#it felt so different from the first season like

[street-smarts00]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with Spencer and you get his name for secret Santa. 

WC: 1.8k

Tags: Fluff, Secret Santa, friends to lovers, one use of Y/N I think A/N: Sorry I went MIA :( I got busy with school. I hope to push out many ideas while I’m on break tho. Here’s something cheesy and festive for the holiday season I hope you enjoy! (not beta read don't kill me)

Nothing was right. Nothing you found was the right present. 

This was your first secret Santa with the BAU and you picked Spencer's name out of penelope’s mug. At first you thought it would be easy to buy a present for him because you knew him so well. In almost a year of being with the BAU you grew the closest with Spencer. 

What you didn’t expect was your present ideas to not live up to your own expectations. Nothing you came up with could live up to your own standards. Of course your “slight” feelings for him definitely affected this, but you tried to tell yourself that wasn’t true. 

You ran through dozens of ideas. Clothing, a new scarf, tickets for a play, special edition of a book he loved. But nothing felt like the right present. 

You almost gave up in your search for the perfect present for him. The gift exchange was in less than a week and you still had nothing. Sitting at your desk in the bullpen you considered settling with one of your first ideas. 

While getting up to refill your coffee mug you noticed Spencer’s attention was focused on his computer. He sat there deep in thought with his brows furrowed and lips in a fine line. When you walked by his desk you saw he was playing an online chess game. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” you joked. 

He popped out of his focus from your presence. “I finished my files a little early,” he responded bashfully. 

“Are you at least winning?” 

He smirked, “I’ve won four times. But that’s not even the fun part. The fun is doing different plays every time and seeing what the computer comes up with as the best response.” 

That’s when it hit you. An idea for Spencer’s gift. 

Finally something that felt like a good gift for him. At the end of the day you rushed out of work to go to the craft store and get your supplies. You worked on the gift everyday after work. 

Soon the weekend rolled around and you found yourself at Rossi’s. His living room had the biggest Christmas tree you’d ever seen. Everyone’s gifts sat there for the evening. After dinner you all sat down to exchange gifts. 

“I want to go first!” Garcia exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and hurried to the tree to grab her gift for JJ. 

JJ excitedly opened the gift bag to find a small black and grey purse with a colorful crochet keychain. The idea that Garcia also handmade part of her gift gave you a sense of relief. 

“Oh this is so pretty. Thank you so much,” she beamed, admiring the bag and twirling the keychain. Garcia squealed in happiness before JJ offered a hug to her. 

JJ then handed over her gift to Rossi, a bottle of scotch. He smiled and thanked her for the bottle saying how his collection needed a new addition. 

He stood up and brought his hands together looking at the tree. “My turn.” He grabbed a thin box wrapped in silver sparkly wrapping paper and walked over to you. 

“For you, my dear,” he handed you the box. 

Your eyes widened and lips perked up at the gift. It may be a little silly but, part of you wished that you were Spencer’s secret santa. You reminded yourself that the possibility of you both picking each other's names was unlikely. The possibility of some things being the same between the two of you was … unlikely. 

You ripped back the paper to reveal a large eyeshadow pallet. Upon opening it, you saw an array of beautiful shades you couldn’t wait to try out. 

“Rossi, this is so sweet. I love it,” You thanked with a bright smile. 

Now it was your turn. Everyone’s eyes only made the moment more stressful. You got up and grabbed the box with a nervous hand. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too cheesy or corny? What if he thought it was useless as he already owned two of them?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you handed him the box, but they had no intention of leaving.

“Merry Christmas Spence,” you said softly.

When you turned and walked back to your seat you neglected to see the rising blush on his face. 

Spencer glanced down at the white and red striped paper. He carefully peeled it off and opened the lid to reveal a chess set nestled in between red tissue paper. The board spaces were off-white and royal purple with corresponding chess pieces the same colors. When he picked up the wooden pieces and saw small leaves and flowers painted on them. The King and Queen specifically had crowns in a shimmering gold. 

“Wow look at that,” Emily admired.

Upon further inspection he noticed the small human imperfections in the details. The way not one leaf or flower looked exactly the same. Or how the clear coating over the paint was slightly streaky in some spots. 

“Did you paint this?” He asked.

You nodded your head and answered , “Yeah I did.” 

A faint “awe” could be heard across the room from Garcia. 

“Y/N,” Spencer started, his voice full of admiration. “This is … beautiful.” 

The butterflies in your stomach were getting restless. 

“Really?” you asked, not able to hide the smile spreading on your face. 

“Yes! It’s Perfect,” his eyes sparkled at you. “I love it. Nobody’s ever given me something like this.” He beamed at you with a smile that made you love sick. 

The realization that you both were not alone set in and Spencer cleared his throat before closing the box. The gift exchange continued as Spencer handed over a present to Morgan. 

The rest of the night was filled with catching glances and far away looks between you and Spencer. He seemed to feel more relaxed in a way after receiving your gift. Not that he was acting any differently. He just seemed more open. With the group and with you. 

You lived off that feeling the whole evening. The idea that you made him happy. You helped him see he was appreciated and loved. 

Not that he had to know you loved him. 

He didn’t know that. Right? 

As the hands on the clock passed you announced your departure and said your goodbyes. You stepped outside and felt a chill against your skin. 

You held tight onto your keys as you walked to your car. The snow had just started to fall. Occasional little flurries fell down from the sky. 

“Wait!” Someone yelled from behind. 

You turned to find Spencer trying his best to run but not slip on the icy parts of the driveway. When he got closer you noticed his cheeks and the tip of his nose were pink. Probably from the cold weather you thought.

“I wanted to formally say thank you for the chess set,” he explained. 

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile. You stuffed your hands in your pockets away from the cold. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you’d find it cheesy.” 

He looked confused. “Why would I find it cheesy?” 

You shrugged, “because I hand painted it.”

“But that’s what makes it perfect,” he reassured. His voice is sincere and soft. “It’s personal and shows you care.”

His eyes widened. “Oh um-“ 

He suddenly remembered why he rushed outside and scrambled for something in his jacket pocket. It was a small cube shaped box wrapped in paper covered in snowflakes. Quite fitting for the weather.

“I know I technically wasn’t your secret Santa but I still wanted to get you something.”

You took the gift from him with a slack jaw. “Spence-“

“This isn’t because you were my secret Santa. I still wanted to get you a gift regardless,” he reassured. 

“I- Thank you,” you started unwrapping the gift. 

“It’s not homemade like yours but I hope you still like it.”

”It doesn’t have to be homemade for me to-“ the wind was stolen out of your lungs.  

The gift was a small gold and white music box you immediately recognized. You opened the lid to reveal a ballerina in a pink tutu spinning as Sleeping Beauty Waltz played. Your heart ached as you admired the tiny dancer.

”Is this the music box from that antique shop in Seattle?” 

While on a case in Seattle, you and Spencer went to an antique shop to ask the owner about evidence found at the crime scene that was purchased there. You fell in love with a beautiful music box in one of the aisles. 

“It is. I saw how you looked at it in the store and in the car you said it reminded you of when you used to do ballet. So before we left Seattle I went back to the store to get it for you. I thought it would make a great Christmas present.”

“But, that was three months ago.”

He sheepishly smiled and his cheeks only got more red. “Yeah, I had to keep it a secret for a while.”

Your heart rate started to pick up as the butterflies returned. “I can't believe you went back and bought this for me,” you muttered in disbelief. 

“Of course I would. You mean a lot to me and I knew this was something that would make you happy.” 

You admired the music box before carefully placing it in your purse. “Thank you so much. I love it.” 

His smile grew and reached his eyes. His eyes looked beautiful in this lighting. The Christmas lights from the house made them look practically golden. Even in the freezing cold you could melt from his eyes.

He shifted his weight and licked his lips. He seemed wrapped around the words in his head. “I also wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to go see The Nutcracker with me.” 

Your heart damn near stopped. 

“It’s playing at the theater downtown. I was thinking if we don’t get a case then we could go see the show on Friday. Maybe, if you want to, that is,” he rambled in nervousness. 

“I’d love to,” you beamed. 

His face brightened at your eagerness, but his nerves were still present. “But not as friends. As a date?” 

You chuckled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. I think the nutcracker is a perfect first date.”

“Great,” he said with relief. “And maybe afterwards we might have time for a game of chess with my new board.” 

God he was cute. 

“That sounds great.”

[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

[avelera]

I’m curious how you think Jayce and Viktor’s romantic/sexual relationship most likely unfolded within the context of the two Arcane seasons. Do you think it would have looked something like the trajectory from Distinguished Innovators or were they just pining for each other but entirely oblivious of the other person's feelings until the very end (especially with what you said at some point about the possibility of Mel being Jayce’s first)

Hmm, so there's fanfic and canon to consider here. I think with fanfic, it can be anything the author desires.

Technically, I think the most canon-accurate romantic read of what's happening on the page is that Jayce and Viktor have feelings for each other but neither is totally aware of their feelings until Jayce has his moment staring into the fire in 2.07 when he "chooses" Viktor. Then Jayce basically confesses during their big final scene and we get a lot of hints that Viktor has felt the same way or been silently and hopelessly pining for him and now they're finally together.

But that never quite works for me because it requires a little too much "carrying the idiot ball" like... these guys spent the entire time skip between 1.03-1.04 in close quarters at all hours of the day creating Hextech together. That's before Jayce becomes the "Man of Progress" or any of that stuff and was just a regular and possibly crazy researcher who almost got banished, so it can't always be a status difference. And Jayce is so affectionate, and he falls for Mel so quickly, I really truly struggle to imagine that with no barriers to a relationship (Runeterra canonically does not have homophobia) they wouldn't have gotten together sooner if something else wasn't in the way.

So, personally, I think that they've tried to or come very close to a relationship in the past, but something prevented them from going all the way and now it's that near-miss is still there in their physicality with one another, and both might still long for it, but one of them is holding it back from happening while the other just thinks it's hopeless and I honestly think after S2 it's Viktor holding back because of his declining health, while Jayce is the one thinking he hasn't got a shot so he might as well, tragically, look elsewhere.

And I'll go into a bit more detail on why I believe that for a romantic read of these two:

(Obviously you can just go the boring old "cuz they're not romantic" but I think that's dull and reductive and presumably not why anyone is the Jayvik tag)

I also don't totally buy the idea that they hadn't figured it out yet? These are two young men in their 20s, who basically instantly connect with one another, share everything, and are openly physically affectionate with each other from the first. In my fic Distinguished Innovators there's a certain amount of shyness and the fact they're just busy to deal with but they're still young men, it's why the fic postulates a physical relationship between them that isn't exclusive or official and thus doesn't change their status as "partners".

But in fics of mine like Parley I first floated another possibility that with time I find more convincing argument: Viktor knows he doesn't have long to live, so he's resolved to keep a certain distance from Jayce and not interfere with any sort of love life he might have (even if it destroys him with jealousy) because he doesn't want Jayce to be totally destroyed by his death, which given how openly affectionate Jayce is, seems inevitable.

This one works for me increasingly because it means the characters don't need to carry the idiot ball. Viktor can have his own strong reasons for not wanting to involve Jayce in that kind of relationship and Jayce can read that Viktor doesn't want to be involved with him in that way, and maybe they even got close and he was pushed back, and he's just respecting that now because he's just happy to have his soulmate in his life in any way he can have him (which I truly sincerely believe is a canonically supported read of Jayce no matter how romantic you see their relationship).

Then the tricky thing about a disease like that is... how much time does he actually have? If it's months, he should focus on leaving a legacy, which Viktor does. If it's years, in theory, they could work on a cure for him, but what if that doesn't work? Then you run into the tragedy of the longer he lives, the more he comes to regret not being with Jayce anyway. Then there's the question of a Hextech cure. I can see Viktor resolving to himself that if he's ever cured, then he'll confess to Jayce. Which feels all but impossible at the end of S1 when Sky dies, but then in 2.08, in the Council chamber scene, it really feels like Viktor finally feels like he's allowed to openly pursue Jayce because he's "perfect" now, and that to me is a linchpin of the idea that Viktor was holding himself back from pursuing Jayce openly because of his health.

Oh and I still think it's possible that Mel is Jayce's first as a result, or very near his first if him and Viktor maybe fooled around a bit or if Jayce had other relationships before that. But there is something very innocent in the way Jayce approaches sleeping with Mel that to me feels very much like he's had only a couple partners or fewer at the very least, if he hasn't been outright "saving himself for marriage" levels of hoping Viktor will notice him someday, which is my Jayvik romantic read of that moment he pauses before returning Mel's kiss, he's thinking, "Do I realistically have a shot with Viktor?" and concluding sadly that, no, he doesn't so he might as well stop denying himself a possible relationship over it anymore.

[manicmanuscription]

Solstice and Sorrow

Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 17427

Warnings: Extreme angst, toxic friends, dark thoughts, fluff, happy endings.

Summary: What will happen when Selena’s (OC) toxic friends poison her mind and make her doubt her worthiness of Azriel when she’s already struggling with intense flashbacks and PTSD during this Solstice season

─── ♡ ───

Selena usually loved the holidays. That feeling of contentment that thrummed in her chest when the air started getting colder, when the spiders, ghosts and pumpkins slowly started turning to wreaths and twinkling lights and she absolutely adored winter solstice. Selena loved sitting around a fire and chatting with her friends a whiskey or hot fudge in hand, she loved giving meaningful gifts to her family. Everything about the holiday was so special.

Yet this year was different. 

Azriel had been working on the continent for four months so far, which was…fine. It was fine. It wasn’t the first time he had been gone for so long. Selena had always done her best to manage. Throwing herself into her work  until her hands bled that she didn’t have time to think about the ache in her chest. It was harder this time though, not having him  here to cozy up with by the fire as snow fell, or to make gingerbread with their nephew. 

She had shoved that bittersweet feeling far down though, occasional loving tugs on the bond and the cold weather increasing the numbr of patients she dealt with all got her through the day. 

It wasn’t until she recieved written word that he would not be able return in time for Solstice that Selena had gotten really upset, her heart sinking. She had shut off the bond as soon as she had read Azriel’s letter so he wouldn’t feel her sadness and had ignored the twinge of guilt that passed over before she did. 

It was her favorite holiday and she wouldn’t be spending it with her mate, the love of her life. Selena had burst into tears right then and there. She was so exhausted these last few months, running suspiciously close to burnout and all she wanted was him. 

So of course after a few days of wallowing she went to her childhood friends, they had been begging to see her and drinking in their favorite bar to ignore her feelings sounded like the perfect way to spend her evening and for awhile, it was. The music was just right and the drinks poured faster than Selena could blink. But when she had explained to her friends why she felt so off, they had responed so weirdly. 

“Spending every second attached to his hip isn’t enough?”

“Girl..this is good for you! You need some time for yourself.”

“No..we don’t mean it like that just… I mean come on we haven’t seen you in months, and now your complaining about the person your -and no offense honey you know we love you- literally always with.”

“You know what we mean, like you’re always all over him- give the male some room to breathe!”

Selena had left after that, and with the alcohol numbing her she couldn’t feel the harsh cold nipping at her bare shoulders. Her friend’s words echoing in her head until they were the only thing she could focus on. She knew she was clingy, physical touch had always been her love language. It was a reminder that they were safe, that they were here with her, not only that but she loved touching Azriel. Loved holding his hand under the table and crawling into his lap on the couch. Tears welled up in her eyes as she distantly remembered comments from Azriel’s brother’s when he introduced her a few decades ago. They had been surprised at his…willingness to her.

“Who are you and what have you done with Azriel.”

“If you’re here I guess Lena isn’t far behind.”

“And he…let’s you do that?”

Her mind was a whirlwind of memories and voices all overlapping in her head, it made her drunken head spin even faster when suddenly the thought came up so fast from the darkest part’s of her it had her pausing in the middle of the snow covered street. 

What if she was somehow forcing herself on him?

What if he had been pretending he was fine with all her advances but in reality he hated them? What if for over a hundred years she had been making her mate deeply uncomfortable? 

She let out a strangled sob at the thought. Trying to force herself to be quiet lest she wake anyone up with her misery at this ungodly hour. She had always tried to be respectful, but she had gotten too comfortable and now-

Now she was making Azriel resent her. 

Selena couldn’t stop the full on cry that fell from her lips, stumbling forward as tears blurred her vision on her walk home, she didn’t know when she tripped on the loose stone’s and cut her knee open, she didn’t know when the shadows had enough of her pity party and winnowed her home. Selena barely even remembered those same shadows tucking her in bed before slinking off to tell their master. 

———

The next morning she was woken up by the blinding intrusion of the sun. Selena groaned, her head was pounding and she turned away from the window, hoping to escape the light but hissed at the pain raidiating through her body at the movement. It took her a few moment’s to remember what happened last night and when she did, she curled up even further in the blankets as she cried once again. Everything felt heavy, like the weight of the entire world was crushing in on her slowly and she couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape the truth that she was a horrible mate. The shame was crushing her heart, distant traumatic memories a faint buzzing in the back of her head and Selena decided to stay in bed just a little while longer, at least until she had to get ready for tonight’s Solstice celebration.

Time moved slowly and yet too fast. She had just watched the clock on the wall tick the minutes by, falling in and out of sleep to avoid the heaviness of her thoughts, everything felt numb and yet when the sun started going down Selena felt like she needed more time to rest, to pull herself together.

With a pained sigh she forced herself out of bed, ignoring how the few shadows Azriel left behind in case of emergencies swirled around her feet to make sure she was steady. Her shoulder was throbbing and her knee hurt like a bitch and once she was looking at herself in the mirror she knew why. The fall she had taken was still fuzzy in her mind and she was almost postive that the shadows had lessened the damage. But a bruised shoulder and a scabbed knee was nothing in comparison to some of the other injuries she had faced in this lifetime. The massive hangover wasn’t going to help her healing process so Selena applied some of the ointment’s she kept in the cabinent and took a vial of foul tasting medicine for her headache and set to getting ready for dinner. 

———

Azriel knew how important Winter Solstice was to his beautiful mate. Her family celebrated loudly every year before their untimely and gruesome deaths. Whether or not his lovely wife wanted to admit it he could tell that she needed him around even more during this time, to celebrate just as loud as she had before, to cherish and hold her even tighter as a reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere. But this damned assignment was ruining everything. He had been stuck an a different continent for months with little to no communication with Selena given the severity of this situation- trying to hunt down rumours about harming the little prince of night. He wished he could shadow-step immediately into his sweetheart’s arms but with how spread thin his magic and how much it would take to do so would nearly if not assuredly kill him. So a flying and winnow combo was the only way he could make it to her and he had left days ago determined to return for her favorite holiday. 

Yet he had severly underestimated how much energy he had left for shadow-walking, it was taking more time than usual especially trying to avoid detection from other courts lest he cause a political nightmare. So Azriel regrettedly sent a letter, the words appearing on the magic paper faster than he currently was, he could feel her mates disappointment before she hide it away and the thought almost had him not wanting to return at all to avoid facing that sadness head on. But everything ached for her, every second away felt like his body was slowly shutting down. The bond in his chest anxiously awaiting to return to his other half. He was flying above the clouds nearing Pyrthian’s border when suddenly her quietness on the bend snapped in half and all of her emotions hit him like a brick he nearly fell out of the sky and into the ocean below when he luckily caught himself on a strong current. 

He could feel her shame, her drunkeness, he could feel that little ball of anxiety in her chest getting bigger and bigger with each passing second he felt like he was close to hyperventilating right along with her. Azriel had to take deep calming breaths doing everything he could to reach her and calm her down and it only made it worse his mind felt like it was burning and his heart was pumping too fast. He was starting to panic at the weight of her emotions, slowly starting to drift down. He couldn’t fucking think-

Hundreds of years of displine and training had him regaining control of the sitaution on his hand. He had to shut off the bond so he couldn’t feel her, avoiding another untimely fall as he did. Guilt ate away at him for doing so but something else spurred him to beat his wings faster. His mate was hurting and he needed to fix it now. The bond in his chest raged at the thought and the sudden adreneline boost made his siphons flare slightly with a new determination to get there as soon as possible.

——— 

Dinner went by in a rush and her entire family was sitting in around the fireplace passing around presents, soft music played from somewhere in the house but with like the rest of the noise it all buzzed faintly in the back of her head. She had slipped into this headspace so fast and now she was drowning it and she didn’t know what to do. 

A soft hand nudged her shoulder and she pulled her attention away from the window. Her High Lady was standing in front of her with a soft smile holding out a small box in her hands, wrapped up in gold with a red ribbon curling gracefully down the sides. The Inner Circle gave her a few worried glances before returning to their own conversations and Selena flushed with embarrassment at the realization Feyre had been trying to get her attention for awhile. 

“Sorry.” She breathed out, wanting to fold in an herself and disappear even further. The fae smiled gently. “Not a problem, it is quite beauitful out there.” Selena hummed in agreement silently thanking Feyre for saving her from any further embarrassment. “This is from Rhys and I.” 

She took the gift with a smile and thanked her High Lord and Lady who gave her answering grins in return, after delicately opening the expanse wrapping paper and revealed the book inside she couldn’t but feel a tang of sadness in her heart. She recognized the handwritting stamped on the leather cover. Selena quickly looked up at her friends to confirm and Feyre nodded. It was one of her mother’s medical journals, after her family’s violent death they had all been given out to muesuem’s or research groups that had needed the groundbreaking information inside. 

A tear slipped down her cheek as she thumbed the pages. Everything about it was so uniquely her. The messy handwriting, worn cover, the strong scent of her jasmine perfume still clinging to a few of the pages. “I found it in a musuem visiting Day and practically fought the curator for it. Thankfully Helion owed me a favor.” 

“Thank you…I-I have no words.” Selena breathed out and Feyre gave her another smile. “There are none needed.” 

Present’s were close to being done when the clock struck midnight. Rhys outdoing himself each year with spoiling his mate for her brithday, she was making a joke about need to add a whole wing to the house just so she had a place to put her increasingly extravagant gifts and Rhysand’s eye glinted with mischief at the thought. Soon the night wrapped up and Selena walked home, needing to feel the cold wind on her face as she processed her thoughts. 

Any other day she would’ve loved Feyre’s gift, but all it had done was twisted the swirling vortex of shame and grief in her heart. Her mind seemed to grow more weary with the weight pressing down on her. She missed her family, she missed the way her mom sung holiday song’s all year and how her brother’s always played with the colorful lights. 

She missed Azriel, and the thought hit her that she would always be missing him, it wasn’t long until he would eventually grow tired of her. She had ruined everything, needing a better escape from her thoughts Selena winnowed home. Grabbing the whiskey on the top shelf Cassian bought a few years ago as an anniversary gift and popped the bottle open, the hands moved on the clock extremely slow and also too fast, drink after drink was poured as her mood soured even more. She didn’t even notice when the door opened and that familiar scent of rain and cedar invaded her senses. Didn’t even notice the thrum of the bond humming in delight until her mate was kneeling in front of her with a soft smile on his face.

“Hi Baby.” 

Selena almost broke down in tears right then and there, every fiber in her body screaming at her to jump into his arms, tackle him to the floor and pepper his face with kisses. But her friends word’s rang in her ear like a dark bell echoing in her head tugging on that rotten piece inside her chest. She smiled at him, the sight and scent of him still soothing some of the jagged pieces of her heart. “Hi.” She breathed out softly. 

Azriel’s brow’s furrowed at her lack of reaction but he wasn’t surprised he could already make an educated guess of where his lovely mate’s head was at based on the echoed feelings in the bond and the shadows whispering information in his ear. He gently pried the whiskey from her grasp and kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her mouth. She sighed into the kiss and Azriel’s heart hummed in contentment as the bond slowly settled at finally being able to touch her after all this time. He lifted her off the couch and carried her to their shared bedroom. Placing her down gently on the bed and settled next to her. Usually Selena would automatically curl into his side laying her head against his muscled chest and entertwine their hands pressing a kiss to each of his scarred fingers. But instead she curled away from and Azriel seethed silently. 

He was usually an extrememly patient male, he had to be in his line of work but she didn’t jump into his arms when he came home, not even kissing him or saying she missed him and now she was pretending he didn’t exist in their marital bed. His patience snapped. He let out a dark growl, sitting himself against the headboard and pulled Selena onto his hips so fast she let out a gasp of surprise. 

The sound elicited something within him and his stomach churned with need. But first he needed to check on his gorgeous wife before even acknowledging the desire that had slowly been building up with their time apart. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong sweetheart or do I need to pry it out of you?” He whispered placing soft kisses on the side of her neck. Selena’s eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation, everything felt intensified after their distance. His hand’s massaging her inner thights, his lips slowly moving down to her shoulder, the shadows running along her spine. It was overwhelming and she wanted to lose herself in the feeling, in him. But the voices returned tenfold and snapped their jaws viciously clamping down on her heart and she jerked away from him and off the bed. Hurt briefly flashed across his expression but instead he let out a soft breath. 

“W-Why are you doing that.” Selena asked gasping for air. This was too all too much. You’re going to lose him, you’re going to lose him, you’re going to lose him, you’re going to-

“Selena..Baby…” Azriel said in the deceptively soft tone it skittered across her bones and her heat skipped a beat when he said her name. “You’re my mate can I not kiss you?” 

Azriel slid off the bed, walking over to her silently he was good at reading people, especially her. He had spent years figuring her out understanding how her mind worked and how her heart sang exactly for moment like these and he knew that she just needed to talk aloud or else those little voices trying to take his mate away wouldn’t go away. She just needed a little push and Azriel knew her body, knew which button’s to push to elicit certain reactions. “The faster you tell me what’s wrong the faster I can fix it sweetheart.”

“I don’t need you to fix it!” She snapped, her voice breaking. “I-I just-“ A shuddering cry escaping her throat as Azriel gently pushed the pieces of her hair back. His heart shattered at the sound, the bond hissing at her dispair and he wrapped his arms around her pulling her close as she cried her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I don’t…want to lose you.” Selena said gasping for air in between her words. 

“You’re never going to lose me.”

She cried harder at that. “I lose everyone, it’s not long before-“

He pulled away grasping her face in his hands softly but firm, locking eyes with her so she could understand the gravity of his words. “Selena you’re not going to lose me whatever things you’re thinking it’s not true.” She let out a painful whimper, cries had subsided to small hiccups as she tried to regain control to speak. “I feel.. like-like you secretly hate me that I am too clingy and annoying and right now…I feel like you’re lying to me.” Her voice broke at the end and a pained sob escaped her lips as she finally admitted to what had beeing weighing on her heart and mind. 

Azriel felt like his heart had fucking shattered and turned to dust on the floor. 

He felt tears prick at his eyes as he realized how severe she had fallen into her trauma, she had turned away from him not able to face him as more sobs wracked her body. “Selena.” Azriel whispered his voice cracking. “Selena look at me. Please.” 

Selena’s heart broke ever further at the pain in Azriel’s voice and she slowly turned, he touched his forehead against hers and than pressing a soft kiss there as well. His hands rested on the side of her neck and the other one on his hip. “Selena I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I would go fucking insane without you, not having you jump into my arms as soon I got home made me feel like the world was ending. I love it when you touch me, I love it when you whisper how much you love me right before I fall asleep, I love it when you come and find me while I’m working just to curl in my lap. I am so addicted to you it makes it hard to breath and If I didn’t have you I’d go mad. You’re the brightest light in this world, watching you shine is the greatest honor of my life. When you laugh my heart sings, and when you cry it breaks. I love you so much Selena. I am utterly consumed by you.” 

Azriel grabbed her hands and settled them over his heart. “Do you feel that? My heart only beats for you and nothing and no one else. Ensuring your happiness and health is something I take very seiously and great pride in.” He was pushing all his love and adoration through the bond it was overwhelming and Selena had no choice but to feel the truth in his words, it spread her entire body with this mind numbing warmth and she let out a watery laugh. More tears falling as she did so. Azriel brushed them away ever so softly with the pad of his thumbs. 

“I’m sor-“ He cut her off with a kiss. “Don’t.” He whispered quietly. “You have saved me from myself too many times to count dearest, it’s a privilege to even try do the same for you.”

“I love you.” Selena choked out, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him impossibly closer.

“I am your’s Selena, and you are mine.” Azriel said with finality. Selena whispered it back to him, trailing soft kisses up his neck and peppering his face with their soft lips. Azriel grinned, the dutiful shadow that had been with her that night had already told on her toxic friends, whom he’d never liked and believe it or not this isn’t the first time he comforted Selena after their misplaced words. They would be dealt with, Azriel growing tired of their bullshit affecting his love. 

But right now all he wanted was to hold her. He picked her up and she squealed happily, wrapping her legs around him as Azriel walked them back to the bed. He was leaning above her his hands still gripping her hips tightly as he pressed his lips to hers. “Do you believe me when I say that I love you?” Azriel asked, pushing his love through the bond once again and Selena nodded. Azriel smiled, “Good because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” 

Selena laughed and a moment of silence passed between them as Azriel started pressing more kisses to the inside of her wrists, then her fingertips, than her forehead, her nose and finally her mouth. 

“Thank you.” Selena breathed out in the peaceful moment they had created. Azriel just hummed and pressed his lips to hers again absolutely determined to make her feel good, needing to chase away the darkness even further. His hand’s slipped under her skirt brushing against her inner thighs and Selena let herself reveal in his touch and in the all consuming warmth vibrating from his side of the bond with an intensity that thrummed under her skin. The doubt eddied from her mind and Selena sent every ounce of love right back to him as she finally pulled herself out of her dark thoughts. 

“Mine.” She whispered with a slight nibble on his lips and he growled lowly, returning the favor. “Mine.” He whispered back. 

A/N: Holy shit guys I've been writing this fic FOR WEEKSSSS! I kept deleting and restarting and getting stuck halfway through, this isn't really where I wanted to go with it but omg here we are. I'm not 100% happy with it but thank fuck its done. I might rewrite a different version later but idk. Let me know what you think!

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Seasonal Moods | SFW

I've been feeling really off the past few days with a swirl of negative, self deprecating emotions, and decided to attempt to cheer myself up by writing some comfort. The newest event with Xavier really drove home the point to me that he would be the best at helping his depressed partner.

I know I'm probably not the only one who feels like this, and with winter being here I know a lot of us with year round depression if getting hit a bit harder than normal, so if this is you, I hope you can find a little comfort with this fic. Remember you're loved and cherished and the voices in your head feeding you all these negative thoughts are lying to you.

Anyways, I didn't proof read this as I didn't have the energy so I apologize for typos.

❧ Pairings: Xavier x Reader ❧ Warnings: Depressed Reader, Non Sexual Intimacy, Non Sexual Nudity ❧ Synopsis: Sometimes seasons make sad moods worse, but sometimes people in your life can help make it a little better. ❧ Word Count: 2.2k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Seasonal Moods

You were feeling…some sort of way. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling in you, in fact you’d say it was rather the opposite of good. You felt dreadful, and for no reason other than it was winter. You had less sunlight, colder weather, and with that sometimes came a certain melancholic sadness that washed over you. You just felt…horrible.

Whenever you saw your friends together it felt more like they were almost ignoring you, even Tara seemed more distant from you. You knew logically it was all in your head, that these things weren’t happening, but it didn’t make you feel any better. It was like you were looking at every outing through a glass, you were there but there was something separating you from all the others.

You felt like you couldn’t reach out even if you wanted to. When everyone was having fun it felt like you bringing anything up would ruin the atmosphere. So you began distancing yourself as much as possible. Putting your phone on silent and saying you were asleep or busy when questioned why you didn’t answer, claiming you had something going on when invited out, the whole works. If you were forced to reply in message threads, it was easy enough to have some self confidence and fire at least. As long as you didn’t come face to face with others, most thought you were doing just fine. It did work, for the most part.

There was just one person who didn’t buy the facade.

Xavier.

How he always managed to know when something was slightly off with your mood was a quality in him you both admired and hated. He was your hunting partner, your neighbor, your friend, and possibly something more, but you two hadn’t had that discussion yet. You probably had just spent so much time together in the past few months he was able to easily tell when you were acting different. It shouldn't have surprised you, not with how observant he always seemed to be when it came to you.

You just wished he didn’t care so much, that he couldn’t tell you were depressed. That way you could easily distance yourself from him like you did with everyone else until you worked out your own thoughts and emotions. Sure it might’ve taken all winter to begin feeling better, but at least he didn’t have to see you like this.

He had made a surprise visit while you were in your bed, scrolling through funny videos in an attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts. You had managed to slip up at work and gotten a very minor injury, but it was enough to force you to take a few days off. You hated that more than anything. At least at work it kept you busy so you didn’t have time to deal with your emotions. When you were at home by yourself it seemed to only amplify the darker thoughts in your head.

“Hey,” his soft voice had startled you at first and you flinched, locking your phone and putting it against your chest. You closed your eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen you were awake on your phone. You were laying on your side, facing away from the door to your bedroom, so there was a…low chance.

Then you felt the bed dipping as he sat down, and you felt his hand threading through your hair so gently you leaned into it, “There we are, you are awake after all.” He said, the laugh he had was a little airy and you finally glanced at him. He was wearing his signature white hoodie at the moment and his hair was a little disheveled as if he just woke up a few minutes ago, “How are you feeling?”

“My side hurts, but other than that it’s fine. I can sleep it off.” You quickly said, slowly leaning away from his hand and placing your head back on the pillow.

“Have you already changed the bandages?”

“Yes.”

“Have you eaten today.”

Silence filled the air as you thought about that. You didn’t even know what time it was, let alone if you hadn’t eaten. The days were melding together, so you weren’t sure. You could see the sun was setting beyond the horizon…or perhaps it was just coming up. You had been doing nothing but bed rotting the past few days, sleeping on and off, and only getting up when you needed to use the restroom or when you realized how dry your throat was. When was the last time you even showered?

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said with another laugh, but this time it was less enthusiastic, “How about I go make you something real fast.”

This had you grabbing his wrist quickly, stopping him in his tracks, “What are you planning on making?” while Xavier had slowly gotten better at cooking foods, using things like the oven or stove top was still a hit or miss situation.

“It’s a bit chilly today so how about some ramen?” he suggested. Xavier could see the way your shoulders seemed to sag in relief at his suggestion. You weren’t particularly hungry, but you knew food would probably be good.

“That sounds good to me.”

“Alright, wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Xavier ran his hands through your hair again, scratching at your scalp and you wanted to flinch away. It was probably oily and gross and you didn’t want him to feel it.

You felt the bed shift again as he got up and the door closed behind him, leaving you alone again. You stared at the wall in silence, wondering if maybe you should get up and tell him he can go home, that you were capable of taking care of yourself right now. It would be a lie, sure, but you didn’t want him fretting over you. You didn’t deserve his attention when you were the one who dug this self deprecating hole yourself.

You didn’t have the energy though, and instead just laid there and waited for him to come back. Once again you didn’t know how much time had passed, it could’ve been hours or even seconds, it all felt relatively the same to you. The door opened back and you could smell the savory ramen, he had made one of your favorite flavors…again he was far too observant. The bed dipped and you heard items being placed on the nightstand next to you.

“Come on, let me help you sit up.” Xavier said, slowly lifting your body into a sitting up position. You felt him grabbing pillows to help prop you up in the bed and you sighed when the warm ramen was placed in your hands alongside chopsticks, “Eat up, I’m sure you’re starving without even realizing it.” He said. You glanced back at him, noticing how he was eating as well, blowing on the steaming noodles before taking a bite.

You followed the motions, noticing that, for some odd reason, the food tasted a little better than usual. The moment you took the first bite it was like your body kick started and you realized you were pretty damn hungry. You two ate in silence side by side on your bed, and by the time you finished you were being handed a nice cool glass of water to sip on. He let you just be for the time being, not saying anything but just being there. He helped clean up the empty containers and when he came back to the room he was shifting you again, picking you up.

Your hands found purchase around his shoulders, “Xavier, what are you doing?” you quickly ask, not understanding why you were suddenly being carried somewhere.

“To the shower.” It was simple enough of a statement, but you felt a wash of shame overtaking you. So he had noticed, of course he did.

You gave a strained laugh, “I must smell pretty bad if you’re dragging me to the shower…sorry about that.” You murmured, trying to make light of the situation.

“You don’t smell bad,” He quickly stated, “and even if you did, I don’t mind.” The door to the bathroom opened and he placed you on top of the counter, “I just realized you probably hadn’t had the energy to do it, so I’m helping.”

Your face felt a bit hotter now as you avoided him, “I’m not that injured.” You muttered under your breath.

“It’s not the injury I’m worried about.” Xavier was already working your clothes off, tossing the fabrics you’d been wearing for days off to the laundry basket you kept in the bathroom. It was almost overflowing with clothes at this point, and while you wanted to be embarrassed being stripped bare in front of him, his eyes weren’t focused on your body. He was more focused on taking care of you, which you didn’t know if it made you feel better or worse.

“Then why are you fussing over me so much if it’s not because of the injury?” you finally asked, watching as he went to turn the shower on to a warm temperature.

He began taking his own clothes off as he answered you, “You haven’t been yourself lately. Tara had even come up to me and asked if you were alright. I was going to wait a bit and see if you’d reach out, but I can’t wait too long when I knew you were here by yourself.” He explained, “You haven’t answered my messages like normal, and any time I try to make plans you say your busy, I got worried.”

His words were earnest and made you feel even worse about yourself. Congratulations to you, you’ve managed to make the sweetest man you knew feel bad and worry over nothing.

“I’m sorry…” it was all you could say as he began dragging you into the shower. His hands were already working on getting your hair wet so he could properly wash it for you. He didn’t know your entire hair routine, but at the very least your scalp would be clean. Anything else could be taken care of when you felt better.

“Don’t apologize.” He said, his words a bit sterner, “I’m not upset with you. You’re allowed to reach out whenever you want, or not at all. It won’t change the fact that I care about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained.

“If I hadn’t been so distant though, you wouldn’t be so worried.” You explained, “It’s my fault.”

“Is it also your fault that your brain decided to make you sad for no reason?”

“Yes.”

“No, it isn’t.” He said, rinsing out shampoo from your hair and putting in some conditioner, “It’s not. Sometimes things just happen. I wanted to be here for you, it’s as simple as that. I’ll continue being here for you as well, whether your sad or happy, and that’s of my own free will. You have nothing to apologize for, besides, I like being able to take care of you like this. I wish it were under better circumstances, but that’s no fault of yours.” He explained.

You didn’t know what to say, honestly, so you didn’t say anything at all. Instead you just let him wash you, and then you were being wrapped up in a fluffy towel and dried. The hoodie he had some in was placed over you, the smell of him taking over your senses. He put on the blue shirt he always wore underneath it and finished getting you two dressed. He went back to carrying you, but instead of going to your bedroom, he carried you out into your living room.

There were a lot of things you expected, but seeing a giant blanket fort with fairy lights, the TV on with a movie already prepared, and some soothing smells coming from an oil diffuser that you were certain you didn’t own…it hadn’t been what you expected.

He placed you down onto the soft blankets and you noticed a box of mini cupcakes next to you, all of them having cute designs in an assortment of flavors, “Tara bought those for you,” Xavier said, “She said when you’re feeling better she wants to take you to this new bakery that opened up, that’s where those came from.”

“I should message her soon.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing from you, but for now.” You felt Xavier getting into the fort with you, pulling you against his chest as he started an older movie. It had cartoon characters and you recognized it as one of your favorites growing up. You were certain you had only spoke of it once with him, but of course he remembered, “Let’s just relax for the rest of the night, okay?” he said.

“Ya…I  like the sound of that.” You got out. You still felt a bit numb, still felt off. It did make you feel better though, especially when you saw some lights from his evol, a little bunny he made, bouncing around. It was enough to make you genuinely smile for the first time in a while. Perhaps…being taken care of wasn’t so bad.

[barren-heart]

I haven’t really made a post about my feelings on this season, other than i do like it and i do like the finale.

However, i do have a theory on this season that ive had for awhile but i felt like it was controversial to say.

I do think this season did feel slightly off but not in a bad way. Let me explain.

First, I want to say i like a lot of the ideas for this season.

I liked Guillermo “moving out” officially and “getting his own place.” I thought him living in the wank shed was funny and also getting a job in the human world was a good move. I hyperventilated when i saw he worked at Panera again.

I liked that the writers wrote in Natasia’s pregnancy with the Rosemary’s Baby bit. Nadja got to be around humans which i think she wanted to always do more of. She even became more sensitive to human issues even if she doesn’t experience those feelings exactly like humans herself.

I like when Laszlo invents and I’m glad he was able to do something that wasn’t really connected to the main plot. I like that seanie came back with Laszlo, although i missed seeing him in the finale (i did like the alt version with him.) I like the vampires getting their own side adventures and he got to do this with Colin, which was a plus. I like that we got some of his background with his dad.

I liked that Colin was feeling alone with the changing dynamics and how he came to get closer to the monster since both of them are different to the vampires.

I liked that they did bring up Nandor’s search for love again. I honestly never thought they would bring it up again. The batcave was fun and the janitor bit was funny. I liked Nandor’s army and I’m glad we could see his old warrior side again.

I like that Nandor and Guillermo reconnected and that Guillermo doesn’t leave forever. I always worried that would end the show with Guillermo saying goodbye to the vampires for good. I liked the fake-out ending where if someone wanted that ending, they got it. That was bittersweet enough for some people, and could have worked. But, i liked that he came back and that it showed us, the audience, that Guillermo is so aware of the cameras that he does hide things on camera. I like seeing Nandor and Guillermo’s first meeting.

I liked that the last scene was Nandor inviting Guillermo into his coffin and that the Newhart alternate ending is the one they use on streaming. I like that they were the married couple featured in it when it could have easily been any pairing on the show like Laszlo and Nadja or Charmaine and Seanie or even the monster and I don’t know…Jerry?? lol.

I did wish The Guide had more onscreen plot than Nandor’s kinda love interest and working with Jerry mostly offscreen, even though I’m glad they did show her love. I think i really missed her being involved in the main cast.

I would have loved if the gang had an arc together. I don’t believe the main A plot involved everyone until the end. There was a lot of side adventures (which is fun), which gets me to my theory…

I don’t think the show was supposed to end with season 6.

Yeah, I’m one of those that believes that the show was cancelled. I think they wrote season 6 with the intention to have a season 7.

I think Harvey and Kayvan’s interviews since the news broke convinced me. Especially Harvey being so heartbroken on Instagram and Kayvan mentioning a season 7 constantly. And now that they are both talking about a spin-off, it all makes sense.

I think this was just a normal season that they already wrote and when FX pulled the plug, the writers went back in and added a few things here and there.

So, yeah. Season 6 would have been their friendship era and then season 7 would’ve worked towards the romance era. Episode 10 does work as a season finale, but not a series finale.

The documentary crew ending the documentary IS SUCH A GOOD PLOT. I think it was funny that they just ended the documentary, but thought it would be funnier if they started that plot from the beginning of season 6. Imagine the vampires fighting over how to end the documentary.

Jerry could have been an episode later and he could have been killed off in the second to last episode.

I think the writers did write episode 11 as an add-on to finish the show, but it didn’t really connect with the rest of the season.

I don’t think the finale had a surprise twist at all. And this show is actually good at season finale twists. Guillermo is actually a vampire slayer?! Colin was dying and came back as a baby?! Guillermo turned into a vampire?!

Yeah, their arcs and twists are honestly really good and thought out.

But, i think whatever twist ending they had was written out. Which leads me to my old theory:

The Guillermo is an energy vampire theory.

I still actually believe this was true, or at least a version of it. Watching it with the lens of Guillermo becoming a/an (energy) vampire again makes sense as the surprise twist. Enough was laid out that it could have connected so easily.

But ending the show that way might not have worked well since i do think they needed a bit more time, and i think that’s why any vampire!Guillermo stuff was removed. Because they didn’t have time to finish it properly.

And it would have tied up Colin’s arc of loneliness. I didn’t mind him connecting with the monster (i liked it a lot actually!). It felt like they were gearing up for Colin and Guillermo to connect on some level, and connecting to Guillermo becoming an energy vampire would’ve worked pretty well. That would have connected those plots together.

I do believe they wanted to do more with Guillermo’s arc but starting too much would’ve made the season really really full.

Actually ending everyone’s arc probably would have done that, too. I want more energy vampire lore. I want more Nadja connecting to her roots. I want to know why The Guide is really magical and what’s her name??

I think they truly needed one or two more seasons for that to be honest.

Which leads me back to the Nandermo of it all, too.

I think season 6 was about Nandermo reconnection arc after season 5’s Nandermo breakup arc.

I think they wanted to have Nandor and Guillermo make up first and then work towards their romantic arc going forward.

And that makes sense to me. They spent the season making them equals. And that feels earned to me. They ended the season together as equals.

And by The Finale, it seems like the writers knew they couldn’t add enough to finish every arc. And I respect that tbh.

I would have wanted a little more time with Nandor and Guillermo reconnecting before they kissed.

I do think that was the reason for the Newhart ending. It was a fun little homage but it was a Nandermo nod without having to skip over the important romantic arc they didn’t have time for.

It left the series open enough that if they don’t do a spinoff, we can fill in the rest.

And that explains the Guillermo’s “secret affair” and “the secret Nandermo batcave” and Nandor caring about the cameras being gone.

However, I think they left it open so that if they had the chance, they could do a proper spin-off to work toward the Nandermo romance arc we deserve instead of closing that door forever.

TLDR: I like season 6, but i do think the show was cancelled by FX and that’s why it felt a little different. Hopefully we do get the Nandor and Guillermo spin-off and potentially another What We Do in the Shadows movie to wrap it up completely.

It doesn’t feel like the end, but a new beginning.

[hailturinturambar]

Thoughts on Charlie Vickers's interview

Once again I'm analyzing an interview! In addition to this one, I've already separated two others that I'm going to analyze. If I find more, I'll definitely publish them too! :)

What I love most about Halbrand is that not even Charlie knew Halbrand was a fake. That makes the story better, doesn't it? Everyone suspected Sauron would be present at the show, but no one knew when or where. Not even Sauron himself.

This raises the stakes. The suspicion is not just from the audience, but from the cast as well. And Charlie is being genuine in his portrayals. Because he doesn't know there's something going on, but he acts on his own suspicions. It makes the character ambiguous. A great addition, I'd say.

A very interesting point between the beginning of the first season and the prologue of the second is the change in Halbrand's attitude. Yes, he was a stranger and we suspected all the characters of being Sauron. But apart from small characteristics, which could have been put in the show just to deceive, we didn't have many clues against Halbrand.

It's Charlie's brilliant performance that makes us think, "Yes, this is Sauron. Look at the way he carries himself." Halbrand on the raft in season two had a dark weight that wasn't as present in season one. But it's Charlie's face, his gaze, his way of speaking that accentuates Sauron's presence.

Charlie as Annatar is like a new person. He is unrecognizable from Halbrand's appearance. Annatar reminds me more of Mairon from the early days, with his powerful, godlike aura and his cold, calculating manner. A far cry from the carefree mortal man.

Annatar is very god-like. Distant, powerful, feared, icy. Halbrand and Annatar could be two completely opposite people, but they are not. Not deep down. However, it is with mastery that the characters were portrayed in such an opposite way. Like Sun and Moon.

Who knows, Sauron himself may have been affected by his human representation. After all, being Halbrand was the lowest point in his life. After losing so much, he returned in the form of a mortal man. I believe that at that moment, at the beginning, not even Sauron understood his place in the world.

Medici and Alice Hart were examples of Charlie's brilliant acting. I watched both for their roles and was impressed with Charlie's performance. He always gives his soul on screen and even though his appearance doesn't always change that much, his essence is completely different.

Sauron is undoubtedly a challenge. He is a major character, the most beloved villain in Tolkien's books. A villain we have rarely seen on screen. In the LOTR trilogy and as a Necromancer in The Hobbit, Sauron is a very distant figure, because his essence is there, but not Sauron in his physical form.

“I think that that is just part and parcel of: he is the Lord of the Rings.”

Are you kidding me, Charlie? You completely understood the character and you're trying to kill me by saying this.

This always gets me. I love how they never know who they're going to play, it must make it more interesting and mysterious. Honestly, I can't imagine Charlie playing anyone else. He's Sauron through and through. There's no other character he would have suited more.

This news didn't just change your life, Charlie, it changed all of ours. The actors in TROP are truly rare gems. They dedicate themselves and delve deeply into Tolkien's books to portray them in the most honorable and faithful way possible.

Oh, I'd love to know how Charlie felt when he discovered that in addition to playing a character in the book, he was portraying one of Tolkien's most important characters.

Prime Video, please record moments like this. Can you imagine what that conversation was like? I need to know how it all happened, I would like to follow every moment of the production of the show.

Yes yes!! This dedication was noticeable on the screens.

I would say that Sauron as Halbrand lived his most vulnerable and humiliating moments. This connection between repentance and humiliation before the Valar and kneeling before Adar was a very good connection.

These humiliations, the moments when Sauron is plunged into his own disgrace, certainly encourage him to continue and come back worse than before, stronger than before.

Sauron is relieved to be back, Charlie portrayed this so well. After thousands of years without form, stripped of much of his power, crawling to survive, to be in form again, able to control the things around him, must have been Sauron's greatest relief.

It's amazing to see Sauron's form in his rebuilding process. From a great, powerful Maia destroyed, to a slimy, lifeless form that lives more humiliatingly than an animal, to a human form. Did Sauron feel this weight, all this humiliation? He lost a lot of grace from his past self, so I bet he did.

The duality and ambiguity between Galadriel and Sauron, in my opinion, is what keeps the audience's attention. Because we're constantly theorizing and thinking. We wonder if, after being at his worst, Sauron is being vulnerable for the first time in a long time.

Or we also wonder if all of this is just an illusion and he's understanding how Galadriel feels so he can manipulate her to his own advantage.

Not speaking romantically, I think it was a bit of both. That Sauron was vulnerable at times, after all, he had lost so much and was still not fully confident, like when he became Annatar. But also, as he did with Celebrimbor, he also used what Galadriel wanted to manipulate her and get her to follow his plan.

What I like about Sauron is that even when he's inside an illusion, when he's created a whole new form to deceive the people around him, he's still Sauron, he's still the same person.

The level of connection between Sauron/Galadriel/Celebrimbor, not only showed how the two manipulated elves felt, but also exposed parts of Sauron. Fears and vulnerabilities that I don't believe he wanted to share, but that ended up being revealed through the connection.

And the scenes remained completely the same. It almost seemed like they filmed everything in the first season, it was so similar. As I said a little above, the weight of the scene changes a lot, Charlie's entire posture changes when the audience and even he himself know who Sauron is now.

We are like Galadriel, looking back and noticing that while everything remains the same, everything is different now.

The prologue of the second season was like a dark retelling of the first. We have all the facts presented under a new perspective, under the understanding of who Sauron is and how he returned to Middle-earth.

Our entire perspective changes when we realize that Charlie is Sauron. The Mist lifts from our eyes and we see Halbrand's actions from a new perspective.

I like the idea of ​​Galadriel-Light (although she is partly grey) and Sauron-Darkness. It's like the attraction to darkness, a tug of war that we witness with the characters, seeing who will give in first.

Besides new scenes that aren't in the book, I can't think of how they could have made Galadriel and Sauron meet again. However, I have complete confidence in the producers and the team that everything will work out in the end.

[fieldofheathers-stuff]

The Silco Saga, a restrospective after Arcane Season 2

Part One: Silco, Jinx and Canon VS Fanon

After rewatching the entirety of Arcane, I’ve been reflecting on some recurring points of contention in the fandom with the show's second and final season, particularly from the pro-Silco side. A common sentiment I’ve seen is that Season 2 diminishes the significance of Silco and Jinx’s relationship by excluding him from the narrative. This criticism often hinges on the idea that their father-daughter bond was central to Season 1, and sidelining it in favor of Jinx’s connection to Vander—which was only hinted at in the first season—cheapens their relationship and his role in the story. Initially, I sympathized with this take, especially as Silco was (and still is) my favorite character in Arcane. His limited presence in Season 2 felt disappointing, and the season overall didn’t seem as cohesive as the first. But after rewatching the show, my perspective has shifted. I think the fandom, especially Silco fans, might have viewed their relationship through fanon-colored glasses, forgetting how ambiguously it was written in the canon, and therefore have a skewed perspective on the reason for his “diminished” role in season 2.

Canon vs. Fanon: Silco and Jinx’s Relationship

In the show, Jinx is referred to as Silco’s daughter by only three characters: Sevika, Singed, and Silco himself. Sevika uses the term twice—once as a jab to Vi, and once to Silco directly, comparing his bond with Jinx to her own relationship with her father. Singed uses the term during a critical scene where he prepares to "revive" Jinx. Silco calls her his daughter twice as well: once while speaking to Vander’s statue and again during the climactic dinner confrontation. Notably, all of these acknowledgments occur within Silco’s inner circle. Characters outside this circle describe their relationship differently—Ekko says Jinx “belongs to” Silco, and Finn crudely refers to her as his “dog.” This suggests their father-daughter bond was deeply private, recognized only by those closest to them. Even for Silco himself, the acknowledgment of Jinx as his daughter is not immediate. He only explicitly calls her that in moments of extreme emotional vulnerability—after being faced by Jayce’s ultimatum and again during the final confrontation, when he’s forced to bid for her affection against Vi. This delay suggests Silco might not have fully understood or articulated their bond until those moments. His closed-off nature and trauma from Vander’s betrayal likely made it difficult for him to consciously embrace or display genuine paternal affection. While Silco has moments of vulnerability with Jinx, he often reframes them to maintain control or serve a larger purpose, consistent with his characterization as a man who repressed empathy to achieve his goals.

Jinx’s Perspective: Complicated Feelings

Silco’s presence in Season 2 hinges on how Jinx feels about him. As he is dead and was not widely beloved in Zaun, there is little reason for other characters to dwell on him. Jinx, however, is deeply affected by his absence, yet, when looking back on Season 1, it is clear that their relationship was far from simple. She's not just a girl mourning her dad, and the show addresses this point very precisely, albeit subtly. So subtly, in fact, that I feel like a lot of people are missing it.

What does Jinx feel about Silco, then? I feel like in order to answer this question, we first have to understand Jinx as a character. Her defining traits are her insecurity in attachments and her avoidance of difficult emotions—traits stemming from her traumatic childhood. Even during Season 1, she frequently doubts her place with Silco, as shown by her desperate attempts to prove herself. Her kidnapping of Silco in Episode 9—prompted by her fear that he might betray her—underscores her deep-seated anxiety.

By the end of Season 1, Jinx’s doubts regarding the sincerity of his affection are dispelled when Silco’s final words affirm his love for her. However, their relationship’s tragic end—accidentally killing him after finally realizing his affection—leaves an indelible mark on her psyche. Her guilt over his death compounds her existing trauma, making it difficult for her to process her feelings about him. The father-daughter bond that some in the fandom want so badly to be acknowledged can't be explored in its purest essence, because it barely had time to exist before it was irrevocably marred by another layer of trauma.

Furthermore, there’s the unspoken reality that Silco played a role in the events that led to her family’s death. While Jinx primarily blames herself, she is likely aware on some level of Silco’s involvement. This complex mix of love, guilt, and unresolved feelings creates a psychological minefield that she is unlikely to navigate openly, and thus Silco's role in Season 2 is diminished.

Silco’s Rebirth Narrative: A Misguided Legacy

Silco’s trauma from Vander’s betrayal led him to create a narrative of personal rebirth—a psychological coping mechanism that allowed him to suppress his pain and embrace a ruthless new identity. He tries to pass this philosophy on to Jinx, encouraging her to adopt a dual-identity framework to overcome her own trauma. However, this mindset is ultimately a form of avoidance, preventing true healing. Silco’s dichotomy of "before" and "after" ignores the reality that trauma does not erase or replace one’s identity; acceptance and integration are the only paths to recovery.

Season 2 subtly critiques Silco’s influence on Jinx. In her funeral monologue in the Pilt, she still employs the avoidance tactics taught to her by Silco, externalizing her pain, blaming an unnamed "someone" for her suffering (“someone put all those holes in you”). However, following two very brief appearances as a hallucination, Silco is conspicuously absent from the first two arcs. Early in the season, she seeks his guidance but receives none—a sign that, perhaps, she is subconsciously realizing that his lessons no longer serve her (and, perhaps, never have). Instead, she finds solace in other connections, which were denied to her while Silco was still alive. The all-encompassing codependence they developed towards each other allowed for no outside influence.

I find it particularly poignant that the character she offers her the most genuine solace in Season 2, Isha, is mute. Jinx’s doesn’t need someone, to rearrange her feelings into a well crafted narrative like Silco would have done. She needs the innocent enthusiasm of a child who believes in her no matter what, to finally start believing that she’s still worth something, that she can do something right. She needs to feel, to grieve, to accept the totality of what happened to her and what she is, because it’s the only way to overcome the tragedy of her life and move towards healing.

The Genius of Silco’s Season 2 Scene

Silco’s brief appearance in Jinx’s hallucination in the final arc Season 2 is, to me, a masterstroke of storytelling. In her subconscious, he delivers a message about breaking the cycle of self-perpetrating violence, guilt and shame that has trapped them both. This speech is uncharacteristic of the Silco we knew in Season 1, but that’s the point—it’s not really him. It’s Jinx’s way of processing her trauma and finding a path forward. By conjuring Silco to voice this revelation, she symbolically redeems both of them. It’s a poignant moment of closure and growth, showing how far she has come in her journey toward healing. It’s her looking at Silco and going: “Look dad, I fixed it. I fixed it for the both of us.”

Conclusion

Far from cheapening their bond, I think Season 2 offers a very nuanced yet subtle exploration of Silco and Jinx’s relationship. It acknowledges their mutual affection while addressing the darker, unhealthy aspects of their dynamic. Silco’s absence forces Jinx to confront her past and begin to heal, ultimately allowing her to honor his memory in a way that reflects her growth. This portrayal adds depth and complexity to their story, proving that even in death, Silco remains an integral part of Jinx’s journey.

[moldyrainbowbutter]

Empires SMP Headcanons

(most of these are season 1, I'm not caught up on season 2 lore)

S1 Gem and fWhip were both born human. They each chose different paths to gain power regardless: Gem chose wizardry and fWhip chose to be an artificer/alchemist. Part of the reason he moved to the Grimlands from the Crystal Cliffs is because of the corruption there (not the Xornoth corruption). It fascinated him. Eventually, prolonged exposure to it changed him. Like how in cannon, the corruption gave him real dragon wings to replace his mechanical wings, but I think it also turned him into a vampire.

This one is pretty vague but I think the floating islands of Stratos might have something to do with the floating islands in The Overgrown or the ones Wizard Gem fled to.

IDK if this is cannon but the lines from where water level changed that you can see at the Pix's archaeological dig are from when the ocean drained.

Sheriff Jimmy, Princess Katherine, and Princess Gem were childhood friends (I stole this from a YouTube comment)

Apollo (Gem's s2 bear) is a reincarnation of her X Life bear, Blue. This would fit with the cannon fact that she brought the season 1 dragons over from a previous world she'd lived in.

In season 1, Scott felt particularly protective of Shrub because he felt guilty for her home being destroyed (even though he literally did not cause it and could not have stopped it, he's just like that). That's why he didn't get too mad when she stole the Xornoth crystal. The reason he gave her those boots in the first episode was because he could sense that she had been near his brother, even though he didn't know that was what was happening.

In season 2, Pix, Gem, and Joel always knew about Lizzie being a cat. Pix and Gem because they know none of this is real, and Joel because he's her husband so of course he'd know

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

arcane s2 - review

okay so now that i have given my two cents on caitvi and i've had enough time to digest s2 of arcane, what do i think about the rest of it?

overall, i have mixed feelings about it. i didn't hate it but i feel like a lot of the themes and ideas were poorly executed, especially compared to s1.

(huge spoilers to arcane below!)

but let me start with the positives:

the animation OBVIOUSLY. huge props to the animators, s1 was already phenomenonal and s2 lived up to the hype, animation-wise. the fight scenes especially were just *mwah* chef's kiss.

the character designs were great. caitlyn looks a lot prettier with the middle parting. vi's emo phase is really hot. jinx's designs in the alternate universe and the finale were iconic. jayce's beard and disheveled look was just chef's kiss. jesus viktor was hot as fuck.

the voice actors did an amazing job obviously, and i didn't expect anything less from them.

jayce's and viktor's relationship was so good despite not having all that much screentime when you think about it. they interact in the beginning when viktor wakes up from his hex-coma and then reunite and fight and make up in the final few episodes. but because of their relationship that was built up in the first season, it all worked out smoothly and made for a very natural progression in their relationship.

jinx's redemption was pretty good. not the BEST but it was carried out well enough, especially in just 9 episodes. i didn't feel like it was rushed or undeserved. her sacrifice in the end was heartbreaking but it felt natural and not shoehorned in for some added angst.

and now for the negatives:

1. the pacing was really bad, in my opinion. they had only 9 episodes but they stuffed in so many subplots into this season that it felt overwhelming.

maybe i'm just stupid but i couldn't keep up with half of the stuff that was going on and some parts of the finale didn't make a whole lot of sense to me.

like the whole storyline with mel and ambessa and the black rose was a blur to me. i honestly don't know what happened in the end after ambessa dies.

the whole deal with singed and vander and whatnot was also really murky. like i get the overall premise but it was really hard for me to grasp every single detail.

maybe this is just a me problem and i'm too dumb to follow more than two storylines at the same time. but s1 already had a lot going on and it was still a tad bit easier to follow.

s2 was just crammed with a whole bunch of different characters pursuing different goals and facing different obstacles, 9 episodes weren't enough to give all of it a satisfying conclusion. and as a result, some of the arcs felt rushed and unfinished.

like what happened to the whole found family thing with sevika, jinx and isha? they were beginning to get closer and form a good relationship but then suddenly, sevika is pushed out of the image and we never see how she reacts to jinx and isha's death.

2. while i don't think that caitvi is abusive, i still don't think the ship was great. it was just super rushed and there is a grain of truth to what caitvi antis are saying.

like yeah, caitlyn being an enforcer and seeing nothing wrong with it was.. questionable. wasn't the whole point of s1 that enforcers were ruining the lives of the people in zaun? wasn't police brutality and classism the main theme of this series? how come vi's parents were killed by enforcers and she was unfairly imprisoned for years by enforcers, but somehow she ends up dating an enforcer?

before s2 came out, i expected caitlyn to give up her job after realizing how corrupt it was. i thought that would be the natural progression of her arc, especially since she's seen how much the people of the undercity has suffered at the hands of enforcers. but nope, she keeps her job and it's never addressed in the end.

i don't think that caitlyn hitting vi once out of frustration and once out of necessity makes her a domestic abuser. but i do think it's kind of icky for vi to end up in a relationship with an enforcer, and for the show to frame it in a semi-positive manner. it's not entirely romanticized but the problems with it aren't really addressed either.

3. i feel like the themes of classism wasn't as well addressed in this season as it was in the first one. the first season had a strong message and it stuck to it. the second season was all over the place and then suddenly, there's viktor and the whole glorious evolution or whatever, and the conflict between piltover and zaun is pushed aside.

i like that sevika becomes part of the council in the end but is she the only one representing the undercity? is one person enough to speak for all these people in zaun? at least it's true to real life, i guess.

overall, i felt like the message was a lot more murky in this season. this ties to my first complaint because while s1 had a lot of storylines too, they followed a common theme. war, classism, and how privilege and the lack thereof affects people. s2's storylines are just all over the place and none of them seem to follow a theme. at least some of them could have been discarded.

4. i briefly mentioned this before but the fact that jinx stops experiencing her hallucinations never made sense to me. especially after she accidentally killed silco, shouldn't they get worse? it is implied that she has schizophrenia and c-ptsd so i really don't understand how silco's death suddenly got rid of most of her symptoms.

she still sees and hears the hallucinations from time to time and her mental state is definitely far from stable, but it was still such a huge jump from her psychotic breakdown in the s1 finale.

so yeah, these are my thoughts about arcane s2. there were more pros than cons but the cons still outweigh the pros, simply because of how much impact they had on the plot.

i'm generally not one to demand more seasons or episodes out of a series where the writers have already told the story they wanted to tell, but arcane s2 was so rushed and so filled to the brim with different characters and storylines, i couldn't help but feel like it would have benefited from having more episodes to play everything out more slowly.

i still liked this series a lot and i enjoyed watching it, but i'm not blind to its flaws and i try not to be biased.

[littleslaywrites]

pas de deux- the prince and sugar plum | spencer reid x bau!reader 

pt 4 of pas de deux - based on request by @kakamixoxo

summary: spencer brings your students (and you) gifts after their performance of the nutcracker

word count: 1.2k

cw: f!reader, fluff

After your week of subbing, your friend had asked you to help teach the little ones their dance for The Nutcracker. She knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, especially after the girls had begged you to visit them again. They were all just old enough for their first year in The Nutcracker as the gingersnaps, and you had been enlisted to be their first introduction to the show.

Growing up, winter doubled as nutcracker season. You’d danced almost every role by the time you graduated college, knowing the show inside and out. Your friend briefly showed you the choreography, simple to accommodate for the beginning dancers. 

Teaching them was a little easier than their regular classes. They understood the excitement of joining the older dancers in a “real” show. You could also coax them into behaving with your own stories of your own past performances.

The girls kept asking for a visit from Mr. Spencer, and after a month of begging, you finally agreed. They had been working hard, so you told Spencer to come by after work. When he walked in the door, the girls cheered, even more excited to see him than you were.

“Can Mr. Spencer learn our dance?” one of your students asked.

“If he agrees to behave,” you say, always looking for a way to tease him. 

The simple steps turned out to be just right for him, and he quickly perfected the skips and little hops. Even the girls were excited about his success, encouraging him in the same way you did for them. 

“Maybe I could perform with you,” he joked at the end of rehearsal. Your students were less enthusiastic about this idea, concluding that he was too tall to blend in with them. As he left, he promised that he’d come see the show. This was perfect, as you could use it as leverage for them to focus whenever they got distracted. You’d remind them that they needed to perform their best as “Mr. Spencer would be in the audience,” which would always make them concentrate.

As you were in the studio, Spencer read the book the ballet was based on. When you were in bed that night, he told you all the differences he found between the show and the origin. You listened intently, savoring his bedtime story. He was truly interested in everything you were passionate about, wanting to learn about everything related to you. 

Eventually, opening night arrived. You opted for a short green dress, and Spencer decided on a red tie to create a festive color scheme between the two of you. Knowing how much you loved the gifts he gave you after all your performances, he’d gone out and bought all your dancers small nutcracker ornaments.

“You look amazing,” he says, kissing you after he’d parked the car outside the theater.

“It feels weird to not be the one performing,” you say. 

You never imagined you could be more nervous in the audience than backstage, but sitting in the theater, you couldn’t help but worry for your girls. You could only imagine how they felt, never having stepped on a stage in front of so many people before. 

Sensing your jitters, Spencer grabs your hand. “They’ll do great,” he says, squeezing, “considering they had a fantastic teacher.” You smile, lightly kissing his cheek. 

The performance goes smoothly, your girls remembering all their steps. Once their part is over, you’re able to relax and enjoy the rest of the second act. The ballet feels like watching a replay of your life, from your first role en pointe as Clara to your last role in college as Sugar Plum.

You rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder during the pas between Sugar Plum and the prince. It seems like the music has taken on another life after you met Spencer. You could always feel the love written into it, but now you understood how it felt to experience it yourself. Spencer feels the same, imagining the two of you as the characters. Even if he couldn’t dance in the literal sense, he’d mastered the routine you had together.

At the end of the show, you make your way to the stage door. When the young dancers see you, they all make a run for you, capturing your legs in a hug. Next, they see Spencer, holding the bag with their gifts in it.

“I’ve got something for you all,” he says, crouching to meet them at their level. “I always get Miss y/n a gift after her performances, so I thought you all should get something, too.”

He pulls out the tiny nutcrackers, and the girls thank him and pull him into a group hug. “Consider this an official apology for distracting you all during class.” The girls giggle, all trying to convince him that he wasn’t a disruption and that he should visit more often.

“Did you know that, according to German folklore, nutcrackers are said to bring good luck?” he says as he hands each girl their ornament.

When all the girls have their gifts and have left to find their parents, Spencer grabs your hand and leads you back to the car. 

“I told you they’d do well,” he says as you climb into the passenger seat. “I know you weren’t actually performing, but I still got you something.” Reaching to the backseat, he pulls out a gift bag and hands it to you.

Inside is a record of the music from The Nutcracker. Spencer knows you collect records, both of your archives merging when you moved in together. 

Next is a pair of earrings, shaped like little nutcrackers. “I thought you could wear them when we come for closing night,” he says. 

“They’re perfect,” you say, “The girls will be obsessed.”

Last is a small white box containing cookies in the shape of snowflakes. You take a bite right away. “It’s good,” you say through your full mouth. Spencer smiles, reaching for one himself.

“I think we should make this a tradition,” Spencer says, taking your hand. 

“I like that idea.” You rub your thumb over his as he drives home, light snowflakes waltzing down to the windshield. 

“I wish I could’ve seen you perform in it.”

“You know, I’m sure my mom has videos of all the shows,” you say. 

“I’d love to see that.” You glance at him to see his bright smile. Love fills you as you see his genuineness, fully interested in watching some old home videos that haven’t been touched by anyone but your parents.

That night, you call your mom, who promises to mail the tapes to you. You put on the new record, letting the music bring back memories of another life. You used to wonder if you’d made the wrong career choice. You’d given up the opportunity to dance professionally after college, choosing a career in the FBI instead. That choice haunted you for a while, but as you stand in the apartment you share with Spencer, you realize where your decision had led you. Ballet will always be a part of you, but it’s not what put Spencer in your life. Looking over at where he sits on the couch, you thank your past self for bringing this life to you.

[kathlare]

lingering thoughts

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Set during the Austrian Grand Prix, this chapter delves into Lando Norris’s inner turmoil after learning about Amelie Dayman’s breakup.

Wordcount: 2.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

June 29th, 2023 - Spielberg, Austria

The Austrian Alps stood tall and imposing under the clear July sky, the paddock bustling with activity as drivers, team personnel, and media swarmed the Red Bull Ring. Lando Norris strolled through the paddock with a spring in his step, his usual easy grin plastered across his face. For once, he wasn’t faking it for the cameras. The reason for his good mood? Amelie Dayman was single again.

It had been just a few hours since the news broke. Both Amelie and Rodrigo Riquelme had posted identical Instagram stories confirming what Lando had only heard through rumors until now. The couple, who had been dating since late 2021, had quietly parted ways, and while Lando had heard whispers of their split—Carlos had been the one to mention it first when he overheard Checo talking to Max—he hadn’t believed it. Not really. He’d been hopeful, sure, but the logical side of him had dismissed the idea, unwilling to get his hopes up again. Now, with the confirmation on social media, there was a fluttering in his chest that he hadn’t felt in… well, a while.

His mind was racing, a thousand thoughts at once: What does this mean? Could this be it? Could we actually have another chance?

But there was also that nagging feeling deep down, the one that kept him from fully embracing his hope. The fear. The uncertainty. Maybe we’re not meant to be.

Lando sighed, his smile faltering for just a second before he caught himself. He was at Media Day for the Austrian Grand Prix, supposed to be focusing on the race weekend, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to Amelie. To her Instagram story. To the idea of her being single, and what that might mean for them.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when everything had been different. When he and Amelie had been more than just friends. It wasn’t anything public, anything anyone really knew about. They had kept it quiet, just the two of them. It was casual, nothing serious, or at least that’s how they had both convinced themselves. But that had been before everything fell apart—before she got caught up in filming Wicked and he’d started talking to Luisinha, who had become his girlfriend after he and Amelie ended things.

He hadn’t expected it to end like that. The whole situation with Amelie had left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially the way she seemed to completely shut him out. But now, months later, with the split between Amelie and Rodrigo, he couldn't help but wonder: Could we try again?

Lando shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he entered the media room. His PR team had already prepped him for the questions, the usual inquisition about the race, his season, his goals. But all he could think about was Amelie.

—Ready for the questions, Norris?— Carlos chuckled from beside him as he took a seat at the table.

Lando flashed a grin. —Always.—

But Carlos could tell something was different. Lando wasn’t his usual, carefree self. He was… lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And Carlos, being Carlos, had a pretty good idea why. The rumors about Amelie and Rodrigo had been circulating for a while, and Carlos had known before anyone else that something was going on. He had seen how Lando had reacted when he first heard the news, the barely concealed hope in his eyes that maybe, just maybe, Amelie was finally single again.

Lando settled into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to look casual as the media session began. His eyes flicked over to Carlos, who gave him a knowing smirk. Lando shot him a glare, though it didn’t have the usual edge. He couldn’t help it. His mind was elsewhere.

Carlos leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low enough so only Lando could hear. —You’ve got a stupid grin on your face, mate. I know why.—

Lando bit back a laugh, a little nervous but trying not to show it. —I don’t know what you’re talking about.—

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. —The break-up news. You’re telling me you’re not at least a little excited?—

Lando’s smile faltered for a split second. —I don’t know. I mean... yeah, sure, I’m happy for her, if that’s what she wants, you know?—

Carlos leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying this. "Right. But also, it’s not like you’ve been completely ignoring it. You heard the rumors a while ago, yeah?"

Lando bit his lip, glancing around as the media settled in, beginning their usual string of questions. His mind was still caught in the whirlwind of possibility. —Yeah, I heard it, but… I didn’t want to believe it, you know? Like, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.—

—You do that a lot,— Carlos said with a grin, though his tone was softer now. —I think you’ve been hoping for this for a while.—

Lando’s fingers drummed against the table, though his focus was far away from the questions that were being asked. His thoughts were a blur. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the idea that Amelie might actually be single again. The thought made him feel alive, but it also brought a flood of old memories, the times they’d spent together before everything fell apart. He remembered how easy it had been then, how simple it had seemed to be with her, even if they both denied it. He remembered the nights they’d spent talking, laughing, letting their walls down with each other.

Then, he remembered the end. The painful silence after they’d both walked away, trying to convince themselves they were fine, that everything was fine. But it had never really been fine. He had wanted more. They both had.

He couldn’t help it. A part of him had never really let go.

— Do you still talk to her?— Carlos asked, his voice breaking into Lando’s thoughts.

Lando snapped back to reality. — What? No. I haven’t talked to her since the last time, you know? That was...— He stopped himself, suddenly feeling the weight of the words. That was months ago. The last time they’d seen each other was at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2022, and Amelie had acted like he wasn’t even there. The silence between them had been suffocating. He hadn’t expected it, but somehow, he had known it was coming. —It’s been a while,— he added, a little quieter than he meant to.

Carlos nodded slowly, sensing the shift in Lando’s tone. —I get it. But I know how you are, mate. You’re not fooling anyone.—

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he quickly glanced away, focusing on the flashing cameras in front of him. He wanted to brush it off, to act like it didn’t matter, but it did. It mattered more than he wanted to admit. He’d kept his distance after they broke up, but the thought of Amelie being single again made him wonder.

Could they find their way back to each other?

His heart gave a small, hopeful leap at the thought, but then the fear crept in again. What if things weren’t meant to be? What if they were too broken to fix? What if they had moved on? What if she didn’t even want to hear from him?

Lando rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the anxiety building in his chest.

The questions from the media began rolling in, but Lando could barely concentrate. His rehearsed answers tumbled out on autopilot, a mix of team strategies and hopes for the weekend’s race. The usual banter with Carlos helped mask his distraction, but every now and then, his mind wandered back to her. The confirmation of her breakup had shaken something loose in him, and now, it was all he could think about.

Between questions, Carlos nudged him again, his tone light but his gaze knowing. —Mate, you’ve got to stop overthinking it. If you want to talk to her, just do it.—

Lando shot him a look, his voice dropping to a whisper. —It’s not that simple.—

Carlos shrugged, clearly amused. —It’s always been that simple. You just like to make it complicated.—

Lando didn’t respond, though he couldn’t argue. It wasn’t like he could just message her out of the blue, not after everything. What would he even say? Hey, saw you’re single again. Fancy a chat? It sounded ridiculous even in his head.

Now, sitting there in the media room, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe he could finally say all the things he’d been too scared to say before. But then, there was that other voice in his head, the one that reminded him of how badly things had ended between them. The arguments. The silence.

Lando shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. He needed to focus on the race, on his performance. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He remembered the way she used to look at him, the way she laughed at his stupid jokes, the way she made him feel like he could be more than just a driver, more than the guy everyone expected him to be.

And now, she was single again.

The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He didn’t know if he was ready for this, if he was ready to face her again. But a part of him wanted to try. Wanted to see if there was still something there, something worth fighting for.

As the media session wrapped up, Lando stood, stretching his arms over his head. Carlos clapped him on the back, grinning. —You’ll figure it out, mate. Just don’t fuck it up this time.—

Lando laughed, though it felt hollow. —Thanks for the vote of confidence.—

Carlos smirked, already walking away. —You’ll need it.—

Lando lingered in the room for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he stared at the floor. He could hear the bustle of the paddock outside, the hum of engines and the chatter of fans. Normally, it was the kind of atmosphere that energized him, but today, it felt different. He felt... restless.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over her contact. Her name stared back at him, a name he hadn’t seen on his screen in months. He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. What would he even say? Would she even want to hear from him?

He locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, letting out a frustrated sigh. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not yet.

Instead, he walked out into the paddock, the sunlight hitting his face as he took a deep breath. He needed to clear his head, to focus on the race weekend. But as he made his way back to the McLaren garage, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The hope. The fear. The possibility.

Maybe we’re not meant to be, he thought again, but this time, it didn’t feel so convincing.

Maybe we are.

[hubbvrd]

Off day | Sam Hubbard

❝ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.❞

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Carefully, Y/n pulled her cozy blanket over her with one hand while trying to balance her laptop as best she could with the other.

It was the first day of the off season.

Sam had finished all the games and y/n had taken a few weeks where she would work from home to spend more time with Sam.

Some people probably thought that the majority of the stars flew off on vacation, sunbathing and sipping cocktails by the pool as far away from home as possible.

But not Sam and y/n. The two wanted to approach the off-season as relaxed as possible, so the two had decided to tackle everything spontaneously.

And so the two hadn't booked a vacation yet, because the two wanted to do that spontaneously.

One or the other had to plan his things, know when it went where and have fixed dates for certain things.

But that was different for y/n and Sam.

The two of them had always been quite spontaneous, which they both got along with very well and it had never really caused any problems.

Satisfied, y/n sighed when she felt the big cozy pillow in her back.

She loved to snuggle up on the couch in comfy clothes - mostly she wore Sam's hoodie - and surf a bit on the laptop.

And today was just such a day.

"Are you sure it's okay if I play a little?" , Sam asked her as he unzipped the wrapper from his new PlayStation game he'd bought an hour ago.

"What was my answer the last ten times?" , y/n asked him the counter question and flipped open her laptop.

"It was : no I didn't and now play before I change my mind" , Sam quoted y/n.

"Well there's your answer."

Y/n couldn't help smirking, which is why she put her laptop on her bent knees so Sam couldn't see her face.

"Okay, thanks. I won't play for long either. After all, I'm off work now, and I want to spend the time with my wonderful girlfriend."

"Suck up," she said, but couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto her lips.

"I love you too!" , Sam exclaimed as he left the room to head upstairs to the room that was being used as a gaming and movie room.

Y/n thought about what she should do now in the time on her laptop until Sam would come back and they would do something together.

But she didn't have to think too long, because shortly after she landed on Pinterest, the app she loved so much.

There she mostly found craft ideas, which she liked to try out and often gave away for birthdays.

But also outfit, decoration, or hairstyle ideas were at the top of y/n's list of pinboards, which grew more and more on her account with every visit to the app.

And so, for now, she was busy for a few hours.

—

When y/n next glanced at the clock, she was startled to find that it was almost two hours later.

She had been quite engrossed in all the new pins, so she hadn't noticed how quickly the time had passed.

She closed the laptop and listened to see if Sam had finished his game and was in another room.

But the house was silent.

A glance outside also showed that it was getting a little dark by now.

But not because it was so late, but because a rain shower was coming.

Hopefully it would pass quickly, y/n thought to herself, as she closed the laptop and then began to fold her cozy blanket.

After making the sofa neat again, she ran over to the adjacent kitchen and filled a glass with water, which she emptied in one go and began listening again.

But it remained silent, so y/n assumed that Sam had also forgotten the time and was still playing The Last of Us.

In fact, he had been talking about the game for a few weeks, which some of his teammates were playing themselves and had inspired Sam with their talk of the game, so that Sam had subsequently bought it as well, although the Playstation had actually more or less always been just a dust collector.

Briefly, y/n thought about whether she should let Sam play a little more or whether she should go straight up to him.

But she decided to prepare some sandwiches first, so she got everything she needed and started to make some sandwiches.

Quietly she hummed the new Harry Styles song, while she moved her hips lightly to the beat and carefully placed the sandwiches.

A moment later, as she looked contentedly at the sandwiches piled on a large plate on the counter, she decided to check on Sam now.

It was raining outside by now, so the rain was lightly pattering against the windows.

Otherwise, it was still pretty quiet in the house, which didn't change when y/n ran up the stairs.

At the top of the house were five more rooms. One of them was the bedroom and the second one was the gaming and cinema room.

Slowly y/n walked towards the second room, where the door was ajar.

Cautiously y/n opened the door and took a look inside the room.

Sam was sitting in the corner, where there was a small PC screen on a desk and a gaming chair in front of it.

He had headphones on and probably he would get scared if y/n entered the room.

That's why y/n carefully leaned against the door and looked at her boyfriend, who she could only see from the side.

But he looked quite concentrated, so she again considered whether she should disturb him.

The decision was quickly taken away from her, however, when she glanced at the clock on the wall in the room.

By now, Sam had been gaming for over two hours, which he probably didn't even notice himself, as he was as engrossed in the game as y/n had been on Pinterest just a few minutes ago.

Carefully, she knocked on the wood of the door, which she wasn't sure Sam had even heard.

Nevertheless, she crept over to Sam on her socks across the parquet floor, which creaked softly in a few places.

He didn't have his headset on both ears properly, so he had probably already heard y/n, but made no effort to turn around to her.

"Sammy?" , she asked cautiously as she slowly moved her hand to his shoulder and placed it there a moment later.

"Huh?" , she quietly perceived from the addressed, who, however, did not take his eyes from the screen and it looked like he was just in a place where it was impossible to turn around or off now.

"You've been playing for over two hours," she said softly.

From Sam she perceived only a slight nod, which left her smiling slightly.

"I made sandwiches" , she informed him, but Sam didn't seem to really notice her sentence anymore, as he was already quite engrossed in his game again.

"You love to eat them, don't you? Extra with cheese" , she tried again to get Sam to listen to her carefully.

But no chance.

Then just differently, y/n thought to herself, as she pulled the second gaming chair over to her, let herself fall on it and then slid as close as she could to Sam.

He briefly looked over at her, but didn't think much of it, so he continued to gamble intently.

Y/n, however, began to poke him in the stomach shortly after, which didn't begin to bother Sam at first until y/n repeated the process over and over again within a few seconds.

"I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention" , she let him know when she noticed that the poking was starting to make him uncomfortable.

"Okay you have my full attention," Sam said a moment later as he turned off the screen and placed the headset on the desk.

Sam leaned back and then held his girlfriend's hand, pulling her onto his lap afterwards.

"Do you know what I just told you?" , she asked him as she placed her hands on his neck.

"That I look cute gambling?" , he asked her with a grin, trying to lighten the situation a bit, because he didn't want to make y/n angry.

"No, not that. I said I made sandwiches, but you'd rather spend more time with your new game than with me."

"Aww is my girlfriend jealous of a video game?" , he asked her with a smirk as he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Of a video game? Never!" , she said quickly and then crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Then you won't mind if I keep playing now, will you?"

Even though Sam was joking, y/n gave him a quick evil eye and quickly exclaimed

"No! I finally have your attention now, don't I?"

"And you'll have it for the rest of the evening now, too" , Sam promised her as he stood up, picked her up and then carried her downstairs to eat his favorite sandwiches.

[official-wonho]

[INTERVIEW] Wonho talks return to music, US tour, upcoming album: 'I feel really happy every day'

Midtown Manhattan is bustling beyond its normal fast pace on Dec. 13, and it's not just because of the holiday season. The iHeartRadio Jingle Ball is in town.

Among those performing at the concert's pre-show All Access Lounge is Korean solo artist Wonho. It's his first time back in the States since being discharged from his military enlistment in September.

"I'm surprised that I was able to come back so quickly to the U.S.," the 31-year-old tells USA TODAY backstage at the Hammerstein Ballroom. "And I think it's due to my fans support."

Wonho's schedule has been packed, but there's so much that he's grateful for.

"Now that I see my fans in front of me, I feel really happy every day," Wonho says.

Challenges in returning back to the stage

Wonho says it was challenging to readjust after nearly two years away from music.

"It was a little bit strange to be back on stage performing again. It had been such a long time ... I even felt like I was so nervous that my legs were shaking" he reveals. "I thought that it was a little bit awkward to get used to making facial expressions to the camera again, and it took a little bit of time."

Prior to his Jingle Ball performance in New York, Wonho performed at Brooklyn Steel Dec. 12 as part of his "Welcome Back, Wenee" tour. And despite the muscular musician's physique and calm demeanor, he still gets shy.

"I feel nervous now, because I'm constantly in new places and in front of new fans," he shares. "Each stage is different, especially in the U.S.."

On his first solo tour, Wonho made stops in six cities, including Houston, Seattle and Los Angeles.

But on stage, Wonho has been able to acclimate with ease. He commands attention with his smooth voice and compelling choreography.

Wonho shares his love for Wenee

Coming back to music was an easy decision for Wonho. After all, his fans are what kept him grounded during his enlistment.

He says he would read fan letters and recall shared memories as motivation. All of those "helped the time go very quickly," he adds

Wonho's fans, called Wenee, are the impetus for his artistry. They are one reason for his latest single, "What Would You Do".

"I came back with an English single because English is a global language, and I can reach fans all over the world," he says.

And to be able to see his international fans so soon has felt unbelievable.

"Each each day is actually very memorable, and today, too is special in its own way," he says.

Wonho's morning routine on tour

The last month has been busy for Wonho, but his days always start the same.

He takes a wellness shot in the morning, easing into his schedule and then working out. "That's basically my morning routine every day, no matter where I am in the world," he says with a laugh.

"As for workouts, arms would be an easy day," Wonho says. "Chest is probably the worst. So sometimes, I skip those days." Wonho does, however, like leg workouts.

And Wonho's must-have tour items include a massage ball, a massage gun, pairs of white and black athletic socks and his medicine pouch.

Wonho's upcoming album teasers

Wonho calls "What Would You Do" a new start. "My goal is not really charts or numbers, but I just want to make a lot of good music," he explains.

In 2025, he plans to release a new album. "I actually recorded a song in Chicago, and I've been constantly working on music," he reveals. "For my future album, I want to try out new styles."

When writing music, Wonho sees it as a point of connection with his fans. He focuses on expressing his emotions in each song, so that others can apply the lyrics to their own experiences.

"I want them to remember the moments that we shared together," he says. "I think now I just want to really focus on making the mood of the songs."

via: usatoday.com

[grimeshound]

SCOUT’S HONOR.

word count: 2,292

pairing: rick grimes x negan smith

summary: the one where rick shows off a skill he learnt in the boy scouts, to negan’s amusement.

warnings: 18+, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, oral sex (m receiving), creampie.

a/n: finally uploading my first ao3 work onto tumblr ^_^ this takes place around season 8/9 but i physically cant put a photo of s9 rick without laughing… love him but not his best look i fear

ill most likely use tumblr mainly for casual blurbs or short ideas not long enough for fics, but i wanted to upload this to get the ball rolling. hope you enjoy!

—-

Time blurred in the cell. Minutes bled into days, days into weeks, weeks into months. Negan Smith, the once-feared leader of the Saviors, had been stripped of his grandeur piece by piece. Life in the Sanctuary had kept him on his feet—always something to fix, someone to intimidate, something that demanded his attention. But prison was a complete 180, he was bored out of his goddamn mind. And just when he thought he’d go crazy, like some twisted prayer had been answered, the cell door swung open.

The sheriff strode down the steps, hips swaying with a deliberate, steady rhythm that had Negan’s ears perking up at the echoed sound of booted footsteps filling the prison cell walls. Rick’s expression was closed off, unreadable as he came to a halt just beyond the bars.

“Well, well,” Negan grinned, “Looks like Christmas came early. Missed me that much, Rick?”

Rick’s deadpan expression didn’t waver. “You can’t taunt me anymore, Negan. You’ll be stuck in that cell for the rest of your life. Your days are over.”

“So, you came here to taunt me, huh?” Negan drawled, slumped against the wall with one hand clutching his chest in mock agony. “Wanted to gloat a little, feel better about yourself? And here I was thinkin’ you actually missed me, prick. I’m hurt.”

Rick sighed, the irritation building with every one of Negan’s quips. “I came because I need you. We need directions to a Savior outpost up north.”

Negan’s face lit up as he pushed himself to his feet. Though the height difference between him and Rick was barely noticeable, the space between them always felt charged, like Negan was somehow towering over him. He stepped forward, pressing himself against the steel bars, closing as much distance as the barrier would allow as he slung his arms across the bars, hand inches away from Rick’s face.

“I can finally die a happy man now, hearin’ the great Rick Grimes sayin’ those words.” Negan mimicked Rick’s drawl, his voice dropping low. “I need you.” His tone was husky, his mocking imitation sending an involuntary shiver down Rick’s spine.

Rick had managed to grow somewhat used to Negan’s childish nature, the relentless teasing never seeming to die down. Even when the older was confined in prison. It was impressive, really. Ignoring the taunt, Rick grabbed his keys, stepping inside the cell as the door creaked open. Negan’s expression turned gleeful, an amused glint in his eye.

“Finally givin’ in, huh? Knew this day would co—”

Negan’s words came to a sudden halt as Rick grabbed him by the collar, slamming him back against the cold concrete wall, pinning him there with the weight of his body. “You’re coming with us,” Rick growled, his voice low as he leaned close, the words brushing against Negan’s ear. “And you’ll lead us to that outpost.”

Negan’s eyes flicked back, catching Rick’s intense gaze as he felt a rope loop around his wrists, binding his hands securely. A smirk played on Negan’s lips as he recognized the knot. “Real kinky, Ricky. A bowline knot, huh? Takes me back. They taught me that shit in Boy Scouts, you know.”

Even restrained, Negan’s mouth kept running, his taunts flowing without fail. Rick couldn’t resist a jab back. “I find it hard to imagine you as a Boy Scout,” he remarked, adjusting the knot and squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dim cell. “Oh, I was,” Negan huffed, grinning as he felt the pull of the rope. “Bet you were a real cute Boy Scout yourself, huh? Goody two-shoes Grimes.”

Rick felt a dry chuckle slip out before he could stop it, hoping Negan hadn’t noticed. But by the way Negan’s grin widened, he knew he had. But Negan only smirked, letting his eyes roam up and down Rick’s body, defiance in his eyes.

“Ricky,” he practically purred, “you can keep playing leader all you want. But, if only your people knew. If they saw you the way I see you...”

Rick’s brow quirked despite himself, curiosity flaring before he could tamp it down. He hated it, hated the intrigue that pricked at the back of his mind, that questioning look now painted across his face. Rick didn’t need to ask however, as Negan finished his train of thought.

“Like a whore ,” Negan breathed.

Rick’s mouth went dry, his pulse thundering in his chest. His mind flashed back to every brutal fight they’d had, all the times they’d wrestled each other to the ground—Rick on top, fists swinging as Negan laughed beneath him, their faces inches apart. He’d blamed the feeling that twisted in his stomach on adrenaline, on the thrill of the fight. But now, standing here, that mask of denial crumbled. He saw it for what it truly was. Lust .

Negan’s gaze locked onto him, a knowing glint in his eyes. Hands restrained with the bowline-knot, yet he still manages to have the upper hand. He couldn’t help the arrogant smirk that crept onto his expression. “Just give in, prick. You want it just as bad as I do. Maybe even more.”

Negan pressed in, closing the scant space left between them, eyes trailing over Rick with a predatory gleam. He leaned down, pressing his nose to Rick’s neck. The sheriff’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling as he felt Negan’s warm breath grazing his skin. Slowly, Negan began tracing kisses down Rick’s neck, letting his lips press against the sheriff’s skin. Rick’s hand moved up almost involuntarily, fingers tangling into Negan’s hair, once pure jet black now streaked with strands of gray.

Despite his cocky front, Negan couldn’t hide the desperation that lingered underneath. Cooped up in his cell, starved for touch, every brush of Rick’s fingers sent sparks across his skin. He’d wanted Rick since the moment he’d seen him at the lineup; now, finally, he had him, and it felt like ecstasy.

The air around them was charged, heavy with something undeniable. Even without his signature leather jacket, replaced now by a worn, navy-blue button-up, Negan still carried that distinct scent. Woodsy, with a hint of leather— that intoxicating scent that quickly filled Rick’s senses, overriding everything else. Rick let out a shaky breath as Negan’s tongue traced his neck, letting himself sink into that heady scent.

“Negan, please… need you,” Rick stammered, voice low and breathless. Negan’s hungry gaze locked onto him, something dark and primal flaring in his eyes. “Yeah, baby? Go on, then. You can have me.” That was all Rick needed to hear. He tightened his grip on Negan’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss that was deeper, more intense than any he’d shared before. It wasn’t like any kiss he’d ever had—not with Lori, not with anyone. This was something else. Something that changed him in a way he could never come back from

Caught in their haze, Rick managed to push Negan back onto the cot, the savior’s hands still bound behind him. Negan raised an eyebrow, biting back a wolfish smirk as Rick knelt down, fumbling with his belt.

“Look at you, Rick. So damn eager .” Negan’s voice was thick with amusement.

“Will you ever shut up?” Rick shot back, cheeks flushed, realizing he was on his knees between his rival’s legs—Negan Smith, the man he’d fought so hard against, and the man he’d come to feel so much for. His hands moved down, pulling Negan’s boxers down and wrapping his hands around Negan’s cock. Rick pumped his hand a few times before lowering his mouth. The brunette quickly realized that that was easier said than done, as he couldn’t help but gag loudly, tightly gripping Negan’s thighs as a low groan escaped the man above him. He was fucking big .

“Just like that… Always such a good boy for me…” Negan moaned, chest rising and falling as Rick struggled to take it all in. Rick, always a fast learner, began bobbing his head. The obscene sounds bouncing off the walls of the cell.

“Goddamn, Rick… suckin’ my dick like it’s what you were made to do. So good for me, huh, baby?”

Rick’s tear-filled eyes looked up at Negan, lips swollen and eyes glistening. Negan swore he could’ve cum from that sight alone. Rick, gazing up at him with that heartbreakingly sad expression, his brows knit as tears threatened to fall, brunette curls bouncing with each movement.

“Keep goin’, just like that, M’gonna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours…” Negan moaned. But just as he felt himself teetering over the edge, Rick pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting his lips to Negan. Precum still glistened at the tip, and Negan’s face twisted with frustration.

“Shit, this some kinda punishment? Payback for all the crap I put your group through?” Negan tilted his head, watching as Rick began unbuckling his own belt, pushing his slacks down just enough to give Negan access. “Want you inside of me,” Rick muttered, cheeks flushed as he settled on Negan’s lap, aligning himself

Negan’s smirk softened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. The sheriff, Rick Grimes—his rival, and the man he wanted most, was now here, on his lap. Rick was an amateur, clearly, but that only made this more intimate. Negan felt a wave of pride knowing he’d be Rick’s first—and last.

Rick took a breath, sliding down onto Negan’s cock, biting his lip at the stretch. The sting was sharp and Rick’s pace was slow, easing himself to adjust to the length of it all. Negan only watched, eyes hooded with lust.

“ Ffffuck… so damn good, baby. Takin’ it like a pro,” Negan sighed, as Rick’s movements became smoother, pain slowly turning to pleasure.

“Shit, hurts like hell…” Rick groaned, his eyes squeezed shut.

Negan leaned forward, kissing Rick’s neck softly, cooing, “Doin’ so good, baby… takin’ my dick like a good boy.”

And with that, Rick’s pained groans shifted into desperate, needy moans. Wrapping his arms around Negan’s neck, he rode the older harder, both of their moans reverberating off of the cell walls. Without warning, Negan bucked his hips up, meeting Rick’s hips with his own as he bottomed out, pounding harder with each motion.

“And what would your little Alexandrians say, seein’ their fearless leader like this, huh? Gettin’ fucked senseless like a bitch in heat?” Negan taunted, lips curled into a devilish grin. “Keep this up Ricky, and I might just knock you up.”

Rick’s eyes flew open, wide with arousal and disbelief, his cheeks red as he clawed at Negan’s chest, feeling himself reaching the edge. He’d never felt so damn full in his life. The feeling of Negan pistoning in and out of him at a breakneck pace was driving Rick mad. “F-Fuck, Negan… I… wanna cum, please…”

Negan’s grin softened, his voice low and rough. “That’s it, Rick… You’re such a good boy…” He pulled him in for a soft kiss, an action that would’ve been deemed wholesome if not for the way Negan was fucking into him like a madman. “Beg me.”

Rick looked back at the taller man like he’d lost his damn mind, eyes wide. “Wh-“

“I said, fucking beg me, or I’ll leave you here. On the floor all fucked out like a cheap whore for your people to find.”

“P-Please.. Please let me, Negan- Need to cum, need you-“ Rick mewled, babbling on dumbly, feeling light-headed from the relentless pace Negan had set.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”

That was all it took. Rick’s climax washed over him, his moans filling the cell. As waves of pleasure rode over him, Rick steadied himself as best he could, hands tightly grasped on Negan’s broad shoulders as he began riding Negan harder. Rick looked at him, eyes low-lidded, light-headed and dizzy from the pleasure. The sheriff managed to rasp out, voice hoarse from all the obscene noises that have been escaping past his parted lips.

“Please, Negan.. inside, cum inside me. ”

Just like that, Negan felt that familiar twist in his stomach as came inside of Rick, the hot liquid quickly filling the brunette up to the brim as tears threatened to fall from Rick’s eyes. Panting from the climax, Rick slumped against Negan’s chest, head resting on his shoulder as his breathing steadied. Negan’s hand rubbed circles on his back, soothing him. “Did so good, baby. M’impressed.”

“The… the outpost…” Rick mumbled, still dazed.

Then, realization dawned on him. Negan’s hand was on his back. And as he looked closer, he realized—Negan’s hands were free. The rope, once bound tightly in a bowline knot, lay discarded on the cot. Stumbling back, Rick’s legs wobbled as he struggled to his feet, staring at Negan.

Negan gave a cheeky grin. “Careful there. Don’t want you fallin’ over.”

“The knot… You—” Rick started, realization dawning.

Negan laughed. “Knots weren’t your strong suit in Boy Scouts, huh? Not gettin’ any badges any time soon. Don’t worry, nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

Rick glared, but he couldn’t hide the dazed look in his eyes.

Negan smirked, standing up and placing a hand on Rick’s shoulder, holding his gaze. “I’ll lead you to the outpost. On one condition—you let me out of here.” He extended his hand, and after a pause, Rick nodded, dumbfounded, too rattled to refuse.

Negan handed Rick the discarded rope, watching him with satisfaction as Rick’s mind raced. What would the Alexandrians think if they knew? What if someone had heard them? Panic flickered across his face. Luckily for Rick, Negan knows the younger man better than the back of his hand. Ripping from his thoughts, Negan leaned in, whispering into Rick’s ear.

“Relax, Rick. I won’t tattle. Scout’s honor.”