#like to me his waves are like yes hello there sir good to see your soul still has life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joemama-2 · 1 month ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 18.2k (don't kill me) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: I'm dead, ik i said i wouldn’t write again for a couple days but i had a moment of epiphany series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Walking through the long, but suffocating hallways of the office is excruciating for Satoru—it always is. Today, it feels extra excruciating. He’s been out of the office for a few days now, ignoring his business responsibilities and family, he knows he’ll probably face hell today. How painful.

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo.”

“Hello, Mr. Gojo.”

“Nice to see you, Mr. Gojo.”

“Mr. Gojo!”

A voice says, one he clocks as his secretary. He sighs, but continues to walk forward, forcing Aiko to practailly sprint just to catch up with him. There’s stacks of papers in her arms, her cheeks red with a small sheen of sweat painting her skin. And it’s only the start of the day. He almost starts feel bad for her. “Mr. Gojo! Where have you been? I’ve called and texted, I even went to your house and you weren’t there!”

“Vacation.” he says curtly, not breaking his stride. His tone is clipped, his voice devoid of any real emotion, and it’s enough to make Aiko falter for just a second.

“A vacation?!” she exclaims, breathless. “You didn’t even leave a notice! Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve had to field from your father’s office? They were—”

“Livid. Yeah, I’m sure.” Satoru waves a hand dismissively, rounding a corner and heading toward the elevator. Aiko scrambles to keep up, adjusting the stack of papers precariously balanced in her arms.

“They’re expecting you in the boardroom at ten,” she says, her voice slightly frantic. “And Mr. Gojo said if you didn’t show up this time, he’d—”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he interrupts, pressing the elevator button with unnecessary force. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, but his face remains a mask of indifference.

“Yes, but—” Aiko stops herself, hesitating. Her voice softens. “Are you okay, sir?”

For a moment, Satoru freezes. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open, but he doesn’t move. The question hangs in the air like a challenge he isn’t ready to face. “Peachy,” he finally says, stepping inside. Aiko hesitates before following, fumbling with the papers in her arms. Once she’s inside, Satoru presses the number 15, doors soon closing. The ascent to the highest floor of the high rise office building begins. As the elevator begins its rising, the silence is thick and awkward. Satoru leans against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Aiko ventures, breaking the silence. “There’s the overseas partnership meeting at noon, and your parents are waiting to—”

“They’ll wait,” Satoru cuts her off, his tone colder now. “I’m not on their clock.”

Aiko flinches but doesn’t argue. She adjusts the papers again, her gaze darting nervously to him before focusing on the floor. “Mr. Gojo, they seemed very serious today, more than usual. Your mother was even holding back tears, but she didn’t look sad, she looked…angry.”

His mind turns into uncertainty. His mother’s here and she’s crying? Did he piss them off that much? Well, she’s always been quite the dramatic woman. It can’t be that bad. When the elevator doors open, Satoru steps out without a word, leaving Aiko to scurry after him in usual form. The sound of his shoes clicking against the polished marble floor echoes through the hallway as Satoru walks toward his personal office. Aiko struggles to keep up, her footsteps hurried and uneven behind him.

He caresllesy pushes his doors open, going over to plop himself down in his chair behind the desk. Heavily exhaling while ltilting his head back, eyes fixated on the bare ceiling above. Seems like his carelessness is going to catch up with him today. Although he’d rather not deal with anything business related right now, especially his parents, he’s been gone more than he should. He can already anticipate he’ll leave late today, the monotonous voices of the businessmen, the disapproving words from his parents, the headache that will break through around noon, and the lingering, mundane question in the back of his mind of what you and Koji will be eating tonight for dinner. Maybe I should send her some money to eat out, or to buy a few groceries?

However, another thought makes its presence known by her very…unpleasant voice. He almost forget about her.

“Satoru!”

Aiko squeaks as she’s negligently pushed to the side by Himari, some of the papers flying out her hands—to which she bends down to pick it up, giving the other woman an annoyed glance. Himari plops into Satoru’s lap, arms instinctively moving around his neck. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick, baby. I thought something happened.”

Satoru doesn't react at first, his head still tilted back, eyes glued to the ceiling. His jaw tightens ever so slightly, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Himari presses herself closer, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck as she leans in. Her voice softens, pink lips downturning into a pout, dripping with almost a faux sense of concern. “You didn’t answer my calls, Satoru. I thought we were past all this disappearing nonsense. What’s going on?”

Aiko straightens up from the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line as she shuffles the papers back into order. “Excuse me, Ms. Nakamura,” she says tightly, her eyes flicking toward Satoru. “Mr. Gojo has a full schedule today. If you need to discuss personal matters, perhaps—”

“Not now, you,” Himari cuts her off without looking, her attention solely on Satoru. “This is between Satoru and I, not the help.”

Aiko bristles but doesn’t argue, standing stiffly by the door.

Satoru finally moves, letting out a low sigh as he straightens his posture, forcing Himari to shift slightly on his lap. His hands rest limply on the armrests of his chair, making no effort to return her embrace. “Himari,” he says flatly, his voice void of any attempt at warmth. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” She pulls back just enough to look at him, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing. “Too busy to call me? To even let me know you’re alive?” Her voice rises slightly, her frustration barely contained. “You just vanished, and I had to find out from your secretary that you weren’t even in the office!”

His lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “And yet, here I am. Alive and well.”

“That’s not the point!” Himari huffs, her grip on him tightening as if to keep him from brushing her off. “You can’t just disappear like that, Satoru. It’s irresponsible. It’s—”

“Unprofessional? Reckless? Embarrassing?” he interrupts, his tone sharp enough to make her flinch slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. What do you want me to say, Himari? I have my own life too, baby.”

She stares at him, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words come out. For a moment, the air between them is thick with tension. Her expression shifts, the frustration giving way to something colder. “You’ve been acting strange lately,” she says, her tone accusing. “Ever since—” She stops herself, her eyes narrowing. “Ever since last time I saw you.” Himari doesn’t move from his lap immediately, her arms tightening around his neck as if trying to pull him closer. Her perfectly manicured nails graze his skin, and she leans in, her voice then dropping into something softer, more coaxing. “You know I’m only upset because I care about you,” she says, her eyes searching his face. “You can’t keep shutting me out like this, Satoru. I’m your girlfriend, for heaven’s sake. I’m supposed to be the person you lean on.”

Satoru doesn’t respond right away. His head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable as he studies her. The silence stretches on long enough for Himari to shift uncomfortably. His eyes move to hers, the first real spark of emotion flashing across his face. “You have to understand, okay? I’m… going through stuff right now, I just needed a break.”

“A break from me?”

“Himari.” His voice is quieter now, the edge in it is unmistakable, but also resigned. He continues, willing himself to react calmly, “you’re not helping by showing up here unannounced.”

“Unannounced?” she scoffs, her tone sharpening again. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually answered your phone. Or your emails. Or—oh, I don’t know—told me where the hell you were!”

“I needed space,” he repeats simply, his gaze drifting toward the window behind her.

“Space?” she repeats incredulously. “From me?” Her voice trembles slightly, though whether it’s from anger or hurt, even she doesn’t seem sure. “You can’t just disappear without saying anything, Satoru. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have your parents calling me, asking if I know where you are? To have my parents asking why their future son-in-law is MIA?”

Future son in law. That makes his brows furrow, a frown taking place on his face. “I didn’t ask you to answer for me,” he says evenly, his eyes meeting hers again.

“No, you didn’t,” she snaps, pulling back further now. “But you also didn’t give me a choice. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let everyone think I don’t know what’s going on with my own boyfriend?”

“You could have,” he says with a shrug, the corner of his mouth lifting in a ghost of a smirk. “Might’ve been easier.”

Her jaw drops, and for a moment, she looks genuinely stunned. “Are you serious right now? You’re impossible, Satoru. Absolutely impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he says lightly, but there’s no humor in his voice.

She gets up abruptly, smoothing her Valentino Garavino dress with quick, agitated movements. “This isn’t funny,” she says, her tone colder now. “You think you can just brush me off like this? Like I don’t matter? I’m the one who’s been by your side all this time, Satoru. Me.”

He sighs. “Just stop, please.”

“I’m just saying,” Himari presses on, her voice a little too sharp, “I’ve been dealing with this mess all on my own, while you’ve been out who knows where—doing who knows what—and now I’m supposed to just pretend everything is fine? That’s not how this works.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Satoru says with finality, his patience running thin. “I didn’t ask you to sit here, waiting for me, wondering where I’ve been. I needed a break. A chance to breathe.”

“From me?” she asks again, disbelief written across her face.

He decides to concede. “Yes,” he says quietly. “From everything. You wouldn’t understand.”

Himari falters for a moment, her face flickering with a mixture of hurt and frustration. “And I don’t matter enough for you to tell me why?”

His gaze softens, just for a second, but it quickly hardens again. “I don’t need to explain myself, Himari.” He looks away from her, not trusting himself to speak without snapping. There’s a quiet but heavy tension hanging in the air.

“I thought we had something,” Himari says after a long pause, her voice quieter now, though the hurt still lingers in her tone. “I thought I meant more to you.”

“You do,” Satoru replies, the words sounding almost empty, even to him. “But right now, I need time to sort things out. Can you understand that?”

She glares at him for a moment longer before letting out an exasperated huff. “Fine. Fuck it, ignore things like you always do.” She grabs her bag, turning on her heel. “But don’t think I’m just going to sit around waiting for you to figure things out. You owe me better than this, Satoru.” She storms out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, leaving Aiko awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Satoru remains frozen in his chair, staring at the empty space she left behind. He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face as his mind drifts back to the other matters weighing on him. The silence feels suffocating, and even though his thoughts want to wander to her—to you—he forces himself to focus. But something lingers, something unsettled that he can’t shake.

Aiko clears her throat, stepping forward cautiously. “Um… should I reschedule your morning meetings, sir?”

Satoru leans back in his chair again, closing his eyes briefly. “No,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… give me five minutes.” Aiko nods, backing out of the room and closing the door softly behind her. Alone now, Satoru exhales heavily, the weight of the morning and what’s to come settling over him like a thick fog.

Jesus Christ. Can I just have one day without everyone breathing down my fucking neck?

“And so, this is why my team and I believe it’s prevalent to keep things neutral, but cordial with the Nexus Group.” The head of the negotiation team, a sharp-dressed man in his late forties with a voice as dry as the monotony of the topic at hand, clicked through another slide of the dull PowerPoint presentation which casted faint shadows over the darkened boardroom. The screen displayed a web of connections and partnerships that Nexus had with other firms, none of which particularly interested Satoru.

Neutral and cordial. Two words he had no patience for today.

He slouched slightly in his chair, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of the table. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses—his mother would’ve had a fit if she saw him disrespecting the board by doing so—but he felt the familiar strain behind his eyes nonetheless, holding back a heavy sigh.

“Mr. Gojo?”

The sound of his name snapped him out of his haze. He blinked, realizing the room was waiting for him to respond. All eyes were on him, some expectant, some wary. “Hm?” he hummed, sitting up just enough to look like he was paying attention.

The negotiator cleared his throat. “Your thoughts on maintaining a neutral stance with Nexus, sir?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on the projector screen, though he wasn’t really seeing it. The weight of everything—the meeting, his parents waiting to speak with him, you and Koji constantly in the back of his mind—made it impossible to focus. He just wishes these imbeciles could make a single decision without confiding in him first. Finally, he sighed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think…” he began, his voice softer than usual, almost detached, “that we’ve been through this already.”

The negotiator hesitated. “Well, yes, but we wanted to ensure the approach aligns with your vision—”

“My vision?” Satoru interrupted, his tone bordering on tired amusement. He dropped his hand and glanced around the room, his expression almost blank. “My vision is that we don’t waste time overthinking what Nexus might do. If they’re going to cause problems, we deal with it. If they’re not, we move forward. Simple.”

A few people exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued; they know better. “Understood, sir,” the negotiator said, his voice quieter now.

Satoru didn’t reply, turning his gaze to the window instead. The faint reflection of the room in the glass blurred with the skyline beyond. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly cared about one of these meetings. The discussion carried on around him, voices blending into a low hum. Every so often, someone would glance his way, but he didn’t react. His thoughts drifted, heavier and heavier, to the inevitable confrontation waiting for him after this meeting. He sighed slowly, shifting in his chair. The tension building in his chest had been there for days, clawing at him, and this—this pointless back-and-forth—only made it worse.

“Satoru,” Nanami’s voice cut through the fog, quiet but firm, “want to wrap this up for today?” Satoru blinked at him, then at the rest of the room. Everyone was waiting, polite smiles masking their unease. He straightened a little, though it felt like dragging himself through water

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Let’s revisit this later.” The meeting adjourned, and as the others filed out, Satoru stayed behind, staring blankly at the table. He knew he couldn’t avoid the next part of the day forever, but for now, he just wanted to sit in the quiet, even if it was only for a moment.

Nanami stays behind until the last man leaves, taking this moment to face his colleague with his usual bored—but calculated gaze. “What’s up with you? First, you go AWOL for days on end, and now you come back and look like you don’t know about a single thing that’s happening. That or you don’t care.”

“I never truly do,” Satoru replies, swiveling.

Nanami shakes his head, running a hand through his blonde locks. “Seriously, Satoru. Can you just fix up your act for the next few days, at least?”

Satoru raises a thin, white eyebrow. “Next few days, hm? Why, what’s happening in these next few days?” He uses air quotes.

“For fuck’s sake,” Nanami groans, arms crossing. “You forgot?”

Satoru tilted his head, feigning thought, though the blankness in his eyes betrayed his apathy. “Hmm... enlighten me.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “The annual board dinner, Monday evening. The one where you’re expected to charm the investors and keep them from pulling out of their contracts. The dinner that your father has been planning for months.”

Satoru hummed, his head falling back against the chair with exaggerated dramatics. “Oh, that dinner. Right. The one where I play puppet for a bunch of old men who care more about profit margins than people.”

Nanami didn’t rise to the bait, though his gaze hardened. “The dinner where your family’s reputation is at stake, Satoru. It’s not optional, and you know it.”

Satoru swung his chair in a slow circle, his long legs stretched out as if the conversation wasn’t happening. “Guess I should dust off my charm, huh? Or maybe I’ll just stand there and look pretty—that usually does the trick.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “This isn’t a joke. You’ve already caused enough waves by disappearing last week. If you don’t show up, or worse, if you show up like this…” He gestured vaguely at Satoru, encompassing his disheveled demeanor. “…then don’t expect your father, especially your mother to forgive you anytime soon.”

Satoru stopped spinning, his chair facing Nanami now. He rested his elbow on the armrest, propping his chin in his hand. “You sound like her, you know. Should I start calling you ‘Mom’ too?”

Nanami rolled his eyes, clearly done with the conversation. “Do whatever you want, Satoru. Just don’t screw this up.” With that, he turned and walked towards the doors. Stopping for a second and giving one last thought. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to stop running from your responsibilities, it’s catching up with you.” Then, the sound of the door shutting behind him follows, leaving Satoru alone in the silence once more.

For a long moment, Satoru stayed where he was, the room empty except for the faint hum of the projector. He stared blankly at the table, his mind a tangle of thoughts he didn’t want to undo. He let out a heavy puff of air, the sound filling the silence. “Yeah,” he muttered to no one in particular. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He shakes his head, the density of Nanami’s words settling over him like a heavy cloak. The idea of the board dinner—of facing his parents, the investors, the endless expectations—made his chest tighten. But even that wasn’t the heaviest thing on his mind. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His finger hovered over the screen, debating whether to send a message. Whether to ask you if you were okay, if Koji had eaten, if you’d even want to hear from him. Instead, he locked the phone and tossed it onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. For now, all he could do was sit in the quiet and try to pull himself together before the next storm hit.

Nanami’s right, it’s catching up to him.

“Where is that little bastard?”

“Mrs. Gojo!”

“Where is he?”

“I-I believe he’s still in the—”

The doors abruptly opening causes Satoru’s head to swivel in the direction of them. He almost wishes he just sink into a hole. The face of his mother, looking pretty damn pissed off, is glaring at him. A familiar look to her son. He still doesn’t know what he did wrong—besides ignoring the business for a week. Still, she’s that upset? “You,” she points a red nail in her son’s direction, to which he stands up. “Get your ass in your father’s office, now.”

“For what?” Satoru asks, though he’s already making his way to her. He then yelps out in surprise when his mother reaches her hand up and pinches his earlobe between her two fingers. “Ow! Mom! What the hell?!”

“Shut it, boy.” She snaps out, hauling his ass down the corridor to his father’s office. The employees watch on, eyes wide with curiosity and surprise as their boss is practically getting manhandled by his own mother like he’s a child all over again.

“Seriously, Mom, let go!” Satoru hissed, trying to pry her fingers off his ear without much success.

“You don’t get to make demands today, Satoru,” she snapped, her grip tightening. “Not after the mess you’ve made.”

“What mess?!” he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as she yanked him forward.

“Oh, don’t act clueless. You’re in enough trouble, don’t you dare add stupidity to the list,” she shot back.

By the time they reached his father’s office, Satoru was basically limping from the awkward gait forced upon him. His mother flung the door open with so much force that it banged against the wall. His father, seated behind his imposing desk, barely glanced up, though the faint crease in his brow betrayed his irritation. “Ah, the prodigal son,” his father drawled, setting down his pen and folding his hands neatly in front of him. “We were wondering when you’d grace us with your presence.”

“Trust me, this wasn’t my idea,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his ear as his mother finally released him. He straightened his jacket with an exaggerated sigh and flopped into the chair across from his father.

“You’re lucky I didn’t drag you here sooner,” his mother said, slamming the door shut. She crossed her arms and went to stand beside her husband, her sharp gaze fixed on her son.

Satoru rolled his eyes. “Alright, what’s this about? I already know you’re mad about last week. Can’t we just skip to the part where you yell at me for being irresponsible and I promise to do better?”

His father didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into a drawer, pulled out a folder, and slid it across the desk. “We’re not here to rehash your usual antics, Satoru. This is about something far more… shocking.”

“What’s this?”

“Open it.” His parents say in firm unison.

Satoru frowned, his carefree demeanor wavering as he picked up the folder. He opened it lazily, but his body went rigid when his eyes landed on the photograph inside—a picture of him, arms wrapped around Koji, with you standing to the side, your expression tender, smiling. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the sudden tense silence suffocate the room.

“What the hell?” Satoru whispered, his mind racing.

His mother’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Care to explain, Satoru?”

For once, he had nothing to say.

“I….” he gulps, fists clenching around the photograph. His jaw ticks, brows furrowing in the middle. “Where did you get this?” Satoru’s voice was low.

“We could ask you the same,” his mother snapped, her tone icy. “Who is that child, Satoru?”

Satoru doesn’t answer, instead hyper-fixating on the picture. His father didn’t wait for him to respond either. “We had to hire someone to track you down after you disappeared. Imagine our surprise when they came back with this.” He gestured to the photo.

He looks back at his parents, meeting them with an equally deathly stare, blue eyes bouncing off one another. “You’ve been fucking spying on me?”

“You gave us no choice,” Akane responds, upset with her son’s tone. “You disappeared, we were worried, and now—” she huffs in disbelief. “Now we come to find out…this! What is this, Satoru?”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” his mother counters.

Her son’s eyes turn dark, and anger beginning to rise up beneath his flesh. Willing himself to calm down and not snap. He looks between his father and mother, not even sure what to say at this moment. First, he’s pissed they sent someone to watch and follow him, second, how did he not notice? And third, they know. They fucking know. He’s barely figuring shit out on his own and now his parents are involved in the mix.

Yamato reels in a long breath, standing up from his chair. He walks out from behind his desk and stops in front of his carbon copy. “Satoru, who is that boy?”

A rhetorical question, it has to be. They just want him to admit it. They know who it is—who he is to Satoru. They’d be blind if they didn’t. Satoru gulps, biting the inside of his cheek before slowly responding. His words are hushed and careful, but filled with pride. “My son.”

Akane huffs quietly from her spot. “Oh my god.” She runs her hands through her hair, taking a seat in her husband’s chair, shaky hand fanning herself.

Neither son nor father looks at her, continuing to practically look into one another’s soul. It’s funny, he thinks. Two fathers face to face. If this was a different situation, Satoru probably would have made a snide remark about his old man looking hilarious with his wrinkly frown. The latter would then battle and say he’s not wrinkly.

But this isn't a different situation. This is a moment steeped in tension, every second thick with the weight of unspoken truths. The air feels like it's pressing down on Satoru’s chest, and the silence between them stretches unnervingly long. Yamato doesn’t break eye contact, his gaze cold, cutting through the room like a blade. "Your son," he repeats, as though testing the words in his mouth, as though the very utterance holds the power to shatter everything Satoru thought he knew about his own life.

Akane's nervous laugh breaks the heavy stillness. "I can’t even... this is just—" Her voice falters, the shock settling into a mix of disbelief and growing anger. She stands up again, pacing behind the desk, as if the movement might release the pressure building in her chest. "You’ve been hiding this? From us? All this time, Satoru?"

Satoru’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. He wants to lash out, to unleash the storm building within him, but he forces himself to stand tall, to mask the inner turmoil. His pulse is loud in his ears, the rush of blood roaring through him as his parents' words sink into him like cold nails.

But it’s Yamato’s next words that really cut deep. "You’ve been living a lie. And now it seems, so have we." Yamato’s voice is calm, but the edge is there, like a blade just under the surface, ready to slice through the fragile veneer of Satoru’s carefully constructed world.

Satoru looks down at the ground. “You guys don’t understand, I…I just found out too.”

His mother whips her head in his direction. “You what?!”

“What the hell do you mean just found out?” His father adds, in even more disbelief and confusion.

Satoru takes a slow breath, his shoulders tense as he looks up at them, meeting their incredulous stares. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he’s caught between the desire to explain everything and the overwhelming urge to stay silent, to protect the fragile piece of truth he’s only just begun to wrap his mind around. “I didn’t know,” he mutters, the words sounding foreign even to him. “I didn’t know I had a son. Until about a week ago. All of this… it’s new to me too.”

His parents stand still, processing the revelation, but the shock on their faces quickly shifts into something darker. Yamato’s expression tightens, a storm brewing behind his cold eyes. Akane's mouth opens and closes as if she’s trying to find the words, but none come. "You’re telling me," Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and menacing, "that you just found out about your own son? How does that make any damn sense?" His voice cracks on the last word, the authority and power he’s wielded for so many years suddenly slipping, revealing an underlying fury that Satoru has rarely seen.

Satoru looks away, his voice strained. “It wasn’t my choice.”

Akane's face flushes with anger, her hands shaking as she grips the edge of the desk. “This—this is absurd! We don’t even know this child!” Her voice rises in frustration, but Satoru isn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes are focused on the printed photograph still clutched tightly in his hand—the child that isn’t just a stranger, but a reflection of his own blood, staring back at him from that moment he hadn’t even known to be real.

Yamato steps closer, his gaze narrowing as he tries to force the puzzle pieces together. “You just found out… And yet, you're so protective of this child that you didn’t tell us as soon as you found out? What, you expect us to believe you’ve been kept in the dark all this time?”

Satoru’s fists clench, every nerve in his body screaming to either stand his ground or walk out. But this conversation—this confrontation—is unavoidable. He swallows hard, speaking through the tension in his chest. “I’m not lying,” he says, his voice firm, though his hands tremble. “I only learned the truth just recently..” The room falls silent. Yamato stands there, his expression unreadable, but there’s something shifting in his eyes. Something dangerous.

Akane walks over to snatch the picture out of Satoru’s hands, pointing to your figure. “Is this who I think it is?’

He nods without a second thought.

“Jesus Christ!” Akane throws her hands up, walking back to the desk. “I thought—since when—I thought you two broke up years ago, Satoru! She’s had your son this entire time?!”

His parents remember you—quite vividly, actually. The young, and sweet, but out of the league for their son. They remember the way you’d walk into a room, quiet but full of something they couldn’t quite put their finger on—strength hidden beneath the surface, even if you never showed it outright. They remember the way you’d smile shyly when they’d speak to you, eyes bright with a warmth they hadn’t seen in anyone in years. To them, you were everything they never imagined for their son—too sweet, too grounded, too otherworldly for someone like Satoru.

They remember the first time they met you, how you’d seemed so out of place in their world. They'd been skeptical at first, unsure of how you’d fit into the carefully curated life they’d built for their son. They knew Satoru, with all his charm and charm and reckless pursuit of every distraction, was always destined for someone like Himari, someone who could navigate the glitzy world they lived in. So of course, when they first heard of you, they were hesitant—maybe even disapproving. They advised Satoru to end things with you quickly, but their son was always stubborn and did things way.

You came into the picture, with your quiet resilience and soft smile, and for the first time, they saw something in their son they didn’t recognize—vulnerability. Something about you brought that out of him. And that terrified them. They thought you were the kind of woman who could have his heart in a way no one else could. They didn’t know if that was a good thing or a dangerous one. Now, looking at the picture in front of them, that same woman stands on the other side of it, framed by the memories of everything that went wrong. And in the background, a child—their grandchild—who they never even knew existed.

As charming as Satoru is, you were the first girl he brought home. With this came the first time he came to his father for ideas on what girls like for their birthday, the first time they accidentally walked in on you and Satoru in a compromising position, and the first time they heard–-consoled their son after a major heartbreak.

The first and only time, actually.

Yamato’s voice is like ice, cold and calculating. “You finished things with her, Satoru. You let her go, and you let her leave with your son. How did you have not one clue about her pregnancy?”

Akane, still shocked, looks between her husband and son, her face pale. “You were too caught up in your own damn life to notice, weren’t you? Too busy with everything else to see the consequences of it all. I thought you were having safe sex!”

Satoru grimaces slightly, guilt twisting in his gut. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she had him. I didn’t even know until now.”

His parents exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable. Then Akane speaks, her voice sharp and cutting. “Does it matter? Does it matter that you didn’t know? What’s worse, Satoru? That you let her get away with it, or that you didn’t even care enough to find out sooner? A responsible man makes sure nothing like this happens, especially a man of your status.” Satoru can’t answer. He can’t give them what they want to hear.

Nobody says anything for longer than Satoru finds comfortable. His father leaning against his desk and rubbing a tired hand over his greying stubble. His mother continuing her dramatics, downing some water and muttering something about how she feels faint.

Finally, Yamato speaks once more, with finality in his tone. “Bring them to us.”

Satoru, immediately on the defense, shakes his head. “No, I’m not having you two chew her out and scrutinize them. They don’t deserve that.”

“No, but what we do deserve is a solution to this…” his father wants to say mess, but with a look at his son, he decides against it. “A solution. This…this changes a lot of things, Satoru. Fuck.” He sighs.

Satoru’s chest tightens at the word “solution,” as if his father is already calculating how to fix what he sees as an inconvenience, a mistake to be swept away. His hands clench into fists, but he holds his ground, knowing this conversation is about to take a turn he’s not prepared for. “I’m not having you two tear into her or my son. They’ve been through enough.”

Yamato doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t show any sign of backing down. He only looks at his son with that same icy expression. “You think I care about how you want things, Satoru? I’m telling you, this changes everything. You’ve been playing around with your life, our lives, and now there’s a child involved. You think we’re just going to let this go?” He pauses, sighing deeply as if the weight of this situation is finally starting to sink in for him, but the resentment still lingers in his voice. “This... this situation, whatever you want to call it, has consequences. And you don’t get to hide behind her or the kid forever. This isn’t just about what you want anymore.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “I’m not hiding behind anyone. I’m doing what’s right, even if you don’t agree with it.”

Yamato’s eyes darken, his gaze like ice, and his voice drops lower, more calculated. “You’re not doing anything, Satoru. Not yet. You don’t have a choice anymore. This changes everything. You’re going to fix this. You’re going to fix it. You’re a grown man, the heir to my legacy, and a father now apparently, so you damn well better start acting like it.”

Akane stays silent for a moment, her eyes wide as she watches the exchange, but the tension in the room grows unbearable. Finally, she speaks, her voice quieter, yet filled with frustration and disbelief. “This... this is going to affect everything. What the hell were you thinking, Satoru?”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up from deep within him. “I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t aware. But I’m not going to let you two dictate how I handle this. I’m not going to let you bully her and my son into some... I don’t know... some solution that doesn’t even make sense.”

His father’s words press down on him like a vice, and for a moment, Satoru can’t breathe. It’s not just about his son, it seems—this is bigger than that. His legacy. His future. His family. It’s all crumbling, and the pressure of it all suffocates him, the walls closing in as he tries to find the right words, something to push back against this tidal wave of expectation and control. But there’s nothing. No words that can change what’s been said. Satoru clenches his jaw, his hands trembling at his sides. He’s had enough of this, of the coldness in his father’s eyes, of the way his mother’s stare cuts through him like a blade.

“Fine,” he grits out. “Sunday. I’ll tell her to meet me at my place. But the second—and I mean the very second you two start raining it down on her, on my son, I’m kicking you both the hell out. You’re right, dad. I am a grown man, I am the heir, and I am a father. So I’ll start by protecting what’s mine—my family.” The word feels a little foreign on Satoru’s tongue. But he needs to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Sure, this is still pretty much because you couldn’t man up and tell him, but now that he’s here and involved, he’ll help. In any way he can. And that starts with making sure his parents don’t treat you like shit.

“Sunday,” Yamato repeats. “Seven sharp.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect.”

“Sure is.”

Satoru turns on his heel, heading for the door, but not before he shoots his father a final, burning glance. "And don't think for a second that I'll let you use my son as some kind of leverage in this mess. You cross that line, and there will be hell to pay."

Yamato watches him leave, his expression unreadable, but his eyes cold with something unreadable. Akane, still fanning herself, watches the exchange with a mix of disbelief and frustration, but says nothing. The air in the room thickens, a silent understanding hanging between the three of them. Satoru slams the door behind him, the force of it vibrating through the walls. As he steps into the hallway, the weight of the situation settles on him like a stone. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, his jaw set.

He'll do whatever it takes to protect you and Koji. Even if it means standing against his own parents. The idea feels strange, foreign even, but it’s the only way forward now.

This is his family.

And he’ll burn the world down to keep them safe.

Walking Koji back home from school that day, he’s chatting your ear off about the cool bugs he found on the playground that day. As you walk beside him, Koji's excitement is almost contagious. His small voice is animated, recounting every little detail about the bugs he discovered—how the ladybug was red with black spots and how he tried to catch a dragonfly but it flew away too fast. You smile softly, nodding along to his rambling, your eyes flicking down to his eager face.

“Sounds like you had a good day today, baby.”

“I did! I love school so much, Mama. Mr. Ito says I’m the smartest kid in class.”

You grimace at the mention of his teacher. You’ve luckily been able to miss him when dropping Koji off and picking him up today; but it still doesn’t deter from the fact that you’re uncomfortable that man is teaching your son, around him and many other children every day. You entertain the idea of switching schools, but you don’t think that’s possible. The other closest school is a forty-minute walk, a fifteen-minute drive. And you can’t afford that. Not to mention the tedious paperwork you’d have to go through. As long as his teacher keeps his advances in tow and doesn’t try anything funny with your son, you think you can stand seeing his face every day for a few more months until the school year ends.

The two of you make it to the lobby of your complex before you see Mr. Sato leaning against the counter, talking with the receptionist. Your lips purse, steps faltering for a slight moment before making your way over to him. “Hello, Mr. Sato.” You visibly see him stiffen; which confuses you. “I…I’d like to discuss the money issue with you.”

He gulps down his coffee, almost hesitantly turning to face you. “...Ms. Y/N.” The way he greets you feels even more weird. Why is he suddenly acting so scared? Weren’t you just threatening my ass a few days ago? Never mind that. You shake your head, clearing your throat. “I wanted to tell you that I don’t really…have the money right now. I know it’s an inconvenience for you and a burden on my part, but I’m willing to do whatev—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, hand waving in the air.

You stop, head tilting. Did you hear him right? “I-I’m sorry?”

“I said no need. I already got the money.”

Now you’re really confused. Brows twitching as a wave of cautiousness passes over you. Is he tricking you? What the hell do you mean you got the money? “You…what? But, how? I didn’t….”

“Your husband paid it yesterday.”

“What?! I don’t have a husband.”

“Oh,” Mr. Sato tilts his head, looking down at Koji. “well, his father. He paid it yesterday.”

It’s like a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over you. Huffing out in disbelief, confusion, and annoyance. “Wait, wait. He…paid it? All of it…?”

Mr. Sato nods, then shifts on his feet. “And then some, I’ve applied it to next month, so you don’t have to worry about that..”

A knot forms in your stomach. You can’t process it. Why would Satoru do that? The money, the rent, the fact that he paid it all without saying a word. Without asking you first. You’re supposed to be handling this on your own, not relying on him to bail you out. But the reality of it settles in, cold and heavy. He knows you’re struggling–-pretty damn badly too. Your heart races, a strange mix of emotions stirring within you—confusion, anger, humiliation. "I didn’t ask him to do that," you mutter, your hands trembling slightly as you try to steady your thoughts. Is he going to confront you about this too now? Say how horrible of a mother you are that you can’t keep a shitty apartment? Is he building up reasons to take Koji?

Mr. Sato shrugs, then turns away from you once more. "Doesn’t matter. It’s done. He seemed pretty intent on making sure everything was covered for you.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. The idea of Satoru swooping in like some kind of white knight, fixing things without a word, twists something deep inside you. Why? The simple question hangs there, unanswered, heavy in the air between you. You glance down at Koji, who’s still holding your hand, oblivious to the tension building between you and Mr. Sato. “Thanks, I guess,” you say, your voice distant, almost hollow. It feels like the only thing you can say, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

Mr. Sato offers a quick nod. “No problem.”

As you and Koji walk away, your mind races, the question lingering in the air: What does Satoru want from all this? And more importantly, why the hell didn’t he tell you? It feels strange and almost invasive to have him literally pay your rent for you. Does he think he can just come in and save the day? Does he think I need him that bad? Why didn’t he tell me?

It feels like a violation, in a way. Like he’s come in and taken control of something that was supposed to be your responsibility. It’s hard to swallow. The pride you’ve worked so hard to hold onto, the independence you’ve clung to, feels shattered with just a few actions and no explanation–-and with such little ease. As you walk into your apartment, you feel the weight of his decisions hanging over you like a dark cloud. Why couldn’t he just let you handle things? You’re blatantly reminded of just how different you two are, of how much better he can provide for Koji than you can.

The problem isn’t just about the rent. It’s about him stepping in without a word, without so much as a “Do you need help?” Does he think I can’t do this on my own? You feel a sting in your chest, like a raw nerve exposed, and the overwhelming urge to scream at the world for being so damn complicated. Koji’s chatter fades into the background as you make it to the door, choosing to sit down on the couch, and pulling your knees up to your chest. What now? You’ve never asked for help from Satoru before, and now it feels like he’s swooped in and taken control, expecting gratitude in return. But how do you even thank someone who’s come in, solved your problems without asking, and left you feeling like you were never meant to stand on your own? What’s he trying to prove? You don’t know if you’re angry at him for doing something you couldn’t or angry at yourself for feeling so vulnerable, like a little piece of you just slipped away. The worst part is that you don't know how to feel about it all.

Thankful?

Happy?

Annoyed?

Angered?

Which of those is valid enough for this situation?

The minute you’re on break at your second job, you pull out your phone and call the devil himself.

He picks up a ring later.

“Hel—”

“What are you doing?”

There’s a pause. “Um…in the office?”

“No, you idiot. I mean what the hell do you think you’re trying to prove here?”

“...that I’m a good worker?”

Jesus, could he be even more stupid? “You paid my rent for me?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear him thinking, trying to figure out how to spin this. "Yeah, I did," he finally admits, and there's no apology in his voice, just plain confession.

"Why?" The question comes out sharper than you intended, a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Why would you do that without saying anything? Do you think I need your help? Is that it? Just swoop in like a damn knight in shining armor?"

He doesn't immediately respond, and you’re almost certain he’s frowning on the other end. Finally, his voice breaks through the tension. "Listen," he starts, a little too casual for your liking. "I really don’t understand why you’re angry about this, okay? Your landlord came over when you were at work and said you needed four thousand dollars. I just didn’t want you to worry about it, and I didn’t want Koji to see you stress over something like that. It’s not a big deal, it’s handled."

You roll your eyes, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Satoru. This isn't about whether or not I’m stressing or angered over it. It's about you barging in and making decisions for me, like I can’t handle my own life."

His sigh comes through loud and clear, like he’s just too tired to deal with you right now. "I didn’t make the decision for you, I just—"

"—Paid my rent without asking? You don’t get to play the ‘I’m just helping’ card here! You could’ve at least talked to me first. Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it from me?"

There’s a shift in his tone, like he’s getting a bit more fed up as the conversation continues. "I didn’t think it was necessary. You’ve been so damn silent about everything. I don’t know if it’s pride or what. But I get it—believe me, I do. But sometimes, pride gets in the way of... I don’t know, survival?"

"Survival?" You nearly choke on the word, incredulous. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of game to you? You think I can’t survive on my own?"

The silence stretches between you two, thick with unspoken things. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. "Look, I did what I did because I wanted to," he says quietly, the weight of the words heavier than anything he’s said so far. "But if you’re angry about it, then...I won’t do it again. It wasn’t meant to make you feel like... like you can’t handle things. I just thought, maybe it’d be one less thing for you to worry about."

You’re quiet for a long moment, still processing his words, the mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. "You’ve got a funny way of showing care, Satoru," you mutter, and there's a bitter laugh on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, I know," he admits, voice tinged with regret. "I don’t always get it right." A small, reluctant part of you softens at the sound of his sincerity, but the rest of you remains hard, unresolved. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts. "You just—you have to tell me in advance about these things. This is a big deal to me.”

He nods, though you can’t see it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel inferior, I promise.”

You close your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "Just... don’t do it again."

He’s quiet for a moment, and then—"Alright, alright. I’ll back off, Y/N. But you will tell me next time if you need help, understood?"

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the unexpected, but familiar warmth spread through you at his words. "Understood," you mutter, rolling your eyes again even as you can feel the beginnings of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

It’s a mess. But at least he’s trying. At least you are.

You’re about to say your goodbye when he stops you. “Hey, um…so I was actually going to call you too.”

“Oh,” you reply, leaning your back against the wall. “Okay well, did you need something?’

“Yeah, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

He pauses again, mulling over how to exactly give this to you easily. “So…my parents found out. About Koji.”

You don’t say anything. The words hang in the air between you, and you feel a chill run down your spine. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s joking. But the seriousness in his voice tells you that this is no joke.

His parents found out.

You push yourself off the wall, your hand instinctively curling into a fist at your side. "What do you mean, found out? How? When?"

He lets out a long, heavy sigh. "They’ve had someone watching me for a while now because I haven’t been to the office. Apparently, the guy showed them a picture of me with Koji and you, and they…yeah."

The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. "Great," you mutter, voice tinged with disbelief. "So now they know. What, are they gonna show up at my door and demand answers too?"

There’s an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line before Satoru responds, his voice tight. "It’s not like that. They won’t do anything... yet. But they want to meet Koji, see him, and... they want to talk to you. They’ve got a lot of questions."

Your chest tightens. You feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Talk to me? "I’m not doing this. I’m not putting my son through that," you snap, your tone colder than you intended. "Why would they even want to meet him? He’s not some... pawn in their game."

"I know," Satoru says quickly, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. "But they’re my parents, and they’ve always been controlling. They think they have a right to know him, to know everything. I’m just telling you because I didn’t want you to be blindsided."

You take a slow, steadying breath, trying to push down the rising anger and panic that’s swirling inside you. This is bad. This is really bad.

"They want to see us?" you ask, your voice quieter now, more composed.

"They do" he answers reluctantly. "But you don’t have to. It’s your choice, okay? You don’t have to see them again if you’re not ready."

You close your eyes, your mind racing through the possibilities. You didn’t want this—didn’t want your life tangled up in his family’s politics and power games. But now, it feels like there’s no escaping it. "I’ll think about it," you say, voice soft but firm.

"Take your time," he replies, his tone gentler now. "Just know that... I’ll be there, no matter what you decide."

A part of you wants to believe him, wants to trust that he’s not just playing at being the hero. But another part of you is cautious, knowing the situation is far from simple." Okay," you finally say, the word heavy on your lips. "When did they wanna see us?"

“Sunday. At seven, my place.”

“Fuck,” you heavily breathe out, using your hand to sift through your hair. “That’s…that’s really soon, Satoru.”

“I know, I’m sorry. They just told me all this today.”

You bite your lip, conflicted. You know it is an inevitable thing to see his parents again. But it’s been so long and times have most definitely changed. You’re not sure if you’re exactly ready for that. But would you only be prolonging this?

“Just let me know by tomorrow—preferably,” Satoru adds.

“...okay. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

There’s an awkward gap between you two. Not sure if you should keep this conversation going. It almost feels like your first time calling each other. The silence stretches between you both, thick and uncomfortable. You can almost hear the uncertainty in his breath on the other end of the line, as though he’s unsure what to say next, or perhaps he's waiting for you to take the lead. You want to say something, anything, but the words feel stuck in your throat. There’s so much you could say, but none of it feels right. You’re not sure what he expects from you, or what you expect from him. Finally, you break the silence, your voice quieter than usual. “I’ll think about it. But...this isn’t just something I can decide on a whim.”

“I know,” Satoru responds, his tone more serious now. “I’m not rushing you. I just... I just want to make sure you’re okay with everything.”

You exhale sharply, not sure if that reassures you or not. The weight of the situation feels heavier now, but there’s still a part of you that wants to believe he’s being genuine. That he’s trying to do the right thing, even though you know deep down that the stakes are much higher than just making it through a conversation with his parents. “Right,” you reply, your tone quieter, more resigned. “I’ll... I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Take care,” he says, the words soft but weighted with meaning.

"Yeah. You too," you mutter before ending the call, the finality of it leaving a lingering tension in the air.

As you slide your phone back into your pocket, you let out a long breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You're not sure what to expect anymore, not from Satoru, not from his family, and certainly not from yourself. But one thing is certain: this is only the beginning, and you wonder if you’re ready for what comes next. All you know is that you have to protect Koji at all costs. And now, it seems, you have to face the consequences of Satoru’s family knowing the truth.

The next day is bright and sunny, contrasting with the chill of the wind that threatens to break your skin out in goosebumps if it weren’t for your thick layers. Snowfall is supposed to begin soon, Koji told you after learning it in school. He’s excited, which makes you happy to see. He’s always loved snow, you’d make snowmen, throw snowballs, and make snow angels. You have many pictures stored in your phone of him with the white mess of cushion around him, or him holding a snowflake, anything. You take a lot of pictures of your son, mundane or not. Memories you’ll forever cherish so you can look back on them when he’s older.

Walking through town with your little boy for a little day out. The money you were saving up for the rent is now being put to use for some sweet treats and little action figures. The sound of Koji’s laughter fills the crisp air as he hops excitedly from one foot to the other, clutching the small action figures of Spiderman and Ironman in his hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His excitement is contagious, and for a moment, the worries of yesterday feel distant, pushed away by the simple joy of spending time with him.

You pass by a few familiar shops, your eyes catching on window displays that seem to taunt you with their prices. You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Koji pulls you towards a small toy store. The lights in the window sparkle with the holiday season, and for a brief moment, it feels like you could stay in this little bubble, far removed from everything else—Satoru, his parents, and the looming uncertainty about what comes next. But even as Koji chatters away beside you, excitedly telling you about the toys he's picked out, the weight of your situation still lingers in the back of your mind. You glance down at your son, trying to focus on the here and now. You’re doing this for him. He deserves moments like these—moments where life feels simple, filled with nothing but happiness and warmth.

“Mom, look!” Koji pulls your attention, his face beaming as he holds up a small snow globe he found in the shop window. The glittering snowflakes inside the glass swirl around, and you can see the way his eyes light up. “Can we get it?”

You smile, reaching down to gently ruffle his hair. “Of course, we can.” As you walk into the store, the bell above the door jingles, and for a second, it feels like you’re stepping into another world. It’s warm, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air, and it’s so different from the cold outside. For a brief moment, everything feels manageable. Just you and Koji, making memories.

But then, the thought of the phone call from Satoru yesterday creeps back into your mind. You promised you’d think about it, but now, with Koji so happy beside you, you wonder: Can you really keep up this facade? Can you keep pretending like everything is okay when you're not sure where any of this is headed? You shake your head, trying to push those thoughts aside for the time being. Right now, there’s only Koji, only the two of you enjoying a quiet moment of peace in a world that feels anything but peaceful.

“Let’s get that snow globe,” you say softly, even though you know it’s a small treat in the grand scheme of things. But maybe that’s all you can give him for now. Small moments of happiness.

After your purchases, you two make your way to a stand selling hot chocolate. A delicacy that your boy absolutely loves. As you’re paying for the small drink, opting to share with Koji, a familiar voice catches your ears. You turn to look in the direction of the loud voice.

“Thank you all for coming out today, I know it’s a little chilly. But we’re having many fun activities planned, with prizes. Who’s excited?”

The small crowd whoops in agreeance.

With interest, you’re guiding Koji over to the voice, tilting your neck up. You see Suguru standing with a microphone in hand, smiling kindly. The tip of his nose is tinted red, adorning a shirt that says, "Building futures, one child at a time." You recognize it as the slogan on his business card that he gave you.

It’s been a while since you last spoke to him or saw him, the last thing you remembered was him finding out your personal information while you were broken up with Satoru all these years. A frown pulls at your lips, but it’s hard to keep it up when young children rush up to him. Shouting “Mr. Geto!”

You’ve always known Suguru was very good with children, but seeing him now in his element feels wholesome. Cute, you think.

“Mama, that’s your friend. Do we go say hi?” Koji asks, sipping his drink.

For a second, you hesitate. Fearing it’ll be awkward, but you decide it wouldn’t hurt. So, with a nod, you two are walking through the crowd and to Suguru.

As you make your way through the crowd, you notice Suguru’s easy interaction with the kids. They surround him, tugging at his sleeves and laughing as he kneels to their height, his smile never faltering. The sight of him in his element makes you feel a strange mixture of warmth and hesitation. He’s clearly a natural with kids, and it’s hard not to admire how comfortable he seems, especially after all the tension that has hung between the two of you.

When you finally reach him, Suguru notices. His eyes widen slightly before he straightens up. A soft smile forms on his face, and he straightens his shirt with a little chuckle. "Well, look who decided to show up." he says, his tone light and friendly, almost as if there’s no time at all between now and the last time you spoke. “Hi, Koji,” he greets, his voice warm as he crouches down to your son’s level, who’s holding a drink in both hands and looking up at Suguru with wide eyes.

"Hi," Koji replies enthusiastically, his eyes bright. “What are you doing here today?”

Suguru laughs, his gaze flicking back to you for a brief moment before he answers. “I try to help however I can. It’s all about giving back to the community, especially for kids like you, Koji. You’re the future.” He winks at your son, causing him to giggle and squirm a little from the attention.

You can’t help but smile at the interaction, but the knot in your stomach tightens. It’s hard to shake off the awkwardness of your previous encounters with Suguru. You’re not sure what to say now, especially since Koji is so at ease with him. Suguru shifts his attention to you, his expression gentle but knowing. "How’ve you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?" His tone isn’t pressing, just an easy question, though you sense the unspoken weight behind it.

You nod, still caught in the familiarity of his presence, but unsure of how much to reveal. "Yeah, it’s been a while." You pause, taking a breath before adding, “So, what’s all this?”

“Fundraiser, we hold one every month,” Suguru explains with a warm smile, his voice carrying an easy confidence. “We do one every month. All the proceeds go to local programs for kids. Things like scholarships, school supplies, and community events. It's a way to give back, especially to kids who might not have access to these kinds of opportunities otherwise."

You take in his words, surprised by how much he’s dedicated to this cause. "I didn't realize you were this involved," you admit, watching as more children approach Suguru, clearly looking up to him.

“Yeah," Suguru chuckles, glancing at the growing crowd. "I really believe in it. This is what I want to do with my life now, and it’s been a rewarding journey. Kids are the future, you know? It's just about giving them the right tools to grow."

You can’t help but be impressed. Suguru always had ambition, but hearing him speak so passionately about his work hits differently now. There’s a quiet weight to his words, as if he’s found his purpose. “You've come a long way,” you say, not able to hide the slight smile tugging at your lips. "I'm glad to see you're doing something meaningful."

Suguru waves it off, his smile a little sheepish. "It’s really the kids who make it fun. I’m just happy I can help make something like this happen." There’s a brief pause between you two, the familiar tension that used to hang in the air now replaced by a quieter, unspoken understanding.

Suguru looks at you. “But, thank you, Y/N. It feels good. And it’s nice to see someone who remembers where I started." The familiarity of the moment hangs in the air between you, the unspoken history still lingering. You remember the time when things were simpler, before everything became complicated and messy. Suguru was always someone you could rely on, someone who was easy to talk to.

Koji pulls on your sleeve, his voice bright. "Mom, can I play the game over there?" You glance over at the game booth he’s pointing to, noticing it’s one of those dart-throwing games. You’re about to nod, but Suguru cuts in.

"Let me give you both some tickets," he says, already reaching into his pocket. "For the games. My treat." You’re about to protest, but Suguru’s gaze stops you. “Really, it’s no problem. It’s the least I can do after everything.”

You swallow the retort on your tongue, a mix of gratitude and reluctance bubbling inside you. “Alright, thanks,” you say quietly. He hands you the tickets with a smile, his demeanor still easygoing.

As you two are walking, watching Koji play games, he decides now’s the time to actually talk. “Y/N, I’m sorry about—”

“You don’t need to apologize again,” you cut him off, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “I heard you, so don’t worry.”

He purses his lips. “Are you sure? I mean, I understand if you’re still put off, I would be too.”

You watch Koji and go silent for a moment. His words lingering in your mind before you switch the subject. “Did Satoru tell you I spoke with him?”

“Oh, yeah,” he scratches at his head. “How was it? I heard it from his perspective, but what about yours?”

“Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.” Suguru nods, not wanting to pry anymore. Your vague answers are enough. “His parents found out too.”

“What?” he asks in bewilderment. “T-They did? How? What did they say?”

“Satoru said they sent someone to watch him because he was missing from work for a while. They weren’t very happy, and they want to see Koji and me tomorrow.”

“Shit,” Suguru shakes his head. “Are you going to?”

“I feel like I have no choice but to. It’s not like I can avoid this forever.”

“You always have a choice, Y/N.”

You glance at him, his words catching you off guard. “Do I, though? They’re his family, Suguru. And like it or not, Koji deserves to know where he comes from.”

“I get that,” he says, crossing his arms, his expression thoughtful. “But just because they’re family doesn’t mean they automatically get to dictate everything. You have a say in this too. Don’t let them push you around.”

You nod, appreciating his words but still feeling the overwhelming pressure of the situation. “I’ll try. I just...I don’t want to make things harder for Koji.”

Suguru places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re his mom. As long as you’re looking out for him, you’re doing what’s right.”

His reassurance is a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty you’re swimming in. You give him a faint smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Suguru.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft but genuine. “And if you need backup, you know where to find me.”

You laugh lightly, the tension in your chest easing for just a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Walking home after that day out, putting Koji to take a nap, cleaning up a bit, you send Satoru a text.

“We’ll come. Send me your address.”

You arrive to Satoru’s penthouse with Koji in tow thirty minutes early. Koji was wowing the entire train ride here, even now as he looks up at the large and tall building before him, his eyes are wide with child-like amusement. A part of you feels bad that he’s getting this excited over buildings and nice lights, but hey, you would be too if all you were accustomed to was the other side of town.

The two of you step out of the cab, Koji’s small hand in yours. It practically glows under the evening sky, reflecting the city lights like something out of a movie. Koji’s awe is palpable, his mouth slightly open as he marvels at the sheer size of the structure. “Mama,” he tugs on your hand, his eyes not leaving the building. “Do people actually live in places like this? Like...all the time?”

You chuckle softly, though there’s a slight pang in your chest. “Yeah, Koji. Some people do.”

“It’s so cool,” he breathes, craning his neck as far as it can go. “Do they have their own rooms? And toys? And candy?”

“Probably,” you say with a light laugh, gently guiding him toward the entrance. “But don’t get too excited, okay? We’re just here to visit.”

As you step inside, the pristine marble floors and sleek, modern design hit you instantly. The lobby is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive-looking furniture scattered about. Even the air feels different—cleaner, cooler, like it’s filtered or something. A well-dressed doorman greets you with a polite nod, and you awkwardly return it, not quite sure how to act in a place this fancy. Koji, however, is too busy looking around, his eyes darting from the chandelier to the grand piano in the corner. “Mama, look! That’s a real piano! Like the one on TV!”

“Yeah, I see it,” you murmur, trying to stay focused. The feeling of being out of place creeps up on you, but you push it aside. This isn’t about you—it’s about Koji. When you reach the elevator, you press the button for the top floor, and the doors slide open with a soft chime. Stepping inside, Koji bounces on his heels, still brimming with excitement. “Do you think it’s like the movies where the elevator talks?” he asks, his voice full of wonder.

You smile, ruffling his hair. “We’ll see, bud.” The elevator glides upward so smoothly that you barely feel it moving. Koji’s little gasp of excitement when the numbers light up makes you chuckle again, though your stomach tightens as you near the top. You realize Satoru’s space is on the highest floor. Thirty seconds later, the doors open to reveal a sleek, private hallway with only one door at the end. “This is it, Koji,” you say, taking a deep breath as you step out of the elevator. “Are you ready?”

Koji nods enthusiastically, gripping your hand tighter. “Ready!”

You walk toward the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. It feels heavier with every step, but you keep moving forward. Reaching the door, you hesitate for a moment, then press the doorbell. A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Satoru, looking as casual as ever—with a hint of nervousness in a loose sweater and jeans. His bright blue eyes light up when he sees Koji. “Hey, you two made it.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. Koji, welcome to my place.”

Koji’s jaw drops as he takes in the massive living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “This is your house?!”

Satoru grins, picking him up. “Sure is, kiddo. What do you think?”

Koji looks up at you with wide eyes. “Mama, this is way cooler than the buildings outside!”

You laugh nervously, squeezing Koji’s hand. “Yeah, it’s...something.”

Satoru walks around his place, watching the two of you with a small smile. “Make yourselves comfortable. And hey, I promise this’ll go smoother than you think.”

“You’re saying that now,” you mutter with a grimace.

“C’mon, just trust me. I’m here.”

The phrase causes you to clear your throat awkwardly, a sudden memory hitting you—one you push down quickly. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Want some water? Juice?”

“No juice for him, he had a candy on the way here.”

“But Mamaaaaaa,” Koji whines, dragging out his words. “Please, I want some of Papa’s juice.”

“I have all kinds of juice, little man. Red juice, pink juice, green juice.”

“Green?!”

“Mhm.”

“I wan—”

“Satoru.” You say, firmness in your voice. Arms crossing. “I said no juice.”

Satoru’s smile falters as he registers your intonation, his eyes flicking to yours like he’s trying to decipher something. The room feels heavier suddenly, like the air between you is crackling with something unspoken. “Alright,” he says softly, straightening up. “No juice. Got it.” The tone of his response catches you off guard, almost making you feel like you’d scolded him instead of your son. You shift uncomfortably, glancing at Koji, who’s now frowning. Satoru sets him down, to which he gets easily distracted by the shiny skyscrapers outside, rushing over to the large floor to ceiling windows.

Satoru steps back, running a hand through his hair. “I was just trying to—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a dry laugh. “Never mind.”

You exhale, feeling a pang of guilt but unsure why. “It’s not... Look, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts in, his tone lighter but his eyes saying something else. “You’re right. Mama’s rules. I’ll stick to them.”

There’s an awkward pause, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for... what, exactly? He catches you looking, and for a brief, jarring moment, you’re back in a place you swore you’d moved on from—a place where his charm felt like safety and his presence could undo you. Your stomach is already feeling warm. You snap out of it quickly, clearing your throat. “Thanks. For understanding.”

Satoru tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering. “Always.”

It feels like a strange promise, one that hangs in the air too long before Koji interrupts, shouting, “Mama! Look, it’s snowing!”

The tension breaks, and you turn to the window, grateful for the distraction. “Wow, it is,” you say, forcing a smile.

Behind you, Satoru’s voice is quiet but pointed. “Snow’s always a fresh start, right?”

You don’t respond, unsure if he’s talking about the weather—or the two of you. Focusing on the snowfall, Satoru takes this moment to side-glance at you. He almost curses himself for wanting to comment on how pretty you look. Not now. But for some reason, his hand is inching up as it it’s about to move a strand of hair out your eye, until you look at him. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He coughs out, quickly bringing his hand to his nose and wiping at it. Real smooth, Satoru. “Yeah, sure. Down this hall to your right.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he can’t resist watching you leave, eyes moving down to your ass. His stare lingers even when you’re out of sight. The sound of Koji’s voice bringing him back down to Earth.

“Why do you stare at Mama like that?”

“What? I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you lying, Papa?”

“Kid…”

“But it’s normal, right? You and Mama are married.”

God, his innocence is too sweet for Satoru. How exactly can his explain your relationship to the young boy? Not now at least and especially not without you. Hopefully when his son learns the truth one day, he won’t grow to somehow resent him. Or you. Satoru’s throat tightens at Koji’s words. The boy's wide, trusting eyes make the situation ten times harder than it already is. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to think of a response that won’t shatter Koji’s innocence or dig himself into a deeper hole. “Well, uh…” he starts, stalling. “Sometimes grown-ups have… complicated relationships.”

Koji tilts his head, frowning in confusion. “What’s complicated mean?”

Satoru lets out a nervous laugh, ruffling Koji’s hair. “It means… not everything is simple, kiddo. Like math problems that don’t make sense at first.”

Koji wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like math.”

“Exactly,” Satoru says with a relieved grin. “Neither do I. Let’s stick to the fun stuff, okay?”

“Okay, they’re here.”

You take in a deep breath, holding Koji closer to your chest as he sits on your lap. Satoru’s dining room chairs feel too stiff for a situation like this. He’s standing—pacing, and checking his phone constantly after his mother just texted him they were coming up. The tension in the air is suffocating. You grip Koji just a little tighter, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over his soft hair as a way to ground yourself. The stiffness of the chair beneath you feels like punishment, but maybe it’s just nerves crawling into every corner of your body.

Across the room, Satoru paces like a man trying to walk off a bad decision. His long legs carry him back and forth in front of the large windows, the city lights behind him casting an almost surreal glow. He checks his phone again, the screen lighting up briefly before he shoves it into his pocket with a frustrated sigh. You bite your lip, trying not to snap. “You pacing like that isn’t helping.”

He stops mid-step, glancing at you with a mixture of guilt and irritation. “You think I don’t know that? They texted ‘coming up’ five minutes ago. How long does it take to ride an elevator?”

You arch a brow. “You live on the thirty-fourth floor.”

He huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t change the fact that this feels like the longest elevator ride in history.”

Koji, oblivious to the storm brewing between the adults, tilts his head up at you. “Mama, why are you squishing me?”

“Oh,” you blink, loosening your grip immediately. “Sorry, baby.”

Koji giggles, wiggling to get more comfortable. “It’s okay. Papa’s the one acting funny.”

You glance at Satoru, who’s resumed pacing, his jaw tight. “Yeah,” you mutter, half to yourself. “He’s definitely acting funny.” Before either of you can say more, there’s a sharp knock at the door. It’s like the room collectively holds its breath. Koji perks up curiously, his innocent smile the only light in this tense moment.

Satoru freezes, staring at the door as if it might explode. “Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “Here we go.”

He crosses the room in a few long strides, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a split second before he pulls it open. And there they are. His parents, Yamato and Akane Gojo, standing like an imposing force just outside the threshold. Yamato is tall and sharp-eyed, his tailored suit as immaculate as his demeanor. Akane, with her perfectly styled hair and the kind of elegance that demands attention, steps in with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the room feels even smaller. Their eyes sweep over you and Koji, pausing on the boy who’s now hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Hello,” Akane says, her voice smooth but laced with something unplaceable. “I believe we have a lot to discuss.”

You gulp and nod as they come closer, Satoru closing the door and quickly making his way to sit beside you. “Nice to see you two again.” The phrase feels hollow and fake on your tongue, but what exactly should you say to them?

Yamato hums as he and his wife sit across from you and Satoru. Their eyes instantly landing on Koji who regards them with a nervous, child-like expression. “This is the boy.”

“Yes,” Satoru answers. “Koji.”

Yamato’s gaze lingers on Koji, sharp and calculating, as though he’s analyzing every detail of the child. Koji squirms slightly under the weight of the attention, pressing closer to you. You instinctively wrap an arm around him, protective. Akane's expression softens just a touch, but it’s subtle—barely enough to ease the tension in the room. “He looks like you, Satoru,” she comments, her voice light but with an underlying edge.

Satoru shifts beside you, his posture stiff. “Yeah, well… genetics and all.”

You glance at him, suppressing an eyeroll. Now’s not the time for his half-hearted attempts at humor. Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “And how long has this been… a secret?”

The question feels like a slap, even though you were expecting it. You glance down at Koji, unsure of how much to say in front of him. Satoru clears his throat, leaning forward slightly. “Look, I didn’t find out about Koji until recently,” he admits, his tone surprisingly steady. “And as soon as I did, I took responsibility. That’s why we’re here now.”

Yamato’s eyes flick to you, cold and questioning. “And you? Why keep this from him?”

You feel your heart drop, but you refuse to let their judgment pin you down. “I had my reasons,” you say, your voice firm despite the way your palms are sweating. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but I did what I thought was best for my son.”

“And best for Satoru?” Akane interjects, her tone calm but pointed.

You hesitate, unsure how to answer without sounding defensive. Before you can respond, Satoru leans back, his arms crossed. “Enough,” he says, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t about blame. It’s about Koji. He’s here now, and I want him to be part of my life. That’s all that matters.”

Kaede studies him for a long moment, then shifts her gaze back to Koji. “What about the boy? Does he even know who we are?”

Koji glances up at you, his small fingers clutching your sleeve. “Mama?” he whispers.

You force a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. These are… your grandparents.”

Koji’s eyes widen, curiosity replacing some of his nervousness. “Grandparents? Like in the stories?”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle softly, breaking some of the tension. “Yeah, kid. Like in the stories.”

For a moment, the room feels lighter, but Yamato’s expression doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll need to decide what role we play in his story,” he says firmly, his eyes narrowing. Your stomach twists, and Satoru’s jaw tightens. This conversation is far from over.

Satoru leans forward, his hands clasped on the table, tension rolling off him. “You don’t get to ‘decide’ anything, Dad. Koji is my son, and I’ll handle how he fits into this family.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “You think this is just about you, Satoru? This affects all of us—the Gojo name, our reputation. Your actions have consequences, and it’s my job to ensure they don’t spiral out of control.”

You bristle at his tone, your arm tightening around Koji. “Koji is not some ‘consequence,’ Mr. Gojo. He’s a child. Your grandson. Maybe you should start there instead of worrying about appearances.”

Akane's gaze flickers between you and her husband, her expression unreadable. “Yamato,” she says softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Let’s not lose sight of what’s important here.” Yamato exhales sharply, but he doesn’t respond, his eyes still locked on Satoru.

“Look,” Satoru says, his voice lowering. “I get it. This isn’t ideal for you. But Koji is here, and I’m not going to let him feel like he’s some kind of mistake. He’s part of this family whether you like it or not.”

There’s a pause, heavy and suffocating, before Akane finally speaks. “He’s very handsome,” she says, her tone softer now. “I see the resemblance to you, Satoru. But I also see… her.” She glances at you, and for the first time, her expression isn’t cold. However, that doesn’t mean there’s complete acceptance there. She looks down at her lap with a sigh. “If only it was someone of higher class.”

You and Satoru equally clench your jaw, eyes narrowing.

Koji looks up at you, then at Satoru. “Papa, what’s a ‘rep-…repu-shun’?”

Satoru chuckles despite himself. “It’s something adults worry about too much, buddy. Don’t worry about it.”

Yamato’s lips twitch as if he’s holding back a retort, but Akane cuts in before he can speak. “Koji,” she says gently, leaning slightly forward. “Do you like sweets?”

Koji nods, his nervousness giving way to excitement. “Yes! I like cookies and cake and green juice!”

Kaede smiles faintly. “Maybe next time you visit, I can make some cookies for you. Would you like that?”

Koji’s face lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”

You’re caught off guard by the gesture, but you stay silent, observing the interaction. First she bashes your status and now she’s trying to be the sweet grandma. Satoru shifts beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly. It’s so subtle you almost miss it, but the warmth lingers, grounding you. You could’ve sworn he lets it linger there purposely.

Yamato clears his throat, “You understand your role as heir, yes, Satoru? Having children of your own to pass the legacy down to,” he says, his tone clipped.

You purse your lips. “I don’t want my son being involved in something he doesn’t have to.”

“This isn’t a choice,” Akane responds. “Although this situation is less than savory, and although we woul’ve much preferred a…different candiate. This is the reality, so your father and I have made arranagemnts.”

“You’re not doing anything without telling Y/N or I first. This is our son.” Satoru firmly says.

Yamato cuts in. “Listen, Satoru. This is just how it is. When he grows older, it’s up to you to teach him and pass things down. As of now, no one will know. Not the public, the company, investors, nobody. Until we, ourselves, have a better hold on things, this will stay under wraps.”

Your stomach twists as the weight of their words sinks in. Their calculated demeanor, their cold insistence—it’s everything you despised about this family’s way of thinking. Koji isn’t just some pawn in their grand scheme; he’s your child. “Under wraps?” you snap, unable to hold back. “What does that even mean? You expect us to keep Koji’s existence a secret like he’s some kind of dirty little secret? That’s not what I want for my son, I want him to have a normal and innocent childhood.”

Akane's expression barely falters. “This is for his protection, as well as the family’s reputation. The world can be… cruel, especially when it comes to matters like this. It’s better to control the narrative than let it control us.”

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms. “Control the narrative? He’s five, Mom. He doesn’t need a narrative. He needs parents who care about him, not a PR strategy.”

Yamato pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, Satoru. You’re the heir. Koji is your responsibility, but he’s also ours. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

“I understand just fine,” Satoru fires back, his voice rising. “You want to shove him into your world of deals and power plays without even thinking about what’s best for him. I’m not letting that happen.” You glance at Satoru, momentarily caught off guard by his unwavering stance. It’s rare to see him so serious, so resolute. For a moment, it feels like you’re on the same page, like you’re fighting together.

Yamato sighs, his patience clearly thinning. “We’re not trying to take him away from you. But this family operates a certain way, and if you’re unwilling to cooperate—”

“I’m unwilling,” you cut in sharply, surprising even yourself. “Koji isn’t going to grow up like this. He’s not going to be molded into some heir, forced to carry on legacies he didn’t ask for. He’s going to be a kid, my kid, and that’s all. If the time comes when he’s old enough to make that decision, then so be it. But right now…we are making it.” Satoru looks at you, a look of almost tender reliance in his face. He can’t help but scooch closer to you in his chair, the back of his knuckles grazing your thigh as he focuses back on his parents. You don’t move, for some reason.

Akane narrows her eyes, her perfectly composed exterior cracking ever so slightly. “You may not understand the gravity of this situation, Y/N, but you’ll come to see it’s for the best. We’re not here to argue with you. We’re here to ensure the future.”

“And I’m here to ensure my son’s happiness,” you bite back, standing as your chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “If you can’t respect that, then maybe we’re done here.” The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Koji, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, hums softly to himself, playing with the edge of his shirt.

Satoru finally speaks, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You don’t make arrangements for Koji without consulting us. This isn’t the company. You don’t get to call the shots here.”

Yamato frowns, standing up as well. Insticvively, Satoru follows, getting in front of you and Koji slightly in a protective stance. Finally, he crosses his arms, looking at the little family before him. Two of them looking exactly the same, for a second, Yamato feels like he’s talking to the past and future version of his son. In a way, he is. “...fine. You two are his parents, then fine. But it is my duty to ensure nothing wrong happens. My point still stands, it’s not wise to reveal Koji to the public eye yet,” he meets your eyes again. “You said you want him to have a normal childhood. Well, you should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. If you know what’s best, you’d agree with me.”

Without another word, Akane follows her husband to the door, and the two leave; the door slamming after them. The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the room, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Satoru uncrosses his arms, running a hand through his hair as he exhales sharply. You glance at Koji, who’s watching the door with a curious expression, seemingly oblivious to the tension that just passed.

“That man,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Who does he think he is, saying that?”

Satoru turns to you, his jaw tight but his voice calm. “That’s just how he is. Always has to have the last word, even if it’s total bullshit.”

You shift Koji on your hip, brushing his hair back softly as your mind replays Yamato’s parting words. You should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. The sting of it makes your chest tighten, but you force yourself to push it aside. “Are you okay?” Satoru asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you lie, though your voice falters slightly. “I’m just…angry. I know we’re not exactly best friends, but he has no right to talk about my decisions like that.”

Satoru watches you for a moment before sighing. “You’re right. He doesn’t. And you know what? Screw him. You’ve done everything for Koji. He doesn’t get to sit there and judge you from his high horse.”

The unexpected sincerity in his words takes you off guard, and for a moment, you can’t meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you murmur, focusing instead on Koji, who’s now fiddling with a string on his shirt.

Koji suddenly pipes up, breaking the tension. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Satoru says, taking him from your arms. “They’re gone. You don’t have to worry about them.”

“Good,” Koji says with a pout. “They were scary.”

You chuckle softly. “They’re just loud, that’s all. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, his gaze flicking to you. “So, what now?”

“What now?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. About them, about Koji, about…everything.” The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded, but for once, it doesn’t feel like it’s just your burden to bear. You meet Satoru’s eyes, and for the first time in years, it feels like you’re standing on the same side of the battlefield. “I guess we figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Satoru nods, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “Together, huh? I like the sound of that.”

It’s not a solution, not yet. But it’s a start. You can see a flicker in Satoru’s expression before he walks with Koji over to the living room. It’s one of hesitance, you understand. He doesn’t entirely forgive you, let alone trust you. But he’s trying, for Koji. This mess happened because you kept your mouth shut, so maybe it’s time you start trying too. You and Satoru are in each other’s lives now, so is there a rush to mend things between you two?

The annual board dinner is just as horrible as Satoru expected. Lavish decorations, stiff small talk, and the overbearing weight of expectations pressed down on him like the overly starched collar of his tailored suit. He’d tried to duck out of it, but his father’s suggestion—which was really an order—left no room for argument. “Smile, Satoru,” Yamato had muttered through gritted teeth when they entered the grand hall. “You’re representing this family.”

So here he was, nursing a glass of expensive champagne that tasted like regret and counting the minutes until he could leave. He glanced around, catching sight of familiar faces mingling and laughing, some of them stealing glances his way with the kind of superficial interest he loathed. “God, this is insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.

Having to charm old men into doing business with his father, flirt here and there with the older, taken women. Smile, smile, smile. For presentation sake.

“Oh, look who it is.”

He groans, looking to the side and being met with the hard and chiseled face of Sukuna. A long term enemy of Satoru’s. Though he keeps it cordial in front of everyone else, he can’t help but engaged in the quiet back and forth. “My number one fan.” Satoru remarks simply, head tilting in a patronzing way.

Sukuna smirked, his sharp features twisting into something smug and self-assured. “Always the comedian, Gojo. I’m surprised you even remember how to crack a joke with how far your head is stuck up your family’s expectations.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched, but his grin didn’t waver. “And here I thought you showed up just to kiss my ass. Flattered, really.”

Their exchange was quiet enough to blend in with the hum of chatter around them, but the tension was palpable. Sukuna, with his sharp suit and predatory air, looked like he belonged here, but his presence was always unsettling. Pink hair that pokes up in a way that just barely reminds him of a certain someone. “I hear the old man’s got you busy charming fossils and bored housewives. Must be exhausting, all that fake smiling. Oh, wait, you’re used to that.”

Satoru’s laugh was light, but his eyes glinted with irritation. “What can I say? Some of us don’t need to rely on intimidation tactics to close deals. Or...whatever it is you call your little power plays.”

Sukuna stepped closer, the faintest hint of challenge in his stance. “Careful, Gojo. You might hurt my feelings.”

Satoru didn’t back down, his posture just as relaxed, his smile just as infuriatingly calm. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, someone’s got to keep you entertained, right?”

Sukuna chuckled darkly, taking a sip from his glass. “You’re lucky this is a formal event. If we were anywhere else—”

“You’d what?” Satoru cut him off, his voice dropping an octave. “Throw another tantrum and lose? You’ve got quite the track record there, Sukuna.”

The older man’s jaw twitched, but he only gave a low, mirthless laugh. “Enjoy your little victories while you can, Gojo. You won’t always have Daddy to clean up after you.”

“No, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Satoru grins, patting the other man’s shoulder as everyone begins making their way to the tables as the speaker is about to begin.

Satoru finds his spot next to his parents, arms crossed and one long leg over the other. His dark suit ruffles as circles his shoulders up and down in a fit on annoyance for the tight material.

The speaker, an older man with graying hair and a polished suit, steps up to the podium, his presence commanding immediate attention. The room quiets as he clears his throat, adjusting the microphone with practiced ease. “Good evening, everyone,” he begins, his voice rich and steady. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed the pre-dinner mingling, and I trust we’re all ready to get down to the business at hand. I won’t keep you long, but I must take a moment to reflect on the state of our industry, where we stand, and most importantly, where we’re going.” He pauses for effect, letting his gaze sweep over the gathered crowd. The eyes of the room are trained on him, but Satoru’s attention is divided, flicking between the speaker and the people seated around the table.

“Now, as we all know, times are changing. The landscape of business, both locally and globally, is evolving at a pace none of us could have predicted just a few short years ago. Innovation is at the forefront, and it is only through strategic alliances and forward-thinking leadership that we can continue to rise above the challenges that face us.” The speaker’s voice carries on with the rhythm of a man used to holding the room’s attention. “This is a pivotal moment, not only for our companies but for the future of the industry itself. It is with great anticipation that we look toward new ventures, new opportunities, and a commitment to excellence that can only be achieved through collaboration.”

A murmur ripples through the room as people nod in agreement, sipping their drinks, seemingly in sync with the speaker’s words.

“We have much to look forward to—be it through acquisitions, technological advancement, or our ongoing partnerships. The work ahead is exciting, but it requires unity, dedication, and a shared vision for what we can accomplish together. As we continue to push the boundaries, we must remember that this is more than just business; this is about legacy.” The speaker’s eyes flick over the audience, and for a split second, he meets Satoru’s gaze, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

“Tonight, we celebrate not only our past accomplishments but the bright future ahead. Let’s raise our glasses to the partnerships that have gotten us this far, and to the many more we will form in the years to come.”

A polite round of applause erupts, and the speaker steps back from the podium, signaling the end of his speech. The chatter begins again, and Satoru leans slightly forward with a soft smirk. “Business as usual,” he says under his breath, his tone light but with an edge of something more.

Satoru follows as everyone raises their glasses for a toast, clinking sounding throughout the large hall. Until, there’s small murmuring. It doesn’t faze Satoru as he sips, but then there’s gasps and whispers that sound like confusion mixed with shock.

Glancing around, there’s folks looking at their phones, talking to one another in a quiet voice, and then…looking directly at Satoru and his parents. His brows furrow. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” His father responds, too busy drinking his glass, even drinking his wife’s.

“This.” Satoru says with finality, jutting his chin up. His father and mother finally pay attention. Noticing the extra amount of attention of them tonight. Satoru spots Sukuna sitting at his table, eyes narrowing as one of his colleagues show him his phone. And then, Sukuna looks up, meeting Satoru’s eyes. Suddenly, everything feels wrong. He can make out the malicious smirk on the douchebag’s face, the laugh he doesn’t even try to hide.

What the fuck?

The Gojos continue glancing around with confusion, Satoru with growing annoyance. Until finally, Nanami briskly walks up to his father. “Mr. Gojo,” he clears his throat. The three turn to the man, Satoru can see a foreign trace of nervousness in Nanami’s demeanor. That’s not like him at all.

Nanami can barely seem to articulate the correct sentence before turning his phone towards the Gojos.

And their blood runs cold, Satoru’s world momenatrily stopping.

It's a news article from Kyodo News+—the headline screaming in bold letters:

"Gojo Satoru’s Secret Love Child Surfaces: The Hidden Son of a Billionaire."

The scream shatters the tension in the air, sharp and filled with raw emotion. Himari’s voice echoes down the halls, a guttural cry of frustration, shock, and betrayal that causes everyone within earshot to freeze. She doesn’t care that her perfectly styled hair is being whipped around as she pushes her way through the staff, her hands trembling in a mix of fury and disbelief. The phone she had been holding moments ago crashes against the wall, the screen cracking as her thoughts spiral out of control. Her breath is ragged, each step fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger as she moves with purpose, her eyes burning with a desperate intensity. “SATORU GOJO!” she screams, her voice cracking as the words leave her lips, the weight of them crashing down on her. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The maids scatter in her wake, unsure of how to respond to the chaos unfolding. But Himari isn’t looking at them. Her focus is elsewhere—on the person who just shattered the carefully constructed world she had built, on the one who, in a single moment, has upended everything she thought she knew.

She doesn’t even notice as she storms past the door to her parents’ private quarters, the sound of her footsteps growing louder with each step. The fury in her chest roars louder than the world around her as she moves toward the only people who could possibly understand the devastation she feels.

It’s not just betrayal anymore. It’s the crushing weight of a life built on lies. And Himari has had enough.

“Pffft!”

“Hey! You just spit on me, you asshole!”

Naoya’s voice rings out, practically shrill with laughter. His excitement is palpable, and it only serves to irritate Toji even more. "Toji! Toji! You have to see this!" Toji’s eyes narrow, his broad arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans back in his seat. The view of Lake Como stretches before him, but it feels distant, almost irrelevant compared to his cousin’s incessant enthusiasm. Vacation my ass, he thinks bitterly, wondering why he bothered to come here in the first place. He sighs, irritation lining his features. "Look at what?"

Naoya, unable to contain himself, thrusts his phone right into Toji’s face, nearly shoving it into his nose. "Look!" he repeats, bouncing on his heels, a look of sheer excitement on his face.

Toji groans, rolling his eyes. “I thought we agreed, no phones while we’re on vacation.”

Naoya ignores him completely, his grin widening. “Oh, trust me, this is worth it.”

With a heavy sigh, Toji finally reaches for the phone, taking it reluctantly. He presses the screen, waiting for the phone to wake up. The moment it does, his eyes meet the image that fills the screen—a photo of his business rival, Satoru Gojo, accompanied by a headline that stops Toji dead in his tracks. His brows furrow, the usual calm expression faltering for a moment. The headline’s words are seared into his brain, and Toji feels a pulse of confusion and something else he can’t quite name. He leans in closer, then back again, as if trying to process what he’s seeing.

"...What the hell?" he mutters under his breath. The image before him shows Satoru with a woman, someone Toji doesn’t recognize, and a child—Satoru’s child, if the headline is anything to go by.

Naoya’s grin only grows as he watches Toji’s reaction. “Pretty wild, huh? Didn’t see that coming from Gojo, did you?”

Toji’s fingers tighten around the phone, his eyes narrowing further. He doesn’t respond at first, too absorbed in the strange mix of shock and calculation churning in his mind. This isn’t just some random leak; it’s clearly orchestrated. “Where the hell did this come from?” Toji asks, finally looking back at his cousin, who’s still watching him with amusement.

Naoya shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t know. Just saw it on a news feed. Looks like Gojo’s got some explaining to do, huh?” Toji just shakes his head, his mind already spinning with possibilities.

He tosses the phone back to Naoya. “You’ve got some sick timing. Let’s see how this plays out.”

Naoya chuckles, oblivious to the wheels turning in Toji’s mind. “You know, you might want to take advantage of this. Could mean something for the company, or at least an edge over Gojo.”

Toji’s lips curl into a slight smirk, but it’s more predatory than playful. “We’ll see, Naoya. We’ll see.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, like nothing’s real. Staring at your TV screen with complete and utter shock, frozen in place. The world around you feels like it’s fading, as if you’re watching everything happen from a distance, disconnected from reality. Your eyes are locked on the TV screen, but you can’t process what you’re seeing—everything is too surreal.

“Hey, that’s me!” Koji happily exclaims, pointing to his young face on the screen, being carried by Satoru. From the looks of it, the picture was taken yesterday, inside Sator’s penthouse. But the picture is from an outside perspective.

The realization hits you like a cold wave. Who the hell took this? The blood drains from your face as your heart pounds even harder. How did they get this shot? Your stomach turns, a knot tightening in your chest. Isn’t this illegal?

Satoru’s name comes out of your mouth like a whisper of panic. “Satoru…”

You can barely hear your own voice over the buzzing in your ears, as your mind races, trying to process what this means. How could anyone have gotten this close? How could someone have been watching? The image on the screen—the calmness in Koji’s face, the warmth in Satoru’s arms—makes your blood run cold. Koji’s innocent voice cuts through again, “Mama, why is it on TV? Are we famous?” He giggles, clearly unaware of the danger that’s now in your midst.

You mouth emits a breathe of air that faintly resembles a chuckle. But you’re not laughing. You’re too frozen in fear to say anything, to even move. You can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong, that the peaceful life you’ve managed to carve out with your son is hanging by a thread. You hold your breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

How many people know about this? How much further can they go?

How much further can you go?

The woman leans back in her chair, the flickering light of her computer screen casting shadows across her face as she watches the confirmation of the transaction appear before her eyes. Her lips curl into a snarky, satisfied grin. It’s the kind of smile that’s dangerous, the kind of smile that tells you she’s one step ahead, and there’s no turning back now.

A low, almost guttural laugh escapes her—deep and malevolent, echoing in the quiet room. The money is more than just a transaction; it’s power, it’s leverage. And the best part? No one even knows it’s her. Not yet.

She pauses, letting the silence stretch out before her next move. She takes a slow, deliberate breath, savoring the moment, then leans forward. “Wonderful…” she whispers to herself.

a/n: i'm sorry if things seemed rushed, chap was getting looong. but enjoy!

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harunayuuka2060 · 9 months ago

Text

MC: *meeting Che'nya's grandfather*

Che'nya's grandfather: ...

Che'nya: How are you doing, Grandpa Nya?

Che'nya's grandfather: *continues to stare at MC*

MC: ...

MC: Hello, sir. My name is MC. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Che'nya's grandfather: ...

Che'nya's grandfather: *gestures to them to come closer*

MC: *walks closer to him*

Che'nya: Grandpa Nya?

Che'nya's grandfather: *holds MC's hand and starts patting it gently*

Che'nya's grandfather: I'm begging you. Marry my grandson.

MC: Huh?

Che'nya: :3

Che'nya's grandfather: My grandson may not be the most charming fellow, and his fashion choices aren't great, but he's a good boy. Yes, he likes to play pranks sometimes, and you're welcome to give him a scolding if he gets out of line.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* How kind of you, sir.

Che'nya's grandfather: ...

Che'nya's grandfather: You're a beautiful child. My future grandchildren will surely be good-looking. *hearty chuckle*

MC: Because of Che'nya, that's for sure.

Che'nya's grandfather: *waves his hand; disagreeing*

Che'nya: Grandpa Nya, are you roasting me? :3

Che'nya's grandfather: Please eat more. *serving MC food*

MC: Thank you, sir-

Che'nya's grandfather: Please call me Grandpa.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles*

MC: Thank you, Grandpa.

Che'nya: Grandpa Nya, where's my food?

Che'nya's grandfather: Yours is on the fridge. Get it yourself.

Che'nya: :3

MC: ...

MC: *has offered to wash the dishes and Che'nya is helping them*

Che'nya: *humming a song*

MC: Your grandfather is a good person.

Che'nya: Right~? I told you he's going to like you nya~.

MC: ...

Che'nya: *looks at them* Are you still not convinced?

MC: ...

MC: I'm trying not to doubt the situation.

Che'nya: ...

Che'nya: *teasing smirk* I told nya that kiss would have resolved this.

MC: ...

MC: It's a ridiculous notion.

Che'nya: Is it~? Or are you afraid it will lead to something else? Hm~? Hm~?

MC: ...

Che'nya: :3

MC: Probably you getting revolted by it.

Che'nya: Just let me kiss you nyaaa... *his tone pleading*

Rook: Ami masque is not here today?

Vil: Yes. They have a date with Che'nya.

Rook: ...

Rook: How do you feel about this, Roi du Poison?

Vil: Nothing. I don't hold their personal life.

Rook: ...

Rook: *chuckles* Oh, Vil. It's my first time to see you making that expression.

Vil: ...

Vil: What?

Rook: *smiles* The ache of losing someone you've come to cherish, now that you've discovered the depth of your feelings for them.

Vil: ...

Vil: Don't make it sound like I was rejected.

Rook: Then let not sorrow cloud your beautiful face, Roi du Poison.

Vil: ...

Vil: Fine. *then receives a message from Neige*

Neige - Viiiiilllll!!!!! You need to see this!!!! q(≧▽≦q)

Neige - *sent a photo of MC giving Che'nya a gentle kiss on the lips*

Vil: ...

Vil: *starts crying*

Rook: R-Roi du Poison?

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst chenya #twst vil #twst neige #twst rook #twst vil and mc series 1

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needforspeed161 · 2 months ago

Text

Hey Admiral

My friend and I were talking about a scenario like this and I decided to write a little something for it. Since Cyclone looks up to Ice so much this would be hilarious to see play out 😂

CYCLONE DOESNT REALIZE ICE AND MAV ARE MARRIED.

Cyclone had it up to HERE with Maverick, constantly correcting him and becoming quite irritable with his “teaching methods” as he called them.

Why on earth a man as revered as the legendary Iceman would request a man as reckless and untamed as Maverick to teach the top pilots in the world at TOP GUN OF ALL PLACES! For what he is sure would be one of the most dangerous, high enemy contact level mission any of these pilots would ever experience in their lives was beyond him.

“Admiral” Ice spoke, taking a seat across from him, Beau stood at attention as the COMPACFLT seated himself before him.

“Evening sir” he spoke, militant as ever.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure” Ice waved a waitress over, grabbing a glass of his classic vodka on the rocks as Cyclone opted for a brandy.

“About Maverick…”

The warm chuckle that spread throughout the blonde, now graying, Admirals chest stopped the three star in his tracks.

“My apologies sir, I wasn’t intending to be comical”

“No Beau it’s not that” Ice took a gentle sip from his drink, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s just that if I had a dollar for everytime one of these dinners or meetings began with ‘so about Maverick’ I could have retired 10 years ago and have two Mercedes in my driveway”

Beau looked at his hands momentarily, unsure of what to say. Soon Tom continued.

“Anyways, I digress, what did he do this time”

Ices softer stare met his colleagues as he took another drink, before looking down at the menu on the soft white table cloth.

“His training methods for the Dagger squadron are….interesting to say the least, unorthodox is the better term.”

“Oh? Do tell”

“For instance, they were supposed to be practicing formations for the bombing run yesterday and I found them playing on the beach like children”

“Hm” Ice grunted softly, paying attention as the waitress came by again, interrupting them.

“Good evening sir” she spoke with a small smile at Tom. “Your usual sir?” Tom nodded

“Thank you Katherine, Beau? Care to order?”

Cyclone didn’t think to hard as to why Ice knew this woman, and frequented this place often enough to have established a ‘usual’. Ice was the COMPACFLT, he probably enjoyed some nicer expensive dining from time to time.

“No green eyes tonight?” She asked, and Tom shook his head. “No my dear, all buisness tonight”

She frowned slightly and put her hands on her hips. “Well darn, please tell him I said hello, I’ll go put your order in gentlemen.”

“I definitely will, Thank you my dear” Ice waved as she disappeared, rounding the corner.

Cyclone decided not to comment, first of all he and Ice were close but not so close as to ask questions about his love life. Let alone the fact that it was apparently another gentleman he often frequented this place with. Who was he to judge, since the DADT repeal and Ice becoming one of the most powerful men in the military, no one could say shit even if they had a mouthful.

“Apologies for the interruption, as you were saying?”

Beau cleared his throat. “Yes, sir, he completely ignored my hard deck perameters and is running these pilots through ridiculous exercises, we have less than a week to have them mission ready…”

Their conversation went on for a couple more hours as they ate, and as they both stood to leave Ices hand found Cyclones shoulder.

“I know Captain Mitchell can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but he’s a brilliant pilot, best the Navy has to offer, I’ve flown with him for many years, and he’s done many things I may not have understood, but he was always reliable, always had his head in the game and always made sure everyone, including me, made it back home safe. Be patient with him Admiral, give him a shot”

Cyclone huffed out in annoyance slightly, but let his shoulders fall. “Yes sir, I’ll do my best”

“Thanks Beau” Tom spoke, dropping the formalities. “And thank you for the company, but I’m a little past curfew and need to get home” Ice winked, Bidding him goodbye and getting in his car to head home.

—————————————————————————

The next day seemed even worse, Admiral Simpson was being driven up a wall, two seconds away from punching the brunette square in the face. If not for Ices encouragement he probably would have by now.

That evening he returned to the ready room to see, SHOCKER! EVERYONE WAS GONE!

Anger rose in his throat, he knew exactly where he was going.

Throwing his truck in park in perhaps the most aggressive way he could, the man, still clad in his khakis and medals, stormed in through the swinging saloon doors of the Hard deck, seeing all of his pilots and one infuriating Pete Mitchell drinking beers and playing rounds of pool.

Laughing, smiling and joking together, if he weren’t so angry he would have liked to admit that it even looked….fun.

“CAPTAIN MITCHELL!” He shouted. As if on cue the music came to a winding stop and all heads turned to look at him.

Pete not looking worried in the slightest.

“FRONT AND CENTER! NOW!”

Handing off his beer to Bradley with a nod, sharing a quiet word with him that couldn’t be made out clearly. He walked towards the angry, taller brunette. As the rest of the gang tentatively went back to playing pool, quietly, as if walking on eggshells.

“Admiral Simpson, sir” Maverick spoke. Smug grin on his face long gone and replaced with a tight line drawn between his lips.

“What in the hell is this?! We have a mission less

Than TWO WEEKS out that requires absolute focus! And before you try and brush this off as one of your bullshit ‘team building exercises’ just know I’m going to look forward to reporting this directly to admiral Kazansky! And-“

“Reporting what exactly to Admiral Kazansky?” A voice spoke, interrupting his statement, as the taller, angrier man turned to see the familiar face returning with two drinks in his hand.

Immediately straightening his posture and clearing his throat. He took in a very casually dressed Tom Kazansky.

“A-Admiral sir!”

“At ease Admiral, so what did Maverick do this time”

His eyes followed the movements of the slightly taller man, coming up to stand beside Pete, handing him a beer.

As Cyclone began to go into what he saw.

“Is that so Mitchell? Little old you did all that?” Ice threw his arm around Mavericks shoulder. Seeing the smug smile return to his lips.

“I can neither confirm or deny that statement” Maverick chuckled.

“My apologies on behalf of my husband Admiral, it seems he wasn’t aware of todays training layout”

Cyclones jaw may as well have been on the floor, throat tightening at a loss of words.

“H-husband sir?”

“Ah!” Ice almost looked surprised.

“How rude of me Admiral, I’d like to formally introduce you to my husband, Pete Mitchell-Kazansky, though for work purposes everyone still knows him by Mitchell.”

Just at this time Bradley walked up behind them.

“Hey dad, pops” he squeezed both of their shoulders and looked at Admiral Simpson. “Admiral”

“Lieutenant” he scoffed in return. Still attempting to process all of this new information.

“Wait so, at the restaurant, the waitress, green eyes is-“

“The one and only” maverick smirked, leaning up to give his husband a kiss on the cheek.

“Now Admiral, if you don’t mind we’d like to get back to our game, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.” Ice invited, gesturing his head towards the rest of the squad.

Cyclones mouth open and closed again. Unsure of what to do next.

“Cmon Sir, first rounds on me, loosen up a little” Bradley smiled, eyes bright and hopeful. As Cyclone turned to the rest of the team, smiling at him as well.

“I guess one drink couldn’t hurt….but I’m kicking your ass at a game of pool first Bradshaw”

As the two men walked back towards the pool tables, newly acquired beers in hand and jokes being flung back and fourth. Maverick pulled ice against his side by his waist. Smiling up at him with big green eyes, clinking his beer against the taller man’s glass.

“This is going to be fun” he smiled.

“Couldn’t agree more darling”

#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #pete mitchell #tom kazansky #hangster #nick goose bradshaw #ron slider kerner #beau cyclone simpson #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw

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blimpintime · 3 months ago

Text

jade green part one

azriel x f!reader

in which Azriel has a personal healer, and she needs to be saved.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: light injuries

unedited

Wandering through this shotty little town looking for shelter as the rain poured you notice a figure hunched over in the alley next to you.

Boots squelched with mud as you turned on your heel towards the groaning figure.

“Hello?” You kind of shout over the pouring rain bouncing off the metal of the roofs around you. “Are you okay?”

A handsome man with blood leaking out of his nose and a hand holding his side. He grunts at you and waves you off.

“You are hurt.” You say and approach him tenderly. “I am not here to hurt you, quite the opposite actually.” You tell him with a small hesitant smile. You clear your throat and remove the hood covering your face cool rain drops now sprinkling down it, “I am a traveling healer. Please let me help you.”

“You don’t even know who I am?” He lets out with a huff of air.

“That’s kind of how this works, sir.” You smile at him and finally reach him. You touch his side with a glow of your hand and he flinches back, his shadows wrapping around your wrists tightly. You raise your hands in awe looking at them, “It is my magic, it shouldn’t hurt too much it might just feel warm.” He looks uncertain and eventually nods his head. You place your hand back over his bloody side and he winces slightly in response, you whisper sorry but continue.

After a few moments pass, you pull your hand back and let out a breath, “There. Good as new, solider.”

He grins at you and clears his throat, “Thank you.” He waits a moment before continuing, eyebrows pinching, “This is dangerous what you do. Walking into alleys? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

You pull your hood back over your head, “Yes well, someone has to do it. Plus, with my magic, I have a pretty good intuition.” You wink and then walk out of the alley, shadows trailing after you.

Later that year, on a mission in the Day Court, Azriel was wandering through a town during sunset when he overheard music. He paused for a moment looking for the source, he turned his head upward to see you sitting on a roof playing the guitar and humming a song.

He disappeared into the shadows to only reappear behind you. Your strumming stops and you glance at him coyly over your shoulder.

If you are surprised you don’t show it, and that for some reason eases Azriel’s nerves.

“Hello, soldier.” Is all you say to him and then go back to strumming a soft tune.

“What makes you think I am a soldier?” He asks you and decides to sit next to you, legs dangling off the roof.

“Hmm, for starters the outfit and weapons.” You respond with eyebrows raised. Your fingers just lightly pluck at the strings of your instrument while the shadows inspect it.

“Can I ask you for your name or is that too dangerous to know?” You ask him.

“Azriel.” He tells you with a shake of his head his shadows resting on his shoulders, you give him your name in response.

“I think soldier has more of a ring to it though,” you say to him, he nudges you with his shoulder and then you go back to playing and humming.

You wake up with bleary eyes and a gasp. The first thing you see is a wooden ceiling and then the smell of herbs and oils. Your head turns to see an old friend sitting next to your bed, asleep mouth slightly open and face pressed against the wall.

You let out a snort and that seems to wake him up. You cover your mouth laughing when he realizes you are awake.

“Are you okay?” He asks you with a voice rough with sleep. You have a wide grin when you nod your head yes.

“Thank you for saving me, Azriel.” You tell him softly. His eyes soften and he reaches for your hand, “Wi- could you tell me what happened?” He asks quietly.

You explain what you could remember which was some thieves approached your small campground and wanted everything you had. When you refused to give them your healers bag that is when you ran and they chased you.

“I had never been to Illyria before, I did not know you were from here.” You tell him.

He shakes his head, shadows twirling around him angrily. “I am sorry your first impression was shit.” You let out a sharp laugh at his crude language.

“It is okay. Unfortunately, I have had much worse,” you say and lay back down on the pillow. You feel much better but there is still a lingering ache in your head. Azriel gets up, you assume to get the healer. You grab his wrist.

“Please, stay,” you whisper almost afraid he might say no to you. Which he never has before.

“Tell me about your life recently.” You ask, more like demand him.

“Hmm, my brothers are mated and happy.” He tells you. You turn your head on your pillow to look at him and notice his eyes look sad. “What’s wrong?” You whisper.

He glances at you and shakes his head. “Nothing, just thinking about something one of my brothers said to me.” You take note that he seems upset about whatever he is thinking about.

“What did he say?” You ask semi-harshly and flush a little when you notice you sound overly invested.

“Just that I need to back off Elain and find someone at a pleasure house.” You balk and snort out a laugh, having no idea who Elain is, you ask.

“Ahh, the famous cursebreaker and her sisters. Okay, okay.” You nod seemingly deep in thought. “But she has a mate?” He winces.

“Yeah, I said something stupid to warrant that reaction. But now they think I am head over heels in love with her.” Azriel says with a grumble, looking down at his hands in exasperation.

“Well are you?” You ask bluntly.

“I thought I was but I think it is jealousy. My brothers are happy and mated to two of the sisters, in my brain it made sense for me to be mated to the third.” You wince but nod understandingly.

“Yeah that it pretty stupid.” He glares at you deadpanned and you grin back.

“All I am saying is, if you force it or look for it in everyone you meet it’ll never happen.” You say tiredly dozing off back to sleep.

Azriel looks at you warmly and brushes your hair off your forehead, when he knows you are deep in sleep he leaves to go to the dreaded family dinner, now feeling lighter than before.

a/n: please let me know what y'all think! thank you for reading!!

#azriel acotar #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fluff #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #soft azriel

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kaahgyuya · 3 months ago

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saving u . ! (FLUFF)

. synopsis ; you get hurt, so kinich saves you.

. warnings/notes ; g!n reader, kinich might be a little and or completely ooc, forgive me.. 😓 he's kinda nonchalant, and no ajaw for this oneshot, and mention of being exposed to drug substance? (oneshot with plot), and reader in this might not be a liking for you! (Reqs are open, so feel free to recommend some stuff of your own!)

REQS. are open!!! (Open until 10/3)

You were always out in the wilderness going out and taking commissions one from another. Whether it'd be fighting, or simply delivering something, you'd always get it done in time.

All of the customers/clients you'd take commissions from, would always have something nice to say about you. That you were always a sweetheart and kindhearted.

Sometimes, your kindness would get you blind, and for this commission you took on, you didn't notice a single thing.

"Ah, isn't that Y/N?" You were passing by Kinich's tribe looking for him until someone called out for you.

"Hm? Hello! What is it that you need?" You turned to them. A slightly older man, maybe up to his 60s or 70s went up to you.

"you take on commissions, don't you?" The old man asked.

"Yes, I do! Is there anything I need to do for you?" You replied in a cheerful like tone.

"Ah, would you mind getting rid of some dangerous foes around the area? It's been bothering me and some of the fellow tribe people." The old man said.

"Uh huh, but first I have to know about the details about this commission, did you put it up on the adventures guild board or anything like that?" You asked.

"I did, but nobody took on the commission so I took it down." The old man looked sad, and you felt bad for him.

"Don't worry, sir! If you give me the details of the commission, then I'll be sure to get it done." You said in a reassuring tone.

"But before that, what's your name?"

"It's Junan." He replied.

"Don't worry Junan, if you have the commission details with you, I'll be able to get it done."

"Yes, yes, I have the paper details." Junan gave you some old paper that had a few rips and tears, and the paper looked quite old.

Some ruin guards and ruin hunters were around the area, that's not good, people can get hurt!

"I see... do you have a payment?"

"Unfortunately no, it was given to me by Kinich."

'Kinich? Huh that's kind of odd. Why would he give out a commission like this?'

"Kinich huh, alright. Do you have the location?"

"It's nearby the entrance, go a little to the left and then go straight. My memory is slowly getting worse by the years. Haha." The old man laughed.

"It's alright sir, well then, I'll take off."

"Thank you, Y/n." He waved goodbye to you and you walked off.

"Why would Kinich give out a commission like that?.. Something doesn't seem right."

"Whatever, maybe he was just too lazy to deal with it?"

You arrive at the place, surprisingly, there's no ruin guards or monsters anywhere. But since there's none, you get a little suspicious.

"I'll just take a quick look around just in case.." you look around the area, getting distracted by the beautiful view around you.

You then wince, something doesn't seem right.

Some horrible smell comes from somewhere, you don't wanna go near it.

You block your nose and mouth and slowly back away.

You then turn behind you to find yourself...

Being ambushed.

A couple of guys suddenly grab your arm and then say something, but that horrible smell/substance made you feel light headed making you feel really weak.

You suddenly see a silhouette that scoops you up before falling to the ground, you feel a gush of air as if you're flying.

You feel so tired that you suddenly...

"Huh?.. where am I?" You looked around you to notice you weren't at the place where you got ambushed, but under some tent.

"You're awake, you were ambushed by some people." You look over to where the voice came, and it was Kinich. He had some bandages with him and a wet towel.

"Owie, that stings." You whined.

"They hurt you pretty badly." You couldn't help but look at his face, and he looks a little guilty.

"I had took on some commission from someone, and they said that—"

"I know." Kinich cut you off.

"Huh? How?"

"I just do." Kinich says, while patching up your wounds. He totally wasn't stalking you when you were taking that suspicious commission from that guy.

"That commission wasn't from me, besides that issue was resolved a long time ago, it was just used to ambush you, or even kill you." Kinich said in a stern tone.

"I had already dealed with the guys so you're fine to rest here. Take as long you need to recover." He added.

You slowly sat up, while wincing at the pain.

"You know, I could've taken care of my wounds even if I did get ambushed." You said while looking over at him.

"Yeah, but there was this drug or substance that would make you pass out and or weak. You could've died."

"But you didn't have to take care of me like this."

"I'm just repaying the price, am I not?"

"For what? The commission I finished for you ages ago?"

"I guess so," kinich said.

You sighed as his hands gently lingered over your arms and body, making sure he patched them right.

"You're doing alright, right? Do you need water?" He asked. Even though his tone wasn't full of emotion, his eyes showed it.

"I'm doing.. fine. My body just hurts all over the place right now." You awkwardly looked away.

"You really didn't have to patch me up, though. Don't you already have stuff to do?" You added.

"I finished my stuff eariler today, so I'm free." Kinich looked up at you.

"Kinich, you know, you really didn't have to. You've already done so much stuff for me, and I don't know how to pay you back."

"It's fine, maybe think of a payment you can pay me back with."

"But you always say that and then just don't care about it after."

"That's because I really don't. For you, I'd do it for free. No need to pay me." He was still kneeled by you, as he looked at your wounds again.

"But really, you didn't have to patch me up, I could've done it myself." You felt pity.

"Sure, I didn't have to patch you up, but I needed to."

"Needed to? Did you mean want to?"

"No, I needed to."

@kaahgyuya 9/29/24 10:10 pm

a/n; lazy writing today, might post smt tmrw if I have my creative juices flowing!! Otherwise I hope you enjoyed this >_<

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin #gn reader #character x reader #kinich x you #genshin impact kinich #kinich genshin #genshin headcannons #genshin oneshots #kinich #kinich fluff #natlan #genshin imagines #genshin impact fluff

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ducktoo · 4 months ago

Text

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

1. New life…as what now?

Note: primary vs secondary acc issue, repost it now to the right place. Enjoy!

Masterlist here

It had been years since Y/n left the relentless grind of trainee life behind him. It was a chapter he thought they'd never revisit—especially not from the outside looking in.

His new life had a quieter rhythm.

No more sprinting to dance practices or losing sleep memorising lyrics. Instead, Y/n had been picking up odd jobs in the entertainment industry—small gigs, freelance work, and most recently, running errands for people still in the idol bubble. Heck, he even finished his mandatory services the moment he left his early days.

Y/n stretched, basking in a rare moment of peace as he sat in a quiet café. The iced Americano sweating in front of him was untouched, but that wasn’t a surprise.

He weren’t really there to drink coffee. More like he was trying to figure out what came next. The timeframe of unemployment is real…

Sure, there were opportunities, but nothing that screamed "this is it!"

Just as his thoughts began to drift into existential territory, their phone buzzed on the table.

"SM CEO."

Y/n’s brow furrowed. SM? What could they possibly want? He hadn't stepped foot in that building since—

No time to dwell. He swiped to answer.

"Hello, sir?"

A crisp, professional voice on the other end greeted them, and Y/n immediately recognized it—the CEO he occasionally met during their trainee days. "Y/n, it’s been a while."

Y/n nodded, as if the person on the phone could see them. "Good morning sir. What’s up?"

"Ah, nothing too stressful. I just want to ask how would you feel about rejoining the team—"

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted, half-joking, half-anxious. "With all due respect, you’re not trying to re-sign me as a trainee, are you? I don’t think my back can handle another round of choreography."

The voice chuckled lightly. "No, no. Not as a trainee. We actually have a bit of a different proposition for you. It’s related to aespa."

"aespa?" That name hit Y/n like a sudden gust of wind.

aespa. The super rookies who had been making waves all over the industry and one of the biggest girl groups leading the 4th generation of K-pop.

And Winter… his mind went there instinctively.

While they still regularly talked to each other, he remembered he was adamant about leaving his past trainee life behind and pursue blue collar jobs. Winter was someone Y/n had trained alongside before she debuted.

Y/n felt a pang of nostalgia—mixed with a little guilt. He didn’t want to be a disappointment to his childhood friend. "what about them?"

“Wait, hold up… what?”

The words felt stuck in Y/n’s throat, awkwardly lodged between disbelief and mild panic. The fluorescent lights above the SM CEO’s office flickered softly, adding to the sense of surrealistic reality. Y/n’s palms felt clammy as the director continued with that calm, almost amused smile, the kind that said, "Welcome to the deep end of the pool—good luck swimming."

“You’re going to manage aespa,” the director said again, this time like he was offering Y/n a cup of coffee, not rearranging his entire life.

Y/n blinked, their mind working overtime to piece together what was just said. “Manage… as in… manage manage?” He tried to keep their voice steady, but the end of the sentence squeaked out a little too much. It didn’t help that the director just nodded, nonchalant as ever.

"Yes. You're aware we're short-staffed, and your background as a trainee means you're already familiar with how the company operates. Their current manager had to step down suddenly due to health reasons, and we need someone to step in on short notice. Someone familiar with the company’s ways and preferably, someone who’s worked with Winter before. That’s where you come in."

Y/n’s heart did a weird flip. Of all the things he had expected—maybe helping out behind the scenes, doing some coordination work—this was not it. Y/n was barely done figuring out their own path, and now he had to figure out the path for one of K-pop’s biggest girl groups?

The panic was rising, but Y/n swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. “B-but, I was just a trainee before this.. I've never took any management courses before?”

The director leaned forward slightly, folding his hands together. “Yet, that experience as a trainee means you know about the idols' health and wellbeing more than everyone else. Everything else you can definitely learn on the job.”

"B-but-"

"And we think it will be better as well considering you and Minjeong auditioned together and got in together."

Ah right, Winter and Y/n were childhood friends. Sure, managing her wouldn't be too hard considering god knows how long they hung out together, but the rest of the members? Just the thought of it made Y/n gulped.

"Don't worry, the other managers will teach you your role. Red Velvet's manager will brief you after our talk." The director stood up, signalling the end of the conversation. “Your first day starts tomorrow. Get some rest tonight.”

Leaving Y/n alone in the room, he thought "…Minjeong will have a fcking field day with this…”

Y/n hadn’t slept a wink. The alarm clock was practically taunting them as it beeped at 6 a.m., the early start not unusual in idol life.

If the old Y/n—back when he was a trainee—had thought the pace of idol life was fast, stepping into a manager’s shoes was like jumping onto a bullet train already at full speed. There was no time to get acclimated, no luxury of easing into the role. Y/n showed up to the SM building the very next morning, and the minute he stepped through those familiar glass doors, the whirlwind began.

"Y/n, good to see you again!" One of the staff greeted them, barely pausing for pleasantries as she handed them a clipboard. "Here’s aespa’s schedule for the next two days. Red Velvet's manager will teach you today, but from tomorrow onwards, it’s all on you."

Y/n blinked, scanning the clipboard. Music show rehearsal. Commercial shoot. Dance practice. Fan sign event. And that was just before lunch on day one. "Wow… this is… intense," he muttered under their breath.

The staff member laughed. "Welcome to the life of an idol manager. You’ll get used to it."

He wasn’t ready for this. Hell no.

Yet, somehow, at 8:45 a.m., Y/n found himself standing outside aespa’s practice room, a bundle of nerves in the pit of their stomach. Through the glass window, Y/n could see the four girls, laughing about something, stretching, and getting ready to practice, while Red Velvet's manager briefing them their schedules and began to introduce their new manager.

This was going to be weird. Y/n hadn’t been around the group since the trainee days, and even then, he had been on the outside looking in. Minjeong… oh god, Minjeong. He really didn't tell her anything about this new role, just hinting that he got a job.

"Deep breath," Y/n muttered to themselves. It was just a job. Just another day.

As he opened the door, the laughter in the room died down almost instantly. Four sets of eyes turned to Y/n, and the tension hung in the air like fog. Karina stood in the centre, arms folded, eyebrows raised slightly as if sizing up an opponent.

"So," she said, voice cool and composed, "you’re our new manager?"

Y/n nodded stiffly, offering a small wave that felt ridiculously out of place. "Uh, yeah. That’s me. Jung Y/n. Lovely to meet you all.”

Winter, who had been doing some light stretches, straightened up when she recognized Y/n. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a small laugh. "Wait, Y/n?!"

Y/n tried to relax, giving Winter a sheepish smile and a peace sign. "Y-yo"

Winter’s easy laughter filled the room, lightening the mood, if only slightly. "Ya, idiot! Is this why you didn't say anything about your new job?."

"Yeah, well, I guess." Y/n shrugged. "How are you doing tho?"

"More happy now that I know that you're working with us!" Winter beamed. "This is really too funny kekekeke"

While Winter was dying in the background at the revelation, Karina’s sharp gaze hadn’t shifted. She looked Y/n up and down, her scepticism almost tangible. "No offense, but… how much experience do you have managing?"

Y/n inwardly winced but kept their face neutral. "Well, this is my first time officially managing, but I’ve trained with the company for years. I know how things work on both sides, so…"

Karina didn’t seem convinced. She didn’t say anything, but the silence spoke volumes. Ningning and Giselle exchanged glances, sensing the subtle tension in the room.

Giselle, always the bigger person, stepped in, trying to ease the awkwardness. "It’ll be fine, unnie. Y/n’s got this. I mean, he survived SM’s training system, right?"

Karina shrugged, finally breaking eye contact. "We’ll see."

Y/n’s phone buzzed for what felt like the thousandth time, and He resisted the urge to hurl it into the nearest trash can. "This cursed fing- I mean, object"

This is fine.

Everything is fine. Sure, his first official day as aespa’s manager had turned into a whirlwind of chaos, but Y/n had told himself he’d survive the day. It was all about staying calm.

Except, calm was nowhere to be found, and the more he tried to navigate their new responsibilities, the more everything spiralled out of control.

The morning had started deceptively smooth. He arrived at SM early, clipboard in hand, ready to tackle the day. A smile even broke out when he saw the group filing into the van, chirpy with coffee and morning energy. But, as soon as Y/n opened the daily schedule on their phone, his stomach sank.

Wrong rehearsal room.

The worst way to f*ck it up as well. Misread the number 7 for 1.

"Uh... okay, small problem," Y/n muttered to themselves before looking at the girls. "So, it turns out I booked the wrong practice room this morning."

Giselle, who was squished between Ningning and Winter in the van, looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, you’re telling me we’re going to a room that doesn’t exist?"

Y/n winced. "No, it exists. It's just... not available.”

Ningning leaned forward with a smirk. "So what, we practice in the parking lot? That could be fun. Maybe film a TikTok."

"That's actually a fire idea" Y/n thought.

"Please don't give her ideas," Karina groaned from the front seat. She glanced at Y/n through the rearview mirror. "So... what’s the backup plan, manager-nim?"

Y/n felt the weight of the title more than ever in that moment. Being called "manager" was still weird, like wearing a jacket that didn’t quite fit. "Uh, we’ll use one of the smaller rooms for now, just for today. I’ll sort it out. Sorry about that, team."

"Just for today?" Giselle echoed with a teasing grin. "Good to know we’ve got a professional in charge."

Y/n sighed. This was going to be a long day.

By the time they arrived at the practice room, the energy had shifted. The smaller rehearsal space had a cozy feel, but "cozy" was just a nice way of saying cramped. The mirrors barely covered one wall, and the air-conditioning was struggling to keep up with the summer heat.

The girls, to their credit, didn’t complain much—well, except for Giselle, who Y/n could always count on for a sarcastic comment or two…and Karina who didn't need any words but Y/n knew he would be skinned alive after bed.

"Well, I guess we’re all gonna sweat out our souls in here," Giselle said as she dropped her bag onto the floor and stretched her arms above her head. "Thanks, Y/n. Really starting the day off right."

Winter shot Y/n a glance, her mouth twitching into a faint smile. "It’s fine, don’t worry. We’ve practiced in worse places."

Y/n appreciated the attempt at reassurance, but the guilt still gnawed at them. He was supposed to make things easier for aespa, not complicate their day with rookie mistakes. Even worse with him thinking his trainee days would help.

So much for better understanding of the girls.

As the group started their warm-ups, Y/n made a mental note to double-check all bookings going forward. He couldn’t afford to mess up again—not with Karina giving them those mildly skeptical looks every few minutes. It was like she was silently judging every move Y/n made.

"Great. Just what I need—her thinking I’m completely useless." Y/n sighed.

Things hit a new low when Y/n tried to connect their phone to the rehearsal room's speakers, but the Wi-Fi password wasn’t working. Panic started creeping up their spine as they stared at the screen.

Y/n wanted to hit his head into a wall right this instant.”

"Hey, Y/n, we’re ready for the playlist," Karina called out from across the room. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, uh... Just a sec." Y/n tapped the password again, slower this time, but it still didn’t connect. "What the—"

Giselle leaned against the wall, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show. "Let me guess—you forgot the password? Or did you set it to ‘password123’ like a true professional?"

Y/n shot her a look, trying to hide the growing anxiety. "It’s the building Wi-Fi. I swear it’s not my fault."

"Sure, sure." Giselle’s grin widened. "No problem. We’ll just dance in silence. You know, like marionettes."

Winter chuckled softly, while Ningning chimed in. "Oooh, I love silent discos! We could start a trend."

While Y/n cracked a smile at Ningning's genius revelation once again, Karina sighed, crossing her arms. "Just use the Bluetooth on the portable speaker for now. We don’t have time to waste."

"Un-unnie" Winter whimpered, sensing that her leader began to get frustrated. "We don't need to rush, Y/n's just getting used to it."

"Jeong, it's ok." Y/n reassured. "Karina, good idea. I got the speaker just in case."

Y/n scrambled to connect his phone via Bluetooth, heart racing as the group exchanged amused glances. As much as he tried to take the ribbing in stride, Y/n couldn’t help but feel like every little mistake was another nail in their managerial coffin.

First the wrong room, now this…

Finally, the music blasted from the portable speaker, and Y/n sighed in relief. The girls began running through their choreography, their focus quickly shifting back to the dance routine. As the familiar beats filled the small room, Y/n retreated to the side, trying to steady their nerves with a big gulped.

By midday, Y/n was juggling three things at once: updating the afternoon’s schedule, figuring out lunch arrangements, and fielding a call from the media team about an upcoming interview. He was so deep in thought, he didn’t even notice Ningning creeping up behind them.

"Boo."

Y/n flinched, nearly dropping their phone. "Motherf- Yizhuo!"

She laughed, hands on her hips. "Relax, Y/n-oppa. You’re doing fine. We’re all still alive, and no one’s collapsed yet. I’d say that’s a win."

Y/n exhaled, rubbing their temples. "Yeah, barely."

"Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. This job isn’t easy. Plus, we’ve all made mistakes. I mean, did you know I once went to a music show wearing mismatched shoes? Like, two completely different shoes."

Y/n blinked. "Huh, seriously?"

"Yep," Ningning grinned. "And no one noticed until halfway through the performance."

"Is there a fancam of it at least?"

"Oh, there are plenty of that for you."

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing just a little. "Okay, maybe that makes me feel slightly better."

"Good." She clapped Y/n on the back. "You’ll get the hang of it, oppa. Just remember—you’re not the only one winging it half the time. We are too."

Before Y/n could respond, Karina’s voice interrupted them from across the room. "Y/n! Can we confirm the interview time for this afternoon?"

Y/n checked the schedule on their phone, tapping quickly before calling back, "Yeah, it’s at 2:00. I’ll make sure we’re on time."

Karina nodded, her expression unreadable as she went back to the group, but Y/n caught the faintest flicker of something that might’ve been approval.

"Okay, maybe I haven’t totally screwed up yet." Y/n did a small dance in celebration.

As the morning stretched into afternoon, Y/n found himself slowly settling into the role. Sure, it was still overwhelming, and they felt like they were constantly playing catch-up, but Giselle’s light-hearted teasing and Winter’s quiet-not-so-quiet encouragement kept them going. Even Ningning, who couldn’t resist poking fun at Y/n’s blunders, made the chaos a little more bearable.

By the time the group wrapped up their rehearsals and headed to their interview, Y/n felt a small surge of relief. They had made it through the first half of the day without any major disasters. Maybe this whole manager thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

As they entered the interview room, Y/n stood near the back, watching as the girls took their places on the set. Cameras clicked, lights flashed, and the media team buzzed around them. Y/n checked their phone one more time, going over the rest of the day’s schedule. Double checking always works.

Karina, standing just off camera, glanced over at Y/n with a small, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, and the hallway lights cast a soft glow over the exhausted aespa members as they stumbled into the dormitory. Their faces were flushed from the intensity of the day’s rehearsals, but there was a shared sense of relief in finally being off their feet. The practice room doors creaked open, revealing the calm haven of their living quarters.

Karina immediately went into her room to get changed.

Giselle frantically searched for a protein bar in their pantry.

Ningning plopped on the couch and groaned about the schedule.

And Winter noticed Y/n immediately headed to the kitchen. Already had a smile, she knew tonight will be a feast.

During his trainee days, the kitchen had become a sort of sanctuary for Y/n, a place where the clamour of the day’s chaos could be momentarily forgotten. Tonight, the giant pans of cheesy instant ramen unveiling the moment the lid opened was a beacon of comfort. The rich aroma of sauce and steaming noodles wafted through the air, promising a moment of respite.

Of course, it got the members' attention, and their tired eyes lit up at the sight of the pans of ramen. It was a welcoming sight, and their stomachs growled in unison.

Y/n’s presence in the kitchen, with his sleeves rolled up and a focused look on their face, was a stark contrast to the frenetic energy they had witnessed throughout the day.

“Y/n, you rock,” Giselle said, her voice filled with gratitude as she took a seat at the kitchen table. “I didn’t think I’d make it through the day without something like this.”

Ningning, always enthusiastic about food, followed suit and perched herself on a nearby stool. “Seriously, we owe you one. Our kitchen doesn’t usually get this kind of late-night love.”

Winter, the resident annoyance to her childhood friend, leaned against the counter and eyed Y/n with a playful smirk. “So, did you have this bougee ramen this much when you were a trainee too when I wasn't around? Or did you just eat instant noodles and subconsciously dream about becoming our manager?”

Y/n chuckled, stirring the noodles with practiced ease. “Oh, shush you. Buldak was basically my best friend during those days. It was either ramen or cereal for dinner.”

Karina, intrigued, raised an eyebrow. “Cereal for dinner? That’s a new one. What was your go-to flavor?”

“Plain old,” Y/n admitted with a grin. “It was the closest thing I could get to comfort food. Plus, it’s surprisingly filling when you’re too tired to care about anything else.”

Winter burst into laughter, nudging Y/n playfully. “I can just picture you in your trainee days, sitting in a tiny room, eating cereal straight from the box, dreaming about making it big. Did you ever think you’d end up here with us?”

"Hell no." Y/n’s expression softened, a nostalgic glint in their eyes. “Honestly, I had my doubts. It was a tough time, but moments like these make it all worth it. I’m just glad to be here with all of you.”

As the ramen finished cooking, Y/n ladled the pan into plates and handed them out. The group gathered around the table, their laughter and chatter filling the room. It wasn’t just about the food; it was about the camaraderie, the shared experiences, and the understanding that they were all in this together.

Giselle took a generous slurped and sighed contentedly. “This is exactly what we needed. I didn’t realize how much I missed simple yet fancy comforts like this.”

Ningning, already twirling noodles around her chopsticks, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the practice room is great and all, but there’s something about a late-night cheesy ramen session that just makes everything feel right.”

Y/n took a quick slurp as well, and he banged the table in excitement. "That's how you live the life, man!"

Winter’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Anyway Y/n, give us some bed time story and let us hear your side of our trainee stories.”

"You don't tell them? Unless the early days wasn't unveil yet."

"Yep, and they can hear it directly from you."

Y/n laughed softly, shaking their head. “Oh, where to begin? Let’s just say my trainee days were filled with a lot of ramen, cereal, and endless hours of practice with this doof" He pointed at Winter. "There were days when I’d practice with Minjeong for so long that I’d fall asleep in the studio…. While my childhood friend here just left me and went home.”

While Ningning laughed at the last remark, Karina’s eyes widened in surprise, but regained her distance. “You’d fall asleep in the studio? That sounds rough.”

Y/n nodded, smiling at the memory. “Yeah, I’d be so exhausted that I’d just crash wherever I could. Sometimes, I’d wake up to find the other trainees laughing at me because I’d fallen asleep on the floor in some awkward position.”

Y/n sighed, thinking about those days "Also, I cooked for Jeong here like all the time. We’d spend hours in the practice room, and when the sessions were over, we’d retreat to the dorm’s kitchen. I was always the one cooking because this girl saw the recipe online and wanted me to make it.”

Winter chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ya, you're my eternal lab rat, Y/n. Remember that time you tried to cook a proper meal for us, and I ended up almost burning the place down?”

Y/n laughed, shaking their head. “Jeezus, don't even get me started. You were determined to help, but your idea of ‘helping’ involved a lot of questionable seasoning. It was a proper experiment gone wrong. I vomited all of that after I lost the rock-paper-scissors, and Minjeong laughed like a maniac."

Karina leaned in, clearly intrigued. It was the first time Karina took interested in the new manager today. “Wait, so Y/n was cooking for Winter all the time? What did you cook for her?"

Giselle nodded, her curiosity piqued. “Damn, girl, you got a private chef all this time?" She poked Minjeong's cheek, who was totally flustered at her statement.

Y/n smiled, lost in the memories. “Jeong and I had this routine. After a long day of training, we’d both be starving and exhausted. I’d take over the kitchen because I never trust her for….well, ever. She’d stand by, throwing whatever she found online while I tried to save whatever we had.”

Winter laughed, nodding in agreement. “Y/n was actually really good at cooking. He’d whip up something edible and often surprisingly delicious. I mostly just munch and tried not to set off the smoke alarm.”

Giselle’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “That sounds like something I’d do. Ya, remember when Ningning tried to make ramen on her own and ended up setting off the fire alarm?”

Ningning’s cheeks turned a shade of red, but she laughed along with the rest. “Hey, in my defence, I was trying to add some ‘extra’ ingredients. Let’s just say I got a little carried away with the chili flakes.”

Winter’s eyes widened in mock horror, slapping Y/n's back aggressively as she remembered something. “Oh, and Jimin-unnie's cooking experiment that ended up with the entire dorm smelling like burnt popcorn for days.”

Karina rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I was trying to make popcorn, okay? It was my first attempt at cooking.”

The group burst into laughter, their earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Y/n joined in, their laughter blending with the sounds of the group’s mirth. The kitchen, usually a place for quick meals and late-night snacks, had become a space for shared stories and genuine connection.

As the conversation flowed, the stories grew more personal. Karina recounted her struggles with maintaining a rigorous training schedule while trying to stay connected with her family. Ningning shared her experiences of adapting to life in Korea and the culture shock she had felt when she first arrived. Giselle talked about the pressure of being one of the older trainees and the challenges of balancing expectations with her own ambitions.

Y/n listened intently, their heart swelling with appreciation for the group’s openness. The whole day was genuinely suffocating for Y/n and he glad his cooking opened up to them. It was a moment of vulnerability and camaraderie, a chance for everyone to connect on a deeper level.

Winter leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “You know, it’s crazy to think about how far we’ve all come. Sometimes, it feels like just yesterday we were all trainees, struggling to make it through each day.”

Ningning nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and determination. “Yeah, but look at us now. We’ve made it through the tough times and come out stronger.”

"Well, you four did for a while." Y/n pointed. "I just started."

"Aish, you know what I'm saying" Ningning brushed it off.

As the last of the ramen was devoured and the plates were set aside, the group settled into a comfortable silence. The kitchen, once filled with the noise of preparation and conversation, now hummed with a quiet sense of contentment. It was a moment of peace, a pause in the whirlwind of their busy lives—a small, perfect slice of normalcy in their extraordinary world.

Winter, sensing the serene atmosphere, broke the silence with a softer tone. “Thanks for doing this, Manager. It really means a lot to us.”

Y/n stared. "Ya, you're just gonna tease me and call me manager after that heartfelt dinner?"

"I'm being serious, this guy.." Winter glared. "We know that the sudden career change is rough for you. But all things considered….you aced it."

Y/n smiled at the thumbs up from everyone, even including the hard-to-approach Karina.

As the night wore on, the group slowly began to disperse to their shared room, their energy restored by the comforting presence of good food and good company. Y/n watched them go, their heart full with a sense of fulfillment. This was what it was all about—connecting, sharing, and growing together.

With the kitchen finally quiet, Y/n began to clean up, their movements slow and deliberate. The pot was washed, the plates stacked neatly, and the remnants of the meal cleared away. The kitchen, now returned to its usual state of order, seemed to hold the echoes of laughter and conversation, a testament to the bond that had been strengthened over a simple late-night snack.

As Y/n finished tidying up, he glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly 2 a.m. The day had been long, but it had ended on a high note. With a contented sigh, Y/n turned off the lights and began to head out to go home.

However, as he was heading towards the front door, a hand tugged his sleep. It was Winter.

"Hey, are you ok?" Her voice was full of concern. While she didn't say much, she knew today was tough for Y/n, especially under the eyes of her leader.

"Yea, I'm ok. What's wrong?"

"I know that Jimin-unnie has been…rough on you…but please don't hate her too much" She held on Y/n's hand, clearly whimpering and shaking from her hand. "She was just looking out for us. Things were especially tough these days even with our old manager."

"Aish, cmon I'm not that petty." Y/n wiped her tears. "Normal person would've been angry with me already considering how many times I fcked up. So Karina was already being the nicest possible she can be."

"B-but I don't want you to feel down and leave again…"

Y/n swore his heart skipped a beat after that confession. "Aish, I'll never leave you like before, Minjeong. Trust me on this."

"Really?" Winter hiccuped.

"Yes, crybaby." That made Y/n earned a kick to the shin from Winter, who cackled afterwards hearing her nickname.

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

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uranometrias · 9 months ago

Note

hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.

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fluffylino · 1 year ago

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HI HELLO YES I WILL LITERALLY PAY YOU TO CONTINUE WITH THAT HYUNJIN SMUT YOU JUST WROTE CUZ OMH I AM NOT OKAY I TOO WANT TO BE HIS DOG LIKE PLS LEASH ME UP SIR

OKAY but imagine him making you bark. him breaking you apart. he wants to see just how DESPERATE YOU ARE FOR HIM.

anon, we transform into dogs when it comes to hyunjin 🤝

i got a little too into this but anyways here is your gift ♡

-contains mature themes

"fuck" hyunjin cursed as you took his length. you bit into the pillow beside you, unable to focus on anything but him.

"this is what you were waiting for. such a patient good girl" he praised, cupping one side of your face with such gentleness.

"my dick's in you now, baby. you got what you wanted." he smiled. it took you a few seconds to process what he was saying. A few moments went by yet he still didn't do anything.

"m-move" you mumbled. "please"

"but honey, from what i remember you sent me a video saying you just wanted me inside of you." he reasoned, faking a genuine confused look.

you were going to cry.

"I meant-"

"ohhh did you also want me to make you cum?" he said, in a questioning tone. you tried nodding and he clicked his tongue, interrupting you.

"baby don't you know you have to be a little more specific?

"hm?"

"do i need to teach you to form a proper sentence mentioning what you exactly want from me?" it was meant to sound condescending yet he genuinely had you questioning whether you really didn't mention anything.

"I-" you muttered, a few tears slipping out.

"What's wrong, puppy? Cat got your tongue?"

his gaze was strong and you tried your best to keep looking at him but soon, your tears turned him into a blurry image.

"please hyun-" you begged, and he leaned down to hold your face. he pouted.

"that isn't going to work on me" he whispered, brushing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. he moaned lowly when you clenched around him.

you were starting to get desperate. wriggling your hips did nothing but push him deeper. that was until he caught you, holding you down by the hips.

"you really want me so bad?" you nodded vigorously, even going to the extent grabbing his hand and pushing it against your throat. he tightened his grip on your neck, cutting off most of your air supply and revelling in the way you gasped.

"so tight" he whispered under his breath, looking down at where yall were connected. he adjusted himself.

"tongue out" he ordered. you did as he said.

"more" you pushed your tongue out entirely. He moved closer, you expected him to spit-

you huffed, eyelids fluttering, the feeling of him sucking on your tongue.

spit slowly dripping out and you knew you were in a messy state. hyunjin slowly pulled away, letting out a breathy laugh as you tried to chase after his mouth.

"Bark"

"wha-"

"come on bark" he said, looking at you with such intensity.

"bark for me and then maybe ill consider giving you what you want" he reasoned. you felt a wave of embarassement.

"but-" he silenced you by covering your mouth with his palm.

"you don't speak unless i tell you to" you shuddered and you could feel yourself get wetter. Hyunjin seemed to feel it too. one of his hands sliding down to rub against you.

"puppy im waiting"

"w-woof" you said, jaw slack when he thrust's forward and stops.

did he want you to do it again?

"keep going"

you gave it your best. hyunjin smiled, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

"See it wasn't that hard was it, my love?"

🛐🔝

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz drabbles #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #dom hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagines #bang chan smut #lee minho smut #stray kids #fluffylino works

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differentloveletter · 7 months ago

Text

World Class Sinner

Homelander x pop star reader

Looks like you have a fan ;)

Warnings: one paragraph of cunnilingus

Season 1 Homelander (age: 37 reader:26)

Homelander steps up to the podium he just had finished speaking about what he was ranting about how his fans where heroes and motivators, his presence commanding the attention of the entire crowd. With his signature confident smile, he begins speaking to the audience gathered at the pep rally.

“Thank you, thank you!” Homelander’s voice boomed, effortlessly commanding attention. “You all know how much I love seeing you here, united and strong. This is what makes America great!”

He chuckles watching the crowd as he gently shushed them. “Now. I want to introduce a wonderful lady who came to perform for us tonight. Coming out y/n!” He claps his hands as he chortles as he watches you.

You walked out onto the stage as you smiled and waved the crowd went crazy. Excited that vought called you to perform mainly the statement getting you that Homelander wanted you. He pats your back gently as he watches with a soft smirk “atta girl” he chuckles then gets off of stage. Some of them confused about why you were chosen but others knew exactly who you were.

“Hello everyone!” You giggle as you hold the microphone looking at everyone thrilled “Thank you for having me here” you start. “Most of all thank you homelander for letting me perform, you guys are ready to have some fun!” You giggle as they cheer and you start singing.

Cause I know that you don't really know, How to handle it

“Shut the fuck up “ he growled at Ashley who was speaking her head off, he turns, and his attention was all on you. He stood behind the set as he watched with his arms crossed.

So get down on your knees and get ready,To become my bitch

After you’re show you walk to your trailer as you sip your water walking in, you spot a familiar cape sitting down with a bouquet of flowers. You stood by the door watching as you smiled softly.

I'm just a freak, yeah, You know I want it bad

He sat up as he sighed rubbing his face and trying to think if these were the right flowers for you. “They're not big enough.” He grunted as he rolled his eyes then turns going out the other door.

You walk over smile gently picking them up and smelling them. Homelander really had a heart?

And we can meet, yeah, But I don't need to know your name

The next day you had your bags as you were heading back to your place since you lived up uptown New York. Only you were stopped by a big gust of wind. You turn looking at him. Homelander? Before you get in your car you slide off your headphones, “Hi” you smile softly.

He slightly smiles as he mumbles “I just wanted to thank you for coming out.” He said awkwardly. “I guess I can say I’m a fan of yours, and I definitely want you to come back- only if you want to I’m not gonna beg” his lips pressed together as he rolled his eyes at himself looking to the side.

'Cause you're dumb but you're cute , That's a good enough ratio

“You’re birthday is coming up no?” You look at him gently finding him cute. You can tell he doesn’t know how to approach women. His eyes slightly brightened, you knew his birthday? He nodded gently “Yes” he stood up straighter

“I’ll come back for you and perform if you want me to?” He slightly grins, it was a real one. He cleared his throat “yeah I would like that” he nods gently. You giggle mumbling “It would be an honor sir” You smile gently “John. Please call me John” he holds out his hand

“John” you smile shaking his hand. “Sure, John. You know, I could leave later if you wanted to hang out, I mean it was your event and I barely saw you” “Hang out?.. I mean sure but” he shakes his head chuckling. This young talk confused him but sounded fun. “Oh, are you busy?” You asked gently. “No!- no no I’m not busy-“ he chuckles “I just need to go back then we can “hang out.””

And I'm wild as a stallion ,So come enjoy the rodeo

Hours passed, clothes were spread on the floor, and you never thought you would be in the homelanders penthouse receiving from him.

“J-John~” you moaned as your head fell back against his pillows. He grips your thighs that was on either side of his head. You’re hands gripping his golden locks. He slaps and grips your thighs as he moaned against you. Deeper you feel his tongue go in you causing you to arch you’re back “O-oh my god-“ you hiccup as you buck your hips “f-fuck you’re so good you’re so good” you repeated to him praising seemed to get him more turned on. But he didn’t want you to touch him he wanted to make you feel good.

You can pull my hair, touch me anywhere , Whip and chains

Now you’re sitting in his tub as he gently cleans your skin. It’s no selfish act he’s all for you right now. You watch him softly as you smile gently running your hand through his hair mumbling softly “Why do you put on this persona when you’re not really like that?”, he looks over at you mumbling “It’s my job” he shakes his head watching you soak. You whisper “Well you call me when you need a break okay?” You smile gently “you’re too sweet to be alone.”

His eyes soften as his head lays his head on your hand, “thank you” he mumbles not wanting her to go. It’s interesting to hear how a 37-year-old is so lonely yet not at the same time.

I'm just a freak, yeah ,So show me why you came

He walked you to your car wearing a cap a zip up with sweats as he looked at you gently “you’ll be fine driving this late?” He stood in-front of you as you leaned back against the car. “Yeah someone is driving me so.” You nod gently looking up at him. John nods softly as he shoved his hands in his pockets looking to the side slightly. You smile softly “I had fun. You’re not scary you know?” She giggles softly as she rubs her neck slightly. He looked back at you as he narrows his eyebrows “you don’t find me. Scary?” He points to himself. “I mean after what we did I don’t” she giggles softly.

It seemed like he relaxed as he nods gently “good then.” “Good” you mumble gently, you watch him open the car for you as you start getting in “thank you.”. He watches you get in "hey y/n?" You pause on you lean on the door "yes?" "will i see you again?" he looked at you gently. you smile softly as you nod "yes. you'll see me again." he slightly pressed his lips together nodding. "dont miss me to much yeah?" you get in as the door closes and you roll down the window as the car drives off.

he watches you go, you lean out the window "THANK YOU FOR THE FLOWERS!" you giggle blowing a kiss. He gently waves one arm behind his back "youre welcome!" he then watched you disapear. he turns as he walked back into vought that night he went to sleep with a big smile on his face.

#homelander x black reader #homelander x y/n #homelander x you #homelander the boys #homelander headcanons #homelander x reader #homelander #x reader #the boys fic #the boys prime #the boys imagine #homelander imagine #john gillman #my man my man my man #daddylander #antony starr #anthony starr #Spotify

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foreverisntenough · 3 months ago

Text

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 23 - 'The Right Time' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2 k

“Hello… Ah Jude! What a surprise. How are you, golden boy?” Your dad’s voice came through warm as always and thick with a French accent. Jude smiled, though his nerves were creeping up on him.

“Yeah, good, sir. Thanks. I was calling to see if you had seen the upcoming international schedule come out? I wanted to know if you’d be able to come to the France England match?” Jude winced as he heard his voice shake. Your dad didn’t miss a beat though. He liked Jude.

“Bien Sûr! Of course! Wouldn’t miss it. Big game, no?” Your dad cooed. Jude felt a small wave of relief at the easy start, but now came the hard part. He swallowed, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah? Amazing. I was, erm, also wondering if you’d also be able to meet with me before the game? You know, grab lunch or dinner the night before.” There was a brief pause before your dad laughed. “You know, if you’re available.” Jude added quickly in a panic.

“Lunch, huh? I don’t mind a lunch. What’s the occasion?” He asked. Jude’s heart rate picked up. He just needed your dad to say yes and like three seconds ago. He was stressing.

“Yeah, I just thought…well. I wanted to speak with you if that’d be alright.” Jude rubbed the back of his neck, stammering. “Just the two of us, before all the chaos of the match.” Jude babbled. Your dad chuckled again, clearly amused.

“Alright, we can do that, Jude. Faisons-le.” [Let’s do it] Your dad accepted empathizing with Jude’s nerves but started to get a clearer idea of what this formal request was all about. The flicker between languages though had Jude’s head spinning.

“Perfect, thank you” Jude said quickly, his voice a little too eager. “Would you be able to meet in the 5th? There’s a place I’d like to take you to.” Jude awkwardly asked, feeling like he really shouldn’t be the one driving the conversation. Another beat of silence followed before your dad’s voice came through again confirming it all. They said their goodbyes, and Jude hung up, staring at his phone for a moment before running a hand over his face. He’d done it—he’d officially set the wheels in motion. Now all that was left was actually popping the question to you, planning, organizing it. But first, he had to survive brunch with your dad. When he walked back into the kitchen, you were sitting there with a curious look, clearly wondering what all the secrecy was about. Jude just grinned, trying to act nonchalant. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could press him any further, he quickly kissed your cheek and turned away, leaving you more suspicious than ever.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing and thoughts swirling in your mind like a storm. The realization that you hadn’t gotten your period weighed heavily on you, and every tick of the clock seemed to echo the fear building inside you. You and Jude had been careless, wrapped up in the bliss of your relationship without a thought for the potential consequence, not wrapped up in what Jude should’ve been in. As you sat there in sheer panic, Jude walked in, completely unaware of the turmoil churning within you. He came over, leaning down to kiss your neck softly, his lips sending shivers down your spine, but the warmth was lost in your anxiety.

“Jude, can you please stop?” you managed to say, your voice strained.

“Why?” he asked playfully, continuing his affection, but you couldn’t shake the tightness in your chest.

“Seriously, just stop,” you snapped, the panic bubbling over into irritation. You winced as you pushed him away, the action more forceful than you intended. Jude pulled back, concern etching his features.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of genuine worry. “I just thought you were just tired or something, angel. What’s going on?” He asked, able to sense there was more to this rejection.

“I’m not in the mood,” you said, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But the truth was, it was much deeper than that. You could feel the tension radiating off you, and it wasn’t just physical. He studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing.

“Okay, but you’ve been tense for a couple days now. What’s actually going on?” He asked you You took a deep breath, your throat dry. The words felt like boulders in your mouth, but you knew you couldn’t hide any longer.

“I… I haven’t gotten my period,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared, Jude.” You confessed. He moved to sit beside you, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. He squeezed your thigh reassuringly, his touch warm and grounding.

“Wow…. Erm… that’s okay,” he whispered keeping his eyes straight ahead but leaning in to kiss your temple. “It could be fun.” He said without much thought. Your head snapped toward him, disbelief written all over your face.

“Fun? Are you serious right now? No, I’d rather not do this!” His expression faltered, and you could see the faint amusement vanish from his eyes, replaced by a flash of defensiveness.

“Thanks for that,” he snapped, clearly taken aback by your reaction and what felt like rejection to the idea of babies with him entirely. “I’m just saying it could be an adventure.” He tried to stop this conversation from spiraling into something it didn’t need to be.

“Are you mad at me now?” you questioned, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you as you stood up abruptly, the tension thickening the air. You felt like you were going to cry. You could feel the pressure build behind your eyes.

“Why would I be mad at you?” he shot back, standing up too, the space between you charged with unspoken emotions. The air was thick with awkwardness and accusation. Jude couldn’t even tell you how he felt because he didn’t know.

“Jude! This is not okay. I’m freaking out! This isn’t a joke!” you replied, your voice rising. “What if I am? What then, Jude? Our lives are just… changing overnight?” You finally cried. He sighed, running a hand over his hair, frustration etched into his features.

“I get that this is scary. But we have to talk about it regardless. Getting upset isn’t going to help either of us.” He tried to tell you calmly. You crossed your arms, trying to shield yourself from the wave of emotions crashing over you. Him indirectly telling you to chill out though was heightening your feelings of panic

“I know that! But what if I’m not ready for this? What if you’re not ready?” You yelped. You felt like Jude wasn’t understanding how real this was. Jude stepped closer and you almost winced.

“Y/N, look at me. We both know we’ve been irresponsible, but this doesn’t have to be the end of everything we’ve built. We can figure it out together.” The intensity of his gaze pierced through your panic, and you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he understood. Maybe you weren’t giving him enough credit.

“Together?” you repeated, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat radiating from him. “We’ll take this one step at a time. We’ll take a test, and then we’ll deal with whatever comes next. But you’re not alone in this. You never will be, angel.” You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was resolve. The weight on your chest began to ease just a little, as his unwavering support wrapped around you like a lifeline. “I’ll go out to the shops right now and buy a test, Angel.” He cooed and all of a sudden he watched your facial expression change. You brief moment of relief evaporating. Jude stood there for a moment, his mind racing as he processed everything you had just said and your facial expression now. You were right; the situation was overwhelming, and the last thing he wanted was to put any unnecessary pressure on you. He had only wanted to help, but now he could see that his suggestion had only made things worse. How could him buying a test make things worse? He wasn't sure but he knew you were about to tell him just that.

“Jude, you can’t! People can’t know! People can’t see you do that. They’ll think… they’ll think—” Your voice trembled, the panic rising again as you thought about the implications. The idea of being in the spotlight for something so personal was terrifying.

“Y/N,” he said gently, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. “It’s just a test. Nobody has to know anything until we’re ready. I promise.” But as he spoke, he could see the fear etched in your face, and it twisted something deep within him.

“Please,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just can’t handle the idea of everyone finding out. I don’t want to be a headline. I’m just… so scared.” The fight that had started to brew between you dissolved into something much deeper as tears pooled in your eyes. The stress of the moment crashed down on you like a wave, and you could feel the weight of it all suffocating you. Jude didn’t like seeing you like this; it cut through him in a way he didn’t expect. In an instant, he moved toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He held you tightly, trying to shield you from the storm that raged within.

“I’m here for you, yeah?” he whispered softly in your hair, trying to ground you. “No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. You will be okay. We will be okay.” Your body shook as the tears began to flow more freely, the tension releasing with the warmth of his embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, allowing the sobs to escape. It felt like everything was crashing down around you, and the vulnerability of the moment overwhelmed you.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You muttered feeling like an idiot for being reckless enough to end up in this situation. You felt both terrified and safe, cradled in the arms of the one person who made you feel more than just a girlfriend in a complicated situation.

“You’re not stupid,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “You’re brave. This is all so much to deal with, and it’s okay to feel this way but it will be okay..” He stroked your hair gently, calming you as you cried, whispering reassurances into your ear. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” But internally, Jude was freaking out. The realization that you could potentially be pregnant sent waves of panic through him. He had always imagined having kids one day, but the thought of it happening now, with everything finally just settled down between you, made his head spin. How had he gotten to this point? He wanted to be a father, to have that family, eventually but now, feeling the weight of your fears in his arms, he questioned if he was ready for it all. Seeing you in this state, crying in his arms, made him feel like he was going to pass out. As much as he was a steadying force for you right now you were acting as an anchor for Jude. The gravity of the situation pressed down on him, the excitement of the idea mingling with the fear of the unknown. What if this changed everything? What if it didn’t? Questions raced through his mind like a whirlwind, but all he could focus on in that moment was you. “I know this feels like a lot right now, but we’ll figure it out together,” he promised, trying to project the confidence he didn’t entirely feel. “Just breathe for me, okay? I’ve got you.” As you finally began to calm, his heart softened at the sight of you clinging to him. He wished he could take away all your fears, all your worries, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Instead, he just held you tighter, wishing to convey the certainty that he was all in, no matter what came next. Even if either of you didn’t know what was to come, he had you. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair, hoping those words would anchor you in this moment of chaos. “And whatever happens, I’ll be right here.” He cooed gently.

The test sat there, stark and unforgiving, the two pink lines—or lack thereof—defining everything in that moment. You stared at it, willing your mind to understand the reality before you. Jude’s face fell, his expression a mix of disappointment and relief. You couldn’t bear to look; instead, you focused on the way he stood across from you in the bathroom, trying to gauge what he was feeling.

“Are you relieved?” you finally meekly managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of the unknown.

“Yeah,” he muttered, the word escaping him quietly as if it carried the burden of all the unsaid things between you. A knot twisted in your stomach at his response. Relief? Did that mean he didn’t want a baby with you? Suddenly it felt like Jude looked you square in the face and said he never wanted to even entertain the idea of a child with you. He hadn’t said that though. Still the thoughts spiraled in your mind like a storm. What would he have done if the test had been positive? Would he have felt trapped? Scared? Would he have walked away? As if sensing your turmoil, Jude stepped closer, closing his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. His hands found their way to your hips, grounding you with his touch. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against yours, the gentle connection calming the storm of emotions raging within you. You let the moment linger, savoring the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet intimacy of the silence. But the weight of the situation pressed heavily on both of you. “Angel…” He quietly cooed. “Is it okay if I feel a bit disappointed too, though?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper as he opened his eyes to meet yours. You nodded, tears spilling over as the acknowledgment of his feelings broke down your defenses. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the reality settling around you like a thick fog. You cried openly now, the floodgates giving way as everything poured out. The relief that you weren’t pregnant mingled with the deep sense of loss for what could have been. This moment was unexpectedly sad. Jude’s expression softened, a sad smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he watched you cry. He was relieved you weren’t pregnant, but he was equally relieved to see that you shared the same sense of disappointment that tugged at his heart. It was a strange connection, this silent understanding, and it anchored both of you in that moment. “I’m really sorry, angel.” He whispered, pulling you in tighter, his lips to your forehead.

“I feel so empty.” You whimpered. You meant it in a way that was figurative but you felt like you could also feel the emptiness in your body now physically.

“I don’t want you to feel alone in this,” he murmured,his lips ghosting over your skin. “I know this is a lot to handle. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. I am here with you. I am so sorry.” He muttered, brushing away your tears with his thumbs.

“I just…” you started, your voice shaky as you struggled to put your feelings into words. “I thought maybe… I don’t know, it would be different. I want you to want that with me.” You pouted. His heart raced at your confession, the weight of your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He wanted that too, but the fear of it all had clouded his thoughts.

“I do want that with you, Y/N,” he said, his voice earnest and steady. “Just not like this but when it’s our time. Not in a panic like this, when we’re still figuring everything out.” You took a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you like a cocoon. His honesty gave you comfort, and you realized that even in the midst of chaos, you still felt secure in his arms. “I promise, angel. I can’t think of anything that I’d like more than a future like that with you. I’d be so lucky to do that with you.” He told you honestly. You hummed with a sad nod. “I’m sorry though angel and right now, however you feel…We’ll get through it together,” he whispered, pulling you tighter against him. “No matter what, you’re never going to be alone.” As the tears continued to flow, you could feel the tension slowly dissipating between you. It wasn’t the answer you thought you’d find, but it was a start. You had each other, and that was more than enough for now. He held you tightly, swaying you back and forth gently as if you were both dancing to a song only the two of you could hear. Jude hummed softly, his voice low and soothing. For a long while it was a comfortable silence laced with that hum until Jude spoke again. “You’d be a good mum, you know,” he said, a warmth spreading through your chest at his words.

“Yeah?” you replied, a small sigh escaping your lips as a smile tugged at your mouth. “Honestly… I never thought about this much until I met you.” You cooed. Jude giggled a little thinking that was kind of crazy because when he saw you with kids, fans of his or with Teddy it was all so instinctual.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. “You’re so amazing, angel. So, whenever you’re ready or not, or whatever,” he babbled, not wanting to impose any pressure on you. His voice was steady, full of reassurance.

“Yeah… like eventually, maybe I wouldn’t oppose,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Cool,” he nodded, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Cool,” you echoed, a comfortable silence falling over the room. It felt peaceful, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had surrounded you moments before. You decided to break the silence with a playful question. “How young will our son be when you get him a haircut?” you giggled, enjoying the lightness that settled between you. He laughed, the sound rich and genuine.

“Our son can get a weekly trim with me,” he joked, his tone filled with a playful confidence. He didn’t really answer the question but you didn’t care you liked the answer he did give. The way he said ‘ours’ sent a rush of warmth through your veins, your heart aching at the thought. It was a simple word, yet it carried the weight of a thousand possibilities. The idea of having a baby didn’t seem as scary when he held you like this, enveloped in warmth and affection.

“Do you think we’d have a boy?” you asked, curiosity shining in your eyes.

“I hope so,” he replied, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “I want to teach him how to play footie but also how to be a good human…And obviously, the value of a good trim.” He cooed with a warmth that made you want to cry but you laughed instead, imagining a little boy running around with Jude’s infectious energy and charm.

“And if it’s a girl?” You inquired.

“Well, she’ll be gorgeous like mum and she’ll be a princess like mum. Don’t care, I’ll spoil her outright just like mum” he said, grinning down at you. You giggled at how sweet he was. The conversation flowed easily, a dance of dreams and lighthearted banter that helped to ease the weight of your earlier fears. You could picture it now: a family of your own, filled with laughter and love.

“Whatever we’d be lucky enough to have, I just know I want to do it with you,” you said softly, looking into his eyes. The sincerity in your voice caught him off guard, and for a moment, all the playful banter faded into the background, leaving only the truth of what you felt.

“Me too, angel,” he replied, sincerity washing over his features. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” In that moment, wrapped in his embrace, you realized that no matter what came next, you’d face it together. The world felt a little less daunting, and for the first time in a days, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you.

It was a crisp December morning in Madrid, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as a soft, golden light streamed into the kitchen. The air inside was cozy, the warmth from the heating system keeping the chill at bay, but a draft of cold still sneaked in from the window left cracked open the night before. You stretched lazily in the quiet of the kitchen, already up before Jude, padding around in one of his oversized hoodies. The fabric was too long for you, the sleeves hanging over your hands as you prepped breakfast, your bare feet lightly tapping on the cool tile floor. The smell of coffee brewed, and you could hear it drip slowly into the pot, filling the space with its rich aroma. You cracked eggs into a bowl, lost in the rhythm of the morning. The silence of the house, only broken by the clinking of utensils, felt soothing. There was something special about these mornings, when you had the quiet before Jude woke up, where it was just you and the promise of the day stretching out ahead of you. You heard a soft shuffle behind you and turned, catching sight of Jude, still groggy from sleep, coming imo the room. His hair was an adorable mess, he’d be embarrassed by but it was cute, and his eyes were half-lidded with drowsiness. He was wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and a loose t-shirt that only made him look more irresistibly relaxed. When he saw you, his lips curled into a slow, sleepy smile.

"Morning, gorgeous girl," he mumbled, his voice deeper and husky from just waking up. You turned back to the stove, suppressing a smile.

"Morning, you," you replied, stirring the scrambled eggs in the pan. "Finally up, huh?"

"Mhm," he hummed, but instead of answering with words, he shuffled over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “Tired me out last night.” He smiled cheekily. His body pressed against yours as he buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. He sighed contentedly, his lips brushing the nape of your neck, making you giggle softly.

"Jude," you laughed, trying to keep stirring the eggs but already distracted by the way his hands had slid under your hoodie, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare waist. "I'm cooking..."

"Don't care," he murmured, tightening his hold on you. "Missed you. And this hoodie looks better on you than me." His voice was barely above a whisper, low and soft, but you could hear the affection in it. You rolled your eyes playfully but leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

"You're always so clingy in the morning," you teased, but the smile in your voice gave away how much you loved it. Jude had always been affectionate, but in the mornings, before the world pulled him in a million directions, he seemed to need you most. He was all soft touches and sleepy kisses, a version of himself that was completely yours. He kissed your neck again, slower this time, making your heart skip a beat. "Can't help it. You look so cute standing here, making me breakfast." He cheekily squeezed you a bit tighter.

"You mean our breakfast," you corrected, turning your head slightly to give him a playful glare. "I'm not cooking all this just for you." You explained with glint in your eyes. Jude smirked, pulling back slightly to spin you around so you were facing him, your back against the counter.

"I know, I know. You're just being nice because you love me, making me breakfast and that." His hands stayed on your hips, pulling you close as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck.

"Maybe," you teased, pulling back slightly to look up at him. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but there was something deeper there, something soft and warm and full of love.He studied you for a moment, his thumb gently brushing along your cheek.

"You’ve made me so soft, you know that?" He shook his head as if to be in disbelief. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? How so?" You asked with a teasing smile. Jude's hands moved up to cup your face, his touch gentle as he held you there, his forehead resting against yours.

"Used to just be all about football and video games and hanging out with the lads. Now I just want to do things like... make breakfast with you. Or listen to you talk about art for hours. Or... just be close to you….All the time." He cooed. He didn’t laugh though he was serious. It wasn’t that Jude hadn’t seen the change in himself but it was one of the first times he felt like he was admitting it aloud that he had changed. Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned into his touch, feeling overwhelmed by how much love you felt for him in that moment.

"I like this version of you," you whispered, closing your eyes as he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "But you're still you. The boy who loves football and video games with the lads" You cooed. Jude chuckled softly, his lips still brushing against yours.

"Maybe so. But l'd rather be here with you than doing anything else.” He told you.The warmth between you both felt so intoxicating, the morning forgotten as Jude kissed you again, his hands wandering up your sides, pulling you closer until you were pressed against him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. You felt the heat rise between you, the quiet intimacy of the kitchen wrapping around you both like a cocoon. But you broke the kiss, laughing softly against his lips. "The eggs are going to burn, baby" you murmured, trying to regain some semblance of focus. Jude groaned but reluctantly let you go, though not without stealing one last kiss.

"Fine, but only because I'm hungry. And I know you cook better than me." He groaned and you giggled with a sarcastic hum. You turned back to the stove, but Jude stayed close, his hands still resting on your hips, his body pressed lightly against yours as you finished cooking. He didn't let you go, not for a second, even as you plated the food and set it down on the table.

You had woken up early, as you often did, filled with energy and a deep sense of affection for Jude. Since the pregnancy scare the domesticity of home life felt so special. You'd always been a morning person, and you loved taking advantage of these quiet hours to prepare a delicious breakfast for him. You threw on one of Jude's oversized sweatshirts, nothing else underneath, and headed down to the kitchen, leaving Jude to sleep in a bit more. The soft fabric brushed against your smooth skin as you move, the scent of him lingering on the collar. You hummed to yourself, slicing fruit and preparing a stack of pancakes and eggs. You couldn’t help but think about Jude still asleep, your body warming at the thought of him. You worked efficiently, your mind filled with anticipation, knowing that soon, he’d be down.

"Mmm, that smells incredible," he murmured, his voice deep and seductive. As you finished up the food with Jude glued to you, you set the plates down on the table. His brown eyes sparkling with a cheeky glint as he sat down. You beamed at him, feeling pleased.

"For you, baby." You cooed before he pulled you onto his lap, making you giggle. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, you felt his lips return to your neck, planting soft, warm kisses that make your skin tingle. And then the mood changed. You let out a soft moan, your head falling back to give him better access. His hands begin to wander under the sweatshirt, his palms gliding over your smooth skin, igniting little fires wherever he touched. You grinded your hips against his thigh, seeking friction, needing to feel him against you.

"You have no idea how sexy you are," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. You whined, your need for him growing by the second. Jude's fingers danced lower, his touch feathery light as they tickled your stomach, making you squirm with anticipation. Then, his fingers dipped lower, teasing the edges of your panties. You were already wet, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. With a skillful move, he slipped his fingers under your panties, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed slow, firm circles, making you gasp and grind your hips in rhythmic circles. His other hand finding your tits, his fingers pinching your hard nipple through the fabric. You were moaning loudly now, your head thrown back, offering your neck to his hungry mouth. He sucked and nips at your sensitive skin, marking you with little love bites. His fingers still working their magic on your clit, building the tension within you. You could feel your orgasm building like a storm, your body quivering. Jude was whispering dirty nothings in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's it, angel, cum for me. Let me feel you cum on my fingers." His commanded as he pushed you over the edge. You cried out loudly as your orgasm exploded through you. Your body shaking, your juices flowing over his fingers. You could feel his thumb dip into your hole, fucking you slowly as your orgasm continues to wash over you. You rode out the waves of pleasure, your body limp in his arms. Jude continued on though, holding you, kissing your neck softly, his fingers gently soothing your sensitive clit. You felt boneless, completely satisfied, but there was a fire still burning in your stomach, a need to return the favor. You wanted to taste him, to feel him inside your mouth. You shifted in his lap, turning to face him. Your eyes, heavy with desire, meet his, and you leant in, capturing his lips with yours. You kissed him deeply, passionately. Your tongue tangled with his, your hands burying themselves in his hair. He tasted so good, and you wanted more. No… you needed more. You pulled away, looking at him with a mixture of love and lust.

"My turn, okay, baby?" you whispered, your voice hoarse. With that, you stood up, the sweatshirt falling to your feet, leaving you naked and glorious before him. Jude's eyes raked over your body, taking in your perky tits, nipples hard with desire. You wasted no time, moving to your knees before him. You pulled on the strings of his joggers, your fingers nimble. His hard length springing free, and you took a moment to admire it: thick, veiny, and oozing pre-cum. You leaned in, breathing in his musky scent, and then you swipe your tongue over the tip, tasting him. You looked up at Jude, seeing his eyes screwed shut, his head thrown back as he savors the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip. Jude was far too tired to try to play it cool right now. You took him into your mouth, slowly at first, then deeper, your lips stretching to accommodate his girth. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue working in circles, moaning softly as you taste more of him. Jude's hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, but you needed no instruction. You knew what he liked and you were going to give him just that, you wanted to feel him lose control. You took him deeper, your nose pressing into his pubic bone, and you swallowed around him, feeling his length hit the back of your throat. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard, and Jude groaned loudly, his hips bucking slightly. You reached down, cupping his heavy balls, massaging them gently as you continue to suck and lick. You could feel his length twitch in your mouth, you knew he was holding back, trying to prolong this moment of bliss. So in retaliation, you speed up, your head moving faster, your mouth working him like a pro.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum," Jude grunted, his voice hoarse. You hummed in response, the vibrations making him jerk and swear. You felt his hands tighten in your hair, his hips thrusting up as he erupts in your mouth. You swallowed around him, tasting his salty cum and continued to suck and lick until he was completely spent. Jude pulled you up, crushing you to him in a passionate embrace. You could taste yourself on his lips as you kissed him deeply. “Such a good girl f’me, making me breakfast, making me cum," he whispered, his eyes full of admiration and desire. You smiled, feeling sexy and powerful. This is what you could do to him, and you love it. The Jude Bellingham wrapped in you and you now sat happily still wrapped in his arms as you turned to eat your breakfast, staying just as is, barely dressed, still feeling the warmth from the steamy session you and Jude had just shared. Your legs were tangled with his under the table, his bare chest pressed against your side as he kept one arm draped around your waist. You could still feel the heat of his kisses on your skin, lingering like the soft flush on your cheeks. Eventually, the plate in front of you was half-eaten, but neither of you seemed focused on the food, too caught up in the lazy intimacy of the moment.

"I really need to shower," you said, your voice light, though you made no move to get up. You giggled softly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. Jude leaned over and kissed your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make you melt a little more into him.

"I'll do the dishes if you let me shower with you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You giggled again, the sound soft and full of affection.

"Oh, really? You're that eager, huh?" you teased, turning your head slightly to look at him with a playful smile. He grinned, his hand trailing up and down your side, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

"You know what you did," he said cheekily, his eyes glinting with mischief. You couldn't help but laugh, leaning into him as you shook your head.

"Must've done something pretty good, then, huh?" you quipped, enjoying the flirty banter as much as the closeness of his body.

"Fucking amazing every time, angel. You’re too good f’me," Jude pulled you closer, pressing another kiss to your temple before he whispered. You sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the morning light casting a soft glow over the kitchen. As much as you teased him, you loved how affectionate he was being, how he never seemed to let go of you. The promise of a shower together made you grin, and you nodded, already imagining how good the hot water would feel after this perfect, intimate breakfast. You planned on savoring every single moment this morning had to offer.

The air in Paris was crisp that morning later that month, the kind that signaled the true arrival of winter. Jude had barely slept the night before, too busy running over what he was going to say when he saw your dad in person. They were meeting for brunch, tucked away in the 5th arrondissement like they’d planned. It was just ahead of the England vs. France match, and while Jude had no problem facing a full stadium, the thought of this conversation with your dad left him feeling like he was stepping into an entirely different kind of game, one he felt unprepared for no matter how many times he rehearsed. He arrived a little early, wanting to be ready when your dad showed up. The café was small, luxurious, but homey—the kind of place your dad would appreciate. Jude checked his phone, scrolling mindlessly through the punditry ahead of the match, but he wasn’t paying attention. His mind was racing with what he had to say. When your dad finally appeared, Jude stood up quickly, offering a handshake that turned into a brief, friendly hug.

“Bonjour, Mr. Y/L/N. Thank you for coming. Good to see you,” Jude said, trying to keep his voice steady. Your dad grinned.

“Ah bonjour garçon d'or” [Hello, golden boy] He teased Jude as he sat down, relaxed, but there was a knowing look in his eyes. Jude could tell that he sensed something was up. Your dad leaned back in his chair, his nature was calm but there was an intimidating coolness that lurked. He was in a wool suit in a casual way that was something only older men could pull off. And so they ordered coffee and started with small talk—football, the upcoming match, the cold weather. But Jude was barely keeping up, his mind racing toward the real reason he’d asked your dad to brunch in the first place. He’d get lose in the accent or the clink of his cup onto its plate being too loud. Finally, after their food arrived, Jude cleared his throat.

“So, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Jude started, fidgeting slightly with his coffee cup. Your dad set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, watching Jude with an encouraging but slightly amused expression.

“I figured.” You dad flashed Jude a smile that almost made him more nervous. “Alright, let’s hear it, fils.” He shifted slightly patiently awaiting what Jude had to say. Jude felt his heart race. This was it. No turning back now.

“I love your daughter,” Jude said, his voice more serious than it had been all morning. “I mean I really really love her.” Jude babbled nervously. “I’ve loved her for a long time, and… I want to spend my life with her. I’d like to ask for your permission to ask her to marry me.” Jude spoke quickly all at once and then he took in a deep breath. Relief, it was out but fear lingered awaiting his answer. Your dad didn’t say anything right away, he studied Jude for a moment, his expression softening. After a few long seconds, he leaned forward, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, Jude… She deserves a lot of love. A life with my petite fille is a life anyone would be lucky to have.” He cooed gently. “And I have to say, I’m not surprised.” He expressed

“Yeah, I guess it’s been coming but sir, I know how unworthy I am of the situation I’ve found myself in— that Y/N even looks my way but she does, god knows why but she does and it’s changed my life and I want to give her my life in return.” Jude nervously explained trying to justify things. Your dad sighed, his smile deepening.

“You are very lucky.” Your dad added and Jude nodded. “I don’t know how Y/N speaks to you about our family or myself, Jude. I know she and Louis think I don’t know them thoroughly but I do. There is nothing I understand more than my children. I know Y/N and she is strong. She is very kind but she is malleable. If you put her in high pressure situation she will survive but I don’t want her to have to change to do that and she’s done that often. She always will but I want her to know love. A real love, Jude. Someone who understands what she is, give her a world where she no longer has to survive. Where she no longer feels she has to be pliable or compliant to be loved.” Your dad explained to Jude the dichotomy of you.

“Sir… if I might…Selfishly I have never put many people’s needs above my own but after I met Y/N my world flipped. I can’t do anything for me without thinking of her. She is it. She is it all. My whole world is completely drenched in her. She has become my world. I do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t have to ever settle for being anything but herself." Jude explained. “I can provide for her. I want to take care of her beyond the logistics of life but provide her that love.”

“You’ve done right by her, Jude. I’ve seen how much you care for her. I’ve heard from Y/N. She’s told me. She tells me more than she’d probably ever admit but I know every fear she’s ever had has been eased by you. I trust you will not hurt her. You cannot.” Your dad told him. The vagueness and calmness of the threat sent a chill of Jude’s spine. “Jude, she is light. I will never let someone hurt her and it brings me peace knowing there is someone else on this earth who is just the same. So you’ve got my blessing, fils. But—” He paused, raising a finger playfully, “I have one condition.” Jude’s eyes widened slightly.

“Anything,” he said, ready to agree to whatever was asked of him.

“Just don’t ask her in French,” your dad said with a chuckle. “You’re a good man, but I’m not sure she’d say yes if she had to listen to you butcher that proposal. We’ll need to work on that accent of yours.” He smiled and Jude let out a breath he’d been holding. Jude let out a relieved laugh, the tension in his chest loosening.

“Yeah, I thought about that but… figured it might sound pretty rough.” Jude sighed. Your dad grinned, shaking his head. “Stick to English, lad. That’s all you need. She’ll know how much you love her without the French.” They shared a warm, comfortable laugh, and Jude felt the weight of his nerves ease into something lighter. He could do this. He was going to do this. As they finished their meal, Jude realized that his relationship with your dad had grown deeper than he’d ever expected. It wasn’t just about getting his blessing—it was about becoming part of the family, officially. When your dad hugged him as they parted ways, Jude felt ready. Now, all that was left was the proposal itself.

The stadium buzzed with energy, the tension of the England vs. France match building as fans streamed in. You were waiting in the suite when you saw your mum and Whitney arrive. The moment they spotted you, it was as if no time had passed at all. They rushed toward you, pulling you into tight embraces, both women talking over one another as they asked about your Madrid, the gallery, and everything in between.

“You look amazing, ma chérie,” your mum said, her eyes twinkling with pride. “How’s the gallery? Must be keeping you so busy, I’ve barely heard from you.” You smiled, before answering both questions.

“It’s going really well. Busy but in the best way possible. It’s been a lot, but it feels good to have my own thing out there, you know?” You cooed. Whitney squeezed your arm, her smile wide.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly. “I can’t wait to visit and see it myself.” Whitney sang. Your mum was pulled into a conversation with someone nearby, leaving you and Whitney with a rare moment of privacy. You glanced around, then leaned in, tugging Whitney aside.

“Hey, can I tell you something?” you whispered, your voice tight with emotion. Whitney’s face immediately softened, sensing the seriousness in your tone. She nodded and stepped closer. “Whit,” you began, voice soft and hesitant. She tilted her head, concern instantly flickering across her face.

“What’s going on? You okay?” She asked. You bit your lip and took a deep breath, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on your shoulders.

“I had a pregnancy scare.” But Whitney didn’t gasp, didn’t widen her eyes or ask a barrage of questions like others might have. She just looked at you, her expression soft and understanding.

“Oh,” she said gently, stepping closer. “Are you okay?” She asked gently. You took a breath, fighting the lump that was rising in your throat.

“Physically fine. But it… it was terrifying, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. Jude was there, and he was amazing, but I just—it shook me and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. Whit… I just don’t know how I feel now.” You babbled quickly. Whitney’s expression became even gentler, filled with understanding. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“I’m so sorry you went through that. That’s a lot to handle.” Her empathy was overwhelming, and it hit you like a wave. You felt the emotions rising to the surface again, the weight of what you had been carrying these past few days. You hugged her tightly, letting yourself release some of the tension in her embrace. It was the first time you allowed yourself to really feel it all again—the fear, the relief, the uncertainty. Whitney held you just as tightly, not saying anything, just letting you have the moment. She knew you well enough to know that you didn’t need advice or solutions, just someone to understand. You pulled back after a few moments, taking a deep breath.

“I’m okay now,” you said, your voice steadying. “It’s just… a lot. I don’t know what I wanted.” Whitney nodded, her eyes soft with concern but full of love.

“I’m here for you, always,” she whispered. “And if you ever need to talk about it again, I’m here.” She told you but a roar from the crowd echoed into the suite as the teams made their way out to warm up. Everyone was engrossed in the intense atmosphere but as much as you tried to get into the excitement, your mind was elsewhere. “Babe… you sure you’re okay?” She asked. The tenderness in her voice was enough to make your throat tighten, the emotions that had been swirling inside you coming to the surface. You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully feel them before now, trying to brush everything under the rug and act like everything was fine. But here, with Whitney, you felt safe enough to let it all out. You nodded, though your voice wavered.

“Yeah, I’m okay now. I mean, I wasn’t ready. Neither of us were. But still… it was really emotional, you know?” Whitney reached out, wrapping her arms around you in another tight hug.

“Of course it was. That’s a lot to go through, even if it wasn’t the right time. It’s still a big deal.” Her warmth surrounded you, and suddenly, all the fear and anxiety you’d been carrying came rushing back. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to cry about it to a friend, to feel everything fully, only with Jude but now, with her holding you so close, the tears finally spilled over. You buried your face in her shoulder, your body trembling as the emotions flowed out again. Whitney still didn’t rush you, didn’t try to fix anything or say something to make it better. She just held you, rubbing soothing circles on your back, giving you the space to let it all out. She was so mum coded. It was exactly what you needed. You wiped at your eyes with a sheepish smile, she looked at you with such compassion. “How did Jude take it?” she asked softly, her tone gentle but curious. You sniffed, trying to gather your thoughts.

“He was relieved,” you admitted, glancing at the floor. “I think he was scared, just like I was. But part of him was upset, too. He told me but I… Like… I think a small part of him had already started to imagine what it would be like.” Whitney nodded, her brow furrowed in understanding.

“That’s normal. Even if you’re not ready, the idea still creeps in, you know? It’s hard to just brush it off completely.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I mean Trent and I have gone through this. No matter what you want or what the plan might be it’s an emotional experience.” She told you.

“Yeah, exactly. And I feel… weirdly guilty about it, even though it’s not like it was something we planned. But I just… I don’t know. It’s hard to shake the feeling that I let him down somehow.” She squeezed your hand, her eyes full of empathy.

“You didn’t let him down. These things happen, and it sounds like he understands that, even if it’s complicated. You guys are on the same page about not being ready, right?” She cooed gently. You nodded quickly.

“Yeah, we are. Thankfully we talked but it's…it’s just… I don’t know. It feels like a lot all at once, and I hadn’t really processed it until now. I’ve been so caught up in everything else, trying to act like after we moved on from it, it didn’t still affect me, but… it did… it does.” You explained. Whitney gave you a small, sad smile.

“I get it. I’ve been there. And trust me, it’s okay to feel all of that. It doesn’t make you weak or wrong. It’s just part of the process.” Her words sank in, soothing the tangled mess of thoughts that had been swirling in your head. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear them until now.

“Thanks, Whit,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I just… I didn’t want to freak anyone out, you know? But I couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore.” You cooed. Whitney nodded, her expression full of understanding.

“That’s what I’m here for. And honestly, I think you’re handling it better than you give yourself credit for.” You managed a small smile, feeling a bit lighter than you had when the conversation began.

“It’s just… it’s been a lot lately. And now, with everything going on, I feel like I’m all over the place.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re doing great. And if you ever did want to think about that with him, when the time is right, it’ll happen. For now, just take things one step at a time.” The sound of the crowd beginning to rise once again bringing you both back to the moment. You needed to get to your seats. You both started walking, but Whitney’s arm stayed draped around you, keeping you grounded. Just before you reached the rest of the group, she glanced at you with a sly smile.

“So, how relieved was Jude, really? Like, scale of one to ten.” You laughed softly, wiping the last of the tears from your eyes.

“Probably an eleven,” you joked, feeling a bit more like yourself again. “But he handled it well. We both did, I guess.” Whitney grinned.

“Good. You’re stronger than you think.” She told you as you sat down. As you and Whitney sat overlooking the pitch, Whitney suddenly asked, “Has Jude given any hints about the future? You know, like… what’s next for you two especially after all this?” You glanced at her curiously, not expecting the question. Whitney looked genuinely interested, her brow furrowed in thought, but you knew her well enough to see that she didn’t have any insider information. Jude would never have told her anything—he was too careful around Whitney because he knew she couldn’t keep a secret, especially not from you.

“Has he said anything to you?” you asked, lowering your voice a bit, curious if maybe Whitney knew more than she was letting on. She shook her head quickly.

“No, I swear! After everything I told you in Paris, that’s all I know. He hasn’t said a word to me. And if he’s telling anyone, it definitely isn’t me or T. Jude knows better because Trent would blab, and then I’d hear it, and you’d know within minutes.” You laughed, knowing that was probably true. Jude and Trent were close, but Trent couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it—especially when it came to gossiping with Whitney. They’d barely managed to keep Jude’s last surprise under wraps, so you figured Jude had learned his lesson.

“But,” Whitney added, lowering her voice even more conspiratorially, “there is one little thing. My Teddy girl—bless her —might’ve spilled something.” You blinked, caught off guard.

“What? What did she say?” Whitney grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“No, I mean it’s just Teddy being a cutie but the other day, she came up to me in the kitchen while I was cooking and just asked, out of nowhere, ‘Are Judey and Y/N married?’ I mean she’s three now she doesn’t know what’s happening, but it made me laugh. Like, maybe she knows something we don’t.” She smiled.

“She really asked that?” You giggled, the image of little Teddy asking that kind of question warming your heart.

“Yeah! I had to tell her no, but she looked at me like I was crazy for not knowing. But you know how Teddy is—she doesn’t understand how secrets work.” Whitney rolled her eyes playfully. “I tried not to read into it too much, but I swear the boys tell Teddy everything just because she’ll laugh at their jokes and she’s cute.” You both laughed together, but even though it was a joke, Whitney’s words planted a small seed in your mind. Marriage? Jude? You imagined it for a second—the idea of him wanting that with you—and it made you feel warm, like the thought was something you could get used to. You’d never had a serious conversation about marriage, but the thought of Jude wanting to make things that official sent a flutter of excitement through you.

“I mean,” you said, still smiling but feeling a bit bashful, “I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he did want that.” You shyly admitted. Whitney raised her eyebrow, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Oh? Getting sentimental now, are we?” You nudged her playfully.

“Shut up! It’s just… I don’t know. It’s cute to think about. Teddy must’ve overheard something, or maybe she’s just that intuitive. I mean, Jude’s always been great with her. I love seeing him with her.” You unnecessarily explained. She could read between the lines. Whitney grinned knowingly.

“He really is so good with her. I think she’s a little obsessed with him, to be honest though. She’s worse than you.” She teased. You giggled again, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you watched the game kick off. But even as you tried to focus, that seed Whitney planted kept growing, and you couldn’t help but wonder what Jude was really thinking. The idea of marriage, of your future together, felt so much more tangible now, even if it was still just an innocent question from a toddler. Maybe there was more to it than you thought. And then forty five minutes later as the half wrapped and the tension started to fade momentarily, you and Whitney found a quieter moment to step aside and talk. You’d both been distracted by Whitney sharing Teddy’s innocent remark about marriage earlier, and it seemed like the right time to address what had been lingering in your mind.

“You know,” you began, keeping your voice low as you watched the crowd disperse, “I never really thought I’d want marriage. Not until… recently.” Whitney turned to you, her brow raised in curiosity.

“Really? Even with Jude?” You nodded, fidgeting with your jacket zipper, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, even with Jude. I mean, I just didn’t see it for myself. There was nothing really ever there but I made a choice not to be with someone like a Gabriel because I didn’t want a serious plan like that. I knew I had a different path, and it didn’t involve a wedding or a white picket fence. I could’ve had that with someone like that, but I didn’t want it.” Whitney tilted her head, listening carefully.

“Do you regret that? Like, not wanting it with someone like Gabriel?” She asked not jugmentally just interested. You thought for a moment, shaking your head.

“No, I don’t regret it at all. I made the choices I needed to at the time. Gabriel could’ve been safe, you know? Like I’d be married now with someone I probably would never actually love. It would’ve been a more traditional life, but I didn’t want that back then. I didn’t want anything that serious.” You explained hoping Whitney understood. Whitney nodded.

“But Jude’s different.” She said. You weren’t sure if she was asking or telling you. You smiled softly, thinking about how much you had changed since you’d met Jude.

“Yeah, Jude’s different. It’s funny, because now, with him, I feel like I’m in something more serious than I ever thought I’d want. And it doesn’t scare me. If anything, it’s like I actually want it now.” You earnestly confessed.

“So, you want marriage?” Whitney gave you a knowing look. You exhaled, the words feeling strange yet right as you said them.

“Yeah. I think I do. I couldn’t have imagined it before, but now? With him? It feels… right. Like it’s the next step because it’s like everything I want is to be his that way. I honestly can’t believe I even say I want to be ‘his’ like before Greece I would wince saying that.” You shyly said with a shake of the head.

“Do you think Jude’s thinking about it too?” Whitney leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. You shrugged, a bit unsure but a little shocked at how much you hoped he had.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t really said anything. But sometimes, it feels like he’s been… hinting at something. I mean, the way he’s been acting… it’s like he’s building up to something.” You confessed reflecting. Whitney smirked.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. But Jude’s a grand gesture guy… we’ll have to know ahead of it like come on… how do we not know!” She giggled. You laughed, a little nervously.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s like he’d have to have a big plan and it makes me what to scream, but I don’t want to get my hopes up, you know?” You confessed. Both of you a little delusional in hope. Whitney placed a reassuring hand on your arm.

“You deserve to get your hopes up. And Jude? He’s head over heels for you. Whatever’s coming, I think it’s going to be something good.” She smiled reassuringly. You smiled at her, feeling a sense of comfort in her words. The thought of marriage, of taking that next step with Jude, wasn’t as terrifying as it had once seemed. Instead, it felt like something you actually wanted, something you were ready for. Before you met Jude, the idea of settling down, of marriage, had felt stifling, like it would hold you back from the freedom and independence you craved. You were happy carving your own path, not tied down by anyone. The concept of someone like Gabriel had offered you stability, but it never felt like the kind of love you could build a life around. It was safe, predictable, but not… right. Boring. But with Jude, it was a kind of love that was everything you didn’t know you wanted. Before you could say another word, your mum sat next to you, her cheery voice cutting through the emotional moment. You and Whitney exchanged a knowing look as you quickly collected yourselves. You couldn’t let your mum suspect anything—not today, not with everything else going on.

“So, what were you two whispering about?” your mum asked with a teasing grin, completely unaware of the gravity of the topics that had just passed.

“Nothing, just catching up,” Whitney said smoothly, her smile easy and natural. You forced a smile too, your emotions tucked back inside for now.

“Yeah, just usual Whit and Y/N chat,” you added, glancing at Whitney with gratitude. The game ticked on, and you were grateful for the Whitney. You couldn’t dwell on the scare or grow anxious about the future right now and having Whitney’s quiet support made it all a little easier to bear.

France 2- England 1. The Bellingham goal at the ‘53rd minute wasn’t enough. The stadium had emptied, and the once electric atmosphere had faded into the quiet hum of people dispersing. You sat with your dad in the aftermath, the loss hanging heavy over the evening like an unwelcome cloud. Your fingers picked at your cuticle—a nervous habit you hadn’t quite shaken—and you already knew you’d regret it later when the skin was sore. The stress of the game, the nerves, the tension… it was all too much to sit still with. You turned to your dad, your voice quieter than usual.

“What if Jude’s mad?” You asked him. The question hung in the air, and you immediately regretted saying it out loud, as though voicing it somehow made it more real. You could read your dad and at the moment he was silently smug about the win, that France came out on top but he’d never tease Jude about a loss like that so as you watched his face change your heart stilled. Your dad glanced at you, his eyes filled with the kind of warmth and wisdom that only a father could possess. He didn’t laugh, didn’t make you feel silly for asking. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on your knee.

“He won’t be mad, ma petite fille. He’ll be upset with the result and all he’ll want is to just see you. Il t'aime tellement.” [He he loves you so much] His words were simple, but they grounded you. Your dad had always been able to calm your overthinking, to reassure you when your mind spiraled. And he was right—Jude had never taken his frustrations out on you. After a loss, he sought comfort in your presence, in your quiet support. You felt a little better, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach refused to completely untangle itself. When Jude finally arrived, you spotted him before he saw you. His stride was slower than usual, his shoulders slouched under the weight of defeat. The bright stadium lights seemed too harsh against the somberness of his expression, and you could tell immediately that he was hurting. Not from anger, but from the disappointment that clung to him like a shadow. He spotted you, and in an instant, the exhaustion in his eyes softened. He made his way toward you, not saying a word, just wrapping his arms around you as soon as he reached your side. His hug was tight, needy, and you instinctively pulled him closer, pressing your face against his chest. Jude swayed gently with you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin. You could feel the subtle pout of his lips against your neck, a silent indication of how frustrated and defeated he felt.

“My angel,” he mumbled, his voice low and muffled, but there was no anger there, just longing. Just a deep exhaustion and the need for comfort. You held him a little tighter, smoothing your hand up and down his back.

“I’m here, baby” you whispered, your words barely audible. That’s all he needed. Just you, grounding him, pulling him away from the weight of the match. “Did your best, Judey.” You whispered again comfortingly. After a moment, Jude pulled back, though his hand stayed on your waist, his thumb brushing lightly against your side. He turned to greet your parents and Whitney, Louis there too, some of Trent’s family too who stood nearby, giving you both a bit of space.

“Jude,” your dad said, giving him a sympathetic smile as he clasped his shoulder. “Tough game, but you did well.”

“Thank you,” Jude muttered, forcing a small smile. He greeted your mom and Whitney, his voice soft and polite, but you could tell his heart wasn’t fully in it. He was still somewhere between the loss and the comfort of your arms. Yet there was something else there too, just beneath the surface. His gaze kept flicking back to you, as if he was carrying a secret, one that he was keeping from everyone in the room—especially you. You didn’t pick up on it at first, too focused on comforting him. But there was a quiet excitement in the way he looked at you, a flicker in his eyes that told you he was holding back something much bigger than the result of the game. Your conversation with Whitney earlier making you think too much about his glances. The frustration of the match still weighed on him, but there was a small part of him that was already looking ahead—to you, to the future, to the question he had asked your dad to ask you. You leaned back into him, letting the warmth of his embrace settle you. His arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you rested your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming the last of your nerves. You could feel his hand gently squeezing yours, a silent reassurance that he was okay. That you both were okay. As the conversation flowed around you, you caught glimpses of the flickering excitement in Jude’s eyes, though you had no idea what it meant. It was almost as if, despite the loss, there was something he was holding onto, something bigger than football that was occupying his thoughts. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering just a little longer than usual, his grip around your waist tightening. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

“You alright, baby?” you asked quietly, your voice filled with concern. He gave you a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but held a tenderness that was unmistakable.

“I’m better now,” he murmured, his voice soft. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside the stadium fading away. Jude’s loss felt smaller when you were with him, like it didn’t matter as much when he had you. And even though the night hadn’t gone as planned, you knew that something bigger was brewing beneath the surface—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on but that Jude was holding onto with a secretive anticipation.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 24 - Falling Into Place xx

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