath before continuing, "But I can't stop thinking about it."

Up until this point, you'd avoided his gaze, opting instead to keep your eyes on his neck, anywhere else but his eyes. Even as he'd cornered you against the wall, — with one arm extended on the wall to keep himself leaning over you and another shyly toying at the length of your oversized shirt — you attempted to ignore what was happening, despite your body naturally responding to him.

"And I don't think you can either. That's why you've been avoiding me, right?", his hand went to trace your jaw softly, subtly tilting your head towards his, "That's why, for the first time in five years, you've been giving me the silent treatment."

"It's not that ...", you tried.

"But it is, isn't it? If it'd been a once and over, you wouldn't care. You'd just move on," his face lowered, breath now landing on your neck, "But you can't."

"You can't ignore this," his hot breath against your ear made you shiver, "You want it too, don't you? Can't stop thinking about it?" his hands snuck under your shirt, familiar fingertips running through the skin, "Can't function? Me too ... Can't fucking think about anything but you."

"Jungkook ..."

"Please," he pleaded

His lips began pressing at the curve of your neck, up and down its length, occasionally suctioning lightly enough as to not leave a lasting mark. The wetness of his tongue soothing behind its track gave you goosebumps.

"I know ... I know we haven't talked about it, but ... I just need you. Please say yes. I'll- It doesn't have to mean anything."

If only he knew those were the last words you wanted to hear.

And as much as you wanted to put a stop to this, to scream at him and tell him how you felt, damning any consequences for your friendship, you stood frozen. Or well, you stood limp, willing to let him take you as he'd done less than a week ago.

You nodded, sighing when he kissed that spot on your neck he'd so quickly found last time. That was when your hands began reciprocating, holding him against you to ensure he'd never go away. It was a great contrast to a mere five minutes ago, but your body couldn't help itself.

His hands mirrored yours, wrapping themselves around you and holding onto every curve they could find. There was a certain desperation to his touch, only amplifying by the second. Your bodies molded together as he continued to kiss and suckle at your neck, making his way to your lips.

This kiss didn't need any buildup. It was immediately heated, carrying the frustration that'd been weighing over the two of you for the past few days. Jungkook groaned while you mewled into his lips, hand reaching the back of your knee to lift your leg and hold it against his waist. You wrapped it around the dip of his waist, needing him as close as humanly possible.

A desperate sigh was released into your lips at the first grind of his hips against yours. It was slow and calculated, as if feeding a sick hunger he'd built for you. None of it felt meaningless, even if you knew that deep down it was. At least to him.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you ..."

Those were the first words mumbled against your lips.

"Want you again. Please? Just like this ... It'll be so good, I promise," he continued to plead.

It was laughable how wrong he had the situation. You knew it'd be good. God, you knew it'd leave you reeling for twice as long as the last time. It'd have you pining and suffering through every second that he wasn't as yours as he was during these carnal moments. But still, you whined some pathetic excuse for affirmation and let him prepare you.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he moved pulled your pajama shorts down, once again leaving you in just your shirt as he took himself out.

Sex whilst almost fully clothed. Again. Did you really need more indication that Jungkook did this out of sheer need?

Despite the constant alarms going off in your head in attempts to protect yourself from impending heartbreak, you never once stopped him. Because you wanted this. If this was all you could have while he found his one perfect true love, you'd be willing to be a stand-in for him.

When he entered you, you finally felt at ease. It was embarrassing how easy it'd been, how ready you'd been to receive him despite no prior preparation.

"F-fuck. You feel so good ..."

You sighed at that. Yes, you loved making him feel good.

"'m gonna move now, okay, gorgeous?"

Gorgeous ...

You mewled, fingers digging into his arms and nodding desperately.

He wasn't rough in a way you'd expect a sudden booty call to be. You knew you weren't exactly a booty call, but that's the closest definition you could find for your relationship at the moment. Instead, he fucked you in a similar fashion to last time — desperate, needy, but with a sense of control that told you every movement was calculated.

To any outside perspective, you must've looked like the epitome of passion. Molded against each other, both pairs of hips insisting on constant connection through needy humps. The available slivers of skin showing were shiny with perspiration and affected by the friction of your touches. There was a desperate need behind every touch, every word.

"Hmph, fuck, shit. God, you're so perfect. Needed you so bad ..."

"Didn't think I could ever feel this good, fuck."

"So fucking perfect for me, oh, god."

"T-that's it ... Oh, so tight for me, such a good girl for me."

His words made you lose your mind. Unlike him, no words could leave your mouth. They were all incoherent babbles as he murmured directly into your ear. All your senses were lowered to zero. You were completely malleable to his words, to his touches.

"'m gonna cum, baby, need ... need you to cum with me, yeah?"

A hand went to your clit. It was an awkward angle, standing up, but Jungkook made it work. He made it work far too well, immediately getting your eyes rolling back.

"F-fuck, Kook, I-"

"I know, shit. With me, okay? Just- Y-yeah, fuck .."

You tightened around him as he came, causing him to fall back against you with endless groans of pleasure. That's when your orgasm finally came to you, joining him in the bliss. It was all very messy, being filled up by him and leaking down to the shorts you hadn't fully discarded. Your pajamas were completely crumpled by now, and your neck likely red and purple with splotches from his teeth. But the orgasmic bliss made up for it all.

Jungkook remained inside you, taking in the silence for a few moments. Your heavy breaths synchronized, their harmony ending abruptly when Jungkook pulled himself out of you with a groan.

He winced at the mess he'd made of you, quickly fixing himself up before heading over to the restroom of your hotel room to gather some stuff to clean you up with. During his absence, you stood there feeling like an idiot. Your heart plummeted once again at the remembrance that things would go back to how they were before, except maybe worse.

When he returned, he did so with a shy version of his usual bunny smile. It was hard not to return it. Had you been feeling anything less than like an absolute idiot, maybe you would've. But you just stood there as he cleaned you up, avoiding eye contact as you'd done these past few days.

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry I came so unexpectedly. I- I love you, you know that, right?", he finally said after some hesitation.

That made it worse somehow.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but ... I'm here, okay? I'll be ready to talk about it whenever you are. I just, uhm, I need to know we're okay. I'll give you as much space as you need, just, please tell me we're still friends."

There was sad desperation in his voice. God, every word he spoke just made everything hurt even more.

You couldn't speak. You'd found your ability to speak leaving you any time it concerned this topic. So, instead you took a step and closed all distance, wrapping your arms around him in a hug you'd been needing for far too long. Immediately, he returned it.

"We're friends, Kook. Always."

True, even if it destroyed you.

You felt him smile against your hair, pressing a soft kiss to it.

The events of your promotions went as planned. Four days later and you were now practically done.

The only silver lining of this whole situation was that it had occupied your mind so much that you'd forgotten any anxieties you felt over your American promotions. You'd performed perfectly, as had all your members. Somehow, you'd managed to become an empty shell of yourself, just doing as expected while on camera and deflating once you were alone, still haunted by memories of Jungkook.

You hadn't spoken since that night (shocker). This time it had been more of a mutual agreement. It hadn't been a formal thing, but you'd both kept your distance. If the guys noticed, they didn't interfere, for which you were grateful.

Tomorrow was your last night in America. You'd just made it back home from the BBMA's, having been the first Kpop group to attend and scoring a record-breaking amount of views for the show. That, and a reward. The carpet had been fun, just like every other moment in which you'd been able to mingle with artists you'd watched since your youth.

It was nice to pretend nothing was wrong between you and Jungkook whilst there. Any other public appearances before tonight's had been too brief for the two of you to even interact, which had made it easy to ignore what was happening. But tonight you'd spent the entire night together while hundreds of cameras recorded your every move. Almost like performing off-stage.

Somehow, you'd both understood what to do. It was as if nothing had happened. You laughed, you talked, you interacted the way you would've before any of this. The cameras caught onto your genuine friendship, displaying it for all those present to see.

So, when you made it back to your hotel room, it wasn't surprising when you found that your names were trending on Twitter.

It might've been idiotic of you to do so, but you decided to scroll through your names. They'd been trending together. Y/N and Jungkook. Not your names by themselves, but together.

Non-fans questioned the chemistry between you, the longing looks, as they called them. Short screen-recordings of your interactions on stage, easily translating onto the red carpet. The trends were filled with the two of you, with far too many new people wondering if there was something going on behind the scenes.

Your fans confirmed and denied it. Some were sure the two of you had more going than meets the eye. While others believed maybe something would happen someday, but they respected your current label of friends.

Friends. That felt miserably laughable at this moment.

The truth was that you didn't know your current label. Were you even friends anymore? Maybe friends with benefits? Or maybe, after all of this, just bandmates.

When you first made it back to the hotel, you'd all celebrated your win on V-Live with your fans as you usually did. The live itself was short-lived, usually expanding for hours after turning off the camera. However, you'd opted to call it an early night this time around. The immediate contrast between performing for the cameras and going back to your reality was not something you wanted to deal with at that moment.

Despite some worried words from the boys, you reassured them you were fine, encouraging them to keep drinking amongst themselves. You ignored Jungkook's immediate reflex to try and follow you. He must've remembered your current situation, sitting himself back down and looking solemnly at his drink, clearly avoiding eye contact.

Kissing a few of the members goodnight, you left, planning to spend a lonely night in your room, which was what you were currently doing. Sleep wouldn't find you, so you just moped at your phone screen, wishing that your fans' words would manifest into reality. That you truly did have some sort of relationship with Jungkook you had to hide from the cameras.

After a few hours of self-pity, the most predictable thing happened. Jungkook came knocking on your door.

He'd taken a surprisingly longer time than you'd anticipated.

Opening the door, you found a mixture of frustration and confusion on his face.

"It's four in the morning, Jungkook."

But he didn't care for your comment, walking in decidedly, just like he'd done last time.

He turned to you, giving you no time to complain about his behavior.

"We need to talk. I know I said I'd respect you if you needed distance, but I just can't do this anymore."

"Wow, it took you a grand total of four days to break," you couldn't help the sarcasm.

"Believe it or not, but going four days without talking to my best friend fucking sucks," he scoffed, "And it wasn't only four days. You haven't spoken to me in over a week. The other night doesn't count, we-"

"We what, Jungkook? We fucked?"

Your tone was biting. It was frustration you'd never expressed towards your best friend. His reaction mirrored that sentiment, backing down slightly at your irritation.

"It's not- It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it? God, you know what? I can't even blame you. I should've just told you to fuck off when you ambushed me with sex. Again."

What you were saying was so unfair. You were deflecting despite knowing the blame was shared. You continued to be a horrible friend to him.

"I thought that was what you wanted. You were the one ignoring me. I tried! You kept pushing me away. You never gave me a chance after that first night," his voice never raised, but there was agitation behind it.

"Because I never intended for any of it to happen! You're the one who kissed me in the first place! You instigated it. Both times."

Hurt reflected on his eyes at that first sentence. He recovered quickly, instead furrowing his eyebrows in frustration, but you'd caught onto it. Your stomach churned at it. This was not what you wanted to happen at all.

"You- did you even miss me at all? Was it that easy for you to just push me away with no plans of ever talking to me about it? About how you felt? — If you even felt anything. I know this was all just some stupid inconvenience to you, but- God, did you even think about my feelings?"

The truth was that you didn't. You put your own emotions above his own, immaturely avoiding the subject in order to preserve your own feelings. Since that first night, you knew that you'd be the one getting hurt the most, so you did everything in your power to avoid any resolution that would leave you as heartbroken as you felt now.

You remained silent, eyes watering and unknowing of what to say. He was in a similar state, face giving you every telltale sign that he was doing his best to hold back tears.

But he also looked angry. Something you'd never seen before.

"What, you're not going to say anything?," he scoffed, "I know I fucked up, I ..." he hesitated, face morphing into a softer version of itself before reverting back to anger, continuing to speak decisively, "I never should've slept with you, but I tried to make things right and, and you just didn't care at all. You were so-"

You stopped listening then.

That was it.

He had finally broken the dam.

Unlike Jungkook, you'd never been much of a crier. It was a nice contrast you had between the two of you. He was the more sentimental one, leaving you to a more stoic role. You could count on one hand the amount of times in which Jungkook had had to dry your tears rather than the reverse.

So you understood why seeing you suddenly break down in tears immediately stopped him halfway through his angry rambling. He swallowed his words, letting a surprised whimper escape his lips.

Within mere seconds, you were engulfed in his arms, one strong arm holding you against him and the other caressing at your hair in a soothing manner.

Your head was spinning and you couldn't stop yourself from gasping out desperate breaths into Jungkook's chest. You'd be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Jungkook made you feel safe. Even under these circumstances, you were glad he was here.

"Baby, I- I'm sorry, fuck. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm so sorry, I- I love you, please don't be sad. I love you so much. All I want is to make you happy," he rambled on and on. You weren't able to catch everything due to your crying.

His words just made it worse. Platonic love was all you'd ever needed from him, but your unjust heart wanted more than that right now.

"Jungkook, stop. Don't say that. Not right now."

You separated yourself enough to look up at him, finding his eyes equally bloodshot and immense worry in his features.

Before he could argue with you, you shut him up again, taking a breath to ensure you could speak without suddenly sobbing again.

This was the moment of truth. You'd already ruined everything, might as well go all the way.

You gulped, taking a step back and forcing yourself out of his arms before beginning your lame excuse for a speech. You hadn't planned for a confession tonight, but here you were.

"I'm sorry. You're ... you were right. We shouldn't have slept together."

Repeating the words that had inspired your crying gave you a bitter taste in your mouth.

"But I shouldn't have treated you the way that I did. I was afraid you'd reject me after, uhm, after I-" you held back tears, knowing there was no going back from this, "after I realized I was in love with you. That that night was more than some stupid tipsy mistake. You were sad and ... and heartbroken over your love life, uhm, over that girl you like," your voice cracked at the memory, "and I should've stopped you before things went too far. I always had the power to stop you, but I just ... I didn't want to. From the first time you kissed me, I wanted more. I thought that if I avoided you, we could pretend it never happened and that I'd never have to tell you. I thought that way you'd never reject get the chance to reject me," you sighed sadly, "It was wrong. I'm sorry, Jungkook."

You'd looked down at your feet the whole time, refusing to meet his eyes. Your body was cowered into itself. The usual confidence you carried with you was nowhere to be seen. Your person was as bare as it'd never been before, laying out the most vulnerable feelings you'd ever beheld. And the utter silence emanating from Jungkook did not help matters at all.

Finally braving a look, you lifted your head to face him again, not caring for the tears running down your face nor the snot covering your nose.

You found him with his head in his hands, unmoving. The sight unnerved you.

Despite your own heart breaking at your unrequited love, Jungkook's heart took priority. You'd already made the mistake of putting yourself first once, but not again.

You closed the distance again, doing for him what he'd done for you before and attempting to embrace him in a hug. You'd offer him any comfort possible, knowing you'd been the one causing his suffering.

As you went to hold his large frame in your arms, you were stopped, suddenly finding two large hands softly holding onto your cheeks and bringing you towards his face. Before you could even gasp, your lips were occupied by a desperate kiss.

Frozen in place, you let him kiss you, unknowing of how to get your body to respond. And, god, did he kiss you. You'd never felt such emotion behind a kiss, not even that first night when Jungkook had practically begged for you to let him continue.

Against your better judgment, you finally began to kiss back, hands going to any piece of him they could get a hold of in order to keep him as close as possible. Your mouth opened, letting him lick into it and trap your tongue with his.

"It's you. I love you. Fuck, I love you," he growled between aggressive kisses, "Want you. Want you, please."

That's when he pulled away. He remained close, noses touching as he breathed you in, lips torturously close as they attempted to not fall into the temptation of another kiss.

"It was you. You're the girl I like- I love. You're who I want my future with. Everything I said about a family? Kids? It was you. I need it all with you," there was nothing but sheer desperation behind his words. His eyes were glued to your lips, and his hands had found their way south and settled on your waist, fingers insisting on pushing you as close to him as humanly possible, "When we- when we slept together. That ... God, that was a fucking dream. I didn't know what to do, I- I knew it didn't mean anything to you, I mean, I assumed. So when you didn't want anything to do with me, I just went back to you again. I thought, uhm, that if I couldn't have you the way I wanted, I could at least have you like that one more time. I'm sorry, I- I never imagined that you'd, you know, like me. Do you? Fuck, sorry, I just need to hear it again. To be sure."

Through the remaining tears, you laughed, nodding as you confirmed your feelings for him.

"Yes, Jungkook. I love you. I lo-"

In usual Jungkook fashion, he interrupted you again, this time squatting a bit before pressing his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifting you. Naturally, you wrapped your legs around his waist, letting him whisk you away further into your hotel room. The tears were soon replaced by whimsical laugher. The two of you were on a high as you landed messily on the bed, immediately going back to kissing and touching as if you'd burn if you didn't.

"Fuck, love you so much. Never gonna stop saying it now," he mumbled between kisses.

His hands were on a frenzy, lifting up your shirt enough to get access to your skin, insisting in throwing it off immediately after. His went in tandem, letting your burning skin make contact for the first time.

The rest of your clothes joined, leaving the two of you fully nude within minutes of landing on the bed. It was full of desperate caresses, occasionally interrupted by traces of admiration against the other's skin.

"Gorgeous. Prettiest girl," he sighed after calming down a bit. His eyes told you he still hadn't gotten his fill of you, but he was a total romantic, he needed to take a moment to appreciate you.

"I've had a crush on you since I saw you, did you know that?" needy fingers went up to your breasts, tracing them softly, "Thought you were the coolest, prettiest girl I'd ever seen. Tae didn't let me live it down for years," he chuckled at the memory.

"Should've told me, you idiot," you managed to let out through his fondling of your body.

"Don't call me that right now, baby. Be nice. I've had a terrible week," he mumbled between kisses against your breasts.

"Mm, I wonder why," you barely managed to laugh amidst your sighs of pleasure.

"You laugh now, but you'll see."

You were about to let him have it, but he distracted you with his lips on yours. Time and time again. His toned skin felt like a dream against yours, rendering you unable to keep your hands off him. It seemed like he felt similarly about you, as his hands kept moving from one curve to another, thumbing at the skin with need.

The ruffling of sheets and a mixture of muffled groaning were the only sounds to be heard in your lonely hotel room. At four in the morning, you found yourself writhing in your bedsheets, body contorting to that of your best friends' as his fingers traveled down to your middle, knuckle pressing into that spot that had your back arching impossibly closer to his chest.

After torturing your clit for a bit, Jungkook finally made his way down your body, kissing at every inch of available skin. He took his time, leaving love bites at what you assumed to be his favorite places, even nuzzling against your skin in a softness slightly out of character considering the context.

"You're so fucking soft, baby. You'll never get rid of me now, you know that, right?", he looked up at you with an incredulous smile, nose scrunching at the smile you have him in return.

"Don't worry, Kookie. I plan on keeping you around."

He chuckled, biting his lip and continuing his path downward, soon finding himself at your thighs. Strong arms opened up your legs to open his way to your middle, fingers tracing their way down to the back of your knees to push them up to get them out of his way. When satisfied with your position, he began kissing at your thighs, mumbling unintelligible words between smooches.

You simply enjoyed the love he gave you. Only a few moments with him and you'd already forgotten any misery you'd put yourself through this past week. Every touch, every look, every word, you lived for every single one. You were barely conscious by then, with your hold on his hair being the only thing to keep you grounded.

It was when his nose first nudged at your cunt that you truly lost yourself.

That thing they said about men with big noses? Well it was true.

And unfortunately, Jungkook took note of the effect he had on you immediately, deciding to use his nose to torture your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness. He was eager with it too, moaning and groaning into your pussy while his hips shamelessly humped at the bed.

"Fuck, baby," he huffed, "Just like that, shit. Use my face, I'm all yours anyway ..."

You hadn't realized that you'd been humping at his face, but you took that as not only permission to continue, but encouragement to not stop. At that point, it truly became a mess. Almost a competition to see whether he'd make you cum with his tongue, or if you'd grind on his face until completion.

And as per usual, Jungkook won. For every cry you let out, his fervor doubled. It was as if he was pained by not giving you pleasure. His cries and whines into your cunt only increased in tone, higher as you approached your end.

"Kook, fuck. I'm almost there, don't stop," your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, "Yes, fuck, just like that ..."

Once more, he took this as a challenge, pulling at all stops to make you cum. His tongue took turns between licking into you and circling your swollen pearl, even sneaking in a hand to toy at you with his fingers. It wasn't long until you finally gave in to your orgasm, body buzzing under his while he refused to give you a break.

Even through the sensitivity, Jungkook didn't let go. He continued sucking and licking at you, chuckling when your attempts to pull him away finally clicked. He mumbled out an apology, sitting up on his knees to find his way back up your body.

"That was-"

But he interrupted you by shoving his tongue in your mouth for the nth time tonight. And you, not being an idiot, responded accordingly.

He hadn't bothered to wipe at his mouth before kissing you, meaning that you were currently licking your own essence out of his tongue. It was a depraved and disgusting kiss. At some point it could barely even be called a kiss, consisting of sucking at each other's tongues, teeth clacking, and bodies morphing at every connection of lips.

With no necessary warning, Jungkook's hips began desperately connecting with yours, hardness eventually finding a home in the space between your legs, close to where you wanted him but not close enough. Surely, you'd chafe tomorrow, but Jungkook's needy whines of pleasure made any repercussions worth it. You'd do anything he wanted to ensure he felt good.

"Baby, I need ... I need to be in you. Can I? You're ready for me, right, beautiful? Hmm?" he was frantic as he spoke, wide eyes staring into your hazy ones.

"Anything you want, Kookie. Need you in me so fucking bad."

He thanked you with a kiss, finally inserting himself in you with a groan, sighing out when he finally sunk into your warmth. Uselessly, he took a few moments to let you adjust, but corrected his mistake when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer in a silent demand for more.

"I'll give it to you, baby. I'll give you everything."

And he did. No further warning was needed when he began to piston into you. Groaning into your ear, his hips lost control against you, causing that harsh slapping sound of skin you'd gotten so used to with him.

"Shit, just like that, Kookie. So- so big."

"Hmm, yeah? But I fit so well in this pretty cunt. Made for me, huh? My pretty cunt."

He babbled incoherencies, unable to stop praising you as he made intense love to you. Gasps left his lips, needy fingers attempting to pull you closer to no avail. When he became too desperate to have you as close as humanly possible, he opted to lift your legs higher, having them wrap on his shoulders rather than his waist.

This new angle had you writhing in incomprehensible pleasure, hands clawing at his back, completely careless of the marks you'd leave behind. It only became worse when he readjusted just slightly, his tip beginning to hit that spot inside you that had you almost passing out.

"R-right there! Oh, right there, please! Don't stop, don't stop, I'm almost there, fuck, please!"

You hadn't realized your words would have him losing himself along with you. You saw his eyes roll and his jaw tighten before he finally let go. His warmth filled you up quickly after that, nudging your orgasm out of you with a harmony of cries of each other's names.

The end marked itself when he let himself drop onto the bed, falling beside you as he simultaneously pulled you into his chest. A soft kiss was left on your hair when you accepted his embrace, cuddling to his side despite the damp sweat covering him. You were probably just as sweaty anyway.

"Well, that was incredibly dramatic," you broke the silence.

He whined your name in return.

"Let me catch my breath before you get all cynical."

"You love my sense of humor."

He laid on his side, turning to face you, hands wrapping tighter around you.

"I love literally everything about you. Did you need me to give you another demonstration? Because give me five minutes and I'll-"

A kiss shut him up.

"God, you're so obsessed with me," he snickered.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't get used to it."

He buried his face in your chest after that, pressing a few kisses there. He couldn't help himself, it seemed.

"Nope, I think I'll get used to it. I might have to move into your skin, this isn't nearly close enough," he joked.

After a very brief silence, his lips made their way up to your own, sighing against you as he kissed you.

"I really missed you."

God, he made it so hard to not melt for him.

"I missed you too. I love you."

"I'm going to need to hear that every ten minutes for the next month to compensate for the past week," he demanded.

You pretended to be annoyed by the task, but actually brimming inwards, wanting to go on live at this very moment and let everyone know you'd bagged Jeon Jungkook.

But you decided to be cool about it.

"Fine, whatever."

His bunny smile told you he accepted your answer, but his subsequent attack on your face with endless, childish kisses said otherwise.

The very few hours of the night that remained were spent like this. After cleaning you up, Jungkook ensured his hands never left your body at any point, something which you had no issue with. Far too many confessions of love were shared, but they all felt just and necessary.

You were content. The nerve wracking week had ended, leaving you with more than you could've ever asked for.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, getting caught (kind of), teasing, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 427 (teaser); 1834 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"We really should've added some clause against inter-group dating when we signed out contracts."

Everyone else in the room sighed in agreement.

Well, everyone but the two of you.

While everyone else was miserable at the sight of you cuddled up in some corner of the practice room, you and Jungkook remained in your own world. Nothing could knock you out of it when you were in this state of mind.

After the mess that happened between the two of you, the constant miscommunication and intolerable pining (Tae's words, not yours), being with Jungkook unapologetically was the most stress-relieving feeling in the world.

The guys didn't actually dislike the sight of you together. You both knew this. It was a mixture of teasing and the natural annoyance inspired by yours and Jungkook's honeymoon phase. It was a small price to pay for the ability to be with your boyfriend/best friend at all times.

"You're just jealous," Jungkook threw back at Taehyung, who just huffed in return.

"They cheated the system. No one will ever suspect they're dating when they've always been this ... touchy," Jimin added, eyes narrowing at you as he walked by.

You simply stuck your tongue out at him, causing Jungkook to giggle by your side.

"Are you guys planning on practicing at any point or are you just going to harass us with your pda all day?"

This time it was Joon who spoke. His tone was that of a fed-up elder brother, which was pretty much what he was at that moment.

To be fair, you had been lazing around today. The two of you were usually quite quick at picking up the choreo, so after a few hours of practicing it one-on-one last night, you'd opted to take it easy today. Clearly, this was not appreciated by your group mates.

"Can we leave, then?", Jungkook perked up.

"Please!," you weren't sure which of the six guys had said it, but you did know it had been more than one.

Gaping at them, you were about to rip them a new one. Why were they so allergic to the two of you being together? They'd been the ones rooting for you from the sidelines! They'd-

"Hell yeah."

Jungkook interrupted your thoughts, using the strength he usually didn't realize he had to help you get up, dragging you towards the exit far too eagerly. Even when you attempted to turn back, eyeing the 95 liners who were currently laughing at you, Jungkook stayed disinterested, seemingly wanting nothing other than some privacy with you.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[alygator77]

.˚✶˚. motherhood and matrimony ・❥・ wrapped in love .˚✶˚.

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ series summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ chapter summary. christmas morning at the gojo estate has always been a display of elegant grandeur—but this year, the true magic is found in the quiet, heartfelt moments shared with you. for satoru, it’s a holiday that finally feels like home.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. pure tooth rotting fluff. satoru being the best step dad. lots of domesticity. it does get a bit suggestive at times.

ꨄ words: 12.6k

ꨄ a/n. this is a part of my series motherhood and matrimony, however it can also be read as a fluffy holiday oneshot (you'll probably appreciate some of the references more if you've read the series though!) this entire ch is written from satoru's perspective! also, for those that have read the series, i would definitely read this after ch 7 ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist ꨄ series masterlist ꨄ

side ch // wrapped in love

Christmas had always been a spectacle at the Gojo estate. Extravagant decorations that seemed to glisten with the weight of their price tags, a towering tree so grand it nearly grazed the vaulted ceilings, and a meticulously curated guest list for the Gojo’s annual holiday gala.

Business, wrapped in tinsel—topped with a bow.

Yes, for Satoru Gojo, Christmas always felt cold. Not the kind of cold that nipped at your nose or made you long for a crackling fireplace—it was the emptiness of grandeur.

Growing up in the Gojo estate, Christmas wasn’t a celebration; it was a stage. Takemi Gojo orchestrated the performance with precision, weaving an illusion of family warmth while the frigid reality of their relationship sat heavy within the corners of the mansion.

Twinkling lights adorned every surface, crystal ornaments shimmered under the tree’s glow, and tables overflowed with feasts meant to impress, not to savor.

His father had called it tradition. Satoru had called it lonely.

And from a young age, Satoru had learned that gifts were currency, not sentiment—the meaning of the season buried beneath layers of duty and pretense.

But this year… something was different.

Satoru lounges on the couch, long legs sprawled out as he watches you and Haru at the tree. You crouch low, holding an ornament in your hand, gently guiding Haru as she reaches up to find the perfect spot.

Her giggles fill the room like the sound of bells, bright and contagious, and she claps her tiny hands when the ornament finally stays.

Turning to her, your smile and the warmth in your expression is enough to melt something in Satoru’s chest.

It’s a feeling he can’t quite name—foreign, yet achingly familiar. Like standing outside during the first snowfall—the cold biting at your cheeks, but the beauty of it stealing your breath.

For the first time, Christmas doesn’t feel like an obligation. It feels like… home.

But it isn’t the decorations, nor the estate’s grandeur—it’s you. It’s Haru. It’s the way you’ve taken this cold, hollow place and filled it with laughter, warmth, and life. It’s the way you’ve turned this house into a home—a home he doesn’t want to leave.

“What do you think, Satoru?”

He blinks, glancing up at you—your voice pulling him out of his reverie. You were holding up two ornaments, one red and one blue, with a quirked brow and a soft smile.

Haru, meanwhile, was standing on her tippy toes, trying to reach the highest branch she could manage.

“Oh, uh… hmm?”

You roll your eyes with mock exasperation, shaking the ornaments for emphasis.

“Red or blue? We can’t have both; it’ll clash. Focus, Gojo.”

His lips twitch into a lazy grin as he leans back, folding his arms behind his head.

“Oh, definitely blue,” he says with a teasing lilt. “It matches my vibe better. Don’tcha think?”

You snort, rolling your eyes with a grin—muttering something about his ego—and as you turn back to Haru, Satoru takes the opportunity to watch you again.

The sight of you—your hair falling loose over your shoulders, the way your smile makes even your oversized sweater seem elegant—It isn’t just the room you light up. It’s him.

‘Gifts are just another transaction, Satoru. A display of wealth and power.’

His father’s voice lingers in his mind, sharp and cold as ever. But you—you’ve shown him a different kind of wealth. One that can’t be bought, or wrapped in shiny paper.

And for the first time, he feels it. Not the chill of the season, but… the warmth of belonging.

But with that warmth comes something else—something he’s not used to.

Panic.

Christmas is just days away, and for the life of him, he has no idea what to give you.

He’s Satoru Gojo. He could buy you anything. Diamonds. Designer clothes. Hell, an entire island, if he felt like it. Money has never been an obstacle—it’s always been a solution.

But when it comes to you, every option feels… wrong.

You—who sighs in exasperation at the estate’s staff, grumbling about how you’re perfectly capable of pouring your own glass of water, thank you very much.

You—who pokes at the extravagant feasts from world-class chefs, saying they could feed an entire village, yet they still couldn’t make your favorite comfort food the way you liked it.

You—who wrinkles your nose at his pretentious lifestyle, rolling your eyes every time he casually mentions the price of something without even realizing.

A necklace dripping in diamonds? You’d probably say it was heavy to wear. A vacation to a private island? You’d tell him you’d rather spend the time with Haru in the backyard, making snow angels.

A car? A house? Exquisite art? Fuck, a horse?

None of it feels enough.

He groans quietly, running a hand through his hair, cursing himself under his breath.

When did this happen? When did he get so comfortable letting his guard down around you, so at ease that now, sitting in his own home, he feels utterly vulnerable? Utterly lost?

And worse, he knows you can probably sense it.

“Satoru.”

Your voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, drawing his attention back to you.

Standing a few feet away, the soft glow from the Christmas tree casts a gentle light on your features—a slight furrow to your brow as you tilt your head, holding a new ornament in your hand.

“Are… you okay? You look like you’re plotting something.”

He straightens instantly, schooling his features into an easy grin, but it’s a little too late for that—you’re watching him too closely, as if trying to unravel the puzzle in his head.

“Me? Plotting? Never.” He leans back, resting an arm across the top of the couch. “Just wondering if we need a bigger tree. This one’s lookin’ a little small.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously, and for a moment, he wonders if you can see straight through him.

You always do.

“Satoru,” you deadpan, and fuck—he knows he’s lost. “This tree is ten feet tall.”

He shrugs, as though you’ve just proven his point.

“Yeah… but like… wouldn’t fifteen feet look better? That’d be a real statement.”

Your groan comes with a roll of your eyes, but it’s paired with the grin he was hoping for.

“Sure, let’s just knock down the ceiling while we’re at it. Maybe put the Empire State Building in here for good measure.”

He chuckles, relieved by your sarcasm, and for a moment, his deflection works—you turn away, back to the tree. He watches you carefully loop another ornament onto a branch while Haru tugs at your sweater, babbling about a penguin ornament.

But as soon as your attention has shifted, it’s back—that gnawing uncertainty, that quiet panic clawing at the edges of his mind.

Good lord, when did this get so hard?

He’s Satoru Gojo. He can charm his way through anything, pull the strings of the world’s most powerful people, and yet he’s paralyzed by the thought of picking out a gift for you.

The longer he thinks about it, the worse it gets. You deserve something perfect—something thoughtful. But what does perfect even look like?

What do you give someone who doesn’t want anything money can buy? How does he give you a gift that carries the weight of what you’ve given him?

“Santa’s gonna like our tree, right, Mama?”

Haru’s voice rings up like a bright chime, tugging him back to the room—to reality.

He watches as you glance down, and a soft smile blooms across your lips as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind Haru’s ear. That look—the one you reserve for her, the kind that could thaw glaciers—hits him squarely in the chest.

“He’ll love it, sweetheart.”

Your voice is as light and sure as the snow falling gently outside the frosted windows, and Haru grins, pivoting to Satoru now.

“’toru!” her face lights up like the tree behind her, “Santa’s coming! He’s gonna bring presents, and cookies, and he loves hot cocoa!”

Raising a brow, Satoru slouches further back into the couch with that practiced ease—masking the chaos still whirling behind his nonchalant façade.

“Hot cocoa, huh? With marshmallows?”

Haru nods so hard, her little curls bounce and her entire being vibrates with conviction.

“He loves marshmallows! And cookies. And maybe waffles too.”

Satoru huffs out a soft laugh, his smile easing.

“That’s a pretty sweet deal for Santa,” he murmurs.

With all the grace of a puppy on ice, Haru scrambles up onto the couch cushion beside him, wiggling her way into place. Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, though it’s far from quiet.

“Mama makes the best hot cocoa. We should have some.”

The confidence in her tone makes him snort quietly, and he raises a brow—playing along.

“The best, huh? Mmm.. I dunno. That’s a pretty big claim, kid.”

“It’s true!” she insists.

And then there’s your laughter—soft, light, and entirely unguarded as it floats from behind him. It’s a sound he’s learned to treasure, one he’d bottle up if he could, a warmth that sinks beneath his skin and quiets everything else.

He swears it’s one of his favorite sounds.

“You know what? That’s a good idea,” you say, ruffling Haru’s hair as you step behind the couch.

But then, you pause beside him, leaning down to press the faintest kiss to his temple—a feather-light touch, and it strikes him like a match catching fire, warmth unfurling from that single point of contact.

Oh, how he loves the touch of your lips.

“I’m gonna grab some hot chocolate—with marshmallows, of course,” your hand brushes briefly through his hair before pulling away. “Watch Haru real quick, yeah?”

Tilting his head back to look at you, he swallows down the tightness in his chest, masking it all with another lazy smirk—because he doesn’t know how to show you just how much that tenderness means to him. How much he loves when you touch him like that, so unthinking, like it’s natural.

And for Satoru, masking it is second nature—it always has been.

“Yeah, yeah… I’ve got it covered,” he waves you off with a dramatic flick of his hand.

You roll your eyes with an affectionate huff, and he lets himself watch you for a moment longer as you disappear into the kitchen, your humming trailing softly behind you like a ribbon that tethers him to you.

And then, silence.

The moment the door swings shut, he lets out a slow, quiet exhale, the tension uncoiling from his shoulders as if he’s been holding himself together for too long.

He slumps back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion, feeling the ghost of your touch where your fingers had been in his hair. With a sigh, he runs a hand through the same spot, smoothing the strands down absently as if he can capture what’s already gone.

It’s ridiculous how much you’ve undone him. How a single kiss, a fleeting touch, can dismantle the person he’s spent so long pretending to be.

Because in those fleeting moments, when it’s just him and the lingering warmth of you, Satoru Gojo—the man who never lets his mask slip—realizes just how tightly wound he’s become. Just how much of himself he’s spent trying to hold it all together when, in moments like that, you make it so damn easy for him to fall apart.

He closes his eyes for just a breath, letting himself feel it—the calm, the weight of it all, the way his heart stirs.

But then—

A sudden rustling sound shatters the quiet, pulling him sharply from his thoughts. One eye cracks open, blinking lazily as he scans the room.

His gaze lands on Haru, and the breath leaves his chest in a sigh that’s somewhere between disbelief and resignation.

There she is—somehow, in the span of seconds—teetering precariously on the armrest of the couch, her tiny arms outstretched like she’s on a tightrope, her face scrunched in determination.

Satoru stares at her for a beat, utterly disheveled and utterly defeated. His head tilts lazily to the side as he watches her.

“Oi,” he drawls, dragging a hand down his face with a groan that’s more exasperation than anything. “Munchkin. What do you think you’re doing?”

Haru doesn’t even flinch. She grins, wide and triumphant, wobbling dangerously like a baby deer.

“I’m tall, ‘toru!”

He blinks at her, deadpan, before letting his hand fall limply to his lap.

“Yeah? Well, you’re also gonna fall on your face.”

“Nu-uh!” she insists, wiggling her feet against the cushion for emphasis.

“Kid…” He straightens with a reluctant sigh, reaching out with one hand, just in case she topples over. “You’re gonna get me in trouble. You do realize your mom’ll murder me if she catches you pulling stunts like this, right?”

Haru giggles—loud, unbothered, entirely unfazed.

“It’s okay. I’m good!” she declares proudly, as if she’s just conquered Mount Everest.

“You sure about that?” Satoru raises a brow, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. “Because… you’re about two seconds away from face-planting into the tree. And I’ll tell ya right now—Santa’s not gonna bring you anything if you wreck his setup.”

Haru freezes, her expression suddenly serious.

“He won’t?”

Satoru shrugs, as casual as ever, though there’s a sly gleam in his eye.

“Nope. Santa’s big on the whole naughty or nice thing, you know? Pretty sure ‘tree-destroyer’ lands you on the naughty list.”

Haru’s jaw drops like he’s just shattered her entire world.

“But I’m nice!”

“Yeah, well…” he sighs dramatically, “You’re not exactly convincing me right now, short stack.”

She gasps—a flurry of tiny limbs as she clambers down from the armrest in a dramatic tumble onto the cushions.

“I’m nice!” she insists again, louder this time, as if sheer volume might make it more convincing.

Satoru huffs out a laugh, ruffling her hair in an act of surrender.

“Yeah, yeah… crisis averted, princess. You’re nice. I’ll put in a good word for you with the big guy. Just… no more stunts, kay? Santa’s watching.”

She squints at him suspiciously, like she’s testing the limits of his authority over Santa Claus, before finally settling back with a small huff.

But then, Haru shifts entirely to look at him—her brows pinching together, her tiny face suddenly serious.

The shift catches him off guard—how a two-year-old can go from giggling chaos to this kind of weighty focus will always baffle him.

“‘toru.”

He quirks a brow, leaning an elbow against the back of the couch.

“…yeah?”

“You hafta tell Santa to get Mama something.”

The words catch him off guard. His grin falters just a fraction as he blinks, straightening a little to study her tiny, earnest face.

How the hell does this kid always seem to know exactly what’s on his mind?

“Oh yeah? Something for your mom, huh?”

Haru nods solemnly, as if she’s just handed him the most important mission of his life.

“Mhmm. Santa forgot last year.”

At that, his heart stumbles, the smile fading from his face.

“W-What? He… forgot?”

“Uh-huh.” Haru props herself on her elbows, swinging her feet idly against the couch. “Mama didn’t get a present.”

The simplicity of her words hits him like a punch to the gut. Innocent and unassuming, but full of a truth she doesn’t fully understand.

Satoru doesn’t respond right away, his mind suddenly swirling.

That unsettles him. The fact that no one thought to bring you anything at all?

You—who pours so much of yourself into others, who has brought a warmth into his life he didn’t think he deserved—spent last Christmas with nothing?

No gifts. No family. No one?

He hates the thought. He knows it shouldn’t surprise him though... you’ve never asked for anything, and it’s not hard to fill in the blanks.

You don’t talk much about your family—he knows there’s distance there, silence where there should be connection—and Naoya, well… he was never part of the picture. But still, the realization knocks something loose in Satoru, a quiet ache settling into the spaces he didn’t know could hurt.

“It’s no fair, ‘toru. Mama’s nice too!”

Satoru swallows hard, dragging a hand through his hair as he forces a smile back onto his face.

“Yeah… you’re right, kid…” he murmurs quietly. “Your mom’s on the very top of the nice list.”

Haru beams, her hands clasping together like she’s already imagining the magic of Christmas morning.

“Tell Santa, ’kay? Mama needs something really nice.”

The simplicity of her words hits him like a sledgehammer.

Something really nice.

As if it’s that easy, as if fixing the pieces of your world can be done with one perfect gift. But to Haru, it is that easy. Because to her, Santa fixes things.

And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo feels the weight of expectation—not from a boardroom, or a title, or the world that demands he be untouchable—but from a tiny girl who trusts him implicitly to fix the one thing he’s been so afraid to get right.

Fucking hell. Now he’s back to square one. What the hell is he going to get you?

He leans back into the couch, one arm draped lazily along the back, but his mind is already turning—the gears clicking into place.

“Something… nice, huh?” he says softly, more to himself than to her.

Haru beams, her little legs kicking against the cushion again as she settles back, satisfied that her request has been heard.

“Yup!”

Satoru tilts his head toward her, studying her with a thoughtful squint. Kids always seem to know the answers to things grown-ups can’t figure out. She’s managed to pry into his thoughts with frightening accuracy already, so maybe—just maybe—she’s his best shot at figuring this out.

After all, who knows you better than Haru?

“Well…” he says after a beat, angling a glance toward her, “what do you think Santa should bring your mom then?”

Haru gasps—like this is the most important question she’s ever been asked—and sits up straight, her little face lighting up.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He flicks her nose lightly, earning a squeak and a giggle. “You know your mom better than anyone, right? So… what do you think she wants for Christmas?”

Haru’s brows furrow as she thinks very hard, her tiny hands tapping against her chin for emphasis.  Satoru watches her expectantly, the smallest spark of hope flickering to life in his chest.

“Well…” she starts slowly, drawing the word out as though she’s stalling for time. “Mama likes cookies.”

Satoru blinks. “Uh… cookies?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods solemnly, as if this is the most serious answer in the world. “Chocolate cookies. With milk. I like them too.”

Ah… right. To Haru, the solution is simple—because to a two-year-old, happiness is simple. And for a moment, Satoru envies her for it.

Satoru exhales sharply through his nose, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he humors her.

“Of course you do, princess. Alright. Noted. So Santa’s supposed to bring your mom cookies. What else?”

Haru’s face lights up as another thought strikes her, and she bounces slightly in place.

“Oh! A teddy bear!”

“A teddy bear?” Satoru quirks a brow, half-amused, half-resigned.

“Yeah!” Haru stretches her arms out as wide as they’ll go, as if trying to contain the sheer size of her vision. “A big one. Pink! Really fluffy. Mama can hug it.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. So much for getting a serious answer out of her.

“Okay... so cookies and a big pink bear… anything else?”

Haru pauses again, tapping her chin with her finger like she’s pondering the great mysteries of the cosmos. Then—her eyes go wide, and she gasps, louder this time.

“A pony!”

Satoru stares at her, deadpan. “Really? A pony.”

“Uh-huh!” Haru nods emphatically, little curls bouncing with enthusiasm. “Pink! With sparkles.”

“A… sparkly pink pony?”

“Yes!” She beams, practically vibrating with excitement. “Mama can ride it. I can ride it too. And—and we can give it cookies!”

That does it.

A sharp bark of laughter escapes him before he can stop it, his shoulders shaking as he slumps back against the couch.

With a deep groan, he drags a hand down his face like she’s aged him ten years in two minutes.

He’s getting nowhere.

“Kid… you’re killing me here. Cookies, a teddy bear, and a pony? You’re just listing stuff you want.”

Haru puffs out her cheeks, crossing her arms in protest.

“Nuh-uh! Mama likes ponies. And cookies. And bears.”

Satoru sighs again, tilting his head back against the couch with an exaggerated groan.

This kid.

Her world is so simple—so bright and innocent. Cookies, teddy bears, and ponies.

Haru doesn’t overthink it. She doesn’t make it complicated. To her, happiness is just that—simple.

And maybe… that’s what he needs to remember.

They’re terrible suggestions, but she’s right about one thing: you deserve something really nice. Something that makes you smile—something that feels as bright and simple and warm as Haru’s world.

And if Santa won’t fix it, then damnit, he will.

“Everything okay in here?”

Your voice calls out lightly, followed by the soft clink of mugs. The moment Satoru hears you; he straightens a little, his casual mask snapping back into place.

Stepping in, a tray balances carefully in your hands, three steaming mugs of hot chocolate wobbling precariously as you nudge the door shut with your hip.

The smell hits the room before you do—sweet, rich cocoa laced with the sugary promise of marshmallows—and Satoru thinks that it might as well be magic, with how Haru perks up.

“Mama!” she bounces on her knees so enthusiastically; Satoru thinks it’s a miracle the couch doesn’t catapult her into orbit. “Yay!! Hot cocoa!”

“Mhmm. Hot chocolate delivery!” you announce proudly, lowering the tray onto the coffee table with a dramatic flourish and a smile of pure satisfaction. “Marshmallows included, as requested.”

The soft glow of the Christmas tree dances in your eyes as you kneel in front of Haru, carefully handing her a small mug.

“Two hands, Haru. It’s hot, okay?”

Haru nods solemnly, as if you’ve just bestowed upon her the Holy Grail itself. Her little fingers curl reverently around the mug, and she murmurs softly, “’kay.”

Rising, you hand Satoru his mug next, and he clears his throat—mumbling a quiet “thanks.” When you settle on the couch beside him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulder brushes against his—your own mug cradled in your hands.

For a moment, it’s calm. The Christmas lights flicker across the room like soft, lazy stars, the cocoa steaming faintly in the air, and Satoru almost lets himself believe this is pure perfection.

But then you ask it.

“And what were you two talking about?” you peer between the two of them with a teasing smile. “I heard lots of giggling.”

Satoru freezes, his mug halfway to his mouth. He’s ready to spin some ridiculous excuse—he’s a master at bullshit, after all—but before he can get the words out, Haru beats him to it.

“We were talking about presents!” Haru announces proudly.

Fuck. That tiny traitor.

Satoru schools his expression, plastering on his best lazy grin as if Haru hasn’t just sold him out for free. He doesn’t need you catching on to the fact that he’s been silently losing his mind trying to figure out what to get you for Christmas.

You arch a brow, amused as you blow lightly on your cocoa.

“Presents, huh? What about presents?”

Haru doesn’t even hesitate. She launches into her list like a kid on a mission.

“Mama, ‘toru is gonna tell Santa we need cookies. And a big pink bear. And a pony!”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relaxing fractionally against the cushions. Of course. The kid’s list is nonsense—pure, two-year-old chaos—and she’s so earnest about it that you’ll never suspect Satoru was fishing for information.

He’s safe.

“Uh-huh,” you hum, nodding indulgently as you sip your drink. “Sounds like quite the Christmas list, sweetheart. Anything else?”

Satoru almost smiles into his mug. It’s ridiculous how close he was to panicking—there’s no need.

But as Haru stops, her face scrunches in concentration before it lights up again. She looks straight at you, eyes wide and earnest, as she adds brightly:

“And I want a little brother!”

Oh, shit.

Satoru chokes—actually chokes—mid-sip, sputtering and coughing like he’s forgotten how to drink liquid. You don’t fare much better, nearly inhaling your cocoa as your head jerks up, eyes wide as saucers.

“A—what?” you croak.

Satoru’s shoulders shake, one arm flung over his face as he tries to muffle his laughter. It’s no use—his wheezing breaths betray him, and he can’t help but grin through his coughs.

“Haru, kid—”

“A little brother!” Haru repeats, utterly unfazed by the chaos she’s unleashed. Her tiny hands still cradle her mug, looking up at you with innocent conviction. “Santa can bring one. Like how he brings the toys.”

Satoru peeks out from behind his hand, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his laughter tumbles out in unfiltered bursts.

Oh, this is gold. Pure gold.

You whip your head toward him so fast he thinks you might pull something. Your cheeks are flushed—whether from the cocoa or mortification, he’s not sure—and your glare could cut steel. It would have him worried for his life if it weren’t so damn funny.

“Satoru Gojo, what did you say to her?”

“Me?!” he splutters, desperately trying to get his composure back. He throws his hands up in mock innocence, laughter shaking in his shoulders. “Hey, don’t look at me! That’s all her!”

Haru blinks at the two of you, her expression perfectly innocent.

“Santa brings presents, right? So he can bring a brother. A nice one. And he’ll ride the pony with me.”

Your hand flies to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shake your head, biting back the laughter threatening to spill out.

“Haru… sweetheart, that’s… not how it works.”

“Why not?” she asks, and it’s like she genuinely can’t fathom why Santa wouldn’t pull through on such a reasonable request.

Satoru, finally breathing normally again, leans forward with his elbows on his knees—the smirk on his face nothing short of diabolical.

“Yeah, Mama,” he drawls, dripping with mischief. “Why not?”

Your glare sharpens as you turn toward him. “Do not encourage her.”

“Hey,” he’s utterly unrepentant as he leans back lazily, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “I’m just saying—if Santa’s listening, we wouldn’t want Haru to be disappointed, right?” Tilting his head, he smirks at you. “Looks like Santa’s got his work cut out for him this year.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands as Satoru lets his laughter spill out again, unbothered and thoroughly entertained.

Meanwhile, Haru hums to herself, swinging her legs and sipping her hot chocolate contentedly.

“It’s okay, Mama,” she assures you with a confident nod. “Santa’s magic. He can do it.”

ꨄ

The past few days had been a blur of snow, laughter, and tiny hands tugging Satoru in every direction.

If someone had told Satoru Gojo that he’d spend his holiday season wrangling a two-year-old in the snow and actually enjoying himself, he would’ve laughed them out of the room. But here he was, standing knee-deep in the white fluff while Haru shrieked with glee, launching another snowball his way.

“Take this, ‘Toru!” she cried.

The kid’s aim was absolute trash, her snowballs missing him by a mile, but the way she shrieked with delight when Satoru “pretended” to get hit—well, it made it impossible for him not to play along.

“Kid, you’re ruthless,” he’d groaned dramatically after she tackled him into the snow for the third time.

And then there was you. You—standing off to the side like some winter painting coming to life—warm coffee in hand, wearing that smug smile he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss or wipe clean with a snowball.

He swore you’d been the one to tip Haru off about aiming for his knees. Traitor.

The snow had been Haru’s personal playground—and, by extension, his. For days now, his life had been an endless stream of winter chaos: sledding trips that left his muscles aching (Haru’s favorite phrase seemed to be “One more time!”).

Oh, and inside the Gojo estate? More chaos, pure and simple.

Haru’s Christmas cookie baking turned into an all-out war zone—flour dusting the countertops, chocolate chips mysteriously vanishing before they made it into the dough (a crime Satoru was not-so-secretly guilty of), and Haru wearing more icing than she’d used.

Still, the chaos didn’t bother him. He was struck, again and again, by the realization that this—this messy, chaotic, perfect life—was because of you.

And the high-end galas you’d been forced to attend as the faces of the Gojo Corporation—the press, the flashing lights, the constant conversations—all of it felt easier with you beside him.

And you? Well… you carried yourself with a poise that Satoru was genuinely impressed with. But beneath that, he could tell that these past few weeks had taken a toll on you.

You were exhausted.

The late nights catching up on work, the charity events, the endless holiday prep—you hid it well, but Satoru noticed the way your shoulders slumped when you thought no one was looking. The way you sighed as you kicked off your heels by the door.

And it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

It wasn’t just the exhaustion, though. It was this look in your eyes—something wistful, like you were watching all the joy and chaos around you, but holding yourself at a distance.

Satoru didn’t like that. Not one bit.

And still, despite everything, he hadn’t figured out what the hell to get you for Christmas.

The frustration simmered under his skin, gnawing at him whenever he thought about it. You deserved something perfect—something that would remind you how much you were loved. But every time he thought he had it, every idea felt wrong.

Too extravagant, too impersonal, too damn meaningless.

And now, tonight, as he sits at the kitchen table pretending to sip his hot chocolate (while sneaking glances at you sorting through Christmas cards), the idea struck him like a light bulb flickering on.

If he couldn’t figure out the gift just yet, there was one thing he could do.

He could give you a moment. Just one night to breathe—to feel cared for.

Leaning back in his chair, his legs stretch out underneath the table as he watches you—that little furrow of concentration in your brow. You aren’t even faintly aware of how tired you look, or notice when his voice breaks the quiet silence.

“Hey.”

You hum absently, still focused.

“Tomorrow night, don’t make any plans.”

Your gaze lifts, brows raising slightly as suspicion flickers across your face.

“Okay… why?”

“Mmm… ‘cause I’m kidnapping you,” he teases, folding his arms behind his head. “Just dress warm. It’s a surprise.”

That earns him a proper look—you eyeing him skeptically, your lips twitching like you were already fighting back a smile.

Bingo. That’s the look he lives for.

ꨄ

The night air is crisp, biting at his cheeks in a way that’s sharp but oddly pleasant, like winter itself is showing off. Snowflakes drift lazily from the dark sky, glowing gold as they pass through the light of the estate’s lanterns, and the world is blanketed in that perfect kind of quiet—soft, still, almost fragile. A nice kind of quiet.

It’d be perfect, really, if not for the sound of your increasingly dramatic sighs cutting through it.

Satoru tugs his scarf higher around his neck, not because he’s cold—he never seems to feel the cold—but because he’s trying to hide the grin pulling at his lips. He glances over his shoulder to find you trudging through the snow like a grumpy little marshmallow, bundled so thoroughly in your coat and scarf that you look like you’re about to tip over.

“You’re gonna freeze to death if you keep trudging like that,” he calls easily over the snow, making no effort to hide the amusement in his tone.

“I wouldn’t have to trudge if you’d slow down, Gojo,” you snap back, and your exasperation is muffled slightly by the scarf wrapped around your face. “Not everyone has legs like a damn giraffe.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unbothered, a puff of white against the dark sky. Deliberately, he slows his steps to a near-comical saunter, his boots sinking into the snow with every exaggerated step.

“Better, princess?”

“Barely…” You catch up, though you don’t look particularly grateful about it. “I swear, if you keep dragging me through the Arctic tundra—”

“Oh, come on,” he interrupts, stopping in his tracks. His grin is pure mischief, bright even in the dark. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“It died about twenty feet ago,” you mutter, shoulders hunching as you try to burrow deeper into your coat.

He holds out his hand to you with a dramatic flourish, fingers wiggling like he’s offering you salvation itself.

“Here,” his sighs affectionately. “Before you collapse and I have to carry you.”

You stare at his hand for a long moment, clearly torn between taking it and smacking it away. The tension only makes his grin widen.

“C’mon now… you’ll bruise my ego if you say no.”

With a sigh that sounds like a thousand reluctant decisions being made at once, you slip your gloved hand into his. It’s small and warm, even through the layers, and Satoru’s grin falters for just a second when he feels your fingers curl around his.

Did he just get butterflies? That’s dangerous. He’s gotta keep it together.

“Atta girl…” he says softly, a bit too softly for his own comfort. But he covers it up with a gentle tug, pulling you closer as the two of you trudge forward.

The path winds through the trees, the branches drooping under layers of snow. Some of them stretch over the walkway, woven with twinkling lights, so it feels like you’re walking through some kind of enchanted tunnel.

It’s the kind of thing that could make anyone believe in magic, and Satoru would probably be soaking it all in… if he wasn’t so preoccupied with watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Your nose is pink, your cheeks dusted with color from the cold, and there’s a light in your eyes that makes something stir in his chest. He tugs his scarf a little higher, like that’ll help somehow.

Then, just ahead, golden light spills onto the snow. A sleigh comes into view, and Satoru slows his steps as you round the corner and see it.

It’s impressive, even he has to admit. The carriage looks straight out of some over-the-top fairytale, polished black and draped with garlands of evergreen—dusted in fresh snow. Strings of soft golden lights wind along the edges, glowing warmly in the dark.

The horses, two massive creatures with sleek dark coats, stand tall and still, their breath misting in the air. Tiny bells dangle from their bridles, giving a soft jingle every time they shift.

It’s almost too picturesque, like something out of one of those cheesy Christmas movies Satoru always pretends to hate.

He doesn’t look at the sleigh, though. He looks at you.

Your eyes go wide, your mouth parting slightly in surprise, and for a moment, you’re so still he wonders if the cold finally got to you. The snowflakes catch in your hair, the glow of the lights reflecting in your wide-eyed expression, and there it is again—that quiet spark that makes his chest tighten.

“Well?” he breaks the silence with a quiet murmur. “Was it… worth the trek through the Arctic tundra?”

You blink, dragging your gaze away from the sleigh to look at him. There’s something different in your expression now—softer, quieter.

“You did all this?”

He shrugs, slipping his free hand into his coat pocket and forcing a grin onto his face.

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

“Ridiculous…” you murmur, shaking your head with a faint smile, but there’s no edge to your words. Just that quiet disbelief, like you’re still trying to figure him out.

He gestures to the sleigh with an exaggerated sweep of his hand.

“Well? You gonna stand there and let the snow bury you, or are you getting in?”

The driver steps aside with a polite nod, and Satoru’s already moving to help you—steadying you as you step up into the sleigh, his hand lingering at your waist.

When you settle into the plush seat with a quiet exhale, Satoru’s brain takes a quick pause to tell himself that he’s absolutely screwed.

Because if Satoru thought walking through the snow with your hand in his was dangerous, this is a death blow.

But he still climbs in beside you, moments later—tugging the blanket over your laps as the sleigh jolts softly forward.

The bells chime faintly as the horses’ hooves crunch against the snow. They carry you both down the path, allowing the forest to melt away completely as the sleigh crests a small hill, and suddenly, the town comes into view—a world awash in color and magic.

Lights shimmer from every surface—woven through trees, strung like ribbons between lamp posts, wrapped snug around shopfronts as though the entire place has been dipped in starlight.

Shop windows gleam with warmth, framed by wreaths and garlands dusted with frost, while displays of tiny trains, glowing reindeer, and spinning nutcrackers turn slowly behind the glass.

As the sleigh turns fully onto the main street, Satoru glances at you, and predictably, you’re completely mesmerized.

He knows, because you’ve gone completely still beside him—your breath visible in the cold as you take it all in—and he doesn’t even bother to look at the lights anymore, not when you’re staring at them like you’ve stumbled into a dream.

That glow in your expression—soft and open—that’s what mesmerizes him. And the reflection of the lights in your wide eyes gives him the urge to bottle this moment—keep it tucked in his coat pocket forever, so he can pull it out and look at it whenever the world gets too loud.

The bells from the horses chime softly, blending seamlessly with the hum of life ahead—children laughing, carols echoing, the soft crunch of fresh snow.

But Satoru can’t focus on any of that.

Snowflakes have caught in your hair, little flecks of white like frost spun from the lights above. Your lips, soft and faintly parted, are far too close to his line of sight, and his gaze catches there for longer than it should.

Satoru’s brain is short-circuiting.

He’s never been good at this. Restraint. Holding back. Not when it comes to things he wants, things he craves—and God, does he crave your lips so badly.

You shift slightly, burrowing deeper into his side with a soft hum of contentment that nearly knocks the wind out of him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you murmur suddenly, as soft as the snow.

He clears his throat lightly, tipping his head back in a lazy attempt at distraction—trying to focus on literally anything else.

“Yeah… not bad,” his voice carries the faintest edge of smugness. “Bet you’re glad I dragged you out here now.”

You hum softly, a little laugh under your breath.

“Yeah… guess I’ll give you this one.”

But as you shift slightly again, your head tilts, and your gaze lingers on something ahead.

In the square below, a father spins his daughter in his arms as she shrieks with laughter—bright red mittens flailing in the air. The mother stands beside then with a warm soft smile, brushing the snowflakes gently out of the little girl’s hair as she settles still.

It’s simple—a fleeting moment of joy—but Satoru notices the way your expression changes. The glow in your eyes dim, just slightly, fading into something distant, something far away.

He doesn’t like it.

It’s not the first time he’s seen that look either. It’s lingered in your eyes at odd moments during the month when you think he isn’t watching.

“Hey… you okay?”

The question snaps you from whatever memory you’ve fallen into. You blink quickly, turning to him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“What? Oh… yeah. I’m fine.”

It’s a lie. A bad one.

Satoru knows it instantly because your voice wavers, just slightly, and your hands fidget under the blanket like they’re looking for something to hold onto.

He doesn’t push right away. Satoru isn’t great at handling fragile things—he’s all big, teasing words and careless confidence—but seeing this?

You—retreating into yourself, suddenly quiet? Yeah… it never really sits right with him.

“You know…” he starts carefully, voice softening as he watches you, “you’ve already heard all about my old man. But you… you don’t really talk about your family much. What was Christmas like for you growing up?”

The words settle like snow between you—soft, quiet, but heavy. You stiffen slightly.

Fuck. Maybe he’s said too much. Regret flickers in the back of his mind. He’s half-expecting you to deflect.

You hesitate, staring at the lights again as though they’ll save you from answering, and for the first time, Satoru curses those damn Christmas lights. They feel like they’re pulling you away from him.

But then you sigh, and the sound makes something twist low in his chest. It’s too careful. Too practiced.

“Mmm… there’s not much to talk about,” you admit quietly. “My parents weren’t exactly… involved, so Christmas wasn’t really a thing for us.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches you carefully, like he’s waiting. He knows there’s more, and he’s careful not to push, not yet.

“I used to watch all the Christmas movies, though,” a faint wistful smile tugs at your lips. “The ones where families sat by the fire… wrapping gifts and baking cookies, singing carols together. It felt… magical. Safe. Like they belonged there.”

The smile slips slightly, and Satoru sees the moment the words shift—when they stop being a memory and start being something else entirely.

“But…” your voice dips to a whisper, “Honestly it was like watching through a window. I felt like a spectator. Always outside looking in.”

There it is.

The words hit him square in the chest, sharp and unrelenting, and Satoru hates it. Hates how small you sound when you say it, like you don’t realize how wrong it is for someone like you—you—to feel that way. It makes his jaw tighten, his fingers twitching faintly under the blanket.

“That’s not fair,” he blurts out, faster than he means to. The sharp edge in his voice surprises even him, but he doesn’t care. “I hate it. It’s not right. You shouldn’t have had to feel like that.”

Your head turns slightly, your eyes flicking back to him, startled.

“Satoru—”

“It’s not fair,” he repeats, reining it in slightly this time. He shakes his head, turning to look at you fully now. “And you know what? It’s not like that now. You’ve done the exact opposite.”

You blink again, your brows furrowing faintly.

“What do you mean?”

The surprise on your face makes him huff a quiet laugh. He can’t believe you don’t see it.

“C’mon now sweetheart… I mean, look at Haru.”

Your expression softens at the mention of her, and Satoru feels that familiar twist in his chest—this inexplicable warmth that’s only grown stronger since you and Haru came crashing into his life.

“She’s a happy kid,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve made her a happy kid. Kind of a little terror sometimes—definitely gets that from you—but happy nonetheless.”

You roll your eyes faintly, but there’s a tug at the corner of your mouth that you can’t quite hide.

“Seriously,” he continues, a smirk teasing at his lips now. “That kid lights up at the dumbest stuff—like that ornament she found with the penguin in a Santa hat. You’d think she struck gold. She made me stare at that thing for ten minutes straight.”

You groan, pressing a gloved hand to your face, but there’s a small laugh behind it now.

“She did the same to me.”

Satoru chuckles, low and easy, though his expression softens as he looks at you.

“Because to her, it is magic. You made that happen. You gave her something real, something she’ll hold onto forever. The kind of magic you didn’t have.”

You open your mouth like you want to say something but can’t quite get there yet, and he leans in closer.

“And it’s not just her…” he murmurs hesitantly. “You’ve done that for me too.”

His blue eyes fix on yours with a quiet vulnerability, and your brows furrow faintly as you stare at him.

“What? Really?”

For a moment, Satoru freezes.

Vulnerability isn’t something he’s good at—it doesn’t come naturally to him; he’s always kept people at arm’s length. But somehow, around you, it slips out easier than he expects. Like you’ve managed to dismantle his walls one smile, one moment at a time.

Around you, he doesn’t have to try so hard. And it’s fucking terrifying.

His throat tightens, but he shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing—even though he knows it’s everything.

“Look… I used to sit in these massive rooms my dad filled with people. All the decorations, all the noise—he made sure it looked perfect. Trees the size of small buildings, tables stacked with enough food to feed an army.”

Satoru pauses, his blue gaze flickering to the snow-dusted path ahead before settling back on you.

“But… none of it mattered. I’d sit there, surrounded by hundreds of people, and still felt so damn alone. Like I wasn’t really there, y’know?”

Your face softens, and he feels it again—that warmth that only seems to exist when you’re looking at him like this, like you can see straight through him. You always do.

“But now?” he exhales, breath curling into the cold air like smoke—his eyes meeting yours fully. “Christmas feels… different. Doesn’t feel so empty anymore.”

“…yeah?”

“Yup…” he shakes off the tension with a sigh, and smugly adds, “You’ve officially ruined Christmas for me, sweetheart. Thanks a lot. Can’t have it any other way now.”

Your laughter comes quietly, and God, there’s that sound that he loves again. Your gloved hand finds his underneath the blanket.

“Well…” your fingers curl around his. “Thanks to you, I finally don’t feel like a spectator anymore… ‘cause you’re in my life.”

Shit.

Satoru swears his heart trips over itself. For a guy who never feels the cold, he’s never felt this warm.

The sleigh jolts suddenly, rolling over a bump in the snow, and the movement sends you swaying against him with a soft gasp.

You’re so close—close enough that he can see the faint blush on your cheeks, the soft part of your lips as you glance up at him.

Your gaze flickers—just once—down to his mouth.

That’s it.

He leans in, his hand slipping out from under the blanket to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin as he kisses you.

The first press of his lips against yours is careful, tentative, but then you sigh softly, tilting your head slightly, and Satoru’s restraint snaps like a wire pulled too tight.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, as Satoru tilts your face up to meet him properly. His other hand finds your waist, the curve of it fitting perfectly under his palm as he pulls you closer—closer, because he needs you like he needs to breathe.

He swears he’s losing his mind.

You respond just as eagerly, your fingers curling into the front of his coat, and Satoru groans softly against your mouth—equal parts relief and desperation.

He’s screwed. Utterly, completely screwed.

Because now that he’s kissed you, he doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to stop. All he can think about—all he wants—is to pull you into his lap right here on this stupid sleigh and kiss you until the world stops spinning.

His mind betrays him, flooding with images he has no business thinking about right now. Your legs straddling his hips, your coat slipping off one shoulder, coaxing sounds from you that he’s dying to hear—fuck he’s losing himself completely.

He wants to take you—away from the prying world, away from everyone—somewhere that’s just the two of you—home.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only because even Satoru Gojo can’t survive without air forever. But he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests gently against yours and his thumb brushes softly along your jaw.

The corner of your mouth curves faintly and your eyes linger on him—just enough to make his heart skip like it’s forgotten how to work.

It’s torture. Absolute, pure, devastating torture.

His thumb drifts lower along your jaw, reverently tracing the soft line of it. He could stay here forever, just like this—your breath mixing with his in the cold air, your lips pink and kiss-bruised from him.

God, you’ve never looked more beautiful. He wants more.

Shifting slightly, his breath fans across your lips as he murmurs, “You’re so perfect… you’re making this really hard for me, y’know that?”

Blinking up at him, your lips tug into a soft, teasing smile. “Oh?” you murmur, breathlessly. “And what exactly am I making hard, Satoru?”

His breath hitches. Shit. You’re going to be the death of him. He chuckles softly—strained and fraying like his self-control.

“Careful, sweetheart. Keep asking questions like that, and I might just take you home right now.”

Tilting your head, your voice lowers—a quiet challenge.

“…why don’t you, then?”

God, what the fuck are you doing to him?

For a moment, he wants to say screw it. Forget the stupid sleigh, the town, his plans. Forget the world and take you straight to bed where he doesn’t have to hold back anymore.

Take her. Have her all to yourself.

But then your wide, daring eyes lock onto his, and it hits him—you’re playing him—you’re winning. And Satoru Gojo does not lose.

With a slow, shaky breath, he pulls back just slightly. The smirk curling at his lips is lazy, practiced—masking the fact that he’s literally about five seconds from falling apart.

“Mmm… tempting,” he drawls, brushing the pad of his gloved thumb against your bottom lip. “But I’m not that easy to break, sweetheart. Besides, we’ve got more to explore.”

Your eyes narrow faintly, suspicion flickering beneath the teasing curve of your lips.

“You’re unbelievable…”

“Mm, you say that now,” he sighs, “But you’ll thank me later.”

You scoff quietly, rolling your eyes as you lean back just an inch.

“More to explore, huh?”

“Yeah.” His grin widens, lazy and lopsided. “And if you’re good, I might even let you hold my hand the whole time.”

ꨄ

“You’re going to rot your teeth, you know,” you say, watching as Satoru unwraps yet another snickerdoodle cookie—his fifth, by your count.

“Excuse you.” He pauses dramatically, holding the cookie up like it’s a priceless artifact. “I’m single-handedly funding this poor vendor’s retirement. Call me generous.”

You snort into your hot chocolate.

“More like you’re single-handedly making sure they run out of stock before dinner.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He takes a slow, deliberate, obnoxiously loud bite, eyes locked on you the whole time. “I’m boosting the economy, sweetheart.”

“You’re boosting your dentist’s next paycheck, honey.”

Satoru groans, tossing his head back like you’ve just deeply insulted his honor.

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t appreciate the artistry of sweets like I do.”

“Oh, I appreciate them,” you retort smugly, tugging him away by his coat sleeve before he can eye the next vendor’s table. “I just don’t inhale sugar like I’m storing it for winter.”

“Amateur,” Satoru quips, biting into the cookie with dramatic flair. “You’ll learn.”

“Yeah yeah… I’m cutting you off before you go into a sugar coma.”

“Cutting me off?” He presses a hand to his chest like you’ve insulted his entire existence. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” You grin victoriously, striding ahead of him through the snow-dappled streets.

“Cold. Heartless. A tyrant, really.” Satoru’s voice follows dramatically as he trudges after you, shoving the final bite into his mouth with zero shame. “This is abuse, I tell you.”

“You’ll live.”

“Barely.”

The two of you wander together through the town, your shoulders brushing every so often as you pass small stalls and shops.

The shop windows glow faintly, wreaths and garlands framing every corner, and the air smells of roasted chestnuts and warm cinnamon.

You stop suddenly ahead of him, your steps faltering as your gaze locks onto the massive Christmas tree at the center of the square.

Satoru follows your gaze, and the thing is ridiculous—exactly the kind of over-the-top nonsense Satoru’s father would brag about back in the day. Towering, glittering, competing with the stars like it thinks it has a chance.

But for once, Satoru doesn’t care about the ridiculousness. He only cares about you.

You stand perfectly still, staring up at the tree with something quiet and awed in your expression, like you’ve forgotten the rest of the world exists.

The golden lights catch in your eyes, snowflakes drifting lazily into your hair, and the faintest pink lingers across your cheeks from the cold. You’re glowing—and maybe it’s the lights, or maybe it’s just you.

You look perfect. You look his.

There’s that urge again—capturing this moment, bottling in up, keeping it for himself.

The feeling is so sudden, and before he can second-guess it, his hand slips into his coat pocket, pulling out his phone.

The shutter clicks.

Your head whips around instantly, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

Satoru freezes, phone still half-raised, trying to look as nonchalant as a man caught red-handed can. “Nope.”

Your eyes narrow further, shifting on your feet. “Satoru.”

“I was… texting someone,” he says weakly, his grin betraying him.

“Texting who?” you press, eyebrow arching.

“Santa,” he deadpans. “Telling him you’re being mean to me. Again.”

The flat look you give him is priceless. “Good lord. You’re impossible.”

Satoru grins triumphantly, twirling the phone between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. “Fine, fine. You caught me. I couldn’t help it. You looked cute.”

The faint flush of your cheeks deepens slightly—probably the cold, he tells himself, but he’ll take it anyway.

“Let me see it.”

“Not a chance.”

Your glare sharpens, and Satoru swears you’re plotting his demise. “Satoru. Hand it over.”

He snorts, immediately shoving the phone into his coat pocket. “You’re cute when you’re bossy, you know that?”

You step closer, determination lighting your expression. “I will fight you.”

“You wanna wrestle me in the middle of town?” Satoru raises a smug brow, delighting in the way you’re glaring up at him. “With kids around? Heartless, sweetheart. Absolutely heartless.”

Before you try to snatch his phone from his coat pocket, he moves faster—his arm looping lazily around your waist, tugging you into his side with practiced ease.

The suddenness knocks you off balance for a moment, and you let out a soft, startled laugh. Satoru can’t help but grin, using the moment to pull you even closer.

“Alright, alright…” he murmurs, pulling out his phone. “Here. Let’s take one together. Our first real photo together—no work, no press. Just you and me.”

You blink, your eyes flickering up to meet his, the faintest surprise crossing your face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, though the warmth in his voice gives him away. “Gotta document the occasion. Might be the only proof I have that you tolerate me. C’mon, lean in.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s no hiding your smile as you let him pull you closer. He adjusts the camera, keeping his arm secure around you.

“Alright,” he says, angling the phone just right. “Say ‘Gojo Satoru’s the love of my life.’”

You snort, laughing as you nudge him. “I’m not saying that.”

“Mmm… I’ll wait.”

Your laughter bursts through the square, bright and unrestrained, just as the shutter clicks. Before you can recover, Satoru leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as he steals another shot—your laughter caught mid-breath.

“Hey!” you yelp, pulling back to glare at him, but you’re still smiling.

Satoru grins down at the photo as he flips the screen to show you. “Look at that. Photographic evidence that you adore me.”

You gape at him, incredulous. “Adore you?”

“Yep.” He winks, tucking his phone back into his pocket before you can swipe it, catching your hand instead. “Captured for infinity. You’re welcome.”

Your grip tightens on instinct, and you open your mouth to argue, but Satoru beats you to it.

“C’mon,” he swings your hand lightly as he starts pulling you forward again. “The candy stall up ahead has fudge.”

ꨄ

The two of you wander back through the streets, hand in hand as the shops blur by in warm, golden streaks of light.

Satoru doesn’t mind wandering—especially when it means you tugging him along by the hand, pausing every so often to peer into window displays. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you light up at the smallest things.

But then you stop abruptly in front of one shop in particular.

It’s so sudden that Satoru nearly keeps walking, your hand tugging him gently to a halt. When he glances over, he follows your gaze straight to the window of an antique shop tucked snug between two cafes.

And there it is. The locket.

It rests beneath a glass dome, perched on velvet as though it’s worth more than the shop itself. The silver surface gleams faintly under the soft, golden light, delicate and timeless, and engraved across the front is an infinity symbol—curved and flowing endlessly into itself.

Satoru tilts his head slightly, his brows lifting in quiet curiosity as he watches you stare at it—as if that locket holds the entire universe within it.

“See something you like?” he murmurs, looping his arms around your waist and pulling you gently into his chest.

He feels the way you relax into him almost immediately, your hands curling lightly around his forearms.

“Infinity…” you whisper.

He hums, burying his face into the curve of your neck, nuzzling there like he’s trying to steal the warmth of you.

“Hmm?”

You don’t answer right away, your gaze still locked on the locket. Satoru takes the opportunity to press a lazy kiss against the soft skin of your neck, his lips curving into a grin when he feels you shiver slightly beneath him.

“What’s got you so lost in there, huh?” he teases.

“Hmm? Oh…” You blink, your cheeks tinged faintly pink as you glance back at him. “I was just thinking about what you said. About infinity.”

He raises a brow now, a slow grin spreading across his face as he straightens just enough to nudge his chin toward the locket.

“Yeah? You been pondering the mysteries of the universe without me?”

You turn slightly in his arms, your gaze lifting to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you.

“Well,” you begin, smiling faintly, “I’ve been thinking… you’re… well, you’re kind of like infinity, aren’t you?”

Satoru blinks, his grin faltering for a split second.

“Me?”

“Yeah… you’re always moving, always bigger than life, like there’s no end to who you are. You don’t stop—don’t ever really slow down. You’re... limitless.”

For once, Satoru’s brain stalls. Completely. He’s torn between a smug She thinks about me like that? and the sudden ache in his chest that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He sees the way you’re looking at him—soft, honest, like you’re laying something fragile and important at his feet—and it hits him harder than anything he’s prepared for.

Satoru tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer as though that’ll somehow ground him.

“You really think that?” A softness creeps into his voice. “That I remind you of infinity?”

You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. Your gaze drops for a moment before lifting again, steady this time.

“Yeah… because no matter what... you’ll always protect me. You’ll always be here, won’t you? Like infinity. Always.”

Satoru’s breath catches. For once, he doesn’t have a clever comeback. He doesn’t have anything except this overwhelming, all-consuming feeling swelling in his chest.

He dips his head, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. It’s the only answer he has.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs quietly. “Always.”

For a moment, he lingers there, his forehead pressed to yours, your breath mingling in the cold. Then, with a small grin tugging at his lips, he pulls back slightly, arms still secure around you.

“C’mon,” he sighs affectionately. “There’s still fudge with my name on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, your hand slipping back into his as he tugs you gently forward. But as you fall into step beside him, Satoru’s gaze drifts back to the shop window, to the locket resting beneath the glass.

Infinity, huh?

The faintest smile plays on his lips as he squeezes your hand lightly. He finally knows what he’s getting you for Christmas.

ꨄ

For Satoru, Christmas morning felt… surreal.

The Gojo estate, usually silent and polished like a showroom, had transformed into something far more, filled with a warmth—Haru’s delighted squeals echoing down the halls, filling the empty spaces with pure, unfiltered joy.

“Mama! ‘Toru! Wake up! Hurry, hurry!”

Her voice carries like a one-person parade, punctuated by the rapid thump of her tiny feet sprinting towards the tree, and Satoru groans into his pillow—dragging a hand over his face as if that would erase the early hour.

The sun wasn’t even properly up yet, and here he was, reluctantly dragged from the cocoon of his bed by the infectious energy of a two-year-old.

He shuffled down the hall in his pajama pants and hoodie, stifling a yawn as he dragged a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Haru—a blur of bedhead and reindeer pajamas, arms flailing as she skidded to a halt in front of the Christmas tree. Her tiny hands clapped together as her wide eyes took in the mountain of carefully wrapped presents beneath it, glittering under the soft glow of twinkling lights.

“Mama! ‘Toru! Look! Presents!!” she squeals, bouncing on her toes, so full of excitement that Satoru half-expects her to rocket straight into the air.

He leans lazily against the doorframe, watching her with an amused grin. This kid… she was like a wound-up toy, running purely on joy and Christmas spirit. It tugged at something in him—a place he didn’t even realize had been empty until now.

“How does she have this much energy so early in the morning?” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder just as you appeared behind him.

You looked impossibly cozy—wrapped in your pajamas, your hair tousled from sleep. In your hands were two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which you handed to him without a word.

“She’s almost three,” you say simply, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “And it’s Christmas. Welcome to parenthood. This is her prime time.”

“Prime time for chaos,” he quips, taking a careful sip of his coffee.

He shoots Haru a mock-suspicious glance as she darts around the tree—tiny hands hovering over the presents like she’s trying to decide where to start.

“You sure Santa didn’t slip her a double espresso in her stocking?”

Your laugh is quiet and warm, the kind that made the corners of his mouth tug upward instinctively, and he couldn’t help but think how ridiculously domestic this all felt—Haru bouncing by the tree, you standing beside him with that soft, sleepy glow.

It was almost unsettling how much he liked it… how much he cherished it.

His gaze shifts back to Haru, who was now crouched in front of the tree, examining the tags on the presents like a tiny detective—a kind of joy so radiant it made something tighten in Satoru’s chest.

It hit him then—here he was, watching Haru’s eyes light up with the same wonder he never got to feel growing up. His Christmases had always been all flash and no magic. Gilded parties, perfectly wrapped gifts that lacked thought, and a cold sort of extravagance that filled rooms but never hearts.

But this?

This was different. Seeing Haru’s excitement now felt like reclaiming something he didn’t even know he’d lost.

“Mama! ‘Toru!” Haru’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts as she holds up a box triumphantly. “Look! Look! For me!”

“Man, Santa really outdid himself this year,” Satoru drawls, stretching an arms over his head as he plops onto the couch beside you.

He made a show of sipping his coffee like he hadn’t been the one painstakingly arranging the presents under the tree just hours earlier.

You’d handed him ribbons to tie, smirking as he fumbled with the tape, and rolled your eyes as he huffed about how ‘unnecessarily complicated’ wrapping paper was.

And then there’d been the cookies and hot chocolate Haru had left out for Santa, which he devoured with exaggerated flair. You’d caught him red-handed, crumbs still on his face, and he grinned sheepishly, muttering something about how Santa worked hard and deserved a snack.

It had been... nice. Warm. Like stepping into a life he always thought was meant for other people, not him.

But Haru?

She didn’t care about Satoru’s epiphanies. She was too busy shredding wrapping paper like her life depended on it.

The morning quickly descended into a delightful chaos—a whirlwind of torn ribbons, squeals of delight, and an ever-growing pile of toys. Haru didn’t just open her gifts; she paraded each one around the room like a prized trophy.

A dollhouse, a pink fluffy stuffed bear (that was for you, right?), and a set of art supplies. Every present came with an enthusiastic ‘Mama, look!’, making you laugh while Satoru grinned like an idiot.

And his attention… well, it kept drifting back to you.

The way you tucked your legs beneath yourself on the couch, leaning slightly into his shoulder as you sipped your coffee. The way your eyes softened whenever Haru ran to you, clutching another gift—her excitement bubbling over.

The way the light from the tree caught in your hair, making you look like you belonged in this moment… more than anything else ever had.

“Mama, look!” Haru gasps yet again, holding up a small box wrapped in gold paper. “Santa didn’t forget you!”

You blink, momentarily startled, as she thrusts the box into your hands before darting back to the tree—already rummaging for her next gift with boundless energy. Your gaze, however, shifts toward Satoru, narrowing with playful suspicion.

“Oh really?” you arch an eyebrow, grinning.

Satoru scratches the back of his head, feigning nonchalance even as a smug grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t look at me,” he shrugs. “That’s between you and Santa. Guy’s always been a softie for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention to the package, peeling back the carefully wrapped paper to reveal a small rosewood box.

The craftsmanship immediately catches your eye—with rich, dark wood, smooth to the touch. Two turtle doves are etched with breathtaking detail across the lid—wings entwined in a delicate dance of devotion. As you trace the design with your fingertips, the doves seem to almost flutter underneath—a stunning work of art.

And as you lift the lid, your breath hitches.

Nestled inside is the platinum heart-shaped locket, glinting under the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Encircling the heart is a delicate band of diamonds, each stone catching light like tiny frozen stars. And there, at the center of the locket’s face, is that infinity emblem you know so well—etched with graceful precision.

Your breath catches—your chest tightening as you carefully lift the locket from its velvet cradle. The weight of it is delicate yet grounding in your palm.

“Satoru…” you murmur in awe.

Beside you, he nudges your shoulder gently—his grin softening into something quieter, something more vulnerable.

“Open it.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp, and the locket falls open, revealing the secret it holds.

On one side was the photo he’d snapped of the two of you in the town square—you laughing, your cheeks pink from the cold, while he pressed a kiss to your cheek with that obnoxiously smug grin.

On the other side was another photo—one you hadn’t even known he’d taken—a candid shot of you and Haru in the kitchen, flour dusting your nose as you helped her decorate cookies.

Your smiles were radiant, unguarded, and completely at ease.

For a moment, you just stare, your lips parting slightly as you tried to form words. Satoru leans closer, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder.

“You said… infinity reminded you of me,” he says quietly. “So… I thought maybe this could remind you of us.”

Your eyes lift to meet his, shimmering with an emotion so raw and overwhelming it makes him hold his breath. Then, without a word, you reach up, cup his face with both hands, and kiss him.

It’s soft, deliberate, and unhurried—the kind of kiss that makes him feel like maybe the universe doesn’t have to be so vast and infinite. Not when it can be filled with moments like this.

Before he can fully bask in the moment, Haru’s delighted squeal cuts through the air like a firework.

“Mama! Look! A big one!”

Satoru turns to see her tiny hands tugging at a large, carefully wrapped box partially hidden behind the tree. She tries to drag it forward, but honestly the box is way bigger than her.

You laugh softly, already stepping up from your seat to guide her hands away.

“Oh… that one’s not for you, sweetheart. It’s for Satoru.”

Satoru blinks, caught off guard. For him?

He doesn’t even have time to process it before Haru’s face twists into the most dramatic pout he’s ever seen—complete with trembling lips and misty eyes. She crosses her arms like she’s about to stage a sit-in protest right then and there.

“What? No fair!”

Satoru chuckles, setting his coffee mug aside as he pushes himself up from the couch with an exaggerated groan.

“Alright, alright,” he ruffles Haru’s hair as he crouches beside her. “How about this? You help me open it, and I’ll share whatever’s inside. Deal?”

Haru’s pout vanishes like snow in the sun, replaced by a radiant grin as she nods enthusiastically.

“Okay!”

With Haru leading the charge, they attack the wrapping paper like a two-person wrecking crew. Satoru makes a big show of struggling with the ribbon, grunting and pretending to pull with all his strength. Haru giggles at his theatrics, and finally, the last shred of paper falls away.

As the box opens, Satoru stills.

Inside is a telescope—sleek and polished to perfection. His hand trails over the smooth surface, and suddenly he was eight years old again, lying on his back in the garden with a telescope propped on the grass, mapping constellations under a vast, endless sky.

But then, his eyes widen as his fingers brush across something etched on its side. Engraved with precision, is the constellation Lyra—the harp.

Satoru knows enough about stars to understand its meaning. Lyra represents love, devotion, and music. It’s the constellation of Orpheus and Eurydice—a love story as infinite as the stars themselves.

For a long moment, all he can do is stare, his thumb brushing lightly over the engraving as if to ground himself. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until your voice pulls him back.

“You recognize it?” you ask softly.

He glances up at you, the grin on his face softening into something quieter, something real.

“Mhmm... It’s Lyra.”

You step closer, the faintest hint of nerves in the way you tug at the hem of your pajama sleeve.

“I thought… I thought you’d like an upgrade…” you say shyly, “You love the stars, and I thought you deserved something that made you feel… closer to them.”

Satoru’s throat tightens, and he can’t speak right away, but before he even has the chance to, Haru tugs at his sleeve impatiently, breaking the moment.

“What is it? What is it?” she demands, eyes wide with curiosity.

Satoru lets out a breathless laugh, pulling her onto his lap as he turns the telescope slightly so she can see.

“This, my little star, is how we can see the sky up close. The stars, the moon, even planets if we’re lucky.”

Her eyes widen. “The stars? I wanna see the stars ‘toru!”

“Okay, princess. Tonight, I’ll show you the whole sky.”

“Yay!!” Haru gleams, bouncing on his lap.

Satoru chuckles, steadying her with one arm, but as Haru chatters away, his gaze drifts back to you.

You’re standing quietly a few steps away, watching the scene unfold with that soft, knowing smile that always makes his heart trip over itself. The glow of the Christmas tree casts a faint halo around you, and for a moment, Satoru wonders how he ever existed without this—without you.

Wordlessly, he tilts his head, beckoning you closer. When you step forward, his free arm slips around your waist, pulling you gently down to sit next to him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then finally your lips—slow, unhurried, and laced with everything he can’t quite put into words.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

It’s not just for the telescope. It’s for this moment, for this morning, for you. Your fingers trail softly over his cheek, and he swears you’re glowing.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru…” you murmur quietly.

“Merry Christmas… sweetheart.”

There’s a warmth in your eyes that feels like home, and for the first time in his life, he understands what it means to be content.

This—this moment, this family, this love—it’s everything. It’s infinite.

And as the three of you sit there, bathed in the glow of the Christmas tree, Satoru realizes something he’s never dared to believe.

He finally belongs.

a/n. i got in my feels writing this. as someone who struggles around the holidays, this was real cathartic to write. hope you guys have an incredible holiday season with the ones you love—thanks for reading, sending hugs! ♡

taglist:

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @acowboykisser @mikyapixie @rosso-seta

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christiancj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg

@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @illianasa @pinksaiyans @gojoslefttoenail

[sgiandubh]

Accommodation latergram

Posted three hours ago by the IG account of the Hotel Timila in Pātan (Kathmandu), Nepal:

The Taliban corner immediately found out. Of course.

Here is the video, too:

The lady's question is almost swallowed by the usual breakfast noises (plates & cutlery, basically), so I could catch just the end of her rant: 'how was your stay here, in Nepal?'

S: 'It's been incredible, my first time... he [Jake Norton - JN]'s been here many times, but for me, yeah, an incredible experience, people are so friendly, food is amazing and this hotel [gestures towards the reception sign] is my favorite, the suite's so nice...

Reception Lady: 'Did you like your stay here?'

S: 'We did, we started here before we went on our trek, we felt like home and coming back was really nice, we had the suite, really nice [unsure of the last bit, however, as the sound is really, really bad].

Reception Lady: 'Do you have any recommendation [thick accent, unsure of transcript] about your stay, or for our team, here?'

S: 'I'll say thank you to all the team, they were so welcoming, especially you aaand... we'll come back, yeah? [chuckles, motions towards JN]'

JN: 'Oh gosh, yeah, 'twas... I was many, many times to Nepal, over thirty-plus years and it was certainly one of the top, if not the top trip, seeing new parts of the country for me, but Timila [the hotel] is always like...like home, so yeah, it feels... and you guys do just an amazing job of welcoming people, making them feel like it's a home away from home so... [Reception Lady: 'thank you so much, guys'] ...thank you!'

The Timila Hotel is a family-owned heritage property in the heart of Kathmandu, by the way. Having traveled a bit all over Asia myself, that means 'mid-range accommodation with a soul'. I am glad S could experience that unique, always thoughtful hospitality and not the luxury hotel chains' cookie-cut smiles and wai greetings. The reviews on Booking.com are probably honestly reflecting that, at a whooping 9.4/10 average satisfaction:

79 USD/night is peanuts, even for Nepal. The most expensive available option (Patan Square) in the Pātan area of Kathmandu is about 130 USD/night right now and an unbelievable (must be a mistake, somewhere) rate of 4200 USD/night for a suite with balcony at the Bodhiz Tusal Hotel (which has horrendous reviews, so it begs the question).

S's suite (the only one in the hotel) is the usual hill station Anglo-Indian style I am personally very fond of, with the mandatory little touch of local, endearing kitsch:

But the terrace is, indeed, gloriously huge. Trust this blogger, that is a remarkable bonus:

Back to the video snippet, I just saw two very tired men who just longed to get home in time for Xmas with their respective families. Which I think is the case by now, since the hotel released it. And no, I do not care a bit if he opened a baby bottle of SS whisky when he reached his destination - he is certainly not the first trekker/entrepreneur to indulge in product placement. Plus there was enough double entendre in that reel to quench the thirst of all the corners of this fandom and allow for endless discussions skirmishes. I know what I heard, too 😉.

Gracias a ti, siempre 😘😘😘.

[please-destroy]

Legacy

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + Family

Word Count: 1.7k

You can definitely read this on its own. Or it can follow on from the last few stories I've posted.

.

You heard the front door slam and winced automatically. Every day seemed to hold another fight between your daughter and your wife.

When Natasha had told you she was picking your daughter up from school, you’d bitten your tongue. You heard the raised voices in the hallway and sighed slowly.

You braced yourself as you rose to join. This didn’t feel like much of a family these days. You felt like more of a peacekeeper than a parent or a partner.

You paused behind the closed door when you heard your daughter yell.

You tried to click pieces into place before you joined them. Something about her hair and her choice.

You heard the low murmur of Natasha’s voice. She always went quiet in fights with your daughter. Some legacy of her past that still made her wary of the impact of raising her voice, of losing her temper entirely.

You couldn’t hear her words but her anger was unmistakable. You opened the door hurriedly. Two pairs of eyes landed on you at once.

Your daughter rushed to get the first word in, as if you were the judge and jury of this argument.

‘I already bought the stuff.’ She told you determinedly. Her fingers gripped her backpack fiercely.

You caught Natasha’s desperate look at you and sighed quietly. Whatever was going on, you knew Natasha was silently asking for your support for a reason.

You tilted your head at your daughter and waited for more information. You hated playing this balancing act.

‘I’m going to dye my hair blue’. Your daughter continued. Her brown eyes flashed suddenly with something that was entirely Natasha.

‘No you’re not.’ Natasha interrupted suddenly from beside you. Her arms moved to cross in front of her. Sometimes, the two of them reminded you more of sisters than mother and child.

There was a pause. You saw the look on your daughter’s face and realised she was trying to prepare herself for her next words. You cringed in anticipation.

‘I know you had blue hair.’ Your daughter accused Natasha abruptly.

The air left the room as you both froze. Your eyes scanned Natasha’s immediately. You hadn’t known that, but you could tell immediately that it was true. Natasha blinked back her obvious shock. You resisted putting an arm around her shoulders. You didn’t want to take sides, but you felt the ache of Natasha’s past like an old wound.

‘I saw the pictures.’ Your daughter added, her arms moving to cross themselves, just like Natasha’s.

An acutely vulnerable and threatened look crossed Natasha’s features. Her eyes were unseeing as more emotions rolled through her. You tensed nervously. She looked murderous. A line had been crossed.

‘Those pictures are private.’ Natasha said in a low voice. A shiver ran down your spine at the sound. ‘You had no right - ’.

‘I’m your kid.’ Your daughter interrupted, her voice rising higher with hysteria. She blinked away her tears angrily.

‘Where are those pictures now?’ Natasha’s voice stayed a growl. You found yourself stepping forward. It was too late to keep the peace, but you felt the situation slipping closer to words that couldn’t be unsaid.

Your hand brushed your daughter’s shoulder.

‘Hey.’ You called calmly and your daughter’s eyes flickered warily up to you. ‘We can talk about dyeing your hair later. Get your mom’s pictures.’

‘No.’

Your jaw clenched in frustration, you took a deep breath. You felt the oncoming explosion, you didn’t know if you could stop it.

You felt Natasha seethe obviously. You loved her well enough to sense how hard she was working to stay cool. You didn’t know the context of the pictures, you were certain of their importance to her. 

‘Give them back to me.’ Natasha said one more time, and you knew it was the last warning.

‘I get to have some pieces of you.’ Your daughter declared suddenly. Her voice was wavering obviously, the angry tears still stained her cheeks.

‘You don’t get to have that piece.’ Natasha shook her head fervently. ‘Give me back my fucking photos.’

‘Fuck you.’ Your daughter retaliated, and the words fell out her mouth like she’d been waiting to say it.

Something hardened in Natasha as the words landed, you watched her try and ignore it.

‘Pictures.’ You iterated again, firmly. Your voice stayed level. You knew the unbearable tension couldn’t release from Natasha until she had them back.

You didn’t realise there was more your daughter might say. Her fingers fumbled with the front zipper on her backpack, she rummaged inside and produced a single strip of photos. Your eyes clung to the produced glossy strip of paper as she threw it in the air and floated to the ground.

There were two girls in the pictures and your heart twisted in further understanding. You noted the bright blue hair that caught the eye easily. 

Natasha snatched the photos so fast, they hadn’t even reached the ground. You should have anticipated her next move. Your daughter certainly didn’t. Natasha plucked out the box of hair dye from inside her open backpack in one smooth motion. 

The outrage in your daughter’s face would have been comical if it didn’t make you so nervous.

‘Fuck you.’ She said again and this time the words came out in a desperately controlled voice. She’d pitched it lower and you wondered if she knew she was imitating her mother.

‘You never wanted me.’ She accused Natasha now, voice cracking. Tears started streaming down her face again as the deeper hurt was exposed.

‘We both know I’m not even yours. Now, you won’t even fucking let me look like you.’

Natasha sagged immediately with the weight of your daughter’s words. You saw the horror and shock weave through her furrowed brows. Her mouth fell open.

Your daughter didn’t see any of it.

She crumpled down to the ground in a motion that ached with familiarity. For a moment, you remembered those first moments of her learning to walk. The strongest part of that memory was Natasha’s smile when your daughter had chosen to stumble clumsily over to her.

You didn’t need to look at Natasha to know she’d felt the words like a sucker punch. You crouched down next to your daughter. 

‘You are and have always been the best thing in both of our lives.’ You told her quietly. Your daughter didn’t stop crying. Her arms circled her knees. 

Natasha moved closer, hesitancy laced her movements and you could feel the nerves emanating from her. This was everything she’d ever been scared of. You felt her anticipating more rejection from the person who could hurt her most. Your hand moved to brush the back of her nearest leg soothingly. 

‘Your mom loves you completely.’ You said simply and your daughter’s chin tilted reluctantly towards you. She shook her head disbelievingly. You saw the deep insecurity and wished desperately to remove it.

‘I always thought I might have children.’ You continued carefully, trying to decide what you could share as you spoke. ‘But, for your Mom, that wasn’t even a dream she was allowed to have.’

Your daughter’s face twisted as she tried to process the words. Her eyes flickered uncertainly up at Natasha. You followed her gaze and caught Natasha’s ashy expression. She was still caught, waiting for more rejection.

‘Do you understand?’ You pressed softly, and your free hand reached out to your daughter’s knee. ‘You are better than she could have ever dreamed.’ 

You felt Natasha kneel down beside you too, she took the hand you’d had on her leg and held it in hers. Your fingers interlaced automatically and, when she squeezed it, you felt the cool of her wedding ring against your warm palm.

‘Not to mention, you are already so alike. It’s ridiculous.’ You added, letting your tone get lighter. Somehow, just having them sit closer to each other, reassured you.

Natasha outstretched her free hand, with the previous photos purposefully on display to your daughter.

‘You see that other girl?’ She murmured. Her eyes caught yours intermittently, seeking reassurances You squeezed her hand and gave her a careful smile. 

Your daughter nodded, silent with the expectation that this was important.

‘She’s my family.’ Natasha stumbled. ‘Or the closest I ever had to it.’ She corrected embarrassedly. She took a shaky breath before continuing. 

‘And, that’s why you’re named Yelena. After her.’ 

Yelena stared back at Natasha, surprise and curiosity entirely replacing her earlier hurt.

‘Where is she now?’ She asked immediately, her voice hoarse from crying.

‘I don’t know. But I love her. You remind me of her every day.’ Natasha answered simply.

I know I’m not your Mom, not biologically.’ Natasha’s eyes met yours and you saw a longing in them that you never wanted to see again.

‘But I want to be.’ She admitted softly.

Your daughter’s hand reached out for her mother’s. Things settled inside your heart, a heaviness lifted from the air.

‘Maybe.’ Yelena started, face filling with a small smile. ‘Maybe I could dye my hair red instead.’

Natasha regarded her with a new softness, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards too. They understood each other so much better than they thought. 

You rolled your eyes as you got back to your feet, pulling the pair of them up along with you.

‘Just what I need. Double the trouble.’ You teased, barely able to keep a straight face as Natasha swatted at your arm halfheartedly.

Yelena grinned up at you. Her hand slipped out of yours as she moved to wrap her arms around Natasha’s waist. Her head buried against Natasha’s front. Your daughter was growing up, but she was still so young. 

The tentative tenderness in Natasha’s answering hug was more precious than you could ever explain. Her hand slipped out of yours too as she moved to rub light circles on Yelena’s back.

‘I’m really sorry.’ Yelena mumbled.

‘I know.’ Natasha soothed and she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair. 

Yelena moved back a little and you watched her head tilt up as she regarded Natasha. Natasha smiled familiarly back.

‘Whatever colour you want. I’ll help you dye it.’ Natasha promised her quietly. ‘But, you’re already my daughter. You always have been.'

‘I’m yours.’ Yelena affirmed as her rested back against her mother. Natasha’s lips brushed her hair as she held her tight against her.

The world had finally righted itself and you found yourself sighing in relief.

[lexirosewrites]

This has been in my brain for a HOT MINUTE so it will b long

A!Eddie & Corroded Coffin didn't make it in the rock n roll world, the band certainly tried but they all found tht it wasn't the fulfilling kind of work they wanted or needed. So one by one they all ended up moving away from California some of them went back to the midwest.

B!Gareth left first, he'd found a passion for teaching after taking on a few tutoring jobs to pay the bills so after a lot of talking he went back to school in Indianapolis where he could b near family. A!Freak went as far as they could without needing a passport & moved to NYC where they built a fulfilling & even successful career in the Broadway circuit as a musician. Jeff & Eddie ended up leaving together, even staying together as roommates briefly in Portland bc going back to the midwest felt almost like giving up completely but when Jeff's dad passed away he went home to Indiana for the funeral & just didn't come back, Eddie wasn't resentful abt it he was even ecstatic for A!Jeff when he got a call a half a yr later where Jeff told him he'd moved to Chicago & found work w the USPS tht gave him time to volunteer in an after school program teaching guitar. Eddie stayed in Portland working in a mechanic shop till Gareth invited all of them to watch him walk the stage to accept his teaching degree.

It was a touching reunion for everyone & after a lot of drinks Eddie admitted he hated Portland & admired how Gareth & Jeff were shaping the minds of tomorrow & was proud of Freak for the career they'd built in NYC. In the end, Eddie ended up hopping around the couches of his bandmates in their different places in the country till he found work he enjoyed in Chicago as a line cook & he volunteered w Jeff till slowly but surely Eddie became a go to guy for the program to call & then a yr later the director of the program said she was recommending him to a teaching position at the fancy after school youth art institute her friend ran. Jeff had turned down the position when she'd asked bc the pay wasn't much better & he enjoyed his work w the USPS

Eddie gets a job at this youth art institute & he thrives. He still volunteers & through his efforts the art institute expands their scholarship program. He meets one of the ballet instructors, B!Chrissy, & they're fast friends even platonic soulmates some would say. When Eddie introduces Chrissy to Jeff at Eddie's birthday party in late June he was very unsubtle abt his matchmaking intentions & he was vindicated when they admit to him tht they're dating not even a month later.

When August arrives Chrissy starts talking abt preparing for auditions for The Chicago Ballets annual production of The Nutcracker, apparently the institute got to bring a number of students to audition for the roles reserved for children or teens along w other ballet schools of the city. The students of the ballet classes become even more serious in their lessons, many of them signing up for the one on one lessons offered specifically to prepare for the auditions. Eddie's favorite guitar student, O!Max, was best friends w 2 ballet students (B!El & A!Lucas) in a way tht was clearly developing into a romance btwn the 3 & so the one on one lessons he taught her became mostly her practicing chords while raving abt how hard the 2 were working, tht Lucas' dream was to one day b cast as the cavalier who dances w the sugar plum fairy & tht El hopes to one day b cast as the dew drop in the Waltz of the Flowers.

Two days before auditions the ballet students of the institute get visited by members of the Chicago Ballet Troupe. The youngest get to meet & interact w the dancers cast in roles that'll directly interact w them should they b cast. The teens get the most exciting visitors is the consensus Eddie picks up on, apparently it is somewhat tradition for the dancers cast as The Snow Queen, The Dew Drop, The Sugar Plum Cavalier & The Sugar Plum Fairy to visit w the teens. Chrissy gets a glint in her eye when she insists Eddie come along w them to dinner after classes because her friend from dance school is one of the cast members visiting the teens.

He walks into the restaurant, is led by Chrissy to the table practically overflowing w tall athletic bodies, & promptly plopped into the only remaining seat next to the most gorgeous male omega Eddie has ever laid his eyes on. Chrissy introduces him as Steve Buckley, the first male omega to b cast as The Sugar Plum Fairy in literally any major production of The Nutcracker put on by a major troupe. Eddie knows his eyes get gooey especially when he catches the briefest whiff of the sugar sweet scent tht resembles baked apples when Steve leans closer to hear him better over the noise of the restaurant.

A lot happens after auditions & during production, El is cast as one of the snowflakes & Lucas is cast as a party goer & toy soldier but he impressed the production team so well he was given the position of understudy to The Sigar Plum Cavalier. Steve & Eddie grow closer till they finally kiss after the final curtain of the annual production. Chrissy & Jeff move in together & after Chrissy gets pregnant Eddie is asked to b one of the witnesses when they go to the courthouse to register their bonding. Steve takes over for chrissy when she goes on maternity leave.

Four years later steddie have also bonded & Steve gives a final performance of The Nutcracker before retirement, he was honored to b cast as Sugar Plum one more time & to b there w Lucas as he debuted as not only an official dancer w the Chicago Ballet Troupe but as The Sugar Plum Cavalier. Steve would have stayed longer as a dancer but he wanted to b a mother & Ballet doesn't give much allowance for a dancer to b pregnant. So Steve takes the offer of a teaching job w the same youth art institute where chrissy & his mate work & steddie move to the same Chicago suburb as chrissy/Jeff when they officially begin trying for a baby

Joan Riot Munson is born at exactly noon the following year on the first day of the annual production of The Chicago Ballet's Nutcracker 🥰🩰

we love an omegaverse ballet AU!!!💕

(this is the last ask i have in my inbox for slick sunday, but if i see any come in while i’m out, i’ll try to answer and post!)

[ateliersss]

The Huntress

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: It's the first time you and your mate go on a hunt after your pregnancy. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Mild Smut, English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.412 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ I wanted to post this yesterday already, but I got a little distracted as something terrible happened last night in my city.

⇨ The long awaited hunting trip is finally here! I apologize for the long wait, but a writing slump is the most horrible thing for a writer.

"Oh, come on, my little star. Say Mama." You pouted down at the pup in your arms. "Ma-ma."

Toyah, who seemed to be displeased that you had your hair in an updo and therefore couldn't touch your soft and shiny strands, wasn't listening to you in the slightest and instead reached up to your head with grabby hands.

"Mama, Toyah. It's Mama. Ma-ma." You tried again, but except for whine, you got nothing back from him.

A rumbling sound that could only be your mate's laugh caused you to look up with a displeased look. Mi'ytiar came closer to you until he felt Toyah's wiggling form press against his stomach and securely placed his hands in the dip of your bare waist, looking fondly down at the both of you.

"Yawne, he will not talk. Not for a while." He grunted, his thumb stroking your soft skin. "Took Akail one year."

"I know that. I just want to finally hear his voice, hear him talk." You sighed. "Remember when Akail started speaking?" You asked him with a starry look in your eyes as you looked up at your mate.

Akail as a toddler in itself had been chaotic, a whirlwind in his parents' lives, but Akail as a toddler who had just learned the ability to speak? It was mostly loud nonsense, but you found it endearing nevertheless. Every now and then, you could understand a "Mama" and, after some time, even a "Papa". You were mostly fond of the times when he would sit on your chest, hands on your cheeks, and he would just start chirping with the occasional "Mama" in between his words. That had been his version of informing about his day.

Mi'ytiar grunted in acknowledgment and his hand left your waist to reach up to pet his son's head. He had grown in the last three months, albeit only slightly. His skin had grown in intensity just as his eyes. His teeth were now tiny little spikes and the tusks of his mandibles had gotten sharper. The rest had stayed just the same. But his personality had grown as well. Like his older brother at that age — fast on his tiny legs, a combination of crawling and unsteady stumbling on his feet — he loved to explore his environment. Once, you had found him sitting outside with the Hell Hounds, even though you had put him to bed five minutes earlier. You didn't know how he had managed that and you had to hide your grin when you scolded him.

"Go?" Mi'ytiar asked with a purr and you let out a hum in agreement.

Your mate and you had planned this trip for a while now. You had been sick of it, doing nothing but lazing around in your nest with your pup as your companion to bridge the time while your mate was busy with leader business and your eldest doing his own duties. Mi'ytiar's overprotectiveness had reached new heights and you were barely allowed to leave the nest to go to the bathroom to relieve yourself without him hot on your heels. To his credit, you only needed one intake of air in one certain way for him to suggest the hunting trip before you could start your rant.

Now, you were dressed in your hunting attire similar to the one your mate was sporting. A metal chest-plate was sitting on a layer of leather that covered your body like a top but kept your arms and midriff free. The metal of the loincloth hugged your lower body like panties did while a cloth that was attached to it covered your backside, going from one hip to your other and was triangular in shape.

Everything was tailor-made, though it had been altered from time to time. The beautiful design, the carvings and the feminine touch hadn't changed at all, but your pregnancies had taken a remarkable toll on your body, with your breasts growing bigger and your hips wider.

The only thing that stayed the same was the wrist gauntlet adorning your right forearm. It wrapped around your arm, beginning at your wrist and ending near the crook, so you weren't restricted in bending it. You had a matching forearm vambrace on your other arm, though this one was merely armor. The gauntlet was a petite little thing and your preferred choice of weapon. It looked like any other gauntlet the Yautja used, though it was modified significantly. You only needed it to hunt, so most of the usual functions were removed.

Mi'ytiar placed a hand on the nape of your neck and guided you through the door and out of your home. After a short growl, the Hell Hounds stayed put. They had excitedly greeted you with wagging tails but now let themselves dejectedly sink on the floor again to lie on their stomachs.

The walk to the docking platforms for their ships was calm, though you sometimes cooed back at Toyah in answer who had started to babble. Here and there, you stopped for a few minutes because some of his people had to inform their leader about this or ask him about that, but you didn't pay them any mind. You only did when a Female approached you to take a look at your pup and you presented him to her like a proud cat mother would with her kitten. The Female chirped at him and complimented his development. You would have spent hours chatting with her and about what a precious boy your pup was if not for your mate to gently stir you away.

You stopped again at the ship that was readied for your departure under the watchful eye of Akail. You never understood why they needed to make such a spectacle out of it. You would only go hunting for a few hours.

"Akail." Mi'ytiar addressed his son who turned around to greet his father properly, hands on each other's forearms and forehead pressed together.

"My little warrior." You chimed in. "Are you excited about your alone-time with your little mei'hswei?"

Akail bristled before he let out a grunt you would label as a "Yes." It was more than you would have received from him two months ago. Your eldest still had some resentment towards your youngest, but the murderous glint had disappeared from his eyes since your little talk a while ago. It took him baby steps, but steps nonetheless towards a better relationship. Toyah was oblivious to his brother's displeasure about his short existence and behaved like he always did with his family, with happy shrieks and grabby hands.

There had been this one moment where you had coincidentally stumbled upon Akail holding Toyah in his arms, pointing towards one of the skulls on the walls of your home, showing him their father's trophies. Toyah, of course, didn't understand one word but was simply happy to be near his brother. You had to quickly compose yourself and walked backwards to not disrupt this wonderful moment. It was like there was a conflict inside Akail that told him to continue disliking his brother for what he did to you, but after your talk, there was a voice that told him to try, as hard as it might be.

You smiled up at Akail and handed Toyah over into his arms. He gingerly took him — you had to bite your lip to not comment on how he suddenly knew how to professionally hold the pup as if he had done it before — and looked down at his little brother in disdain.

Grinning to yourself, you continued, "I already fed him, but if he should be hungry again, go to Zakui. She also knows how to change him. Right now, he is still full of energy, so I would suggest bringing him to T'ihtuial who watches some pups of other Females when they're too busy. He will tire himself out on his own. And should he actually grow tired, then put him in his crib and turn the small light on. Oh, and don't stop keeping an eye on him." You said and watched him to see if he understood. "Don't. Let. Him. Out. Of. Your. Eyesight." You empathized every word because you knew Toyah would find a way. He was determined like that. "He seems to like being anywhere but where you want him to be."

After another grunt, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on Toyah's cheek and another on Akail's forehead after he leaned down for you. "Bye, my boys. Be nice to each other and behave, alright?"

"Bye, Mama." Akail rumbled while Toyah only gurgled a laugh.

With a smile, you turned around and met Mi'ytiar halfways who placed a hand on your lower back, his scales rough on your soft skin. Together you entered the ship through the ramp and he wasted no time starting the engines and taking off.

Thanks to the autopilot, making the ship fly to its destination on its own, you could easily make yourself comfortable on Mi'ytiar's lap. You talked, exchanged sweet nothings, and snuggled with each other. It had been quite some time since it had just been the two of you and without any of your pups. The only time you did have your togetherness was once in a blue moon at night when everyone was asleep. Well, when most were asleep because most certainly didn't include Toyah who, like his brother in his toddler stage, needed to spend even the nightly hours with you. It was exhausting, but thankfully, the only downside of pups at his age.

"Where are we going, my love?" You asked him after a while of playing with his fingers, stroking his knuckles and massaging his palm.

"Yiulk." He answered with a soothing rumble of his chest, showing just how relaxed he was after God knows how long it had been since the last time it happened. "You remember? You hunted Wikki before carrying Toyah. You really good at it, yawne. Very proud." He purred and fondled your nape, his claws playing with the tiny hairs that had already loosened from your updo.

You smiled with a soft blush dusting your cheeks, mumbling "Charmer." before sitting up with your knees on his knees and your arms snaking around his head to hold the back of it. "Makes me want to give you one more. Right here, right now." You purred seductively, twirling one of his dreads around your pointer finger.

Mi'ytiar was about to reply, but the nav started beeping and signaled your arrival. Turning around in his lap, you could see the bright green-colored forest planet that was Yiulk. There were no humanoid beings living on the surface, only animals ready to be hunted. There were over a hundred species living there, both predator and prey, and you loved the various difficulty levels those species offered. Some were as simple as a sloth and some a little harder like a cheetah. And they were so fascinating, you loved to stay back and watch them, study them. If you had the equipment — a camera, paper, a typewriter — you would write a factual book where each and every one of them had their own double-page.

You readied yourself for the landing and quickly exited the ship with Mi'ytiar in tow. You were greeted by a wall of trees, standing so close to each other, it was a miracle he found a landing spot so easily. You took a deep intake of air and were immediately hit by the sweet aroma that emitted from the trees around you. Mi'ytiar had told you about them on your first hunt on Yiulk and he had seemed rather amused by your amazement, which was no surprise because Earth had looked so dull to you for a very long time.

The ground was soft as you took measured steps forward and through the jumble of trunks. Your eyes were fixed on the dark, earthy forest floor as you scanned it for traces of whatever animals you would find first. The environment was ideal for Shuxxi. The air was humid, the trees were covered with their preferred moss, and if you stopped in your tracks and pricked up your ears, you could hear the sounds of splashing water. Your best guess was to follow whatever source it was coming from as Shuxxi loved swimming and deep waterholes were rare on Yiulk.

You continued on your way, slowly and quietly.

While your mate preferred the chase, you put your strength into stealth. Rather than barreling towards the prey, you stayed back and observed their behavior, even killed from a distance. And although Mi'ytiar's fingers were already itching, he held himself back when you climbed up the large rocks that had emerged behind the trees after walking quite a distance. You slowly crawled up and to the edge until you had an overlook over the area to where you had tracked your prey.

You smiled at your success as your gaze wandered over the small herd, from one to the other. They were pretty for something that looked like a mix of deer and sheep. You could at least discern seven of them, a male and six females, all of them nibbling on the bluish moss growing on the trees around the clearing.

You looked down at your wrist gauntlet and skimmed through the different projectiles. You chose your favorite one — spike-like arrows of razor-sharp metal that were the size of an unused pencil and as thick as your pointer finger. You lifted your arm to aim at the one standing the farthest away from you. You enjoyed challenging yourself again and again when you were hunting a species that was already familiar to you.

And for today, you had chosen easy prey, so it wasn't that challenging. They were child's play, but something to gain back the mobility and stamina you had lost during your pregnancy and bed rest after giving birth.

You were about to pull the trigger, your aim secure on the grazing animal, when you felt a warm breath fanning against the side of your head and a hand on the back of your thigh slowly traveling up under the cloth attached to the loin cloth. You wiggled your hips and tried to throw him off, but when you only got a deep rumbling back — a laugh, probably — you shot him an angry "Mi'ytiar!" through gritted teeth.

"Distraction. Typical in environment like this. Need to get feel for it." He only grumbled against your ear.

His body was now pressed to yours, practically lying half on top of you, with his face nuzzled into your nape. You could feel him tug on your tied-up hair until it was hanging loosely down your head and he could bury his face into it, inhaling your scent. His hand snaked around your waist and to your stomach, pulling you back into him.

"Concentrate."

You tried, but your arm had gotten a little shaky as well as your focus.

"Mi'ytiar." You said slowly, warningly, when you felt his hand dipping lower.

"Shoot, yawne." He growled into your hair and started to rut against your thigh.

You let out a growl of your own, used the only part of your brain that was still able to work logically and took your shot. Your prey dropped dead when your arrow pierced its eye, killing it instantly, and spooked the rest of the herd that soon took off.

You rolled to the side and away from Mi'ytiar's rutting hips. You gave him a mean look with glinting eyes before you climbed down the rock and quickly approached your prize. You looked it over. Maybe you could use the gorgeous black fur with red speckles as another cushion for your nest. You already had four of them, but another wouldn't hurt.

"You did good." You heard Mi'ytiar behind you.

You only needed to stand up and turn on your heel to find him looming right above you. You wanted to give him a little piece of mind after he almost made you miss your target, but he looked so deliciously feral right now that the words died on your tongue. His eyes were wild, his chest was heaving and the muscles of his chest and stomach were twitching and contracting. You wanted to jump him at this very moment.

"You know…" You purred and pressed yourself against him, dug your fingers into the flesh of his hips, and pushed him backwards against one of the nearby trees. "I believe this was one of the possible scenarios where we created our firstborn." You mused, your voice taking a lower pitch with every word. "Hunting, me killing something and then you fucking me against a tree, filling me up so much that your seed dripped down to my ass and on the dirty forest floor."

Mi'ytiar let out a roar, grabbed you by your shoulders, turned you both around, and pushed you against the tree trunk.

You groaned, but not because of pain. Whenever he would manhandle you, use his brute strength to put you in whatever position to his liking, it turned you on a little more and reduced you to nothing but the basic need of graving him buried in your depths.

Patience was never something for Mi'ytiar when you were the only thing on his mind and instead of going through the process of opening the buckles that connected your thigh-high boots to your loin cloth, he just ripped them apart and tore off the pieces of metal and leather that hid your dripping arousal. Your hands immediately flew to his own covers, disparately pulling and tearing on them to free the throbbing piece of muscle that must be hiding behind it, but Mi'ytiar gripped your wrist.

"No." He groaned and pulled your hands away.

"But-"

"No."

Mi'ytiar might crave you, but he didn't want to mate with you just yet. "Three months." Cahrein had said to refrain from mating with each other to let your body heal after birthing Toyah. Those months were already over, but he wanted to be careful. Your body was a treasure, so magnificent, so beautiful. He wanted to give you all the time you needed and more, no matter how tempting it was to see it nakedly sprawled across the furs of your nest.

You reached for his loin cloth again. You could at least please him with your mouth, feel his heavy manhood down your throat, taste his heady aroma, and get drunk on it. You were desperate for him and you wanted to feel him inside you, even if it wasn't in the way you wanted for months now.

But Mi'ytiar once more pulled your hands away from it and instead lowered himself down on his knees. He grabbed you by the thighs and hoisted you up against the tree until your pussy was on eye level with him, placing your legs on his shoulder until you were practically sitting on them.

You hissed when the tusks of his mandibles dug into the skin of your ass cheeks and pelvis as they clamped around you after opening them up. Your breath hitched when you felt his own hitting your already dripping and twitching folds, and your hand grabbed ahold of a few of his dreads, keeping you grounded both on his shoulders and in the moment.

"Mi'ytiar…" You mewled.

And Mi'ytiar immediately listened. The tip of his tongue darted out and gave your folds one, two, three licks before it circled around your pulsing clit. Greedily, he lapped at your leaking hole before he plunged his tongue into you, wasting no more time, and groaned when your sweet ambrosia filled his mouth.

Meanwhile, you were a quivering mess on top of his shoulder. With your one hand already seeking support by holding onto his dreads, your other hand had reached up and above your head to dig your nails into the bark of the tree. Your eyes had fallen close and your head had lolled back. Your thighs trapped his head between them and you used them to push him impossibly closer to where you needed him most. Your hips rocked against his mouth, seeking for more.

And Mi'ytiar was soaking everything up as he ate his fill. You looked stunning in this very moment. Your face was flushed, your mouth parted, lips glistening with salvia, and your eyes were squeezed shut with the occasional twitch of the eyelid. It all made him even hungrier and he started twisting his tongue.

"Oh my... ahhh, Mi'ytiar!" You moaned, dragging the last syllable of his name out into a long, high-pitched squeal.

When your grip on his dreads tightened before you pulled on them, he growled into you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation and making your back arch. His tongue drove deeper and the deeper he got, the thicker it stretched you out.

"Tanhì… I’m…"

You couldn't even finish your sentence. With a scream of his name, you came as your thighs tightened around his head. In the orgasmic bliss that hit you like a train, you faintly heard the pitiful whine Mi'ytiar groaned into your depths and, therefore, almost missed it. Luckily, you didn't and thus, you immediately knew. You could tell by the signs when you looked down through half-lidded eyes — his claws digging into your thighs, the jerky motions of his hips, the unsteady up-and-down movement of his chest from heavy breaths.

He'd just ejaculated from eating you out.

You didn't need to see the evidence dripping from his loin cloth covered crotch. You knew because it hadn't been the first time it happened. No, there was this one moment decades ago when Mi'ytiar and you slowly but surely got to know each other on an intimate level, step by step. You had explored your bodies and discovered the multiple aspects of mating together. For someone who had no lips and no mouth per se, he had made you cum harder than on the rare occasion when one of your former lovers reluctantly agreed to pleasure you with their tongue. And Mi'ytiar, who never had tasted the paradise between a Female's legs, came across the furs and blankets after your sweetness hit his taste buds mere seconds earlier.

"Tanhì…" You purred and placed your hands on either side of his head to pull him back a little.

He retracted the tusks of his mandibles where they had been digging into your skin, eliciting a hiss from you, and tugged them back to his face. You smiled softly down at him when he nuzzled his face into your belly, purring in content, and you put your hand on top of his head, your thumb stroking his forehead.

You couldn't wait until you would finally be able to truly mate with him again.

When you went back home — after hunting down the rest of the herd to bring food back to the clan — you were greeted by a grumpy-looking Akail who dropped his little brother into your arms when they reached out to greet him, wanting to hand back the responsibility to watch over the pup as soon as possible.

You had asked him if something happened and the only thing Akail said was that he had found the little parasite in the most impossible places, although he had just been put into his crib throughout the few hours their parents were gone. He had found him in your bedroom, in the bathroom, outside with the Hell Hounds once again, and crawling down the path to your home. There even had been a Male with little Toyah in his arms at the clan leader's abode, asking Akail what the hell the pup was doing at the landing platform next to one of the Scout Ships.

You actually considered strapping Toyah to your chest every hour the day had to offer at that moment.

You looked down at the pup resting in the crook of your arm. "You are a little troublemaker, hm, you little rascal? You made it so difficult for your big brother, didn't you? Put him through so much trouble." You cooed down at him.

You and Mi'ytiar started walking side by side, his hand securely placed on your waist. The ship you had used for your trip was taken care of and the hunted prey was being carried out of it to store it. Your mate offered nods to the Yautja of his clan who greeted the three of you on your way home, but his attention was rather occupied by you and his son who was babbling nonsense. Until…

"Ma!"

You stopped dead in your tracks and looked down at your pup with wide eyes.

He did, didn't he?

"My little star, what was that?" You asked, barely holding in the bursting happiness. "Can you say that again? Did you say Ma?"

Toyah was looking at you, beautiful yellow eyes partly closed from the — what you called, although it was pretty unlikely — smile. He was babbling more and more non-coherent stuff before another "Ma!" slipped from his mouth while he reached out to your face with grabby hands.

It may be just another random syllable mixed with the other typical chatter of a three-month-old pup, but to you, it was a win.

"Yes, Toyah, Ma! It's Ma! You are such a clever little boy, aren't you? My sweet and clever boy!" You praised the pup before you turned to Mi'ytiar with a smug grin while he looked down at you with what looked like an amused glint in his eyes. "That's two for me, my love."

He then watched you continue on your way home, listening to the receding exclamations of "Such a clever boy, my Toyah!" and "Already knowing how to say Ma!" and that familiar warmth bloomed inside his chest. It happened with every smile, every crinkling of your eyes, every caress of your soft hands on his skin, the sound of your voice.

He chose good, he chose right to have you as his Life Mate. Even without pups, you were an incredible enrichment to his life. The way you treated him, appreciated him, loved him, he could not have been luckier. And after you brought your two wonders into his world, it only confirmed his beliefs that you would be a great mother, too.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

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@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid, @zaky-ller, @chrishy973, @devilslittlehelper,

@freyablack90, @shadowstar123, @isntsocial

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt. 1

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: Wednesday transfers to Nevermore Academy and is your new roommate

a/n: I have decided that for a majority of the spells I'm just gonna take them from Harry Potter because I have a majority of those spells memorized lol (less work for me)

You're sat at your desk, studying a book about healing charms, while Enid is pacing back and forth through the center of the room.

Your dorm room was interesting. It is shaped like a short T, the entrance being where the lines cross. Each section has a big circular window that opens to a patio.

Your section, the section in the middle, is decorated with fake vines and string lights. Your night stand has a lantern on it next to your phone charger.

Enid's section matches her personality, bright and cheerful. She has tinted film over her window that illuminate her already colorful room.

The center of the room has a circular sunroof which Enid also managed to get the tint on.

"Enid, you're gonna burn a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that." You say without lifting your eyes away from your book.

"You heard what they say about her!" She stops pacing, looking at you with worry written on her face. "I really don't want to die in this school."

You look up from your book, making eye contact with Enid. "I don't think Principal Weems would allow a murderer into the school."

You stand to go comfort Enid, interrupted by the sound of people talking behind your dorm room.

As if they were waiting for the perfect moment to enter the room, the door opens, revealing a gothic family and Principal Weems. A girl with black hair braided on both sides of her head down past her shoulders stands between what you assume are her parents.

That must be our new roommate.

Enid turns around with a smile plastered on her face while you stand there idly.

Enid approaches Wednesday with new found excitement over the fact of getting a new roommate.

"Howdy roomie!" Enid exclaims, Wednesday stunned by her energy.

"Wednesday, this is Enid Sinclair." Principal Weems gestures her hand towards Enid before moving it to you. "And this is y/n y/l/n."

You stand where you are awkwardly, raising a hand in a wave.

Wednesday's eyesight lingers on you a little too long before she's interrupted.

"Are you okay? you look a little, pale." Enid says, her face shifting from excitement to worry.

"Wednesday always looks half dead." The man you assume to be Wednesday's dad answers for her.

Enid let's out a noise of acknowledgement before continuing.

"Welcome to Ophelia Hall!" Enid announces before opening her arms to embrace Wednesday.

Wednesday takes a step back to avoid her touch.

"Not a hugger, got it."

"Wednesday is allergic to color." The tall woman with dark hair says, her voice is naturally seductive.

You watch on, fidgeting with your foot. You assume it's exaggeration.

"Oh gosh, what happens to you?"

"I break out into hives and then the flesh peels off my bones." She has a very monotone voice, it's suits her dark aesthetic.

"Luckily, we've special ordered you a uniform." Your eyes slightly widen, focusing on Weems. She was serious?

You feel Wednesday's eyes on you for a moment, did you do something?

"Enid, y/n, take Wednesday to the registers office to pick it up along with a copy of her schedule." Principal Weems says looking at each of you.

"And give her a tour along the way."

Wednesday turns around, scowling at her parents before leaving the room. Enid skipping, following Wednesday out of the room with you taking a quick couple of steps to catch up.

-

"Nevermore was founded in 1791 to educate people like us. Outcasts, freaks, monsters. Fill in your favorite marginalized group here."

You're following along while Enid carries the tour, descending down a staircase.

"You can save the sanitized sales pitch, I don't plan on staying here long."

Enid stops walking, causing Wednesday to stop and turn to her. "Why not?"

"This was my parents idea." Wednesday looks towards a trophy case as she stares at a picture with her mother on the fencing team.

"Oh look, there's my mother smirking at me. They've been looking for any excuse to send me here. Its all apart of their nefarious yet completely obvious plan."

"What plan?" Enid says with a smirk, trying to pry out any information she can out of her new roommate.

Wednesday's eyes break from the trophy case to meet Enid's. "To turn me into a version of themselves."

"How would that turn you into a version of them? everyone's high school experience is different." You instantly regret saying, meeting your eyes to Wednesday's intimidating stare.

Enid elbows you, coughing to interrupt the awkward lul in the conversation. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Perhaps you could clear something up." Enid says while she continues the tour. You're just happy the attention is off you again.

"Rumor's been swirling around that you killed a student at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off." Enid looks at you for a moment before meeting Wednesdays gaze again.

Wednesday starts to walk past you both. "Actually it was two kids but who's counting?" You and Enid stop simultaneously, looking at each with wide eyes till you both catch up to Wednesday.

You all walk through some double doors to an open area. "Welcome to the Quad." Enid states putting her arms out to the side.

"It's a pentagon." Wednesday states flatly. You and Enid share a glance for a moment.

You and Xavier meet eye contact as he beckons you with his hand. You and Xavier have been friends for awhile, first bonding over silly conversation and his art after being assigned together for a group project.

"I'll be right back guys." You say before walking around on the cobblestone path, eventually meeting up to Xavier who is painting something on the wall.

"You looked like you were suffering, so I thought I'd drag you away for a second." Xavier smirks before continuing his painting.

"Wow you're such a life safer, my knight in shining armor." You say teasingly, putting the back of your hand on your forehead acting faint.

He makes eye contact with you with a slight smile at your performance before looking back to Wednesday.

"She's gorgeous." He says before meeting your eyes again.

"I know right!" You were about the push him, but you didn't want to mess up his painting.

Something you and Xavier bonded over was both of you finding woman attractive. Like you'd both agree, or argue, about celebrities and how pretty some of them are.

You see Ajax talking to Enid. "I should probably get back before Wednesday hates me and, I don't know, kills me in my sleep or something."

"Good luck." Xavier says, still distracted by his painting.

"Thanks, I hope I don't need it." You say before making your way back to Enid and Wednesday.

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation." Is the last thing you hear Wednesday say, making eye contact with you as you finally caught back up. She turns around and walks away.

"Was I gone for too long?" Enid makes eye contact with you before shaking her head and walking away.

-

The sun has set past the horizon, It's just you and Wednesday in the dorm. Wednesday just finished unpacking.

Enid is in Yoko's dorm, doing whatever they do.

Wednesday looks up from the center of the room, staring at the tinted sunroof.

You see Wednesday with her head angled upwards, contemplating her options to remove the tint.

"Do you want help?" You ask standing from your desk.

Wednesday lowers her eyes from the sun roof to you. "No, I can do just fine on my own."

You watch Wednesday skeem a few seconds longer until you pull out your wand.

You point your wand towards the sky roof, The sound of film being taking off glass filling the dorm as one of the tints slips of and falls gently towards your wand.

"You're a witch." Wednesday says bluntly.

You keep taking the tint off the different sections of the sun roof.

"Yeah, luckily. I've always really enjoyed magic so if you need something that can be solved with a spell just let me know." You give Wednesday a patient smile as she has a look on her face like she's considering what you said.

Enid opens the door, seeing the scene and proceeding to stomp into the room.

"What did you do to my room!"

You both turn your attention to Enid, annoyance in her eyes.

"Enid, she has an aller-"

You are cut off by Wednesday. "Making myself comfortable."

You see where this is going. deciding to not be in the crossfire, you decide to be in the safety of your section of the room.

You open your book back to where you left off studying with the sound of Wednesday and Enid bickering as your white noise.

Soon Enid starts blasting music.

"Turn it off." You hear Wednesday approaching the center of the room, and you can no longer focus on reading so you watch instead.

Enid shakes her head while dancing.

"This is your final warning." You grab your wand out of fear for your roommate, you keep it concealed unless needed.

"Rah!" Enid holds her hands up to Wednesday's face, claws extended from her fingernails.

"Don't mess with me! This kitty has claws and I'm not afraid to use them."

The door to the dorm suddenly opens, your carnivorous plants teacher and dorm mom, Marilyn Thornhill, on the other side carrying a black flower.

"Sorry for the interruption." Marilyn notices the tint all over the floor and the energy between Enid and Wednesday.

"Is this a bad time?" You go back to reading, every student has gone through this. You didn't need to live it again.

-

You're walking back from the bathroom to head back to class when you notice Wednesday walking by, there is a nick on her forehead.

"Hey Wednesday, heading to the nurses office?"

"Are you a mind reader as well?" Wednesday asks with what you assume is her version of sarcasm.

"Want me to heal it for you? your forehead I mean."

Wednesday stands there quietly, deciding her options.

"I'm not gonna make you owe me or anything I just, I don't know, I like helping." You look into Wednesday's eyes, she looks to the side before making her final decision.

"Okay, only if you don't demand anything in return." You smile towards Wednesday while pulling out your wand.

"Of course not."

You point your wand towards the cut on Wednesday's forehead.

"Episkey."

The wound on Wednesday's forehead closes itself, the blood leaving with it.

Wednesday is quiet for a moment.

"Thank you." Wednesday says in a slightly different tone than usual.

You hide the slight shock on your face. You never expected to hear her say words of gratitude, especially to you, her roommate.

"It's not a problem, honest. Do you want me to show you to where the nurses office is just in case I'm not there next time?" You smirk as Wednesday nods.

Wednesday tries to feel where the cut was on her forehead before you both hear a scrapping sound from above.

A gargoyle is falling off the roof above. It's spinning forwards, flipping over.

You take a step back, pointing your wand up.

"Reducto!"

There's a flash of light from your wand, the projectile hitting the falling gargoyle. The statue turning to dust before falling onto Wednesday.

When you look back down to see Wednesday you see Xavier behind her.

"Wednesday get down!" He shouts, tackling her to the ground. You take a big step back to avoid the tackle.

The remains of the gargoyle land softly on top of Wednesday and Xavier.

You look to make sure they're both okay.

Wednesday is unconscious.

Xavier looks up to you. "Cast a spell or something to heal her!"

"What? I just started learning healing charms there is no way I'm experienced enough to mess with head injuries."

You go to pick up Wednesday. "I'll take her to the nurses office."

You're about to start walking until Xavier takes her out of your hands.

"I'm the one that tackled her, I'll take her."

You're left standing there, grasping your wand in both of your hands, as Xavier leaves before you can fight back.

Part 2

Part 1 (Current)

a/n: I'm so happy part 1 is over. this was kinda annoying at times to write I'm just excited to get to the cooler parts B)

[zyhkoo]

🦢 daddy issues

hurt/comfort, gn!reader, father issues

( jason wanted to protect you from your father. )

Jason was not good at comfort, it’s not something he’s used to doing. What else can he say? He can’t reassure the person it’d be just fine, he can’t fix the problem, he doesn’t know if what he's saying was right so what was he supposed to do? The best he’d do is to try and humor the situation a bit, or just educate the person he’s trying to comfort.

But there was one person he’d tolerate comforting, it was you.

You had issues with your father, he used to have some with his too, maybe a little bit now. He could empathize with your pain a bit, knowing that he experienced the same thing. It was another night, and another end of a patrol. Jason was hopping through rooftops till he saw your figure in a random fire escape. Jason raised a brow under his helmet, didn’t your patrol ended an hour ago?

You sat silently, staring into the night below you, a sigh escaping from your lips. A quiet and somber look on your face. You seemed to be lost in thought, not even realizing that Jason was there. He could tell something was wrong, he debated if he should call out your name to get your attention, or just keep quiet and stand on silent lookout.

“Hey,” he called out, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the night. "Shouldn't you be home by now," he asked, tilting his head at you. You looked behind you as you only tiredly smiled, “Well, yeah.” you confirmed as you looked back in the horizon. “I just don’t feel like going home right now.” you tell him.

Jason studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask. “You don’t wanna go home?” Jason repeated, a hint of skepticism in his tone, “Why, did somethin’ happen?“

He leaned against the railing next to you, looking at you with concern. You looked down at your hands as you fiddled with them, “I forgot that there was a family gathering earlier, dad couldn’t find me in my room cause I was well.. patrolling so he said I can’t come home tonight.” you explained to him.

You sighed as you rubbed your face, “I can’t just tell him I’m a masked vigilante. I can’t just ignore my duty either.” Jason could see the exhaustion on your face, you looked tired, both physically and mentally. .

He shook his head slightly as he looked off into the distance. “This is the life you chose,” he reminded you, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “You can’t expect to have both. You either dedicate yourself to this, or you stick with your family.”

He paused for a moment, then spoke again, his tone a little gentler, “You gotta decide what’s more important.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here all night,” Jason stated gruffly, “You’ll freeze to death. You shook your head, “No, no, it’s okay I’ll just go to the manor.” you protested.

Jason let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Stop being stubborn and just come with me,” he said, his tone gruff. He grabbed your arm and started to drag you down the stairs, “Wayne Manor is too far. You’re coming with me tonight, no complaints.”

Jason led you in another apartment, he cracked open the window and gestured for you to come in first. You sighed in resignation and climbed through the window. Jason followed you, hopping through the window almost effortlessly.

You found yourself standing in what appeared to be a small, modest apartment. There was a small living area with a couch and TV, a little kitchen, and a small hallway that led to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was sparsely furnished, looking like it only had the essentials for someone to survive.

You gazed over to the display case. You couldn't help but stare at the assortment of weapons, knives, and guns that were displayed behind glass. They were all in perfect condition, each one looked like it had been cared for, like a collection of works of art.

"Impressive, right?" Jason remarked, leaning against the wall as he followed your gaze, “They are.” you answered him.

“Right, you want a drink? Let me get you juice or somethin’ while you remove your armor.” Jason gestured to the couch before making his way to the kitchen. He looked into the refrigerator, trying to find something he thought you'd like. He found a bottle of strawberry milk juice, grabbed two glasses before pouring some for you and himself. He returned to the living room, handing you a glass.

You chuckled to yourself, “You drink this?” Jason looked at you, a slight scowl on his face. "Shut up," he grumbled, taking a sip of his juice. "Steph left it.”

"Can’t let it go to waste though," he grumbled, "Besides, I needed something sweet tonight." He watched your figure as you drank your drink. Your feet were curled up on the couch and your armor was placed on his table. He could tell by your eyes that your mind was clouding from thoughts. “You still thinkin’ about your dad?” he asked, breaking the silence in the room.

Your thoughts snapped as you looked at him, “A bit.”Jason leaned back against the couch, studying you for a moment before speaking up again. "Don't let it get to you," he said, "Family problems… they're a pain in the ass to deal with." You buried your head in your knees, “I just feel like I’m never good enough for my dad. He’s always dissatisfied with me.”

He knew that feeling all too well.

"I can tell you from experience, you’ll never be good enough for some people, no matter how much you try." he said, his voice low and gruff, "And for some, nothing is gonna change their mind." He reached out and gently placed a hand on your back, rubbing it comfortingly. "But you know what? You shouldn't let that get to you," he continued, his grip tight on your shoulder, "You're your own person; you don't gotta prove anything to anyone.”

“Why?” you murmured. "I don’t know, ‘cause life’s short," he said, removing his hand from your back and running his fingers through his hair. "You don’t want to spend it trying to be someone else instead of being yourself."

You sighed, “I can’t just.. deny something my father wants me to do the most.” you said “He gave me a roof, food, things— why would I repay him back by disappointing him?”

"You don't owe him anything," he responded, his voice firm, "Just because he gave those things to you doesn't mean you owe him everything in return. He's your father; he's *supposed* to take care of you." Your eyes darted to his, “Isn’t that what children are supposed to do? Repay their parent’s sacrifices?”

Jason scoffed at your question, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No," he said firmly, "Parents are supposed to sacrifice for their kids. It’s their job. Children aren't obligated to return the favors their parents did for them. Parents don't sacrifice so their children will be indebted to them forever.” You lifted your head up at him, processing what he said. Jason looked at you and caught your gaze.

He studied your face, seeing the pain and confusion etched into your features. He knew the feeling, he knew the guilt and the burden that came with trying to live up to someone else’s expectations and sacrifices. You looked away, “Sorry, it was just a mindset I had for a long time.” you said. He reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice low and steady. "I get it. I’ve been there before, and I know how it feels." He felt a strange, unfamiliar instinct to protect you, to comfort you… to make sure you were alright. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. He took your half empty drink and placed in on the table. He set the empty glass aside and turned his attention back to you.

Jason could see the exhaustion in your eyes and the subtle slump in your shoulders. He knew you were tired, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. You tiredly smiled, “Is it obvious? He nodded and let out a little chuckle, "Yeah, it’s pretty obvious," he said, "You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Jason stands up, “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I got a spare shirt you can wear.” he said as he walked ahead.

Your eyes widen at his offer, you never thought he was the type to be that considerate.

"Are you sure?" you asked, following him as he led you towards the bedroom. He nodded in response, opening the door to his bedroom. The room was relatively clean, with a large bed in the center. He walked to the closet and started to search through it. After a moment, he found what he was looking for and pulled out a clean shirt. He handed it to you.

"You can change in the bathroom if you want," he said, gesturing to the small bathroom attached to his bedroom. You took the shirt from him and headed to the bathroom, changing out of your spandex. When you emerged, you found Jason sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you.

He looked up as you came out, his gaze sweeping over your figure in his shirt. It hung loose on you, the fabric soft and comfortable against your skin. He gestured for you to come closer. "Come here," he said, patting the space on the bed next to him. Jason reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"Don’t let your dad’s bullshit get to you, alright?" he said, his voice soft and low. You sighed, leaning on his shoulder “Thanks Jay.” Jason could feel the exhaustion seeping out of you as you leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. The feeling of protectiveness that he had felt earlier returned, stronger this time.

"Don’t mention it," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just get some rest, you’ll feel better in the morning." You lay down on the bed, the fabric of the sheets feeling cool and comforting against your exhausted body. Jason moved to pull the covers over you, making sure you were tucked in comfortably. He took a moment to study your face, seeing how weary and tired you looked.

Without thinking, Jason leaned in and pressed a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, he cleared his throat and looked away. He hoped you didn’t notice the blush rising to his cheeks. He quickly stood up, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "You should get some rest," he mumbled, looking at you with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You frowned, “Not gonna stay?” He was taken aback by your question, he wasn’t expecting you to ask him to stay. He was hoping you would’ve just fallen asleep. He scratched the back of his neck, looking away from your gaze.

"I don’t know... do you want me to stay?" he asked, his voice gruff. You softly huffed with a smile, “You already gave me a goodnight kiss. Why not?” He looked at you, meeting your gaze for a moment before answering. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled as he removed his jacket, revealing the skin tight black shirt underneath.

He slid into bed, lying down next to you. He kept his distance at first, but as you shifted closer to him, he instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side. He felt your warm body pressed against his, your head resting on his chest, your breathing steady and slow.

He couldn’t deny that this felt...good. Comforting, in a way he wasn’t used to. But as he lay there, holding you, his thoughts wandered to the implications of this situation. He knew you were friends, but there was something more to this, something he couldn’t ignore.

He cared for you, more than just a friend. And as he lay there in the darkness, with you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that he wanted more. Still, he knew better than to say anything. You were in a vulnerable state; he didn’t want to take advantage of that. He watched your face for a moment, the steady rise and fall of your breath indicating that you finally fell asleep.

The faint moonlight filtering through the window cast a soft glow over your face, illuminating your features in an ethereal way. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. He gently squeezed your body against his, holding you closer. The feeling of protecting you, of having you in his arms...

He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

🐇 hello everyone! i made a discord server! please make sure to reblog, let me know if you guys are interested in a part two.

[simpjaes]

i became a fan of enha in july. i found milf hunt fic wip in july. i have been waiting for this ever since i got into jay. u dont know what u just did for me. its crazy.

im just thinking of pregnant milf reader and jay as her new husband, loving her newer curves and bigger tits. just like when he used to let the neighbours assume more about his relationship with her, he does the same things. drinks coffee in the patio by the pool with a newspaper in hand. when they do shopping in their town, he has a hand on her hip as she walks, proudly showing off his employer turned wife. The rumours spread by the other women proved to be true, he is her husband. he pounds into her wet pussy every night, he drinks from her leaky tits. He fixes her fence, changes her light bulb, takes care of the little girl who calls him “dad”, he whispers to her swollen belly, builds the new baby a crib. buys matching clothes for their daughter and his child. he proudly shows off to the women he used to work for, that instead of boys his age struggling in tiny apartments with big boy jobs, he can stay lavishly finishing college with building a family checked off his list. his wife gets him to a big boy job too so she can rest with the upcoming birth.

he truly is the absolute trophy husband 🎀 our trophy husband

- noona anon

TROPHY HUSBAND IS THE EXACT. MAN. MH JAY IS!!!! you are also his trophy wife too tho.

me gushing about MH aftermath:

like, you make enough money to take care of him through college, even enough to take time off work during pregnancy etc, he would absolutely be the house husband while you're the money maker. I personally see him dropping out tho, ngl. Like living the full life of being a house husband, maybe getting paid to do odd jobs around the neighborhood like "ooooo can you fix my fence too Jay?" and "Ahhhhh, can you clean my pool like that?"

but ofc, it would still be classy wives tryna get his ass all sweaty and sexy for them to ogle at and he'd always come to you like "Babe, why do i feel like they're bitching me out?" and you'd probably snort, eating the craving food he's bought for your a million times by now like "Well, look at you."

You'd not be super jealous or toxic, even based on your history bc of who jay is, and how he treats you. He's cleaning some lonely wife's pool and he'll just talk about you every time she approaches him. like, example:

"Jayyyy, oh you cleaned it so well, would you like to come inside f-"

"yeah, my WIFE says I'm pretty good at this." and "haha, i should be getting home to my PREGNANT HOT SEXY WIFE"

[there's still the eventual option of him getting a big boy job, but for now i think his sole purpose in life that he wants to fulfill is being a dad. he'd not go back to school or get a big boy job until the kids are in school.]

He would definitely flaunt tho. He'd still likes the attention from other women of course, but for a different reason now, sometimes even seeing the women around town who did get to touch on him back before he landed you and always making damn sure they know what they're missing out on. Hand on your back, lovingly guiding you through the grocery store, kissing on you before you go to work in the morning. SUPER PDA from him. ABSOLUTELY on the porch with coffee like a fucking DAD too. that's the cutest fucking image omfg.

would throw BBQs, and you'd invite all of your friends and they'd snicker and whisper with you over how lucky you are to land such a hottie boy-toy. and you'd always correct them with a narrowed eye like "That's my husband, not a boy-toy" and he'd prove it every time ;-; making the best goddamn bbq in the city, playing with your kids and all the others, making all the ladies super jealous that their husbands are too "manly" to play dolls or dress up with the kids, or sword figh the little boys in a fuckin' tutu [bc jay would absolutely do that, wants to make all the kids have a good time when they're in his well-maintained yard]

Even more jealous that Jay does all the house work, cooks, cleans, parents, runs errands etc. he does everything they do for their own husbands, and MORE. The way you glow and flush when they ask about your sex life, phew, boy, they know Jay's gotta be a fuckin' maniac or something in bed.

NOT TO MENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you'd be so so so pregnant.... jay would just, like, constantly be so so horny.

always touching on you, always massaging the pain away and trying to contain his cock because he neeeeeeeeeeeds youuu. def sucks your tits every night, esp when you start lactating KJFHSDKJFDS and you're like "ewwww jay that's so gross" all playfully, but his mouth always soothes your sore tits, and he wouldn't care anyway. he loves his mama, fr. loves even more when she stops calling him "Jay" or "Jongseong" all the time and refers to him as daddy in bed.

whispers to your belly all the time, rubbing it, takes you to every doctor's appointment, buys you everything you need [albeit with your credit card lmfao] for real just drops EVERYTHING FOR YOU at any given moment.

And there is a part in the fic where he fantasizes about you waking up every morning filled with his warm cum. He'd do that too, pregnant or not. Condoms are a fucking NO-NO in this house [for now], at least until you've had a third, even then he'd have to get snipped or you'd go on birth control bc there is no way in hell he's not gonna at least pretend to constantly get you pregnant. Jay wants a big family, you only wanted 2. But you've come to the agreement that if you want to have at least one more pregnancy, he will still be here, and he will be doing all of the work outside of carrying the baby.

also, second child is a boy. imagine jay glowing just as much as you are when he finds out.

man, im so soft for him. this is a mess, i just choked out every single thought of milf hunt husband jay all in one go and like, there's more in this broken ass brain of mine too,

for instance, how he asks you to marry him, where you get married, how is family reacts, how your ex husband reacts, your daughter + jay interaction, the birth and him absolutely fainting in the delivery room, how his friends act when they find out what he's been doing etc

[mothandpidgeon]

Sing a Song of Sixpence (Joel Miller's Christmas Vacation)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

rating: G (fluff)

summary: Sarah requests a special trip over Christmas vacation. Joel does whatever it takes to make her wishes come true.

contents: fluff, 90s nostalgia, colonial america?

wc: 1.2k

a/n: Happy holidays to my Secret Santa, @whocaresstillthelouvre! Surprise but not really. Mallory, i knew we were going to be friends when you told me how much you love Colonial Williamsburg. I couldn't believe I found someone that overlapped in so many of my little niches. So when you told me that I was your secret Santa, I knew your fic was going to be about your favorite place. Thank you for being such a great friend, supporting me and my writing, and being my stoner buddy. I hope you enjoy your gift!

Thank you @schnarfer and @moonlitbirdie for giving this a once over! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Sarah clutches her doll as she skips down the red brick sidewalk.

Joel hadn’t realized just how expensive a toy could be until he shelled out the $86 to buy it. Sarah had begged and begged before he gave in and got it for her. “Felicity Doll” had been on every wish list, the American Girl catalogue left open on the kitchen table for two whole years. Sarah read and re-read not only the Felicity series but Addy, Kiersten, and Samantha, too, the paperback books creased and dog eared. This was no passing fad, not a fleeting interest, and so Joel saved up and surprised her with an American Girl doll of her very own for her birthday. 

She knew what was in the tall, rectangular box before she’d even unwrapped the damn thing, screeching and running around the living room in celebration. Sarah loved the doll, taking it everywhere with her, tucking it in bed beside her. Best money Joel had ever spent.

Except Felicity had a plethora of accessories and outfits, furniture and accouterments that all cost a handsome sum. More catalogues came, glossy pages with marker drawn circles around Felicity’s tea set and writing desk and pony. (“The doll has a pony?” “It’s in the books, Daddy!”) There were cookbooks and paper dolls and Sarah-sized colonial dresses that she desperately needed. It seemed that Joel was personally bankrolling the Pleasant Company.

And now he’d agreed to bring Sarah to Colonial Williamsburg. He really hadn’t had the heart to say no to her when she ask that they take a family trip there over winter break though he knew it would cost him an arm and a leg. 

“Wouldn’t you rather go to Disney World?” Tommy asked.

Joel shot him a look. Disney would’ve cost three times as much but it wasn’t about the money. He was proud of his little girl for being a bookworm, choosing museums and butter churns over roller coasters and Minnie Mouse. 

“It’s where Felicity’s from,” she insisted. 

Sarah leads Joel by the hand down Duke of Gloucester Street. The quaint little houses are all decorated for the season– around each doorway is an evergreen garlands accented with fat, red bows. There’s a chill in the air. He hadn’t considered the weather in Virginia when he’d planned this vacation. Sarah doesn’t seem to notice, excitedly pointing out the carolers on the corner and the horse drawn carriage conveying tourists down the sandy street. 

Sarah devours every little detail, listening with eyes like saucers as the interpreters dressed in old fashioned costumes drone on about milliners and beeswax candles. 

Joel’s mind just keeps slipping back to the fact that he and Tommy aren’t working right now. A whole week with no income.That’s going to hurt when the credit card bill comes in.

”D’you think they ever sniped a redcoat with one of those?” Tommy asks on a tour of the Governor’s Palace, nodding towards one of the many guns hanging on the ceiling.

Sarah shushes him.

”Hey,”Joel whispers to his brother. “Remind me when we’re back at the motel, I’ve got to call and get those tiles ordered for the duplex project.”

”C’mon man. You’re thinking about work now?” Tommy complains.

”Can’t lose another day. Order it now, it’ll be waiting for us when we’re back,” Joel explains. 

“Daddy! You’re not listening!” Sarah hisses.

“Sorry, babygirl,” he says, squeezing her hand in his.

He tries to pay attention, he really does. Joel’s never had much of a mind for history. Dates and places and stuffy old men. The buildings are interesting, at least. He amuses himself wondering what it would be like to build a house like they did in the olden days. A rough saw and a chisel and his bare hands. Like a pioneer on the homestead.

There’s a gift shop at the end of the tour. Of course. Joel lets out a sigh of resignation. Sarah knows better than to ask but she’s eyeing a tin whistle and a book about ghost sightings. 

“Pick one,” Joel offers, hoping she goes for the book. The last thing he needs is Tommy’s yammering and the squeal of Yankee Doodle for the rest of the trip.

Her brown eyes move between the two souvenirs, lips twisted in thought. 

“Shit. I’ll buy you both if your Dad’ll wear this,” Tommy says with a laugh. He’s holding up a little felt tricorn hat meant for elementary school kids.

”Really?” Sarah asks, all bright and giggling. 

Joel glowers.

Dinner is a fifteen dollar hamburger at one of the historical taverns. Sarah’s doll gets its own seat at the table, a paper napkin tucked into the collar of its dress. Joel’s able to pawn the hat off on Sarah but not before Tommy got a photo on his disposable camera. 

“That’s going on the fridge,” he chuckles. 

As Joel pays the bill (noting the price of Tommy’s three beers), there’s a rumble of drums. 

“What’s that?” Tommy asks, craning his neck towards the window. 

“The militia’s coming through,” the waitress says, clearing the dish from Sarah’s ice cream sundae (the historical accuracy of which is questionable). “They’ll march in for the fireworks.”

“Fireworks!” Sarah gasps. 

Joel sighs. He’s exhausted, out all day in the cold wrangling his brother and his daughter. His knees are aching and he’s ready to call it a day and go back to the motel. But Sarah is practically bouncing in her seat. 

Joel bundles himself up once again and the trio join the crowd that lines the street. A fife and drum corps in their scarlet uniforms march past followed by an officer on horseback. The sun has long set and the air nips at Joel’s throat. He wishes he had a scarf, could probably pick one up in yet another gift shop but it would surely cost a small fortune. He hopes these fireworks will be over soon so he can put his feet up. 

The little town looks quite festive in the night. Candles glow in every window and the street lamps cast a warm light over the tourists. A massive evergreen on the Palace Green twinkled with modern lights but it only adds to the atmosphere. 

Without warning, the first firework shoots into the sky, its bang makes Tommy jump. It bursts into a shower of silver. The other spectators cheer and more fireworks follow— red and blue, green and gold. 

Sarah’s gloved hand wraps around Joel’s. Her face is turned up to the sky, illuminated by the colorful fireworks. Her eyes round with wonder, sparkling pink and white from the cascade of sparks above. 

She’s having the time of her life. And she deserves it. Sarah’s a good kid. Polite, studious, thoughtful. Joel’s always been proud of her though he has no idea how she turned out so sweet considering he and Tommy have been the ones that raised her. This is what it’s all for, he reminds himself. The hard work and long hours, the never ending stress of bills for things he can’t afford. It’s all for her. 

She turns to find Joel watching her, his heart swollen in his chest. 

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says. She squeezes his hand and pulls her doll close to her chest.  

That thing was worth every penny. 

Happy holidays to everyone! Special shout out to the tent pitchers and all of my moots but also to anyone that's read my fics this year. Thank you for your support.

[its-hazzia]

Okay I need to spell out my thoughts about the Luigi Mangione stuff goin on

I am not at all convinced he did it. And not in a "no way he and I were hanging out that day at that time in Panama" way either, even though we totally were but that's besides the point.

So I've seen other people discuss how it doesn't make sense for someone who had thought out and executed a plan for the murder AND escape so flawlessly, only to be caught with all that incriminating evidence in-hand a week later at a McDonalds in another state, which is obviously kinda a huge deal, but I have further thoughts on what's going on.

So Luigi does indeed look like the Starbucks security footage, and it does seem that he had used a fake ID to stay in the hostel (assuming it was him in the hostel to begin with, and I only say this out of an assumption that the hostel verified the ID used and that we're not just taking the police's word for it, but it'd also just be easier for the police to be like "yeah he used his real actual ID and that's how we got him" so I'm fairly confident about a fake ID being used). We know that he had been missing for months ahead of time, and we know that he had been suffering from chronic back pain prior to a spinal surgery.

Why don't I think he did it? Well aside from the questionable legitimacy of the "evidence" he was found with, after that Starbucks photo came out, EVERYBODY was immediately like "that looks nothing like the shooter". Sure, you can add a change of clothes and people have pointed out that the unibrow can disappear on grainy footage, but from what else you can see of the face, it does not look the same. Once again you could chalk it up to poor image quality... but then how can you match an identity in the first place?? The NYPD have never come out with any good justification as to WHY they thought the guy on the starbucks camera was thought to be the shooter. It wasn't even the same damn jacket! In my opinion, in their frenzy to not look completely incompetent and catch The Guy, they were just throwing everything they could and were ready to go all-in on framing investigating Literally Anyone that could function as a reasonable scapegoat.

"But his profile and circumstances really line up to make it look like he was radicalized by his pain and Absconded to Do a Murder!"

While this is a good point on a surface level, I'm not convinced that it lines up the way this narrative is playing it, and I think the NYPD just got really lucky with this scapegoat.

"His Back Pain Radicalized Him": HE HAD HIS BACK SURGERY, AND MADE A FULL RECOVERY. He wasn't denied by his insurance - and according to a post he made on reddit, he was completely off pain meds a week after! All things considered, the insurance worked out pretty damn well for him! Oh yeah and HE HAD BLUE CROSS BLUE SHIELD

"Then Why Did He Go Missing?": Think about it. He was an upper class kid who had been crippled by back pain for a significant portion of what should have been his fun years. I don't think anyone has to stretch their imagination to think that maybe he'd fuck off somewhere on his own to reclaim that lost time? Just, source a fake ID so your family doesn't find you, hopping from town to town in budget-friendly accomodations and happening to be in NYC when A Guy gets shot (crazy). Sure, kind of a dick move to just not tell anyone what he was planning to do, but we don't know what his relationships with his family were like, nor do any of us know him personally as to what he would and wouldn't do, no matter how many news articles of what kind of guy he is come out.

So really, which is more likely:

The Adjuster was a guy that was radicalized after the healthcare system, under a different provider, worked for him, after which he planned out a meticulous murder + escape plan only to effectively give himself up a week later?

OR

The incompetent undewfunded and ovewwowked uwu NYPD was desperate to not look like complete fucking idiots regarding such a high profile case in their jurisdiction, but because they never learned how to do their fucking jobs wewe just sooo undewfunded and ovewwowked uwu they just threw a bunch of shit at the wall until something stuck and happened to get lucky that the guy they found happened to have been A) a missing person and B) Had A Serious Medical Thing At Some Point

[majoryeager104]

hiiii i 💗 how you write Touya !!! Could you pls write something where he introduces his s/o to his mom + siblings (like AU where he stays and enji is out of their lives and everyone is happy🤞)?? Just some fluff maybe him getting all embarrassed his s/o is a total sweetheart so rei absolutely adores them hehehe

oooomg I love these sm yes

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“Do you wanna meet my family?”

He said it so casually that you couldn’t help but stare. The two of you had been dating for months, and the way he asked you made it seem like it was no big deal, at least to him.

But unbeknownst to you, it was a big deal to him.

And so when you agreed, he gave you a quick smile and began making arrangements for you to come for dinner that weekend. He called Fuyumi, who would have been there anyways, and she was ecstatic. He texted Natsuo, who reluctantly (not really) agreed to show up. He knocked on Shoto’s door and told him that you were coming, to which he smiled because he thought you were cool. And lastly, he told his mom, who was just as excited as Fuyumi, but maybe a little more laid back about it. (Once again not really she was smiling about it for the rest of the day)

When Saturday came, the whole Todoroki family was in the kitchen working together and waiting for you two to show up. Even Natsuo was excited. He’d heard tons about you from Touya, so he already had a pretty good idea of what you’d be like, but seeing the rest of the family, especially Rei, so excited to meet you, he couldn’t help it if the same energy rubbed off on him.

Soon enough the doorbell rang, and Fuyumi was the first to get there, as per usual. “Hey you two! Welcome in!” She smiled, introducing herself to you with an excited glint in her eyes. Touya watched with a small, content smile as you all met each other. It was all the people he cared about- no, loved most, gathered around with big smiles on their faces. No wonder he was smiling too.

And Rei was totally blown away.

“so how’d the two of you meet?” She asked with her usual small smile

You answered with a smile as well. “um, we met at my favorite cafe”

Shoto butted in with a quick “isn’t that like a romance movie thing?”

To which Natsuo pulled him aside and said “absolutely but it happens in real life too.”

And Shoto nodded with that perplexed look for a moment before looking at Touya, who’d been standing in the background the whole time. “So do you love her then?”

Touya blushed. Natsuo facepalmed. Shoto stared blankly. Fuyumi giggled with you. Rei stayed quiet.

“Yes?? Obviously- I guess- I mean, I brought her over didn’t I?”

Touya babbled on, his face and ears getting more tinged with pink by the second. He stuttered off into silence, looking at you, you who was currently smiling at him with a blush crawling across your face as well.

Rei looked between the two of you and laughed. It wasn’t a common thing to see her so expressive, like Shoto she was a difficult person to read, and yet, she let down those walls of hers for this moment. Because it was sweet, she thought, and because she was really beginning to enjoy your company.

For the rest of the evening, while Touya told random stories of silly moments during your time together, you found yourself chatting with Rei more and more, her smile and mood only growing brighter the more she got to know you. You were sweet. Really sweet. You reminded her of herself when she was your age, always gentle and polite, and happy to do so. Unlike with her own relationships, knowing Touya she was sure he would keep that smile on your face.

As the hours past, and it got darker, you got up to head home. Everyone walked with you to say goodbye at the door, and Rei and Fuyumi both snuck a quick little hug from you, shuffling the rest of them out to give you a moment with Touya. Natsuo wiggled his eyebrows at Touya as he left, leaving Shoto confused at Touya’s current expression as he was dragged around the corner by his sister.

“so what’d you think?”

“they were great! And really sweet! I’m glad I got to meet your family”

“yeah..me too.”

Touya was quiet, leaning on the doorframe before taking your hand and walking you outside, kissing you goodnight as he walked you to your car, his hands in his pockets as he watched you drive away in the chill of the night.

“…love you”

he said it quietly, deep in thought as he watched you turn the corner, not realizing his mother was smiling at him from the doorway.

“Touya?”

she called him with her usual graceful tones, spooking him a bit as he turned to look at her.

“you should bring y/n around more often…i really like her”

Touya chuckled, walking in the door with her, a big smile plastered on his face.

“I will. Im sure she’d love that, too”

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Shoto my clueless icon 🙏🙏🙏

Also why do I always imagine Rei to be fucking ethereal (bc she is)

Kinda short and there’s not a crazy amount of dialogue but I hoped you liked it, I’ve been having trouble finding the inspo and energy to write lately, so I apologize.

Banner creds to artist! (If anyone recognizes the artist lmk)

[venic-bxtch]

For Jack Harlow wife threatens divorce after he said he would stop traveling so much when they got married but now he is barely in their child’s life because of work

ꕥHusband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader ꕥ

Tw: angst

The argument started small—just another one of those quiet, tense moments that had become all too familiar lately. Jack had come home late, barely in time to kiss your son goodnight, and you’d watched from the doorway as your little boy clung to him, his sleepy voice murmuring, “Don’t go again, Daddy.”

That had been the breaking point. After tucking your son into bed, you found Jack in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. The sight of him so oblivious made something inside you snap.

“Jack,” you said, your voice sharp enough to make him look up. “We need to talk.”

He set his phone down, already sensing the storm brewing. “What’s wrong?”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady even though the lump in your throat threatened to choke you. “What’s wrong is that our son barely knows his father anymore. What’s wrong is that you promised me things would change after we got married, but they haven’t.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, his eyes flickering with confusion—and maybe a little guilt. “What are you talking about? I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You’re here now,” you repeated bitterly. “But for how long? A day? Two? Before you’re off to another show or interview or god knows what else? Jack, you said you’d cut back. You said you’d prioritize us.”

“I am prioritizing us,” he said defensively, running a hand through his curls. “I’m doing this for us—for you and for him. To make sure we have everything we need.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jack, we don’t need more money or a bigger house or whatever else you think this is about. We need you. I need you, and our son needs you. But you’re barely here long enough to notice what’s going on in his life. Do you even know that he started saying full sentences last month? Or that he’s been scared of the dark lately?”

His face fell at that, and for a moment, you thought you’d gotten through to him. But then he sighed, his frustration clear as he ran both hands over his face. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to balance everything. It’s not as simple as just staying home.”

“No, you’re not trying,” you shot back, your voice rising. “You’re making a choice, Jack. And right now, you’re choosing work over your family.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone sharp now. “You knew who I was when you married me. You knew this was part of my life.”

“I married you because I loved you,” you said, your voice breaking. “Because I believed you when you said you wanted to build a life together. But this? This isn’t a life. It’s me raising our child alone while you chase your dreams, and I’m done pretending that’s okay.”

Jack stared at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes clouded with emotion. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if something doesn’t change, I can’t do this anymore,” you said, your heart breaking even as you said the words. “I won’t stay in a marriage where I feel like I’m the only one fighting for us. And I won’t let our son grow up feeling like he’s not enough to make you stay.”

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. Jack looked like you’d just punched him in the gut, his shoulders slumping as he processed what you’d said. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re threatening to leave me?”

“I don’t want to,” you admitted, tears streaming down your face now. “But I can’t keep living like this, Jack. I can’t keep watching our son miss you and pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Jack swallowed hard, his eyes glistening as he stepped closer to you. “I don’t want to lose you. Either of you.”

“Then prove it,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “Show me that we’re more than just an afterthought. Be the man and the father you promised you’d be.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the floor as he wrestled with his thoughts. When he finally looked up, there was a determination in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I’ve been neglecting what matters most. I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to miss out on our son’s life. I’ll make changes. I swear I will.”

You nodded, wiping at your tears but not quite ready to believe him yet. “I hope so, Jack. Because I can’t keep holding this together on my own.”

He reached out then, hesitating for a moment before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself lean into him, your head resting against his chest as his hand gently rubbed your back.

“I’ll fix this,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But for now, all you could do was wait and see if Jack would keep his promise.

Taglist: @tylerjeauxburreaux9 @iknowdatsrightbih @ikeepitlight @harlowcomehome @harlowsbby @blackynsupremacy @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses

[writerfae]

Christmas movie au Advent Calendar 🎄

Day Twenty-One: (☃️)Snow globe(☃️)

Christmas special tag list: @bunnymermaidsblog @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @ladywithalamp @sleepy-night-child @theguywithnonickname

After dinner, they sat cuddled up on the couch.

Aiden made himself a home in between Talon’s legs, head leaning against his chest and Talon’s arms securely wrapped around him.

Talon wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, freezing this moment in to put it in a snow globe and hold on to it forever.

It felt an awful lot like the calm before a storm and he pulled Aiden even closer to himself.

“What was Christmas like for you? Before your family stopped celebrating, I mean?” Aiden asked and Talon froze for a second.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to talk about it,” he added quietly, fingers drawing patterns near Talon’s collarbone as if to soothe him.

“No, I want to.” Talon gulped. “It’s just… it’s been so long…”

Yet he remembered it vividly, he just hadn’t allowed himself to think about it.

“When I was younger, Christmas was my highlight of the year. We usually spent it at my uncle Kieran’s house, because it was big enough to host such an event. And it really was an event. Most of my family was there, as well as my uncle’s friends.

There was a huge Christmas tree in the main hall and decoration everywhere and the largest table I had ever seen, filled with so much food us children thought it could feed a whole village.”

He chuckled.

“Uncle Kieran always hosted nice Christmas parties like this with music and buffet and a present exchange. It was a sight to behold and everyone had so much fun. I think you would’ve liked it. It was like in one of those Christmas movies.”

Talon’s hand found its way in Aiden’s hair as he kept talking.

“But what I always liked best was Christmas Eve before it, where it was just my parents, my sister, Kieran and me.

My mom would’ve prepared dinner and even got dad to help her with it and my uncle played with us children. He taught me a new Christmas song to play on either the violin or the guitar each year.”

He smiled fondly, lost in the memories. He had almost forgotten how he had loved the holiday.

“My sister and me had to play something on the instrument before we got our presents - my family was very traditional when it came to things like this. And then we got our presents.

My uncle always got me the things my dad would never have bought for me, no matter how much I begged him. Stuff like video games or action figures.

One year he gifted me a violin, way too valuable for a child my age, but he said that a professional needed a professional instrument.”

Talon’s father had been skeptical if this was a good present for a five year old, but Kieran had insisted.

He had his first own violin when he was even younger, he claimed.

“Talent needs to be supported,” he said, laying his hand on Talon’s head. “And Talon has plenty of talent.”

Talon wanted to be a musician back then, but that childhood dream had died with his uncle, probably even before.

After all, he’d inherit a family business.

“That sounds nice,” Aiden whispered, as if afraid that him speaking any louder would scare Talon away.

Talon nodded.

“He was. And with his present came a Christmas card. He wrote one for me every year, addressing it to “his favorite nephew”, until the very last Christmas we shared together before he…”

He fell silent.

“I still have all of them, in my apartment somewhere. I couldn’t bring myself to leave them behind when I moved out. It was always our little tradition.”

He hadn’t even noticed the single tear running down his cheek before Aiden shifted in his lap and leaned up to kiss it away.

“You must’ve really loved him. I’m sorry,” he cupped Talon’s cheek with a hand.

Talon leaned into it, closing his eyes.

“I did.” He opened them again to look at Aiden. “Thank you.”

His voice was barely about a whisper but they were so close Aiden understood it nonetheless.

He kissed him then.

Because he wanted to and Aiden was right here, in front of him, and life was too short to miss out on even the smallest chances he got to do it.

After a while, Aiden pulled away, taking Talon’s face in both of his hands and Talon almost started to tear up again just at the gentleness of this gesture.

“Your uncle and the Christmases you shared with him sound really great. I’m sorry that you lost all that. But I hope you’ll at least find your joy in Christmas again. I think your uncle would want it, too.”

He was probably right with that.

For so many years Talon had been busy pushing away all the negative feelings regarding his uncle and Christmas, that he didn’t notice that it kept out all the good feelings and memories he had, too.

All it took for him to achieve this clarity was to be sent into this little Christmas-loving town of all places.

That and the person in front of him.

Aiden had given him so much. He deserved to know the truth. Despite that knowledge weighing down on him, he smiled, putting his hands over Aiden’s.

“I did find it. Thanks to you.”

Aiden let go of Talon and leaned back, just looking at Talon.

“I’m glad,” he said then and smiled.

Shortly after, Aiden excused himself to go get them something to drink and Talon was left alone in the warm living room of Aiden’s house.

It was already cozy to begin with, but the Christmas decorations that were added recently gave the room a whole different charm.

Talon found it comfortable here, there was a feeling of warmth and safety in the air.

Like a magical aura surrounding the room.

Talon let his eyes wander through the room, taking it all in.

This here: this room, this house, the farm… Talon promised himself to find a way to protect it, no matter the prize he had to pay.

His gaze got stuck on something that sat on the mantelpiece of the huge fireplace, something he hadn’t noticed before.

He stood up to get to look at it from up closer.

It was a snow globe, he realized as he stood in front of the fireplace.

A very pretty snow globe, big and heavy enough that he needed both of his hands to be able to properly hold it.

Inside the snow globe was a little scenery:

Snow covering the floor and dusting the four Christmas trees in the background and before it a prettily decorated carriage loaded with a bag of presents, drawn by a single white horse and with no one less than Santa himself holding the reigns.

Next to Santa, a little girl with black curls sat in the carriage. Maybe she was supposed to be an elf or an angel, from the look of her it could’ve been both.

The pedestal the globe stood on was red with little handmade decorations in gold and green drawn on it. In the middle of it stood a name:

Ranva.

It was a pretty sight and as he slowly turned the little clockwork key on the back, gentle glistening snow was swirling around the globe.

He smiled to himself, carefully setting the snow globe down again.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Aiden’s voice asked close to his ear and Talon was glad he had put the snow globe down already, otherwise he would’ve most likely dropped it.

“Yes, very.” He turned to look at Aiden, who stood next to him, eying the snow globe fondly.

“It was my mother’s,” he said, reaching out and gently swiping his finger over the engraved name on the pedestal.

“She got it as a gift from her parents when she was little, cause the girl looked like her. It was one of the few things she took with her as she came here.”

He smiled.

“It was kind of our tradition, you know? Each year for Christmas she put the snow globe on the mantelpiece.

And each year on Christmas Eve she took it from its rightful place, sat down on the couch with it and let my brother and me cuddle up to her, telling us the story about a girl and how she got to help out Santa.“

A chuckle escaped his lips.

“It was the only time we were allowed to hold it, otherwise it had to remain where it was. My mom wasn’t really a strict mother but she took this one rule very serious.”

He sighed.

“The first two or so year after her death, we couldn’t put the snow globe up for Christmas, because father would freak out about it.

I put it in my room, once, because it made me feel like she was with us for Christmas, you know? But dad saw it and had a mental breakdown. I didn’t dare to put it back up ever since.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Talon said, grabbing Aiden’s hand.

Aiden squeezed their joined hands lightly, then he let go and used it to brush away the tears gathering in his eyes.

“It’s okay. The years after her death have been hard, but he’s better now. Now when he looks at it, he’s smiling, not crying. We have it up for the fifth year in a row this Christmas.”

“That’s nice.” Aiden smiled sadly. “It is…” He looked away.

“What is it?” Talon asked, making Aiden look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Aiden sighed, closing his eyes.

“I was just thinking about how this will probably be our last Christmas here.”

He opened his eyes to look at Talon and for the first time since they knew each other Talon wished those eyes wouldn’t look at him so directly, so he didn’t have to see the sadness in them.

And so that Aiden couldn’t see the guilt in his.

“What are you talking about?”

Stop lying, Talon scolded himself. You know exactly what he is talking about. You need to tell him.

“It’s senseless to keep up hope. We won’t be able to get enough money to save the farm, so we have to take the offer of these people.

Mr. Hawkins made a good offer, it will be enough to start a comfortable life someplace new but… it kills me to think about losing the farm. Not just not living or working here anymore, but it just being… gone.

Thinking about some stupid hotel or mall or whatever it is that they want to build here and that this town doesn’t need standing in its stead. Generations of family history lost…

I don’t want to be the one of my family who failed. I don’t want to be the reason father loses his whole legacy. Our legacy.”

His grip on Talon grew more desperate with every word and Talon’s heart broke at the same time as Aiden’s voice.

“He barely survived losing mom.”

Tears threatened to fall, but Aiden didn’t cry again. Didn’t allow himself too, probably.

Too strong for it.

Too proud.

“I don’t want him to lose the place that he made his home with her, too.”

Tell him, his mind screamed. You need to tell him.

Talon wasn’t as strong as Aiden, he did start to cry, silent tears falling from his face without his consent.

This was it then, the final moment. The one that would ruin everything.

But he couldn’t keep going like this, lying to Aiden about it all.

It would be selfish, dishonest, disrespectful.

It would be no basis for a relationship.

“I’m sorry, Aiden,” he said, grief tying up his throat. “I’m so so sorry.”

His reaction surprised Aiden so much that he let go of him.

“What’s wrong?”

Concern showed in his eyes, concern for Talon, even though it was Aiden who had all the worries.

And Talon was just about to cause him even more.

He didn’t deserve Aiden’s concern.

“Aiden, I-“ Talon took a deep breath.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

[zaim8778]

New Gotham Rouge

Okay, in Danny's defense, it sounds like a very good idea when he thought about it. Danny is currently laying on top of the clocktower looking at the smog filled sky. A few stars can be seen occasionally while he is staring and thinking about his decision.

When Danny is outed as Phantom. He ran away as his parents tried to capture and cut him open. He hid in a nearby cave for a few days as he thought of what to do when he suddenly had a brilliant idea. Let's fake his own death!

Danny stole a few parts and materials around Amity Park and made a makeshift bomb and rushed towards the GIW base. He freed all the ghosts and made a cinematic scene of exploding himself thus taking the whole building with him.

Danny also sends the ghost to set up a few bombs in his house after making sure Jazz, Sam and Tucker are not there. Just as he 'exploded' himself, the house also exploded destroying the portal and all the remaining research paper about anything ghost related.

Danny dove into the ground as the explosion distracted everyone and chose one direction to fly towards. A few hours later, he found himself in Gotham and surprisingly there is a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham. He flies around invisible while looking for a place to stay and he lands on the clocktower to rest after flying for so long.

Now, Danny doesn't know what he should do because he realizes one key component in staying alive for him. Obsession. Contrary to popular belief (Sam), his obsession is not protection. It is love. Love as in any act of love will fulfill his obsession. Him protecting his town is an act of love towards his town people. Him loving and studying space is an act of love towards himself. Him not taking revenge against his family and people that wrong him is an act of love towards humanity.

So, long story short, he needs to find a way to fulfill his obsession. He is laying on top of the clocktower and suddenly a very good idea comes into his mind.

A few weeks later

-Batcave-

Dick: Are you still searching for the glitter thief?

Tim: Yes. And it's driving me insane how little clue there is of this thief. I even tried asking Selina and even she is impressed by this thief's MO.

Steph: Are you sure you need to be stressing about this thief? It's probably a group of kids stealing glitters just because they can.

Tim: Are you telling me a group of kids can do a heist better than Selina? And this thief or group of thieves for some reason only stole biodegradable paint and glitters from all across the city without us finding where they store them? There must be something I am missing.

Suddenly, an alert appears at the batcomputer and catches everyone's attention. A live broadcast is showing Joker standing in front of a switch as Commissioner Gordon hanging from a rope on top of a pool of acid. Every single batfam suits up and rushes into Gotham to find the Joker before anything can happen.

Joker: Hahahaha. Good evening Gotham and Bats! Today, I have a dear friend of yours playing my game. In front of me is a switch to activate a time bomb that will explode a whole district if not dismantled. You have 20 minutes to dismantle the bomb and with every minute that passes, I will slowly lower the Commissioner into the pool of acid.

Joker then walks slowly towards the switch and flips it.

Joker: Your time starts now! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Batman and the crew rushes towards Gotham as they turn Gotham upside down for the bomb. 5 minutes passed and they become desperate enough that they even roped in some of the rogues like Penguin, Harley, Ivy and Croc. But no matter what they do, they can't find the bomb.

Just as the last minute passes, everyone expects a big explosion engulfing Gotham. Except there is no sound at all. In fact, it is eerily quiet. Everyone turns on Joker live broadcast to see even the man is confused. He turns around and sees Gordon having his feet inside the pool of acid like nothing is happening.

Suddenly a giggle appears. Everyone that hears the giggles starts to get goosebumps as suddenly, a kid with a half clown facemask at the bottom of his face, a green leather jacket, black jeans and white hair appears behind Joker. His hands are holding his stomach as his giggles turn into laughter that is eerily similar to Joker.

???:Hello everyone. I am Trickster. And I am here to crash the party.

Everyone: ????

Trickster: Hehehe, it's so funny to see everyone's confused expression. But no worries I am here to have fun. See, I even have your toys with me.

The Trickster phases his hand into his body and pulls out a very familiar brick. He throws it to Joker and the Joker runs away screaming and trips on his feet falling down the stairs.

The Trickster: Hahahahaha. Do you see his face? Hahaha. Oh boy, I should have recorded this. Hey this is a live stream right? Someone clip that. Anyway, I have defused the bomb. And the acid isn't actually acid. It's just colored water with a light beam at the bottom. I still can't believe he doesn't check the acid pool first.

The Trickster then goes towards Gordon and pulls him down from the rope. After Gordon touches the ground, he unties him and pats Gordon's shoulder.

Trickster: Well I guess this is good enough for the apology.

Gordon: Apology?

Trickster: *Rubbing his neck* Yeah, about that. I was the one that glitter bombed your office last week. I mistook your office for another corrupt policeman and accidentally placed it on your desk. I am also technically the cause of you getting caught today. In my defense, you shouldn't startle me like that.

Gordon: Wait, you're the kid that punched me.

Trickster: I'm not a kid. I'm 16. Plenty old if you ask me. Whatever, here is your phone. Go call Batman to pick you up. I want to go back to sleep after having fun tonight. Adios.

Gordon: Wait-

Trickster then disappears into thin air like he is never there in the first place. If not for his phone in his hand and later confirmation from everyone that watched the live stream, Gordon might have admitted himself into Arkham.

That is merely the start of the many incidents involving Gotham's newest rogue the Trickster.

[arandomao3user]

!TW: Fanon Batfam Content, Be Warned!

(Based off "Love Me For Who I Was" on Ao3, by Chara_Jame)

---

Jason: Bad day?

Tim, in the middle of setting a random sofa he found on the street on fire with a flamethrower: How could you tell?

---

Dick: I could never stay mad at you, baby bird.

Tim: That's weird.

Dick: Weird? How's it weird?

Tim: Because I could stay mad at you forever.

Dick:

Tim: For. Ev. Er.

Dick:

---

Damian: *Existing*

Bruce: Finally, a child who doesn't hate me!

Jason: I'm about to ruin this man's whole family life again.

---

Bruce: Jay, Lad, we had more than bad times.

Jason: Oh, I know. We had a lotta good times, a lot more good times, in fact, but y'know what?

Jason: YOU LOCKED TIM IN AN ASYLUM!

Tim: I still hear the lights buzzing when it gets to quiet...

Jason: You fired Dick for being SHOT!

Dick: Not your best moment.

Jason: I. Died.

Bruce:

Dick:

Jason:

Tim: It's like beetles going brrr--

---

Jason: Name one reason I should let you date my baby brother.

Tim: He's got a baseball bat!

Bernard: I got a baseball bat.

Jason: Is that supposed to convince me?

Tim: I already painted the baseball bat. I put dibs on him.

Jason: Not how relationships work, little red.

Tim: How would you know? You've never dated anyone.

Jason:

Tim: You died.

Bernard: Plus, I know karate.

Bernard: *Hand swishing movement*

Jason: Y'know what? Have fun. Don't get pregnant.

Tim: YES!

Bernard: Don't wha--

---