#masterlist;borealis

[borealisbarbie]

borealis masterlist-

summary: Dawson is a contracted thief working a risky job procuring what he is told is a powerful weapon from a shady research lab. Juno is said powerful weapon- a victim of prolonged experimentation and testing, now deemed ready for sale to the highest bidder. The job goes horribly wrong, Dawson is nearly caught, and now has both the research lab and his sketchy employers after him, with Juno as his very unwilling and very demanding tagalong.

tags: queer (m/m), sci fi, heists, kidnapping, mystery, on the run, human experimentation, grumpy x bitchy, forced proximity, annoyances to lovers, there was only one bed, contained character list, overprotectiveness, codependency, hurt/comfort, angst, wip

content warnings: noncon body modification, gaslighting, kidnapping, gun violence, language, smut (posted separately as one shots, fade to black in the actual series), torture, anxiety, PTSD, tbd.

tbd.

tbd.

chapter one chapter two (posting Monday, March 25th)

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ aurora borealis — liking — part 1/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader wc. 7k cw. sfw but explicit content in future chapters - minors do not interact, explicit language, friends to lovers, alcohol, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, lewd imagery, miscommunication, don't try this at home, major character death, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Masterlist ⋆ Next

2013.

Satoru Gojo.

He’s the friend of a friend of a friend. You see him around school sometimes, but you’ve never talked to him before.

He’s popular— really popular. You would have to go out of your way not to know who The Satoru Gojo is. Loud-mouthed, arrogant, and over six feet tall with shocking white hair.

Everyone knows who Satoru Gojo is.

And that’s why you’re caught off guard when he introduces himself to you. His voice is small—meek—and his back curves downward to make him seem less imposing. He can’t quite meet your eyes when he introduces himself, his bright, baby blues bouncing between your face and his shakey, outstretched hand between you.

You laugh incredulously and it almost seems like he flinches.

He presses his palm into his stomach, trailing up the thick fabric of his black hoodie until it reaches his throat before fingering at the hair at the back of his neck. “What’s… what’s so funny?” he asks, eyes on the floor.

“I know who you are,” you say. You gesture to the large printout of Gojo as a child, pinned to a nearby wall, vandalized with a marker mustache and decorated with balloon stickers. “You’re the Birthday Boy.”

He laughs, but it comes out more like a cough. “Oh, yeah… yeah, that’s me.” Gojo’s lips purse, pressing into the corner of his mouth as he shoves both hands into the centre pocket of his hoodie. He seems almost… bashful. “Sorry, I’ll stop bothering you.”

Suddenly, you feel guilty.

He turns to make his way out of the kitchen, but you reach out and grab his elbow, keeping him in place. He glances at you from over his shoulder, eyebrow cocked.

“I’m sorry, I was being rude,” you say, and his shoulders seem to relax. “Can we start over?”

He laughs—genuinely, this time—and his eyes crinkle as deep, long dimples appear on either side of his smile. “Ok, sure,” he says, returning to face you. He pulls his hand from his pocket, holding it out for you to shake. “My name is Satoru Gojo.”

You take his hand in yours, shaking it gently as you introduce yourself. He’s tall, so you’re not surprised when his hand dwarfs yours. His fingers are long and thin and incredibly cold and when you pull away, you find yourself curling your hand into a fist to try to bring warmth back to your fingers.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “It’s your birthday today, right?”

“Something like that,” he says, his smile growing lazy as he melts into the kitchen counter behind him. He rests his elbows on the granite, one leg bent to support his weight while the other stretches out in front. The fabric of his hoodie smooths across his chest but doesn’t quite pull taut.

“How old are you turning?”

“Twenty-four.”

“You’re a little old to still be in school, don’t you think?”

He snorts, shooting you a narrowed look. “Are you always this rude to people you barely know?” You shrink back from his comment but feel immediate relief when he breaks out into another smile. “I’m just kidding.”

“Sorry,” you say for the second time tonight. “I promise I’m usually really friendly and nice.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he hums, shrugging. “And yeah, maybe I am a little old to still be working on my undergrad, but there’s nothing wrong with taking my time. And what about you? Planning on gradding in four years, getting married, and popping out kids before the geriatric age of thirty?”

His mouth hangs open in mock-shock and you roll your eyes.

“Uh, no. I think I’m going to take five years.”

“Heaven forbid!”

“Besides, what’s wrong with planning out my life?”

“Wait, was I actually right?” he laughs when your eyes dart away. “You can’t be serious. You’re one of those girls that goes to university just to find a husband?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say that.” You frown at him in an effort to tame his giggling, but he just laughs harder. “What’s the rush? Don’t want to be a Christmas Cake?”

“Ok, now you’re the one being rude,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Gojo raises his hands in mock surrender, but his face is still twisted into a teasing smirk. “I just know what I want from life so I’m taking steps to be where I want to be.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Gojo nods through the doorway of the kitchen into the living room, gesturing to all of the party guests in the other room. “And does he know about your strict timeline?”

You shuffle your weight from one foot to the other, avoiding Gojo’s eyes when you speak next. “Well… I don’t exactly have a boyfriend, yet—”

“You can’t be serious!” He presses an arm to his stomach as he laughs, nearly knocking himself off-balance. “All these plans and no boyfriend? How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Ooo, it’s going to be tight.” Gojo stands up to his full height, grinning down at you as he holds up his hand with a single finger to the ceiling. “That’s one year of dating—” he raises another finger, “—two years before he proposes—” another finger, “—three years at the absolute soonest before you get married.”

“And then I’ll be twenty-five,” you say, like you’ve won. 

“Yeah, because everything always works out exactly how you expect it to.”

“Of course, not. He might propose early.”

Gojo laughs. He runs his hand through his hair and then down the back of his neck until his fingers hook around the black blindfold still tied around him. A discarded accessory from an earlier game of Pin the Tail on the Birthday Boy.

“I like you.”

You’re caught off guard by his comment. Your cheeks burn hot as you blink up at him, but before you can respond, he’s already talking, again.

“So, if not your boyfriend, then who’d you come here with?”

“Uh… my roommate has a class with one of your friends, I think, and she extended us the invitation,” you explain, stumbling over your words—why are you getting so flustered?

“Oh, yeah? Who’s your roommate? Maybe I know her.”

“Kento Nanami.”

“Strange name for a girl,” he quips, and you roll your eyes. “Bet she’s ugly like a dog.”

“What a rude thing to say about my friend,” you say, affronted, but Gojo’s mischievous smile has you laughing around your words.

“Hey, you got a couple jabs in—it’s only fair I get to tease you a lil, too,” he hums, turning his attention back to the mass of party guests in the other room. “I know that name… Nanami. He’s in Uta’s class, right?”

“Um, I’m not sure—”

“Tall, awkward, blonde kid?” Gojo waves his hand vaguely around Nanami’s height. “Yeah, I definitely know him. Uta talks about that guy a lot… are you into him?”

You jerk backwards, disgusted. “No, we’re just friends.”

He shoots you a look of disbelief and then makes an over-exaggerated wink. “Sure ya are.”

“I’m serious,” you insist as Gojo rolls his eyes.

“He’s exactly the type of guy that someone like you—someone with plans and goals—is looking for. Of course, you’re into him.”

“I’m not,” you say again, but Gojo’s not even looking at you anymore. His attention is back at the party guests in the other room. “He’s not my type. I’m looking for someone more…”

“Fun?” Gojo finishes, grinning down at you.

You look away quickly with a scowl on your face. “I—I don’t know. Just… I don’t like him like that, ok?”

“Sure, whatever you say, princess.” Gojo shrugs, lacing his hands behind his head as he stands tall beside you. “I gotta go cut some cake, but I’ll come find you later.”

He shoots you a playful wink before walking off, leaving you stammering in his wake. You almost reach out for him again, wanting to pull him back into you and prolong the conversation, but with a few long strides, he’s already in the other room, welcomed by a series of cheers from the other guests.

“Have no fear, the Birthday Boy is here!” Gojo yells, stretching out his arms as he walks into the crowd.

You roll your eyes— there’s that arrogance he’s known for. 

You look through the cupboards in the kitchen in search of a glass of water (your original reason for wandering into the kitchen, before you were interrupted by Satoru Gojo), and find an assortment of mugs. They’re all mismatched, likely thrifted or gifted, so you grab the first one that catches your eye before bringing it to the sink to get some water.

From the kitchen, the noise in the other room is dampened. You can hear bits and pieces of conversation from some guests standing near the doorway, Gojo yelling for cake, and the music playing from the TV. It’s a bit overwhelming—all that noise—so you enjoy the silence and solitude of the kitchen for as long as you can before returning to the party for cake, leaving your empty mug in the sink.

You push past a few people before finding Nanami. He’s leaned against the far wall by himself, sipping casually from a red solo cup as he observes the other party guests. You laugh to yourself as you approach, he’s the one who wanted to go to this party in the first place, and yet he hasn’t talked to anyone all night long.

He notices you as you walk up and his brows raise in acknowledgement, lowering the cup from his lips as you lean back on the wall beside him. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“I went to the kitchen for some water.”

From where you’re standing, you have a direct line of sight of the couch where Gojo has made himself comfortable. He has a girl on either side of him—both scowling—and a too-small party hat affixed to his head.

His long arms are thrown across the back of the couch, around each of the girls’ bodies. You watch one hand dip down behind one of the girls’ backs and you see her squeal as Gojo pinches her side. She frowns at him, slapping him across the chest in retaliation, but he just laughs and does it again.

You shift your weight, crossing your arms over your chest and moving your attention over to Nanami, instead. He’s watching Gojo, too, and you see the tendon in his jaw tensing.

“Are there a lot of people here that you know?” you ask, and he doesn’t shift away his attention when he responds.

“Just my TA. I haven’t seen any students from class.”

“Oh, the girl that invited us, right? Have you talked to her yet?”

“No,” Nanami sighs. He ducks his head as he takes a sip from his drink, shifting his attention to you when he lowers his cup. “She’s the one over there—Utahime.”

You follow his nod back to the couch and your lips press into a tight, thin line. “The one with Gojo?”

“Unfortunately.”

Gojo’s attention is solely focused on Utahime, now. Both of his hands circle her waist as he tickles her sides. She’s yelling at him, her face scrunched in anger, but you can’t quite make out what she’s saying to him. The girl on Gojo’s opposite side seems grateful that Gojo is leaving her alone and has since lit up a cigarette.

“Are they… together?” you ask.

“She wouldn’t date someone like him,” Nanami scoffs, but you note the lack of conviction in his tone.

“That’s the TA you have a crush on, right?” you ask, looking up at Nanami. You watch his cheeks flush pink as he tries to stammer a response, but you press on. “The masters student teaching your class, right?”

“I do not have a crush on her,” Nanami insists, but his hand comes up to pull the collar of his shirt away from his throat. “I’m not a teenager.”

“You can still have a crush on someone as an adult,” you say, enjoying how visibly embarrassed Nanami is becoming. “I really think you should try to talk to her tonight. She invited you for a reason.”

“She was just being polite.”

“Then why aren’t any of your other classmates here?” you note, and he stays silent. “You’re graduating this year and then she won’t be your TA anymore. Make a move on her.”

Nanami waves his hand in dismissal, clearly finished with this conversation, but you’re not.

“I was talking to Gojo in the kitchen, and he knew who you were.”

Nanami shoots you a sidelong glance. “Ok?”

“He knew your name. And what you look like.”

“Ok?” Nanami repeats, lost.

“Utahime told him about you,” you say, like it’s obvious. “Why would she tell him about you?”

Nanami shakes his head. “I… I don’t know.”

You want to throttle him. How could someone so smart be so dense?

Before you get a chance to really spell it out for him, all of the lights shut off, submerging you all in darkness. The crowd starts a horribly off-key rendition of the Happy Birthday Song as a walking fire hazard parts the sea of people. Two students you don’t recognize carry the cake to the coffee table in front of Gojo, alight with twenty-four candles, before stepping aside to join the other singers.

You watch Gojo stare down at the cake, the flames casting flickering shadows across his face. He grins, running his tongue across his teeth in delight before taking a comically long inhale.

Blue eyes flick up to meet yours just before the candles go out.

Utahime and the other girl on the couch dish out slices of cake to the party guests as Gojo plates them. There’s no rhyme or reason to his cuts, so the slices are all awkward shapes and sizes. Utahime is visibly annoyed every time she picks up a plate that Gojo has slapped a slice on.

You nudge Nanami hard as Utahime serves cake to some of the guests standing near the two of you, before returning to grab more.

“This is your chance,” you hiss, trying to be discrete. “When she gives you a piece of cake, talk to her.”

“She’s busy,” Nanami says, fingers tapping against the side of his cup. “I don’t want to interrupt her.”

You nod across the room to the other girl that’s dishing out cake. “The other girl can hand out cake while you’re talking to Utahime.”

Nanami shakes his head, looking down at his feet and curling his shoulders like he’s trying to disappear. 

“Come on,” you urge, nudging him again as Utahime nears.

She keeps her head low as she approaches, jutting her hands out to give you both a plate of cake. She has her head ducked low, too—her face hidden by her blunt-cut bangs.

You move your hands away from the plate, refusing to accept it. “Oh, are there any smaller pieces?” you ask.

Utahime looks up at you, her eyes darting to Nanami before returning to your face. She groans and rolls her eyes, “I don’t think so. That idiot doesn’t know how to cut cake so they’re all—” She holds up the plates with an apologetic look, gesturing to the mounds of dessert slopped onto the plate, “—like this. You don’t have to eat it all.”

You laugh, taking one of the plates from her while Nanami takes the other. “Ok, well, thank you! What was your name, sorry?”

“Utahime,” she smiles.

The tension between Utahime and Nanami is so thick you could cut it with a knife. They’re both trying to pretend like they don’t notice each other, while still sneaking glances at one another. 

Luckily, with her response, you’re able to get them to finally acknowledge one another.

“Oh! You’re Nanami’s TA, right?” you say, feigning excitement as you nudge Nanami in the side. Utahime and Nanami’s eyes meet, and you watch Utahime quickly look away with a dusting of pink across her cheeks. “Nanami speaks very highly of you, I feel like I already know you.”

You can feel Nanami’s irritation from your comment—your admission that he fawns about her in private—but it melts quickly when Utahime looks up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Really?”

Nanami smiles, laughing softly like it catches him off guard, and he nods. “Yes, you’ve been such a great mentor to me this past year. You’re an excellent teacher.”

Her smile widens and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you were able to make it tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of class for once.”

Just as you’re about to sneak away and leave the duo alone, you see a dark shape come up from behind Utahime. Long arms stretch over her shoulders before wrapping around her, pulling her tight against Satoru Gojo’s broad chest.

“Uta - hime!” he sings, settling his chin on the top of her head with a pout. He's still wearing that stupid party hat. “What are you doing? There’s cake that needs to be handed out.”

Her smile disappears instantly, shifting quickly into a sharp scowl as she shoves Gojo’s arms off of her shoulders before whirling around to push at his chest. She’s much smaller than he is, so he feigns a stumble from the strength of her shove.

“Get your hands off of me,” she hisses.

He juts his lower lip out even further and you feel Nanami stiffen at your side. “Why are you being so mean to me on my birthday, Utahime?”

“It’s not your—”

You don’t want to lose this opportunity for Nanami to talk with Utahime, so you bite your tongue and step forward to reach for Gojo’s arm, linking it with yours. “Oh, happy birthday! I’ve been meaning to talk with you!”

“Huh?” Gojo looks down at you quizically, “You have?” He doesn’t resist when you pull him away, dragging him away from the two and their blossoming relationship.

“Yes…” you say, the words trailing off as you focus on weaving through the crowd. You just need to get far enough that Gojo forgets about Utahime—where’s that other girl he was bothering? Maybe you can lead him to her, instead.

“We talked earlier.” Gojo sounds less and less impressed as you tug him to the opposite side of the room. You’re about to pull him into the kitchen when he plants his feet on the ground and levels you with a sly look. “Couldn’t get enough of me, eh? I told you I’d come find you later.”

You crinkle your nose up at him, annoyed, but still feeling heat rushing to your cheeks from the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You glance back through the crowd, seeing glimpses of Utahime and Nanami together—thankfully, it seems like they’ve returned to their conversation. Utahime is laughing behind her hand and Nanami is fingering the collar of his shirt.

“Are you and that girl together?”

“Huh? Utahime?” he snorts. “Don’t let her hear you asking that—she’d rather die than have people think we’re dating.”

You exhale a heavy sigh of relief. That’s good news.

“Why?” His tone has you returning your attention to him as he peers down at you, eyebrow cocked. “You gotta thing for bangs?”

“No,” you frown. “My friend is interested in her, so I hoping they can talk and then maybe…” you trail off with a shrug and Gojo nods in understanding.

“I thought that guy looked familiar,” he says. “That’s your roommate, right?”

“Yeah, Nanami.”

“The Dog,” he says, grinning when you scowl at him. He bares his teeth, growling lowly before snapping toward you, biting at the air in front of your face.

You turn away from him with a groan and try to step back, away from his space. But Gojo’s arm is still linked with yours, so he holds you close, capitalizing on your misstep by pulling you even closer.

“You have nothing to worry about me and Uta, ‘kay? She’s not my type.” He grins down at you wolfishly as he speaks.

You feel your body bloom with heat as sweat begins to form along the nape of your neck. Gojo’s face is all sharp edges and angles: the line of his jaw, the cut of his cheekbones, and the point on each of his canines. You gulp, eyes widening as your gaze travels up to his darkened eyes.

“Come to think of it,” he says, speaking slowly and deliberately. You watch the pink of his tongue moving around the hard sounds of each word. “I don’t think you’re my type, either.”

The heat in his gaze compels you to ask, “What’s your type?”

“Girls that want to fuck me.”

You feel your heart lurch into your throat as Gojo leans in closer. His eyes travel across your face to your mouth and his tongue darts out to run across his lower lip in a way that has you mirroring his movements. His gaze dips lower, to your throat, and you feel as if he can see the pounding of your pulse through the artery in your neck.

“Am I right?” he asks, eyes swinging back up to meet yours. “Or do you want to fuck me?”

You waver under the intensity of his gaze—bright, blue eyes that bore through you until you feel the heat of his look on the back of your head. You find yourself at a loss for words, stammering up at him as you make a feeble attempt to step out of his grip. The only thing keeping your bodies apart is your hand at your chest, holding the plate of cake that Utahime gave you, but Gojo’s chest is pressed right against the soft paper plate, bending it upwards.

His hand comes up, index finger pointed as he collects a dollop of whipped cream on the tip. You watch with rapt attention as he brings the digit up to his mouth, wet lips wrapping around his finger as he slowly licks the cream from the tip.

“Yum,” he says, and you feel your mouth go dry.

“Satoru, leave the girl alone.”

Gojo’s face twists into a pout, eyes flicking up to meet something behind you, before releasing you and returning to his full height. You gasp for air—as if you hadn’t taken a breath during the entire exchange—and stumble backwards from the loss of his grip. You feel large, warm hands grab at your upper arms, steadying you, before you hear the voice again. This time, he says your name.

“Are you alright?”

You turn your head to meet the voice and although his tone and touch are soft, the man’s smile is sinister in a way that makes your stomach twist—your skin is still hot from Gojo’s earlier stunt and this matching look isn’t making it any better, so you take a step away.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” You offer him a grateful smile, but it feels strained.

“Why are you bothering us?” Gojo groans, and he reaches forward to grab the plate of cake from your shakey hands, claiming it as his own. “Don’t you have party guests to entertain, Suguru?”

Suguru Geto—you recognize him immediately after Gojo says his name. He’s another student in your school who’s just as popular as Satoru Gojo. The two of them are always together, and you can almost feel the familiarity between them as Gojo melts against the wall under Geto’s disapproving stare.

“Might I remind you that this is, technically, your party, Satoru?”

Gojo waves his hand in dismissal. “Yeah, but you’re the one hosting.”

“You haven’t finished cutting the cake.”

Another handwave. “Shoko can do it. Or you, Suguru, since you’re so bored you have to interrupt my conversations.”

Geto shakes his head, dropping the subject. Instead, he nods toward Nanami and Utahime, who have now moved to sit together on the couch. You notice that they’re sitting close enough that their thighs are pressed against one another—the sight makes your heart swell with happiness.

“Looks like Uta found the courage to talk to…” Geto trails off, lips pursed in thought.

“Nanami,” you say, and Geto looks down at you curiously.

“Yes. Nanami,” he repeats as the corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile.

“Yeah, turns out: Nanami’s into her, too,” Gojo says. You watch him start to eat the cake with his hands—scooping each bite with his middle and ring fingers, cradling the dessert up to his mouth before sucking it off.

You feel very, very warm.

“How did you discover that?” Geto asks, but he’s looking down at you.

Around a mouthful of his own fingers, Gojo says, “This one, here,” and he nods down at you.

“I’m Nanami’s roommate,” you supply, shrinking under the gaze of the two men beside you. “He’s been wanting to talk to her for a while, but he always has some excuse not to.”

Geto hums in consideration, returning his attention to the two on the couch. “It’s funny how things work out like that,” he says. “You know what they say about sexual tension.”

“What?” Gojo asks with whipped cream on his lips.

“That if you feel it, then it’s mutual.”

Gojo runs his thumb over his lips, cleaning off the mess before sucking the finger into his mouth. You feel your throat go dry as you watch him, eyes focused on the way his lips circle the digit, lips pursing lewdly before he pulls his thumb out with a wet pop! You can see a string of saliva trailing from the end of his finger to his lips. He seems so distracted by what’s left of the cake on his plate that you’re not even sure if he’s listening to what Geto is saying.

Hell, you’re hardly paying attention to what Geto’s saying.

"You know, Satoru, if Utahime gets a boyfriend, I doubt she'll still chauffer you around town the way she does now."

Gojo frowns, deep lines etching between his brows as he looks up from the plate at Geto. "What do you mean? She has to drive me."

"Satoru doesn't know how to drive," Geto explains, looking down at you with a wink.

"Because I get motion sick," Gojo says, frowning deeper. "I need Uta to drive me otherwise I'll get sick everywhere."

"Perhaps it's time for you to get your license, Satoru," Geto says. He's biting back a smile that only seems to make Gojo more upset. "I'm sure you wouldn't get motion sick if you yourself were the driver."

Gojo waves his hand in dismissal. "That doesn't sound right, at all. I need to be driven," he insists.

Geto shakes his head, chuckling softly before looking down at you. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again, sometime.” He nods across the room at Nanami and Utahime before stepping away from you and Gojo and returning to the party.

As you watch him leave, you realize that you never introduced yourself to him. Yet, he knew your name.

“Bye, Suguru,” Gojo sings, waving at Geto’s retreating figure by clapping his fingers against his palm. When he shifts his attention back to you, he’s licking the last of the icing off of his plate. “Now, then… where were we?” He discards the plate onto a nearby table before steeling you with his full attention.

His lips are shiny with saliva and sugar and you look away when his tongue darts out the clean it off.

“Actually,” you start, raising your hands to keep Gojo away when he leans into your space, “I’m getting a little tired—I think I’m going to go home.”

He frowns. “Already? What about your roommate, you’re just going to leave him here?”

You both turn to see the pair laughing and Nanami’s hand resting on Utahime’s knee. “I think he’ll be fine,” you say.

Gojo’s pouting again when you look over at him. You wonder if this look works on everyone—the big, blue, puppy-dog eyes and the soft, pink lip jutted out—he seems to be using it a lot, tonight.

“You really don't want to stay and talk with some girl you barely know when you have a room full of friends, do you?”

He seems hurt and you have to look away when your heart starts to flutter in your chest. “Well, I’m trying to get to know you better, but you’re blowing me off. Do you know how nervous I was to introduce myself to you? And just now, when I thought things were going well, you tell me you want to leave?”

“Why would you be nervous to introduce yourself to me?” you scoff. You feel your cheeks burn and you can feel yourself start to sweat. “I’m not—I’m a nobody.”

Gojo snorts, shooting you a look of disbelief. “Every somebody was once a nobody. So, you’re not going anywhere, now that I have you. Come on, let me show you something.”

Before you have a chance to protest or make up some sort of lame excuse, he’s got your hand in his and he’s leading you back into the kitchen. He walks you to the sink, where he drops your hand, and then leans forward over the counter to work open the screen of the kitchen window.

You feel some of the sugary residue on your fingers from the cake on his hands and you rub your hands together to try to clean them off. “What are you doing?” you ask.

“You’ll see,” he sings, prying the screen off the window and setting it down on the ground. He slides open the pane and then gestures to the now-open window with a smile on his face. “Do you wanna go first?”

He laughs at your confused expression, wrapping his hands around the frame of the window as he steps his foot onto the counter. “Ok, fine—I’ll go first.”

And then he climbs outside.

You rush over to the window, hopping onto the kitchen sink to peer outside, but you don’t see him. The kitchen is on the second floor, so if he fell, he would’ve landed directly on the concrete below—but you don’t see him.

“I’m over here, dummy,” he scoffs, and you turn your head to see him sitting on the portico—the small roof overtop of the front door. “What? You thought I jumped out the window?”

“I really don’t know what to expect, when it comes to you,” you say, feeling your heart rate relax at the sight of Gojo safe.

He grins wider from your comment and extends his hand out to you. “Come on. I’ll help you up.”

You’re not sure why you take his hand, but you do, and the next thing you know, he’s dragging you out of the window and into the open air. Your legs and arms scramble for purchase on anything, your hand grabbing at the sleeve of his hoodie while he holds your opposite hand tight.

“Geez, relax. I’m not going to drop you,” he assures, but you still feel your heart fall into your stomach when—for just a moment—your feet dangle in the air.

Gojo pulls you up onto the roof with him, holding you tight against his chest as your heart rattles against your ribcage and you struggle to catch your breath. “What—the—fuck?” you pant, eyeing him wildly.

“You’re fine.”

He cradles the back of your head in his palm, bringing your face into the crook of his neck as he holds you until your body stops trembling.

Heights freak you out, but you’ve never reacted quite like this before. Heart racing, hands shaking, sweat running down your back—it’s unusual.

But Gojo doesn’t comment on it at all. He just holds you close against him until your breathing returns to normal and you push yourself away from his chest. “You’re good,” he says, but his eyes are looking up at the sky.

You follow his gaze, expecting to see a sky full of stars, but all you see are clouds. You try not to worry about how your legs are draped over Gojo’s thighs on either side of the roof’s peak—you’re practically sitting in his lap!

“Sometimes, you can see the northern lights from here, especially around this time of year,” he says. Both of his hands have moved to your lower back, cradling you close to his body as he cranes his head up. “Doesn’t seem like it’s a good night for it, tonight.”

“That’s too bad,” you say. “I’ve never seen the northern lights.”

“That sucks, they’re really cool.”

You can feel his breath tickle your face when he speaks—it smells sweet.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

Gojo laughs. “This time, next year, Suguru and I are going to be travelling around the world. Next time, we won’t be able to see them together.”

You look down at him to see him already staring at you. Big, blue eyes blinking at you owlishly as your faces sit only inches apart.

You feel his hands fiddling with the fabric of your shirt, wiggling their way underneath the bottom hem until cold, slender fingers press into the bare skin of your lower back. Your back arches away from the touch, forcing your chest against Gojo’s and he grins.

“Hey! Your hands are freezing!”

“Aw, come on, I’m just tryin’ to warm ‘em up,” he wines. He sprawls his hands across your lower back, palms pressed into the muscle while his fingers slot into the grooves of your spine. You try to squirm away from his touch, but there’s nowhere to go.

“I’m going to fall off the roof if you keep doing this.”

“Nah, I’d catch you.”

Your hands curl into fists around the fabric of his hoodie while you squirm in his lap. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and laughs, warm air fanning across your skin.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” he says.

You hiss a sharp breath when his hands start to inch their way up your back, exposing more skin to the cool December air—such a sharp contrast to the warmth you feel in the rest of your body from Gojo’s laughter into your neck.

You swear you can feel sticky lips mouthing at your skin, but your heart is pounding so loudly in your chest that you’re starting to feel nauseous. It must be the fear of falling, you think, but even though you’re squirming away from his ice-cold fingers, in Gojo's arms you feel oddly… safe.

“Do you think Uta and the Dog are going to get married soon?” he asks, voice muffled.

“I don’t know. They barely know each other.”

“So?” Satoru pulls his head from your shoulder to look at your face. Your skin feels so warm that his cool fingers now feel like a nice reprieve from the heat, rather than an annoyance. “When you know, you know.”

“What, like love at first sight?” you blurt out around a laugh. “You don’t believe in that, do you?”

He frowns. “Of course, I do.”

You level Gojo with an incredulous look but the determination in his face doesn’t waver. Your gaze bounces between each of his eyes and you feel like you could get lost in the depths of their blue. They seem softer now than they did inside, not quite as sharp and bright. It must be because it's so dark outside, you reason. With the clouds covering the moon, there's not much light out here aside from the dull glow from the coloured lights along Geto's roof.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze to the house’s roof behind his shoulder when you realize you’ve been staring at him. “How old is Utahime?”

“Past her prime,” Gojo says quickly, and you laugh despite yourself.

“Then yeah, they’ll get married soon.”

Gojo laughs, pulling you closer with his palms on your back. “Are you gonna be jealous if they get married before you do?”

“No, of course not,” you scoff. “Just as long as I have a date to their wedding, I’ll be happy.”

“I’m sure you will,” he hums, “and if not, you can always be my date.”

“No way,” you dismiss quickly.

You can practically hear him pouting, even with your gaze elsewhere. “Why not? I’d be a really good date.”

“Satoru? Is that you out there?”

Gojo’s hands fall back down to your hips and he cranes his neck to look at the open kitchen window. Leaning out is the girl from earlier—the one that was sitting on the couch with Gojo and Utahime. 

“Oh. Hey, Shoko,” he says while you tug your shirt down to cover your exposed skin. You’re grateful for the interruption so your heart rate can return to normal. “What’s up?”

“Suguru doesn’t like it when you sit out there—you know that. You ruin all the shingles on his roof.”

“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

Shoko doesn’t respond. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, the cherry burning red, before exhaling heavily into the open air. “Yeah, sure.”

“Please, don’t tell him,” Gojo begs. “We’re waiting to see the northern lights.”

She shrugs lazily, taking another drag from her cigarette before looking up at the sky with her exhale. “Doesn’t look like a good night for them.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad,” he says, frowning.

“Maybe we’ll see them if we’re patient enough,” you say. Although you don’t want Geto to get mad at you, there’s a part of you that’s having fun out here on the roof with Gojo—you’re not quite ready to go inside, yet.

Your response surprises him. You can tell from the way his hands tighten around your hips and how his gaze snaps to your face. “Yeah, maybe!”

“Suit yourself,” Shoko says, ashing her cigarette out the window. She disappears back into the house and you can hear a muffled yell from inside, “Satoru’s on the roof.”

“Again?” sighs an exasperated voice.

Gojo grumbles and rests his chin on your shoulder, opposite from the window. “Such a buzzkill,” he complains.

“Satoru?” Geto pops his head out of the window, brows furrowed. “Get off the roof.”

“Satoru’s not here,” Gojo says, unconvincingly.

“Satoru.”

Gojo groans and releases his hold on your body to dramatically toss his hands up in the air. “Guys—come on. Do you really need to interrupt me like this? It’s my birthday party!” he huffs, pouting when Shoko’s head pops out from behind Geto in the window.

“There are plenty of places for you two to sit inside. I told you to stop climbing on the roof,” Geto frowns.

“I told you he wouldn’t be happy,” Shoko says unhelpfully.

Feeling like you’re stuck in the middle of some childish spat, (and suddenly anxious to be caught in such close proximity with Gojo), you make moves to untangle yourself from around Gojo’s body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know the roof was off-limits,” you say. “I shouldn’t have followed the Birthday Boy out here.”

Shoko smiles at your comment, ducking back into the kitchen as Geto reaches his hand out for you to take. Geto’s hand is warm and strong in yours, but Gojo’s cold hands support your waist as you make the treacherous step from the roof onto the windowsill.

Getting back into the house is much easier with Geto’s help than climbing out was, and the warmth of the party inside has blood rushing to your cheeks. You didn’t realize how cold you were out there, but now you can feel the chill in your fingertips and the end of your nose.

Geto helps move you out of the way as Gojo practically swings back into the kitchen, his hands grasping the upper window frame as he enters the kitchen feet-first. He lands on the tile with a huff and another pout, his cheeks and nose are tinged pink from the cold.

“You guys are no fun.”

“You’re welcome to utilize any space in my home, except for the roof,” Geto says, and Gojo rolls his eyes. Geto turns to look at you, “Your friend was looking for you. I think he wants to leave.”

“He’s not talking with Utahime anymore?” you ask, frowning, and Geto shakes his head.

That’s disappointing news, and you’ll have to find out what happened when you see Nanami. Not that you expected him to invite her back home—he’s not that kind of guy—but you expected the two of them to talk until well into the night.

“Well, thank you for hosting!” you say, smiling up at Geto nervously. “I had a really good time, and happy birthday!” you turn to speak with Gojo and he’s already smiling down at you.

“I’ll see you again,” he says, and you don’t doubt it.

You peer out of the kitchen and into the party in search of Nanami and quickly find him wandering amongst what’s left of the crowd with your jacket over his arm. You offer the trio one last wave and they wish you goodbye by name before you step out of the kitchen to meet up with Nanami.

“Ah, there you are,” he says, and he seems relieved. “I have your coat. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

You take your jacket from Nanami’s hold and throw it over your shoulders, excited to talk with him on your walk home. You try not to look back into the kitchen as you walk past, but you can’t help yourself from giving the room one last, fleeting look over your shoulder.

Geto is scolding Gojo with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Gojo’s giving him another one of his patented puppy-dog pouts, begging for forgiveness with bright pink cheeks from the cold—but Geto isn’t falling for it. You watch with a laugh as Gojo groans in defeat, dramatically rolling his head back with his eyes.

When his face falls forward, his gaze snaps to your retreating form. You disappear around the corner with the memory of Gojo’s grinning face. And he's still wearing that stupid party hat.

You and Nanami walk in silence for half a block before you ask, “So, what happened with Utahime?” your excitement is evident in your tone.

“She’s a very nice girl,” he says, stuffing his hands deep into his coat pockets and tucking his chin against his chest. “I really enjoyed our conversation… thank you for pushing me to speak with her.”

You grin wildly, practically skipping alongside Nanami. “Did you ask for her number?”

“No, I didn’t.”

It feels like all of the excitement is sucked out of your lungs in an instant as you deflate. “What? Kento, you—”

“She asked for mine.”

You look over at Nanami, struggling to process his words. The longer you stare at him, the pinker his cheeks turn—and you don’t think it’s from the cold. It takes a long time for your brain to reconnect to your mouth after you realize he’s blushing.

“Are you going to see her again?” you ask.

"Yes, I hope so.”

You bite back a smile, turning to face forward. The two of you walk in silence for a moment longer and you think back to your conversation on the roof with Satoru Gojo—about soulmates. The concept still feels silly, but as you walk alongside Nanami in the December cold, you can feel the electricity buzzing off of him as he thinks of Utahime.

“I’m really happy for you,” you whisper, and Nanami chuckles.

“Don’t get excited about nothing,” he scolds, but there’s no weight behind his words. “And how was your night? I’m sorry I left you alone for so long.”

“No, it’s ok, I had a good time,” you say. “I ended up talking with Gojo for most of the night.”

Nanami groans. “That man is insufferable. I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”

“He wasn’t that bad.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

[sunflowerhae]

-Forever.

• established relationship!hyuck, sickening sweet fluff, feeding into yalls delusions BAD. I just need haechan something evil yall and with the sadness surrounding the SMAU im writing abt him , I need to share some love.

• main masterlist

♬　 ❛ (｡•̀ᴗ-)✾🐚 ˚　♡　 𐚱

If every word I said could make you laugh,

I’d talk forever

I asked the sky just what we had,

It shown forever

If the song I sing to you could fill your heart with joy,

I’d sing forever

I’d be so happy loving you

Let the love I have for you

Live in your heart and be Forever

Donghyuck needed to stop staring.

At this point it was getting uncomfortable. Not in a “you’re a creep and need to stop looking at me” way, but instead a “my boyfriend is looking straight into my soul with the look that his whole existence is in the palm of my hands and I’m just trying to eat a sandwich” way. You laugh slightly as you finally acknowledge the look on your boyfriend’s face, setting down your lunch as you stare back at him with upraised eyebrows, “can I help you, lover boy?”

He sighs softly, looking down at his untouched food before glancing back up at you. You see the blush on his face - coated across his cheeks like an Aurora borealis in the night sky. He picks at his nails, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say your outgoing, extrovertive, attention needing boyfriend of 3 years was…shy. You stare at the sight, trying to imprint it on your mind; burn it into your memory. Donghyuck continues his gentle gaze with a laugh, “just looking at my beautiful girlfriend - what’s so wrong with that?” You roll your eyes and pick your food back up. If he was going to act weird, you were going to ignore him. After all, these little lunch dates in between the two of yours busy schedules were sometimes the only opportunity for you to intake substance in your jam packed day, so regardless of hyuck’s…unusual…attitude, you’ll continue eating.

You just finished taking a bite of your sandwich, and was currently chewing in peace when Donghyuck suddenly popped a question so insane that it was quite literally the last thing you would ever expect him to ask in a subway at 12:42pm on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, “y/n, will you marry me?”

He watched as your eyes went wide, and the bite in your mouth threatened to kill you as you coughed and reached for your soda. After a good 30 seconds of struggle, with Donghyuck just staring at you with a red face, silently handing you napkins to clean up, you finally managed a, “Thanks,” before continuing with a mumble, “Donghyuck respectfully what the fuck.” It’s not that you didn’t want to marry the man in front of you. In fact, it was only two nights ago that you were scrolling on Pinterest in boredom, saving wedding inspo pics to a board you effectively titled “Y/n and Donghyuck <3”. This, however, was never the way you envisioned him asking you. Ignoring the fact that the both of you were still in college, and had $2,566.12 saved in your bank accounts (collectively) - you also still lived with your roommates, and while you know there’s never a “right time” to tie the knot with your forever person, maybe right now wasn’t that time. You were honestly confused, because this was never really something you and donghyuck talked about. Sure, you had conversations about the future - but to you the future was years down the road when you were both financially ready for that type of thing. You suppose that for Donghyuck, the future was now.

You sat in stilled breath, waiting for your boyfriend’s reply as he looked down, gathering his thoughts. You felt bad - you don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him. You chose this as the moment to reach across the table and grab his hand in yours, softly squeezing it and smiling gently at him when he looks back up at you. With a deep sigh, donghyuck explains, “I’m sorry, I really don’t know where that came from. I wasn’t expecting to ask you that. I just…I don’t know what it is right now but I just felt like I had to ask. I needed to hear what you would say, I guess,” he trails off, connecting his thoughts together again, “you just…you don’t understand what you do to me, y/n.” He blushes again, as you cock your head to the side.

“What do you mean?” He laughs in almost disbelief, as if he can’t believe you don’t see it.

“I think of you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 12 months a year, y/n. I always thought I knew love, I thought I could see it; that I could handle it. But then I met you. You changed my chemistry. You changed who I am as a person. I thought I lived for myself, my future. But as the years have gone by, I realize more and more every day that I really just live for you; your smile, your laugh, your love. I live to have you near me, to have your attention on me. Everytime you talk to me, look at me - even if I think you’re thinking of me - a chill runs up my spine and I feel sick, in the best way. It’s like a drug, what you do to me. I always felt this way about you in some form, and I thought when we first got together that was the most of it. I thought it would calm down and I would get comfortable. But I haven’t, really I haven’t. It’s gotten worse, y/n. I used to think of you a lot, now I think of you every moment; what you’re doing, who you’re with, how soon until you’re with me. I would do anything for you. You could ask me to run across the world, I’d do it. I don’t know what lengths I would go to for you, and I don’t really want to know to be honest. But I do know that the thought of not spending the rest of my life in your gaze, in your arms…that’s no life for me. We don’t have to get married now. But I want to, one day…soon. I want to make sure I have you forever, if you’ll take me.” He finishes with a sigh, sitting back in his chair in relief, like he finally got something off his chest that he was harboring for a while. You can barely see him, what with the tears pouring out of your eyes at a concerning rate. Donghyuck finally finds the courage to look at you, and immediately his own eyes go wide as he leans forward and dabs at your eyes with a clean napkin. You just sit there and let him do so, frozen. Finally, after a minute or so, he finishes and sits back to normal, suddenly anxious as he bites at his nails, “say something, please. I feel like a loser right now.” He laughs softly, obviously uncomfortable with how much emotion he suddenly shared.

“Donghyuck,” you softly exclaim, “I love you so much, I really don’t know what to say. I’ve never had anyone say that about me. I’ve never…” you can’t finish your sentence, the choke in your throat cutting you off. It was Donghyuck’s turn to comfort you, holding your hand tightly as if to say, “it’s okay…I know”. You nod at him, your chin wobbling as you find the strength to finish, “you have me completely, hyuck. I’m never going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow - never. We can take all the time we want, you’ve got me forever.” His smile that spreads at your words is infectious, the both of you staring at each other in a warm glow of love and happiness, feeling complete together. Maybe you won’t get married soon, but it doesn’t matter, because the both of you know that you have forever.

[doumadono]

Emergency request!

Yesterday evening the Aurora borealis was visible where I live, my family went to get a better view but I stayed home. Still, it was visible even from my backyard. But I missed it entirely because I had terrible diarrhea and vomited, and now I feel ugly, gross and unlucky.

The worst part was seeing texts of family and friends saying 'look outside' and 'it's amazing' sent five minutes after getting sick, and later when they got home no one asked if I was okay. The only solace I have is that if I'd gone with my fam I'd have probably shit myself.

Could I please request Shouto comforting me after having to miss something like that due to sickness? Something I "might never get to see again"? He's my comfort character.

If this doesn't qualify as an emergency I totally understand.

Aurora borealis - Shoto x Reader

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear about your difficult evening. It's understandable to feel disappointed, but please know that missing the aurora borealis doesn't make you any less lucky or worthy. Your health and well-being are the most important things. If it's any consolation, I'm sure there will always be more opportunities to witness the beauty of nature ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Shoto sat on the edge of your bed, concern etched into his features as he watched you curled up under the blankets.

Your face was drawn with exhaustion and frustration, the events of the evening clearly weighing heavily on your mind.

He reached out a gentle hand, resting it on your shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing presence in the quiet room. "Are you feeling any better?"

You glanced up at him, the faintest hint of tears glistening in your eyes. "It was supposed to be so beautiful," you murmured, your voice tinged with disappointment. "I've always wanted to see it, and now I might never get the chance again. And no, my tummy still hurts."

Shoto's heart ached at the sadness in your voice. He knew how much you had been looking forward to witnessing the natural wonder, and it pained him to see you feeling so downcast. But he also knew that there were more important things than seeing a celestial display. "What matters most right now is that you take care of yourself."

You sighed, leaning into his touch as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I just feel so… ugly and gross," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as a single tear rolled down your reddened cheek. "I feel so unlucky," you confessed, your voice tinged with sadness.

Shoto's grip tightened ever so slightly, his warmth a comforting presence against your skin. "You're not ugly or gross, baby," he said firmly, placing a kiss to your temple. "You're human, and sometimes our bodies don't cooperate the way we want them to. It's okay to feel disappointed, but please don't be so hard on yourself." Shoto's hand gently brushed against your hair, his touch soothing. "As I said, your health comes first, always."

You sniffled, a tear slipping down your cheek as you leaned into Shoto's embrace. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "You're the best boyfriend."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. "Anytime," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet room.

After leaving your shared bedroom where you were resting, Shoto's mind raced as he thought of a way to bring the beauty of the Aurora borealis to you, even though you couldn't witness it in person.

Remembering Denki Kaminari, your common friend from U.A. times, was a streamer, he quickly reached out to him. Shoto pulled out his phone and dialed Denki's number. After a few rings, Denki finally answered.

"Hey, Todoroki! What's up?" Denki's cheerful voice came through the line.

"Hey, Denki. I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I have a favor to ask," Shoto replied, trying to keep his tone steady.

"Of course, man! What do you need?" Denki responded, sounding genuinely interested.

"Well, you see, the Aurora borealis is visible tonight, and… well, my girlfriend is feeling really sick and couldn't come out to see it. And since you're frequently streaming on YouTube, I was wondering if you could stream it on your channel so she could watch it from home?" Shoto explained, feeling a bit awkward.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Denki spoke again. "Wow, that sounds like a great idea! I'd be happy to help out! Let me jus finish my gameplay! Just give me a few minutes to set everything up, okay?"

Relief flooded through Shoto as he thanked Denki profusely. "Thank you so much, Kaminari. This means a lot to me and Y/N. I owe you one."

"No problem at all, Todoroki. Just glad I can help out. I'll let you know when the stream is up and running," Denki replied, his enthusiasm evident in his voice.

With a grateful smile, Shoto ended the call, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.

After some time, Todoroki returned to your shared bedroom with his laptop and a cup of freshly brewed mint. He passed you the cup and turned his computer on and navigated to YouTube.

"What are you doing, Shoto?" you asked, puzzled by his sudden actions as you slowly sat up, wrapping blanket around your shoulder, still feeling a little nauseous.

"Just wait and see," he replied with a small smile, his eyes focused on the screen.

Then, to your surprise, you saw Denki's stream pop up on the screen, the vivid colors of the Aurora borealis dancing across the display.

"Is that…?" you started, but Shoto cut you off with a nod.

"Yeah, it's Denki. He's streaming it live for you," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and understanding. "I asked him if he could do that, and he agreed instantly. It's handy having a friend who's a YouTuber," Shoto chuckled softly.

As the night sky painted itself in shades of violet, teal, and emerald, the ethereal dance of the Aurora Borealis began. The camera panned slowly, capturing every mesmerizing movement of the celestial phenomenon. The colors shifted and swirled, creating intricate patterns that seemed to come alive before your eyes. As the stream continued, the intensity of the auroras seemed to grow, casting an enchanting glow over the landscape below. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches silhouetted against the shifting colors of the sky. Occasionally, a shooting star streaked across the heavens, adding an extra touch of magic to the already mesmerizing scene.

The chat buzzed with excitement as viewers shared their awe and wonder at the natural spectacle, asking Kaminari for his opinion as well.

You couldn't believe it. The beauty of the phenomenon filled you with awe, and tears welled up in your eyes as you realized what Shoto had done for you. "Shoto, I don't know what to say," you whispered, overcome with emotion.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I just wanted you to experience this, even if you couldn't be there in person. You mean everything to me, and I'll always go the extra mile to make you happy."

[janzoo]

FFXIVGlamtober2024 Day 9

🐉Melee🌌

Here's Drakyr's current DRG glam. During Heavensward, she leaned pretty heavily into her status as Azure Dragoon #2. This was in large part to aid in getting Ishgard's overall acceptance - to counter all of the factors working against her, like being an outsider and an Au Ra. To differentiate her from Estinien, and because of her dark blue skin/scales, people started calling her the Midnight Dragoon.

The Majestic Manderville Spear just tops it all off, as the colourful glow effect looks a lot like the aurora borealis. The glam used to use the Ravel Keeper's maiming set, but I switched to the DT equivalents for the extra dye channels. I figured that long feather at the back would look cool trailing behind her as she jumped about.

✨FFXIVGlamtober2024 Masterlist🌠

Glam details in the readmore~

If I don't mention a dye, there isn't one.

Weapon: Majestic Manderville Spear (Replica) Head: Heirloom Circlet of Maiming (Dye: Soot Black) Body: Cobalt Tungsten Vest of Maiming (Dyes: Soot Black, Midnight Blue) Hands: Br'aaxskin Armlets of Maiming (Dyes: None, Midnight Blue) Legs: Sarcenet Kecks of Maiming (Dyes: Soot Black, Midnight Blue) Feet: Auri Buskins (Dyes: Soot Black, None) Earrings: Hardsilver Earrings of Gathering Neck: Mythril Choker Wrist: Empty/Emperor's Right Ring: Master Lancer's Ring Left Ring: Augmented Shire Custodian's Ring

[gingiesworld]

Random Compliments

Main Masterlist

Lizzie Olsen X Fem Reader

Warnings: Just Fluff

18+ MINORS DNI

Lizzie's pov

Y/N has been working with the marvel xast for 3 months now and they are honestly a breath of fresh air. But they also make me blush so hard.

"Did you know kiwi's now my favourite fruit." Y/N said as she sat beside me on the sofa in the break room. Making me giggle.

"Why?" I asked with a smile as I looked at her amused.

"Because kiwis are refreashing and sweet. Just like looking in your eyes." She smirked as I laughed.

"That was way too corny." I told her as we both laughed. And that was just the start of it. She didn't care if she was saying these things infront of other cast members either.

----

"Your smile is the most beautiful thing anyone would ever see. More beautiful than the Aurora Borealis." She said making me blush before she walked away with a victory smile.

"She's upped her game." Scar smirked at my blushing face.

----

"I love seeing you happy because your eyes shine brighter than a winter's sun." She said sweetly as she tucked a stray hair behind my hair. "Also hearing you laugh is as refreshing as the summer rain." She said before she walked away. She truly has improved her flirting skills 

"Fuck me." I breathed out with a laugh as I watched her walk away.

----

"You have the most purest heart that would even make the angels cry."  She said as she stood beside me before she walked away like nothing happened.

"I definitely am captain of this ship." Scar teased me making me cover my face with my hands.

----

"You have the most beautiful hair, it's like strands of gold that shines in the sun." She said before walking away making the butterflies swarm in my stomach.

"You definitely need to get her off the market before I steal her." Scar said before we went back to work.

----

"You may be known as the other Olsen, but you are the most beautiful Olsen to me." She said with a soft look in her eyes.

"Seriously?" I whispered to Scar as we watched as Y/N walked away.

"She really likes you Liz, just ask her out." Scar told me before she walked away.

----

I watched as Y/N walked up to me with a single daisy in her hand. She stood extremely close as she placed it in my hair before she looked in my eyes.

"The most beautiful and purest flower of the earth." She said as she cupped my cheek and walked away. The guys stood there and watched the blush on my face.

"She definitely needs to teach me how to flirt." Chris Evans said making everyone laugh.

----

"If I was lucky enough to hold you in my arms in a previous life. I would be even luckier to hold you close to me in this life." She smiled softly at me. I couldn't hold it in anymore before walking up to her as she walked away. I gripped her wrist making her turn to face me.

"Then hold me." I told her as I closed the gap and kissed her softly. She held me onto me, afraid to let go.

"I'll hold you for as long as you will let me." She smiled before I pulled her back in, our lips meeting in a loving kiss. Ignoring our surroundings, creating our own world in this moment.

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 5 - Imperfections

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, mentions of alcohol, hangover, domestic fluff, light angst, insecure/intrusive thoughts

☆ Word Count: 7.3k

You’ll have to thank Toji later for whatever he put in your drink if you can even remember this when the time comes.

After your return to the group, the next while was spent being centerstage with the trio ─ now dubbed the quartet or “Gang” with your addition to their circle of friends.

They had wanted to hear every little moment from the day you met Toji up to now, preaching about how you should make a move already. Of course, they sulk when you remind them that you aren’t aware of his relationship status, but then they go and beg you to ask already and see where you stand.

At some point they started having their own back and forth discussions trying to come up with plans on how to help you out. Satoru thinks a direct approach might be best, rip the bandage off as he put it to which Shoko argues to be more indirect to save you from any potential hurt feelings. Suguru, being the voice of reason, believes that whatever the case ─ it’s Toji’s life to tell and you should wait until he’s ready.

The more they carry on, the more you find yourself lost on your drink, eventually giving the margarita another shot when your first glass emptied. Suddenly, the taste is nothing like you remember. In fact, you don’t taste much of anything given how numb your mouth has gotten thanks to nature of alcohol at play.

Your eyes stare upwards in a daze after polishing that second drink off. The neon shades of purple and red that streak across the ceiling mesh together in a lovely, yet blurring way that you’ve come to refer to as an “aurora borealis”. Who knew indoor stargazing could make for a wonderful experience?

“Helloooo…?” a voice calls out that you’re barely able to register amongst the noise occupying your ears. “You still with us?” the voice speaks once more.

“Satoru, I think you let her drink too much,” another comments.

“Don’t blame me! She’s only had two drinks…”

“You should get me two more,” pleads a third.

The second interrupts the bantering of the other two, “I think we’ve all had enough for one night ─ you especially, Shoko, since you have work tomorrow.”

A hand falls to your shoulder, nudging you back to reality. Satoru and Suguru exit the booth, helping you up to your feet alongside Shoko who’s somehow steady in heels despite having drunk more than everyone combined.

“Sho,” you drawl out in the form of a murmur, clinging to her side for stability.

“I know, hun, we’ll get you home soon,” she assures, spinning her head back to the men. “I’ll take her from here.” She winks. “You two just wait for me outside.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The two nod with a knowing glance to each other, turning on their heel to make their leave after wishing you a good night.

“Where we goin’?” You hiccup, proving once again the state you’re in.

Shoko doesn’t have much of any time to answer before your eyes make contact with a pair of green, inciting joy from within you.

“Toji Toji!” you babble excitedly, lips stretching far and wide in a smile.

Needless to say, it takes the man by surprise as evident with his raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. He places the glassware he was cleaning down in its respective spot. “All done for the night?” he asks, placing his palms down on the countertop.

“Yesshir!” you mock salute.

Immediately, he laughs through his nose. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re drunk, but he’s surprised at how little alcohol it took to get you like this. Not only that, but this new, unreserved side of you.

Toji’s used to your reclusive, stuttering nature, the mask you wear like a shield in public. He knows this partly because of what he hears through the walls that separate your homes at times, things he won’t ever call out to embarrass you.

But right here, right now?

You’re that same bubbling ball of joy, but more so now that the alcohol has seemed to turn your thinking off.

This is how you should be ─ alcohol aside.

“She made a mention about you giving her a ride home…?” Shoko comments, taking in the man at the center of your attraction with her own thorough eyes.

Toji’s head turns towards a younger man further down the bar. “Choso!” he calls out, already slipping his small apron off from his waist. “Taking my break, I’ll be back soon.” He steps out from behind the bar, offering with his hands to take the woman’s place in keeping you upright.

“Take care of her now, you hear?” She winks, stretching up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “I hear you’re quite the gentlemen with her, keep it up.”

He snorts, watching her make her leave for a second before his eyes are back on you while you’re staring off at the ceiling with wonder. One hand settles comfortably at your waist while the other rests over yours that clings to his side.

With deft hands, he guides you towards the back entrance of the club, grabbing his coat along the way. “Come along then princess, your chariot awaits.” The words come out low, like a rumble or a purr.

You smile up at him having caught his words. “If I’m the princess, then that makes you my knight in shining armor,” you giggle, holding onto him more tightly now.

“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffs, “I’d like to hear you say that when you’re not drunk off your ass.”

“Hey, I only had two drinks!” you refute.

“I know.” He smirks. “I made them after all. But you, my dear, are a lightweight.”

His hand leaves yours for a moment to push the heavy door open to the outside world. The chilling winds send a shiver throughout your body, but the heat that radiates from Toji lulls you closer than ever.

He gets you to his car, carefully placed down in the passenger seat. Toji sees you recoil from the cold of the seats, choosing to drape his jacket over your legs, fastening the seatbelts before coming around to the driver’s side.

He shakes his head with a smile as he settles down, turning the car on with the press of a button. There’s a fleeting thought in his head to forgo the seat warmers when he’s met with how you’re enjoying his coat. You’re snuggling it up to your body, even going so far as to ─ shamelessly ─ inhale the fabric.

If you weren’t wasted, he wouldn’t catch you dead doing this in front of him. He won’t tease you over it, not now at the very least. Toji is more than happy to let you be your complete self, so long as he’s able to see more of this side of you that you so desperately lock away.

The drive home is quiet as he opts to not play anything on the radio as usual, letting only the sounds of his engine fill the silence. His eyes wander to you at times, while your own aimlessly stare up at the passing streetlights as though they were the stars themselves.

“You have fun tonight?” he asks abruptly, causing you to flinch from the sudden noise. It’s proving difficult for you to remain awake.

“Yeah, I did!” You grin with excitement, lighting up the car like you’re the sun itself.

“Hope you know your head’s gonna feel like shit come tomorrow,” he teases.

“I haven’t had fun like or with friends in a looong time.” The words come out with a darker undertone than you meant, but you’re also not in the headspace to be mindful about it.

Either way, they end up brewing in Toji’s head far longer than they did in yours. A question looms on the tip of his tongue, when do you hang out with others?

As far he’s aware living right next-door, you never have guests over and if he’s heard you on the phone it was always obvious they were work calls and never anything more. About the only reason you appear to leave your house is for said work or getting groceries.

Who do you spend time with socially? Do you even have other friends?

He hates himself for prying, it’s not something he’s proud to do, but there’s a curiosity he wishes to satisfy. “Has work been keeping you too busy for your other friends?”

At first you reply with a noncommittal hum, letting the gears move around in your head. When you do finally speak, it’s with your head turned back to the window instead of his way, “I don’t…have anyone besides…” Your hand comes out in front of you to keep count with your fingers. “…You, ‘Gumi, my new friends ─ I guess Nanamin counts even though he’s my boss.”

Internally, he sighs with relief that you think of him as a friend and not just your neighbor. It also looks to him that you’re not seeing anyone romantically at the moment which is another less thing to worry about for his own conflicted reasonings.

He slows the car to a stop for a red light at an intersection, mulling over this newfound information in his head to the clicking of his turn signal. Should he continue his questioning? Is the traffic light a sign he should give it a rest?

Toji has never been one to believe in signs or omens, but with some of the unexpected events of today, he starts to wonder if this is a warning he needs to be aware of.

Ultimately, he shrugs it off. It’s a stop light for heaven’s sake. Whether you remember any of this in the morning would be a miracle anyways, not that he’s out here asking for top secret information like your social security number.

The light flashes green and he decides to pop his next question, “Are you lonely?”

“Sometimes,” you tell him after a short pause. He sees your head fall to your lap, toying with the drawstrings of his jacket between your fingers. “I’m just used to it, I guess. I like my solitude.” Little do you know; he understands that all too well and more.

For a long time, he was the same.

Growing up with little to no attention in the ways that matter. Coming to believe isolation was the answer for self-preservation ─ to protect his heart. There are times he still feels that way today, but there’s one blessing in his life he never would have gotten if it weren’t for giving himself a chance and taking that leap of faith he did, years ago.

Loneliness breeds a darkness he once welcomed as a friend. He knows now it was anything but ─ just malevolent thoughts whispering a means to an end and nothing more.

If that’s as much the case for you as it was for him, then maybe it’s his turn to become a source of light.

He’s quiet the rest of the way home, watching when he can of how you purposefully fog the glass, drawing a rough depiction of a cat with your finger. In your head, it’s almost that of a masterpiece, but it’s missing something.

A quick swipe of your nail over the edge of its lips is all the cat needed to be perfect in your eyes. It’s ironic given that scars are viewed as imperfections. A “blemish” that can make or break something, or someone.

But not yourself.

Pretty soon the familiar brick building you both call home appears, and he pulls the car into his spot. You’ve sobered up some from the drive, now fighting off a losing battle with the sleep your body craves as Toji tries to get you from your seat onto two legs.

The stairs leading up to the fourth floor are a daunting task, but not with someone capable who’s also built like a Greek god by your side. The hardest task proves to be finding your keys from your purse, eventually letting Toji do the honors of unlocking the door after several fumbled attempts of your own. Once open, Tsumiki is right there meowing away.

“Tsumi!” you croon, almost falling to floor as you try and kneel to her level. Luckily, Toji’s quick reflexes save you from harm, pulling you back up into his side.

“Time for bed, princess,” he declares, moving you down the hall. He’s thankful you aren’t protesting, simply allowing him to lay you down on your cloud. It was a smart move on your part to wear a lazy, casual fit. No need to stress over trying to sleep in restricting fabric like denim or tight dresses.

Toji may not be a perfect person, with a laundry list of things he regrets doing in his life, but nowhere in his morally gray mind would he take to stripping you out of your everyday clothes unless absolutely necessary at this stage of your relationship.

“Hey ‘Oji?” you mumble out the words amidst a yawn.

He huffs with amusement, enjoying the dreamy expression you make, reminding him of how Megumi acts when it’s his bedtime. Cute.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your eyes are already shut before he can say anything more, but that doesn’t stop him. “Anytime, princess.” He raises the sheets up and over your form, murmuring, “Sleep tight.”

Toji remains at your bedside for some time, returning the favor with his own shameless attempt at watching you sleep, blissfully unaware. The way your chest slowly rises and falls with every breath and the soft snores that accompany; it calms him. With him, you look so at peace and free of any anxieties that plague you.

He wishes he could see you like this more.

The afternoon light creeps into your room, stirring your body awake like some twisted version of a morning glory. One of the perks of having a western facing window in your bedroom for night owl like yourself to sleep the day away.

As promised, you have the next few days off to rest and recover after the grueling weeks of preparation for the shoot. And while your phone may not be sounding off a cruel symphony of noise to wake you, that doesn’t mean you’re safe. No, not when you have a separate alarm that walks on four paws and meows, prodding at you to feed her.

Although… Tsumiki is being unusually calm as far as “mornings” go for you.

Instead of crushing your stomach and ribs, she’s choosing to stretch out her little limbs on your body, suckling away on the blanket draped over you.

You lean up, reaching out your own lazy hand to pet her. “Tsumiaah-fuck,” you groan out in pain at the sudden stabbing sensation piercing through your skull. The pressure is enough to send your head right back into the pillow, which you do, but not without a sour expression.

While blindly navigating your hand to your nightstand, you find that your phone isn’t in its designated spot. With a straining effort, you pry your eyes open to reveal that in place of your phone is a piece of a paper held down by a bottle of pills and a glass of water.

“Drink up if you want to feel better sooner, princess.-Your ‘Knight in Shining Armor’”

“…My what?”

Back to the pillows you go, taking a spare to throw over your face to save you from the embarrassment. The soft golden hues of the light are normally welcomed with joy, but now have you rethinking about investing in some heavy blackout curtains.

A heavy sigh escapes you with a rumbling groan after, “What the fuck did I do last night…”

You try and think back to the events of the night before, only to come up short ─ thanks to the wincing pain your head is putting you through. Vaguely, you remember the fun you had with the group of three, followed by Toji taking you home, but everything else comes up with a gaussian blur filtering overtop.

So, you decide right here and now to make a binding vow with yourself to save you from this happening again.

Never get drunk again. Better yet, avoid any alcohol lest you set yourself up for trouble.

Swallowing the pills is the first thing you do when finally decide to sit up, following up with a drink of water. You’re not in the position to care about the overnight quality, just that anything is welcome when your throat is as dry as the Sahara desert.

Next on your plans is a trip to the bathroom, opting to get into the shower right away. You stop short of the mirror however, noticing yet another enigma. “No makeup? Huh…” The artist had your face pretty caked up and yet, there’s zero evidence of it now. You’re not even sure you do this good of a job while you’re awake let alone how you managed this when you were borderline blackout drunk.

Tsumiki is hardly in a rush to get her breakfast either, more fascinated by the birds outside than she is to paw at your ankles to hurry up already. This inevitably gives you a harsh reminder that while her cabinets remain full and plentiful with food, yours are greatly overdue for some shopping.

All that work and no play has left you opting for takeout deliveries over putting any actual effort into your meals and now your fridge is sufferingly empty. May as well get it over with now on your day off.

You get changed into one of your comfy outfits for the fall weather. Another day of not going too crazy with your looks, still feeling plenty bit tired, but nothing a nap later won’t fix.

Hanging up by your front door is your purse you had used yesterday, which you find has your phone buried inside still. It could use a good charge, but there’s enough for you at least scan over all the missed messages, mainly from Shoko wanting to make sure you got home safely and how you’re feeling.

After some quick apologies for the delayed responses, you shove it back into the same purse to take your leave, but not without grabbing a granola bar so you’d have something on your stomach with the pills.

Once outside, you’re hit with the pungent smell of smoke that can only mean one thing ─ fate has again chosen to weave you in with scarlet-colored webs.

With the sound of the heavy doors closing behind you, the man looks over his shoulder. The scarred corner of his lip moves upward, while exhaling a gray plume of smoke. “Morning princess, how’re you feelin’?” he asks before taking another drawn out hit from his cigarette.

Your cheeks begin to fill with heat, even going so far as to make you forget the hangover you’re suffering from. “That was your note then?” you muse, despite the faint memory that yes, he did take you home so it should be obvious.

Toji chuckles, “Ouch.” He feigns feeling hurt with a hand over his heart. “You don’t remember? Don’t worry, I figured you wouldn’t,” he teases, but there’s almost a solemn feeling lacing his words.

You move down a few steps to his side, your nose crinkling at the toxic air flowing around. Toji, being the chivalrous man he is to you, is already snuffing out the flame on the concrete away from you.

“Thanks for taking me home, I hope I didn’t give you a hard time,” you say, while carefully avoiding his gaze to save you from further embarrassment.

It’s a futile effort, as his words do exactly that, “Not at all, it was a treat.” He winks despite your aversion to his eyes. Your head falls into your knees and there’s a moment you consider turning tail right then and there to flee, but thankfully his next words aren’t meant to tease. “Where are you off to? You want a ride?”

You debate the idea in your head. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you, I’m just heading out to the store,” you answer lightly.

“It’s no trouble, doll. I gotta go out anyways to pick up the kid from school,” he tells you.

It would be nice to not have to walk, especially when the weather of today offers enough wind to make your outfit choice feel obsolete. “Are you sure?” The last thing you want is to be a burden.

“Positive,”he assures with an air of confidence, standing to his full height now, with one hand dangling his keys in the space between you both. “Now come on before I leave you out here,” he urges nonchalantly.

You know he’s not serious, but you don’t risk it either way. He shakes his head, making a sign of amusement as you speed walk up to his side. When you open the passenger door, there’s a spark that hits your memory from the jacket that rests on the seat. As if it’s the most natural thing to do, you hike the fabric up to your chest as you settle down inside, averting your face to the window when Toji catches you in the act.

The car turns on without a comment regarding it from the man, pulling out from the lot no sooner after. To make the silence worse, your stomach decides that this is the perfect time to put on a show, declaring your lack of a proper meal. Just like that, you suck your lip in, pulling your hand up to hide your face.

You hope he didn’t hear it, but luck only goes so far. “I take it you haven’t eaten yet?” he inquires, because of course he would hear it. The car is dead silent save for the roar of the engine but even that wasn’t enough to cover it up.

Defeatedly, you sigh, “Just a granola bar.” You shrug, dropping the hand from your face. “Work’s been so busy, that’s why I’m out shopping now.”

You have half a mind to say something along the lines of “And no, I’m not letting you pay for my groceries again,” the second you hear him humming in thought.

What actually comes out of his mouth is a different idea. “You want to join us for dinner?” he offers. “Kid’s been begging for pancakes, so I said I’d take him to a diner tonight.” The words produce a tantalizing thought, falsely filling your senses with the aroma of syrup and creams, and every other breakfast delight.

“I’d love that actually, but on one condition.”

“Uh oh,” he starts, but can’t fight the smirk tugging at his lips. “Name your price,” he demands, and that you do.

“I’ll be the one paying this time,” you state confidently. “As thanks for getting me home last night.”

Toji laugh is deep and hearty. “You can pay for Megs and me if you really want to,” he stresses those words, showing his subtle discontent. “But I’ll be buying yours and I don’t want to hear any complaints. I invited you; I’ll be treating you.”

You take the win, knowing there will be more opportunities in the future considering all that he’s done for you. “Deal,” you reply affirmingly.

“Good girl,” he mutters out, not even giving you a chance to react when for the first time in your history of being in his car, the radio comes on. But hey, now you get to hear what his taste in music is. If the station is anything to go by, then the answer to the question you’ve been dying to know is that he’s into rock. “Divorced dad rock” as the internet so kindly puts it for early 2000s classics.

Between that thought and the praise kink you’re starting to feel you have, your eyes now meander their way to the left hand that sits idle on the shifter.

Although the vehicle is automatic, with the exception of the sport mode, he keeps a loose grip over the leather with the occasional tapping of his pointer. His ring finger happens to be devoid of the characteristic ring that proclaims his availability to the world.

If he is divorced, that would explain the missing ring on top of his reason to move in recent times and with a kid no less, but that doesn’t mean he’s not seeing anyone either. For all you know, he could be of the mindset that marriage of just a slip of paper, one he might not feel he ever needs if his love is enough.

Rings aside, your eyes continue their journey across his hands. They’re great in size, even carrying evidence of faded scars beneath the rough textures. Another key feature are the cobweb of veins that run along the backside, flexing with every action. You can’t help but wonder how they’d look arou–

“Something wrong, doll? I can feel you staring.”

Oops, busted.

“Oh, no, sorry.” Your laugh comes out dry, a forced effort on your part that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Just looking around is all,” you double down. He responds with a laugh of his own through his nose, and if you were looking at him, you’d notice the wolfish grin.

Considering your apartment was already closer to the outskirts of the city than the downtown area, it doesn’t take all that long to arrive at the foothills of a school close to the nearby mountains labeled Tokyo Tech. A private school by the looks of it. Everything just screams historical with little effort to modernize any structure on the property, but it’s quite charming.

Toji tells you along the way up to the main hall that the school handles kids of all ages, making it the ideal location for Megumi to grow up in an environment geared towards him and provides consistency in his life. One thing you eventually will come to learn is important to this family. The few students you pass by all have their own uniforms too, most of which almost seems tailored to each individual student.

You can’t even begin to imagine the tuition price, but it makes you respect Toji more. Yeah, he’s got a sports car and his kid’s in private school, but then you think about the likelihood of him being a single father who chose to live in the same dingy apartment as you. In a way, it shows that he has his priorities straight, mainly when it comes to giving Megumi a good life.

You’re afraid to get lost in such a piece of land so you stay as close to Toji as you can. The free hand of his that rocks back and forth with each step is more than enticing to grab, but you refrain. Seeing is enough, you tell yourself, for now at least.

He stops short of one of the classrooms, sliding the door open to reveal exactly what you’d expect from a kindergarten. Megumi, who’s sitting near the back lights up upon seeing not only his father, but you as well. He can’t contain himself from trotting over and wrapping himself around your leg.

“Hey ‘Gumi,” you croon, kneeling to his level. You’re unable to resist the urge when you see his hair, reaching out like the pull of a magnet to rough it up.

He reaches up with both arms to grab your hand, urging you to follow him. All the while, Toji stands there shocked. “What, no love for your dad?” He pouts but shrugs it off to follow after while groaning, “I’m standin’ right here too.”

You flash Toji a look conveying sympathy but truthfully, he’s unbothered. His feigned scowl has dissipated and replaced by usual calm demeanor, albeit with the hint of a smile.

Megumi takes you to his desk where he’s been hard at work coloring. He pans through the stack of papers with underlying excitement, showing you them all. Some had various animals on them while others feature kaijus in the movies you watched together. Your favorite in the pile however, has to be the one showcasing Megumi and his father together. Their expressions are portrayed nearly identical to each other; Toji’s being spot on.

“You made all these yourself? They’re amazing!” you exclaim, proudness dripping from your words.

Toji comes up behind you, leaning over to see what’s got you so excited. He can’t help but smile either, patting his son on the head. “Kid’s a damn good artist, ain’t he?”

His smile only gets wider, and more annoying when you reprimand him. A light backhand to his thigh that takes him by surprise. “Don’t curse around all these kids!” you scold.

“Yo Megumi! Is that your mom?” A new voice yells out, which you follow back to a boy with pink-colored hair. He comes running up to you alongside a chestnut-haired girl of the same age.

Megumi has a questionable look on his face and remains quiet while you choose to answer in place. “Hi there,” you begin, introducing yourself by name to the two, “I’m actually his neighbor,” you tell them after.

A look of realization comes over the two from your words, and they glance at each other in shock. “Ohh, you’re the rabbit girl!” He bellows happily, and internally you wince. Is that how you’re being introduced? “My name’s Yuji.”

“Woah, you were right, Megumi. She is pretty,” the girl comments and the two begin to look at you with stars in their eyes.

“You must be…Nobara, right?” you question, hoping your memory serves correctly from when Toji had mentioned the names of Megumi’s friends.

“Yup, that’s me!” she answers, pointing her thumb at herself.

You beam at the two, matching their enthusiasm. “It’s good to meet some of Megumi’s friends.”

Yuji and Nobara then proceed to chat your ear off, and all the while you can see how they became friends with Megumi. As quiet or introverted as he can be, these two extroverts have essentially “adopted” him into their now-triangle. You’re starting to relate to that same feeling now with Satoru and the gang, and you couldn’t be happier.

All the while, Toji has been putting his focus on gathering all his son’s belongings into his backpack, flinging it over his shoulder effortlessly upon completion. “Ready to go, Megs?” he interrupts, receiving a nod in response.

“Bye, Megumi!” The two kids wave goodbye to you and Megumi, the latter taking your hand to leave, waving back to his friends. Both you and Toji match the boy’s pace on the way to the car, where just like the last time you were together, you help him up into his car seat. Once everyone is good, Toji starts the car and takes off to the nearest diner.

Megumi can hardly contain his joy upon realization that you’re joining him and his father for dinner. So much so that he pulls you to sit at his side in the booth while Toji sits across from you both. He had brought in one of his artworks from school and is continuing his work using the crayons given to him by the waiter.

Like father, like son ─ they both request milk with their meals. The similarity ends there however, as Megumi orders the stack of pancakes he’s been craving while Toji orders a selection of meats, eggs, and toast. You order some pancakes to match with Megumi, with some fruit on the side, and your drink of choice.

You converse with him for a short bit as Megumi is busy coloring away, only slowing down in topics when the food arrives. Toji can’t bring himself to look away from the sight of you helping his son pour the syrup, wiping off any messes he makes on himself like a mother would. It was then that you notice his stillness, not even having taken a first bite yet of his meal.

“Everything okay, Toji?” you gingerly approach the subject.

There’s a moment of silence before he seems to snap from his reverie, uttering a simple, “Yeah.” He no sooner grabs his utensils and begins to eat. “Just happy is all,” he adds, a soft smile gracing his face up until he stuffs it with one big bite.

You can’t help but feel amused. “You really like meat, don’t you?” you muse, remembering how he was with the stir-fry dinner.

“I don’t go a meal without it,” he tells you, sneaking a forkful of your pancakes from under you. You feign a gasp, taking your own prize from his plate. You’re paying for it after all, just like he’s doing for yours. “I’m sure your cat can agree. She wouldn’t stop purring over my choice of beef and chicken over that turkey vegetable crap you got.” His tone is playfully mocking.

Realization hits you. “Wait, you fed Tsumiki last night for me?” It’s no wonder why she was so calm earlier, letting you sleep in and all. You don’t give him the chance to reply before thanking him, “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. It was easy enough.” He shrugs, taking a few sips from his drink. “She led me right to her stuff after I put you to bed. Gave me quite an earful with that mouth of hers,” he snorts.

The sound of a fork hitting ceramic startles you both, and you turn to Megumi who appears on the verge of tears. “You played without me?” he asks between sniffles.

Toji’s answer comes quick, “Sorry Megs, you weren’t awake.” But it doesn’t make him feel any better.

You’re quick to wrap your arm around him, rubbing smooth shapes onto his arm while he clings to you. “No fair,” he murmurs into the fabric of your shirt.

“Hey, hey, you got me here now, don’t you?” you coo to him. “I’m sure we can find some time soon to do something, maybe without your dad as payback,” you tease, side-eying the man also fixing to pout.

Megumi nods into you, eventually letting you go to resume his meal and whatever he’s still coloring. Crisis averted, you both think to yourselves. A lot of the previous night still remains a blur in your head, and you can’t help the budding curiosity from blooming. “So… what was the whole ‘knight in shining armor’ thing about, anyways?”

He snorts again, making you feel antsy as he takes his sweet time chewing his food. “Believe it or not, that was your idea.”

“Seriously?”

“I called you princess and that’s what you came up with for me in return.” You feel red in your face, lowering your head out of the sheer embarrassment drunk you caused. Toji on the other hand thinks it’s funny.

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything else that was weird…” You don’t know how you’d be able to survive if you did.

“Who knows?” That annoying grin returns to him and now your only thought is crawling under a rock. “I thought it was cute though,” he suddenly remarks, causing you to lift your eyes to meet his that then wink. “You’re one of the better drunks I’ve dealt with.”

Kill me now.

Silence envelopes the booth, the only noise you hear being that of your utensils and other patrons. Toji may be comfortable with the quiet, but you feel it to be awkward, proven when you catch Megumi’s eyes wandering upwards between you and his father.

“Were those friends you were with models as well?” Toji eventually asks.

“No.” You shake your head. “Just the one, Satoru,” you say, taking a bite of some fruit.

He scoffs, “The unicorn?” You confirm with a nod this time.

“The other guy, Suguru, is a tattoo artist, and then Shoko’s working to become a medical examiner.” There’s a hum that follows to acknowledge your words, followed by another bite of his meal.

“What got you into modeling?” he inquires. His eyebrows knit together curiously.

You don’t answer right away, and it takes all of what feels like an eternity to formulate your thoughts. There are many different ways you could answer, half of which ultimately might make it look as if you want pity.

You don’t.

Your fingers trail through Megumi’s hair, toying with the raven locks as form of stress relief. A simple gesture, one that helps to keep your emotions grounded.

“I used to have this one friend that went to modeling classes after school,” you begin with your eyes still focused on the boy. It’s never the easiest to talk about yourself, even if there’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Scars from the past that have never truly healed.

“She invited me along a few times, saying how it’d be good for me, and all the good things it did for her,” you emphasize, sighing softly. “After a while, I was able to give it a try and that’s where I had met my agent who recruited me the day I graduated.”

Toji’s reply is calm, “That must’ve been nice, it’s not often you’re guaranteed a job straight out of school.”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Mr. Nanami’s been great to me and I’m thankful for all his help.”

You give Megumi one final ruffle of his hair before your hand leaves his head to take a bite from your meal. There’s a tremble that’s nearly noticeable if you look hard enough, and the skin around your hands feels colder, clammy even.

“The shoot you had yesterday.” He pauses, taking off a chunk of meat between his teeth, leaving you in suspense yet again. “I’d like to see them when they come out. Bet they’re real pretty,” he muses.

If making someone flustered is a love language, then that’s most certainly his.

But then you feel that cold sweat sticking to your skin once again. Why?

He hasn’t openly judged you for anything, but would that change if he knew more of you? The you, hidden away behind a dozen doors, the parts of your life you’ve never told another soul about.

Or what about the previous modeling you’ve done? The magic performed by editors and makeup artists to erase every blemish, morph your body into something unrecognizable by your own eyes.

It’s only now you’re beginning to realize how highly you value his opinion. The closeness you’re achieving with him, and all the feelings mixed in that you never thought you’d have a chance to even feel in your life.

You want him to like you.

You don’t want him to leave like others have done.

But then there’s the intrusive side of your head that tells you how easy it is to call someone pretty, and even easier to lie about it. It makes you wonder if that’s the type of person he is, and then you hate yourself for even thinking like that when there’s been nothing to warrant it.

Maybe it’d be easier to rip the bandage off and find out. Show him the intimate parts of your life now so you don’t get your hopes up if he wants to step away from your life.

And so, you make your decision. “The ones from yesterday have to wait until the magazine is published, but I do have some others posted on Instagram you can see.”

“Insta-what?” he questions, the word foreign to his knowledge. It’s such a leftfield response that it almost eradicates the darker thoughts from your head.

“You’re kidding, right?” You meet his eyes for the first time in several minutes, and you notice that he’s calm yet looking to you with a confused expression. “Instagram? The social media platform?”

Clarity hits the moment he pulls a retro flip phone from his pocket, waving it in front of you. The sight alone makes your jaw fall agape. This man has a sports car, his son in a private school, and then both his apartment and phone are practically relics.

You pull your own phone out, navigating to the app in question. “I have to use this a lot for my work. For me, it makes a great digital portfolio, but mostly people post whatever.”

You pass him your phone, feeling even more nervous now that there’s no going back. In his hands are hundreds of photos you’ve taken of yourself over time, ranging from past modeling shoots to wardrobe advertisements, a few here and there of Tsumiki, and even some of yourself that you posted for you alone.

He spends some time scrolling through, pausing here and there on some that catch his eye. “Shit ─ sweetheart, these are incredible,” he praises.

“Yeah, after plenty of editing,” you scoff, muttering those words under your breath. You regret that you vocalized those thoughts and hope he didn’t hear. But alas, he always does.

“I’m serious,” he says with a stern voice. There’s a brief silence where your eyes have fallen to your plate that’s interrupted by your phone appearing in front of your face. You take it, looking back up at Toji where his pointer finger is directed at you. “That’s all you there.” He gestures to your phone. “And you look great doing it.”

You look down at your screen, and of all the photos on your page it could be, it’s one of the ones you fought with yourself to delete at one point.

It’s you, standing in your living room wearing a phthalo green dress in a style you don’t normally wear. It was golden hour at time, with sunlight kissing your features and your makeup styled in way that’s much more you. There was that feeling like the one you had yesterday at the time of this photo, the one where you felt like a stranger in your own skin. You loved the dress, the shoes, the jewelry you had on, but thought it would look better on anyone other than you.

In the end, you somehow brought yourself to upload it, even convincing yourself to not take it down afterwards. Little do you know, this photo is Toji’s favorite.

“I’m done!” Megumi suddenly proclaims, shifting the atmosphere. He picks up the artwork he’s been diligently working on, showing it off for you and his father to see.

“’Gumi,” you croon. His latest masterpiece is a continued version of the self-portrait of him and Toji that you saw earlier in the classroom. Only this time, there’s another figure now standing next to Megumi.

You.

You’re there holding his hand with a smile on your face, one that mirrors the lifelike version you hold now. “This is very sweet of you, ‘Gumi.” Your arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

“Can’t say I’ve seen the kid this smitten before,” Toji chuckles.

“What does that mean?” Megumi asks with a puzzled expression.

“Means you really like someone,” Toji responds with a snort. “Now finish eating those pancakes you begged for before they’re cold and soggy.” Megumi shoots him a look that Toji shrugs off with sly grin.

“You’re good with kids, you know,” Toji later remarks as he’s signing the receipt for the bill.

You pause after getting Megumi zipped up into his jacket. “I think Megumi’s just a good kid in general,” you say with a boop to the child’s nose.

“He is, but I’m glad he’s able to relax around someone other than me or his babysitter.”

His words bring a few thoughts into your head that you wish to question, but you remember Suguru’s words and decide to leave it. As you’re leaving the diner together, you end up realizing one other thing.

Toji paid for everything tonight.

Again.

He didn’t so much as even let you handle tipping the waiter, foiling your plan to return one of many favors.

This kind-hearted bastard.

☆ Notes: saying it now but i've never been drunk before cause i cannot stand alcohol so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies!

tbh I had already settled on making yaga a modeling manager before I even thought about having a school moment come this chapter, so I didn’t want to go back on that but oof is it hard. This chapter specifically also had me rethinking the ages I’ve gave the kids so I had to make adjustments there for it to make sense overall in the reupload

Not only that but also remembering that with megumi’s age, this would be set in the mid 2000s but let’s pretend it’s not because I don’t really care tbh LOL. It’s just for the sake of technology and me not wanting to think too deeply about it.

[n0v4t33z]

The Syndicate - Chapter 1: Misfortune of a Prodigy

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader, Bangchan X Female Reader

Summary: Y/N is a Detective with a promising future in the police department until she's kidnapped by the infamous mafia boss Choi San and from him, she learns the dark secrets her superior has been hiding the whole time so she teams up with him in order to put a stop to it.

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Language, Graphic Violence, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), y/n gets roughed up by Wooyoung in the beginning , Slow Burn, Fluff sometimes, Work In Progress, Non-Idol AU, Mafia AU, Very suggestive at times, y/n cries alot, y/n having inner turmoil, Ateez being bad boys, Wooyoung and Yeosang are a little mean in this story tbh, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Assassination attempt(s)

I'll update tags as the story progresses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist🎵 | Series Masterlist 📝

Author's Note: Hi guys! This is the very first story that I grew courage to post on here, so please be kind! I would also like to just kind of let you know that this is a work in progress so updates may not be as quick and they will be pretty slow as I am quite busy with work although I'm quite a bit ahead in the story writing wise so in the mean time I have enough chapters to be able to post. I really hope you guys enjoy the story! 💜

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After being called into a crime scene, I finally arrive to my destination and notice a couple of bystanders and a few journalists outside the hotel, I show my police shield to the officer guarding the crime scene and I head inside. I look around and notice the beautiful crystal chandelier on the ceiling and the beautiful marble floor of the lobby. I’m assuming it’s another one of Aurora Syndicate’s rival gang member’s death. I head over to the presidential suite of the hotel and there he was, a man who was around his 50’s bludgeoned to death, judging by his clothes he had a lot of money too. While my mind was focused on the crime scene I feel a hand on my shoulder interrupt my thoughts then I turn and realize it’s my partner Detective Christopher Bang “ Hey, I genuinely thought you weren’t going to come since it’s past the time you get off” He gives me a smug smirk judging from the tone of his voice. I shrug keeping my eyes focused on the victim’s position.

“Well, duty calls. Besides it has to do with AS so you know I’m up for this. So, whose this guy? He looks like he’s loaded" Chris takes out his notepad and hands it to me for me to read “Well, the guy’s name is Shiro Ito judging from his bank cards and identification used to get this room. He was allegedly involved in laundering money for The Aurora Syndicate, my guess he might have been stealing or giving out information which is why they probably killed him.” I slowly nod then I hand Chris his notepad back “Makes sense why they would have killed him, were his records clean?” He nods “Yep, clean as a whistle. The receptionist downstairs told me he was the owner of a few clothing stores which makes sense and is probably how he was able to launder money for so long without being questioned.” I get a little closer to the body and I look at the impact wounds. The wounds looked very deep, something very personal was the reason this man was killed. The suspect is definitely not a female, judging by the severity of the wounds it was definitely a male. I shift my gaze over to the man’s hands whom was holding on to something tightly.

With my gloved hands I pry open the victim’s right hand to reveal a cuff link with a beautiful iridescent stone. My face instantly lights up and I put it in an evidence bag. “Chris, this was not a woman who killed him. Look, a cufflink with an Aurora Borealis stone and it doesn't belong to Mr. Ito, he took it off of the attacker while he was trying to fight him off. If we find who this cufflink belongs to we've got our guy.” Chris’ eyebrows slightly raise while crossing his arms in front of him “Narrowing it down won’t be too hard, I’m positive it’s someone in the AS’ inner circle hence the name of the stone.” I turn and hand it over to a crime scene technician “Put this in evidence please this one is very important.” the technician nods and marks the evidence, I look back over to my partner who was engrossed looking at his notebook and I let out a small yawn “I’m heading home now, I’m exhausted. You mind finishing up here? I'm also almost finished with the police report from the last case so I'll turn it in first thing tomorrow cool?” He nods while he puts away his notepad in his back pocket and looks to me with a small smile “Yeah for sure, see you tomorrow.” I wave goodbye and I head back to my car and drive home for the night.

While I driving home I begin to think about that cuff link. Whose is it? And why was Mr. Ito killed? Hopefully we’re able to get the suspect’s print off of the cuff link but I highly doubt that since it’s probably covered in Mr. Ito’s prints.

When I arrive at my apartment complex, the lights to the parking lot are busted so it was kind of dark but not enough to where I couldn’t make things out. While I carefully get out of my car and I start to walk to my apartment. While I look through my purse to find my house keys I hear the cocking of a gun behind me “Take one more step In that direction and I will kill you.” I jump up and I turn around dropping my purse on the ground. I focus on both figures both dressed in black one was average height with jet black hair framing his face, and a tall one with blonde-brown hair. I raise my hands slightly to show I have nothing in my hand then the tall one removes my gun from my holster. The guy with the black hair grumbles “Mingi hurry up, I have a feeling someone saw us.” The dark haired male grabs me and points a gun to my lower back while his hand covers my mouth and nose with a cloth “If you scream things will get much worse from here, you wanted to be the hero so now’s your chance to take the fall.” Mingi the tall one, walks up to me and injects something into my neck, zip ties my hands and slings me over his shoulders like a rag doll. I have to fight to stay awake. I have to at least see the vehicle. I force my eyes open trying to stay awake whilst trying to free myself from Mingi's strong grip but my eyelids become unbearably heavy and I fall unconscious before I’m able to see the vehicle.

A few hours later, I wake up in a lowly lit room and quickly realize I'm tied up to a chair. Slightly groggy, I look around and see no one was in here. This empty room, is practically a near empty room with a crudely made empty bookcase behind me which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years along with a mix of bunch of random debris on the ground and dried blood. I sigh then I yell out “Hello?! Let me out of here please!?” After yelling for what seemed like a little while I hear footsteps fast approaching, and soon the door clicks open. It was the dark haired guy who abducted me again. “So you finally woke up, it took you long enough.” He stands in front of me and stares me down all while I look up at him trying to show him I wasn’t scared of him which was an obvious lie considering how I was manhandled earlier so easily. “Why am I here? Who are you?” Completely ignoring my question he reaches over and squeezes my cheeks really hard to the point where I jerk my head back in pain unable to escape his grip “You know, I hate cops. I hate how they try to dig up your business.” I glare at him “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be getting rich off of illegal businesses and death. ” He lets out a mocking laugh and lets go of my cheeks slightly throwing my head back with force that was pretty aggressive “Wow, Detective you’re funny. You know not everyone grew up with the same stupid sense of right and wrong as you right? We do what we can to survive.” I shake my head “No, you and your stupid mafia sheep are just a bunch of idiots who will eventually fall victim to natural selection.” He grabs a fistful of my hair “Oh, we’ll see about that.” He leans in close to my face “I need the rest of the names of the cops who are working on the Ito case, you pigs have something that belongs to San.”

Oh god, is he talking about Choi San? So it was his cufflink, I should have known. I shake my head “No, I won’t tell you anything...” He mutters under his breath “You little- I seriously don’t have patience for you...” he grabs me by the collar of my shirt and punches me in the jaw. A sharp pain shoots through my jaw and the taste of blood fills my mouth, for a few seconds I look at him slightly dazed while I mumble “I’m not telling you.” He shakes me violently pulling me from the rope I'm tied to “Talk! I need those names now!” he pushes me back and I fall on my back and on my arms letting out a pained cry “No! I’m not going to tell you anything!” The male walks over to me and kicks me several times in the stomach causing me to let out pained screams and cough up blood. Slowly I start feeling like I was losing my consciousness again but before it happens he grabs me by the rope I was tied up with again and pulls the chair back up “Hey, are you passing out? Come on, tell me names and It’ll all stop. I promise.” He spits out mockingly. I shake my head while I look at the floor trying to dissociate myself from the situation I’m in. Blood profusely drips from my mouth onto my white collared shirt soaking through the shirt and feeling the dull drops of blood fall onto the fabric. One, two, three..

The dark haired man walks over to the corner of the room and grabs a crop whip and hits me so hard I could hear the whip crack. I let out a cry of pain and suddenly a thin, tall, dark haired man dressed all in black wearing a leather jacket comes in and grabs his shoulder “I think she’s had enough. You can stop hitting her now Wooyoung, she’s not going to talk.” Right after he comes in another man enters the room, he wore a wine colored dress shirt and some fitted dress pants with his dark hair slicked back and black rimmed glasses. It’s Choi San, the current leader of Aurora Syndicate. He looks exactly the way people described him to be. Handsome, cat like eyes with a jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds, and a very intimidating prescence. Wooyoung, slighty nervous knowing he messed up looks over at both guys and says “Seonghwa, San, I tried being nice but she was being so rude I didn’t have a choice.” San looks over at Wooyoung quite irritated and says “Can’t you ever follow orders? We need her alive. I never asked you to do this.” Wooyoung raises both of his hands and nods “Alright, alright fine. I’m sorry. I just thought that because you usually-” San turns to Seonghwa and cuts him off “ Seonghwa, please take her to the infirmary and ask Jongho to clean up Wooyoung’s stupid mess” San then makes his way over to me and kneels down, looks at me for a few seconds and lifts my chin up with his finger to meet his gaze all while wiping the blood off my chin with his thumb “I’ll talk to you later Detective, we have some things I wan to discuss.” he gets up and wipes the blood he wiped off of my chin onto Wooyoung's shirt. Slightly annoyed by this action, Wooyoung scrunches up his face in distaste and follows behind him leaving me alone with Seonghwa.

The man quietly walks over to me and uncuffs me from the chair. “That’s a lot of blood, I hope Wooyoung didn’t do too much damage.” His soft voice had some calming effect to where I was slowly coming back from my dissociation and felt a bit more grounded. He kneels next to me and for a few seconds he lets me recollect myself “Let’s go to the infirmary, hopefully you can get rest there.” Slowly tears well up in my eyes making my vision blurry. He lets out a soft sigh and gently pats my back “It’s okay, don’t cry. I can’t guarantee that nothing will happen to you but I suggest you just listen and answer the questions you’re asked.” I shake my head “No, I’d rather die than throw my whole squad under the bus.” He fixes my disheveled hair and says “I know, but trust me the faster you fess up the faster you’ll be able to leave. Just think about it, please.” He slowly helps me up and picks me bridal style in his arms.

While we head over towards the infirmary I break the silence by saying “Why are you being so nice?” For a few seconds he stays quiet until he finally responds “Well, I believe in treating people with kindness despite whether or not I dislike something about them. For instance, I don’t like the feds but that won’t stop me from being a decent human being.” I look up at him in sheer confusion “But you’re a literal criminal. You steal and kill people for a living.” A small smile appears on his face and he says “Criminal or not i’m still human. Remember, we all have reasons as to why we do things even if sometimes those things aren’t good.” He’s right, even the people on the other side of justice have their reasons for being criminals. Not everyone decides to do it because they want to be evil, most of the time it’s the lack of money, or a cry for help. Everyone is different.

When we finally enter the infirmary it smelled exactly like a hospital, intoxicatingly sterile. Jongho was at his desk on the computer but as soon as he sees me in Seonghwa’s arms he quickly gets up and walks over to us. Seonghwa gently sets me down on the examining table. Jongho looks at me for a brief second in horror then looks over at Seonghwa “What the hell happened? Why does she look like this?” Seonghwa looks at Jongho and says “It was Wooyoung, San got pretty upset about it too.” Jongho looks over at me and glances at the police badge around my neck making a very uncomfortable face and huffs under his breath “That bastard..” He uncomfortably smiles “ Seonghwa, I’ll take it from here thank you.” He nods and walks out the door closing the door behind him. Leaving Jongho and I alone.

Jongho puts on some latex gloves and he grabs his stethoscope from a drawer near his desk. He gently places the chest piece on my chest and does a whole routine check up listening to my breathing and what not, shortly after he finishes he puts his stethoscope around his neck and clears his throat “I listened to your organs and everything sounds fine, no broken ribs which is good. I see that your arms are quite red, so you might get bruises but no broken bones which is good news too. I also see that you coughed up blood but you’ll be okay you’ll just be sore for a couple of days the internal bleeding will heal on its own as it's not severe. I'm going to give you some pain killers, they’ll help for a couple of hours.”

After taking the medicine he proceeds to clean my busted lip “Thank you, but I have a question.” His eyebrows slightly raise “Oh, sure what is it?” I give him a pleading look and I say “Why am I here?” his face grows a little serious and he goes back to cleaning my wound “Oh, well you’re here because San Is looking for a family Heirloom he lost... That heirloom is so important to him because it was a gift from his father and to get it back he decided he was going to hold you for ransom until the police hands it over.” I sit there trying to process everything for a few moments then I respond “Isn���t that a little overboard for a cufflink?” Jongho shrugs “It is, but knowing how San is since he really treasures everything his father gave him. I’m sure he really doesn’t want to replace it and it’s understandable.”

San’s father, Junseo “The Phantom” Choi. He was killed in a shootout last winter at a restaurant he frequented. I look down at my police badge then I look over at Jongho “San could have just asked me to give it to him. It's really that simple.” Jongho shakes his head “I wish it was that easy but it’s complicated, let’s just say that your Captain and San’s family aren’t on great terms so in a way this is payback .This is as much as I can tell you because to begin with I wasn’t even supposed to tell you any of this so please just act like it’s the first time you’ve heard about it when San questions you.” I nod “Of course no worries. By the way thank you for not trying to kill me.” Jongho’s small smile comes back and he says “Of course, none of this is your fault to begin with.” Suddenly a guy with light grey hair that almost looks white comes in and says “Hey, I’m taking her from you San wants to talk to her. Is she clear for interrogation?” I give Jongho a worried look and he gives me a small reassuring smile, helps me get off the examining table and walks me over to the guy at the doorway “Yes Hongjoong, she's clear.”

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[storyofmychoices]

Tuneless Wonders

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist] 

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC) Book: The Elementalists Word Count: >600 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings, all the fluff Prompts: @choicesjanuary2024 aurora (borealis); @choicesficwriterscreations

Synopsis: Emma shows Beckett that the tuneless world has magic of its own.

It has been FAR too long since I've commissioned art of these two. So I am very excited to have been able to commission this piece by the ever talented ArtByAinna (IG) to kick off our TE @choicesbookclub

The vibrant hues of the aurora borealis painted the sky in a mesmerizing dance of celestial colors. Beckett and Emma found themselves at a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of their friends. The ethereal lights shimmered overhead, casting a magical glow upon the landscape.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Emma teased, lacing her fingers with his as she rested her head on his shoulder. “The tuneless world has its own magic.”

Beckett couldn’t help but be captivated by the enchanting display painting the sky. “Wow,” the only word he could manage slipped quietly from his lips, his gaze fixed on the celestial wonder above.

Emma’s eyes sparkled with a blend of awe and admiration. “Nature's magic is unparalleled. Earth has her own set of spells that she blesses us with."

A surge of appreciation for a magic he had never considered before washed over him. Beckett had read of this natural event in books, of course, but he never imagined them quite like this. In his readings, it was simple. It was science, just a bit of chemistry—an interaction of particles, solar wind, and the Earth’s magnetic field—nothing special. Yet, the reality of what he thought nothing of, now, left him breathless.

Emma’s words continued to resonate with him as he stood entranced. He couldn’t deny the magnificent enchantment surrounding them. He slowly breathed in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs, the moment overwhelming him in the best way. As he exhaled, Beckett attempted to let go of the complexities of magical academia he had spent his life mastering, allowing room for this new appreciation for the tuneless wonders he never would have understood without her.

“It’s breathtaking,” he whispered, his words of reverence drifting from his lips in wisps of warmth against the cold air.

Emma’s gaze met his cool, grey eyes, which shimmered with the colors of the heavens. “Perhaps nature’s magic is the truest form. No spells, no textbooks—just the raw, untamed beauty of the world. Maybe that’s where it all started. Maybe this and other examples of Earth’s magic is the origin of all other magick we know.”

“Thank you.” His fingers brushed tenderly across her cheek as he cradled her face.

“For what?” She smiled softly.

“For sharing this with me—” he began, his gaze drifting once more to the beautiful dance above them. "—for convincing me that there are wonders and magic I still don't understand—" His words were quieter now, “—and... for being smarter than me.”

“What was that?” Emma’s brow quirked with mischief. "I couldn’t quite hear you—"

“You heard me well enough.”

She considered it for a moment. “I think I heard you say I was smarter than you—the one and only, Beckett Harrington. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” She rested the back of her hand against his forehead.

He shook his head. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Well, if you want me to stop, you know what you have to do.” She grabbed the lapel of his navy peacoat, pulling him closer, their noses brushing together.

His freckled cheeks flushed at her gesture. “You’re impossible.” Beckett’s words were lost as he closed the gap between them. As their lips met, the warmth of her kiss seeped deep into him, a radiant glow that warmed him inside and out, like the gentle embrace of the soothing sun on a cold winters day.

The celestial lights above bore witness to their kiss, a moment of pure magic that rivaled the magic of this world and the magick of their studies.

I haven't written Beckett in... I honestly don't know how long 2, maybe 3??? years!?! I hope that our Book Club replay of TE will inspire some more Beckett and Emma stories. So far, I really only ever wrote them in my Detention Series.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

[raccoonfallsharder]

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everything is in alphabetical order with links to future projects at the end, but if you can think of a better way to organize, feel free to hit me up ♡

⋆ ˖ ⁺ ‧₊ ☽ anthology ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ratings vary | no use of y/n | complete | word count: varies. miscellaneous one-shots belonging to no specific collections or series. gender of reader varies. collects three oneshots. adorations | Autopilot Systems Check | fistful of sunlight | overheard on the bowie | practice: an eidos-rocket minific | the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip | rocket raccoon prompt week | tomorrow | warm compress

♡‧₊˚✩ Blackmail Material ✩˚₊‧ ♡ 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 3/3 parts | complete | word count: 30,591. a classic tale of "that fuckin raccoon found your sex toy." post-endgame friends-to-lovers smut with feelings, fluff, & love confessions. Blackmail Material | Self-Sufficience | Bioluminescent

⋆⊰∙∘⋆❆ borealis ❆⋆∘∙⊱⋆ winter collection varies | no use of y/n | complete | word count: varies. an anthology of various winter-themed/holiday one-shots. gender of reader varies. collect four 2023 winter oneshots. traditions. | ugly sweater. | frostnip. | snow & stars. | winter across the galaxy

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ 18+ only MDNI | rocket x f!oc | wip | 20/40+ | word count: pending. a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs. inspired by mary shelley’s frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus. nemotia | ambedo | rasque | anthrodynia | o'erpine | lockheartedness | starlorn | keep | mal de coucou | querinous | hailbound | ochisia | heartspur | ghough | soufrise | craxis | keyframe | attriage | tiris | foilsick | puntkick |

Domestic Scenes in Space Travel ✩°｡ ⋆ The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | word count: varies. reader x rocket domestic fluff & smut with feelings. comics-based but you don't need any comics background knowledge to ride this ride. collects Installments 1-5 and an Interlude. The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl | Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training | Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual | Critical Interview Questions for Potential Room & Crewmates [explicit & smut-free versions] | Proof: A Moment in Space | Untitled Installment 6

florescence❀ ˖⁺‧₊˚ (a meetgroot) 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 3/6 years | wip | word count: pending. Rocket & Groot leave their friends behind on Knowhere, despite the latter’s protests, and end up hiding out on a nothing-planet (with a non-extradition policy) at the edge of the Shi’ar Galaxy. It was the flowers that drew you in. mcu-based, slight au, medium-burn, eventual smut circa Year Four. tentative allies to friends to lovers. the middle is angsty but there are only happy endings here. Year Zero: Seed | Year One: Sprout | Year Two: Growth | Year Three: Flowering | Year Four: Formation | Year Five: Dispersal

˚₊‧✶ headcanons & imagines ✶‧₊˚ smut-free | no use of y/n | gn reader | oneshots & drabbles various guardians of the galaxy headcanons, minifics, and more.

°˖✧˚♡ kinktober 2023 ♡˚✧˖° 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | oneshots | word count: varies. based on @flightlessangelwings Kinktober 2023 prompt list. please read all warnings.

kinktober2024 ‧₊˚♡༉‧₊ 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 3 books | word count: varies. three books based on three erotic flavors. soft & sweet [sunshine, 4 parts]. sultry & spicy [evasive maneuvers, 2 parts]. sensual & shameless [you are cordially invited, a very long oneshot].

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷.⁺⋆˚₊ smut-free | no use of y/n | gn reader | oneshots & drabbles | word count: varies. based on @rocketraccoonpromptweek. most can be read platonically, with only some brief mentions of romance or spice. explosives | hurts | emotionalistic | family | machinery | bite | home

✩࿐࿔ take what you need smut-free | gn reader | no use of y/n | 16 complete reminders | word count: varies. the world is hard, and sometimes it's difficult to complete daily tasks & take care of yourself. rocket bullies you for your own good. non-smutty. reader is gender-neutral. accepting requests via reblogs, asks, and tumblr & ao3 comments. collects various Reminders (ongoing) ࿔ eat somethin ࿔ go to frickin bed ࿔ get outta bed & get your shit done ࿔ take a damn bath ࿔ leave your frickin skin alone ࿔ take a fuckin study break ࿔ drink some goddamn water ࿔ stop destroying your fricking clothes ࿔ just buy the damn thing already ࿔ it's frickin laundry day ࿔ get some goddamn sunshine ࿔ have you taken your meds today? ࿔ schedule your fuckin appointments ࿔ do the goddamn dishes ࿔ brush your frickin teeth ࿔ nobody fucking hates you ࿔ stop biting your goddamnm nails ࿔

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. angst, friendship, fluff | rocket & wanda | 7/7 parts | complete | word count: pending. for hibatasblog ♡ During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR prepare for departure. | pennsylvania. ohio. indiana. | illinois. wisconsin. minnesota. | south dakota. | montana. | idaho. washington. | you've arrived at your destination.

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ (a meetgroot) 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 3/3 parts | complete | word count: 44,521. wind·fall /ˈwin(d)ˌfôl/ noun. an apple or other fruit blown down from a tree or bush by the wind; an unexpected piece of good fortune. semi-shy ultrafeminine touch-deprived reader tries to avoid meeting knowhere’s intimidating captain. is profoundly unsuccessful. Sugared Violets. | Crystallized Ginger. | Candied Apples.

Window Across the Galaxy *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 18+ only MDNI | rocket x f!oc | 27/27 chapters | complete | word count: 235,940. girl falls first; raccoon falls harder. Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops. slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). collects Chapters I-XXVII. *:･ﾟ✧

what's on the horizon? future projects

masterlist banner & fairylight divider by @/saradika-graphics raccoon dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[hisui-dreamer]

ode to the loyal knight

Pairing: Silver x gn!reader

Synopsis: you simply adored his very existence, everything single part of him

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for silver, bot proofread

Word count: 606

Notes: ngl i found silver kinda boring at first but i'm glad to say fairy gala remix and other snippets of lore have endeared him to me. happy birthday silver!

Masterlist

Your lover's eyes are a mesmerizing masterpiece, pools of blue and purple hues that you could stare into forever. Within their depths, an ethereal quality dances, as if the colours themselves were blessed by the tender caress of the dawn's first light. When his eyes lock with yours, time stands still, and you find yourself lost in their enchanting splendour. In those captivating eyes, you witness the reflection of his soul, a kind spirit that calls out to you, urging you to delve deeper into his being.

Your lover's tendency to drift into slumber, no matter the circumstance, may exasperate those around him, but to you, it's an endearing aspect of his character, adding a unique charm that you simply can't resist. You can’t help but smile when he falls asleep during classes or training, unable to resist the allure of sleep despite his best efforts.

Your lover tries to stay awake for you determinedly. You see the exhaustion etched upon his face, yet he persists, striving to be fully present with you. But alas, despite his best efforts, his eyelids grow heavy, and his body begins to sway with fatigue. His eyes flutter closed, and his body relaxes and ventures into the realm of dreams. Though sleep claims him, you know that when he awakens, he will be refreshed and ready to spend time with you once more. And in those moments of wakefulness, you will treasure his affection and attention, knowing full well the love he holds for you.

Your lover's laid-back nature draws you in, captivating you with its charm. His naivety sometimes leads to misunderstandings, but it only makes you love him more. You find beauty in his ability to see the best in everyone and everything, even when the world appears grim. He brings light into your life, and when you're together, a fluffy, optimistic atmosphere envelope you both. It may irritate some, but to you, it's a magical space where love and positivity thrive.

Your lover is a knight, a valiant soul committed to honour and duty. His dedication is a testament to the love and gratitude he holds for those who raised him. Through the haze of his somnolence, he strives to repay their kindness, his heart set on protecting those he cherishes. When it comes to those dear to him, caution awakens within him, transforming his demeanour into one of vigilance and protection. His usually serene eyes sharpen, his steps become measured and deliberate. In those moments, you witness the depths of his love and loyalty, his devotion unwavering.

You love how he remains composed and level-headed, carefully weighing each situation before making decisions. In moments of crisis, you trust him to guide you with his steady hand and wise judgment. He is not talkative, but you find solace in the quiet moments spent together. His willingness to listen, to absorb your thoughts and opinions without judgment, creates a safe haven where your voice is valued.

The sleepy gaze he casts upon you, the unwavering dedication he pours into every aspect of his life, and even his endearing absent-mindedness, they all intertwine, creating a tapestry of love that is both gentle and fierce. Every moment spent with him is like a vibrant brushstroke across the sky, an ethereal dance of colours in the canvas of your love. Just like the northern lights so alike his eyes, as the aurora borealis stretches across the horizon, your bond illuminates the depths of your souls, the magic of your love lights up the darkest corners, bringing warmth and comfort to even the coldest nights.

Your lover, is none other than Silver.

Masterlist

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[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ aurora borealis — loving — part 4/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader wc. 10.7k cw. nsfw - minors do not interact, explicit language, explicit sexual content (blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, very minor (blink and you'll miss it) feet kink, submissive-ish gojo), alcohol, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, sexual jokes, some details are intentionally ambiguous, mention of children/pregnancy, ⚠️major character death⚠️, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Previous ⋆ Masterlist ⋆ Next

2016.

“Satoru Gojo?”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat—a mixture between a gasp and a groan—and throws his forearm over his eyes. Satoru falls back onto the bed as if wounded while he clutches your phone tight to his chest.

“My government name?”

He rolls back and forth on the bed in feigned agony, curling up into the fetal position on his side and moving his hand away from his eyes to cradle the phone close to his face. He blinks down at the screen, eyes wide and trembling, before flicking up to meet your face.

You stand at the side of the bed with your hands on your hips and a frown on your face, but you’re not mad—not really.

“You couldn’t have given me a cute nickname? Pookie? Love of My Life? Satowoo?”

Your angry facade breaks and you snort. “Satowoo?”

“I dunno—literally anything would be better.”

You reach down and snatch the phone from Satoru’s grip, scrolling away from your text screen with him and back to the messages from Utahime from this morning. She said they were going to come pick up the two of you on the way to Suguru’s house for the party. 

“Because I know that idiot is going to beg me for a ride five minutes after I’ve already left the house,” Utahime’s message said.

You respond with a quick confirmation and set your phone down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed and on top of Satoru. He accommodates you with ease by rolling onto his back, stretching his long legs across the mattress and making room for you to settle onto his lap. 

His porcelain skin is marked with dark purple bruises along his collarbones and lines of red scratches across his biceps from the night before. The view makes your heart thud a little harder against your ribcage and you move to press your palms into his chest as you loom above him.

“What’s my name in your phone?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Snookums? Sweetie Pie? My Soulmate?”

“My One and Only.”

Satoru’s expression softens as he speaks. His face relaxes and his eyes widen minutely as his hands come to rest on your hips. The corner of his lip twitches against his cheek as he fights back a smile, but even with all of the theatrics, you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“Liar. That’s your name for Suguru.”

His features sharpen in an instant—grin splitting across his face and gaze turning sinister while his fingers press hard into your skin. Satoru runs his tongue across his teeth, catching on a canine and pressing into it with devilish delight.

“You caught me,” he says, and he can’t hide his excitement. “Whoops! I guess I need to be punished for being so bad.”

Satoru’s voice deepens into a growl and you lurch forward when he presses his hips up into you. He’s already hard against you and you can see more signs of his arousal from the pink flush on his cheeks, slowly crawling down his face, his neck, and down to where your fingers are sprawled across his chest.

“Really?” you say, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on,” he whines. His impatience is evident from the way he drags your hips along the length of his cock and the quickened rise and fall of his chest. “How am I supposed to make it through tonight if I don’t get my rocks off at least once?”

“How are you going to make it through… a night with your friends?”

Satoru nods. His face softens again as he pleads, his brows pitching into the centre of his forehead while he juts his lower lip out in a pout.

He’s determined—you’ll give him that. Willing to try any strategy he can to get you out of your clothes. 

Unfortunately, you’re in a bit of a time crunch this morning.

“Uta said they were coming by in a few hours and I still need to finish making my dish for dinner—”

“It’s not going to take you hours to do that.”

“—and I still need to shower and get cleaned off from yesterday—”

“I’ll join you! I bet I can get you extra clean with my tongue.”

“—not to mention the fact that I haven’t picked out an outfit for tonight yet, either—”

“Don’t wear anything! Or better yet, just wrap yourself up in some ribbon so I can unwrap you under the tree.”

You quirk a brow. “In front of everyone?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’m sure Nanami could use some pointers in the bedroom. Consider it a live demonstration in the art of lovemaking.”

“And Shoko and Suguru?”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.” 

Satoru shoots you with another wolfish grin and you’re painfully reminded of Satoru’s embarrassing run-in with Shoko immediately after eating you out, as well as Suguru demanding that the two of you find your own place to live after catching the two of you hooking up in the living room when Satoru was staying with him.

Despite the excitement in your veins from the press of Satoru’s cock against your core, you give him a gentle pat on the chest and swing your leg off of his lap and step back onto the floor at the side of the bed.

“As romantic as that sounds, Satoru, I’m going to have to decline. Now, I’m going to take a shower while you go… take care of yourself—” you gesture down to the tent in Satoru’s pants, “—and while I’m getting dressed, can you wrap the presents for me?”

“You’re really going to leave me here to jack off by myself?”

His voice follows you out of the room as you make your way to the ensuite.

“Just don’t get cum on the sheets,” you call back before closing the bathroom door behind you and getting ready for your shower.

You and Satoru have been living together for a few months now—dating for almost a year—and it’s been so…

Easy.

Everything with Satoru is effortless—natural. Not that you thought it would be hard—of course, not—but things with him are just so much easier than you ever expected. Maybe being friends for so long beforehand helped.

(Or the unspoken, mutual pining.)

The flirty banter you had as friends has continued, although the stakes are higher now that you know he’ll make good on all his threats. His touch doesn’t linger on your skin anymore the way it used to. Instead, he holds you tight every chance he gets. Like he’s constantly trying to make up for lost time by smothering you with his love.

It’s nice. Waking up every morning wrapped around his body. Feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The way his lashes flutter when he dreams. How his skin turns pink when you touch him.

You never thought that you could be so happy with someone like this.

Under the stream of warm water, you hear the familiar click! of the bathroom door opening. You still, listening to the slow patter of Satoru’s bare feet on the tile as he approaches. He pulls open the shower curtain and seems surprised that you’re already staring over at him, expecting his entrance.

Satoru ducks his head under the shower rod and he steps in behind you, already stripped naked and still sporting a half-hard cock.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as he reaches past you for his body wash. “I need to shower, too.”

“I thought you were jerking off.”

“Nah, that’s boring.”

Satoru squirts a generous handful of shower gel into his palm, setting the bottle back in place before pressing his hands together to lather the soap. “Want me to help you soap up?”

You level him with a skeptical look, which he returns with a wide grin.

“No funny business.”

He gasps, hand to his chest. “I would never!”

When the two of you make it downstairs, you’re in a panicked rush, certain parts of your body are much cleaner than others, and there’s a dull, familiar ache between your legs as you walk.

“They’re going to be here in less than an hour!” you say, stepping quickly to the fridge to pull out ingredients for a dish that you, realistically, should have prepped last night.

Satoru scoffs, unbothered, as he tugs on an oversized black hoodie. His hair is still slightly damp and beads of water drip from the ends and litter across his hood and shoulders.

When he looks like this—hair floppy on his head and his cheeks flushed pink—it reminds you of the night you first met him. You get a twinge of nostalgia in your chest when you look up from the cutting board and feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“Just tell them we’re running a few minutes late,” he says, leaning back on the kitchen counter beside you. He crosses his arms and rests his head on his shoulder, pursing his lips. “They’ll understand. They were young and in love once, too.”

“I’m not telling our friends we’re running late because we spent too long fooling around in the shower.”

“Why not?” he frowns, and his surprise seems genuine. “Honesty is important.”

It takes you a beat longer than you’re willing to admit before you realize that he’s joking. With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you nudge him in the side. He takes the hit with an exaggerated giggle before he scampers away, leaving you to work on the dish alone.

“I’ll go wrap the gifts,” he calls from over his shoulder.

This is the first time all of you have found the time to get together in almost a year. Since Nanami and Utahime got married, they’ve been spending a lot more time with just the two of them, (“Making babies”, Satoru always says, waggling his eyebrows.)

Shoko’s new position has her working weird hours, so it’s difficult to find time to see her that isn’t in the middle of the night. She works twelve-hour shifts that are both mentally and physically draining at the ER of the new hospital in the city, so you don’t blame her for ignoring Satoru’s incessant texts in favour of getting some well-deserved rest.

But you always find time to see Suguru.

You’re not sure when he stopped being Geto and when he became Suguru to you—the transition was so seamless that you struggle to remember a time when the two of you weren’t as close as you are now.

The dynamic you have with the two boys—Satoru and Suguru—is a fun one. There are times when you and Suguru team up on Satoru for acting immature and doing something needlessly goofy. Other times, Satoru and Suguru team up on you. Teasing you like childish bullies in the schoolyard—poking at your sides and pulling your hair (Satoru) or holding things just slightly out of reach (Suguru).

The real fun is when you and Satoru team up on Suguru.

When you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug while Satoru tries to climb onto his back. When Suguru laughs at the two of you, his eyes wrinkling in the corners in a boyish way that makes your heart feel warm. When he just sits back and watches the two of you playfully bicker, his favourite mug in his hand and a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s rare these days to see Suguru really smiling. He’s experienced a lot of loss this past year—first his father in the spring and then his mother shortly thereafter. The girlfriend you thought was perfect for him ended up cheating and breaking his heart in the fall, so now you and Satoru have taken it upon yourselves to take care of him.

Just like how he used to take care of the two of you.

You’re only partway through cooking your dish when you hear a knock at the front door and then your panic spikes. You try to talk yourself into packing up the half-cooked casserole for the car ride, but when Utahime and Nanami walk in, you see panicked looks on their faces, too.

“Our apologies for arriving early,” Nanami says with a soft, embarrassed smile. He walks around the kitchen island to give you a hug and presses a chaste kiss to your temple before pulling away. “We were hoping that you would have some icing sugar so Uta can finish her cake.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” you say, and you gesture to the pantry.

“We tried calling,” Utahime says. She huffs as she sets her dish down on the counter: a plain, undressed cake. She lifts another bag from her feet, where Nanami had set it down, and you can see the rods of a standing mixer peeking out from the top. “All the shops are closed and I’m missing the key fucking ingredient for this goddamn cake.”

You laugh and let her pull you into a one-armed hug. She presses her cheek into yours with a heavy sigh when Satoru’s voice rings out from the other room.

“Is that Utahime I hear?”

“Nobody would blame you if you left him,” she whispers, only half-joking as her face falls at the sound of Satoru’s voice growing louder.

“I said: is that Utahime?”

“Gojo, I don’t—”

When Satoru rounds the corner, he tackles her with a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning Utahime around in a circle while she shrieks at him to let her go. You raise your hands defensively, guiding Satoru out of the small kitchen and into the adjoining dining room.

With any luck, if he keeps spinning around like this, he’ll knock over Utahime’s cake and then he’ll really be giving her a reason to scream at him.

“Uta - hime!” he cheers, bouncing her up and down while her clenched fists pound at his back. “Happy Wedding Anniversary!”

“Put me the fuck down!”

“Aw, come on—I haven’t seen you in ages, Utahime.”

“And you’re never going to see me again if you don’t drop me right this instant.”

“Why?” he coos, but he sets her back down on her feet before leaning into her face. She snarls with disgust and pushes him away, but he returns with a vengeance. “Do I need to be careful with you, Uta? Is there something you need to tell us, hmm?”

“We’re not pregnant,” Nanami says, his voice deadpan as he sets a bag of icing sugar on the counter.

Satoru’s shoulders slump forward. “Aw, really? It's been like a year. Don’t you want to fill that big, lonely house of yours with some mini-Nanamis?”

“You shouldn’t ask people that sort of thing,” Utahime chides, but her back is to him now as she fishes out supplies from her bag. “What if we’re having fertility issues? It’s not any of your business whether or not we’re even trying to conceive.”

Satoru slides back over to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. His body is warm and his hoodie is soft against you and when you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him, he presses his lips softly into your skin.

“Should we spoil the surprise?” he whispers not-so-quietly. “I know you wanted to wait until the party, but I’m just so excited.”

Nanami’s attention shifts to the two of you, his brows up in his hairline. “Do you…” his eyes shift down to Satoru’s hands, which have moved lower to press protectively against your stomach, “have news to share?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, voice turning serious. Even Utahime looks over at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Came in her this morning—”

Nanami frowns. Deep, long lines form on either side of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“—we’ll see if it sticks this time. Although, the birth control might be an issue.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Utahime groans, clenching her hands into fists as Satoru cackles. Her gaze shifts over to you, this time, exasperated. “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

You laugh and raise your hand to cup Satoru’s face. He hums in happiness, leaning into your touch as he holds you tight against his body. “Unfortunately, I’m in love with him.”

“Unfortunate, indeed,” Nanami sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“They’re right though, Satoru,” you say, patting his cheek. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“Aw, come on—I’m just teasing, they know that.”

Nanami and Utahime shift their attention back to the undressed cake and they pull out the remaining ingredients and set up her standing mixer. You’re grateful to have a bit more time to finish making your casserole.

“Did you finish wrapping all the gifts?” you ask, pressing your lips into Satoru’s cheek while he hums against you.

“Yeah, I just gotta put a bow on Shoko’s gift then I’ll be all done.”

“Can you help me clean up the kitchen then? I should be ready to go once Uta’s finished with the cake.”

“Anything for you,” he coos, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his forearms, as he walks over to the sink to start washing up your mess from earlier.

You join him at his side, grabbing a towel to dry off the dishes as he cleans them, and then setting them aside to be put away later. By the time everything is cleaned, dried, and put away, Nanami and Utahime are finishing up by piping buttercream icing onto their cake and your casserole only has a few minutes left in the oven.

“We don’t need to fully cook it, I guess,” you rationalize with yourself, reaching for the oven mitts. “We can finish cooking it when we get to Suguru’s—we won’t have dinner for a while, still.”

“Do you think Shoko will attend tonight?” Nanami asks, watching Utahime with amusement as she makes perfect flowers onto the surface of the cake. Her tongue is peeking out from between her lips and you can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks at her.

“She said she’d try to swing by before work.”

Nanami sighs, shifting his gaze from Utahime to you, watching you as you set the oven-hot casserole down onto a trivet to protect the countertop. “It’s unbelievable that she’s working on Christmas Eve.”

“She works almost every day,” Satoru snorts, stepping to peer over Utahime’s shoulder as she pipes the icing. He reaches out from behind her with a single finger, looking to scoop some icing off of the cake but she elbows him in the stomach—hard—and he doubles over with a grunt.

“Ow! Uta, that’s—” he coughs, “—that’s not very ladylike of you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Gojo,” she seethes. 

After what Utahime would call, an excruciatingly long twenty-minute drive, the four of you arrive at the home of Suguru Geto with food and presents in tow.

Suguru doesn’t greet you at the door but he leaves it unlocked for you to let yourself in. The second you pass through the doorway, your senses are assaulted with the warmth of his home.

The sight of Suguru’s home decorated in tasteful Christmas-themed decor. The smell of dinner cooking in the oven. The soft sound of atmospheric ambient music playing throughout the home and the even softer sounds of the fireplace video crackling on Suguru’s TV. 

You can’t help but grin as you step into the house. You immediately feel at home.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells, cupping his hands around his mouth as he leans over Utahime’s shoulder. She flinches from the volume and shoves at him with her elbow. “We’re here, Suguru!”

Suguru steps around the corner leading to the kitchen with a tea towel in his hands. He’s wiping off food from his fingers but otherwise is dressed in a fitted knit sweater with his hair tied up into a tight bun, akin to the style he used to sport at school.

“I thought you weren’t going to  make it.”

“Gojo held us up,” Uta huffs, pinning the blame elsewhere, despite the fact that she was just as much the cause for the delay as Satoru was.

She kicks off her shoes easily and steps past you to greet Satoru. She presses onto her toes to reach his face, but he still has to duck his head for Utahime’s lips to connect with his cheek. She presses a firm kiss to each cheek as she holds the cake between their bodies.

“It’s good to see you, Geto,” she says, her voice soft. “You look like you’re doing well.”

“I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today if you all weren’t coming over.”

Suguru smiles down at her to punctuate his teasing words, but the lack of warmth in his face has Utahime shifting awkwardly on her feet.

He’s not joking.

“I’ll go put this on the counter,” she says, and you follow her into the kitchen just in time to avoid Satoru’s charge toward Suguru.

“Suguru!” he cheers, and even as you step into the other room, you can hear Suguru’s laughter.

“Is he…?” Utahime speaks to you out of the corner of her mouth. She sets the cake on the counter to free her hands as she looks at you through the reflection of the kitchen window.

“He’s better… but not great.”

She nods solemnly and brushes both palms down the front of her dress. The two of you linger in silence in the kitchen for a moment, allowing the boys outside to greet one another as you share sympathetic looks.

“It’ll just take some time,” you say finally, your voice just a whisper. “I think tonight will be good for him.”

“I hope so,” she says, glancing over to the doorway of the kitchen. From here, you can only see Nanami’s back and Geto’s palm resting on his shoulder. “I’ve grown fond of him over the years. I hate to see him in pain like this.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, and this time you smile. “It’s a shame Satoru hasn’t grown on you yet.”

She groans, rolling her eyes and breaking the tension. “Honestly, I don’t know how you live with him.”

“Does that mean you’re not interested in a husband swap?”

You’re only teasing her and you both know it, but she feigns anger. “I knew it. You’ve always wanted him for yourself.”

“I was there long before you were, sweetie,” you coo, leaning into the bit, “and I’ll be there after you, too.”

“Stupid bitch,” she says, but her tone has lost its bite and she brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “In all seriousness, I’m happy to see you again, too.”

Utahime pulls you in for another hug, this time squeezing you tight around the middle. 

“And I hope you don’t think my comments about Gojo are legitimate concerns. I know how happy he makes you and I wouldn’t want to cause you any feelings of doubt.”

She’s lying—you know how much she genuinely hates Satoru. Even before the two of you were dating. Back before she was with Nanami.

But you appreciate her kindness and you’ve never taken any of the snide comments she’s made about him to heart. Besides, Satoru doesn’t even realize how much Utahime truly hates him—he thinks it’s all playful banter. 

If it doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t bother you.

“Thank you, Uta,” you say, returning her squeeze before pulling away to look at her face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Nanami walks in as the two of you step away from the hug and he greets you both with a warm smile, his gaze lingering on Utahime. He moves beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close at his side.

“The boys went upstairs to check out Geto’s… lights?”

“Smart lights,” you explain, shaking your head with fondness. “He’s set up LED lighting in his room and has it all connected to his phone so it changes colour. He’s been chatting about it with Satoru for the past few months, he’s really excited about it.”

Nanami smiles. “That’s good, even if I don’t fully understand the concept.”

“I don’t either, to be honest,” you admit, “but it keeps him busy and helps keep the demons at bay.”

He nods but doesn’t pry. He’s never been one to gossip, especially about someone’s mental health, and he’s heard about what’s been going on in Suguru’s life from the man himself—

Nanami’s firm helped Suguru with his parents’ wills after they passed.

“Geto said that Shoko promised she’d make it here for dinner,” Nanami says. “She told him to have a bottle of whiskey ready in the freezer for her.”

You laugh. “Must be a tough day.”

“I wonder if there’s an increase in injuries and accidents near Christmas,” Utahime says.

Nanami’s attention draws to her like a moth to a flame. Even from behind the shine of his glasses, you can see his gaze soften when he looks down at her.

“I would imagine so, right?” she continues. “People drink more… have to deal with their families—their in-laws … I can picture someone driving off in the snow, drunk on a few too many rum and egg nogs, after a blowout fight with some family member with different political views.”

“That’s a pessimistic viewpoint,” you say with a frown. “Maybe there are less hospital admissions because people want to spend more time with their families. Rather than rush to the ER because of some chest pain, they try to tough it out to enjoy the holidays with their grandchildren.”

“Interesting point,” Utahime says with a nod. “We’ll have to remember to ask Shoko when she gets here.”

“Ask me what?”

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Shoko standing in the doorway of Suguru’s kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a reusable bag of presents in the other. She looks tired—exhausted—with bags under her eyes and dry, chapped lips. She’s still wearing her white coat from the hospital. 

“Shoko!”

Utahime steps toward her first, prying the items from Shoko’s hands so she can pull Shoko into a crushing hug. Shoko laughs and her hands come up to press against Utahime’s back to pull her closer. 

“Where are the idiots?”

“Upstairs looking at lights,” you say, stepping to pull her in when Utahime steps away. Shoko smells like a mixture of tobacco and hand sanitizer that you’ve grown to love. Since she’s been trying to quit smoking, the smell of tobacco isn’t quite as strong as it usually is.

After greeting all of you, Shoko tells the three of you about her shift at work—all personal identifying information redacted, of course—seated at the coffee table as she pours herself three fingers of whiskey into a short glass, giving the bottle to Nanami to put in the freezer.

“Did Suguru put one in there for me already?” she asks, looking past you as Nanami pulls open the fridge.

He gazes into it for a moment, searching, before turning back to Shoko. “Doesn’t appear so.”

“That little shit,” she hisses. “He’s got no faith in me, I’m telling ya.” Shoko’s fingers press to her lips, miming a cigarette, before she returns her hand back to her lap. A nervous tic. “I told him to stick it in ages ago, but he never believes me when I tell him I’m coming. I should just do it myself.”

“Have you been visiting often?”

Shoko nods—presses her fingers to her lips, sets her hand back down—before speaking. “Yeah, I come by most nights after my shift.”

That makes sense. You know Suguru hasn’t been sleeping, so of course Shoko would come by to stay with him.

When you and Satoru can’t be there.

“Oh!” Utahime misinterprets Shoko’s explanation, glancing between you and Shoko with excitement. “You spend the night… with Geto?”

Shoko doesn’t even blink. “In his spare room, yeah,” and Utahime visibly deflates. “Suguru’s like my brother, Uta—don’t be gross.”

Your conversation comes to a lull just as you hear the familiar sound of Satoru and Suguru’s feet against his carpeted stairway, moments before they come into view at the kitchen doorway.

“You know,” Suguru says, nodding back toward his living room, “we aren’t kids anymore. We don’t need to cluster around the kitchen at parties, we can sit in the den.”

The group files out of the kitchen to relocate to the living room after Suguru’s prompting, but you linger at the back of the pack so you can finally greet him for the first time this evening.

You step onto your toes to help reach as you wrap your arms around his neck. Suguru places two warm palms against your lower back and pulls you into him until your bodies are flush. He holds you there for a beat with his face pressed into your neck.

Suguru’s chest expands as he takes a long breath, drinking you in and pressing you tighter against him. “Thank you—all of you—for being here today.”

“I haven’t spent Christmas Eve without you since we first met,” you say. “Why would I start now?”

“Thank you for encouraging me to host this tonight. It feels like old times.”

“I promise Satoru and I will stay off the roof tonight.”

He laughs at that and pulls away, turning his face from you to hide his expression and he steps past you and into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some wine for everyone,” he calls, and you join the group in the living room for some drinks and lively conversation before dinner.

The group of you chat amongst yourself throughout the evening. Reminiscing on stories from when the Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko trio were in high school and their drunken recklessness. Silly stories from a drunken Utahime about Nanami from their honeymoon in beautiful Malaysia. And you and Satoru share the trials and tribulations of trying to buy a home together and all of the mindless open-house viewings you’ve been to.

You feel so grown up with everyone here tonight—nothing like the kid you were when you first met them. The Nanamis are married, Shoko is working on finishing her residency, and you and Satoru are about to become homeowners! It almost feels surreal.

At this age, you thought that you’d already be married and pregnant, so you’re a little behind on your life plans, but oddly enough, it doesn’t bother you. You’re happy with how things are in your life with Satoru and he knows what you want, so you feel no sense of urgency to check off items on your life plan.

Suguru smiles throughout the entire evening—really smiles—and it brings such a feeling of warmth and ease in your chest that you don’t want this night to end.

You keep the drinks flowing. Pouring whiskey into Shoko’s cup before she’s even finished what’s left in her glass and topping up everyone else’s wine, even though the more Utahime drinks, the louder she becomes.

Satoru stays sober along with Nanami, the designated driver. But Satoru acts like he’s drunker than anyone else in the room with all of his hooting and hollering and by the way he eggs on Utahime to yell louder and louder.

Dinner goes by in a drunken blur, but after getting some delicious food into your bellies, the group seems to sober up a bit as they grow drowsy from their gluttony.

Nanami and Utahime sit together on the couch in Suguru’s living room, the same couch they sat in together when they first connected at Satoru’s party all those years ago. Even though there’s plenty of room for them to spread out, Utahime is curled against Nanami’s side with his arm casually thrown over the back of the couch. With his free hand, he helps cradle the wine glass in Utahime’s hand, careful not to let the liquid spill as she sways from side to side on her seat.

Suguru reclines back in his armchair, hands clasped together behind his head painting him the picture of relaxation. Shoko sits on the armrest of his chair, leaning into his shoulder every time she laughs.

You and Satoru sit together on the floor. He’s found a way to curl himself around you completely with his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulders while long, lanky legs trap your body on either side.

Your cheeks are warm from the drinks and the company and they hurt from smiling so much. It’s been so long since all of you have been able to get together like this and you selfishly wish that you could stay in this moment forever.

Utahime leans forward, resting her now-empty wine glass on the coffee table and reaching forward for the bottle. She tries to pour more into her glass and wails when only a drop rolls out.

“We’re out of wine!” she cries. “This is a disaster!”

“I’ll go get more.” You volunteer with a laugh, untangling Satoru’s arms from around your body so you can sit up. He whines in your ear but lets you stand up without a fuss.

“I’ll go with you,” Shoko says before downing what’s left of her drink. Her cheeks are flushed dark red, but otherwise, she seems completely normal. She’s always had a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. “I need a refill.”

Utahime gasps in childlike delight, reaching her hands out for both of you as her chin wobbles. “I love you—I love you both, so so so so so so so so so—”

“Yikes, now I see why you guys don’t want kids,” Satoru teases, grinning across the room at Nanami.

“—so so so so so so so so—”

“Alright, alright,” Shoko scolds, reaching out with a hand to squeeze Utahime’s cheeks. Her lips purse together into a pucker as she blinks up at Shoko. “We get it—you love us. Thanks a ton.”

“I jus’ wanna make sure you know,” she says, speaking around Shoko’s grip.

Shoko grins as she releases her and Utahime slumps back against Nanami’s side. Utahime turns to look over at Suguru on the armchair and he regards her with a raised brow.

“And I love you, too,” she says, and you can already hear the waver in her voice as she turns to look at Nanami. “And I love you, most of all.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru calls, raising a hand.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she yells, keeping her back turned to Satoru.

You and Shoko share a look of amusement before stepping out of the chaos and into the kitchen. She grabs her bottle of whiskey and sets her glass down on the counter as she twists the bottle cap, watching you choose from Suguru’s collection of wine for a replacement bottle.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you two are still going strong.”

You pull a bottle of red from Suguru’s shelf and take a look at the label to make sure it’s not too expensive before uncorking it. “Hmm?” you ask from over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“You and Satoru,” she says. You look up to see her taking a slow sip of her drink, levelling her gaze on your face. “We were all tired of the whole, will-they-won’t-they shtick after all these years, but I never thought you two would ever actually end up together.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Shoko must be really drunk if she’s saying something like this, you reason. She’s typically positive-to-apathetic about your relationship with Satoru.

“Why would you say that?” You turn to fully face Shoko now, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shrugs noncomittally, suddenly appearing disinterested in the conversation, but you push.

“No, Shoko. What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean that I always thought the two of you were more interested in the chase than you were in each other.”

Shoko doesn’t even seem guilty about her comment. 

“The one girl that isn’t immediately enamoured by The Satoru Gojo is the one he’s going to obsess about the most,” she continues. “And Satoru really doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What’s my type?”

“You know,” she gestures vaguely at the other room. “The Nanami-type. The Higuruma-type. The guys that own more suits than casual wear and don’t show emotions on their face.”

“I’m not interested in Nanami,” you say, taken aback. “And things between Higuruma and I didn’t work out.”

“But he broke up with you,” she says, pointing her finger at you. “If he hadn’t, I bet you would’ve married him.”

You start to feel a cold sweat on your back. Shoko is one of Satoru’s best friends—from long before you were ever even in the picture. Unlike your banter with Utahime today, this conversation feels serious—loaded.

You straighten your spine, tilting your chin up to try to feign confidence as your heartbeat pounds against your temples. “Did Satoru say something to you or…? I just don’t understand why you’d bring this up all of a sudden.”

Shoko shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. She looks away from you, into the party in the other room as she rolls the liquid in the mouth. After a thick swallow, she returns her attention to you.

“I just think that you have a really rigid life plan—you always have. House, married, kids… you’ve got it all figured out.” Her face softens, “That’s not a bad thing. I think that’s great that you have those aspirations, but—”

The dreaded but.

“—Satoru is a kid at heart. I know he’s happy playing house with you right now, but when it comes to buying a real house together? Proposing? Kids? I just… I think the two of you need to have a serious conversation about that.”

You think about all of Satoru’s snide comments about kids from today—jokes and mocking comments to Nanami and Utahime. Does he really not share the same desires as you?

You’re shaken up by the conversation, but you feel trapped here. You can’t leave without Nanami and the others, and if you go into the other room and request that everyone leaves, it’s going to draw questions.

So, you try to brush off the unease. Shoko is drunk—she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what your relationship with Satoru is really like. She’s just making assumptions.

“Thanks,” you say, even though nothing Shoko said to you is deserving of it.

You stay for a few more hours. Until Utahime is falling asleep on Nanami’s shoulder and the group finishes another bottle of wine.

You kiss Suguru goodbye on the cheek and give him an extra tight squeeze when he holds you close. To Shoko, you just offer a chaste brush of your lips against her face and a side hug.

“Another year without the lights,” Suguru comments, tsking as he points up at the sky. It’s a clear night, but you still haven’t seen the fabled northern lights that Satoru and his friends constantly rave about. “Maybe next year.”

Usually, you would quip back with a witty comment—”Maybe we should be looking for them on other days, too”—but your tongue feels dry in your mouth and you’re only able to respond with a forced smile and a nod.

You’re still rattled by your conversation with Shoko as you walk outside with the others. You settle into the backseat with Utahime even though she yells at Satoru for getting shotgun in her own car (“Do you want me to throw up?” Satoru challenges. “Ruin your beautiful upholstery? Get it in your hair and all over your pretty dress?”) and you all buckle in for the ride home as Shoko and Suguru wave at you from the entryway of his house.

The drive is relatively peaceful. Utahime is fighting sleep against your shoulder and Nanami is quiet, as usual. Even Satoru seems tired from tonight’s events, as he’s silent as he sits up front with Nanami.

The warmth of your home feels hollow when you enter. Spending the drive in your head, thinking about what Shoko said, wasn’t the best way to calm your nerves.

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Satoru’s distress until his hands cup around your face, lifting your head to look into his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes are wide with worry, his face panicked. “You started acting really weird all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?”

Your reflex is to deflect his concerns. Whenever you get moody or upset, it’s rarely Satoru’s fault, but you’re used to him blaming himself for your bad moods. Ever since the fight that you caused at Nanami and Utahime’s wedding—as a result of your own insecurities—Satoru is quick to fall on his sword to keep you from running away from him again.

But right now, he is at fault. At least partially.

“Do you ever talk about me with Suguru and Shoko when I’m not around?”

He frowns. “Uh, sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you ever tell them things that you don’t tell me?”

“Maybe? I don’t know—nothing serious, but maybe like, little stupid things I know you wouldn’t care about—”

“Do you want to have kids, Satoru?”

He jerks back in surprise, blinking down at you. “Uh, woah. That’s quite the left turn—”

“Do you want to get married? Do you even want to buy a house?”

Satoru cocks his head to the side. He stares at you for a beat while his thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that would be there if not for your stubbornness holding them back. 

“I want to be with you,” he says.

“Did you tell Shoko that you don’t want those things?”

“I told Shoko that I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he says. “I’m not sure what I want in life—I don’t think about it the way you do—but I want whatever you want.”

“We talked about it,” you counter, “when you and Suguru were overseas. We talked about it.”

“We talked about you and Higu-what’s-his-face.” Satoru scoffs, leaning back to his full height and waving a hand in the air in dismissal.

You frown and cross your arms over your chest. “But even then, you know what I want, right? I’ve been upfront with you since the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Kids before thirty.”

“I’m twenty-five, now, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have a lot of time left.”

He snorts. “You want us to start trying now? Say less, babe.”

“Satoru, I’m being serious.”

“So am—” he groans, lifting his hands up into his hair and tugging on the strands with his fists. “We’re literally in the process of trying to get a house right now, isn’t this what you want?”

“But is it what you want?!”

“You are what I want!” he insists, growing frustrated. “I’ve always wanted you—from the first time we met and then every day after that. If you want a house—I’ll buy you a house. If you want to get married—let’s get fucking married! And if you want to have kids… if you want kids, then we’ll have kids, ok?”

“Kids aren’t some sort of joke. We’d be bringing a new life into this world.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t just agree to have kids just because I want them. You need to decide for yourself whether or not it’s something you really want or else… or else—”

“Or else you’ll leave me?”

Satoru’s voice is quiet and meek. You’ve been avoiding his gaze throughout the conversation—it’s been too hard to look into those piercing blue eyes while you talk—and now when you look up, you see the worry etched in his face. 

“No, I…” you stumble around your words.

“If I decided next year that I don’t want to have kids, would you stay? Is it really that important to you?”

“I—no… it’s not.”

“I won’t leave you if you want to have kids. I’ll be right there with you, raising those brats,” he grins down at you and your shoulders relax. “And if you decide you don’t want them anymore? I’ll be there, too—hanging out with you in our lavish mansion in all of our DINK glory.”

“DINK?”

“Dual income no kids.”

Satoru steps forward, pressing his palms into your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. He wraps his arms around your body once you’re close and his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

“And yes, I’m freaked out at the idea of having kids—but I’m not scared about our future together. I’ll figure it out by the time you’re thirty, don’t worry, and we can have all the little Gojo’s you want.”

Your hands lift to loosely wrap around Satoru’s body and he squeezes you tighter in response. “I just feel like I’ve had all these plans about how I wanted my life to be and I expected you to want them too… but after talking with Shoko today, I’m scared that I’m just forcing you to do what I want.”

“Let’s just get married and then we can figure out the rest later.”

You snort, finally relaxing in his arms and pressing your face into his chest. His hands are cool on your back as they rub small, gentle circles.

“I think you need to propose first before we get married.”

“Ok, I propose we get married.”

You groan and playfully shove him away. He steps back enough to create some distance between the two of you before grabbing your hands and pulling you back into him, this time with your chin pressed against his chest so you can look up at his smiling face.

After all this time, Satoru’s gotten good at calming down your insecurities. You spent most of the latter half of the evening in mental turmoil about the future of your relationship, but Satoru can put you at ease with a few honest words and physical touch.

You love him.

“I’m sorry if my friends said something stupid to you at the party, but let me make it up to you, ok?”

You smile and close your eyes as Satoru leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why does everything with us always have to be so dramatic?”

“You’re forgetting about all of the boring days we have together,” he says, lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Remember yesterday when we had a perfectly normal day? We ate food, watched tv, and then fucked—end of story.”

“Pretty boring story. Nothing like today.”

“Right—today, we’re fucking twice!”

Satoru scoops you up into his arms, lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap instinctively around his tapered waist while your arms lock around his shoulders, allowing him to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You giggle into his neck while he huffs up the stairs, feigning effort despite the fact that he carries you to bed every night with ease. He walks until he’s right at the foot of the bed and then launches you onto the mattress and out of his grip.

The blankets are soft against your skin as you fall back into them, bouncing slightly from Satoru’s toss. Your eyes rake across his body as he moves his hands to grab the bottom hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his head to expose his naked torso.

Satoru throws his hoodie off to the side with a sigh before ruffling the hair on the top of his head. “What do you think?” he hums, reaching down for his belt.

Your mouth waters as you watch the tendons in his hands flex when he pulls at his belt, pulling it from the buckle with a metallic clink! Satoru clicks his tongue for your attention and when your gaze swings up to his face, his brows are raised—expectantly waiting for your response.

“Huh?” you say, dazed.

Satoru laughs. He languidly pulls the belt free from the loops of his jeans before working on the button—then the zipper—before sliding his pants off of his hips and onto a heap on the floor around his feet.

“I said—”

He grabs at the bulge in his briefs, squeezing it with a grunt as he settles his knee onto the mattress near your feet. The bed dips from his weight and you sink in his direction. Your face feels warm and you can already feel your breathing deepen as you watch Satoru’s eyes darken.

“—will you let me take care of you tonight?”

You hum in thought, rolling your head to the side until your cheek rests on your shoulder. Satoru’s long, lithe fingers wrap around your ankle and bring it up to press into his chest. His hands curl around the top of your stocking and pull it down over your foot, exposing your skin the to cool air. He lifts your foot to his face and presses a tender kiss to the arch of your foot.

“So?” he prompts. He brushes his lips across the sole of your foot, moving to the top of your foot to press another soft kiss.

“I dunno, Satoru…” you say, pursing your lips into the corner of your mouth.

He trails his lips up to your ankle, kissing there.

“No?”

Satoru’s hands move up the length of your calf, following his touch with his mouth as he slots your leg over his shoulder. The position has your legs spreading open for him, exposing the lacy panties you have on underneath your dress—the ones that Satoru helped you pick out—until you can feel the cool air against the damp patch on your crotch.

“You don’t want me to—” he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, wet and slow while his gaze stays fixed on your face, “—worship you?”

“I feel like I haven’t been fair to you.”

His brows twitch in intrigue, but he continues his ascent up your leg as he leans in for another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he teases your skin with his tongue and a small amount of pressure as he sucks on the skin. The action makes you squirm and his eyes light up with delight.

“S’ok.” Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he moves to brush his cheek and nose along your inner thigh. The skin on his face is soft and smooth, adding to the heat and need building between your legs.

Despite your desire to have his face move higher and higher still, you reach down with your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He purrs against your skin, lashes fluttering when you tug on the white strands and pull his head up to face you.

“Let me take care of you tonight, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

He crawls up the length of your body, keeping your leg over his shoulder as he slots between your open thighs. Your body curls in on itself as he leans forward and the warmth of Satoru’s breath against your cheek when he presses his forehead into yours has your mind swimming.

Satoru nudges your nose with his while his hands move to the bottom hem of your dress. “You wanna take care of me?” he coos.

His hands drag the fabric up your body—up up up—tracing the curves of your body with his palms until he’s pulling your dress over your head and exposing you to him completely. His breath shudders when he looks down at your matching, lacy set.

“Fuck, princess—you can do whatever you want to me.”

You giggle, pressing forward to meet his lips with yours. Satoru returns the kiss with fervour while you adjust the position of your leg, moving it off of his shoulder and wrapping it around his hips. His heart pounds under your palm when you press it against his chest and you use the momentum of your kiss to roll Satoru onto his back with you straddling around his hips.

Satoru’s grinning with excitement when you pull away. He’s flushed pink from his cheeks to his chest and you can feel the firmness of his cock beneath you. 

“Take care of me,” he purrs, moving his hands down to your hips to rock you against his length.

This moment feels reminiscent of this morning. The two of you wrapped up in the sheets together, fighting off a sleepy haze as the arousal builds in your gut. You run your fingers down his chest, watching his body shiver with goosebumps in their wake until your fingers curl over the waistband of his underwear.

You shift your position and drag Satoru’s underwear down with you. His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric until it slaps up against his stomach. The tip is flushed red and shiny with precum and it twitches when you move onto your hands and knees between Satoru’s spread thighs.

He tucks both arms behind his head, propping himself up to watch as you grab the base of his cock. You give him a few slow, experimental strokes, and watch as the tip leaks more translucent precum.

Satoru’s breathing is strained—ragged—as his gaze follows your movements. You run your tongue across the seam of your lips as your hand moves the length of his cock toward your mouth.

You start by blowing cool air through pursed lips and watch as Satoru’s abs flex hard in response. He groans when you bring your hand up along his length, thumbing at the spilled precum and smearing it across the soft tip of his cock. 

“Put it in your mouth,” he says, voice wavering. “Please, please—I need to see you sucking on it.”

You respond by opening your mouth and letting your tongue hang out. You lean forward, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock and Satoru’s head falls back with a throaty moan.

He flops his gaze forward as you rub your tongue along his length. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, the skin turning white from the pressure as his lids droop. Satoru looks like he’s in a daze as he watches you lick along his cock.

“Come on,” he urges, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look. “You said you weren’t being fair—don’t tease me.”

You grin. “Yeah, ok. Sorry.”

Your free hand comes up to cradle his balls, the weight of them settling perfectly into your palm as you hover your lips over the tip of his cock. Satoru’s chest is heaving with want, hands balled into tight fists against the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

“Please.”

The head of his cock is slippery when you slide it past your lips. When it hits your tongue, you taste that familiar saltiness of skin and precum. Satoru’s jaw falls slack, brows pitching up into his forehead as he watches—mesmerized—as you take him in, inch by thick inch.

Your tongue smooths along the underside of his cock as you bob your head along his length. Your body tries to resist the intrusion as you poke and prod at your tight throat with every movement and drool spills down from the sides of your mouth, over your knuckles, and along the veins of his cock.

Satoru whimpers, his usually bright blue eyes turning hazy from his arousal. “Ohhh, fuck—just like that, holy shit.”

His hips buck up into your mouth, urging himself deeper and deeper and pushing past the tight ring of your throat as you press your nose into the white hairs at his base. Satoru’s thighs twitch when you swallow around his cock before you pull back up to cough for air as thick strings of spit trail between you.

“Please, baby—it feels so good, keep going.”

His hand lifts from the bed to press against the back of your head, guiding you until your lips are wrapped around him again. He moans, keeping light pressure against the back of your head to hold you in place as he fucks up into your face.

“Shit, I wish you could see yourself—my pretty girl with spit all over her chin and my cock down her throat.”

He bites hard around his lower lip as your hand starts to move in tandem with his hips. His cock pulses against your palm as you slide along the shaft and you can feel the pull of his balls towards his body as he gets close.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines, cheeks turned completely pink. His stomach flexes hard, twitching as he fights back his orgasm. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around the tip of his cock before pulling off of him completely, swatting his hand away from the back of your hand as you rest both hands on his hips.

“No, no, no—” he whimpers, his hips rutting uselessly against the air as his cock slaps against his stomach. “Come back—please, please, please.”

You lean down to press a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before sitting up on your knees. Satoru watches with rapt attention as you climb into his lap, sliding your palms up his torso as you do so until they land on his chest.

He falls back against the mattress with the lightest touch, letting your weight hold him down as you straddle around his hips. Satoru’s hands flex and twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t touch you.

“You wanna ride it?” He asks, breathless.

You don’t answer but lean forward instead. Your chest presses against his and he tilts his face up expectantly, mouth open and breath shuddering. His white lashes flutter against his cheeks when they fall closed and he nudges your nose with his, searching for your lips.

When you finally meet, Satoru’s hands come up at last—one clutching the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. The kiss is rabid—frenzied—just a blur of lips and tongue and teeth as Satoru’s hips grind against yours.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, “I love you.”

Your hands slide up from between your bodies, ghosting across the ridges of his collarbone, along the length of his neck, until they burrow amongst the strands of his hair. Satoru moans into you when your fingers weave around him, tugging against the hair at its roots.

“Fuck—” he hisses, nipping at your lip with his teeth. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I know,” you hum, grinning as you pull your lip free from Satoru’s bite.

You sit back up on Satoru’s lap, shifting your hand between your legs to reach for Satoru’s cock. He grunts when you take hold of it and it kicks against your palm—still sensitive, you note.

“Are you going to last, Satoru?” you purr, guiding him until the soft head slides against the mess between your thighs. You ache for him, too.

“Probably not,” he admits, teeth clenched. “Consider it a compliment.”

“That’s ok—”

You lower yourself down and Satoru’s cock presses into you. You both suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, and your body takes over as your hips roll against him.

“—I want you to cum, Satoru.”

He closes his eyes, face twisted in agony as you sink down completely until your hips are flush with his. You’re so wet, you can already see the slick arousal coating the hair at the base of his cock. Satoru twitches inside of you and your body squeezes around him in reaction—he feels so big, so thick, so satisfying.

“Don’t say that or I’m gonna lose it,” he says, voice strained.

You roll your hips up—and then back down again—landing with a wet squelch! in Satoru’s lap as your pussy squeezes and drools around his cock. You moan at the feeling and every nerve in your body seems to come alive, burning from your toes to your fingertips as you rock in his lap.

“Oh shit—” he groans, stomach flexing as his back arches off the mattress, changing the angle of his cock inside of you, and you feel another surge of electricity shoot up your spine, “—fuck, please stop sounding so fucking sexy.”

You bounce in his lap, feeling the slap of his thighs against your ass with every movement and Satoru’s hands shift up to grab your hips. You think he’s going to stop you—hold you flush against him until the tide of his orgasm subsides—but instead, he digs fingers into the meat of your hips and helps guide you along his length.

With Satoru’s help, every bounce has the tip of his cock brushing directly against your sweet spot. Combined with the way Satoru is writhing and fighting back an orgasm beneath you, you feel the telltale surge of your own climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with arousal, “you’re squeezing me so tight—ahh, holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” you beg, feeling the haze creep into your mind as you chase your orgasm. “I want you to cum, Satoru—need it—please, I love you.”

His grip turns painful—blunt nails biting into your skin as Satoru’s body tenses beneath you. He babbles out your name, squirming and whimpering as you feel each pulse of his cock deep inside of you, spilling and filling you with the warmth of his cum.

But you keep going—bouncing in his lap, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against him—as you feel the pressure building in your gut.

Satoru’s whimpers turn into panicked hisses and his squirming to jerky twitches as his cock turns sensitive from the stimulation. He pants beneath you, his chest expanding in collapsing with every deep breath as he moans out.

“Oh, fuck—”

He can hardly speak between each breath. Between each guttural moan as your pussy squeezes around the length of his cock.

“—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—fuck, it’s—so much—”

His feet kick out behind you, toes curling as his face twists. The mess between your bodies becomes thicker— sticky —from his cum and the slide of your clit against the hair at the base of his cock turns sinful.

His abs tighten when your hands move to rest upon them, using the leverage to bounce harder in his lap.

“Satoru—oh god— I’m gonna cum—”

Satoru can only offer you a strangled whimper in response and you feel the kick of his cock inside you as he cums again.

The feeling of being flooded by his seed has you in a daze. Through sharp, staccato breaths you moan out his name, each syllable punctuated by the squeeze of your pussy as you cum around his cock. You curl forward as your stomach tenses, your body quaking from the tremors of your climax.

Your knees squeeze around Satoru’s hips and his hands lift up. One arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—much like before—and he pulls you close into his chest. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and his skin, even hotter. Your chests press against one another for space as you each take heaving breaths until the haze of your arousal finally clears.

Satoru’s cock, soft and soaked, slips from between your thighs when you sit up. His eyelids are heavy, his gaze dreamy, and he’s got a goofy grin painted across his face when you look down at him.

You brush away the sweaty, white strands from his forehead and he crinkles his nose up at you in delight.

“So?” he says, voice still airy and weak. “How’d I do?”

“Not your best work,” you tease.

You swing your leg over his hips and settle into the bed beside him. Your thighs feel sticky and your body is covered in sweat, but you still curl into Satoru and let him pull you into him.

“Liar,” he tsks, nose brushing against your cheek.

You laugh to yourself, burying your face into his chest. “Ok, fine. It was great—amazing, even!—The best lay I ever had.”

Satoru presses a tender kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, “That better be my name in your phone the next time I check it—The Best Lay I Ever Had.”

🏷️taglist: @luvsymai @pdacex @jaegersity

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (50)

Part 1- Part 48 / Part 49 /

Created: March 24th, 2024

Last Checked:—-

Under the Aurora Borealis at Night-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Katniss doesn’t want to face her past mistakes, but she can’t skip Finnick and Annie’s destination wedding in Alaska over the winter holidays. Under the spell of the Northern Lights, Katniss finally accepts that Peeta’s the love of her life. Under the Bridge-Gamemakers (ao3)  Summary: Freshly graduated and ready for anything, a sleepy Midwestern town is hardly enough for Annie. Until We Disappear-ellembee (ao3)  Summary: “She’s supposed to be the lucky one. The victor. She never has to worry about being hungry or cold. Her family is safe, fed, cared for. She never has to suffer again. But she suffers endlessly.” Katniss & Peeta after winning the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Unwanted Advances-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Cato won't stop flirting with her no matter how many times she rejects him. Finally, she gives up and tells him one thing guaranteed to stop his unwanted advances. Up In Awesome-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Peeta's enthusiasm for fireworks is something Katniss had no idea existed until they go shopping together. Veil of Darkness-Hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Peeta’s hijacking uncovers a rage so intense it’s best described as wrath. Warning Sign-ellembee (ao3)  Summary: All Detective Peeta Mellark wants is to save Katniss from herself. But some people don’t want to be saved. Welcome to the Hellmouth-FanficAllergy, RoseFyre (ao3)  Summary: Panem, California was supposed to be a sleepy little town with an oddly disproportionate number of cemeteries. The Everdeens had moved there in order to give their eldest daughter, Katniss, a fresh start. Little did they know just how mistaken they were. Thankfully there's an all night bakery and a coffee shop on every corner. Well, That Was Awkward-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: This can’t be happening, but it is. Werewolf-thesweetnessofspring (ao3)  Summary: Caesar Flickerman has a Halloween party to play Werewolf. Katniss gets a role she was never prepared for and now her fate in the game is inextricably tied to another player.

[mastermasterlist1p1]

Stuff i like

Anyone has some good stories without the smut? I don't care about the fandom

Whump :

[tw choking, manhandling, captivity, stockholm syndrome, masochistic whumpee]

Vampire x human whumpee (A centuries old vampire takes in a mortal bloodbag as a gift from his maker. )

some Stockholm

what's best

giving information

Two Weeks of Whump Masterpost

The Scry Masterlist

Clove Masterlist

The Scry

🩸 Kane & Jim Masterlist🩸

Blood catalase

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old bones

The Promise

White moves first pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

Bruises

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JJK :

defiance masterlist | king!sukuna x servant!reader by @yenayaps

moments in twilight (sukuna basically in love)

Yuuta x reader (basically yuuta is like a yandere but reader is okay with it, literally the best one I've read I LOVE IT)

Haunted (toji x reader)

synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.

tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞. Pt.2

AURORA BOREALIS GREEN

Bad Habit (hitman!tōji fushiguro x reader | 17k) (this THIS 😻😻😻)

Say yes to heaven (gojo)

Beat of my heart pt.2 (college au - drummer! gojo x psychology major! reader)

Shameless (king to be gojo x f! Servant)

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! (Gojo)

Taking what's not yours (bully gojo) masterlist pt.1

Jjk fanfics

𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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Hero, villain and stuff :

Protective ( villain x villain stuff, Supervillain swoops in to help them out of their misery )

Hero x villain (hero has wings and she's basically a monster)

Some romantic hero x villain 😏

Hero x medic

Bodily Responses

"I love you."

Hero got amnesia

Mutually Assured Destruction (DAAMAMMMNNNNN EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ IT)

Hero has amnesia from an injury Villain caused. Guilty, Villain took them in until their memory returns

A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

Kidnapped by the Boss pt.6

First meeting (dork villain and hero)

Sweet dreams : pt.1 pt.10

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Masterlists :

@treasuringizu masterlist

Watercolorfreckles masterlist

Masterlist of oddsconvert (whumpee stuff)

Masterlist of thepenultimatword

Jazz's Master List

Neptunsopening

arealphrooblem masterlist

im-a-wonderling's masterlist

treasuringizu's masterlist

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Mixte1963 :

Joseph Descamps x Michel pt.2 pt.3 (it's on Ao3 ) A Mixte 1963/Voltaire High fanfiction about Michèle Magnan and Joseph Descamps

Joseph Descamps x reader

I don't know

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BNHA :

Deku × reader (ok so deku is a pro hero famous and stuff but he's lonely and needs a partner, meets reader and decides to date her but reader is a thief. I won't die peacefully unless there's a pt 2)

Katsuki x reader (divorced, it's Christmas)

He hadn't meant to fall in love. (Katsuki x reader)

Shigaraki being touched starved

Love like a ghost (shigaraki x reader)

Yandere Vampire!Shoto x Human!reader

Touya x reader

vitality : pt.1

Accidental Boyfriend (tomura x reader)

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Denji with a Codependent gf!

.

Some stuff I didn't read yet

Hmm1

Hmm2

"creature of myth."

[m3loria]

PARADISE JUST FOR THE TWO OF US..

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒  i think my heart is ready to die

멜리오라 ─── meaning ❛ for the pursuit of the better ❜ is a fictional south korean boy group formed and managed by l♡uvix audio & sonata media. they debuted on may 1st 2020 with the extended play ❛ BOREALIS ❜ with a fixed lineup of thirteen members.

﹟masterlist ? by isa .

[kookieswan]

Shades of Us - Suga Puff

Poly!NamGi x Reader

Word Count: 700+ words

Genre: Poly!AU, College!AU, a nice mix of Angst, Fluff, and Humor! Established relationship this time around.

Warnings: MC is a little stressed out, nothing major though! Just the usual college horrors.

Notes: A request from my baby @sugarflywme. I hope you like it love ♥️🤍

Find the Shades of Us Masterlist here! 🎨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What… the… fuck…?” You blink once, twice, thrice at the absolute masterpiece that sits in your living room as you waddle out of your bedroom, blanket clutched tightly around yourself. It’s still a complete mess, the floor covered in newspaper and splattered paint, brushes strewn about as you hastily tried to make something work. Tried to make anything work.

Nothing worked though. Nothing and Yoongi and Joon had watched in worry as you nearly ripped your hair out in frustration. It should have been a simple abstract painting for your Painting III level class and instead it turned into a sad little blob of hatred.

They tried their best to support you, quietly giving you food or refilling your coffee when it ran out, and you appreciate it so damn much. They had even tried to give pointers, Yoongi especially insightful since he has his toes more than dipped into the art world… But this…

“So in my defense, I told big titties over here that he was adding too much pink.” You shuffle closer to the canvas, rubbing your eyes in hopes that the pink fluffy blob will turn into something else. It does not.

“You can never have enough pink! It looks good still…?” Namjoon steps closer behind you, keeping a safe distance as you finally stand directly in front of the easal. When you had left it last night, the painting was something of a sky. A very swirly messed up sky, but still a sky with clouds and something akin to the aurora borealis. Now…

“It looks like a flamingo puked on it.” It does. There’s an obscene amount of pinks and some purple swatched in, and upon closer inspection, the blob has little wings… and a face. It has a fucking face that looks strangely like UwU.

“We named it ‘Suga Puff’. He is friendly and likes cheese.” Of course he likes cheese. That would explain the little yellow dot on the side of its mouth. Turning to look back at your boyfriends, the way they immediately cringe would be apparent to anyone. To be fair, you’re not sure if you want to laugh hysterically or cry till you dry up.

“… Thank you for adding in Suga Puff. He’s very… Charming.” You all stare at each other for a solid ten seconds before you burst into laughter, unable to contain all the emotions that you’ve been harboring the past few days. They laugh with you until you start to cry, their faces turning to horror before they’re both on you, your blanket dropping to the ground.

“Oh no baby we’re so sorry it’s okay please don’t cry-“ Joon starts rambling, effectively embracing both you and Yoongi as the smaller man holds you close and kisses the side of your head. He doesn’t say a word but his silence is a comfort on its own. He knows how stressful your art courses can be, you’ve seen him lose his shit before. Sometimes it’s just better to let it all out.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s so cute and I think it’s adorable and your were just trying to help…” Namjoon hugs you tighter for a second before loosening his grip, allowing Yoon to pull back. He kisses your cheek while Namjoon leans in and kisses the other, both of your boyfriends finally smiling, dimpled and gummy, as you giggle quietly.

“No need to apologize sweetheart. We’ll help you whip up something new, you still have a week. Now, how about we eat breakfast, yeah?” You hum and nod, Namjoon leading you over to the couch while Yoongi wanders over to the kitchen. You honestly couldn’t ask for better boyfriends…

“Do you losers want pancakes or waffles? Or both?” You call back that you want strawberry pancakes, partially because you love them and partially because Yoongi does too. Plopping down on the couch, you lean into Joon, eyes appraising the beautiful art work your loves crafted from your mistakes. In all honesty, it actually is pretty darn cute.

“I hope you know I’ll be hanging that up in the living room for everyone to see. I’m quite proud of our collaboration.” Namjoon nods proudly to himself, a long arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you in. You cuddle closer, quietly smiling to yourself as Yoongi yells about potentially burning the house down.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”