#like. this will break him. but i need to see HOW he acts when hes broken

[joemama-2]

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: 16.7k

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

series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist

Who needs enemies when you have people like a shitty landlord, an evil woman who calls herself Satoru’s “girlfriend”, and of course—a deadbeat, horrible mother. A mother who cares more about herself than the baby she carried for nine months, the one who didn’t care whether you heard about her “special activities” that took place late at night when she thought you were sleeping, a mother who values materialistic things more than family. The kind of mother who’s holding onto you for dear life like you’ve just come back from the army. You feel completely disgusted, utterly infuriated by the act she’s putting on. You wish you had the strength to push her off immediately, but it seems that even time can’t heal certain wounds. 

How annoying.

“I missed you so much, baby girl,” your mother says, rubbing your arms up and down in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting manner. “What have you been up to? Oh, you’ve grown so big! I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes drift over to your right, landing first on Satoru. The tick in her jaw is unmistakable. And when she looks down at the much younger boy, blinking his wide eyes up at her curiously, you of all people know best she’s this close to lashing out. Her smile dampens, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

As if on cue, you bring Koji behind your back. When she peers up at you, lip curling in preparation for a tiny scoff, Satoru steps in front of you. 

His presence is an like immovable wall, his towering frame casting a long shadow over your mother. You don’t even need to see his face to know the expression he’s wearing—sharp, unamused, and carrying that thinly veiled amusement that only makes him more infuriating to people like her. “Ah, so you do remember me,” Satoru drawls, his tone bordering on mockery. “Was starting to think you might’ve conveniently forgotten.”

Your mother’s nostrils flare. “Of course, I remember you,” she says, voice sickly sweet, but there’s an underlying venom in it, a warning that you know all too well. “How could I forget you? But I’m not here for the likes of you.”

You bite your tongue, fingers twitching at Koji’s small body pressed behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know he’s peering around your waist, big blue eyes filled with confusion. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and doesn’t recognize the tension seeping into the air like a poisonous fog. And you want it to stay that way. “Why are you here?” you ask, keeping your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

Your mother’s eyes flick back to you, sidestepping slightly, and for a split second, something ugly flashes across her face—resentment, bitterness, something you’ve been familiar with since childhood. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by a saccharine smile that makes your skin crawl. “Can’t a mother come to see her daughter after all these years?” she says, feigning hurt. “I just— I missed you, baby. I wanted to make things right.”

A cold laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down. You don’t believe her. Not for a second.

Satoru scoffs, shifting on his feet as he crosses his arms. “Right. And I’m the tooth fairy.”

The air around you feels tight, suffocating like a noose slowly constricting around your neck. You can feel the weight of the past pressing down on you, every horrible memory clawing its way back up, threatening to drown you. She doesn’t get to do this. She doesn’t get to waltz back into your life like she’s entitled to it. “I don’t have time for this,” you say, finally finding your voice. You shift Koji further behind you, fingers tightening around his small hand. “You need to leave.”

Her smile wavers, her perfectly painted lips twitching at the edges. “Baby—”

“Don’t call me that.”

The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t regret them. Not when her expression finally cracks, revealing the ugly truth beneath.

For a second, just a second, she looks like she might actually argue. Like she might lash out the way she used to when you were younger—when she’d lose her temper and hurl words like daggers, words meant to make you feel small, to break you. But she holds it all within a facade, eyebrows simply raising as a chuckle of disbelief leaves her lips. “Oh, so…this is how you’ve become all these years while I wasn’t around? First, you’re pushing me away, and second, you’re doing it for what? For…this?” She gestures to the three of you in a lazy manner. “Plus, I get to meet my grandson, do I not? That’s one of the privileges of being a grandmother.” The word leaves a bad taste in her mouth like she can’t fathom the fact that she is indeed one.

You feel your stomach churn, bile rising in your throat. Grandmother. The word sounds wrong coming from her like it doesn’t belong—like it should disintegrate the moment it leaves her lips. Your grip on Koji tightens, and you feel him shift slightly behind you. He doesn’t understand the reality of what’s happening, but he senses it—how the air is heavier, how your body is tenser.

Satoru, beside you, lets out a low, amused hum. “Privilege?” he echoes, tilting his head as if the word itself is funny. “You think being a grandmother is a privilege you’re just automatically entitled to?”

Haruka’s lips press into a thin line, her fingers twitching as she folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why not,” she says coolly. “Blood is blood. Family is family.”

You scoff, the sound dry and bitter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She narrows her eyes, but you don’t stop. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you have some sort of claim over my son and I,” you say, voice unwavering despite the storm inside you. “You lost the right to be my family a long time ago.”

Her nostrils flare slightly, but she doesn’t lash out, doesn’t throw the fit you know is bubbling under her carefully constructed mask. Instead, she exhales slowly through her nose, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I see,” she murmurs. “So you’ve been brainwashed.” Her gaze flickers to Satoru, mirth pooling in her eyes. “By him.”

Satoru actually laughs. A full, genuine laugh like she’s just told him the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, that’s good,” he muses. “That’s real good.” Then, his laughter fades, replaced by something much sharper, much colder. “Hate to break it to you, lady, but your daughter has a brain of her own. And she knows exactly who’s worth keeping in her life.”

Your mother’s jaw tightens and it looks like she might slap him. But then her gaze falls back on you, assessing, calculating. You brace yourself for whatever she’s about to say, but somehow, it still knocks the air from your lungs. “You think you’re any better than me?” she asks, voice laced with condescension. “You think just because you ran away, just because you played house with him, that you’re suddenly the perfect little mother? Sweetheart, you are me. You’ll see that soon enough.”

But you won’t let her win. Not this time. Your fingers tighten around Koji’s, grounding yourself, and when you speak, your voice is unwavering.

“The difference between us,” you say slowly, deliberately, “is that I would never do to my son what you did to me.”

A flicker of something—shock?—crosses her face. Then, she steps back, smoothing a hand over her coat like she’s wiping something unpleasant off of her.

“Well.” Her tone is clipped, her posture stiff. “I suppose we’ll just have to see about that.”

“I’m no—”

“But look at this!” Her arms widen as she steps back, a dramatic sweep of her gaze taking in the lingering eyes and hushed whispers of the other families. Some look away quickly, feigning disinterest, while others openly stare, their curiosity outweighing their manners. You swallow hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. The attention prickles against your skin like a thousand tiny needles, suffocating and unrelenting. “It’s truly such a picture-perfect scene,” your mother continues, her voice dripping with mockery. “A loving man, a beautiful child, and you, playing the devoted mother.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with something cruel. “Tell me, do you ever stop to wonder when it’ll all fall apart?”

Satoru shifts beside you, his jaw tightening. You can feel the protective energy radiating off of him, the way he’s this close to stepping in and shutting her down. But you don’t want him to—not yet.

Because she’s wrong.

Because she doesn’t get to do this. Not anymore.

You take a deep breath, straightening your spine. “You don’t know anything about my life,” you say, voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest. “And you sure as hell don’t get to stand here and act like you do.”

Your mother clicks her tongue, unimpressed. “I know enough,” she muses, her gaze flicking back to Koji. You immediately shift, shielding him with your body.

Her lips curl into a smirk. “You can try to keep him away from me all you want. But at the end of the day, you’ll realize that blood isn’t something you can run from. Besides Y/N, I still love you, I always have and always will.”

The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

Koji, sensing the tension, clings to your leg, small fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. You don’t dare look down at him, don’t want to acknowledge just how much of this he’s absorbing. Satoru exhales sharply, patience finally wearing thin. “I think we’re done here,” he says, voice clipped, his hand resting firmly on your lower back. A quiet but undeniable claim. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, he’s ushering you and Koji to his car, pushing past your mother who stumbles back a bit on her two feet. She scoffs and stares daggers into your heads, but neither you nor Satoru look back. Wordlessly, he’s opening the passenger door for you, opening the back for Koji, and helping him get into his booster seat. He closes both doors with finality, rounding the car and going to the driver’s side. Before he opens it, he looks back over at Haruka. “You stay away from all of us. I have a good set of lawyers.”

“Is that a threat?” She calls out.

“It’s a promise,” is all he says before getting in and shutting the door. He’s quickly starting the car and driving you both away from the mess your mother’s arrival had made. Quiet envelops the interior of the car. Koji peering at his father and then you, biting his lip and swinging his feet back and forth in an antsy way. “Mama, why did the woman look like you? Is she grandma?”

But you don’t say anything. Focusing on the loose thread of your coat sleeve, fingers clenched tightly. Your body is stiff as a board like it’s anticipating something. Satoru peeks at you from the corner of his eye and after he assesses you won’t be saying anything, he looks forward. “She is.”

Koji tilts his head, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But… you don’t like her?”

Still, you don’t answer. Your fingers curl around the loose thread, twisting it between your thumb and forefinger. Your pulse is loud in your ears, drowning out the steady hum of the engine.

Satoru’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “No,” he says simply. “Mama doesn’t.”

Koji goes quiet for a moment, digesting the information in his small way. Then, with the kind of innocence only a child could possess, he mumbles, “Then I don’t like her either.”

Something inside you clenches painfully, but still, you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

Satoru sighs, reaching out with one hand to gently squeeze your thigh, fingers firm but reassuring. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you’re here, in the present—not trapped in memories you don’t want to relive. “She’s not gonna bother us,” Satoru murmurs, eyes flicking toward you again. “I won’t let her.”

You want to believe him.

You need to believe him.

But as the car speeds down the road, your heart tells you otherwise. Your mother never shows up without a reason. And whatever she wants this time…

It won’t be simple.

“I…I don’t know what she could possibly want from me,” you mutter shakily, face screwing up at the familiar burn of tears at your eyelids. 

“Don’t worry about that, don’t worry about anything. She’s not going to bother you and if she does, I’m right here.” His thumbs are small, soft back and forth motions on your thigh. The gesture brings you a tiny sense of serenity. In other circumstances, you would’ve pushed him away and told him not to do that anymore. However, you find yourself doing the opposite. Dwelling in his touch, hesitantly putting your hand on top of the back of his. His palm turns upright and carefully intertwines your fingers with his. 

Your heart does somersaults. 

He brings your hand up over to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “She’s wrong, you know,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, meant only for you.

You gulp. “...about what?”

“Everything.” 

The word lingers between you, settling into the silence like a whisper of reassurance, a promise unspoken yet deeply felt.

Everything.

That you’re like her. That you’ll turn into her. That you’re anything less than the mother Koji deserves, the woman he—Satoru—still sees beneath all the walls you’ve built. Your fingers twitch against his, gripping just a little tighter. The warmth of his hand is grounding, pulling you away from the storm inside your head. You inhale slowly, trying to steady your trembling chest, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. Your head turns towards the window, biting down on a quivering lip as the car comes to a halt at a red light.

Koji—truly unaware of the depth of the moment passing between his parents, but still trying to integrate himself somehow. “Papa, are we going home?”

Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you when he answers.

“Yeah, kid,” he says, squeezing your hand. “We’re going home.”

“This is my son, Satoru.” Yamato’s voice greets the pair of father and son as they enter the conference room. They shake hands and Yamato sits back down next to Satoru, who’s currently leaning back in his seat with a blank look, swiveling from side to side. Yamato nudges his son’s foot under the table in silent command.

“Nice to meet you,” Satoru says, still not rising from his seat.

“Nice to meet you, this is my daughter, Himari.”

Kenji ushers his daughter to sit down next to him, both of them across from Yamato and Satoru. Already, he’s dreading this. In typical boy nature, his eyes rake up and down the girl sending him a coy smile, biting the inside of his cheek in confliction. Sure, she’s pretty. Brown hair, pretty brown eyes, a slender figure, a nice glow to her complexion. But she’s not you. It’s only been a year and a half and Satoru still can’t rid his mind of you. Certain scents, music, and places, they all remind him of you. He’s not sure if he hates it. His father, ever the businessman, has sprouted the seed in his ear about him moving on and that his “friend’s” daughter is single. He always brushed him off, but of course, he can’t run away from his duties forever. 

Her lips don’t even look twice as delicious as yours did. 

Still, Satoru plasters on a charming—if not slightly detached—smile as Himari tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning shyness. He knows this game, knows the expectations that sit heavily between their fathers, silent yet thunderous. Himari tilts her head slightly, watching him with interest. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Satoru,” she says smoothly, her voice pleasant but calculated. “Our fathers talk about you a lot.”

Satoru leans back further in his chair, legs spreading just enough to make himself comfortable but not enough to look sloppy. His father would kill him for that. “All good things, I hope.”

Kenji lets out a good-natured chuckle. “Of course. Himari’s been quite interested in meeting you, you know.”

“Oh?” His gaze flickers to her, catching the way she twirls a ring around her finger. Flirtation, subtle and practiced.

He can already tell what this is—what they expect. A business transaction wrapped in tradition and expectation, sealed with marriage papers. A pretty wife from a good family, one that would benefit them both. But Satoru has never been one to follow a script. His mind drifts, unbidden, to you. To how you never needed to be calculated to get his attention, to how your laughter wasn’t poised but effortless, how you never looked at him with an agenda, only with love. That’s what’s missing here. That’s why his chest feels tight, why the scent of jasmine perfume instead of your lingering marshmallow, floraly makes his stomach churn. Because no matter how pretty Himari is, no matter how perfectly poised she sits across from him, she isn’t you.

And she never will be.

The rest of the conversation flowed in one ear and out the other. The only thing keeping him somewhat grounded to Earth was the feel of her foot playfully caressing his leg up and down under the table. The first time it happened, he cleared his throat in awkwardness, shifting in his seat in hopes she’d get the memo. Instead, she only moves her chair closer to the table, extending her leg out slightly more. Yep, pushy.

“....as I was saying before, Yamato. Tenka Couture can give the Gojo Group exactly what they need. We can help you expand into the fashion and entertainment markets. Even international ones. Together, we can both strive globally.”

Kenji's voice carries on, confident and smooth, but Satoru barely registers a word. His fingers drum against the polished mahogany table, his expression unreadable as he feels Himari's foot trail further up his leg. He exhales sharply through his nose, schooling his face into neutrality. If his father notices his discomfort, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Yamato is far too focused on the conversation at hand, nodding along as Kenji lists off strategic benefits, figures, and projections. Satoru flicks a glance at Himari. She’s watching him through her lashes, lips curled into a knowing smirk. She’s enjoying this—enjoying testing him, enjoying the idea that she has any sort of power over him.

It grates on his nerves.

His mind drifts again.

Would you have done this? No—definitely not like this. You were never one for games, never one to wrap yourself in artifice. When you touched him, it wasn’t planned. It was because you wanted to. Because you loved him. And yet, here he is, sitting across from someone who doesn’t even know him, who only wants what he represents.

He sighs, his patience wearing thin. “Sounds like a great deal,” Yamato replies, leaning forward. “But tell me, Kenji—what exactly is the catch?”

“Well,” Kenji chuckles and laces his fingers together. “Of course, I believe the best way to go about this is through our children. Although I know this is the modern era and I don’t wish to put a rush on things, I think it would be best if my lovely daughter married within at least…ten years. It gives them enough time to get acquainted with one another, and us enough time to grow closer as businesses.” 

Satoru feels his stomach turn. Marriage. Of course, that’s what this is really about. It was never just about business—it was about leverage. About power. About cementing alliances in the most permanent way possible. His grip tightens on the armrest of his chair, fingers digging into the fabric. Himari’s smirk only widens, like she’s already won, like she knows he won’t fight it.

Because what choice does he have?

Yamato doesn’t even hesitate. “That’s a reasonable timeline,” he muses, nodding. “It allows them to build a solid foundation, get used to each other. I think it’s a wise decision. But if you don’t keep up your end of this deal, there will be consequences.”

Satoru’s jaw ticks. Ten years. Ten years of forced interactions, of pretending, of playing the role his father expects of him. Ten years of being bound to someone who is nothing more than a stranger. Ten years without you. Kenji leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Of course, it’s all up to them in the end. But I trust that with time, they’ll see the benefits of this arrangement.”

Himari finally pulls her foot away from his leg, but the ghost of her touch lingers like an itch he can’t scratch. Satoru exhales slowly, forcing himself to stay composed. He knows how this game works. Knows his father expects compliance, and knows he has to play along—for now. But deep down, something in him burns. Because you’re still out there. Because despite everything, despite time and distance, he knows exactly who he wants.

And it isn’t her.

But despite everything, he found himself wrapped in her sheets exactly one week from the dreaded meeting. The sex was okay, but he couldn’t stop your face. The days passed on in a slow manner, and over that course, he was slowly beginning to heal from you and your guys’ relationship. He stopped feeling guilty for being intimate with another woman and he was able to visit that cute cafe you loved so much without feeling nauseous as soon as he stepped in. However, he didn’t even actually make it official with Himari until he just turned 27. 

He remembers a conversation with Himari. 

“I want a lot of children.”

Satoru had merely hummed in response, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he leaned back into the plush seat of the lounge they were in. It was late, the warm glow of the ambient lighting casting soft shadows over Himari’s face. She looked expectant, eyes searching his for a reaction.

“You do?” he finally said, taking a slow sip.

“Yes,” she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “At least three or four. I want a big family.”

He glanced at her over the rim of his glass, expression unreadable.

“I just think it’s important, you know? Family. My parents worked so hard to build what we have, and I want to continue that. Raise my children in a secure environment, with traditions, stability…” She paused, tilting her head. “Don’t you?”

Satoru’s grip on his glass tightened.

Once upon a time, he might have said yes. Might have dreamed about what it would be like to have a family of his own. But that was before. Before he learned that love wasn’t enough to keep someone from leaving. Before he learned that no matter how tightly he held onto something, it could still slip through his fingers. Back then, he had imagined forever with someone.

Now, he wasn’t sure he even believed in the word.

So instead, he just offered a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, swirling the last remnants of his drink. “That sounds nice.” Himari beamed, satisfied, but Satoru only glanced away, gaze settling on the ice melting in his glass.

He’s always thought back to that conversation. Did he want kids? Did he want a big family? Hell, he doesn’t even know. 

But now, as he watches you and his only son curled up on the couch together, holding each other as you both sleep peacefully. He can still make out the redness around your eyes from your earlier crying session while Koji was busy playing with his toys. Comforting you felt easy to him—like second nature. And you welcomed his words, his hug, even the very small, faint kiss he planted on your temple. 

He feels a little bit like a creep just watching you guys sleep. But now, the answer has come to him. 

He wants a big family with you. He’ll quite literally die from happiness overload if you have more of his kids. Maybe the next one will look more like you?

His face scrunches up, holding his chest and falling back onto the free cushion of the couch. It feels like his heart is being squeezed, in a good and bad way—like something warm and unbearable all at once. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s stupid to never realize just how much he’s always wanted this. A family. A home. Something real, something his. And now that he knows it’s possible, now that he has Koji, has you back in his life in some fragile, complicated way, the thought of losing it again makes his stomach twist.

He turns his head, watching the slow, even rise and fall of your breaths. Koji is nestled against you, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. His son. His.

Satoru lifts a hand to his chest, pressing his palm over the ache. He thinks of all the years he missed, all the moments he could have had. First words, first steps, birthdays, bedtime stories—things that should have been his to witness. He should be angry. Maybe he still is. But right now, he just feels...overwhelmed.

A soft noise leaves your lips as you shift slightly in your sleep, your brow twitching like you’re dreaming. Without thinking, he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger a second too long before he pulls back, swallowing hard.

God, he’s so fucked.

Because now that he knows what he wants—now that he knows he wants this family with you—he has no idea how to keep it. Or if you even feel the same way. But the way your face relaxes ever so slightly, subconsciously leaning into his touch, he starts to believe that he may not be the only one.

“So, are you going to be putting your two weeks in?”

“What? I mean, I haven’t been looking at other jobs yet.”

Hana hums silently, cleaning the counter. Your brows furrow in confusion at her behavior. She’s not being outwardly rude, but you can sense something is still on her mind. “You’re not…upset I’m moving, are you? We talked about this.”

Hana lets out a soft sigh, setting the cloth down before turning to face you fully. “I know we did,” she says, crossing her arms. “But talking about it and actually seeing it happen are two different things, you know?”

You tilt your head, watching her carefully. “I thought you were happy for me.”

“I am,” she insists, but there’s something tight about the way she says it. “It’s just… you’re really leaving. And I guess I thought—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

Your frown deepens. “Hana.”

She exhales through her nose, looking away. “It’s just… I thought you’d maybe consider staying. That something—someone—would make you stay.”

Your stomach twists. You don’t need her to say who she’s talking about. “Hana…”

She waves a hand, forcing a smile. “Forget it. It’s your choice. I just— I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.”

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down, managing a small smile. “I’m gonna miss you too. We’ll still stay in touch, even after I find a job out there, I promise.” Your arms encircle her waist in a hug, to which she reciprocates. 

“I know,” she murmurs, squeezing you tightly. “But it won’t be the same.”

You rest your chin on her shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla that clings to her. “Nothing stays the same forever, Hana.”

She huffs a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, yeah. Look at you, all wise and mature now.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her playfully. “I’ve always been wise. You just refused to acknowledge it.”

Hana smirks. “Sure, sure. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off living your new fancy life.”

“Never.” You say it with conviction, and you mean it. No matter what changes, she’ll always be a part of your life. 

Hana studies your face for a moment before sighing. “Alright, enough of this sentimental crap. Let’s finish cleaning up before we open.” You laugh, but as you turn back to your task, you can’t help but feel the weight of her words settle deep in your chest.

You grab a rag to clean up the tables, but just as you do so, Hana’s phone that was laying up right near the register dings with a text message. You glance over carelessly, the ping catching your attention. But what you didn’t expect to see was someone’s name that sends bolts of frustration up your body. Brows knitting in the middle with your lip down turning. You lean forward to get a closer look, but the phone is being snatched from your vision. Looking up, Hana’s face has contorted into what you can assume is guilt, shoving the device in her back pocket. A moment of silence passes between you two.

“....Hana, why the fuck are you still texting Naoya?”

Hana stiffens, her fingers tightening around the rag in her hands. “It’s not what you think,” she mutters, turning away to wipe down the counter with unnecessary force.

Your stomach twists. “Not what I think?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Hana, I thought we agreed—no, you agreed—that he was bad news. That you were done with him.”

She exhales sharply, still avoiding your eyes. “I was done. I am done.”

“Bullshit.” You toss your rag onto the nearest table and cross your arms. “If you were done, you wouldn’t be hiding your phone from me like a guilty teenager.”

She finally looks at you, jaw tight. “It’s not that simple.”

Your patience is wearing thin. “It is that simple. You cut him off, like you said you would. You don’t let him manipulate you again, Hana. You don’t let him back in.”

She flinches at your words, and for a moment, you see the conflict flash across her face. Then, just as quickly, she schools her expression into something neutral, almost detached. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but this is my business. Not yours.”

You stare at her, feeling like you’ve just been slapped. “Not my business?” You shake your head in disbelief. “After everything he’s done? After how he treated you? You really think I’m just gonna stand here and pretend I don’t care? He left you to the wolves shitfaced and let you almost do hard drugs, Hana.”

Her gaze drops, but she doesn’t respond.

“Hana,” you say, softer this time. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

She hesitates, fingers curling at her sides. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she says, “He said he’s changed.”

Your breath catches. The frustration in your chest morphs into something heavier—something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Changed? You think a guy like that has changed within only a week or two?”

“He apologized, Y/N. He came over and—”

“You let him come over?” You scoff out in disbelief. 

Hana’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t meet your eyes. “It wasn’t like that. He just… showed up. He wanted to talk.”

“And you let him in?” Your voice rises despite yourself, frustration bubbling over. “After everything he put you through that night, you actually listened to him?”

Her shoulders stiffen. “People can change, Y/N.”

“Not him,” you say flatly. “Not Naoya. You know that. We talked about this.”

She exhales sharply, gripping the rag like it’s the only thing grounding her. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do,” you counter. “I get it too well, Hana. Because I was there. I was the one picking up the pieces. And now you’re telling me that a few days is all it takes for him to be a better man?” Hana stays quiet, but you can see the cracks forming in her expression—the doubt, the guilt. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Look, I love you. And I know it’s hard to walk away from someone like him. But he hasn’t changed. He’s just found a new way to manipulate you. I don’t want you going through something like that again.”

Her lip trembles, and for a second, you think she might break. But then she forces out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “You always think you know what’s best for me, don’t you?”

You stare at her, caught off guard. “That’s not what this is about—”

“Isn’t it?” She meets your gaze now, eyes flashing. “You can’t control me, Y/N. I’m not some helpless kid who needs saving.”

Your heart sinks. “I’m not trying to control you, Hana. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

She swallows hard, looking away. “I can handle myself.”

“Yes, you can. But I’m your friend, that’s what friends are for.”

“Are you my friend, Y/N?” She huffs out, throwing the rag on the counter and crossing her arms. “Because from what I see, it’s kind of hard to believe that. You rarely like coming out with me anymore, you take days to respond to my texts, and I only see you at work.”

Your jaw grits, putting your rag down. “It’s not like that. You know I’m busy with Koji, with Satoru, with everything. I’m trying to be here for you in every way that I can be.”

Hana scoffs, shaking her head. “Right. And somehow, ‘being here for me’ means judging me every time I make a decision you don’t like?”

Your chest tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She throws her hands up. “I get it, Y/N. You have a whole life outside of this job—outside of me. And I’ve tried to be okay with it, I really have. But it just feels like… like I’m not a priority to you anymore.” Her words hit harder than you expect. You part your lips to argue, but nothing comes out. Because, deep down, you know she’s not entirely wrong. Hana exhales, her shoulders sagging. “I miss you, Y/N. And yeah, maybe Naoya isn’t the best decision. But at least he wants to be around me.”

That stings. More than it should. You run a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. “Hana…”

But she’s already turning away, grabbing the rag from the counter. “Forget it. We still have stuff to clean.”

The weight of it lingers as you watch her move away, your stomach twisting with something between guilt and frustration. But you’ve always been persistent. Your feet work with a mind of their own, following her to the section of booths in the corner. “Hana, stop this, okay?”

“Stop what?”

“Stop making stupid decisions, please.”

“So you can have a man who can give you anything under the sun, but when I do it, it’s wrong.”

You grab hold of her arm to stop her. “What the hell? Are you serious? Is that why you’re going after him? Because he has money. And Satoru and I aren’t even together, Hana. What are you talking about?”

“And so what if I’m doing it for the money?!” She yanks her arm back. “Why is it so fucking wrong of me to want security?”

“Because it’s shallow and not like you.”

Hana’s eyes flash with anger, and for a second, you think she’s going to snap. But instead, she takes a deep breath, clenching her jaw. “I’m not asking for your approval, Y/N. You’ve never understood me, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not the same person I used to be, but I’m doing what I think is best for me right now. You and Satoru have your perfect little world, but I don’t have that. I don’t even have my own damn apartment without scrambling for rent every month.”

Her words cut through the air, harsh and raw. You didn’t realize how much the frustration had been building for her until now. “I’m struggling too—”

“Not when you have a fucking billionaire baby daddy,” she swiftly interrupts you.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and the guilt from earlier rises again, twisting in your chest, biting your lip hard. "That's not fair, Hana. You know things aren’t perfect with him and me. You think just because things aren't goinging great for you, it's okay to throw everything you’ve built away for something that isn’t real?"

Hana exhales sharply, wiping her face with a frustrated hand. "You think I don’t know that? I’m just trying to survive, Y/N."

"Survive?" You step closer, your voice trembling. "You think this is survival? I’m not telling you what to do. But you're choosing him over us—over yourself. You know Naoya isn’t good for you. What happens when the money’s gone, or when he gets bored?"

Her eyes meet yours, hard and unflinching. "I don’t need your pity, okay? And I don’t need you to tell me what’s best for me. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

For a long, tense moment, the silence hangs heavy between you two. You want to keep fighting, to say something that’ll make her see reason, but you don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. She’s made up her mind. “Hana…” you start, but she cuts you off, her tone icy.

“Just drop it, okay? I’m not going to continue having this argument with you.”

Your heart aches, but you nod, stepping back slowly. She won’t listen to reason right now. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve been pushing too hard. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice smaller than you want it to be. “Do what you want.”

Her gaze softens for a split second, but then it’s gone, and she turns away, heading back to the counter. You’re left standing there, feeling the distance between you both grow. Your chest feels hollow like something inside you has cracked wide open, leaving behind an aching, empty space. The sting of her words lingers, each syllable embedding itself into your skin like tiny, invisible splinters. You shouldn’t be this hurt—you shouldn’t care this much. But you do. Because it’s Hana.

She’s been by your side for these couple of years, through every high and low, through every moment when you thought you’d collapse under the weight of everything. And now, she’s slipping through your fingers, walking a path you know will only lead to heartbreak. You can feel her pulling away, and the worst part? You don’t know how to stop it. Frustration curls in your stomach, hot and tight, twisting into something almost unbearable. You want to shake her, make her see that she’s making a mistake. But deep down, there’s something else gnawing at you, something ugly and uncomfortable—doubt.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you don’t understand her. Maybe, in trying so hard to protect her, you’ve been pushing her away instead. The realization is bitter, and it tastes like loss. Your fingers curl into your palms as you watch her retreat, her shoulders tense, her posture stiff with unspoken words. You could call after her, one last attempt to fix this. But your throat feels tight, and your voice is nowhere to be found. So instead, you just stand there, watching her go. Watching the distance between you grow wider, wondering if you’ll ever be able to close it again.

The rest of your shift had passed by with an awkward tenseness that even the other employees could notice. You clocked out without saying bye to Hana, heading home after calling off from your second job. You almost forgot you even invited Shoko over to help you pack until she rings your doorbell. Straightening yourself up, you push off the table and go to open the door. 

“Hey,” she greets, giving you a simple smile.

“Hey,” you reply back, stepping aside to let her in. A faint scent of cigarettes follows her inside as you close and lock the door. 

“So,” she begins, doing a small look around. “Where is he?”

You nod. “Koji! Come here, please!” A tiny pitter-patter of feet is heard, coming from his room and in front of you two. He looks up at Shoko, head tilting with curiosity. You crouch down to his height. “Koji, this my friend, Shoko.”

Koji blinks up at her, his big eyes studying her with an adorable mix of questioning and caution. He clutches the hem of his shirt, shifting on his feet as if trying to decide whether she’s someone worth trusting. Shoko, ever patient, crouches down a little and offers him a small, lazy wave. “Hey, kid,” she says, her tone light but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Koji doesn’t say anything right away, still watching her like he’s figuring something out. You can tell he’s analyzing her the way he does with new people—quiet, observant, waiting to see if she’s friend or foe. You smile, reaching out to smooth down his hair. “She’s really nice, baby,” you reassure him gently. “And she’s gonna help me pack today.”

His eyes flick between you and Shoko before he finally nods, accepting the introduction in his own quiet way. Then, after a moment, he shifts closer to you, pressing a small hand against your knee like he’s making sure you’re still there.

Shoko tilts her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “He’s a smart one,” she muses. “Doesn’t trust just anyone, huh?”

You chuckle softly. “Sometimes no. He takes a while to warm up to people.”

Koji stares at Shoko a little longer, then finally, with the tiniest voice, he asks, “Do you like dinosaurs?”

Shoko’s lips curve into a lazy grin. “Oh, I love dinosaurs,” she says without missing a beat. “Stegosaurus is my favorite.”

Koji’s eyes light up, his grip on your knee loosening as his excitement builds. “Me too!” he exclaims, his earlier hesitation already fading.

You let out a quiet breath, relieved to see him opening up. Shoko throws you a knowing glance before reaching into her pocket. “Wanna see something cool?” she asks, pulling out her phone. She taps on it a few times before turning the screen to him. “Look at this—real fossil pictures.”

Koji gasps, stepping closer, his tiny hands gripping the edge of her phone as he stares in fascination.

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve won him over.”

Shoko winks at you before looking back at Koji. “Guess that means I can stay, huh?”

Koji nods quickly, his earlier shyness completely gone. “Yeah! You can stay!” Your heart warms at the sight of them, a small, fleeting moment of peace settling over you. Even just for a little while, it feels like everything is okay.

Packing has never been your favorite thing to do. Having to look through year-old things, deciding if they’re worth staying in your life or not, buying boxes, the clutter that fills the place, everything about it is just exhausting. Shoko watches as you sigh, standing in the middle of your living room with your hands on your hips, surveying the mess of half-packed boxes, scattered clothes, and random trinkets from years past. "You look like you’re about to combust," she comments dryly, flopping onto your couch and lighting a cigarette.

You huff, rubbing your forehead. "I might. I hate this shit. It makes everything feel… real."

Shoko chuckles, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Because it is real," she says simply. "You’re leaving." 

Her words settle in your chest like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You know that. Of course, you do. You made this decision, you accepted the keys from Satoru, and you started packing. But now, as you hold a picture frame in your hands—one from a time when things were different, when you weren’t a single mother trying to keep everything together—it hits you all over again. You sit down on the floor with a tired sigh, staring at the photograph. It’s an old one, faded at the edges. Gojo's arm is draped around your shoulders, his usual grin on full display while you lean into him, laughing at something you can’t even remember anymore. It was before everything went to hell. Before Koji. Before the distance.

Shoko’s gaze flickers to the frame in your hands. "You keeping that?"

You swallow, fingers tightening around the frame. You should toss it. It’s just a relic of something that doesn’t exist anymore. But your hands won’t let go.

"...Yeah," you murmur, almost to yourself. "I think I am."

Shoko doesn’t say anything, just nods and leans back, letting you sit with your thoughts.

Packing has never been your favorite thing. But maybe, just maybe, there are some things worth holding onto. You place the picture frame into your box of memories, standing back up with a big exhale. 

“So, have you been looking for jobs near where you’ll be staying now?”

Her question briefly reminds you of the argument with Hana, but you have a good poker face. “Not yet, I mean, I was just thinking of doing the commute.”

“That’ll be far, won’t it?” She sits on the couch cushion.

You nod, tapping your finger along your elbow. “Yeah…or this one lady gave me her business card a while back. She said to call if I was interested, it might be closer to the new place, but I haven’t checked yet.”

“Oh, sick,” she nods, taking a sip from a glass of water you gave her earlier. “Why haven’t you called yet?”

“I—I don’t know. It seemed a little suspicious to me, just the way she came off. But maybe I’m just being superstitious.” 

Shoko raises an eyebrow, swirling the water in her glass. “Suspicious how?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, crossing your arms. “I don’t know… she was really persistent.’”

Shoko snorts. “Yeah, that’s how you end up in a pyramid scheme or an underground fight club.”

You roll your eyes but chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, I doubt it’s that extreme. But something about it didn’t sit right with me. Maybe I’ll give her a call, though..”

Shoko shrugs. “Can’t hurt. Just don’t sign anything unless you know exactly what you’re getting into.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “I mean, yeah. I hope so.”

She gives you a look—one of those knowing, slightly exasperated ones. “No. Not ‘I hope so.’ You will be.”

A lump forms in your throat at the certainty in her voice. Shoko wasn’t the type to say things just to make people feel better. If she said it, she meant it. You exhale, some of the weight in your chest loosening. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I will be.”

She grins, leaning back into the couch again. “That’s the spirit. Now hurry up and finish packing before I start judging your terrible organization skills.”

You roll your eyes as you two get back to work. “Oh, and you don’t have to stay until nine anymore. Satoru said he’d help me when he gets off work.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh? Satoru’s coming over to help you pack? How domestic.”

You groan, shoving a pile of clothes into a box with a little too much force. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, raising her hands in mock innocence. “I just think it’s funny. You two aren’t together, but he’s making house calls to help you pack. Almost like—oh, I don’t know—a boyfriend would.”

You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “He’s just helping, Shoko. It’s his way of making up for lost time. And, you know… Koji.”

Shoko hums, taking another sip of her water. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just be careful, alright? Satoru has a way of worming his way back into places.”

You look at her, your stomach twisting a little at the implication. “I know.”

She doesn’t press any further, just gives you a small nod before grabbing another box. “Alright then. Let’s finish this up before your not-boyfriend gets here.”

You and Shoko actually end up doing some pretty good damage, clearing out most of the living room and kitchen within a couple of hours. The place is filled with half-sealed boxes, stacks of clothes, and random knickknacks you forgot you even owned. Koji occasionally tries to help out before going back to playing in his room, door open. The air smells faintly of cardboard and dust, and every so often, you hear the rip of packing tape as one of you secures another box. Shoko moves with practiced ease, taping up a box labeled kitchenware while holding a cigarette between her lips, the ash barely hanging on. “You sure you need all these mugs?” she asks, giving you a pointed look.

You glance at the open box filled with an assortment of cups—some gifted, some bought on impulse, and a few holding sentimental value. You chew your lip. “...Maybe.”

Shoko snorts. “I’ll take that as a no.” Without waiting for your response, she plucks a random floral-patterned mug and sets it aside. “This one’s cute, though. I’m keeping it.”

You shake your head with a small laugh before focusing on your own task—sorting through a box of old papers, receipts, and letters you should’ve thrown out years ago. Some of them you skim through, lingering on certain notes or reminders scribbled in the margins, while others you crumple up without a second thought. At one point, Shoko finds an old sweater buried at the bottom of a pile and holds it up. “Didn’t you steal this from Satoru?”

Your hands pause over a stack of mail as you glance at the familiar fabric. It’s an oversized hoodie, worn at the cuffs, with a faint scent of something you refuse to acknowledge clinging to it. You exhale, shaking your head. “Borrowed. And forgot to give back.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Instead, she tosses it onto the “maybe” pile. “Right. Borrowed.”

By the time you finish packing up Koji’s toys that he hasn’t been playing with recently, the apartment looks emptier, more like a place in transition rather than a home. You stretch, your back aching slightly from crouching on the floor for so long. Shoko leans against the counter.. “So, when’s Satoru supposed to get here?”

You check the time on your phone, suppressing a sigh. “Soon, I think.”

She nods. “Good, I think I’m gonna head out now. I have a charcuterie board and some wine waiting for me at home.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Of course you do.”

Shoko smirks as she grabs her coat. “What can I say? I have taste.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, stretching slightly before making her way to the door.

“Thanks for helping,” you say sincerely, following her.

She shrugs. “No problem. Besides, watching you stress-pack was mildly entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, but the fondness in your expression betrays you. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your wine and fancy snacks.”

“Always do,” she says with a lazy grin, stepping out into the hallway. “Oh, and tell Satoru I said hi.”

You hum noncommittally, leaning against the doorframe as she walks off. The second she’s out of sight, you sigh, rubbing your temples. The apartment is eerily quiet now, save for the occasional sound of Koji shifting in his room and the faint rustling of cardboard boxes.

And now, all that’s left to do is wait.

And waiting was what you did.

You should’ve assumed that when Satoru didn’t give you an exact time of when he’d be off of work, it would be late. You’ve already showered and changed into one of your comfortable nightgowns you have since a good majority of your other pajamas have been packed. Koji has been washed up also, getting him ready for bed. You read his favorite lullaby and kiss his cheek as he drifts off to sleep, silently peeling out the room and closing the door behind you. You won’t be moving out until hopefully a month from now, since your lease is month to month. But you’ve always enjoyed getting a head start on things, especially something as big as this. 

The apartment feels different now, half-packed boxes stacked in corners, the once-cozy clutter of everyday life slowly disappearing. You stand in the dimly lit living room, rubbing your arms as the silence settles over you. Moving still doesn’t feel real. You glance at the clock. Satoru still isn’t here. With a sigh, you walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. The faint hum of the refrigerator is the only sound accompanying you as you lean against the counter, tapping your fingers against the cool surface. Your mind drifts—back to your conversation with Hana, to Koji’s peaceful face as he slept. The weight of everything presses on your chest, but before you can dwell too much, a soft knock at the door pulls you back.

You already know who it is.

Setting the glass down, you push off the counter and make your way to the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. And when you open it, there he is—Satoru, standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking a little tired but still offering you a lopsided grin. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves lazily rolled up, with black slacks and shoes. 

“Hey,” he says, voice lower than usual. Tired. 

“Hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. “you’re a little late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Some stuff in the office, got held up.” 

You nod, not exactly surprised. You’ve grown used to his unpredictable hours, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “It’s fine. Just… been waiting around for you,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck as you lead him inside.

He gives you a look, something soft behind his usual nonchalant expression. "I know. I’m sorry about that."

"It's okay." You give him a faint smile, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Koji's already asleep. I made sure to finish his bedtime routine before I started getting things ready here."

Satoru hums in acknowledgment, putting his jacket off and hanging it over a chair. His gaze drifts to the boxes scattered around the room, some already taped up and others half-opened. It’s a stark reminder of the transition you’re about to make, and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing, his face momentarily tight before he shakes it off. “I see you're making progress,” he says, stepping over to the couch and sitting down.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him with a small sigh. "Yeah, just... still a lot to do. Not sure where I’ll even begin with everything. Packing up a life feels… strange."

He looks up at you, his expression serious. “I get it.” His voice drops a bit, almost too soft, as if he’s carefully measuring his next words. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m helping, remember?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forget about the tension between the two of you, the things unsaid and still hanging in the air. “I know,” you whisper back. "Thank you."

“Don’t thank me too much,” he waves you off. “Where should we start?”

You glance around the room, the dim light casting soft shadows on the packed boxes. It feels like the room itself is holding its breath, just like you, waiting for something to break. "Well," you start, standing up and walking over to one of the piles of clothes, "I guess we could start with the things I don’t need immediately. Like these clothes." You pull out a few items, folding them quickly and placing them in the box. "That should make a dent in it."

Satoru watches you for a moment, then stands and stretches, clearly ready to dive in. "Alright, clothes it is. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right," he says, a glimmer of teasing in his tone. "I’ll help you with everything. You won’t even have to lift a finger."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You’re acting like I can’t handle it myself."

"I know you can," he replies, his voice softening. "But if I’m here, let me do my part."

You hesitate for just a second, looking up at him. His offer feels real, no strings attached, and part of you wants to take him up on it. But the other part— the one that’s always been fiercely independent— resists. "Alright," you say finally, looking away to hide the conflicted thoughts running through your mind. "Start with the clothes, then we’ll see where we’re at."

He grins. "You got it."

And so, the two of you begin. It’s quiet at first, just the soft rustle of clothes and the occasional murmur from either of you. But with Satoru’s easy presence next to you, there’s a strange comfort in it. The tension between you both hasn’t disappeared, but it feels more manageable now. Like it’s being pushed aside, at least for tonight.

It’s a pretty peaceful endeavor. Of course, your eyes keep flickering over to the way his forearms clench tight, showing off his pretty web of veins as he lifts one box to stack on top of another. And of course, he can’t help but steal quick glances at your legs peeking out from your dress, or that cute little noise you make when you lift something. The silence between you two feels almost comfortable, but there's an undercurrent of tension that’s hard to ignore. You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back.

However, the air in the room feels heavier, charged with unspoken thoughts, though neither of you acknowledges it. Your movements become a little more deliberate, and more calculated, as if both of you are trying to stay focused on the task at hand. But it’s hard to ignore the quiet heat building between the two of you, a tension neither of you seems willing to break.

Every time you glance at him, there’s something different in the way he holds himself—more aware, like he's suddenly hyper-conscious of your proximity. It’s not the usual Satoru, the one with all the jokes and playful teasing. This Satoru is more subdued, like he’s fighting the urge to close the distance. You try to ignore it, pushing the box into its designated spot, but his gaze keeps catching yours. And when you don’t look away fast enough, the corners of his mouth curl, almost imperceptibly. That look, that silent acknowledgment of the way you’re both aware of the other... it makes your heart beat a little faster, a little harder.

You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back. And you can't seem to stop noticing the way his muscles move under his shirt, the flex of his arms, the casual grace in the way he lifts the boxes. He’s not even trying to look impressive, but it’s hard not to find something magnetic about the way he carries himself—like everything he does is effortless, even in the midst of something as mundane as packing up boxes.

You try to focus on your task, but the way your mind keeps wandering back to him—his presence so close, his every movement in your peripheral vision—makes it hard to concentrate. It’s like the room has shrunk, and all the air between you is charged with something unspoken.

"You're staring," Satoru says, his voice light, a playful hint in his tone. He lifts another box, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Trying to get an up-close look at all this muscle, huh?"

Your cheeks warm, and you quickly glance away, pretending to straighten out a stack of books. "I wasn’t staring," you mutter, but there's no real conviction in your voice.

Satoru just smirks, clearly amused, but doesn’t push. Instead, he adds another box to the growing pile and turns his attention back to the task at hand. There's an ease in the way he works, but it’s also clear that he’s making a deliberate effort to keep the mood light. Maybe to balance out the underlying weight of everything else. The two of you fall into a quiet rhythm, the soft rustling of cardboard and the occasional clink of items being packed the only sounds filling the space. You don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this—having him here, helping, being part of something so domestic. He moves through your space like he belongs, like he’s done this a million times before, and maybe that’s what unsettles you the most. Because there was a time when he did.

You kneel down to wrap some plates in newspaper, but Satoru beats you to it, his long fingers brushing against yours as he takes over the task. It’s brief, fleeting, but the contact sends a jolt through your skin, making you stiffen for just a second. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything—he just works, his movements efficient but unhurried.

More of Koji’s many toys are the next thing to go into a box, and you pause for a moment, running your fingers over the worn edges of a tiny action figure. It’s one of Koji’s favorites—one Satoru had bought him one time on a whim. You remember the way he handed it to your son with an easy grin, the way Koji’s face had lit up like it was the best gift in the world. Your chest tightens as you place it carefully in the box. “You okay?” Satoru asks, his voice softer now. You glance up to find him watching you, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something quieter, something real.

You nod, swallowing. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know. Packing makes things feel more real, I guess.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I get that.”

For a moment, it feels like he wants to say more, but the words never come. Instead, he shifts his attention back to the stack of boxes, lifting one effortlessly and carrying it to the corner of the room. And then, something catches his eye. It’s stacked on top of the coffee table and he’s not sure how he didn’t recognize it earlier, but it’s distinct. The handwriting, the doodles, everything. 

“You still have that?” He juts his chin towards its direction.

You stop and look over, following his gaze to the precious box of memories your younger selves made. Your hands still over the box you were taping up, your eyes tracing the old box stacked neatly on the coffee table. It’s a little worn now, the edges fraying, the ink of your younger selves’ handwriting faded but still legible. The weight of nostalgia settles in your chest like a stone.

Of course, you still have it.

You glance at Satoru, catching the flicker of recognition in his expression. His usual carefree smirk is nowhere to be found—just something softer, more thoughtful, as he takes a step closer. “I didn’t think you’d keep it,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the lid.

You hesitate, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Satoru exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Thought maybe… after everything, you would’ve tossed it.”

You know what he means. That box holds pieces of the past—old photos, handwritten notes, ticket stubs from nights you thought would last forever. Memories you both tried to move on from but never really could. You shrug, running a hand over the lid. “Some things are worth holding onto.”

His eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable in them. His fingers hover over the edge of the box, like he’s debating whether to open it. “Do you mind?”

You shake your head, and with careful hands, he lifts the lid and takes a seat at the couch. The moment he does, the past spills out between you—photographs with scribbled dates, pressed flowers long since dried, a crumpled receipt from that diner you both used to sneak off to.

A photo rests on top, slightly curled at the edges. It’s of you and Satoru, years ago, faces close together as you both made exaggerated, ridiculous expressions for the camera. His arm was draped around you, his signature grin in place. He looks through another few, one of you both wearing Ring Pops, a picture of you guys sitting underneath a tree, ones of you two kissing, and sweet, but cheesy cards with his writing on it.

You wonder if he remembers the moment any of them were taken. If he remembers how he stole your fries right after, laughing when you swatted at him. If he remembers how easy things used to be. He exhales slowly, running a thumb over the corner of the photo. “We were such kids,” he muses.

You smile faintly. “We were.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The weight of everything unspoken lingers in the air between you. The past, the present, the things you both wish you could take back—it’s all there, packed into a small shoebox of memories you never really let go of. And maybe, just maybe, neither did he.

Satoru flips through the photographs slowly, his fingers lingering on each one like they might disintegrate under his touch. His lips quirk up at a few—like the one of you wearing his sunglasses, pouting at the camera while he made a stupid face behind you. Or the blurry snapshot of a festival, fireworks exploding in the night sky above your laughing forms.  

But there’s one that makes his expression falter, something unreadable flickering in those bright blue eyes. It’s an old candid, one you don’t even remember being taken. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of what used to be his apartment, surrounded by scattered papers and empty takeout boxes. You’re mid-laugh, head thrown back, completely unguarded. And Satoru—he’s looking at you.  

Not at the camera. At you.  

His gaze in the photo is something raw, something unfiltered. And looking at it now, years later, it almost makes your breath catch. Satoru exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot about this one.”  

You shift beside him, peering over his shoulder. “Me too.”  

Liar.  

You remember exactly when it was taken. You remember the warmth of that night, the way the two of you had spent hours talking about everything and nothing. You remember how he had looked at you then—like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.  

And the worst part?  

You think, maybe, he’s looking at you the same way right now.  

You swallow, forcing a chuckle as you reach for another old memory. “Oh god, do you remember this?” You hold up a wrinkled concert ticket, the faded ink barely legible. “We got lost on the way home and ended up at that weird little gas station in the middle of nowhere.”  

His laugh is warm, genuine. “Yeah, and you made me go inside alone because you swore it looked haunted.”  

“It did look haunted.”  

“It was just old, Y/N.”  

You grin, nudging his arm. He nudges back, something familiar settling in between you both. Something easy. He looks down at another photo, one of you two curled up on what used to be his childhood bed, he’s taking the picture. You’re asleep on his shoulder, a small wet spot from what can only be your drool, as he sports a dorky grin. 

Your heart flutters at the way his eyes linger on your face, smiling in a way that makes you sit beside him, knees brushing together. “You always fell asleep so quick.” 

You chortle quietly. “Well, yeah. Your bed was comfier than mine.”

“It was. Comfier than my hotel from last night too,” he fakes a wince. 

You blink, head tilting. “You got a hotel? I thought you said you were going home.”

His lips purse, looking at you. “Yeah, well…I changed my mind.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

He hesitates, like he’s not sure he should tell you the truth, but ultimately decides to. “Well…I don’t know. I realized I didn’t really want to go home yet, but I didn’t want to be too far from you guys either, and I felt weird asking to stay.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His words settle into your chest, warm and heavy, lingering in places you’ve tried to ignore for so long. “You didn’t want to be too far…” you echo softly, letting the sentence trail off, like saying it out loud might make it feel realer.  

Satoru shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he does it—something unsure. “Yeah, I guess.” He looks down at the photo again, his thumb brushing absently over the image of your sleeping face. “I mean, it’s stupid, right?”  

You don’t know what to say to that. Because no, it’s not stupid. Not to you. You wet your lips. “You could’ve just…stayed here, you know.”  

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Could I have?” His voice is quiet, careful.  

You hold his gaze. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between the two of you, the kind that doesn’t need words. The kind that comes with knowing someone for so long that silence says just as much as anything else.  

Finally, you look away, your fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown. “Yeah,” you murmur. “You could have.”  

The air between you shifts—something delicate, something dangerously close to feeling like before.  

Satoru exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake something off. “Well,” he says, forcing a smirk, “maybe next time I’ll take you up on that.”  

You give a small laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you don’t know if you mean it. If you could really handle him here, in your space, in your life, so close yet still so far.  But when he leans back against the couch, his arm brushing against yours, when he picks up another photo and grins at some long-forgotten memory—you think, maybe, you wouldn’t mind. 

He continues to indulge in the sacred beauties of what your past has to offer. It’s another quiet affair, words feeling too loud for such a fragile moment like this one. You smile when he does, laugh when he does at another cringey picture. And soon, his eyes begin to glaze over with emotion. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight, a small gasp almost falling from your lips at the rawness he’s so willingly showing right now. Instead, you say nothing, biting hard on your lip and forcing your eyes on your hands in your lap. 

“Y/N…” he murmurs.

When you look back up, he looks like he’s barely holding it in.

“I…I just…I….I’m not happy. With everything, myself, with—with what I’ve done and said before. It’s been haunting me so much nowadays and no matter what, I can’t help myself. I feel guilty, disgusted, and…and I regret it. A lot. I’ve been confusing you, but myself too. I feel like I disappoint every single time, no matter what….I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even know how to respond to that for a few seconds. You gulp, finally finding your voice. “Satoru….” You whisper, trying to find the right words. “I—I should be the one telling you that.”

“You have before.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make up for my mistakes, either.”

“It doesn’t. But I’ve been hearing you apologize so much recently, it’s time you hear mine.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the room, thick with the kind of sincerity that makes your chest tighten. You try to process it, try to let the impact of his confession settle into something that makes sense. But the words seem to fall short—guilt, regret, disgust. The rawness in his voice cuts deeper than you expect, unraveling something you didn’t know was tied up inside you.

His eyes are full of turmoil, and you can see how much it costs him to open up like this. His usual confidence, the front he wears so easily, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a vulnerability so unguarded that it almost frightens you. And in this quiet, fragile moment, it feels like time slows down. 

“I’ve heard your apologies, Satoru,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “But you don’t have to keep apologizing. Not for this.”

His expression falters for a second, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "But—"

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips, though it doesn’t feel like enough to wipe away the heaviness in the room. “I’m not perfect either, Satoru,” you continue, your voice gaining strength with each word. “We both made mistakes. And I’ve hurt you too. But we’ve hurt each other.” He looks like he wants to argue, but you press on, finding courage in his honesty. “I’ve been holding onto the past just as much as you have. I can’t change it, but I need to stop pretending it doesn’t still affect me. It’s been haunting me too. But I can’t keep holding onto it. Not if I want to move forward. We’re older now, wiser, more mature. There’s Koji, and…and I don’t want things to feel…horrible between us. I want us to find peace together.”

Satoru swallows hard, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. His hand reaches for his forehead, rubbing it like he’s trying to push the weight of everything out of his mind. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N. I’m trying. But it feels like I keep screwing up.”

“I know,” you say quietly. "We both do." The words are out there, and now all that’s left is to let them breathe. Neither of you can change the past, but maybe...you can learn to let it go. 

He nods slowly, as if trying to absorb it all, and after a moment of silence, he looks back at you. His eyes are tired, but there's something softer in them now, something hopeful. He wipes his eyes. "I don't know where we go from here, but I don’t want to keep running from it."

Your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t know what the future holds either, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel the weight of the past starting to lift, even if just a little. "Me neither," you whisper, your voice shaky with emotion. "But maybe we can figure it out."

“Together.”

“Together.”

His lips curve up into a genuine smile full of nothing but warmth, adoration. The smile he gives you is like the first rays of sunlight after a storm, bright and full of life. It’s soft, unguarded—something you haven’t seen in a long time. It reaches his eyes, a spark of something familiar and comforting that makes your chest tighten in a way you haven’t felt in ages. The weight that’s been hanging between you both, the heavy unspoken truths, start to feel a little lighter.

You find yourself leaning into the moment, your breath steadying as his gaze softens, his hand subtly inching closer to yours. He doesn’t push it, but the offer is there, unspoken, a silent invitation to bridge the distance that’s always seemed too wide. You could almost hear the quiet rhythm of your heart in the silence between you, pulsing steady and sure.

“I know there’s some things that don’t call for forgiveness, I understand that. It goes both ways. But I want you to know that I want to be better for Koji, and for you. I want to be here for you, even if it’s just to co-parent.” He says. 

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost overwhelming. It’s like he’s finally seeing the bigger picture, the shared weight of the past, and the future that still holds a flicker of possibility. His willingness to be better for both Koji and you feels like a balm on a wound that’s been open for far too long. You look down at your hands, fingers trembling slightly as the gravity of the moment presses on your chest. You had always known that, beneath all the tension and mistakes, there was something worth salvaging, but hearing him admit it brings a kind of clarity you didn’t know you needed. 

“Maybe,” you start, your voice faltering for a second, “maybe we don’t need to fix everything all at once. But I think we can make it work. For him, and for us... no matter what it looks like.” 

You glance up, meeting his gaze. There’s an unspoken understanding between you two, the kind that doesn’t need words. He’s no longer just apologizing—he’s actively offering a future where you’re both better versions of yourselves, learning, growing, and being there for Koji. The idea of co-parenting with him, of sharing that responsibility and maybe even more, feels like the first step toward something that might just heal all the old wounds. You don’t know what the future holds, but for once, it doesn’t feel as daunting as it did before.

The air between you thickens with every breath, heavy and charged. The weight of what he said lingers in your chest and you begin to forget about everything else. It’s just you and him, the past and the future all blending together in this shared space. You can feel his presence more than you ever have before—closer than ever, his warmth radiating off of him, his gaze never leaving yours.

Satoru shifts slightly, his knee brushing against yours, sending a spark up your spine. It’s not just the physical closeness; it’s the way the emotional tension seems to stretch and wind itself tighter, knotting in your gut. His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a split second, but it’s enough to make your heart race, to make your breath hitch in your throat. You inhale shakily, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, unsure of whether it’s the right moment. His hand, almost instinctively, moves toward yours, brushing the back of your fingers lightly. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a wave of heat flooding through your body.

"Y/N..." He says your name in a low, almost desperate whisper. It's a quiet plea, and it’s as if he’s asking for permission—permission to cross that line, to go past the familiar territory you’ve shared for so long.

You’re frozen in place, caught between the pull of your past and the undeniable attraction of the present. Your pulse quickens, and for a moment, all the doubts, the reservations, the walls you’ve built, seem so far away. “Is this...” You start, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by the sudden proximity of his face to yours. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t need to answer. His eyes tell you everything you need to know—the vulnerability, the desire, the hope, all wrapped up in the way his lips hover just inches from yours.  Your hand slowly finds its way to the side of his neck, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of his pulse, a silent invitation.

Time seems to stand still for what feels like an eternity. Both of you internally weighing out the pros and cons of this situation, but all you can come up with are the pros. You’re not sure who moves first—whether it’s him leaning in, or you, but in the next moment, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. 

But you don’t. You don’t pull away.

The kiss deepens, slow but insistent, the taste of him, the feel of his mouth, everything feels so raw and real, like you’ve both been starved for this connection. Every lingering touch, every brush of skin, sends a flood of emotions coursing through you. His head tilts, cupping his hands against your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss—it’s everything that’s been left unsaid, the apology, the longing, the shared history—it’s all colliding in this single moment.

And even though it’s a long time coming, you know it’s about what comes after, the mess and the beauty of what you’ve both been through. But for now, all you can focus on is him—the way he feels against you, the way everything else seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you.

His head pushes closer, kissing you with a tender firmness that has you encircling your arms around his neck to bring him closer. Happily, he scoots closer to you, one hand drifting down to your waist. His tongue swipes gently across your bottom lip and you part your lips. The wet muscles invades your mouth in a way that feels so reminiscent. Your tongue tangle together in a sensual, slow dance. 

Subconsciously, you’re leaning more and more back until your back hits the couch cushion. He’s hovering above you now, the hand that was on your cheek planting itself beside your head to keep his stability. You nibble gently at his lower lip, the low moan he lets out makes you feel so embarrassingly warm.

After a few minutes, he pulls back for air, practically panting. Your lips are red, kiss-swollen. Looking up at him with wide eyes like you can’t believe what just happened. He’s almost beginning to question whether he misread the situation but he glances down, noticing the way your legs part for his body to slot between. 

The moment hangs between you two, thick with unspoken understanding, as if neither of you wants to break it but both of you are struggling to catch your breath. Your chest rises and falls in time with his, and your mind races, unsure if you should stop or let this continue. But the way his body is so close to yours, the heat radiating between you, the warmth of his hand on your waist, makes it hard to think clearly. 

His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he sees is the way your chest heaves, the flush of your skin, and how your body silently shifts beneath him as if you're inviting him closer without needing to say a word. Satoru’s hand remains by your head, bracing himself, but his other hand trails a path along your side, grazing the curves of your body, feeling the pulse of warmth beneath your skin. He leans down again, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing a kiss down to your neck, a soft sigh leaving your lips. His touch is gentle but possessive, as if he’s reclaiming something that’s always been his, as if this was meant to happen all along.

You tilt your head back, giving him more access, your fingers threading through his pale hair, pulling him closer. You can feel the way his heart races against your chest, matching the intensity of your own. His lips find yours once more, and this time, the kiss is more urgent, more demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that was lost between you two. It’s overwhelming, the way your body responds to him. You’re caught between wanting more and wanting to hold onto this fragile moment, the one where everything feels right, despite the potential mess that surrounds it. Every touch, every kiss, sends a jolt of electricity through you, reminding you of the connection that has always been there, buried deep beneath the surface.

But you pull back for a brief second, your breath shaky, trying to regain control of your racing heart. “Satoru...” Your voice is barely above a mutter, and his name on your lips feels like a whispered confession.

His eyes darken, and he leans in again, his forehead pressing against yours. “I’m not going to rush you, Y/N. I just need you to know…” His words trail off, but the intensity in his gaze is enough to fill the silence. 

You’re both teetering on the edge of something that could change everything. But in this moment, it’s not just about the kiss, or the heat between you two—it’s about the vulnerability, the trust that you’ve both allowed to fill the spaces that have been vacant for so long. And as his lips brush yours again, you can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of something new—or the rekindling of something that was always meant to be. “I know,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good,” he gives you one last lingering kiss, before titling his head down your jaw, kiss after kiss pants your smooth skin until it reaches your neck. Soft nibbles and sucks make your body feel like it’s on fire. A small moan leaves you, and you feel the way his lips smile against your neck. He reaches a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching into his body. He hums in acknowledgment, like he’s silently applauding himself for getting it right after all this time still. 

The sensation of his lips on your skin sends a rush of heat through your body, every kiss and nibble sparking a fire deep within you. The tender yet possessive way he touches you makes your head spin, and you can’t help but sink further into the feeling of him, his hands pulling you closer, his breath warm against your neck. His lips never stop moving, finding every spot that makes you shiver, every place that makes your body hum with need.

You grip his shoulders tighter, urging him closer, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to something real amidst the storm of emotions flooding you both. His touch is a contradiction—gentle yet firm, warm yet filled with an intensity that makes it impossible to pull away. “Do you remember how we used to…” He doesn’t finish the thought, his voice a low whisper against your skin, but the way he pulls back to look into your eyes tells you everything you need to know. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, a quiet desperation there that matches the frantic rhythm of your heart. 

You swallow thickly, barely able to form words. “I do…” you breathe out, your voice shaky as you push yourself closer to him, your lips nearly brushing his as you speak. 

His hand slides lower, resting at your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt. The heat between you two builds with every passing second. You wonder how you’ve gotten here, so tangled in each other’s arms, so lost in the intensity of everything that’s been left unsaid between you. His lips find yours again, more urgent now, as if he can’t wait any longer, as if this is everything he’s been craving. Your body responds instinctively, your hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, and in that moment, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just a shared understanding that this is something more than just a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment. With each kiss, with each touch, the tension between you both only grows stronger, and you can’t help but ponder the idea of how much longer you’ll be able to hold back.

“Missed this….missed this….god…” he groans into your mouth. 

And you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that your son is sleeping peacefully in his room, the walls aren’t very thick ,and this—this should not be happening right now. It’s not right; you two aren’t even together, he has a fucking girlfriend, for crying out loud. 

What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?

Your body feels jittery with nerves and anticipation, the reality of the compromising situation settling in. Are you technically homewrecking right now? Or are you innocent because technically…he knows where his real home is. His lips against you feel nostalgic, but even better than what you remember. Heart pounding in your chest, breathing short—panting and he’s barely done anything.

You’re brought down back to Earth when a sneaky, warm palm squeeze softly at the inside of your thigh. You gasp unintentionally, hand shooting out to grip his wrist weakly. Half-lidded gaze meeting yours, his face is the epitome of a man on the brink of losing it.

The grip of your hand around his wrist caused a shiver to run down his spine. He liked the way you could feel how quick his pulse was, how excited he was to put his hands on you. He shifted you further back, lifting the back of your head up to lay it onto the pillow. His head bowed, his mouth hovering over your pulse point, but pausing just before he could touch you. “Let me just have a taste,” he murmured. “I won’t go any further. I just…I need this. Please.”

“Y-you always say that…” you manage to breathe out. 

“And usually I stick to that.”

Usually. 

His lips connect with your neck once more. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your skin, and his grip on your thigh and wrist tightened slightly. His tongue flicks over your pulse, and he places a second kiss, and a third. He moves down your neck, pressing kisses and soft, sharp nips to your skin. He wanted to mark you. “Just a taste.”

You find yourself barely contemplating—the rate at which you’re actually answering his shocking request baffles you. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the consequences of your choices right now—just trying to feel. A shaky nod. 

Honestly, fuck his girlfriend. 

His speed is fast, movements quick and hurried like he can’t wait, like he’s just been given permission to take a bite of his favorite sweet that he hasn’t had in so, so long. You gasp when he’s moving down your body, lifting your legs up by the back of your thighs and over his shoulders—his head finding placement between your thighs. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered, his voice breathy and eager. The moment you nodded he was all over you.

He’s keeping your legs hoisted up, pushing your dress up and out of the way. He positions himself to lay on his stomach between your legs, his hands running up and down your thighs. The position is almost comical to you, his large frame barely fitting onto the small couch you own. But it’s his determination—his desperation that’s keeping you going. 

He was already breathing heavily, desperate. And he was still begging. “Just a taste.” he repeated. “Just a small one.”

He noses at your thigh, inhaling your perfect scent. Your hand finds rightful placement between his strands, looking down at the way he bunches your nightgown at your hips, revealing a pair of….plain granny panties. 

Immediately, you cringe. Legs moving to close shut, but his hold on them keeps them wide open for him to sniff at your heat like a dog. “So good….so pretty…”

Your cheeks feel hotter than your entire body, flooding with embarrassment as he continues to smell. His warm breath hitting you through the material and you flinch. “S…Satoru….I’m sorry…”

“For what?” His voice is muffled, but his eyes still flicker up to meet yours. 

“F-For not being better prepared. I’m sorry,” you gulp. 

He scoffs, kissing your inner thigh. “What are you talking about? You think I care about that? You know me, Y/N. You could have the biggest bush known to man with decade old underwear and I’d still want some of you.”

You grimace. “Satoru!”

He chuckles softly, kissing the crease of your thigh. His fingers softly rub your plush skin, easing your tense body. You let out a big puff of air, eyes raising up to the ceiling when he moves back to your underwear. Giving you a tiny kiss above the fabric, you bite your lip. Your fingers slowly begin to rub at his scalp, he momentarily stops as he basks in your touch. Humming in approval. 

“….please don’t stop,” he whispers, followed by his fingers latching onto the hem of your underwear. 

You let out a shaky sigh, hips lifting slightly to help him. He pulls down the fabric in a methodical way, giving you enough time to register what’s happening and possibly pull away if you feel like it. Again, you don’t pull away. The granny panties move down your legs until he’s tossing it to the side on the floor. And once his eyes zero in on your glistening cunt waiting for him, his pupils dilate ever wider (if possible). “Wow,” he sighs in fascination. 

His stare always makes you feel bare, but especially now. You can’t help feeling self-conscious about the way you look down there. Not that there’s anything wrong, but you know he’s been intimate with another woman. Your mind swirls with implications that he’s secretly hiding his disgust behind a dopey smile and mesmerized, gleaming eyes. Your hips twitch. “I—sorry.”

“For what?” He asks again.

“If I look different.”

“You look as beautiful as you always do, maybe even more,” he replies easily, the sight of your pussy capturing his full attention as he leans closer. “Can I show you, please? I love it so fucking much.” 

God, his mouth. His bright blues make eye contact with you once more, waiting for an answer. Finally, you nod. “…yes, Satoru.”

And that’s all the confirmation he needs. You gasp out as he dives in, sucking first at your puffy clit that peeks at him. Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his hair, hips jerking up, but he pushes them back down. He moans when your sweet taste melts on his tongue like ice cream, tongue prodding and swirling in circular motions. Your head tilts further back, mouth agape, trying to keep up with his speed. 

But you never could. 

“S-sa—” you’re cut off when he spits roughly, subsequently whimpering in a shivering manner when his tongue enters your squeezing hole. “F-fuck…oh….fuck, Satoru.”

“So good,” his tone sounds like a whine, fingers tightening around your thighs while he forces you closer to his mouth, almost like he’s trying to suffocate himself in you. His mouth works your pussy in a way that makes you see stars, pleading for more. 

His teeth nibble very softly at your clit, followed by a wet kiss, and then a slobbery suck. He’s always worked messy, your wetness drowning his face in it, running down until it pools onto the cushion beneath you. He shoves his face deeper, the tip of his perky nose poking your nub while his mouth focuses on your hole. He tilts his head, almost like he’s french kissing your pussy, moaning and mumbling nonsense. You make out small things like ‘so good’, ‘yes, please, yes’, and ‘how fucking good you taste’. 

You bite down on your free hand to keep your noises within hold, but of course, that proves meaningless against Satoru’s ruthless mouth. “A-ah…S-Satoru…I—”

His tongue moves back into your quivering hole, feeling the way you squeeze and he can only wonder how good that would feel against his hard cock that he’s rutting shamelessly into the cushion. Your thighs close around his head, eyes rolling back when a familiar warmth coils at your lower gut, hips jerking and toes curling up. 

He senses it, doesn’t need to ask. 

He continues his ministrations, making noises that sound so fucking obnoxiously hot that you feel a countdown until your warm cum oozes out in such a captivating way. He’s lapping it all up, not letting a single drop go to waste. Your chest heaves, panting like you’ve just run a fucking mile. Even after you’ve cum on his tongue, he’s still eating you like he’s starving. 

You whine and whimper, pulling at his strands. “Satoru…c-can’t….ngh….”

“Just…a little…more…” he pants. 

And you honestly have no objections. Even if you feel overstimulated, even if you wish he’d give your pussy a damn break from his vicious mouth. It’s all worth it in the end when he pulls back, his mouth and chin coated in your juices. 

And he still looks like he hasn’t had enough. 

It’s a sight that feels straight out of a romance novel. A man so desperately yearning for a simple eating that he looks almost crazed. But to him, it’s not simple. It’s everything. Every part of you is everything to Satoru. Your reactions are a bonus, your hazy eyes, parted mouth, strands of hair sticking to your forehead…it’s all worth it. 

His eyes tear up again, a broken laugh falling from his lips. “Beautiful. Always have been, always will be.”

You can’t speak, offering a noncommittal huff. 

He leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. You stick your tongue out, faintly tasting yourself. He gives another to the tip of your nose, for forehead, then finally your lips before he’s nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. 

Your chests meet each other in timed rises, arms feeling limp as you wrap them around his neck. No words are spoken, just allowing yourselves to be present in the moment—in each other’s touch. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your neck. 

Your throat is dry as you respond. “…m…mhm…”

He laughs again, softer this time. Feeling his arms loop around your waist and tugging your body closer to his like he’s trying to fuse you two. He inhales deeply. “…can I stay?”

You breath out, fanning his ear. “Yes, please.”

His smile is ever-present, letting his eyes flutter closed. Your arms tighten around him, bringing him as close as physically possible. He lets you do so. 

The silence between you two feels comfortable, almost like the world outside this moment has fallen away. You can hear the steady rhythm of his breath, and the way his body feels against yours makes you realize just how much you've missed him—his presence, his warmth. His hand runs gently up and down your back, a soothing, almost instinctual motion, and you feel your heartbeat steady with it. The vulnerability, the tenderness in his touch, it's as if he's trying to make up for the lost time, showing in every quiet movement how much he's there, how much he cares.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, and there's an undercurrent of something raw in it.

You nod against his shoulder, not trusting your voice for a moment. The weight of everything—the past, the future, the unsaid words—feels less heavy in this space, this fragile moment where nothing is expected of you. You just are, and for the first time in what feels like forever, that’s enough.

“I am now," you whisper, holding onto him just a little tighter, as if you’re afraid that if you let go, this peace might slip away. He hums in agreement, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin. 

As you drift off to sleep, you don’t question the dampness of the tears you feel hit your neck or the way his breath hitches. 

a/n: hi guyssss! thank you for ur patience. I'm a little self-conscious about my transitions between scenes in this chap and i wish i could’ve dragged out the mom scene more but the wc was looking 🫣🫣🫣 anywho I really hope u enjoyed :)

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[smiling-stel]

Ok so, im remembering someone else's point saying how Cale acts like a guardian to those younger than him but acts bratty n spoiled to those older (within respects still)

♡ Like how he cares a ton for the children n will never push them or scold them for not being able to do something

Ex. when Raon couldnt break thru the whirlwind, Cale didn't blame Raon even tho he was at a lost for what to do then proceeded to find another way

♡ But then IS pretty "hey ima do my own thing, be grateful im even Telling You" with some of the older folks/people he sees as his age (towards quite literally everyone i can think of actually- even sometimes towards the children - tho ig it could be "you don't need to know, you don't need to worry" mentality, perhaps a mix

Ex. Cale toward Alberu when he's like, "ill get u the Mage Tower, gimme money, trust" etc.

So im thinking

♡ Cale showing these subtle reactions to being pampered, but then he start basically Demanding It in an almost a "tell me to go away, I dare you" while still flinching, freezing, or stiffening up when ofc he receives/is let to do what he wants before quickly melting into it, perhaps almost tsundare/cat-like (ong I hate labeling it as such, but thats basically what I'm imagining orz)

[Tldr at the bottom of the break]

- I continue on w examples i half pull out my bum + rewrite my pt better

♤ And we do see this w Cale's brattiness towards Alberu in canon

We see him start w taking cookies for Raon or to eat it himself, but then he just starts- breaking into? Alberu's bedroom or office??

♤ Like sIR TToTT LMAOO. But I think he can "justify the rudeness" cause he's quite literally only bothering Alberu when it benefits him or the kingdom

-

♧. But then we see it also with the mindful disrespect Cale gives Ron, the guy he was lowkey terrified of even before knowing he was an assassin, and yet continued to treat with the same "you are legally working under me" curt manner of speech regardless

. Which is a bit insane of Cale tbh cause also Ron was older than him -- ik Korea emphasizes a base-line respect hierarchy via age, and Cale was conscious of that towards Choi Han, but tbh I cant remmeber any internal dialouge of Cale's take on Ron being older than him cause -- he's alw treated Ron with "do this cause my family pays you" speech mannerism

♧ So the "were giving you money to work in a position lower than mine" overrides:

- his Fear of Ron,

- the built in "treat elders w manners" most cultures have,

- but also most people's learned basic politeness filter, [cause others being in a position lower than yours doesnt mean you have to speak to them curtly]--- (and we know Cale does indeed know basic politeness cause he can easily bullsht his way into stardom (ex. Jungle arc/when he first meets Alberu/whevever he handles civilians))

::without the usual politeness you'd have asking someone else do something, even if it Was their job (ex. Most people still ask "do you know where the sauce is?" or "wheres this sauce?" to a grocery employee instead of straight up "take me to the sauce./get me this sauce." If that makes sense;

that instinctual polite unliteral manner of phrasing cause "do you know where the sauce is? Ofc they do, they work here >> oh but that demand of "take me to the sauce" is phrased as an almost hypothetical manner to save your own face. It changes the demand into a request, giving the worker still a way to refuse n not have the situation become akward**

** sorry I learned this in my linguistics class n I'm excited to info dump-

♧ Like- bro has more reasons to speak more politely to Ron than not-- and yet he never stops commanding Ron without sugarcoating/politeness-filtering anything

So if that ain't bratty--- hiding behind the employer contract frfr

-

Ok so Alberu he justifies is rudeness as "im helping the both of us, shut up and trust me"

Ron its "you're working under me so ima use you like I should"

◇ what of Eruhaben then? (Hopefully I'm spelling his name right, the golden dust dragon)

Eruhaben doesnt need to benefit from Cale (initially, when they first meet), nor is he ever hired, under contract, or even under oath to work with their crew. He's seen as someone immensely powerful and could absolutely clock them and their whole kingdom if aggro-ed, and yet Cale proceeds to interact with this ancient dragon older than everyone in this world except maybe the World Tree (often signifying the START of a world so Erubenny here's currently second oldest existance ever during Cale's time??) - interacting as if blud was just ur average joe----

Dawg TToTT. Cale. Your fearlessness is CRAZYY. Anyways Eldest Existance Goldie here is turned into a Gramps for the children and ong thats already a ton of audacity of Cale n his crew to do that to the guy

◇ But what does Cale do next--?? Cause at least he's decent enough to not ask Eruhaben to take care of every bit of their human problems (which is probably how Cale's able to justify treating Eruhaben as a Babysitter, L)

◇ what he does next is fcking sbdbsbvd [extends] this Eldest of the Elders* lifespan. Partly to benefit Eruhaben (but blud was alr accepting how it was his time so couldnt care less ab dying), and mostly to benefit the children, specifically Raon, the baby dragon under his care.

TTTTTOTTTTTT WHAT A REAL ONE AJDUUEGSHGSHSHHHSHHH

*I say eldest, but im aware there were dragons n other existances living before Eruhaben, but in the time of the story takes place, Goldie Gramps is one of the oldest existances in that world, yea

◇ does this count as Cale being a brat?? Tho it mutually benefits both parties, it does still impose Cale's agenda (having a mentor figure and babysitter for the Raon, n also a senior dragon in his crew) onto Eruhaben who - as I've said before - was Hella ready to cozy up 6 ft under. Brother probbaly already went thru his stages of grief before Cale was even born, thats how Not in his Plan Cale's push for a life extension was--

◇ and Cale continues to push when Eruhaben makes his stance clear he shouldn't extend his life, he's tired, use the artifact on someone else, etc. Etc. Cale knew to be pushy?? To continue bothering Gramps like that?? Cause it works out, Eruhaben does give in with seemingly no regrets after--

Cale. Who knows how to take a no (when it doesn't involve his own health anyway). How we see him not asking the OP cast in his crew [[literally most his main crew]] for an easy way out if he, himself, can't logic out any benefits for them directly >> even if those people are willingly like "take me off the bench, coach!!"

Ex. How he keeps Choi Han around to "make him the hero" only for the guy to refuse any title or land from being rewarded by the feds (Prince Alberu) and suddenly Cale doesnt know what to do w him, but like, let's him stay by his side anyway cause he said he wanted to (similar to Raon tbh, aww the trio frfr) -- but Cale rarely actually orders Choi Han to do anything (I might need to fact check this tbh) its a just a ton of Choi Han "I need to get stronger to be more helpful!" N acting sybiosisly w Cale's plans til Cale eventually expects Choi Han's involvement n just alw has a place for him in his plans (if it isn't solo altruistic time that is)

Tldr; Cale --- who takes care of the littles, and is a brat to the elders *with justification* --- would totally start demanding/doing these acts of warmth after some time

Perhaps first tsundere-like in the "i deserve this" manner like he does with his "act" of being a papered noble son

@penguin-stars talks ab this pt really well in this post [here]

only to still stiffen once the others allow it + even support it, and then eventually find a place for himself in all that warmth of his new family n friends <333

Do you think Cale would stand along the edges of the group when they're all happy and domestic sometimes...? Just feeling kind of disconnected and distant because this amount of happiness and this amount of closeness was just a distance dream when he was roksoo

Maybe he watches the children get praised and he's so proud of them, but can't help but feel the dull ache of jealousy. Of course, he would also add to the pile of praise and love, but deep inside his inner child just... Aches. Deep inside he just wishes he could've had this when he was younger. The praise, the love, the gentle touches full of warmth. Maybe he just can't help but feel so far away because it feels so.. unreal. He's never had the chance to properly grow up, so he definitely wishes for these kids to grow up happy, loved, cherished, and healthily. Hell, he will make sure they do.

Maybe he freezes when the kids first begin to hug him? The warmth is foreign, but not unwelcome... So he indulges them. Giving them the love and affection that he wishes he received as roksoo. Turns out he's also touch starved as well, so he grows to love these interactions with the children. Eventually he starts initiating them by himself, finding his hand gently carding through On or Hong's hair, or maybe his hand rubbing circles on the small of Rain's back? But only for the children. Children are honest, children are safe. He doesn't know how to tell his friends he wishes to be closer. So he keeps quiet, inner child longing and aching.

He watches the way Ron interacts with Beacrox. The way on the outside they're stoic and seemingly cold, almost like some sort of business exchange. He sees it though. The way Ron's eyes soften when he watches his son cook, the pride that swirls behind those eyes just for his son. He feels in an outsider. Sure, he has his family, but could he really be considered theirs? He feels like an imposter, coming into their home with their son's body and face, so he only watches as they bond. The warmth of just being within distance is both soothing and never enough. He distances himself in hopes of keeping these pesky feelings in check. He tells himself to be happy with what he has because it's already a blessing to have so many people who stay with him because they want to be with him.

Maybe he doesn't know how to interact with parental figures, feeling awkward when they welcome him. His mind convinces him that their welcome is just polite. When he agrees to act as Naru, he thinks of it as just a deal. Both parties benefit from it. As Fredo continues to shower him with gifts and love, he finds himself relaxing in the warmth. Just for a bit. Then he walls himself off again. He receives a toy as a gag gift one day. Some sort of play set that they (maybe Alberu and Rosalyn) think would make him give them a deadpan look in return. They're shocked as they silently watch Naru's eyes sparkle as he explores the set. His touch soft, so so soft, as if the toys were an illusion that would crumble away if he were to rough. They expect a sarcastic "thanks" with some sort of annoyed look paired with it. Instead they watch from behind their disguised friend, barely hearing the whispered "...thank you" because Naru's voice is just above a whisper. (His ears are red as he thanks them, he doesn't turn away from the set. Too happy to have received it because it resembles the one he had always longingly gazed at through the display windows. He couldn't ask for it, so he just looks on, smaller hands pressed against the cool glass in his memory).

He's on guard while he stays with Fredo, but his inner child can't help but cheer at the unlimited food and sweet. Happy to be able to just receive instead of all the give give give he's had to do growing up. He feels warm as he nibbles on a cookie, sitting on a plush couch.

Cale is too scared though. He doesn't reach out, bringing this love closer to him and claiming them as his. He just accepts the in the moment love that's directed towards him, grateful for what he can get.

And they slowly begin to notice the longing in his eyes. The way he attentively watches as the children are introduced to more games and experiences. (It hurts them more later on when they learn what kind of world he had grown up in as Roksoo).

Cale doesn't seem to notice the loving looks he receives from the people around him. He just assumes that it isn't for him. So when Eruhaben starts to press his cool hands against his forehead, gently grasping his face as the dragon checks him over for any more injuries... He finds himself overjoyed. Confused, but overjoyed.

Or when he finds himself noticing how Rosalyn and Choi han seem to sit ever so closer, with their legs pressed against his and their arms brushing against him. He finds himself relaxing, just appreciating the feeling of being close with them.

Cale treasures the people around him. They notice how Cale feeds the children before himself, watching them eat for a few minutes before he breaks out of some sort of train of thought. (He can't forget the days where food was limited. The cries of poor, innocent children when their stomachs felt like they would just collapse inwards and consume itself. He doesn't ever want to see the people he loves have to think before eating, rationing off some incase there isn't food next time). Alberu gifts him more snacks-- batches of cookies that are easily shared and plentiful enough that he doesn't hesitate before eating some himself. Beacrox cooking more and more, trying to show that if Cale asked, he will receive. How there's plenty of food to go around.

(he grew up in such an unstable environment that being this secure feels like a dream).

I wanna write a fic... But I'm not that confident in my writing sdjdjhff

[babyboywilson]

sitting on the couch, hands interlocked, with a mostly empty box of valentine’s chocolates balanced on cas’ thigh, dean squeezed cas’ hand softly.

4 years.

they’d been married 4 years.

dean didn’t even think he’d be able to manage 4 months in an actual relationship without pushing the other person away or running the other direction as quick as he could because commitment wasn’t his thing. but here cas was 4 years later. still sitting by dean’s side. still wearing the ring dean had slid onto his ring finger in front of their family. still loving dean more and more every day.

cas had showered dean with valentine’s and wedding anniversary gifts throughout the day. but dean was holding onto his gift for cas. waiting for the right moment to give it to him. they were sat watching an old western movie-one of dean’s favorites- but dean wasn’t paying attention. he was reflecting on their marriage. how they’d ended up here. how they were still married after 4 years.

there were good days and bad days. days where dean couldn’t stand looking at cas’ face and he stormed out the room and blasted his music as loud as it would go. days where cas would sleep on the couch because he refused to touch dean if dean was going to act like a dick. but the one thing they never did was walk out. they never left. they went as far as a couple rooms apart and that was it. they needed the reassurance that even when they were seething with rage, they could still find their way back to each other. they could still see each other and know they were there. because that fear that seeped in was undeniable. the fear clawed it’s way up dean’s throat - seeing cas dragged away by black ooze with no way for dean to save him. the despair cas felt of being completely alone with nothing but emptiness surrounding him and no way back to dean.

but there were good days too. and god, were they good. the way cas would surprise dean by cooking dean dinner on a random tuesday after dean had been out in the garage working on the impala for hours. dean stopping to get cas flowers on his way home from the grocery store just to see the fond smile on cas’ face. the absolutely tender way cas made love to him, so soft and gentle it tore dean’s heart apart and put it back together again brighter than ever. how cas would be walking down the hall with a basket of laundry and dean would snag the basket from his hands, press cas back against the wall, and make out with him until there were stars in cas’ eyes just because the angel was walking around in dean’s old sweatshirt and the sight was so good dean wanted to meld their souls together by kissing cas breathless.

it was worth it. the good and the bad. it was worth it all to have this beautiful angel by his side.

his husband.

cas squeezed dean’s hand back, breaking dean from his thoughts.

“what are you thinking about?” cas asked, dragging his thumb softly across the back of dean’s hand.

dean dragged his eyes away from the tv and over to cas. he hadn’t been watching anyway. he’d been too busy thinking about cas. “you,” he said simply.

“i’m right here,” cas said gently. the same way he always did when dean got lost in thought. that soft look was back on cas’ face again. the look of sheer adoration the angel got when he allowed dean to see and feel the love cas had for him.

finally, dean had found the right moment. with his free hand, he reached out and opened the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out a wooden box. a box he’d spent weeks carving himself in the garage. “happy valentine’s day,” dean said, placing the box into cas’ hand.

cas looked down at the box, then up to dean, and back down to the box. “that’s… there’s… where did you find a box with enochian on it?”

shaking his head, dean shifted cas’ fingers to trace over the enochian carved into the lid of the box. “i didn’t.”

cas’ eyebrows scrunched downwards in confusion, until he’d traced the last letter with his fingertip. ‘cas winchester.’

“you made this?”

dean nodded softly. “enochian is a bitch of a language to learn,” he said with a huff. guiding cas’ hand, he opened the box, revealing a carved wooden ring cushioned in the center of the box.

cas’ eyes filled with tears as he stroked his thumb over the ring. recognition dawned over his face a moment later as he translated the enochian. “that’s… our vows. you engraved our vows in enochian?”

all dean could do was nod. his throat suddenly felt thick with unshed tears and words seemed to fail him. slowly, cas slipped the ring from the box and slid it onto his ring finger above the gold band that dean had placed there 4 years ago. on their wedding day, dean had brought cas’ hand to his lips and kissed his finger where the ring sat. and he found himself copying the motion now; guiding cas’ hand up to his lips and placing a soft lingering kiss against the wooden ring on cas’ finger.

the look in cas’ eyes as he locked gazes with dean was so lovestruck that dean glanced away. too much love. too much devotion. it made dean feel like he was breaking apart; shattering into pieces in cas’ hands.

“dean,” cas murmured, reaching out and stroking his hand across dean’s jaw; tilting his head until cas could rest their foreheads together.

taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, dean whispered in enochian, “I love you, cas. happy anniversary.”

when their lips met in kiss, dean felt cas’ grace spark between them; healing dean and intertwining their love until it became one. “I love you, too.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Sorry, it's me again! I't just that I really, really love your writing and I forgot to mention "Alley boyfriends" and "Alfred's Boy". If you could update either of those I would be very grateful <3 <3 <3

The first sign that something is wrong is finding Damian with a bow and arrow in the tallest room at Wayne Manor. Or, more specifically, seeing the boy aiming the arrow out the window in the direction of Dick and Danny cuddling in a backyard hammock.

Thankfully, he had been fast enough to snatch the arrow from the air before it went anywhere near the cuddling duo. Damian insisted he wasn't aiming for either of them- just the strings holding the hammock up.

The reason? Dick had gone over the agreed-upon cuddle time, and Damian wanted to make him stop. Bruce knew it was just because he was jealous.

Bruce had seen his youngest making doe eyes at Danny earlier that morning while the boy was doing his daily chores. He's been more energetic since Wes left and was willing to share his half-human status with the Wayne household after a talk with Alfred.

All of his children took the news well. They had many teammates who weren't human, but Bruce could tell Danny was still afraid to tell them the truth. Despite the many times Danny provided support in the Batcave and knew of said teammates, he still feared that he would be the exception to their acceptance.

It seemed his parents had left more prominent scars than Danny had been willing to show.

After a brief but vague- Alfred made it a point that his contact did not want Danny stating what he was until it was safe to do so- the Waynes got the gist that Danny needed cuddles.

Almost all his youngest had quickly offered their services, but Alfred and Bruce stopped it. The two men created a cuddling schedule, like a meal plan, to help Danny regain a healthier state, along with the few older ones, excluding Jason.

His second eldest had been highly offended to not be on the schedule, but Alfred calmed him with a whisper. "Think about how hilarious this will be to watch?" Jason had returned to his romance novel, cackling like a loon.

He was easy to manipulate.

Alfred forbade Bruce from telling Jason about Danny's slight crush. The reason was that Clockwork had already spoken to Alfred about it being a passing fancy, and it was safer for Danny's kind to not be rejected until later. Bruce burned with many questions, but he would never dare investigate Alfred or his affairs.

He respected him too much.

Now, if only his kids would behave.

"Damian Wayne, we do not shoot arrows at our siblings." Bruce scolds, wagging a finger at the boy's pouting face.

"But you let Drake throw a spoon at Girl Row!" Damian whines, crossing his arms. In moments like this, Bruce is violently reminded that for all his advanced vocabulary and intelligence, his son is still a fourteen-year-old teenager who could act childish.

"I did not let Tim do anything. He's ground for throwing things at Harper." Bruce sighs, rubbing his right temple. A pounding headache was starting to build up there. "Just because she came to watch Danny's cooking lesson with Tim and Cullen and chose to give Danny a quick snack with her hug does not mean Tim had a right to throw utensils."

"It wasn't even aimed at her head," Tim mutters from the hallway. His punishment for his behavior was that he was to stay within the six feet radius of Bruce. It was the only surefire way to ensure Tim wasn't up to something, like working on case work or plotting to overthrow a small government.

Bruce would break out the kid's leash if he tried to run again.

It was hilarious when Tim was thirteen, and the kid leash still had the same threat level at seventeen as it did then.

"That's another week," Bruce tells him.

"What!? I didn't even do anything!"

"Two weeks."

"Come on!"

"Three weeks." Bruce drawls, which causes Damian to smile until his father looks him in the eye. "I don't know why you seem too amused. You're grown for two weeks as well, young man."

Damian throws his arms up, wisely keeping his mouth shut as he steps with Tim. Now Bruce had two kids he couldn't let out of his sight, and they did something crazy. He marches them out of the room towards his office, where he plans on getting some work done and putting them both to do some extra class studying.

They pass by Jason, who looks like the cat that got the cream at their obvious grounding. He waves a couple of tickets in the air. "It seems like you brats are grounded. Too bad, I was about to invite you to show at the planetarium."

"Why would I waste my time there?" Damian scoffs as Tim glares. Bruce feels his headache growing stronger as Jason smugly proclaims.

"Danny is a huge star nerd. He was excited to finally see the show now that he was feeling better. He wanted us all to go together, but you'll have to miss it since you're still getting grounded at your age." Jason mocks, walking away while shaking his head. Bruce has only a few seconds to wonder why his second is like this, and then Tim and Damian explode with pleas to let them join the rest of the children.

He stays firm in their punishment, but he honestly doesn't feel safe by the way the two, right in front of him, start putting their difference aside and communicate with mere glances a plan of escape. Bruce wishes their corporation wouldn't come at the expense of his sanity.

He glances out the window, watching Dick and Danny talk, and it hits him suddenly that Dick is making that face he usually reserves for staring at baby ducks and baby elephants. His eldest was forming a deeper bond with the boy, which could mean several things, but the center of it all was what made him such a good leader.

Dick was breaching the walls Danny had built so strongly around him.

By tonight, Bruce would not be surprised if Dick started calling Danny his little brother. Coupled with the effort Jason put in to get Danny out of the house and around more people, the boy was healing in a way he so desperately needed.

He was so proud of them. Bruce is so glad the kids allowed him into their lives in moments like these. They saved him more times than he counted, and he does not, meanwhile, being Batman.

The kids saved Bruce Wayne, and he hopes they will save Danny Fenton similarly if the younger boy allows it. Not just because he's Alfred's boy but because he is a Wayne in a different shade.

Danny's face lights up with a smile, looking far more alive than ever before, and Bruce's eyes soften. Then they harden when he spots Steph creeping closer to the hammock from behind some bushes, a garden hose in her hand.

"No! No, no!" He shouts, running down the hallway with Tim and Damian behind. "Don't even think about it, young lady!"

[xiepheer]

hello!! see your new hehe can u do headcannons on what yandere beasts would be like with a spouse, whos real gentleeeee

Yandere Beasts with their gentle spouses! 💖

Hello everyone! Doing one of my first requests! I hope u like this! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Also reader here is GN so u can choose what gender this will take over!

Now unfortunately, due to the lack of information of the 2 other beast cookies, I would only do 3 which are the released cookies. I hope yall forgive me 😭🙏

Happy Valentine's my pookies!

Shadow Milk cookie

Ahh the master of deceit. What a surprise.

Now of course, with his spouse he very VERY loves would do anything for them.

The jester clown would do anything for his gentle spouse.

Everyone didn't expect the clown to have a spouse who is also very loyal to him.

The beast of deceit, having a spouse. Cookies wondered who even wanted to be with them? (me.)

His beloved spouse was not only small and petite that needed his protection, but also is gentle and is the only cookie that cared for him.

Now he is a jealous cookie.

He does NOT like male cookies that he doesn't trust or know.

This jester would do anything for his darling spouse.

He would kill

He would rob

He would destroy

All for his beloved spouse.

After the forks trapped them, he was worried. Scared.

Scared that another cookie might still his beloved spouse while he's sealed in the silver tree.

Worried that they might get hurt but he can trust Candy Apple cookie and Black Sapphire cookie, right?

Right and wrong.

Candy Apple cookie tried many ways to isolate or make her 'Master Shadow Milk cookie' hate his spouse but couldn't do so.

Candy Apple's jealousy just grew when she sees her master's smile grow wider when he sees his lovely beloved spouse.

Now Black Sapphire Cookie watch over his Master's spouse. He would make sure that Candy Apple cookie don't hurt them.

Or else not only Candy Apple cookie be doomed, but also him for not protecting them.

He would do anything for them. He would destroy everything. Cause chaos. Just for them.

Just to show his 'love' to them.

He would destroy everyone that has a problem agaidnt his spouse.

Have a bully? Sure no problem

Got someone liking them? He would NOT let the cookie that likes his spouse slide. His spouse is his only.

Got someone his spouse would like to get rid of? Sure he can make them into his puppets.

His spouse is only his and his only.

Burning Spice cookie

Now Burning Spice cookie would be the type of ruler with a LOT of spouses but of course, he has favoritism.

This specific spouse was the only soft cookie he has encountered in the Spice desert or Spice Kingdom.

All his other spouses were not the same as his chosen one.

They were all rude and mean, meanwhile his chosen one was gentle, soft, and kind.

This was what he wanted. Under all those destruction, he also needs some relief but couldn't do so since his other spouses acted so rude to him like how any ordinary spice cookies would be.

His favorite spouse is gentle, soft, nice, and despite his destructive personality, they would not leave him.

That is what made him want them more.

Their soft dough, cute dimples, soft cheeks, gentle and carefree personality made him go crazy.

He NEEDS to protect them.

No matter what. He needs to.

The Great Destroyer has needs too.

This Great Destroyer would go crazy for them.

He would destroy countless villages or cities just for them.

After the forks trapped them, he was cursing the witches for sealing him and his friends and most importantly, sealing him away from his beloved spouse.

He was angered. He tried the best he could to try and break free from the forks but the forks wouldn't budge.

Countless attempts of breaking free using his axe and nothing worked.

Now after he was sealed, he can only count on Nutmeg Tiger cookie to protect them and make them the ruler while he was gone.

Nutmeg Tiger cookie on the other hand, did the command. She knew too well what's gonna happen if she disobeys his command.

His other spouses whom he didn't seem to care about but his beloved spouse was angered.

They were all protesting, "Why didn't WE get a turn!?", "This is so unfair!", "let us do what we want since we're his spouses as well!"

Nutmeg Tiger cookie did nothing to them but use her guards agaidnt them.

Telling them if they ever hurted The Great Destroyer's beloved chosen spouse, he would destroy them with no second thought.

Meanwhile, in the silver tree, he couldn't stop thinking about his beloved one. He was actually scared.

Scared that his spouse mind get ended by his other spouses due to jealousy.

But back to the kingdom, they knew better than to mess with Burning Spice cookie.

And they came to the conclusion that his favorite spouse is his and his only.

Mystic Flour cookie

Ahh the cookie of Apathy.

She might not show it to her spouse but her spouse will know she actually loves them by how gentle she is with them.

She has not been gentle with any cookies yet since her corruption.

And yet, eversince she has found them, she felt the urgent need to protect them, to give them whatever they wanted, to love them like no one did to her.

She has always been caused chaos with the other cookies but after she married her spouse, she changed.

She felt an fluttering feeling she hadn't felt.

Now her spouse being the gentle cookie they are, always wanted her.

The cookie of Apathy wasn't expecting such thing.

She was gonna turn the cookie into flour when she couldn't bear to do it.

She has a feeling she has not felt before.

She vowed to protect her beloved spouse, bring what they needed for them.

She would turn any cookies and friends are NOT excluded into flour.

She would cause mass destruction and chaos in Earthbread just for them.

She would do anything for her gentle spouse.

She would love their kisses, hugs, and cuddles coming from them.

Now since those forks fell on her, she just knew she couldn't leave her beloved spouse all alone without her guard.

She desperately tried so hard to reach out for them but the seal closed.

Her beloved spouse was also reaching out as well.

Her days were filled in sorrow and sadness as the thought of her beloved spouse all alone out there, without protection filled her head.

Although she doesn't show it, she would cry a little as the thought takes over.

Her jam was also stripped away from her which made her feel a little weak but not weak enough for her to be considered as a normal cookie again.

She trusts that Could Haetae cookie would watch over her spouse and keep them safe until she has returned and until her soul jam has returned to her.

Now being with Cloud Haetae, they would try their hardest and best to keep their beloved Mystic Flour cookie's beloved spouse safe.

They worked for them, was there for them like Mystic Flour cookie.

With the reminder of the cookie of Apathy, they knew that her beloved spouse was needed to be guarded at all times and that was all they were doing.

Mystic Flour cookie let anyone know who her beloved spouse belongs to.

Hope yall like this! BTW I'm a retired wattpad writer cuz I lost all the motives 1 yr ago but now I think I'm feeling it again 😎

Anyways forgive me for my mistakes if I ever had some while writing this. Have a wonderful day!

[currentfandomkick]

Adding on for Danny’s support rats.

They are usually in hoodie pockets, or the hood of his hoodie. He does have one on his shoulder (who varies).

As Phantom his rats get caught up in his transformation and the first time he was horrified he killed them.

Frostbite and other IR doctors confirm he packbonded to them on both sides to the liminal rats that they can shift forms. In shifted form they are functionally blob ghosts.

Phantom is open about his service blobs and said blobs are PISSED when questioned about being with Their Ghost. Let the blobs be legit more dangerous than Phantom when defending their obsession (Phantom’s health) and have that be a ‘wait a minute, why do you, a ghost, need support blobs?’ And be a domino for a lot of the Fenton Research on Ghosts and how ghosts interact with one another and the living.

Notably the usually peaceful blobs only going after whoever questions their presence with phantom… who does admit they are his support animals and it’s rude to ask what they’re for. Especially given how many mortals are team End Ghosts.

Let Wes be the one reporting this live and be annoyed Phantom will do interviews with him. But not regular media outlets as ‘you don’t give off the vibes of bleeds, leads. So lower live dissection chances!’

And if seeing phantom with his support animals and Cujo forces a lot of Amity to starting making ‘disabled dead teen is protecting our city from other ghosts. The fuck?’ Well.

Someone gently asks Phantom why he does? Ina Live with Wes? ‘Oh, uh. Very personal but the closest thing i have to a grave is what they’re using to here. So it’s sort of like constantly having chest bursters and then they go around wrecking things and hurting people because they don’t take earth etiquette classes or slept through them. So fight until they get it—which some do! Johnny and Kitty don’t break shit anymore unless someone else starts it, and Ember agreed to can the mind control as she is better than that and will prove it—and if that fails i just play with the Fenton Tech until i get something to stop then and drop them off close enough to their homes. Except for the wanderers. They get to choose where in the realms i send them and go about from there.’

Now the public in Amity is finding out that Phantom is stuck with the Fenton Portal having disturbed his grave.

People jokingly ask him if he has an obsession and he just shrugs. “I only woke up with the portal, and a lot of ghosts don’t settle on something for centuries if they’re tied to a place. Portal ghosts are like, stuck until portal is destroyed or something? Clocky said my job is to handle the balance between the EverChange and ChoosenFrozen realms but like, we don’t get obsessions until after portal stops being a portal. So eh?”

And danny’s support blobs? Recorded in history as his ‘attendants’ and occasional aides in battle.

So

When the JL summon him and Phantom has rats? Well it is his first summon and his rats decided to stay in ‘mortal’ form to better explore… and do threat checks to Their Big Sick Rat Friend and triggers.

Pluto is ready to bite Flash for the insult to Their Presence with Big Sick Rat Friend.

Danny just hums. “Ya know, you’re the ones calling a dead disabled kid here, against my will. Not the other way around.”

That got more than a few members to wince.

“So asking clocky and frostbite about this later… once i track them down. So, what do you want?”

Diana stepped forward. “We called for someone able to contain the entity that took over the watch tower, if not defeat it.”

Danny hummed, toying with the thermos at his hip. “If i do, can you get your lawyers to look at overturning the Anto-Ecto Acts?”

Danny has a group of rats he rescued from a lab, they follow him everywhere even as Phantom, the group of five become Danny's emotional support Mischief and service animals, his folks even help make service vests for them when they're out and about. The rats have space themed names and alert for different things.

Astro alerts when Danny's about to have a panic attack

Pluto alerts when Danny's heart goes wonky besides ghost stuff

Cosmo alerts before Danny has a seizure so he can alert the others around him

Hailey alerts for pain flares

Orion alerts for tremors

Danny's portal accident messed up his nervous system bad enough that he needs his service animals or someone with him that recognizes when he's about to have a flare up or a seizure.

Well, one day, Danny gets summoned by the league, and his support mischief is on his shoulders. Flash immediately asks what's with the rodents, and Danny responds with "Kinda rude to ask someone about their service animals." Batman could already feel the headache that would be the HR service animal refresher course. First, though, they had a big threat to deal with

Ooh, this idea is very interesting. Danny having a support/service animal but in the form of rats has a nice symbolism. Their names and jobs are also really cute :3

[akimoroll]

bluff

nagumo yoichi x afab!reader — 3k wc — ao3

c/w: smut. porn with some plot. semi-public sex. rivals w/ benefits. jcc nagumo (if you’re uncomfy with that pls step away from the vehicle) mdni.

a/n: was having second thoughts about posting this because im super insecure with writing porn but here we are. happy hearts day to the 4 ppl who like my shit. and to @angstigone, it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you 🌷

Sakamoto Taro and Akao Rion. These two were the ones you wanted to be as strong as. But Nagumo came into the picture and out of the three, he seemed the most approachable and you’re not the nicest with asking favors either.

“Me? Train…you?” asked Nagumo, head tilted to the side.

“Yes. I need it to happen as soon as possible.” You answered way too quickly and way too plainly.

“What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?”

That was the question that started it all. A bet made between just the two of you. Whoever scores higher in class activities for the week would get the upper hand and have their way with the loser. Nagumo lets you win without fail while he decides on what he wants out of it. He plays along because it’s fun while he gives you the satisfaction that you’re winning against him.

You took advantage of this because it meant you could improve yet there are times you wished he’d take you seriously. He seemed too carefree all the time and it bothered you. It bothered you so much that your competitiveness grew into you wanting to rival him instead of his other two friends.

These games went on and on, far longer than you both remember. You were getting better at it. However, it was becoming repetitive.

Until it wasn’t.

Lately, when he pins you down—on the floor, against the wall, or wherever, and his taunts hidden beneath layers of:

“Ah, that was close! Getting stronger now, aren't you?”

“You’re making it harder for me these days.”

“Relaaax… You left yourself wide open with that temper of yours.”

—begin rolling out of his mouth, it sends tingles all over your body, making it harder to ignore the way he affects you. And when you do the same and put your whole body weight on him, you’d notice the slight flush on his cheeks, ignoring and thinking they’re just from exertion.

Until he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. So you asked, “What’s that fucking face all about?”

And he cluelessly countered, “Huh? What face?”

“That face you keep doing! You’re blushing like some…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words before you hesitantly continued, “…virgin.”

And you swore you saw something shift with his smile yet it was gone before you could catch it. He shrugged, “Well, yeah, it’s because I am.”

“Pfft, yeah right. No shit.” you said after an eye roll. But when he wasn’t biting back, you had to do a double take, asking, “Wait, really?”

And sometimes being driven and nosy is not the best combo. Because just like always, Nagumo went along when you had suggested another idea. You were curious to see how he reacts to you. How pathetic he can become under your touch. Wipe the smugness off his face. Watch him break character as he succumbs at the mercy of using just your hands, just your mouth, or simply the sweet nothings you’d whisper into his ear.

It was initially intended as a silly joke when you asked if he wanted to try something yet here you are, in too deep, flown too close. You had some sort of control for once and the thrill had you addicted.

Him lying about his chastity crossed your mind but who cares at this point. After all, he’s such a pretty face. Prettier when he smiles. Prettiest when he cries.

Neither of you showed any hint of disapproval towards it so it became one of your routine interactions. Every single time you leave him behind in that dark and cramped utility room, you act as if nothing happened. He does the same, if anything, he does it better. Another unspoken contest added on top of an existing one.

It’s better that way, you think.

All of this is nothing more than just a bet anyway.

With Valentine’s day around the corner, Nagumo thinks about the piles and piles of chocolate boxes he’s once again going to receive. Enough for him to walk around the JCC like he’s some kind of celebrity. He’s aware that you never cared for such things. Still… He wanted to know. What’s the harm in asking?

“W-What are you up to on Valentines?” Nagumo stammers around his question, a dazed smile lingers on his lips as you take him throat deep.

Wiping your mouth with your hand and stroking his dick with the other, you ponder before speaking, “And you’re asking me because…?”

“I heard—” he gasps with a shaky exhale as you begin pressing circles over his tip with your thumb. Struggling to maintain control in the face of your touch, he continues, “you’re finally making chocolates for me this year.”

Looking up at him, you chuckle softly, “Must be your other bitch.”

“Shh, quiet down, someone might hear you’re jealous.” He attempts a coy grin before gasping once more, eyes rolling at the back of his head as you drag the length of his dick on your tongue before slowly pushing into your mouth once again.

Just for you to stop and coo at him, pouting, “Aw~ He thinks he’s so funny.”

“I am funny. You look like you’re having lots of fun right now.”

“So much fun that I’m your secret… And you can’t tell a fucking soul. Keep it up.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I think it’s quite romantic.”

He snorted, “You’re sick and you’re mean. I have feelings you know…”

“For me?” You giggle before continuing, “Or you want me to give you something to cry about?”

Nagumo suppresses a chuckle as he closes his mouth like an imaginary zipper, tilting his head back as he tries to stop himself from blowing his load right then and there (yet fails miserably) with the image of your face at the forefront of his mind.

Nagumo’s done playing with his food.

Days before Valentines, you found yourself in a pinch. He didn’t let you win the bet this time. He scored higher than you in everything with ease and precision. An overkill to say the least. You’re well aware how he easily lets you win each time. It has always been one-sided. But the sudden change threw you off and had you feeling a mix of dread and anticipation for what’s about to come.

You’re pissed, flustered, with trembling fingers hidden inside clenched fists. Thinking, he’s going to have his way with you for the first time since this stupid bet started.

He smirks as he towers behind you while your mind races on all the possibilities on how he’s gonna strip you, bend you over, throw you around like a rag doll, have fistfuls of your hair as he fucks the living shit out of you. Maybe get his payback for all the teasing and edging you subjected him to, how you had him wrapped around your fingers behind closed doors.

Or so you thought.

In the confined space that you and him usually share secret meetings with, Nagumo has his chest pressed against your back as he fucks you softly. He covers you with his warmth. The room grows humid with him repeatedly sighing against your skin, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. There’s fondness in his touch with the way he has his hands all over you, like they had always belonged there.

There’s no rushing. He treats you with gentleness, like you’re the most precious little thing he’s ever laid his hands on. His voice slurs at the mentions of your name, breath feverishly hot against your neck. With his dick all wet and snug inside you, he makes you forget everything. The bet. The thoughts you had when you first walked in. Or whatever the fuck this one-sided rivalry was all about.

He’s got you thinking of him and him only.

As he parts your trembling legs wider, Nagumo reaches for a hand in between, whispering how wet you are, how good you make him feel. His long slender fingers pressing circles over your clit, making you whimper with his dick thrusting in and out of you. His movements ever so slow as you shudder under him.

He notices your hand slowly anchoring onto something. And one thing about Nagumo is he doesn’t like it when you cling onto something that isn’t him. He’d rather you claw at him, have fistfuls of his locks in your grasp, dig your fingers into his skin and have it painted blue and black, maybe draw a bit of blood like you always do.

So he lays you gently on a flat surface, that way he can have all your attention. He teases your folds before thrusting all the way in and then all the way out, again and again, coating his entire length with your wetness. He cradles the back of your head with his hands like a pillow to make it less uncomfortable for you, but more so to keep your eyes straying away from him. Your bodies mold into each other, keeping himself close to you as much as he possibly can, as if you’d escape if he clings a little less.

Finding yourselves face to face—just how he likes it—he inhales every soft sigh that escapes your lips, his voice breaking like stained glass every time he bottoms out with your pussy creaming around the base of his dick. He’s truly blushing now that he’s so completely lost in you, mesmerized by the fluttering of your lashes and the hazy look in your eyes as he thrusts deep inside you.

Nagumo could cum just by looking at you.

As a distraction, he thinks of something else to make the moment last longer, make it worthwhile. But then he remembers he’s never kissed you before. He thought about it maybe once or twice, doesn’t really matter since you never asked. You never initiated. Hell, you don’t even let him touch you. Not like this. Not when you see it as him one upping you. It had been enough for him that you’d let him watch you please yourself sometimes, telling him you’re being nice.

This is much more intimate than the acts you’ve shared thus far. And right now, you’re simply holding your end of the deal. Nothing more.

Yet you just had to shift it all one-eighty and go diving into his mind, whispering, “Yoichi, how come you never kiss me?”

He murmurs, “Thought you’d never ask.” and wastes no time, pressing his moist lips onto yours, deepening it as he feels you do the same. With all lips and tongue, your moans melt into his mouth. It’s all he could think about, your softness, the way you move your head to kiss him more, your sweaty palms cradling his face. He’s been denying himself of it this entire time and now it’s all he wants to do.

With his mind completely consumed by you and your pussy full of him, Nagumo finds himself hurtling so incredibly close to the edge. He picks up his pace, the pleasure slowly becoming unbearable for him with your moans turning into sweet sobs. Your pussy feels mind-numbingly good to him, clamping, squeezing around his dick like you’re milking him.

He leaves you wanting more as he pulls out. With brows knitted and mouth slightly parted, he pants softly as he strokes his dick so fucking wet from your dripping cunt. His chest heaves deeply, skin glistening with his sweat mixed with yours. You watch him cum all over your belly as he makes a face that you grew familiar with, yet now it feels all too different, and a part of you wishes he should’ve cum inside you.

Nagumo wonders why he waited so long to do this. It feels better than anything he’s done. So much better now that he’s doing it with you. The urge to kiss you once more overcomes him. And so he lets it. He makes his way down your neck, tracing your collarbone, circling in on your tits, taking his sweet time, staying there for a good while. He laps your nipples with his tongue, his thumbs drawing circles as he squeezes both in his palms.

He then finds his way to your arms. A kiss for every bruise and scar you had developed from training with him, he thinks they’re beautiful, clouding over the line between an apology and confession. He goes lower, his tongue sloppily swirls around your fingers and palms calloused from being so hard on yourself. Nagumo smirks as he meets your gaze, sealing it with wet kisses on the back of your hands like the gentleman he believes he is.

He goes lower and lower onto your belly, licking, tasting his own self off your skin. He leaves moist prints from your hips onto your thighs, kissing the back of your legs, sucking, biting gently down to your heels and toes. He kisses all over your body, leaving evidence of himself—digging in on every fucking inch of you. What a sight…he thinks, as you writhed under him.

Lifting your hips with your thighs over his shoulders, Nagumo swallows thick before dragging his tongue over your pussy. You’re dripping… making a mess, creaming all over his mouth. He draws faint circles as he toys with your clit, and when you buck your hips for more as your body shivers, he can’t help but meet your gaze and grin a little.

He squeezes the flesh of your thighs when you reach for his hair partially hiding his eyes, gripping them tight, pushing his face more desperately into your soaked cunt. Tingles run down his spine as you cry out his name in pleasure. You have him worked up once more, taking all his strength to fight the urge to fuck you again.

Nagumo holds you by the curve of your waist, keeping you in place as you arch your back once again. He’s drinking you, your juices trickling from the side of his mouth. You taste sweeter now when you say you’re close as you keep grinding your hips.

Having you fall apart for him is all he wants to see, all he wants to hear, all he wants to feel.

And he’s going to take you there.

So good, he murmurs an octave lower, encouraging you to fuck yourself into his mouth. A couple more rolls of your hips, a few more flicks of his tongue, you finally snap. And it feels so so good for Nagumo to make you cum, putting his mouth to good use and having you worked up in an entirely different way. You’re so pretty like this—breathlessly gasping curses alongside his name with your pussy melting onto his tongue.

He could do this for hours. Eat you out just to kill time. But he needs to be patient again, for now.

Replacing his mouth with a hand, he thumbs your clit while he continues to fuck knuckles deep inside you, curving and thrusting in slow paces. A wordless whine is all you could do as a protest, but he doesn’t stop. He leans closer to you, his kisses demanding and sloppy, showing how good you taste. Hazy brown eyes staring you down, he murmurs against your lips, “You alright? Enjoying yourself?”

A breathy “Shut up.” is all you could manage. Not sure if you’re simply fucked out, dazed, awkward, angry… or all of the above. His touch leaves you and you want it back more than you care to admit. He comes back and wipes you down, and then helps you with your clothes. He doesn’t say a word other than making sure if you’re okay. Everything feels normal and abnormal at the same time, making you momentarily forget how icky and unromantic the place was.

Nagumo may have done things to you that only lovers do.

And like a flip on a switch, he’s back to his usual self. His carefree innocent smile appears like nothing happened. So you try to play it cool as well, chuckling, “You’re still… D’you wanna go for round two?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He slips into his shirt and pants, dusting it with his palms before meeting your gaze, smiling, “It’s almost lights out. Come on.”

“Oh, right.” You nod, he opens the door and you both go your separate ways like usual.

First time you lost the bet.

First time Nagumo shows you what a true win feels like.

February 14 is here and after strolling around the bustling academy, pushing a cart full of sweets he received from his admirers in different departments, Nagumo and Sakamoto settle in the cafeteria, still drawing a steady stream of girls eager to give what they had prepared for them.

Across the room, you’re sauntering towards where Nagumo is, empty handed. And as you reach his pile of gifts, you grab one and plop down on his lap sideways before looking at him with a coy grin.

Nagumo watched the whole thing, his awe hidden behind a clueless smile as you slam the box less forcefully than you wanted to on the table. After prying it open, you select a piece, holding it between your fingers an inch closer to his lips. You pause to speak, “You know, I heard we’re a thing now.”

Nagumo blinks. “Ohhh? Says who?” He rests his cheek on his hand while he holds your waist with the other, his deep brown eyes now filled with amusement gazing up at you.

You feed him a piece, and then another, not giving him a chance to chew. And another one, until he has a mouthful of chocolate made by some girl who doesn’t matter right now. After looking around, you let your bloodlust seep out a little as you wipe the corners of his lips, just to spread it more messily. Leaning closer, softly, you finally answer, “Says me.”

Good fold, he thinks.

You see, the thing about Nagumo is he wants. He may not know exactly what it is all the time, but what he wants is what he gets. And right now, you’re exactly where it’s at.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

i need more connor/black!reader. how would the batfam react when they find out? what would they say if reader is attached to connor and if he is banned from them manor their gonna follow him because it’s not like they want to be in the manor anyways

Sorry it took me so long to reply my bitch ass was brain storming like crazy but now I shall feed you my children hope y'all like!!!

Conner and the weird neglected Black!reader relationship is hella one-sided; the reader can't comprehend someone liking them or even being attracted to them. The truth is, they’ve been isolated and neglected for so long that the idea of anyone giving them attention literally scares the reader. They just don’t know how to act. I mean, the reader was a victim of minor bullying, with boys or girls at school saying, “You’re cute,” just to laugh in their face, leaving the reader feeling undesirable and unattractive. So, just the idea of someone like Conner liking them is absolutely insane. But they don’t pick up on it at first; they take it as him just being sweet and friendly or not getting social cues. In reality, he’s trying every single game in the book to get them to date him. It’s like Conner is playing 4D chess while you’re over there playing checkers. Conner does everything for you to like him. He’ll read your favorite comics, play your favorite games, and watch 500 episodes of One Piece for you. If you don’t vibe with his punk look, he’ll change himself for you as fast as possible. He’ll go casual or nerdy—anything you want. You’re the puppeteer, and Conner’s the puppet, pulling his strings, making him dance and controlling his every movement. Till, you get bored. You’re the only person who gets to call him Kon-El, even though the meaning behind the name is absolutely heartbreaking. But when you see it, the name means something entirely different; it sounds sweet, kind, and loving, making the true meaning fade. That boy is your biggest fan, stalking every last one of your posts on social media. Still, his thumbs can’t scroll anymore, but when he confesses his feelings to you after that night in the entertainment room, you think he’s joking, like a whole prank crew is going to come out and laugh at you, and it breaks his heart. He would never do something like that to you, and he proves that he truly has feelings for you by kissing your doubts away. The two of you try your best to keep your relationship under wraps, but the Batfam finds out fast, thanks to one Wayne family fan posting a pic of you and your favorite test tube baby sharing a kiss before he’s off on a mission. The Batfam is pissed; I mean, you could do so much better, and they get seriously jealous of Conner and how you treat him sometimes. He throws it in Tim's face that you wear Superboy merch and not Red Robin merchandise, and it really ticks him off. Overall, Conner and the reader's relationship is pretty cute but also kind of toxic—Conner a full-on yandere and the reader slowly turning into a yandere over time. A match made in a laboratory, really.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Team Building

Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

Word Count: 7,352

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff, some crack.

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!

Summary: When Y/N and her annoying coworker Soonyoung are forced to share a hotel room during a business trip, tensions are high.

Content Warnings: Mentioned alcohol but everybody is sober during the smut, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, creampie, soft dom!Hoshi, fingering in the break room, situationship, angst with a happy ending, this man is an idiot I'm sorry. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: This fic is part of the Secret Cupid event hosted by the incredible @ddeonghwa-s! This particular fic was written for Bambi, aka @soongyeopsal. I hope you like it!

If y'all want to read the other fics that were written for this event, the masterlist can be found here!

Happy reading, and happy Valentine's Day!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo

Fic is under the cut.

Kwon Soonyoung was the bane of your existence. He had his charming moments, sure, and he always performed well at work, but he was also arrogant, loud, and just plain rude, especially to you. Every conversation that the two of you had, even if you were only talking to him because you needed to get work done, left you even more irritated with him than you were before. His answers were brief, his tone was sarcastic, and his lack of interest was evident in every word. However, you figured that you could deal with an annoying coworker. After all, you loved your job, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to find something in your field that paid as well as your position at Carat Interactive.

As annoying as Soonyoung was, however, you also had to admit that he was incredibly attractive, despite his tendency to act like a douchebag whenever you had the displeasure of speaking to him. His eyes were a warm shade of brown that made you melt every time you looked into them, his smile gave you butterflies every time you saw it, and his lips looked so kissable. You almost wanted to put aside your hatred to find out just how good of a kisser he was. Almost.

If Soonyoung was being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly fond of you either. He thought that you were far too pretentious and far too serious for your own good. Despite all of that, though, he still couldn’t help but think that you were absolutely beautiful. Every time he saw you in the office, he couldn’t help but stare, and he hated himself for it. That didn’t stop him from doing it, though.

One day, when your annoyance with Soonyoung was at an all-time high, Seungcheol, your boss, called a team meeting. It took longer than you wanted to admit for you to find the room, but eventually, you did. Then, when you walked through the door, the only empty seat in the boardroom was right next to Soonyoung, because of course it was. You really didn’t want to sit next to him, but your desire to avoid disrupting the meeting even more than you already had won out in the end. So, you quietly took a seat and prayed that Soonyoung would not speak to you. Of course, because the gods hated you, the moment he saw you, he asked, “You couldn’t find anywhere else to sit?”

“Look around. Do you see any other open spots?”

Seungcheol cleared his throat and asked, “(Y/N). Soonyoung. Is there a problem?”

“No, there isn’t,” you answered, “Apologies for the disruption.”

“Thank you. Now, onto the reason that I called this meeting,” Seungcheol began. “I’ve noticed several issues when it comes to cooperation and respect on this team. So, I have to ask. How are we going to get anything done if no one can work together?”

“Maybe if you didn’t hire pretentious idiots that don’t know what they’re doing, things would be easier,” Soonyoung muttered.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Soonyoung. With that attitude, we’re never going to get anything done. That’s why, as manager, I’ve decided to organize a team retreat. Hopefully, some team building exercises in a fun new location will help you all see the importance of working together.”

You wanted to complain, citing upcoming deadlines and your concerns about the nature of the “team building exercises” that Seungcheol mentioned, but you knew better than to argue with your boss, especially when he was angry.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

Seokmin was the first to speak up, asking, “Will we be paid for attending this retreat?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol answered.

“How long will the retreat last?” someone else asked.

“We’ll be gone for a week. Please make any arrangements that need to be made for pet care or childcare by Saturday, since we’re leaving next Sunday,” your boss replied. “Are there any other questions?” The room fell silent, so Seungcheol added, “Very well. If something comes up, and you do need to speak to me about the retreat, just come and find me in my office. This meeting is adjourned; thank you for your time.”

With the surprise meeting officially over, everyone left the room in hopes of finishing their assigned tasks before clocking out for the day. As you sat down at your desk, however, you heard an irritatingly familiar voice ask, “So, are you looking forward to the retreat?”

“Not even a little,” you replied, not even looking up from your work. “Are you?”

“Oh, totally,” Soonyoung said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “What could be better than being stuck with ‘Cheol and his ‘team building exercises’ for an entire week? It’s gonna be the highlight of my year.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at Soonyoung’s comment before you said, “Oh, you’re so right. I can’t believe I didn’t even consider the excitement of spending a week locked in a room with our entire team doing trust falls and talking about our feelings!”

After a brief silence, Soonyoung said, “Damn, (Y/N), I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, you never make jokes at work. I kind of thought you didn’t know how to make jokes at all.”

“Well, I do. I also know how to be serious when it’s necessary, like when I’m at work.”

“You really need to loosen up sometimes,” Soonyoung commented, his growing frustration evident in his voice.

“I do loosen up, just not here.”

Soonyoung huffed and walked away, seemingly bored of talking to you. You wanted to tell yourself that you didn’t care about his indifference, but you found that a small part of you was disappointed that he’d walked away. Sure, he drove you insane, but you also missed his little comments when he wasn’t around. However, you knew that if you told him that, you’d never hear the end of it. So, you kept your confusing feelings to yourself.

The rest of the week passed with only a few minor arguments with Soonyoung, and before you knew it, you were driving to the hotel where you were supposed to be staying for the retreat. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t dreading the retreat as much as you did when you first found out about it. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to be stuck in a hotel with your coworkers for an extended period of time in an unfamiliar area, but you still wanted to be optimistic. After all, you were getting paid to be there, which meant that you basically had a week off from your actual job while still bringing in money. Plus, a small part of you hoped to meet an attractive guy to hook up with in your free time.

Your optimism was snuffed out like a flame when you got to the hotel. Due to a scheduling error, despite both of your requests to the contrary, you would be sharing a room with Soonyoung. You tried to talk to Seungcheol about the error, but he told you that there was nothing that he could do. So, while you weren’t happy about it, you decided that you would try to make the best of a bad situation.

When you got to your room, you found Soonyoung sitting on one of the beds and scrolling on his phone. Without even looking up at you, he said, “Before you say anything, just know that I’m not happy about this either.”

“I wasn’t planning on saying anything,” you retorted. “I just wanted to sit in the room. Is that ok with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one that gets mad at me every time we talk.”

“No, I don’t. I just get tired of your pretentious fucking attitude.”

“I’m not pretentious; I just don’t screw around at work. You might wanna take some notes.”

“Why, so I can be the most boring person in the office? I’ll pass.”

“Fuck this, I’m going out.”

“Bye!”

After you left the room, you wandered around for what felt like hours before you found your friends Wonwoo and Mingyu at the hotel’s bar. When they saw you, they cheered and invited you over with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. Once Wonwoo noticed the look of irritation on your face, however, his smile was replaced with a look of concern as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sharing a room with Soonyoung,” you spat.

“Are you serious?” Mingyu asked. “I thought you specifically asked to share with anyone but him.”

“I did. Seungcheol said there was an error when the trip was booked, and there’s nothing he can do. Which means I have to deal with him for a week, with no breaks.”

“I mean, this is a break, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asked.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you replied.

As if on cue, you heard a voice behind you say, “Wonwoo! Mingyu! How are you guys?”

“Hi, Soonyoung!” Mingyu said, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “Wonwoo and I were just leaving to get some rest. (Y/N) just got here, though. You two should hang out!”

You gave Mingyu a death glare, and Soonyoung said, “That’s ok. I don’t think she wants to hang out with me.” If you didn’t know any better, you would have said that he sounded sad as he said it. That wouldn’t make any sense, though. Soonyoung hated you. Why would he be upset that you didn’t want to hang out with him?

You brushed off the thought and opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get the words out, Mingyu smiled again and said, “That’s not true! She’d love to spend some time with you. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?”

In that moment, you felt like you couldn’t say no. So, you gritted your teeth and said, “That’s right. I don’t mind,” turning around to see Soonyoung’s face change from one of disappointment to one of what you could really only describe as excitement.

“Really? It’s ok if-”

“Really, Soonyoung,” you said, softening when you saw the change in his demeanor. “Why don’t you find us a spot to sit, and I’ll order some drinks.” He nodded and left to find a table, and you turned back to your friend and asked, “What the fuck was that?”

“Trust me, (Y/N),” Mingyu said. “I’ve known Soonyoung since high school. He’s an idiot, but he’s not an asshole. He just acts all weird with you because he likes you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Watch how he acts after we leave. Then, when the two of you inevitably get drunk and hook up tonight, you can fall asleep afterward with the satisfaction that I was right.”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Sure, whatever. Bye.”

Mingyu and Wonwoo left, and you decided to order some sodas for you and Soonyoung. After all, you didn’t know what kind of alcohol he liked, and you really didn’t want to get drunk around him.

When you got back to the table with two glasses of cola in hand, Soonyoung smiled and said, “Thanks!”

“No problem. I didn’t know what kind of drink you’d want, so I just got sodas.”

“That’s ok. I don’t drink much, so I don’t really know either,” he responded with a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes before Soonyoung asked, “So, how was the drive here?”

“It could have been better. There was so much more traffic than I’m used to,” you responded with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god, I know! I guess Seungcheol picked a busy weekend or something. Listen, I love the guy, but his timing sucks when it comes to planning company events.”

You laughed a bit at Soonyoung’s comment, and some of the awkwardness in the air seemed to dissipate. You also noticed that there was a faint blush on his cheeks, but you decided not to comment on it. After all, you didn’t want the awkwardness to come back.

When Soonyoung heard your laugh, he was certain that it was the most beautiful sound that he’d ever heard. Sure, he still thought that you were far too serious at work, but actually interacting with you outside of the office made him start to reconsider the way he felt about you. He realized that he liked you a lot, and for a brief moment, he thought about asking you to continue the party in your room. He decided against it, however, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or come on too strongly.

As the night went on, you found yourself really enjoying Soonyoung’s company. He was one of the funniest people you’d talked to in a long time, he actually paid attention when you spoke, and he didn’t make a single rude comment the entire time you sat with him, still drinking sodas because neither of you wanted alcohol. You started to wonder what was different, since you’d been alone with him before, but you decided not to think about it too much. After all, there were far more interesting things to think about.

Whether it was the desperation that came from the dry spell you’d found yourself in for the past several months, the way Soonyoung looked at you as you told some story about a girls’ night gone wrong, or some strange combination of the two, you had no idea. All you knew was that you wanted Soonyoung, and you wanted him immediately.

After you finished your story, you looked at Soonyoung and asked, “Do you wanna go back to the room?”

With a smirk on his face that you knew would be the death of you, he asked, “Why? I thought we were having fun here.”

“Oh, I am,” you began, your nerves slowly starting to get the better of you. “I just thought we could have more fun back in the room.”

“What kind of fun?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Well, I have a few ideas.”

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

“When we get back to the room, I’d be happy to show you,” he said with a wink.

Before you knew it, you were paying for the drinks and walking back to your room with Soonyoung. When you got there, you had to wait for him to unlock the door, and it was torture. When the door finally opened, however, the frustration you were feeling shifted into something that you couldn’t quite name.

Soonyoung pinned you to the door the moment it was shut again, his lips meeting yours with a passion that could only be described as animalistic. As his lips moved against yours, a soft moan left your mouth, and he took that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Eventually, he pulled away to let you breathe, and the only thing you could think to say was, “Wow.”

“Already so flustered you can’t even speak? You’re so cute,” Soonyoung commented with a soft laugh.

A soft whine slipped out in response, and you said, “Please do something.”

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Want you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Just, please,” you begged, desperate for anything beyond what you’d already been given.

Soonyoung pretended to think for a minute before he smiled at you and said, “Lie down on the bed for me, baby.”

You immediately did as you were told, and Soonyoung settled himself between your legs before pulling your skirt up and your panties down. Then, he started placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh, only biting occasionally. Every touch left you wanting more, and you could only take so much teasing. When it all got to be too much, you whined and said, “Please, just fuck me already!”

Soonyoung laughed against you and said, “Alright, princess.”

With no additional warning or teasing, Soonyoung slowly licked a stripe up your pussy. A loud moan left your mouth at the sudden stimulation, and it was all you could do to stay still as he continued to eat you out there was nothing in the world that he wanted to do more.

Each time he moaned against you, shockwaves of pleasure went through your body, and you knew that you probably wouldn’t last long. You wanted to be embarrassed, since your annoying coworker was the reason you were so turned on, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. After all, Soonyoung was already better at pleasing you than any other man you’d been with before him.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moaned, tangling your hands in his hair. Soonyoung didn’t respond verbally, but the way he started to move his tongue faster after you spoke told you that he heard you loud and clear.

It was only a matter of time before you started to feel your release building inside you. With a loud whine, you said, “’m close.” Soonyoung groaned against you one more time, and that was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you with a loud moan of his name. He continued his movements as you reached your high, stopping just before the pleasure would have turned into pain.

Once you caught your breath, you sat up and pulled Soonyoung into a kiss, and the fire of lust that you thought had been put out was lit once again. Within minutes, both of you had thrown your clothes on the floor, and Soonyoung was on top of you. After he lined himself up with your entrance, you kissed him again, and he took the opportunity to carefully push into you.

A loud moan left your mouth as Soonyoung entered you, and you held onto him for dear life while you adjusted to his size. He was much bigger than the men you’d previously been with, so it took longer for you to adjust than you would have expected. Not that you were complaining, of course.

Once you were ready, you gave Soonyoung the green light, and he slowly started moving. Every drag of his cock inside you had you seeing stars, and you swore he was better in bed than anyone else that you’d been with before him. As he increased the speed of his thrusts, however, you found that you weren’t thinking about anyone else anymore.

Soonyoung loved watching you fall apart underneath him, if he was being completely honest. Sure, he didn’t exactly plan to sleep with you when he first ran into you at the bar, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. You felt too good around him for him to complain, and he loved every moan and whine that left your lips as he pounded into you.

Just like when he’d gotten you off with his tongue, you knew pretty early on that you probably wouldn’t last long with Soonyoung’s cock inside of you. Still, you really didn’t care. All you cared about was the pleasure coursing through your veins with every movement.

“Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Like this pussy was made for me,” Soonyoung said in between groans. You were too fucked out to respond verbally, but the fact that you started moaning louder after he spoke told him that you heard him loud and clear.

“I’m close, baby. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please, please, please,” you begged, desperate for Soonyoung to fill you.

Within seconds, Soonyoung reached his high, filling you with cum. Your release came not long after that, and you pulled him in for another kiss as you came undone around his cock. Eventually, you had to pull away for air, but the way he looked into your eyes as you came down from your high left butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face.

After you both caught your breath, Soonyoung said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” and climbed off of you. Once you felt like you could move, you took his outstretched hand and stood up, pulling him into a hug. When he let go, you both moved to clean up and get dressed.

Once you were both dressed and comfortable again, you pulled Soonyoung into a hug and asked, “Can we share a bed tonight?”

“Of course, baby. Which one?”

“I don’t think it matters,” you answered with a laugh.

Soonyoung smiled and led you to the bed furthest from the door, and you immediately snuggled into his side. The bed was small, so you had to lie down pretty much on top of him to avoid falling off, but neither of you really minded.

While Soonyoung held you close, the two of you talked about your interests and lives outside of work, with each of you hoping to get to know the other better. The conversation didn’t last very long though, since both of you fell asleep in a matter of minutes, surprised by the events of the day but happy to end it in each other’s arms.

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in between the room’s two beds. At some point during the night, you rolled over too far and fell out of Soonyoung’s bed, much to your frustration and his amusement when he woke up and realized what had happened. Once he stopped laughing, however, he helped you up and asked, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. I guess I fell out of bed while I was sleeping.”

“I noticed. You looked kind of cute on the floor,” he replied, starting to laugh again.

You pouted at his comment and said, “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m just laughing because of how adorable you are, sweetheart.”

You started to smile when he called you cute again and pulled him into a hug. With a groan of frustration, you said, “I really don’t want to participate in whatever Seungcheol has planned for today.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure I heard him mention trust falls when we were all in the lobby last night.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said, laughing at the cliché team building your boss apparently had planned.

“I wish I was. But I swear, I specifically heard him say the words ‘trust falls’ to Jeonghan.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dreading the event even more.

“Yeah, I’m not excited about it either. Look on the bright side, though. I’ll be right there with you the whole time, no matter how awkward and boring it gets.”

You smiled when you heard Soonyoung say that he’d be there with you, and without really thinking about it, you kissed him again. He deepened the kiss pretty much immediately, with his hands finding their way to your hair and pulling slightly. A soft moan left your lips, and he pulled away with a grin on his face before he said, “Later, baby.”

“That’s not fair! You started it!”

“Yes I did.”

You laughed at his boldness, and the two of you got ready together to face the day ahead. While you went about your morning routine, you occasionally noticed Soonyoung staring at you with a dopey grin on his face and something that you couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. The third time you caught him staring at you, you finally decided to just ask, “What are you looking at?”

“You. Why do you ask? Is it a problem?”

“No. I just wanna know what’s so interesting that I’ve caught you looking at me three different times now.”

“You are. Plus, you look really fucking sexy,” he replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but your soft laugh at his answer betrayed your attempt at looking annoyed.

After your little exchange, you went back to getting ready, and when it was time to leave, you and Soonyoung left together to go to the convention center near your hotel. When you got there, several of your coworkers stared at the two of you, clearly perplexed as to how you two were interacting without an argument.

When you ran into Mingyu, he gave you a knowing smile and asked, “So, how was your night?”

“It was pretty good,” you admitted, looking at Soonyoung as you spoke. “Turns out we have more in common than we thought.”

“See?” Mingyu asked. “I told you to trust me.”

Before Soonyoung could ask what Mingyu meant, Wonwoo arrived and said, “So, (Y/N), I see you had an interesting night.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment and said, “Shut up.”

“Shit, we have to go!” Mingyu groaned. “Do you remember where Seungcheol we were doing the things?”

“No, I don’t,” you answered.

“I do,” Soonyoung said. “Follow me.”

You followed Soonyoung down one of the convention center’s many hallways until you stood in front of a door that was labeled, “Carat Interactive Team Building.” When you entered the room, you noticed a very large stage, complete with a microphone and a banner above it that said, “Trust Falls.” That was when you realized that Soonyoung really wasn’t kidding about what he’d overheard the night before, and you stifled a laugh. You didn’t find the situation funny anymore, however, when your boss took his place in front of the microphone with a look of what could only be described as rage on his face. With a deep sigh, he began, “Welcome to day one of the Carat Interactive team building retreat. We’re here today so that you all can build stronger bonds with your teammates and hopefully learn something new about what it really means to work together and trust each other.”

Soonyoung snickered at Seungcheol’s introduction and said, “We wouldn’t need to learn how to work together if you were better at coordinating.”

“What was that, Soonyoung?” Seungcheol asked, clearly tired of your coworker’s bullshit.

“I said that we wouldn’t need to learn how to work together if you were better at coordinating,” Soonyoung repeated loudly, unfazed by Seungcheol’s anger.

Seungcheol sighed again before he smiled and said, “You know what, thank you, Soonyoung. Thank you so much for volunteering to start our first activity of the day.”

“Hey, I didn’t-” Soonyoung began.

“I don’t care!” Seungcheol exclaimed, his previous rage replaced with unsettling excitement. “Our first team building exercise is trust falls. Each of you will take turns coming up onto this stage and sharing something about yourself that you’ve never told the rest of the team. After you share, you will turn so that your back is facing your teammates and fall backward, trusting your teammates to catch you. Is that clear?” After a series of vague expressions of affirmation and nods from your coworkers, your boss added, “Come on up, Soonyoung! Thank you so much for agreeing to go first.”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung joined Seungcheol on stage and asked, “Why are we doing this?”

“I just told you why. Now, share something that your teammates don’t know about you!” Seungcheol replied, the unsettling excitement in his voice making him sound like a game show host that had been possessed by a demon.

Seungcheol stepped out of the way, and with a sigh, Soonyoung stepped closer to the microphone as you and the rest of your coworkers stepped closer to the stage to catch him. After another deep breath, he said, “I really don’t want to be here right now,” his solemn demeanor making it seem like he was sharing his darkest secret with the group instead of just being a smartass.

You laughed at his “admission,” which earned you a glare from Seungcheol. He didn’t say anything, though, which was a huge relief.

As everyone else on your team took turns sharing secrets and falling, you realized that Seungcheol had intentionally picked you last. You should have been upset, but all you could think about was how grateful you were that you got to put off your part of the exercise for as long as possible.

When Seungcheol called your name, you made your way onto the stage, and he said, “What would you like to share with your teammates today?”

With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you said, “I worry too much about what other people think, and sometimes I think that no one actually likes me.”

You stepped forward, turned your back to your coworkers, and fell, hoping that someone would actually catch you. After you fell, you felt several sets of arms holding you above the ground. When your feet were back on the floor, you turned and realized that Soonyoung was one of the people that caught you. With the same smirk on his face that he had at the bar, he said, “I mean, I had a feeling that you would fall for me after last night, but this seems a bit excessive.”

You laughed at his comment and said, “Thank you.”

With all of the trust falls complete, Seungcheol dismissed you all from the auditorium by saying, “That’s all we had planned for today. Enjoy the rest of your day, everyone, but don’t do anything stupid. I’m looking at you, Soonyoung.”

The man in question laughed and reached his hand out to grab yours. You smiled at the small gesture, and he said, “So, what do you wanna do now?”

“I think I’d like to just go back to the room, if that’s ok.”

“Of course, baby.”

You and Soonyoung made your way back to the hotel room, and when you got there, you collapsed on your bed and sighed. Soonyoung laughed a bit at your actions, and you asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. You’re just so cute.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Hmmm, no thanks,” he responded with a laugh. You laughed along with him, and he took a seat on his bed. Once the laughter turned to silence, however, his demeanor grew serious, and he asked, “You know that I really do like you, right?”

“What?”

“I’m talking about what you said during the trust falls. You know that I really do like you, right?”

“Oh. Well, I guess I do now.”

“I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft smile.

There was another silence before Soonyoung asked, “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Can we just talk?”

“Yeah, of course. Getting to know you better has been really nice.”

With that, the two of you talked about anything and everything that came to mind until it got too late for either of you to keep your eyes open. That was when you both went to sleep, each of you in your separate beds this time. You briefly considered asking if you could share a bed with Soonyoung again, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or wake up on the floor again, so you decided against it.

The rest of the week went by with no other major events, and you couldn’t wait to finally go home after being stuck in an unfamiliar city with your coworkers for a week. The drive home was far more peaceful than you expected, with significantly less traffic than when you’d driven to the hotel at the start of the week. When you finally got home, the first thing you did was text Soonyoung.

Y/N: Hi. Just wanted to say I had a lot of fun with you this week.

Soonyoung: I had fun too. Any time you wanna hang out, just let me know.

Y/N: I will, thanks. See you at work tomorrow.

Soonyoung: See you tomorrow.

After that, you decided to enjoy the rest of your day by ordering a pizza from the restaurant near your apartment and watching your favorite movie for the thousandth time while you ate it. The time to just exist in your apartment and not worry about expectations from your boss or what your coworkers thought of you was badly needed, and at the end of the day, you went to bed feeling much better about the mandatory fun your boss had spent the past week subjecting you to.

When you went back to work the following Monday, you noticed that everyone in the office was far nicer to you than usual, except for Soonyoung. He wasn’t exactly rude to you, but he also didn’t talk to you nearly as much as he had when the two of you were away. You didn’t worry too much, though, assuming that he was just tired from the trip and wanted a bit of space.

After a few weeks of Soonyoung not talking to you unless it was absolutely necessary, however, you started to worry. Had you said or done something to upset him at some point while you were at the retreat? You had no idea, so you decided to try again to talk to him whenever you could get him alone.

The opportunity to ask Soonyoung what the hell was going on came when you least expected it. You’d gone into the office break room and noticed that he was the only person there. He saw you at the same time that you saw him, and he tried to leave the room. Before he could, though, you stood in front of the door and asked, “Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered, clearly uncomfortable.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you answered, sick of his shit already. “Since we got home, you’ve refused to talk to me unless you absolutely have to. Why?”

With a sigh, Soonyoung said, “I just got nervous around you after the stuff that happened during the retreat. Can I make it up to you?”

“How?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby,” he answered, with that god damn smirk forming on his face as he spoke. Honestly, it probably shouldn’t have had the effect on you that it did, especially when you considered how upset you were that he’d been avoiding you. When you looked into his eyes, however, you didn’t care that he’d upset you. All you could think about was how badly you wanted him.

So, you turned away from Soonyoung just long enough to lock the door before turning back to him and kissing him with everything you had. The intensity almost knocked him over, but he stood firm as he wrapped his arms around you. You moaned softly into the kiss, and Soonyoung pulled away just long enough to say, “Just tell me what you want, baby, and it’s yours.”

“Want you.”

“I kind of figured as much,” he teased. “Do you want my mouth, my fingers, or my cock, princess?”

“Fingers, please?”

“Your wish is my command, my darling,” he said as he shifted your panties to the side and gently inserted two fingers into you. You cried out at the feeling, moving your hips ever so slightly as he fucked you.

With another loud whine, you said, “Feels so good.”

“I know, baby. I love how much of a mess you are for me.”

His words made your head spin, and you started to buck your hips up to meet his hand again. With every movement, you felt yourself already heading toward your release. This time, you were slightly embarrassed, but your arousal overruled any judgement or embarrassment as you lost yourself in the way Soonyoung’s fingers felt inside of you.

“I’m close,” you said, desperate to reach your high.

Once he processed what you said, Soonyoung started to lightly kiss your neck, and his mouth on you was the exact push that you needed to go tumbling over the edge. He continued to gently fuck you through your release until you started to push his hand away, overwhelmed by the continued stimulation.

Once you came down from your high, you leaned closer to Soonyoung to kiss him, but he moved at the last second, sending you tumbling to the floor. After you caught your breath, you stood up and asked, “What the fuck?”

Soonyoung didn’t answer, though, because he was too busy unlocking the door and running out of the room, since you were no longer blocking him. Once you realized that he’d left, and you were alone in the break room, you started to sob uncontrollably, wondering what you’d done wrong for him to treat you like you were nothing to him unless he was fucking you.

Once you calmed down, you stood up, brushed yourself off, and walked out of the break room to go back to the work you’d left unfinished. When you got back to your desk, Wonwoo approached you and asked, “Are you ok? Mingyu said he heard sobs coming from the break room.”

The question almost made you cry again, but you managed to maintain your composure long enough to choke out, “I’m fine. It’s a long story. Can I tell you later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“That what friends are for,” he said with a smile.

Wonwoo walked away after that, and you went back to your work. For the most part, you didn’t have any additional problems, which you appreciated. The only real issue was the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Soonyoung. Why had he been so cold toward you after what happened in the break room? You had no idea, so you tried to the best of your ability to not think about it. All of your thoughts were on Soonyoung once again, however, when he sent you a text after work.

Soonyoung: I’m sorry I left as quickly as I did. Seungcheol texted me to tell me to get back to work, and I panicked.

Y/N: Are you fucking serious? You couldn’t have said something before you left the room?

After that, you didn’t get a reply, so you decided to try again to avoid thinking about Soonyoung. Just like every other time you’d tried to purge unwanted thoughts from your head, however, thoughts of him and what he wanted from you plagued pretty much every waking moment. After weeks of struggling with what to do, you decided to go to the man that started it all for advice.

When you showed up at Mingyu’s apartment unannounced, your friend was surprised, to say the least. Regardless, he happily let you into his apartment and asked, “What’s up?”

“We need to talk about Soonyoung.”

“What do you mean?

“He won’t talk to me unless he wants to fuck.”

“That doesn’t sound like Soonyoung. He’s an idiot, sure, but he’s not an asshole.” To prove your point, you showed Mingyu your messaging history with Soonyoung. He was surprised to say the least, but he didn’t try to argue anymore. All he said was, “I’m so sorry. If I’d known he’d act that way, I would never have set you two up.”

“I’m not here for an apology. I’m here for advice. I want to ignore the way I feel about him, but I just can’t anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘the way you feel about him?’”

You sighed and answered, “I think I want an actual relationship with him.”

Mingyu was shocked by your admission, but once he got over that, he said, “I think you should tell him that.”

“’Gyu, I love you, but are you crazy?”

“Please, just trust me on this.”

“Trusting you is what got me into this situation in the first place!”

“And trusting me is what’s going to get you out of it. I know Soonyoung. If you tell him, he’ll realize that he’s been acting like an idiot and fix things.”

With a sigh, you reluctantly said, “Ok. Thanks for the advice.”

“It’s no problem. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

With that, you pulled Mingyu into a hug, hoping that he was right about Soonyoung. As you left his apartment, you contemplated when you wanted to talk to him. After some careful consideration, you knew exactly when and how you wanted to confront him.

In the end, you decided that Valentine’s Day was the perfect time to go to Soonyoung’s apartment and confront him. You didn’t initially want the discussion to happen on the holiday, but when you realized that it was the next time you would be free, you knew that you had the perfect opportunity to solve the Soonyoung problem once and for all. Either he would confess that he wanted more, which was perfect for the holiday of love, or he would tell you he never wanted to see you again, which would be a perfect example of dark irony. Regardless of the outcome, you figured that there was no better time to get the answers that you so desperately wanted.

You knocked on Soonyoung’s door, and it took some time for him to answer it. When he opened the door and saw you standing in front of him, he tried to close the door. Before he could fully shut it, however, you yelled, “Can we talk, please?”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung opened the door again and asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanna know why you only talk to me when you’re horny.”

“What? What the fuck do you-”

“Every time you’ve called or texted me since we’ve been home from that stupid retreat that Seungcheol put together, it’s been because you wanted sex. I want to know why you think so little of me that you think that’s ok.”

“I don’t think that little of you.”

“Then why the fuck do you do it?”

With a deep sigh, he answered, “Just come inside, and we’ll talk.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, and he moved out of the doorway to let you in. Once you were in his apartment, he led you to his couch. As you sat down, you asked, “Why did we have to talk here?”

With a deep sigh, Soonyoung said, “So I could do this,” and kissed you.

You started to melt into the kiss, just like you always did when you were with him, but it only took a minute for you to snap out of it, pull away, and say, “I’m not having sex with you today, Soonyoung.”

“I know.”

You were quiet after that, confused by the way he was acting and irritated that you let the situation get as far as it did. After a few minutes lost in your thoughts, you said, “Just tell me what you want. If you just want someone to have sex with, tell me. If you want a relationship, tell me. Either way, I’ll be ok. I just can’t stand the games.”

It was in that moment that Soonyoung realized that he fucked up. With another deep sigh, he said, “I want a relationship with you. I’m sorry that I ever made you think otherwise. Can you forgive me?”

You softened when you noticed the tears forming in his eyes, and against your better judgement, you said, “Of course.”

Soonyoung smiled and pulled you into a hug after that, relieved that he hadn’t lost you completely. While he held you close, he said, “Does this mean what I think it means?” You nodded against him, and he let go of you just long enough to cup your face in his hands and say, “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“Thank you for finally giving me a straight answer about what I am to you.”

With that same smirk on his face, he asked, “So, baby, how do you want to celebrate our first Valentine’s Day together?”

“I’m happy to celebrate however you want. As long as we’re spending time together, I’m fine with anything. I still don’t want to have sex tonight, though.”

“That’s perfectly fine, princess. I’m sorry about how I treated you. You must think I’m an idiot, huh?”

“Just a little, but you’re my idiot.”

With that, you relaxed into Soonyoung’s hold, content with the way your conversation went. You weren’t entirely sure that you trusted him yet, but you still wanted to give him a chance. After all, you liked the way that he made you feel now that you weren’t angry anymore.

Thank you for reading! I loved participating in this event. Once again, thank you to @ddeonghwa-s for the opportunity to participate! If you liked this, please like and reblog! If you wanna be tagged in future works, fill out the taglist form here! If you want to check out my other works, check out my main masterlist. If you want to see what else is in the works, you can check my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you want to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, have a lovely Valentine's Day!

[taylorklosscomeout138]

I HAVE FULL CHILLS.

(Performance art explained!!!)

Everything Taylor has been doing since the release of the I Can See You MV which premiered in Kansas City just ONE day before Travis attended Eras Tour for the first time has all been in reference to the plot of "Valentine's Day" - a movie she starred in with Taylor Lautner, who was also in the I Can See You MV.

The film released in 2010, Speak Now era, and the I Can See You MV reveals that the Taylor from this film has been locked away ever since. In "Valentine's Day", Taylor's character notably has a big 13 written on her hand, just like the Taylor in the vault.

We missed all of the signs and never put the pieces together but it was never just a MV. Speak Now Taylor was broken out for the purpose of fulfilling 1 last acting role, an acting role she was already familiar with, the role she played in "Valentine's Day" with Taylor Lautner.

In the film, Taylor has an athlete boyfriend, played by Taylor Lautner, and the two of them are high school sweethearts. Hence, the intention behind So High School.

But here is where it becomes clear this is not just her own story she is trying to tell, because to break the blender, the singer needs the football player, Travis Kelce.

In "Valentine's Day" there is a subplot about a closeted gay professional football player that decides to publicily come out on national TV and retire to choose his male partner over his career.

(AND TRULY HEAR WHEN I SAY THIS BECAUSE I AM IN DISBELEF)

After the closeted football player comes out, he goes home to be with his lover who greets him with a GOLD ROSE.

No you were not crazy to think Ross Travis was soft launching him and Travis with this. That is EXACTLY what is happening here. This isn't an original plot, this is a live remake

Immediately after the Super Bowl, teammates of Travis already begun spreading that Travis may retire. Right on cue. Following the script to a T.

The evidence that Taylor has been publicily playing the role of "Valentine's Day" Speak Now Taylor since July 8th 2023 does not end there though.

Besides Taylor Lautner, SEVERAL other actors/actresses that starred in "Valentine's Day" attended the Eras Tour, which could be a coincidence until we look at when they did.

Jennifer Garner who played Julia in "Valentine's Day" attended the Eras Tour on, you guessed it, July 7th 2023 in Kansas City the day I Can See You MV premiered, 1 day before Travis attended.

Bradley Cooper who played the love interest of the closeted football player attended the Eras Tour WITH Travis Kelce on May 12th 2024, the 87th show. IMDB promoted this article which notably points out Travis being there and how Taylor and Bradley both starred in "Valentine's Day".

Ashton Kutcher who played the character Reed in "Valentine's Day" attended the Eras Tour on June 22nd 2024 while Travis was there, just 1 day before Travis was on stage taking up an acting role for the peformance of I Can Do It With a Broken Heart.

Anne Hathaway also attended 1 day after Travis did. Jessica Alba attended during Karlie's birthday shows in LA August 2023. Emma Roberts went to one of the first shows of the Tour. In which all of the following people played the major roles in "Valentine's Day".

We are still not done.

In the main scene of Taylor and her athlete boyfriend Taylor Lautner, Taylor's character is wearing PLAID, this is why Taylor has excessively been wearing plaid for the past 2 years to the point people started believing it was an album era clue. Nope, she has just been in character, and giving us so many signs to lead back to the film for so long.

And finally, in the ending scene for Taylor's character, she says goodbye to her athlete boyfriend and is seen in an ELEVATOR wearing a RED DRESS. The same color dress Taylor chose to wear to the Grammy's, the main event right before the Super Bowl. Where she wore a T chain that got everyone talking that it was for Travis, it was a farewell.

If you have been following, for the Super Bowl Taylor brought everything full circle with Bejeweled. From the Bejeweled MV release date to the Super Bowl, it was exactly 838 days. She filmed it August 3rd on Karlie's birthday. And the Haim sisters from the Bejeweled MV accompanied her at the game. She also bookended her first Chiefs football game attendance outfit by wearing the same one, except she Bejeweled the shorts. And then just as the prophecy foretold in Bejeweled, she ghosted, leaving the stadium early.

What else happened in Bejeweled though? The elevator scene. Which is EXACTLY how she chose to tease Speak Now TV. The album that gave us I Can See You. And the way she revealed this was by making Speak Now TV the 13th floor (refer back to 13 written on her hand in Valentine's Day)

I am just absolutely floored. This has all been here the whole time right in front of us and it is MASTERFUL planning. Down to the full circle moment that has been going viral with Taylor presenting the award to Beyoncè referring back to when Beyoncè presented to Taylor at the 2009 MTV Awards while Taylor was writing Speak Now. It was yet another clue that Taylor is currently playing the role of Speak Now Taylor from the Valentine's Day film, and she would have already been filming for the movie at this time.

I will not be recovering from this information I truly cannot believe that this is real

[inktopuck]

the secret of us | luke hughes social media au (pt.6)

pt. 5

yournamelastname

Liked by quinnswife, jackhughes and others

yournamelastname both fit into "he's cute i'll take him" category

quinnswife theo is a no no but luke's potty trained so... feel free

_quinnhughes yeah so he can stop crashing at ours all summer eating belly's cereals

l_hughes06 they SHARED them with me

yourfriend ahh i see you pulled the good old "i can't play billiards 🥺🥺" act

yourfriend2 and then crushed him

l_hughes06 hey! i went easy on her!

trevorzegras yeaaah you did

_quinnhughes get out

elblue6 i'm open to more babies 👀

jackhughes jesus christ mom might as well have your ear glued to their door

elblue6 i'm just saying i can babysit

l_hughes06 we do not need baby fever right now thank you

quinnswife yeah dukes...i think it's too late for that

l_hughes06

Liked by yournamelastname, elblue6 and others

l_hughes06 lake house summer gets better and better

jackhughes king of captions

dylanduke25 where are the hashtags my liege

edwards71 her >>>>>

l_hughes06 alright pipe down

edwards71 chill i'm not trying anything

edwards71 .... yet

l_hughes06 blocked

markestapa oh those curlssssss getting a girlfriend did you goooood

l_hughes06 not all of us glow down 😌

markestapa i take back every compliment i've ever given you

quinnswife y/n is so beyond stunning i've been staring at these for 20 minutes

_quinnhughes i can attest to it. i'm waiting for her phone to die so we can resume our day

yournamelastname i'm gonna smooch you

l_hughes06 we're NOT that kind of family

yournamelastname

Liked by elblue6, yourfriend2 and others

yournamelastname luke: do you wanna come to this work thing

me: will there be hot dogs

luke: i think so

me: count me in

curtislazar95 why are you talking to yourself you little weirdo

brettpesce22 hanging out with rusty a little bit too much

yournamelastname you see if luke did it it would be weird, but when i do it it's quirky and fun!

curtislazar95 flawless reasoning on your part

l_hughes06 i can't get a break can i

jackhughes aw i thought you wanted to come and see your fav brother in law

yournamelastname you and luke live together i see you every day i wish i saw less of you

jackhughes ouch???????????

trevorzegras sunglasses? at night???

yournamelastname it's called fashion look it up

l_hughes06

Liked by elblue6, _quinnhughes and others

l_hughes06 happy birthday beautiful

yournamelastname 2/3 i'm eating... could've been worse

_quinnhughes he has more pictures of you eating on his phone than of his own brothers... that counts for something

yournamelastname is he trying to send a message

l_hughes06 i just like watching you eat!

jackhughes what an odd thing to say

yourfriend you're so obsessed with her and boy i understand

elblue6 happy birthday @yournamelastname ❤️

trevorzegras ohhh how quirky she can read

yournamelastname yeah we can't all rely on being pretty and kinda good at doing tricks with a puck

trevorzegras awwww you think i'm pretty 🫶🏻

yournamelastname pretty annoying

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader there's no smut in this one just a sliiiight mention of it, this is just drama and angst because this chapter will tell a lot about their future relationship! contains mentions of anxiety too.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.5k words ]♡― i can't believe that so many people like gameboy, like, that's crazy! thanks for everyone's support. to those who ask to be added to the taglist, it warms my heart. if you want to talk about the story or anything else, i'm open to questions and conversation! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three]

You're scared of heights, that's vertigo You wanted lights, go see a show You ran away, that's touch and go You're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into two days, then three, then four. Before you even realized it, seeing him had become part of your routine, like breathing—natural, inevitable, and far too easy to justify.

Today, though, your mind was anywhere but on him. Mrs. Baek had scheduled a meeting, nothing more, nothing less. You and Hyunjin were goofing around, hands clasped as you twirled like a chaotic, offbeat version of Jack and Rose at a third-rate ballroom. Seungmin doubled over laughing, because of course he did. That was just your dynamic—ridiculous by nature, friends for life.

Then, everything stopped. A chorus of surprised gasps cut through the room, followed by an eruption of chatter that made your spinning halt. Confused, you glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—until you saw her. Mrs. Baek stood at the front, and next to her…

No. Absolutely not.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes landed on him. Standing there with his head tilted slightly downward, one hand gripping the opposite arm—ridiculously muscular, by the way—Bangchan looked unfairly good in a black T-shirt that was doing the bare minimum to cover anything.

Your gaze flickered to Hyunjin, then to Seungmin, silently demanding an explanation, but before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the haze of your disbelief.

“…which is why we now have a new student to take care of the sound design. Welcome, Bangchan.”

And then—anger.

The girls whispered like they’d just witnessed the famous idol in the world. Bangchan basked in the attention, grinning at them, then at the guys. And then, of course, his eyes found you. One brow lifted, pure challenge.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Sound design? Since when?” you weren’t really expecting an answer, but Hyunjin, ever the dependable sidekick, squeezed your shoulder and offered a half-smile.

“It’s kinda his and Jisung’s thing,” he said, arms crossed as he observed Bangchan effortlessly charm his way through the group. “Jisung’s drowning in work this semester, so I guess that’s why.”

Oh, how nice. How convenient. You couldn’t care less. It was one thing sneaking around with him in secret. It was another for him to invade your space. Your special space. And worse—acting like he belonged there.

As soon as the group began to break apart, you made your exit, feet moving fast. The last thing you needed was—

“Running away already?”

You stopped dead, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Spinning on your heel, you found Bangchan standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you shot back.

“Ouch.” he clutched his chest, faking a wince. “You look angry.”

“Oh, do I?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s because I am.”

Lucky for him, the corridor was empty—just the theater crew lingering in the distance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

“Gonna need you to be more specific.”

You inhaled sharply. “Seriously? Sound design? You don’t even like theater.”

He took a step closer, brows furrowing.

“How would you know? We’re not friends.” the way he said it was off—something about his tone made your stomach twist. But you ignored it. “And if you actually bothered to find out, you’d know that, shockingly, I do this for real.”

You hated being proven wrong. But you especially hated being proven wrong by Bangchan.

“Look,” you sighed, arms crossing. “I don’t know what your game is, okay? But just… don’t mess things up. I like them the way they are.”

Bangchan nodded, slow and deliberate. But something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like the reason why. Because the way you said it, like having him here without sex was some kind of inconvenience, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” his voice dropped an octave, sharp and cold. He met your gaze head-on, not an ounce of warmth left. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like a punch to the gut left hanging in the air, he was gone. No rush, no glance back—just the weight of his words lingering between you.

Things were a mess, and you needed to get a grip. Studying, focusing—doing something that wasn’t theater or… well, him. The last few days had blurred together, your attention split in ways you weren’t used to. And you hated it.

The library was too quiet, the kind of silence that crawled under your skin. Three art history books sat open in front of you, mocking your lack of focus. It was ridiculous. How the hell had you let some guy scramble your brain like this? That wasn’t you. It had never been you.

Frustration boiled over, and before you knew it, you snapped one of the books shut, the sharp thud cutting through the silence.

“Jesus. What did the book ever do to you?”

The voice came from behind you, smooth and amused. You barely looked up before Mingyu’s face came into view. It hit you then—how distracted you’d been at the fundraiser. Otherwise, you definitely would have noticed him before. That annoyingly charming, white-knight smile. Tanned skin. Muscles for days.

He grinned, leaning over your table, arms flexing just enough to be intentional.

“Sorry. My head's a mess.”

Mingyu nodded, taking in your exasperated, borderline fried expression. “Yeah, you look like it,” he said with a knowing half-smile, sliding into the empty chair across from you like he belonged there. No permission needed.

You sighed, gesturing vaguely at the books. “Just trying to focus.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. Because nothing says laser focus like slamming a textbook shut like it just insulted your mother.”

You huffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Well, since you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown, I have an idea.” He leaned back, stretching in a way that was both casual and strategic. “A coffee. On me.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your phone vibrated against the table, barely visible beneath the stack of books. A quick glance at the screen. One new message.

Bangchan: my dorm. 30 min.

Your pulse jumped. Short. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu’s voice pulled you back, his eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, yeah.” you laughed, maybe too lightly. “Just… distracted. Coffee sounds good.”

His grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Just let me put this back…” you grabbed one of the books, heading for the shelf when your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: ignoring me?

You exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen.

You: I can't. I have plans.

A pause. Then—

Bangchan: ok.

You pressed your forehead against the bookshelf, inhaling deeply, willing away the strange tightness in your stomach. It was ridiculous. It was just a text.

When you returned, Mingyu was still at the table, casually texting someone. He looked up as you approached, grinning. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, forcing a smile.

He was nice enough to grab your bag and help carry your notebooks, the easy charm of someone who had probably been effortlessly handsome his whole life. The café wasn’t far—just a short walk from campus—but the crowd made it feel like the busiest spot in town.

Mingyu picked a table near the entrance, the air thick with the smell of espresso and fresh pastries. Strawberry sponge cake. Cinnamon rolls. Chocolate mousse cupcakes. The kind of place that made you want to abandon all responsibilities and drown yourself in sugar.

And yet, as you sat down, all you could think about was the ok.

Mingyu ordered coffee for you both but went the extra mile, adding a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” you smiled, wrapping your hands around your cup, already feeling the caffeine seep into your system like a lifeline.

He shrugged. “I wanted to. You looked like you needed something sweet.”

You caught the double meaning but let it slide. He was being nice, and you weren’t in the mood to overanalyze. “Right. So… football?” Smooth. Real smooth.

Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. “Going well. We’re set for the next game, and if we keep this up, the next university sponsorship should be ours.”

“That’s great, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but I heard drama class was saved. Good news, huh?”

“Great news. We’ve got enough for now.” you took a bite of cake, letting the sugar melt on your tongue. Mingyu watched you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m happy for you. Getting the basketball team to sell brownies half-naked must’ve been a real passion project.”

You laughed. “It was, but that wasn’t me. That was Bangchan.”

It felt strange, saying his name out loud. Different when he wasn’t there.

Mingyu frowned, arms crossing over the table.

“Bangchan did that?” his brows knitted together, skepticism lacing his tone.

You shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “That’s what I heard. Why? You guys friends?” the idea alone made your stomach twist in an oddly unpleasant way.

“No. Not even close.” he laughed, shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. “Just curious.”

“Well, instead of wasting brain cells on him, you should try this.” you pushed the plate slightly toward him. “It’s actually amazing.”

Mingyu picked up a fork, took a bite, and let out an appreciative groan. You grinned, clapping your hands as if you had just won a bet, then promptly stole another piece for yourself.

Being with him was easy—effortless, even. A surprising friendship you hadn't expected but didn’t mind one bit.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee were curled up on the couch, sharing a bucket of popcorn while a movie played on the laptop. Your casual entrance was met with two pairs of curious eyes locking onto you like detectives sniffing out a case.

“Where have you been?” Eunji narrowed her eyes, her fingers pausing mid-popcorn grab.

“Why?” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accused, tilting her head. “Always busy, barely around.”

“Sorry, I... I've just been very busy. The theater is eating me up. And there's the exams...”

Sohee smirked. “Why do you smell like coffee?”

“What?” you instinctively sniffed your shirt, the rich aroma of espresso lingering faintly.

Eunji gasped, scandalized. “You totally went out with someone!”

Sohee just shook her head knowingly, already seeing through you. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine! I got coffee with Mingyu. Happy now?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sohee’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mingyu from the soccer team?”

Eunji, on the other hand, nearly leaped off the couch. “Girl, you rocked it! I knew you had game, but Mingyu? That man is fine.”

You groaned, already regretting your life choices. “It wasn’t a thing, okay? We’re friends. We had coffee. That’s it.”

Eunji scoffed, dramatic as ever. “Honey, nothing with Mingyu is just coffee. That man doesn’t do casual.” she clasped her hands together like she was already planning your wedding.

You sighed, exasperated. “Make her stop.” you turned to Sohee, your last hope. 

But Sohee just smirked. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God.”

“Look, you’ve been drowning in rehearsals and exams. Maybe this is a good thing,” Sohee added, ever the voice of reason.

A good thing. That uneasy feeling crawled up your spine again.

Because the problem wasn’t Mingyu.

Because you had met someone. Someone who already occupied every corner of your mind. Someone who texted you with demands instead of invitations. Someone who kissed like it was the only language he spoke.

And that someone sure as hell wasn’t Mingyu.

“Alright, I’m done.” you grabbed your things and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. Goodnight.”

Before they could say another word, you ducked into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Now, if only you could shut off your thoughts just as easily.

It was lunchtime, and the table was buzzing with chatter. It had been nearly two days since you’d heard from Bangchan. Odd, right? The silence felt almost intentional. No texts, no glances that said too much.

You were sharing a basket of French fries with Hyunjin when suddenly, that topic came up. Jisung was DJing at another party this weekend, and everyone was planning to go. Of course, Eunji—bless her heart and big mouth—decided now was the time to bring up the perfect subject.

“You should invite Mingyu, now that you’re going out and all.”

You nearly choked on a fry, coughing like you’d just inhaled a cloud of smoke. Hyunjin slapped your back, but you could feel all eyes on you as the table went silent, then turned to look in your direction.

Bangchan, seated across from you, slouched in his chair like he didn’t care. But you knew better. The tension radiating from him was like a ticking time bomb.

“You’re seeing Mingyu?” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with mock disbelief. “How am I your best friend, and this is news to me?”

Great. Just great. The whole table was waiting for an answer, and suddenly, everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control.

“Going out with Mingyu? Really?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I thought you had better taste, bro.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not dating anyone!” you shot back, finally managing to catch your breath after the shock of the conversation.

“Sure, sure. But you two went out the other day, didn’t you?” Eunji grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You felt it before you saw it: Bangchan’s eyes, burning into the side of your head. His silence wasn’t just a void, it was a warning, sharp and heavy. You should’ve felt guilty—after all, you had brushed him aside for Mingyu.

“But we’re not together,” you quickly clarified, hoping to quell whatever storm was brewing behind his eyes. “And he’s practically at every party anyway. It’s not like he’s not going to show up.”

Eunji wasn’t buying it. “Still should invite him, though.”

Hyunjin tossed an arm around your shoulders, all casual but still sorta protective. “Alright, stop messing with my girl,” he said, voice light but you could tell he wasn’t having it.

You muttered a quick ‘thank you,’ relieved when the focus shifted away from you. Your thoughts drifted as you nibbled on the end of your fry, mind half on your food, half on the tension buzzing at the table. 

Bangchan, though, wasn't as distracted. He sat there, twisting his tongue inside his cheek, fighting off the surge of frustration coiling in his gut. The thought of you with Mingyu? It hit him like a wrecking ball. Not just because you had ditched him for the guy, but Mingyu.

He could hardly keep his anger in check. Only his closest friends knew the history between the two of them—and no one, especially not you, would ever guess how deep that hatred ran.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a word, he stood, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

“Leaving already?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Lunch still had half an hour left, but Bangchan didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, gotta handle something,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make everyone shut up for a second.

The group barely noticed his departure. You certainly didn’t. After all, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Right?

The days were flying by, and with every one that passed, the auditions loomed closer. The lineup was finally set—each student would perform next Friday, the day before Jisung’s party. No pressure or anything. Your nerves were on high alert, and anxiety was practically gnawing at your bones.

And then there was Bangchan. Or rather, the lack of him. You hadn’t heard a word from him in days. During the rare times you actually sat with the guys for lunch, his seat was just... empty. And you pretended not to care, stealing quick glances and keeping your mouth shut.

Most of your free time was spent holed up in the library, pretending to study, or locked in your room, trying to convince yourself that, yes, you could totally make it through the semester without crumbling under stress. Mingyu had texted you a few times, but you’d dodged his messages so hard that even you felt guilty about it.

Not that he seemed to care. The guy was persistent. He still wanted to take you out, get to know you, charm his way into... whatever he was aiming for. Just today, he’d invited you to join him and the soccer team at some bar near campus. Apparently, they were celebrating a big win—not that you had a single clue who they even played against.

You needed to get out. Desperately. But showing up solo to a team hangout? That was a level of confidence even you didn’t have. So, naturally, you did what any sane person would—you called your emergency contact.

Hyunjin picked up before the second ring.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to return from the dead,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Roast me later. Right now, I need a favor.”

“Hm. Depends.”

“There’ll be drinks,” you baited, already knowing his answer.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I go, you have to give me the full rundown on whatever mess you’ve got going on with Mingyu.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back like the universe was punishing you. “Ugh. Deal.”

Satisfied, you threw on a black fit—strappy top, skirt, boots, plus a long-sleeved cardigan for balance—and grabbed your phone to text Hyunjin.

And that’s when you saw him.

Bangchan.

Walking toward his dorm, jacket slung over his shoulder, bag in one hand. The second he spotted you, it was like his brain hit a hard reset. Blue screen. No thoughts, just you.

You, on the other hand? You just…froze. Phone still hovering mid-air like you were trying to signal the mothership.

He looked good, annoyingly so—tired, sure, but with that effortlessly undone look that made you want to fix things that weren’t even broken. And judging by the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you looking this good either.

You could practically hear the battle happening in his head. Logic telling him to keep walking. Instinct screaming at him to drag you somewhere private and remind you exactly why you shouldn’t be ignoring him.

But no. Neither of you moved. Just standing there, locked in some ridiculous silent standoff from across the way.

That is, until a hand brushed against yours.

“Took you long enough,” Hyunjin teased, but his voice trailed off the second he noticed who had stolen your attention. His steps slowed, eyes flicking between you and Bangchan like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera.

You bit back a smirk, shoving down the weird twist in your stomach. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin hesitated, still piecing things together. Then, with a last glance at Bangchan—who looked like he was about two seconds away from saying something he’d regret—he sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, brows still furrowed. “Let’s go.”

The moment you step into the bar, Mingyu zeroes in on you like a man on a mission—half-drunk, half-thrilled, and entirely shameless about how his gaze drags over you. He grins, tells you how gorgeous you look, and hands you a shot of soju like it’s a requirement for entry.

Hyunjin, of course, fits right in immediately, the social butterfly that he is. Meanwhile, you start to relax, the initial nerves fading as the drinks flow and the unfamiliar space becomes less intimidating. Mingyu’s friends are nice—too nice. The kind of nice that feels like they're sizing you up, like you’re some kind of prize waiting to be claimed. Mingyu’s prize.

The room is loud, buzzing with alcohol-fueled laughter and drunken debates, but your thoughts are fixated on something else. Someone else. And damn it, Mingyu is right there, flashing that easy smile, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident every single time. Complimenting you in ways that should make your stomach flip.

But all you can think about is the guy who hasn’t spoken to you in days. The one who supposedly doesn’t want you anymore.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With a frustrated sigh, you push back your chair and stand. You’re not even tipsy, but everything suddenly feels too hot, too suffocating.

“I need water,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else, and head for the bar before you do something stupid.

Mingyu appeared at your side, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

"All good?"

You forced a smile, gripping the cool glass of water like it could ground you. "Yeah. Just needed something cold."

"Glad you came," he said, smirking slightly as he looked down at you.

He’s the one you should want, the one who actually wants you.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. A bad idea waiting to happen.

Mingyu caught the hesitation, eyes darkening as he glanced between your lips and your eyes. You barely had time to register what was happening before your hands found his shoulders, his lips pressing against yours.

The guys erupted in cheers, their drunken approval ringing out across the bar.

And after that, a blur of stolen kisses, too much soju, and voices too loud to ignore.

The night air was crisp against your flushed skin as you and Hyunjin walked back toward campus. The distant hum of the city buzzed in your ears, the alcohol still warm in your veins, though the high of the night had started to fade. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and Hyunjin, ever the gentleman, walked just a step closer in case you stumbled.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You hummed a response, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Your mind was a tangled mess of soju, Mingyu’s lips, and something deeper—something you weren’t ready to admit.

Hyunjin let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. Here it comes. “If it’s about Mingyu, I—”

“It’s not.” he cut you off, tone softer than before. “It’s about Bangchan.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stopped walking, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your hands fidgeted, grasping for something—anything—to ground you. “Why would you ask that?” you muttered, trying to play it off, but even you could hear the slight tremble in your voice.

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “I figured it all out.”

A sharp inhale stung your chest, and before you could even think of a response, it hit you. The overwhelming, suffocating weight of everything you’d been trying to bury. The frustration, the confusion, the way he made you feel like you were something and nothing all at once.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin muttered, eyes widening as the tears spilled over. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his chest, letting you press your face into his shoulder. You clung to his jacket, shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. Half-drunk, half-heartbroken, you let yourself break in the only safe place you had at that moment—Hyunjin’s arms.

“I don’t— I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” you mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t okay. None of it was.

After a few minutes, he gently pulled away and wordlessly handed you a bottle of water he’d bought from a vending machine nearby. You took it with shaky hands, gulping down the cool liquid as if it could wash away the lump in your throat.

As you wiped your eyes, Hyunjin leaned against the streetlamp, watching you carefully. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Bangchan?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I wish I knew.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally let it spill. “It started as something casual. No expectations.” your fingers tightened around the water bottle. “But then he started pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because he got bored, or if I did something wrong, or if this was always the plan. I don’t even know if I want more, but the fact that I’m this messed up over it?” you scoffed, blinking back fresh tears. “That has to mean something, right?”

Hyunjin exhaled, his gaze thoughtful. “Damn.”

You let out a wet laugh. “That’s all you got?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew that. You knew that. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for.

You swallowed hard, voice small. “I got myself into this mess. I was the one who asked him to keep it a secret.”

Hyunjin frowned, his posture shifting. “Why?”

“Because I was scared,” you admitted, the words raw in your throat. “Scared of what people would say. Scared of the judgment. You know how it is—girls get torn apart for way less. And I worked too hard, cared too much to be reduced to just that girl who’s hooking up with Bangchan.” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And now? Now I don’t even know how to deal with it. Because I was supposed to hate him, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your throat tightened. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’re just in deep.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth as you both started walking again.

“Look, I don’t have the answers. But I do know you’re not crazy for feeling this way.” he squeezed your shoulder. “And if he’s too much of an idiot to see what he has, then maybe you should let him be the one losing sleep over it.”

You sniffled, managing a weak smile. “You’re my soulmate, Hyun.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Now drink your water before you pass out, drama queen.”

You laughed—actually laughed—and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The day had finally arrived. Showtime. No matter how many times you’d done this, stepping on stage always felt like a first-time, heart-in-your-throat kind of thing.

Up in the audience, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Sohee were posted a few rows above Mrs. Baek, waiting for you to do your thing. No pressure.

Backstage was quiet—eerily so. You sat there, taking slow, deep breaths, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs like a seasoned pro in pre-show anxiety management. You were next. Three minutes. One shot. No room for mediocrity.

You’d chosen a song that wasn’t just sentimental—it was a statement. A vocal rollercoaster that climbed from deep, rich lows to a falsetto so clean it could cut glass. If you were going to go down, at least you’d do it swinging.

Reaching into your bag for your water bottle, you were mid-sip when movement in the distance caught your attention.

And just like that, reality glitched. Bangchan.

It was almost ridiculous how unreal he looked, like a mirage conjured from some fever dream. You hadn’t seen him in days, and yet here he was, strolling in like he hadn’t been living rent-free in your mind this whole damn time.

Laptop in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard, looking every bit the sound tech genius he was. You hadn’t expected him to actually show up for this gig, but—oh, look—there he was, punching buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

Then, he saw you. And something shifted.

His fingers stilled, tightening around the laptop.

The air was heavy. The tension was palpable. Whatever was going on between you two didn’t need words—it was written in every sharp breath, every stolen glance.

And just like that, your pre-show jitters had a new contender.

"Hi," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Bangchan gave you a small, polite smile—too polite. Something about it felt off. The usual spark in his eyes? Gone. And that was all it took for reality to sink in.

So that’s it, huh?

The game was over. You had your answer. He was done, and honestly? You couldn’t even be mad—because weren’t you just as much to blame?

Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head, thanking the student who had just finished performing. You’re next.

You turned away from Bangchan, unscrewed your water bottle, and took a long sip, willing yourself to focus. Breathe. Lock in. You’ve got this.

Then it happened. A warm touch on your waist—his touch.

Your body betrayed you instantly, heat rippling through your skin like a live wire. It had been days, and yet, all it took was this—a single touch—to remind you how much you’d missed him.

You spun around, frowning, swallowing hard as your gaze locked onto his.

Bangchan didn’t back down. If anything, he doubled down.

His arm lifted, caging you in the small space between you and the backstage wall, pulling your bodies so close it was downright insane. His head tilted slightly, studying you, reading every little reaction like he already knew the ending to this story.

Without warning, Bangchan crashed his lips onto yours, his free hand gripping your waist like he had no plans of letting go. His palm slid up your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt, branding heat into your skin.

You barely had time to process before his tongue was in your mouth, claiming, demanding—like he was making up for every second of distance between you.

A sound slipped past your lips—a mix between a sigh and a moan, involuntary, unstoppable.

God, you hated how easily he unraveled you. And worse? You loved it too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, yanking him closer—like you needed him just a little closer, just a little longer. Your lips moved in sync, deepening the moment, drowning out everything else.

Then—

Mrs. Baek’s voice rang through the backstage, shouting your name.

Then reality crashed back in.

But instead of nerves clawing at your stomach, instead of the suffocating pressure you’d felt moments ago, there was something lighter—something electric. Like a field of wildflowers blooming where anxiety used to sit.

You pulled back, panting, heart racing, but this time? You were smiling. Bangchan, just as breathless, leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Break a leg," he murmured.

And just like that, you knew you would.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely

[hrizantemy]

Feyre’s voice shook the walls of the House of Wind as she let her rage spill free.

“It was supposed to be us! Nesta, Elain, and me!” she shouted, her chest heaving, her hands fisted at her sides as she glared at them all—her Inner Circle. The people she trusted, the people she loved. But right now, she felt nothing but fury toward them. “Do you understand what you just did? Do you even see it? You tore into her. You all stood there, watching, saying nothing as Amren ripped her apart. And then Taryn—” Feyre let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “A stranger defended my sister when none of us did. When I didn’t. Do you have any idea how wrong that is? How disgusting that is?”

Her voice cracked on the last words, but she didn’t stop, didn’t care.

Rhysand exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tight as he finally spoke, his voice the controlled, reasonable tone he always used when trying to calm her.

“Feyre—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting him off, her rage turning toward him. “Don’t stand there and try to explain this to me, Rhys. Don’t act like you had no part in it. You stood there and let it happen. You let Amren shame her, humiliate her, like she was nothing more than a stain on this court. Like she hadn’t fought, like she hadn’t bled for all of us!”

Rhysand’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t let his composure slip. “She needed to hear it,” he said, calm, as if he truly believed it. “Nesta has spent the last year destroying herself, and we have done everything to try and help her. She refused it. We had no choice—”

“No choice?” Feyre’s voice rose again, incredulous. “You always have a choice, Rhys. Always. And what you chose was cruelty. What you chose was to let Amren belittle her, let everyone sit in their silence while Taryn—TARYN—was the only one to stand up for her.”

She turned her furious gaze to Amren, who had remained quiet, her face unreadable. “And you—what the hell was that? You didn’t try to help. You didn’t try to fix anything. You just wanted to break her down, just like you did before. Just like you always do when someone isn’t what you want them to be.”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed. “I told her the truth.”

“No, you shamed her,” Feyre snapped. “You humiliated her. And the worst part is that you all let it happen. You all let her drown in it. Again.”

She turned to Cassian now, who hadn’t spoken once, his wings tucked tight, his expression unreadable.

“And you,” she breathed, the betrayal sharp in her voice. “You just stood there. You, out of everyone, should have said something. Should have done something.”

Cassian’s throat bobbed, but he said nothing.

Feyre let out a shaky breath, looking at all of them, her closest friends, her family. And for the first time in a long, long time, she didn’t recognize them.

“Look what you did,” she whispered. “Look what you all did.”

Morrigan shifted where she stood, arms crossed over her chest, her golden eyes flicking between them before finally landing on Feyre. Her voice was measured, careful, but there was a sharpness to it that Feyre immediately bristled at.

“Taryn doesn’t know what Nesta did to you,” Morrigan said, her tone low but firm. “She doesn’t know how Nesta treated you, how she—”

“Don’t,” Feyre snapped, cutting her off so abruptly that Morrigan blinked in surprise. “Don’t you dare bring that up right now.”

The heat of her anger reignited, searing through her veins as she turned on Morrigan fully. “Nesta was cruel to me. I know that. I lived it. I am not pretending otherwise. But you—all of you—are pretending that your behavior tonight was justified. That shaming her, belittling her, proving to her once again that she has no place here was somehow the right thing to do.”

She shook her head, letting out a breathless, bitter laugh. “And the fact that Taryn doesn’t know what happened between me and Nesta? Maybe that’s a good thing. Because for once, someone looked at Nesta and didn’t see her as the villain you’ve all made her out to be. Someone saw her, not just her mistakes.”

Morrigan’s expression tightened, as if she wanted to argue, but Feyre wasn’t done.

“Nesta tried to hurt me. She lashed out at me in ways I’ll never forget, and I won’t excuse that.” Feyre’s voice was shaking now, but she refused to back down. “But I am standing here, Morrigan. I survived it. I moved on. And if I can do that, why the hell can’t any of you?”

Amren exhaled sharply, her silver eyes narrowing as she finally stepped forward, her expression unreadable.

“Then why don’t you stop them?”

Feyre’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

Amren tilted her head slightly, watching her with a gaze so sharp it felt like it cut right through her. “You act like you’re separate from this, like you weren’t part of it. But you were. Every time someone said something about Nesta, every time we tore into her, you were the one who told us what she was like before we even met her. You were the one who made sure we knew every cruel thing she ever said to you. And each time we said something about her, what did you do?”

Amren let the silence settle, let the weight of her words sink in before delivering the final blow.

“Nothing.”

Feyre’s lips parted, but Amren kept going, her voice steady, unrelenting.

“If you did say something, it was half-hearted at best. You never truly defended her, not really. And don’t pretend you did. Because if you had, we wouldn’t have spoken about her the way we did tonight. We wouldn’t have seen her as nothing more than a disgrace to this court. We wouldn’t have thought of her as someone who deserved to be punished.”

A long, heavy pause.

“And isn’t that what you wanted, Feyre?” Amren asked, her voice softer now, but no less damning. “For her to be punished? To feel what you felt? To pay for what she did to you?”

Feyre’s throat was dry.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to deny it, to fight back, as proof that she wasn’t wrong. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because for the first time, Feyre didn’t know what to say.

She had no words.

Rhysand’s power darkened the room, his rage curling around them like a storm ready to break. His growl was low, dangerous, a warning that echoed through the tense silence.

“You will not speak to your High Lady like that,” he snarled, his voice laced with authority, violet eyes burning as he fixed Amren with a look that would have made most people tremble.

But Amren was not most people.

She merely scoffed, rolling her eyes as if he were nothing more than an impatient child. “Oh, spare me the dramatics, Rhysand,” she said, utterly unimpressed by his display of power. “You think your title scares me? That I should bow and scrape because she wears a crown? I was drinking the blood of worlds before you were even born—I don’t give a damn what you call yourself.”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but Amren only continued, voice dry with amusement. “You don’t like the truth, fine. But don’t act like I said anything you don’t already know.”

She turned back to Feyre then, silver eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’ve spent all this time pretending you wanted to help her. But deep down? You wanted to see her suffer. You wanted her to feel as alone as she made you feel. And you let us do the dirty work for you.”

Feyre flinched.

Rhysand stepped closer, his power crackling in the air, but Amren didn’t so much as blink. “You can growl all you want, High Lord,” she said, voice laced with sharp amusement. “But we both know I’m right.”

The room was still tense, thick with everything that had been said, everything that still wasn’t being said. And then, a small voice broke through the silence.

“It was my fault.”

Elain’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the heavy stillness of the room, it was deafening.

Everyone turned to her. She stood near the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than ever. She swallowed, her brown eyes flickering to Feyre before dropping to the floor.

“I was the one who told Nesta about the plan,” she admitted, her voice barely steady. “I— I didn’t mean to, I just—” She took a shaky breath. “I was angry. And I told her. And now—”

She trailed off, shaking her head, as if trying to process everything all over again.

Feyre’s throat tightened. “Elain—no,” she said immediately, shaking her head, stepping forward. “It’s not your fault.”

Something in Elain’s shoulders loosened, and she let out a small breath, as if she had been waiting for Feyre to say those exact words.

But before the moment could settle, Amren let out a sharp, unamused snort.

“Of course it’s your fault,” Amren said flatly, silver eyes gleaming as she crossed her arms. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and now here we are.”

Elain’s face flushed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, but she didn’t argue.

Feyre turned sharply toward Amren, her anger reigniting. “Enough,” she snapped.

But Amren only raised a brow. “Why? Because you don’t want to admit that she did exactly what you didn’t want her to do? That she let Nesta in on the little secret you all kept from her?”

Feyre clenched her jaw, but Amren just let out another scoff.

“None of us are innocent here,” Amren said coolly, looking around at them all. “Not you, not me, not Elain. Not a single damn one of us.”

Cassian finally stepped forward, his broad frame tense, wings tucked tightly against his back. His hazel eyes burned with frustration, but there was something else there too—something pleading.

“It was to help her,” he said, his voice firm, yet softer than it had been all night. “She’ll understand that, Feyre. Eventually, she’ll see that we did what we had to do.”

Feyre turned to him, something like disbelief flashing across her face.

“No, she won’t,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “She won’t understand, Cassian.”

Cassian’s jaw clenched, but Feyre didn’t stop.

“Nesta doesn’t see it that way. She never has. She won’t look at what we did and think, ‘Oh, they were just trying to help me.’ She’ll see it as exactly what it was—a punishment. A choice that was made for her, not with her. A way to control her, to make her into something we were all more comfortable with.”

Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed on. “And after tonight, after what you all just did, do you really think she’ll ever look back on this and believe it was done out of love?”

Cassian’s hands curled into fists, but he had no response. Because he knew—deep down, he knew—that Feyre was right.

Morrigan exhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall. Her golden eyes flicked to Feyre, then to Cassian, and finally, she let out a scoff.

“Good riddance, then.”

The words were casual, dismissive, but they sliced through the already-tense room like a blade.

Feyre’s head snapped toward her, disbelief flashing across her face. “What?”

Morrigan shrugged, her expression impassive. “She’s made her choice. She never wanted to be here anyway. She’s spent the last year making it clear that she wants nothing to do with us, with this court, with you. So fine. Let her go.”

Cassian stiffened, his wings flaring slightly, but he said nothing. Amren merely arched a brow, as if she weren’t surprised by Morrigan’s response.

“You all act like we forced her into misery,” Morrigan continued, her tone sharpening. “Like we held her down and made her suffer. But Nesta was already suffering. We tried. Over and over again, we tried. And she spat in our faces every single time. So if she wants to run off with that girl—if she wants to leave this court—good. She’s not our problem anymore.”

Feyre stared at her, her breath coming short. “How can you say that?”

Morrigan raised a brow. “Because it’s the truth. And I’m sick of pretending otherwise.”

Her words left a chilling silence in their wake, one that settled into the cracks already forming between them. And this time, no one rushed to fill it.

Morrigan shrugged, entirely unbothered by the weight of the silence pressing down on the room. Her golden eyes flicked between them all before she let out a dry laugh.

“Am I wrong?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. “She healed herself, didn’t she? She got better without us. She obviously wants nothing to do with Cassian—I mean, she’s already found herself a new lover, someone who’s more than just a warm bed to her.”

Cassian flinched, just barely, but it was enough.

Morrigan turned toward him now, her sharp gaze locking onto him. “And yet here we are, still talking about her like she’s our responsibility. Like she’s still our problem. But she made her choice, Cassian. She’s done with you. And you’re just sitting here, waiting for what? For her to change her mind?”

Cassian’s jaw clenched, but Morrigan wasn’t finished.

“She’s rotten, Cassian,” Morrigan went on, her voice turning sharper, crueler. “What she’s doing to you—leading you on, using you when it’s convenient, discarding you when she’s had enough—it’s disgusting. And you’re just letting her.”

Cassian finally moved, his wings flaring slightly as he turned to glare at her. “That’s enough, Mor.”

“Is it?” she challenged, tilting her head. “Because I think someone needed to say it. Nesta Archeron takes and takes, and when she’s done, she walks away like none of it ever mattered. And she just did it again.”

Feyre’s breathing was ragged now, her hands shaking at her sides, but Morrigan didn’t seem to care.

“So why are we still standing here pretending like she deserves our sympathy?” Morrigan finished, her voice ringing through the room, leaving behind a silence that felt far too final.

Feyre’s hands were shaking now, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The fury, the disbelief, the exhaustion of it all was pressing down on her, suffocating her.

“I invited her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly before she forced herself to steady it. “I was trying to mend my relationship with her. I wanted her here, I wanted to talk to her—to try to fix this.”

She turned sharply on Rhysand now, her rage burning anew.

“And you—” she practically seethed, “you didn’t even tell me they were going to be here.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes darkened, but he didn’t flinch. “It was a precaution,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just shattered what little control Feyre had left. “Nesta isn’t stable—”

“Do you really think Nesta would hurt me?” Feyre cut him off, her voice rising, her face twisting with something raw, something wounded.

Rhysand exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I think Nesta is unpredictable. I think her temper is volatile, and I won’t take any chances when it comes to you—”

“She’s my sister,” Feyre snapped, “not some rabid animal you need to monitor!”

Rhysand didn’t say anything, just looked at her, and the answer was written all over his face.

And it broke something in her.

“You don’t trust her,” Feyre whispered, the weight of it settling in her chest. “You don’t trust her, and you never have.”

Rhysand’s silence was all the confirmation she needed.

Feyre’s breath came fast, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at Rhysand, at all of them. At the people who claimed they tried with Nesta, who claimed they wanted her to be better, to be part of this family.

But then she thought about it—really thought about it.

Nesta had a life now. A real life. She had a job, a home, a purpose. She was stable enough that she had even paid them back every copper mark of the money she had taken, had forced it into Feyre’s hands despite her protests. She came to Solstice when asked, she showed up when she didn’t have to.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for them.

“She’s happy,” Feyre breathed, realization slamming into her like a punch to the ribs. “She has a life, a job, she even paid us back for the drinking. She comes to Solstice when I ask her to. What more do you want from her?”

No one answered.

Feyre let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “She’s not perfect, but she’s trying. She’s open, she’s—” Her voice wavered, and she had to swallow hard before continuing. “She brought someone she loved around us, and what did we do?”

She looked at all of them, at the silence, at the shame flickering over Cassian’s face, at Morrigan’s crossed arms, at Amren’s cool, unwavering stare, at Rhysand’s carefully measured expression.

“We ruined it,” Feyre said, her voice breaking now. “We ruined everything.”

Even Elain, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation, began to fiddle with her dress, her fingers twisting in the fabric, her lips pressed together like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how. She kept her eyes down, refusing to meet Feyre’s gaze.

Feyre exhaled sharply, her hands shaking at her sides, but she didn’t let herself stop. She couldn’t stop.

“I wanted her to be part of this family,” she said, her voice raw with the weight of it all. “I wanted my sister here. And that’s what she is—Nesta is my sister.”

She turned to look at them, at each of them, her anger barely contained, but underneath it was something deeper, something far more painful.

“The same sister who fought in the war,” Feyre continued, her voice growing stronger, “the same sister who stood before the High Lords and spoke for me when no one else did. The same sister who threw her body over Cassian’s when he was about to die. The same sister who helped kill the King of Hybern when none of you could.”

Silence.

A thick, choking silence.

Even Amren’s expression faltered slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her silver eyes. Morrigan had stopped leaning against the wall, now standing rigid, as if Feyre’s words had knocked something loose inside her.

Amren examined her nails, utterly unbothered by the heavy silence that had settled over the room. She let it stretch, let them sit in it, before she finally spoke, her tone almost bored.

“Speaking of things Nesta did,” she mused, “there’s something else.”

Feyre stiffened, her heart lurching.

Rhysand’s head snapped toward Amren, his voice tight, controlled. “Amren.”

Amren flicked her silver eyes up to him, unimpressed. “What, boy? You were going to say it eventually.”

Feyre’s stomach twisted. “Say what?”

Amren sighed, as if this were all terribly tedious for her, before she finally looked at Feyre directly.

“We need Nesta to scry.”

The words hit Feyre like a slap.

She glanced at Rhysand, at Cassian, at the way neither of them were looking at her, and something cold curled in her stomach.

“You need her to what?” Feyre asked, her voice dangerously quiet. Amren just raised a brow. “You heard me.”

Rhysand let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing his temple as if this conversation had drained him. He glanced at Amren once more, then finally turned to Feyre, his expression carefully measured.

“Amren has been doing some research,” he admitted, his voice low, careful. “She found something about the Dread Trove… something we can’t ignore.”

Feyre crossed her arms. “And what exactly did she find?”

Rhysand inhaled sharply before answering. “Their original maker was the Cauldron. Some of them were created hundreds—thousands—of years ago and were used by various Fae rulers to secure their rule.” His violet eyes darkened slightly as he went on. “Only three of the ancient Trove have survived. The Crown, the Mask, and the Harp. The rest were either lost to time or misplaced.”

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

“And?” she pushed.

Rhysand hesitated. Just for a moment.

“And the only two people connected to the Cauldron,” Amren said, finishing for him, her silver eyes gleaming, “are Nesta and Elain.”

Feyre’s stomach turned to ice.

Her gaze flicked to Elain, who had paled considerably, her hands tightening on the fabric of her dress.

“You need her to scry,” Feyre whispered, the words tasting like ash on her tongue.

Rhysand exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

Feyre’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her jaw tightening as she tried to steady her breathing. The weight of what they were saying, of what they were asking, settled heavily over her like a storm ready to break.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice sharp, barely holding back the rage simmering beneath her skin. “Why do you need Nesta to do this?”

Amren let out a sharp sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before leveling Feyre with an unimpressed look.

“Are you really this stupid?” Amren snapped, her patience wearing thin. “Because your sister—brilliant as always—managed to piss off the human queen Briallyn. And now that wretched girl is after the Trove. If she gets them before we do, we’ll have another war on our hands, one we may not win.”

Feyre’s stomach dropped.

“Briallyn,” she echoed, barely getting the name out.

Rhysand nodded grimly. “She’s been moving in the shadows for some time now. She’s not just after power, Feyre—she’s after revenge. Nesta insulted her, humiliated her, and Briallyn has not forgotten. If she gets her hands on the Trove…” He trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Elain was deathly pale now, her fingers digging into her dress so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

Feyre swallowed, trying to push past the rush of anger, the exhaustion clawing at her.

“So now you want Nesta to fix it,” Feyre said bitterly, shaking her head. “After everything, after tonight, you still expect her to do this for you?”

Amren didn’t even blink.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Amren said simply. “None of us do.”

Feyre shook her head, her throat tightening as she struggled to contain the sheer exhaustion clawing at her.

“I’m not forcing her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, more resolute, “I won’t force her.”

She looked at them all—Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Morrigan—and then finally turned to Elain, whose face was pale, stricken.

“You know what happened last time Nesta scryed,” Feyre said, her voice shaking slightly. “You know what it did to her.”

Elain swallowed hard, but she didn’t look away.

Amren, however, only sighed as if Feyre were the most naive creature in the world. “So? Then we use Elain.”

Elain tensed.

Amren tilted her head, her silver eyes glinting. “We all know Nesta would never allow that. She’d take her place. Willingly.”

Feyre blanched, the blood draining from her face.

“We are not manipulating Nesta,” she snapped, her voice shaking.

Amren just arched a brow. “Aren’t we?”

The words felt like a slap.

Rhysand exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple, but he didn’t deny it. And Feyre—Feyre hated the truth in Amren’s words, hated that they all knew Nesta would never let Elain be the one to suffer. That even after everything, even after all that had been said tonight, Nesta would still choose to protect them.

And now, they were going to use that against her.

Feyre’s fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms. “I’ll ask her,” she said, her voice unwavering. “But if she doesn’t want to do it, then that’s the end of it.”

Amren let out a sharp, amused laugh, shaking her head. “Gods, you really are naive, aren’t you?”

Feyre snapped her head toward her, but before she could say anything, she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

Rhysand.

He wasn’t looking at her. Not directly. His expression was unreadable, his arms crossed, his power curling subtly around him—not in anger, not in disagreement, but in something… calculating.

Feyre’s stomach twisted.

“Rhys,” she said slowly, her voice quieter now, more fragile.

He finally met her eyes, and in that single moment, Feyre knew.

He didn’t oppose it.

He wasn’t against what Amren had just said.

“You would risk war,” Amren mused, her silver eyes gleaming, “just so Nesta gets a precious choice?”

Feyre’s breath hitched.

Because the way Amren said it—the way Rhysand didn’t argue—made it clear. They didn’t intend to give Nesta a choice at all.

Feyre’s hands were shaking, but she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. The room felt suffocating, filled with the weight of all the unspoken words, of the choices already made without her. Without Nesta.

“I am your High Lady,” she said, her voice ringing through the room, hard and unyielding. “And I am commanding you—Nesta will have a choice. If she says no, that is the end of it. Do you understand me?”

Amren just smiled, sharp and amused, but didn’t argue.

Morrigan’s expression was unreadable.

Elain still looked as if she wanted to sink into the floor.

Cassian had turned away, his jaw tight.

But it was Rhysand Feyre was waiting for.

Her mate, her partner, the one who had always promised her that she was his equal.

Rhysand’s violet eyes darkened, his power crackling faintly in the air. But he didn’t argue, didn’t fight her on it.

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he said smoothly. Too smoothly.

She didn’t trust it.

Didn’t trust any of them.

Feyre swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing against her chest, constricting her breath. Even as she stood there, back straight, chin lifted, she wasn’t sure if any of them truly heard her—if they truly listened.

And worse than that, she didn’t even know if Nesta would speak to her.

After everything that had happened tonight—after the way they had ripped into her, humiliated her, torn her apart in front of the one person she had been brave enough to bring around them—would Nesta even listen? Would she even let Feyre get a single word out before walking away?

Feyre wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

Gods, she wouldn’t blame her.

The memory of Nesta’s face—stone-cold, her blue-gray eyes blazing, not with fury but with something far worse, something like disgust—burned in Feyre’s mind.

Would Nesta even care about what she had to say?

Would she even look at her after tonight?

Feyre let out a slow, shuddering breath, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She knew—gods, she knew—how horribly this had gone. How horribly every attempt had gone.

She had tried. Over and over, she had tried to reach out, to mend what had been broken between them. But every time, it had ended the same way.

Repetitive. Exhausting.

She would offer an olive branch, a quiet invitation, a moment of peace—and something would always happen. Some cutting remark from Nesta, some argument neither of them knew how to stop, some fresh wound torn open that made everything worse.

Or worse than that—the silence.

The unbearable, suffocating silence.

Nesta would shut her out, ice over completely, make Feyre feel like an intruder in her own sister’s presence. And Feyre had stopped knowing what to do with that—had stopped knowing how to fix something that had been shattered so long ago.

And now?

Now, after tonight?

Feyre could feel it in her bones.

This time, there might not be another attempt. This time, Nesta might not let her try again.

Feyre looked at them all, at these people who had stood by her side for so long, the people she had fought for, bled for, nearly died for. And yet, as she met each of their gazes, she felt utterly alone. Like she was speaking to herself, like none of them truly heard her. Like they had already decided what they were going to do, with or without her permission.

“I will ask Nesta,” she said firmly, her voice even, though she felt something inside of her breaking as she spoke. “I will write her a letter. Whether she chooses to respond or not is her choice.”

She could already see the reaction before it came. The barely masked irritation flashing across Amren’s face, the way Morrigan exhaled sharply through her nose, like Feyre was a child clinging to a fantasy. The way Rhysand’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling ever so slightly at his sides. And then, predictably, Amren scoffed, shaking her head in that way she always did when she thought Feyre was being unreasonable.

“We don’t have time for letters,” Amren said coolly, folding her arms as if the matter was already settled. “This isn’t a social call, girl. Briallyn is moving now. We can’t sit around and wait for Nesta to make up her mind.”

Feyre’s temper flared, sharp and sudden, and she snapped her gaze toward Amren, glared at her, at all of them.

“I don’t care how much time we have,” she said, her voice no longer calm, no longer controlled. “Whether she chooses to respond or not is her decision. Not ours. Not yours. Not mine. Hers.”

Amren only arched a brow, but before she could respond, Rhysand spoke, his voice measured, steady, but with an undeniable edge.

“This is war, Feyre,” Rhysand said, and something in his voice made the hair on her arms rise. “And war doesn’t wait for people to make choices. You know that better than anyone.”

Feyre’s throat tightened, but she didn’t budge.

“And yet, you will wait,” she said, lifting her chin, daring him to argue. “Because I am your High Lady, and I am telling you that this is how we will do it. We will ask her. We will give her the choice you have all so clearly tried to take from her. And if she refuses, that is the end of it.”

Rhysand held her gaze, the room silent around them, the weight of her words hanging between them like a blade.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t agree.

But Feyre had drawn her line, and this time, she would not let them cross it.

Though now, she didn’t care if Rhysand agreed.

Tag list: @litnerdwrites @viajandopelomar @wolfinsocks

[interstellarlyinlove]

Propose (Feb 15th)

word count: 823

@wolfstarmicrofic

“How would you do it?”

“Pardon me?” Regulus says, taking his eyes off the dough he’s kneading and looking at Sirius. 

They’re in Sirius and Remus’ kitchen working on a bread recipe in comfortable silence. Regulus would laugh at the whole situation but he appreciates spending time with his brother after everything that’s happened, and he appreciates every chance he gets at mending his and Sirius’ relationship– even if it somehow means doing absurd things together like baking bread on random Saturday nights. 

“What are you talking about?” Regulus asks. He hasn’t been paying much attention to anything but his sticky bread dough. He doubts it should be this sticky still. 

Sirius coughs. “I meant to say, do you see yourself marrying someone someday?”

Regulus tilts his head. He tries to catch Sirius’ eyes but Sirius seems to be entirely too interested in cutting the parchment paper to fit the bread trays. Despite himself, Regulus grins. “Sure.”

Sirius coughs again. “How do you think you’d go on about it?”

“Are you proposing to Remus?”

Sirius’ eyes widen and it’s with a tremendous amount of self control that Regulus doesn’t burst out laughing. “What? Where’d you get that from? Why would you think– I mean, sure, I think. Or, no, I know, but–”

“Why are you acting dumb right now?” Regulus interrupts. 

“I’m not,” Sirius says, somehow defeated. “I just need to know how–”

“I don’t think it matters all that much.” Regulus shrugs, going back to kneading his bread dough. “The ‘how’, I mean. You guys are already married in all the ways that matter, I think.”

Sirius is quiet for a while. “But still,” he says. “Just tell me how. I want to brainstorm.”

Regulus smiles. “That’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

Regulus considers Sirius’ question. “I wouldn’t do something too public, I think. It’s something I would want to be more private.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Huh. Thank you, Reg.”

“Anytime,” Regulus says. “Listen, it says to preheat the oven in the recipe, and I don’t think I know what that means, really, should we–”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

Regulus pauses to look at Sirius. “You don’t? Salazar, Sirius, do you even know Remus?” Sirius is looking at him all unsure and confused that Regulus sighs and says, “Of course he’ll say yes, is what I meant.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Don’t be stupid. Now, what’s preheating?”

…

“You look so bad,” Sirius says instead of ‘Hello’ when James opens the door.

“Oh, hello to you too, Sirius, how’s everything? How’s actually sleeping through the night been treating you?” James glares at him.

Sirius laughs, taking baby Harry from James and cradling him gently. “Hi, Harry,” he says softly. He looks back at James. “Isn’t it past his bedtime?”

James sits on the couch and closes his eyes, sighing. “Yes. But he won’t sleep, and if I sit down, he starts crying, so I’m afraid you’re cursed to be standing the rest of the evening, babe. I would say I’m sorry but I’m really not.”

Sirius chuckles, rocking Harry gently. Harry blinks slowly at Sirius and Sirius laughs. “It’s okay, I missed my godbaby.”

James smiles. “He missed you, too. Sorry for being rude, I’m just exhausted.”

“Oh, boo hoo. Where’s Lily?”

“She went on a walk a little while ago. We take turns taking breaks. You know, to somewhat feel like humans a little bit. She’s bringing back ice cream.”

“Awe, James,” Sirius says. “We’ll babysit this weekend if you want. You could do something together, you and Lily. You should.”

“Thanks, pads. How’s Remus?”

“Good,” Sirius says, walking around James and Lily’s living room in circles and making silly faces at Harry. “The full went by smoothly.”

“Thank Merlin. I’ll be there next month, I promise, It’s just that we’re still adjusting to everything and–”

“Oh, shut up. You’ve just gotten a baby, prongs. Cut yourself some slack, will you?”

James blinks tiredly. “Sure.”

“You can take a little nap, if you want,” Sirius says. “I’ll keep Harry entertained.”

“Oh, you’re the best. Remind me to make out with you when I wake up.” James pauses. “After I shower, though.”

Sirius laughs. “Go. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

James thanks Sirius again and is right in front of the stairs when he turns around. “I didn’t ask you if you came by for anything. Do you need anything, Sirius?”

Sirius looks at Harry and James, then he smiles. “I wanted to ask for your advice about somethig, but it can wait. I think I’ve made up my mind about it, anyway.”

James blinks. “I would be pestering you about what you just said right now but I am so tired.” And he goes up the stairs. 

Sirius laughs and baby Harry must’ve also found his dad funny because Sirius swears he giggles, too. Sirius doesn’t think he’s ever been more sure of anything in his life before.

[v3nomly]

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞-𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝗝𝗝𝗞 𝗠𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶

• characters — S.Gojo ; R. Sukuna ; T. Fushiguro | GN Reader

• synopsis — Love is the greatest curse of all. All-encompassing and blinding, but when the rose-colored glasses slip, what do you see.

• tags & warnings — toxic aspects of relationships - mentions of intimacy, but no in-depth descriptions - reader blissfully ignoring the negative aspects of the men - controlling behavior - stonewalling - inklings of verbal abuse.

• a/n — I'm back and with my return, I bring JJK headcanons! My requests are open if anyone wants to throw suggestions my way.

Satoru Gojo is a spontaneous lover. One who would shower you with gifts and secretly planned trips. Covering your relationship in a hue of sappy adoration and gentle touches. Spontaneity wasn’t just in his actions, but also in his affections, the blooming warmth of tender care shifts suddenly to frigid frost and a cavern of distance.

The world rests heavily on his shoulders. While the burden of the past threatens to drag him to a place he’s unsure if he can return from. Should-haves circulate his mind until no other thoughts can manifest, obsessions on past failures and his own hidden faults. 

Even when your limbs tangled, skin covered in a sheen of sweat and bodies spent, you could see his mind was elsewhere. Thoughts lingering on something just out of reach. On the worst of days, he’d cast you aside, unwilling to even share space, as if your presence only further strained his fragile mental state. 

His tear-rimmed eyes begin to sting once again when he hears your broken sobs through the wall. Satoru hesitates, heart, lurching to break the barrier dividing you both physically and mentally, but he can’t.  

Spontaneous as ever the next day Satoru is back to his happy cheerful self. A smile graces his lips and his body displays and forces aloofness to his previous state.  

Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t deny that you were special to him. It was obvious in the way he treated you, gentle and soft, as if you were a delicate flower in bloom. Still, Sukuna was a prideful man and one who even on the best of days remained cruel and unyielding.  

When his pride was wounded it didn’t matter who crossed his path, all would be victims of his unfounded rage. The words he spits are vicious and venomous, poisoning you from the inside out. Sukuna could see it in your eyes, the hurt that began to fester, hidden beneath the glossy sheen of tears, but so apparent. 

He was rotting you, destroying you, slowly but surely, decaying your pedals, and wilting the beauty that shone so vibrantly from your being. The sight causes him to pause, the words dying on his tongue. 

Apologies were never something he gave, at least not blatantly, and now would be no different. His fist would clench and he’d watched you flinch, his anger now directed at himself instead of you. He could never hurt you, at least not with anything more than his words. His stupid cruel words and like the innocent flower you were, you’d forgive him.  

Toji Fushiguro is a passionate man. He feels no shame in his devotion to his partners, happily placing them on a pristine pedestal for all to see. Infatuation that borders on obsession, morphs and twists into an ugly creature when unchecked. Toji wouldn’t consider himself a jealous man, he understood his place in the world and made peace with it. That was until you slipped your way into his life. Permeating his mind, body, and soul, until he couldn’t distinguish where you ended and he began. You were his everything, so why do you need anyone else?

Reassurance was something he never had growing up, and thus the concept remains foreign in adulthood. Even when you try to whisper declarations of love during your most intimate acts he can’t help but think you’re lying. How could someone as perfect as you, look at him and see anything of worth?

It’s small things at first, him going through your phone while you shower; Making note of numbers and names he doesn’t recognize, blocking the ones that seem a little too eager for your attention. It’s not like you’d miss them. You don’t need them after all, you have him. 

As his doubt festers, he slips up more, outwardly showing his distrust, and constant questions of who you are going out with and why. Draining you until you finally relent, giving up going out to spare yourself from the inevitable argument that is to come.  

Only when the dust settles and he can see the results of his actions unscathed by the blinding jealousy, does his stomach drop. No matter how much you tell him it’s fine, he knows you are lying, really truly lying, unlike all the times before, and while he promises to do better, you both know that is a lie all of his own. 

© 2025 v3nomly do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

[amomentsescape]

Can you do slashers with there lover being neurodivergent (adhd, add, autistic) and how they would act around them?

Slashers with Neurodivergent! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I tried to not get too into specifics since I wanted this to be applicable to anyone on the neurodivergence spectrum. I hope you enjoy!

Freddy Krueger

Let's be honest, Freddy is a walking sensory nightmare

Loud, cackling voice

Rough, scarred skin

Constantly covered in the scent of blood and death

He's not exactly the most calm type of person to be around

However, he tries his best to be understanding for you (surprisingly)

He'll fill the room with your favorite scent

If things are too loud, he'll muffle the sound and replace it with your favorite song

And any time you need a break from your day-to-day life, he'll be there at night, helping you into his world

He knows what it's like to feel a little different, so he wants to try and make things as comfortable as possible for you

Michael Myers

If social interactions aren't your forte, you're in luck

The only "socializing" Michael wants to do involves stabbing, which he never forces you into

So the majority of your time is spent at home, doing whatever you want away from the loud sounds and bustling lives of other people

If you're more on the energetic side, then this might be a little tough for you

Michael isn't really known to be excitable

Or really having any desire of "fun"

But if you're bouncing off the walls enough, he'll eventually give in

Anything to get you to calm down

Just don't expect him to join in on any of the fun

He'll just stand there stiffly, watching you do whatever it is you wanted

Jason Voorhees

He loves everything about you and wouldn't change anything

Jason had also struggled with similar things as you, so he completely understands

Socializing isn't his thing, so he won't ever put you in those types of situations

But if you want to get out of the forest for a bit, he'll happily tag along as your protector

If certain textures or visuals trigger you, he's throwing them out the window (literally)

And he's also really good at picking up on your bodily cues when words fail you

He understands you a lot better than others have in the past, and he always makes it a point to learn as much as he can about you

He doesn't see you as anything different, he just sees you

Thomas Hewitt

He grew up dealing with his own triggers and being confused why certain things bothered him more than the rest of his family

So meeting you has honestly helped him learn more about himself

Once you sit down and explain everything to him, something in him just clicks

He honestly sees it as destiny now

You're just like him; you two were made for each other

And because of his own personal experiences, he's able to understand and listen to you very easily

If anything is upsetting or triggering you, he's quick to help you immediately

Will drop everything the moment you show the slightest discomfort

And if anything is ever bothering him, you're the first and only person he'll go to

You understand him better than anyone in his family ever did

Bubba Sawyer

He honestly has no idea what's going on until his mother explains it to him a little better

After that, all you have to do is give him a certain look, and he immediately knows

He'll quiet down right away when he can tell he's being too loud

And if he's overstimulating you with his giant hugs and smothering kisses, he'll quickly pull back and sit stiffly next to you

He has a decent understanding of what triggers you, he just has a hard time with thinking about his actions beforehand

He's just used to being so impulsive all the time

So it's going to take a while for him to get used to everything, but he'll happily do it for you

He doesn't think any differently of you either

This is just you, and he wants to be your biggest supporter

Brahms Heelshire

He can tell things are a little different with you compared to the "nannies" he's had in the past

It's harder for you to stay on track, your mind bouncing from one thing to the next despite the list in front of you

And you always seem to keep the music quieter around the house, the kitchen a bit tidier than necessary, and the lights turned low most of the day

He doesn't ever end up questioning you about it

He really has no reason to feel any certain way about how you act

You take care of him and the home better than anyone else in the past

And he can tell your curiosity of the large manor and the differing peace and quiet you're receiving here is putting you in a state of ease

Which is good, since this is your new home

Norman Bates

Norman grew up feeling a little different from other people too

And it's not just because he's a murderer

He likes to do things a certain way, and you're just about the only one he trusts to do them too

He doesn't like being in larger gatherings or loud areas, so he won't ever force you into those

And as someone with a short social battery, he can almost immediately tell when yours is drained

The moment he sees the tilt of your head or your drooping eyes, he's throwing you into bed with a warm blanket, a mug of tea, and your favorite book

And if you're ever struggling to focus or silence the thoughts booming around in your head, he'll sit beside you and read to you

Somehow, his voice always manages to replace the ones yelling at you in your mind

He's basically "calm" in human form

Billy Loomis

He's not the most empathetic with everything since he doesn't fully understand what you're going through

But he knows certain things bother you, and he gets incredibly uncomfortable if you're also uncomfortable

Thankfully, he's not big into crazy social situations or loud areas

He prefers the peace and quiet most of the time

And he's clean too, always washing up right after one of his "excursions"

And although not the most sympathetic, he's observant

If a certain situation made you uncomfortable, he won't put you in it ever again

If someone said something rude about you acting "differently," they'll be dead before the next morning

He's protective over you

Stu Macher

You can't convince me that Stu isn't also neurodivergent

His whole personality screams ADHD

So if you struggle with maintaining attention on something or becoming easily hyper-fixated, Stu is probably going to make this much worse for you

He can't help it, because he has a pretty good understanding of you

However, if certain sensory experiences are tough for you, he'll do his best to calm himself down

He wants to be your security blanket, not a trigger

So if he has to talk more softly, move more slowly, and just relax at home with you instead of going to some crazy party, he will

A casual movie night at home is just fine for him, it doesn't even have to be scary!

Your company is honestly the most important thing to him

Vincent Sinclair

He can relate to you in more ways than one, and he's grown to learn more about what to do whenever things get tough

He's accumulated and made his own sensory blankets and fidget toys which he happily shares with you

He also has his own tips for whenever you have trouble focusing or keeping your thoughts at bay

And if there's anything that differs between you two, he'll gladly take a seat and listen to your perspective with how you feel

Having a brother like Bo has made him feel incredibly reclusive growing up

You're the first person to make him feel like he isn't alone

So whatever he can do to show you some normalcy, he's going to do

No matter the cost

Bo Sinclair

He knows the traits of Vincent all too well to not notice the similarities in you

Which is a bit of a shame considering him and his brother are almost polar opposites of each other

Bo wants to be in the spotlight, socializing and causing a ruckus in any late night establishment he can find

He likes excitement, unpredictability, and chaos

His idea of relaxing is your idea of Hell, unfortunately

There are thankfully days that Bo would rather just hang on the couch with a beer in hand by your side

But these days aren't super common

And he unfortunately has trouble sympathizing with you whenever you feel overwhelmed or upset by something

He tries, and he may even talk to Vincent a bit if he's desperate

As long as you don't prevent him from going out and acting however he pleases, he won't have a problem with your differences