#prodigal son fluff

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Cute As A Button (Martin Whitly Drabble)

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged!

Summary: Martin will do anything to make you smile.

CW: tickling? Is that a warning idk, fluff, flirting

Prodigal Son tag list: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“Mm- God, I could just murder that cute little smile of yours,” Martin says, flicking your nose with his finger. He’d made you laugh with some joke about camels and humps. A cheesy thing, but as long as it made you laugh that was what mattered. “My darling, you are just cute as a button.” 

You roll your eyes, pressing a hand into his face to shove him away playfully. Martin bites at your hand, delighting in the way you yank it back and scoff at him in disbelief. 

“What?!” He drawls, a wicked grin spreading across his cheeks. “Really, you cannot mean to imply you would not have done the same thing, my dear.” He pauses. “ And if you did, I wouldn’t believe you.” 

You hum with an accusatory tone, and Martin yanks you into his arms, pulling you down onto the bed and rolling you over so that he’s above you. 

“Ah-hah!” He shouts victoriously, curls dropping in front of his eyes. The shock fades and you laugh gleefully, doing your best to knee him in the ribs. “Oh, that’s not playing nicely, dearest,” he scolds, though there’s no heat to it. 

“Well, if we’re not playing fair…” Martin trails off, eyeing you up and down hungrily. Your stomach tightens and your breath hitches. 

Suddenly his hands are on your sides, digging into your ribs and forcing shrieks and wails of laughter out of you. Your legs kicked and your arms swatted at him as you struggled to get a breath in between the giggles. 

Martin’s head dropped down to your neck, pressing kiss after kiss along the column of your throat, your shoulders, and your clavicle. With his weight pressed on top of you there was nothing you could do but squirm under his hands. 

Martin laughed, raising himself off you only to pull you into a deep, loving kiss. His hands still on your ribs, giving one more possessive squeeze. You sigh into the kiss, melting from the attention.

You were so in love with him that it was ridiculous.

Not that he was complaining, of course. 

[writethrough]

Hi ;) I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but if you do, may I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? TW : Self-h*rm, anxiety, depression, ED, mental illness.

Reader and Malcolm are very close friends so they both lovingly care about each other. Reader hasn't been answering any of his calls and messages for a few days, which is unlike her 'cause she always picks up the phone when he calls her. He starts to grow more and more worried, especially because he knows about her mental health struggles. So naturally he decides to go check on her. When he arrives he finds her in a very bad state : depression, anxiety, ED and Self h*rm have been hitting her harder that usual. He stays in at her house for a few days to take care of her, which includes reassuring her when she gets panic attacks, telling her that he strongly cares about her and that nothing will make him leave her, laying beside her to help her sleep, hugging her etc. Eventually she starts to feel a bit better.

I know it's very emotionally charged, both with dark stuff and comfort/care stuff, so if you feel like you can't do it, it's totally okay, I understand. Do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.

Please take care 🤍 Sending you hugs.

To Make It Through

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Insinuations of self-harm, ED, depression, anxiety, and mental illness.

Word Count: 1203

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to begin writing this. The most important goal for me was writing this with respect to those who suffer from self-harm, depression, mental illness, ED, and anxiety. I have never experienced the first four, but I’ve dealt with mild to moderate anxiety, I believe since I was young (I’d like to add, I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor for anxiety). I have no idea what someone who lives with these struggles goes through. I wanted this to be a comforting story, one that hopefully brings a little light to everyone who reads it.

I didn't want to include too many details that could be triggering or potentially disrespectful to those who deal with the topics above.

And to anyone who is suffering and in need of help, below are different hotlines and resources.

National Eating Disorders Association

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline

The Trevor Project

National Institute of Mental Health

Malcolm unlocked your front door with the extra key you gave him.

It’d been three days since he last heard from you—no responses to his texts. No calls or video chats, not even a dumbass meme. And he was worried.

You were religious in your response time to him. Honestly, he had no idea how you could send a text off so quickly.

First, he noticed the dishes on your counter. A few days' worth. Then, the blanket was on the floor instead of folded neatly over the couch. Your curtains were drawn tight, and the couple of plants you had were a little less lively than when he was here last week.

He slowly pushed your bedroom door open so as not to startle you.

It was difficult to see through the darkness, but from what he could tell, clothes were thrown around the room. And he could make out a thin layer of dust on your bookshelf.

He took in your curled state under your comforter. Only the top of your head peeked out.

He didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. You’d known each other long enough for him to recognize the signs.

After slipping his shoes and coat off, he gently lowered himself beside you. He didn’t move the covers or speak, only placed a hand close enough to your back so you could feel him while not being touched. 

He didn’t know if you were awake, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait however long it took until you were ready to acknowledge him.

He wondered when you last ate—those dishes were probably older than he thought. He tried to recall if there were any warning signs he should’ve picked up on when he was here last time. But you seemed fine.

You were also very good at hiding it.

About an hour later, you shifted to face him, still beneath the blankets.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He whispered your name. You didn’t move.

He tried again. “Can I do anything for you?”

You sniffled, and his heart nearly broke.

“Can I move the blanket, honey?” he asked.

The top of your head moved slowly in a nod.

He hooked a finger and pulled down carefully, revealing water-lined eyes with bags under them.

He thought as much. When things worsened, you never slept well.

“What do you need?” he whispered as gently as he could.

You didn’t look at him as your hand emerged to clutch your pillowcase.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

He nodded. He couldn’t let you stay like this.

“Then, could you do something for me? I know you won’t want to, but you can come right back. I promise.”

You glanced at him, then looked away. As much of an acknowledgment as he would get.

“Go take a shower. Take as long as you need,” he said.

You didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, and he took that as more of a bad sign than anything.

Once your bathroom door closed, he stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After replacing the sheets, he put the discarded clothes in your hamper and tossed any trash he spotted. He kept the blinds closed. Baby steps.

He was finishing putting the dishes away when you walked out in a towel and back into your room to change.

You didn’t ask what he was doing or tell him he didn’t have to do it. You almost ignored him.

You had already returned to bed when he entered. This time, you were against the headboard, staring off into space.

He sat beside you.

Your hands rested above the covers, wrists on display, and his shoulders relaxed.

It hadn’t gotten that bad.

He let you have your silence. Sometimes it was what you needed.

“Why are you friends with me?”

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Because I need you,” he said.

It was all he thought to say. Superficial compliments wouldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Hopefully, you’d believe him.

You shook your head. “You deserve better.”

He wanted to shield you from your own words. 

“(Y/N), I need you to look at me,” he said. And when you didn’t, he repeated himself. “Please?”

You glanced at him, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked gently.

You shook your head slowly, hunching your shoulders.

“I will always always tell you the truth,” he said. “You’re my best friend. That’s never going to change, okay?” He carefully pulled your hand between his. “I care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re never going to get rid of me.”

You sniffled, glancing at him through your lashes.

Tears lined his own eyes, threatening to spill forth.

You were his best friend. He’d be lost without you, and he needed you to know that he’d never go anywhere, that he belonged by your side. You made him feel seen. You made him feel sane.

Whatever you needed from him, he would give.

“Can you…Can you hold me?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He answered by laying on his back, waiting for you to settle on his chest, hands still connected.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

—

Malcolm stayed with you for the next few days. He even called Gil and said he had to take a personal day, much to Gil’s surprise and pleasure. Thankfully, Gil didn’t ask any questions. Malcolm never would’ve broken your trust like that.

Today was the first day you had gotten dressed. Malcolm considered that a massive sign you were starting to feel more like yourself.

“How’re you feeling?” He took in every feature of your face, searching for the most minute twitch.

“I’m…I’m better.” You nodded slowly. “I’m not okay. I know that, but I’m better than I was. Not everything’s as…dark.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sympathetic smile. His fingers found yours, holding them lightly.

“All healing takes time. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” His eyes stayed locked with yours, nothing but sincerity in them.

You swallowed. “Thank you.”

He shook his head slightly. “You never need to thank me for doing something I want to do.”

It brought tears to your eyes—how kind he was. Malcolm was the only person you could trust with everything. He knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, to hate so many parts of yourself that you want to rip out.

And each time you were on the verge of relapsing, he’d pull you away from the edge. As you’d done for him.

“Why don’t we take a walk? See how many squirrels we can feed,” he said, offering you his arm.

Your face lifted, not a smile, but not so melancholy as it had been.

“Okay.”

Grasping the crook of his elbow, you interlocked your fingers there and let him lead you outside.

The sun's warmth sunk into your skin as Malcolm launched into what his mother was trying to rope him into. And when the first chuckle in a week passed your lips, the darkness didn’t feel so encompassing anymore.

Taglist: @phenomenal-bird

If anyone would like to be added to my taglist, please comment or message me and tell me which character you'd like to receive updates on.

[minty-bunni]

My time in the DP fandom has seriously messed up my sense of what things are and are not dead doves.

We're over here going 'vivisection but make it a family bonding activity' and 'serious levels of body horror :)' while tagging everything with character death and trying to make things even worse for Danny. Today I learned that most places consider stuff we think of as common fandom tropes to be dead dove.

Like cannabalism and parents knowingly vivisecting their own child.

[fansformentalydistroyedmen]

Last Names

A Malcolm Bright x Reader Fan fic

Your last name is a secret his is hidden can this love start and survive with two traumatized people. Dumb parents

Chapter 1- The Meeting

“Hold on Sam! Don’t let go! I’m trying, the rope just won’t cut. No Sam! Sam! Mom! Dad!” I sit up fast panting and hot tears running. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. I rub my eyes and look at the clock. It was about 5 in the morning. An hour of sleep is not too bad. I roll out of bed and straight into the shower. Trying to be as fast as possible I don’t even bother trying to warm up the shower. It’s not the day to try and get over my fear of water. As I watch my hands shake as I try to scrub my hair I close my eyes and as always, there they are just like always, haunting me. “Go away.” I whisper desperately. Opening my eyes and being blinded by sunlight as it floods my bathroom. I finish up and get out, quickly getting ready for work. I grab my phone and walk out of my apartment. As soon as the door opens I can hear the busy city of New York. The loud car horns, the screaming people, and of course the sound of construction. I wave down a taxi and get in thanking the driver. As he drives away I stare out the window letting my leg bounce up and down. It’s a bright day, the sun is way too bright, not a cloud in sight. This city is terrible to live in with constant migraine but you learn to deal with the pounding in your head. I rummage through my purse and pop a couple of my daily meds, an anti anxiety, some to help with the migrain, then a few for panic attacks, and so on and so just anything they claim will help, they never really do. The rest of the taxi ride is quiet as I let my head fall back. Once my ride comes to a stop I pay and get out. I walk into the police precinct. Immediately I am flooded with familiar sounds and faces making me relax. I walk over to my desk throwing my stuff on the table. I slump into my chair and rub my face. Soon someone taps me on my shoulder, my friend Dani.

“You look tired.” She hands me a cup of coffee. I am immediately overwhelmed with the smell of terrible coffee. I smile and take a sip, is it disgusting, yes, will it only be one of thirteen, again yes.

“Thanks.” I take another sip

“You look tired, late night?” She smirks.

“Yep you know the fun stuff, insomnia, nightmares, and the occasional attack from my cat, Penny.”

“Boring you really got me excited in the beginning.” She says with a slight frown. I raise my eyebrow.

“Really you had even the slightest of hopes my night went different. Do you even know me.” I laugh. She rolls her eyes at me and walks to her desk. I start to fill out some boring paperwork and continue with my coffee. Until my Boss and Mentor Gill walks out.

“We’ve got a case!” He yells out as he throws a coat over his shoulders. With that everyone on my team gets up and leaves. I jump into Gill's car and he starts driving while Dani and my other team member JT follow behind us.

“So how are you doing?” Gill starts with his usual questions.

“You know, fine nothing exciting.” I shrug.

“How's the nightmares?” Again with the questions.

“Preventing me from sleeping but I got a whole hour last night.” With that Gills chuckles.

“So what about the migraine?” Listen, all these questions are sweet but my answers never change.

“Painful but bearable.” Once again I reply now for the lecture.

“You know if you drank more water instead of the, what is that your fifth cup of coffee this morning?”

“6th thanks for underestimating me.” I can see his eye roll. The rest of the car ride is quiet besides the tap of my foot on the floor. Once we arrive I get out but Gill stays.

“I’ll be back, just head upstairs.” I look at him weirdly but follow his instructions. I walk up the stairs and show my I.D. I see Dani and JT so I walk up to them.

“So what do we have?”

A single homicide looks pretty straight forward.” JT claims.

“Boring.” I groan realizing that was said out loud and not just in my head.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean that I just mean it shouldn't be too bad. No no of course her murder was bad I...never mind.” I bite my lip trying to shut up as JT shakes his head. We all start examining her body. Something felt wrong with this case. It was just a feeling but something was off. A couple minutes later I hear Gill talking to Dani and JT and they do not seem happy. I must of zoned out and missed something. I look straight forward only to be met with bright blue eyes.

“Holy!” My hand goes for my heart.

“Sorry you scared me.’ I shake my head.

“Oh sorry ma’am.” The strange man says. My head tilts in curiosity. Who was he and why was he so comfortable in a crime scene. I watch the wheels in his head turn as he stares at the lady.

“Can I help you?” His eyes shoot up to look me dead in the eye.

“Oh sorry, I just haven’t seen you around here before. Normally it's all the same people. I’m Y/N by the way, not that it matters.’ I smile

“Hi Y/N, I'm Malcolm Bright, a Consultant.” He smiles softly but as soon as he said his last name something went off in my head.

“Not to be blunt but why did you just lie to me about your last name?” I ask as curiosity takes over.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry when you said your last name you blinked a few extra times, that's a tell for when people lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You just did it again, the whole blinking thing.”

“I’m not lying, you must be mistaken.” He looks down at the body again.

“Why do you keep lying, you must be a terrible liar.”

“Listen, ignore the blinking thing, why did you introduce yourself with just your first name is the question? People normally use their last name.” I bite my lip at that.

“I don’t like being called by my last name, that’s my parents name not mine.”

“If you won’t tell me the truth I won’t tell you either.” He looks back at the body, I narrow my eyes at the strange man in front of me. Who was he? Why was he here? Questions flooded my head. I was caught off guard when he stood up quickly. He looked angry, I hope I didn’t upset him. Just then he starts going off about how this was a copycat of the surgeon. He went into the surgeon with a fine tooth comb. It was crazy the amount of details he knew about this case. He later stormed out of the apartment and Gill followed. I closely trailed him. He was my ride back and if he was leaving I was too. I could see them arguing. Soon Gill caught a glimpse of me so I walked out.

“Time to go back to the precinct?” Gill rubbed his face.

“Yeah, Bright gets to sit up front he’s older.” My eyes widened but I did not have the energy to argue as my head started to pound even harder.

“Fine whatever.” I exclaim as I rub my eyes and get into the back of the car. Malcolm stares at me weirdly as he gets into his seat. The car ride is quiet which I accept gratefully as it now felt like my head was going to burst open all over the backseats. Once we arrive at the precinct everyone trails into the conference room and starts talking over the case. I sit in my chair with my knees pulled up to my chest as Malcolm goes over a Profile of the killer. Once he is finished people start to trail out of the room as I stare at the board soaking in everything. Malcolm shows up behind me.

“So see anything?’ I gasp at the sudden person and noise behind me.

“Sorry, no, geez what do you have with scaring me.” I rub my eyes viciously.

“I don’t do it on purpose, just Y/N.” He says snarkily.

“Oh so that's how it's going to be Malcolm. So you're a profiler?”

“Yep and I can profile you and anyone else.”

“Ah really.” I laugh

“Yep like I can tell that either you're high on anxiety or that’s your 9th cup of coffee. Which is because you haven’t slept because of something that obviously haunts you. Family issues, financial struggle no your to put together for that, medical issues would explain the migraine you have. So what is it?” My eyes widen and my anxiety picks up as my legs shakes more viscously.

“None.” I say as I stand up way too quickly. The world starts to spin and I feel my legs start to give out. I grab onto the table as he reaches for me. I grab my head as he hesitantly places a hand on my shoulder.

“You good?” He stares with scared eyes. I blink a couple of times.

“I’m fine, sorry I stood up too quickly.”

“Maybe you should sit down or drink something other than coffee.”

“I’m fine but thank you.” I walk out of the room quickly and go to the bathroom knowing its the only place he can’t follow me. I quickly lock the door and slide down it covering my face.

[rezhood]

But imagine teenage Jason Todd and Jase (Tim) Fox being friends.

Imagine the degeneracy. Imagine the selflessness. Imagine the coming of age. Imagine the pure unconditional love of two genuine friends who don’t have anyone else. Tim/ Jase the always rich kid that can’t help but feel sympathy to the disenfranchised, to the point he feels drawn to counter culture despite being sheltered from it his whole life. Then Jason who’s just gone from dirt poor to filthy rich over night and he can’t seem to relate to anyone around him anymore. Imagine if they had been friends. Imagine them being absolute menaces at school. They play fight but it just turns into genuine sparing. They race their bikes so fast it gives Lucius an absolute heart attack the first time he sees. Tim is constantly asking to learn fighting moves from Jason, which Bruce isn’t thrilled about but Jason promises not to teach him anything too crazy. They hang out at the library and Jason is the only person who can get Tim to study. Tim is the only person who can get Jason to socialize. They would have joined the recycling club. They would have made police offers cry. They annoy the hell out of their older brothers. Bruce and Lucius make the mistake of leaving them alone at Wayne tower during a board meeting and when they got out the boys had created go carts out of scraps they found in the lab. They’re racing in an empty conference room. They’re in so much trouble. They fight each others dads almost as much as they fight their own. Then when Jason and Bruce start having real issues Tim screams at Bruce and gets banned from the manor. Bruce didn’t actually intend for it to be a permanent thing, but Lucius is so concerned for Tim getting too close to the vigilante stuff he sends him to boarding school. Jason goes to Ethiopia. Tim changes his name to Jase in memorial. They both start down their own warpaths. Years later the two of them meet again only to realize they’ve developed into incompatible people. Childhood friends who can never be close again, not in the way they were.

[writethrough]

Ok, now this!

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WIP (Work In Progress) It Good

Reblog and let your followers ask!

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[fandom-happy]

Sicktember 2023 - Day 26: Alternative prompt 4 - Forehead kisses

Summary: Young Malcolm is suffering, but Jackie’s tender care will help make it better.

[mariclerc]

unexpected role request here! can you do one where the situation is about the Oscar and Ollie adoption joke? where they like invite them over and spend time like a family and another fic where the timeline was when Charles introduced y/n and lily his family :))

Thank you so much for this request!! I love the idea 🥺🥺🥺 and don't worry, I will make your other request very soon!!

An unexpected role (pt.7) | cl16

Summary: you revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well. Warning: none, just fluff as usual featuring Ollie and Oscar!!

Follow the series! Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6 , Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Sunlight streams through the large windows of yours and Charles' apartment. Charles sits at the counter of the kitchen with Lily perched on a high chair wearing a bib. He's cutting up strawberries and feeding them to her, dodging sticky fingers with a smile.

In the living room, you are curled up on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You let out a surprised laugh.

“Charles, you'll never guess what I just saw!” you say walking into the kitchen.

Charles glances up from Lily, a strawberry halfway to her mouth. “What's that, amore?” he says with his mouth full of little raspberries.

Lily happily chomps on the strawberry.

“It seems you've become a social media dad already.” you say giggling.

Charles raises an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “A social media what now?” He says a little confused.

You hold up your phone, showing him a screenshot. It's a tweet with a picture of you, Charles, and Lily photoshopped beside Oscar Piastri and Ollie Bearman, the caption reads: "Charles Leclerc expanding his family with the next generation of talent! #adoptdontshop #F1fam"

Charles bursts out laughing, shaking his head. Lily claps her hands, delighted by the sound. “Oh my god, these fans... they're something else.”

“So, are you thinking of breaking the news to Lily that she has new brothers?” you say teasingly.

Charles picks Lily up from the high chair, placing her on his hip as he walks over to you. “Maybe someday, when she's old enough to understand that Oscar and Ollie are more like... racing cousins, I guess?” He leans and kisses Lily's head. “Though, the idea of them all hanging out here... it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it? I mean, you already know them and, well, they seem to like Lily a lot!”

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile on your lips.

”You mean a whole house full of young, competitive drivers? Sounds like a recipe for chaos, you know?” you asked him.

“Maybe, but think of the stories they'd have for when they're older... "Remember that time Aunt y/n almost lost it when we turned the living room into a go-kart track?" That would be so funny!” he say grinning.

You reach out and softly touch his cheek. “Alright, alright, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. As long as they promise not to give Lily any racing ideas before she's old enough.”

Charles throws his head back and laughs, a genuine sound that fills the room. Lily joins in, giggling at the sound of her parents laughing.

“Don't worry, amour. We'll keep her grounded... For now.”

He leans in and kisses you, the promise of a playful evening with the guys hanging in the air.

***

One week later, the kitchen is a whirlwind of activity. You're juggling chopping vegetables with keeping Lily, who's sporting a bright yellow construction hat, out of the precarious piles of flour on the counter.

Charles bursts in, a wide grin on his face, followed by two young men, Oscar and Ollie, they both have shy smiles on their faces, despite already knowing them in the paddock, they tend to be a little shy.

“Here they are! The prodigal... racing sons, I suppose?” says Charles, making an exaggerated announcement when they enter.

Oscar and Ollie exchange awkward smiles.

“Hey Charles, y/n. Thanks for having us! This place smells amazing, what are we making?” Ollie says, waving friendly.

“It's nothing Ollie, we're making pizza! Lily's been demanding it all week.” You say while cleaning the flour from your hands.

Lily, perched on a stool by the counter, happily bangs a wooden spoon on a metal pot and looks up at Oscar. “Osc! Osc! Osc!” she giggles while looking at the Australian.

Oscar smiles and carefully approaches Lily.

“Hey there you girlyclerc, you want some cuddles?” He says, caressing Lily's cheek gently, she nods and extends her little hands towards him. Oscar chuckles and Ollie bumps him with his shoulder.

“So, uh, is there anything we can do to help with the dinner?” Ollie asks a little shyly as he smiles.

You smile, relieved at the offer.

“Actually, yes! Can you two keep Lily occupied in the living room for a bit, please? We need some grown-up time to get this pizza dough under control.” you smile at the young boys.

Oscar and Ollie look at each other, then back at you, a mixture of amusement on their faces.

Charles notice their hesitation. “Don't worry guys, she's pretty easy to please. Just don't let her near any markers, and maybe hide the remote... Besides, she already adores you two, so... I don't think it's a big problem.”

Oscar and Ollie share a determined look and smile.

“Consider it done. Come on, pipsqueak, let's go build a fort!” Ollie says as Lily jumps into his arms.

Oscar starts singing a children's song, earning a delighted squeal, and they disappear into the living room. You and Charles exchange a look, then you two burst out laughing.

“Maybe they'll make better babysitters than racing drivers, don't you think?” you giggled.

“Maybe... But at least they're good driving too amour.” Charles says, pulling you in for a quick kiss, flour dusting his cheek. “Now, about this reckless dough...”

Meanwhile in the living room, where Ollie and Oscar are sprawled on the floor with Lily, surrounded by pillows and blankets. Lily, wearing a princess crown made of construction paper, is holding a plastic microphone, belting out a made-up song at the top of her lungs. Oscar and Ollie, despite themselves, are smiling so hard at lily's creativity, completely captivated by their pint-sized audience.

***

You and Charles have managed to wrangle the pizza dough into a presentable shape. Flour dusts your aprons and the air smells pleasantly of tomato sauce and oregano.

“Alright, that looks good. Time to get these in the oven!” you say while wiping your hands.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierces the air. You and Charles exchange a panicked look.

“Lily!” Charles says exalted.

You both race towards the living room, bracing yourselves for the worst, the scene that greets you is unexpected.

Oscar and Ollie are sprawled on the floor, their faces painted in bright, uneven stripes. Lily, holding a colourful marker in one hand and a triumphantly mischievous grin on her face, stands over them. Pillows lie scattered on the floor, a half-built fort forgotten.

“Uh, she may have gotten a little carried away with the markers...” Ollie says sheepishly.

Lily lets out a giggle that's both adorable and slightly terrifying. You and Charles can't help but laugh, the tension dissolving.

“Lily, sweetheart, what did we say about markers, huh?” says Charles as he tries to keep a straight face.

Lily sticks her tongue out at him playfully and he does the same, you giggle at the father-daughter interaction.

“Well, this is certainly a first. Looks like we need to add "washing paint out of hair" to the post-pizza agenda, don't you think guys?” you say smiling.

Oscar and Ollie exchange a sheepish glance, but there's a spark of amusement in their eyes.

“Consider it payback for the flour fight Charles had us do at Monaco last year.” Ollie giggled softly.

Charles throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, a little initiation never hurt anyone!”

You shake your head, but a smile tugs at your lips. It's chaotic, messy, and completely unexpected. But as you look around at the scene - the flour-dusted kitchen, the paint-striped drivers, a giggling Lily in the middle of it all - you can't help but feel a warmth spread through you.

The sound of the oven timer cuts through the laughter, Charles pats his stomach with a theatrical sigh.

“Alright, alright, enough shenanigans. Pizza's calling! Who's hungry?” Charles says.

Lily, ever the opportunist, throws her arms up in the air.

“Dada, pizza!” Lily says smiling.

Oscar and Ollie share a look, then grin. “We could definitely use some fuel after all this... creative art expression.” Ollie says smiling.

You herd everyone towards the table, grabbing cleaning wipes on the way. Charles pulls out a high chair for Lily, her paint-streaked face a masterpiece of pure joy.

“Alright, first things first, let's get this paint cleaned up. Then pizza, maybe a movie to wind down before you two head home?” you say while wiping a smudge off Ollie's cheek.

Oscar smiles “Sounds like a plan, y/n. Thanks again for having us today.” says Oscar, wiping his face with a cloth.

Charles ruffles Oscar's hair playfully and smiles. “Anytime, mate! Just don't give Lily any ideas about supergluing my helmet on next time, alright?” he says with a chuckle.

Ollie lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

“No promises, Charles. No promises.”

As everyone settles around the table, the air is filled with a cacophony of chatter, laughter, and Lily's enthusiastic demands for more cheese. The scene fades on a warm, messy tableau of a family, unconventional as it may be, sharing a meal and a stolen moment of joy.

***

After eating the pizza, Lily, now sporting a clean face (and a suspicious orange stain on her shirt), bounces around the living room with a juice box in one hand. Oscar and Ollie are sprawled on the floor, attempting to build a precarious tower out of Legos.

“You think they'll be alright for a movie? Or will they be bouncing off the walls?” you say towards Charles while stacking some dishes in the kitchen.

“They might be a bit wired, but a good movie should tire them out eventually... What did you have in mind?” he says grinning.

You grab a movie from the shelf, a classic Disney animation.

“Something guaranteed to put them into a sugar coma... Besides, Lily's been obsessed with this lately.” you say in a sweet giggle and Charles smiled.

You return to the living room, putting in the movie. The Lego tower teeters precariously before collapsing with a dramatic crash, Lily squeals with laughter, then turns to Oscar and Ollie with wide eyes.

“Movie time! Movie time!” she says giggling. “Ollie?” she says towards Ollie, while making little hands, a sign she makes everytime she wants to be hold up in arms.

Oscar scoops her up, settling her on his lap while Ollie grabs a blanket, draping it over them both. You and Charles settle on the couch, popcorn bowls in hand. As the movie starts, a comfortable silence descends upon the room, Lily snuggles into Ollie's side, her little eyes already drooping.

A small smile plays on Charles' lips as he glances at you. You catch his eye and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. On the screen, a princess embarks on a grand adventure... In the warmth of your apartment, your own unconventional adventure continues, one messy pizza dinner and movie night at a time.

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[kitsune024]

Danny Phantom fics

DP X DC Fic Recs Part 2

lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood by @halfagone I Chapters: 91/150 I Cassandra Cain/Danny Fenton, Lex adopts Danny, Lex Redemption, OP Danny If You Give a Bat a Burger by Cielle_Noire I Chapters: 11/22 I Danny works at batburger, Danny & Jason, Batfamily Dynamics, case fic, tired Danny, canon divergence Ghost in the Morgue by WheatAndWheatBiProduct I Chapters: 4/? I medical examiner Danny Fenton Off With [the Demon's] Head by @halfagone I Chapters 15 / ? I Danny & Danielle, canon divergence, long lost/secret relative, Danny & Ra's al Ghul, protective Danny Wayne’s Haunted Mansion by @tathartiel I Chapters: 23/? I Kid Danny Fenton, Danny gets adopted and it's wholesome, Danny haunts the manor, hurt/comfort Phantom Children: Redux by @avaritia-apotheosis I Chapters 11/? I The Ultimate Enemy, Canon Divergence, Danny Fenton is an al Ghul, Danny is a Wayne, Big Brother Danny The Red Hood's Big Bad Guard Demon by @the-stove-is-on-fire I Chapters 1/? I Danny/Jason, Ice Sculptor Danny, Danny freaks Jason out here lol, High and unhinged Danny, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin bloodlines by @halfagone I Chapters 6/? I Danny is Diana & Bruce's son, Time Travel Shenanigans, Identity Shenanigans, past diana/bruce, past danny/valerie, witch Sam, misunderstandings, batfamily

Completed Fics

Dig Three Graves in Apartment 31c by @faeriekit I Chapter's 6/6 I Danny has the role of Willis Todd, halfa Jason what was lost, found again by @halfagone I Chapter's 5/5 I Danny finds Jason first, Empath Danny, Canon Divergence, Danny is the Wayne's Mary Poppins- but he gets to stay, Creepy Danny How Light Carries On (Endlessly, Even After Death) by BumblingBeesAndWillowTrees I Chapters 3/3 I Eldritch Danny, Danny Adopts Jason Todd, Haunted House

Oneshots

Eldritch Toddler by @halfagone I Chapters 1/1 I Age Regression/De-Aging, Creepy Danny, Eldritch Danny, Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Batfamily Hatred At First Sight by Sagoberattare I Chapters 1/1 I Funny fic, Feral Danny, Danny sees the Joker and his hatred for clowns is cranked to a 100 Two For One Special by @halfagone I Chapters 1/1 I Humor, Kidnapping, Mistaken Identity, Clark & Danny oh lazarus, how did your debts get paid by @hollowmashiro I Chapters 1/1 I Danny/Jason, Pre-Slash, Codependency, Soul Bond, Mind the Tags

Ghost King Danny

Prodigal of Lazarus by @sherashalala I Chapters 9/10 I Danny Fenton is Damian Wayne's older brother, Danny & Damian No Grave can Hold my Body Down by ghostly_frogly I Chapters: 6/? I ghost king Danny but more like prince, Cryptid Danny Vertical Limit by hppjmxrgosg I Chapters: 27/? I Bamf Danny, eldritch Danny, creepy danny- only a bit, POTENTIAL danny/tim. Arkham Phantom: The Cryptic Security Guard by @blobghostdoart I Chapters: 8/? I Security Guard Danny, Adult Danny, Eldritch Danny-only sometimes, crack fic, crack treated seriously, OP Danny Graveyard Shift by Mangopaw I Chapters: 7/? I Creepy Danny, Danny haunts Arkham-kind of, Older Danny Bus to Nowhere by @precarious-hermit I Chapters: 26/? I Homelessness, tired Danny, PTSD, no adoption The Boy King and the Dark Knights by @imjustkindaherelove | Chapters: 29/? | Age Regression/De-Aging, ghost king-more like prince, good parent Jason, Danny & Jason, funny misunderstandings, Identity reveal Lay Low and Graduate by @jaytriesstuff | Chapters: 24/? | Danny x Tim, Danny is so done

Completed Fics

To Let A Man Die by @omnicrafts I Chapter's 2/2 I Joker is Dead, Miscommunication, doesn't say in tags but it hints he's a King Your City Loves You (And Your Home Was Always Here) by bongo_balderdash | Chapters 2/2 | Clark centric, Sentient Metropolis, Clark & Danny

Oneshots

Ghostly Delivery by WeirdNCrazy | Chapters: 1/1 | More like Ghost Prince, Pizza Deliverer Danny, Bamf Danny, Danny likes messing with Superheroes, funny fic There Will Be Peace by @lapetitechatonne I Chapters: 1/1 I Horror, doesn't say in tags but mentions he's a King

[writethrough]

The Prodigal Son Collection

The Collections

I do not permit anyone to copy, repost, and/or share my work anywhere. However, please feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

All rights to the media and characters below belong to the original creators and writers.

Hum Me Something Soothing (Malcolm Bright x GN!Reader) ⊹ When Malcolm's night terrors reveal themselves at the office, you're there to guide them away.

I'll Watch Over You (Malcolm Bright x GN!Caregiver!Reader) ⊹ You're young Malcolm and Ainsley's caregiver when the Whitly's are away. And you can't help feeling protective over the boy who's taken a liking to you.

Little Parts (Malcolm Bright x Fem!Reader) ⊹ With a serial killer on the loose, you join Gil and his team to try and apprehend her, growing closer to a certain consultant in the process. When you're put in harms way, Malcolm does everything he can to save you.

So Be It (Malcolm Bright x GN!Reader) ⊹ Taking care of a sick Malcolm is no simple task, but with everything you've been through together, there's no place you'd rather be. In his moment of vulnerability, he opens up like never before.

Sunny Side (Malcolm Bright x GN!Reader) ⊹ Malcolm tries to surprise you with breakfast, and it may not go so well.

To Make It Through (Malcolm Bright x GN!Reader) ⊹ It's all been hitting you hard. Sometimes it's all just so exhausting. Malcolm sees the signs, and he wants you to know he'll always be there.

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Masterlist

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, enemies to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut, some fluff

Summary: My downfall ended up being a story in three acts. The introduction, the seduction, the damnation.

Or; Young and fresh out of police academy, I set out to take down one of the biggest gangs in Seoul. I didn't expect the whirlwind my life would become after meeting the one and only Min Yoongi. Caught between two worlds, it was hard to say whether I was pulled down or returned where I always belonged.

Current word count: cca 100k

Warnings: dark themes, talks of illegal activities, murder, sexism in the workplace, brief reader x OC, eventual smut, innacurate description of police work, some slight stalking (reader tailing Yoongi), each individual chapter will have its own warnings

A/N: welcome to my new and very first series! I will attempt to update this every month, so it's done quicker. Hope you enjoy your reading, don't be shy and feel free to interact!

Taglist is open! Let me know if you wanna be added ^^

playlist / songs that fit the vibe : daylight by david kuschner, love again by dua lipa, let the world burn by chris grey, nothing matters by the last dinner party, killshot (slowed + reverb) by magdalena bay, a little death by the neighbourhood, adore adore by yoav, little girl gone by chinchilla, play with fire by sam tinnesz, the night by choi baek ho, astonist's lullaby by hozier, take me to church by hozier, smoke sprite by so!yoon!, all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish, my strange addiction by billie eilish, nobody's soldier by hozier, wet nightmare by bibi

Act 1;

Ch. 1 | Interlude I. | Ch. 2.1 | Ch. 2.2 | Ch. 3.1 | Ch. 3.2 | Ch. 3.3 | Interlude II. | Ch. 4.1 | Ch. 4.2 | Ch. 4.3 |Interlude III.

"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

The First Companion | An Old Friend | Boy Warrior |

Act 2;

TBA

"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."

- Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth, Hermann Hesse

The Prodigal Son | Enemy of an Enemy is a Friend | The Golden Maknae |

Act 3;

TBA

"It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day of spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.

It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.

It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness. It is holy begetting. It is love and love’s murder. It is the saint and his betrayer. It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.

To look upon it, is blindness. To know it, is sickness. To worship it, is death. To fear it, is wisdom. To resist it not, is redemption.

It is the delight of the earth and the cruelty of the heavens. Before it there is no question and no reply.

That is the terrible Abraxas."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

Epilogue

Taglist (open):

@wobblewobble822 @viankiss @jjkwifestyle @mortal-body-timelesssoul @fullmetalavatar54

@ot72025 @jalexad @eleni-cherie @m00njinnie @mysteriousgeminizone

@faesageworld

[fansformentalydistroyedmen]

Last Names

A Malcolm Bright x Reader

Beans get spilled, whoops

Chapter 4, Liars

Life sucks, make a new friend and boom you lie to him. Now you are being blackmailed, how great is this. Maybe his mom is right, he doesn't need all my bullshit. I run my hands through my hair frustrated. Should I even try to fix this, he doesn’t want me not if he found out the truth. The truth about my parents, my past, and maybe even these hidden and suppressed feelings I get only around him. I groan and stand up walking to my kitchen. I grab a glass and start to get some water so I can start taking some of my pills. After dowing the glass I lay down trying desperately to fall asleep. After countless hours of tossing and turning I finally fell asleep. 

“Don’t be a wimp just pull the trigger!” 

“I told you she’s too weak to do it.”

“Pull it or I swear I will kill Samuel!” *Gun shot* 

I sit up fast panting, sweat dripping down my face. I rest my head on my wall slowly trying to steady my breath. After a couple minutes I checked my phone, to my sadness no case for right now. That's when I heard my doorbell ring, I groaned but got up to open it. To my shock Malcolm smiles and holds two cups of coffee up, how perfect. I open the door for him and smile.

“Hi, umm what are you doing?” I ask

“Well last night my mom definitely said something to you so I figured I make it up to you.”

“Oh wow that's so sweet.” I rub my face.

“Please come in.” I smile as he hands me the coffee, I 

might need something stronger if I am going to tell him. We walk over to my kitchen island and he sits down. 

“So what did my mom say, I’m really sorry by the way.” He says sympathetically.

“Umm I- Malcolm I need to tell you something.” I bite my lip.

“Are you ok?” He asked, concerned. I stand up and run my hands through my hair and he follows me as I start to pace.

“I am but you're gonna be really mad and you have every right to be and I am really sorry.” I take a deep breath and see him staring at me trying very hard to profile me. 

“Malcom my parents aren't dead, I lied. My parents are actually in jail, I am a Scott, as in Maggie and Lenoard Scott. The serial killers and experimental child abusers. I am so sorry for lying.” He just stares at me, gears turning.

“Please say something.” I plead. 

“ Why would you lie if you just found out I'm a Whitly?” He questions.

“ I was scared but then your mom told me that she would tell you if I didn’t stay away from you.” Tears now streaming heavy and hot down my face

“Did you lie about your brother as well?” He asks

“No not at all, he drowned, they killed him. “Are you mad?” he bites his lip like he’s thinking then he starts choking? Laughing? He's laughing! My eyes widened in horror and my mouth opened as I taste the salty tears. 

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” He says while laughing.

“What the actual hell is happening?” I yell as he continues to laugh.

“Did you really think I didn’t know you were lying?” He laughs

“I- yeah.” I say exasperated.

“Please you are a terrible liar and this is literally my job. I knew as soon as you told me they died.” He smirked.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” I yelled, still having tears running down my face.

“Well you did lie to me also I am genuinely sorry about my prying mother.”

“You jackass!” I smack him and walk off. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. My eyes widen as they meet his bright blue eyes. I swallow hard and wait for anything to happen, it would be so easy to just. No! 

“Y/N I’m sorry I didn’t think it through. I didn't think it would upset you.” He said sincerely.

“I thought I ruined the only relationship with someone who gets me I have ever had, so sorry I got emotional.” I said roughly.

“Y/N I’m sorry I shouldn't have.” I was having a hard time focusing since we were so close to each other I could hear his heart beats. 

“I mean… you forgave me, I think I can forgive you.” I continue to stare at his eyes, he slowly lifts his free hand and wipes the tears that were resting on my cheeks. This is wrong. I work with him, emotions are messy, he’ll leave me. I cough and pull away quickly and start walking away. 

“Breakfast?” I ask, walking over towards my stove.

“Uh sure.” He says following 

“What do you want?” I ask

“Umm, I mean I’m not sure I don’t eat breakfast a lot.” He laughs 

“Makes two of us.” I laugh while grabbing some eggs.

[yuna542]

[1.]

~About Kooks and Pogues~

Pairing: JJ Maybank × Reader/Oc

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Drama, Action

Warnings: Alcohol, Mentions of Drugs, That’s it!

Taglist: Open

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: The Kook princess is back after a year after a family tragedy and reignites the war between Pogues and Kooks on Kildare. But she quickly realizes that after this year, nothing is the same as before. Lies, dark secrets from the past, and dangerous conspiracies sweep across Kildare, leaving her no choice but to work with the Pogues and her personal nemesis to find the truth and maybe even $8 million. A dangerous treasure hunt begins that turns her world upside down.

Notes: That’s a series I’m working on and off for like three years now. I hope you’ll enjoy it

……………………………………………………………

Ain't shady baby, I'm hot

Like the prodigal son

Pick a petal, eenie meenie minie mo, and flower

You're the chosen one

The music was loud, the sound of the sea was pleasant and the sun warmed the faces of the young people who were on the large beach of the Outer Banks. One of the typical beach parties was held there this Wednesday. The vacations had begun and so the beach was full of Teenagers, tired of sitting still all day in a grey classroom, eager to have fun and forget about homework, exams and pressure on choosing the right College.

You didn't understand the Outer Banks if you didn't know the structure, as there were distinct differences not only among the Outer Banks youth. While some needed three jobs to survive, others owned three houses.

The Pogues, as a group of young people called themselves, had organized the ongoing party and quickly the beach had been filled by young people of all background’s. With the warm weather, most of the Teen’s were magically drawn to the sea and on the small island there were not that much other options to party and spend the night.

"Stop it!" exclaimed Pope, as a cloud of herbal smoke was blown in his face by his buddy. Pope was the most intelligent of the group and sometimes really strange. But that didn't bother his friends. Quite the opposite.

The blond who was now laughing and taking another drag on the joint was JJ. He was an excellent surfer and the troublemaker in the group. In fact he got very often into trouble and loved to provoke. But his friends always helped him out of it. Literally out of anything.

John B toasted the girl sitting next to him in the sand. He was the free spirit and adventurer of the group. He always came up with new ideas on how they could pass the time, even if they were not always so legal.

The girl with the dark curls and sun-kissed skin was Kiara. She was the only one who did not come from a poor background, and even belonged to the richer families. Still, she much preferred hanging out with the Pogues and didn't care much about possessions and wealth. Instead, she was a do-gooder who preferred saving turtles over going shopping. She loved to smoke a joint on the large glazed patio of the Chateau, that has a view of the backyard and the marsh with the guys, instead of talking about the newest season of the new reality show with her girlfriends.

The four of them laughed and teased each other as they drank beer and gradually more and more people came to the beach to party.

"Guys, I swear it will be incredible! We should really go out and surf on the other side“, JJ started the same topic as the day before all over again. His eyes were filled with energy and he couldn’t sit still.

"No, that's way too dangerous. The storms there are unpredictable and in the end no one will find us if we get in trouble," Kiara fended off and Pope immediately agreed with her.

"That's the thrill of it, isn't it? Dude the waves are going to be huge for sure! John B, you're up for it, aren't you? Don’t let me down, Bro!“

It sounded more like a statement than a question. Waiting, he looked at his best friend, who took off his cap, then put it back on, a gentle smile on his lips. The freckles on his cheeks glowing.

"Well, I’m in. Sounds like fun."

"Nice!" escaped JJ, while Kiara just shook her head in annoyance. Then Pope suddenly raised his eyes and seemed to spot something at the edge of the dune. As JJ and Kiara continued to argue, John B also noticed what he was looking at.

"Guys, the Kooks!" he muttered, clearly annoyed.

"That's exactly what we needed..." sighed Kiara sarcastically, and JJ stood up, beer in hand, to get a better look. Already tense and ready to throw himself in a fight. John stood next to him while Pope and Kiara remained seated. Both were already dreading another confrontation between JJ and the hated rich Kooks.

"That's Topper and Sarah," John B stated, to which Kiara just raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

"Someone else is coming," Pope remarked, and sure enough:

Behind Sarah Cameron, the current Kook princess and her boyfriend, two more people appeared.

"That's Rafe, but who the hell is that girl?" now asked Kiara, stretching her neck curiously.

"I don't know, but she's hot," JJ muttered, staring with John B in the direction where the Kooks were now walking across the beach.

"Hot as hell," John B added overwhelmed, continuing to watch the girl.

She had raven black hair that fell in many small curls over her shoulders, shimmering like wet ink in the sun. Her skin was tanned and possessed a bronze glow. She was not particularly tall, but slender and of athletic build, so even Pope looked curiously in her direction.

JJ's gaze was still wandering over her body when she had already turned to face them.

"Isn't that Skylar?" gasped Kiara, who was now staring in disbelief.

"Sky Diaz?" asked John B, elbowing JJ in the side as the Kooks moved closer to get him to stop staring. Topper had an arm around Sarah while the new girl chatted boisterously with Rafe. Her unusual appearance made her stand out from the blonde Kooks, and her style of dress was also quite different.

She wore a plaid pleated skirt that reached halfway down her thighs and loose white top, barely covering her belly and slim waist, with her black bikini top peeking through. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of an 80's rock and roll movie. JJ instantly was reminded of those musical-films Kiara forced them to watch, in which all of the guys had ridiculous hairstyles but the women always looked mysteriously beautiful.

"Is that really her? Diaz moved to Nassau over one year ago, didn't she?" pondered Pope aloud.

"Maybe she's vacationing here?" speculated John B.

Kiara shook her head.

"No, not after everything that happened. You don't take a vacation on Kildare after an incident like that. She must be living here again."

Now the Kooks were within range and looking around. Rafe gave the Pogues a disparaging look and Topper also stared warningly at JJ. Up close, it was now clear that Skylar Diaz was indeed standing in front of them. The amber eyes and full red lips were unmistakable. Even though she had changed considerably and her figure had become more feminine.

Even back then Sky had been pretty, but now they could see she had grown into a unbelievable beautiful young woman. JJ always hated the fact that she had everything. She was rich, adored and freaking beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

"Looks like you're going to have to give up your throne again, Cameron!" now JJ called out to Sarah, who just rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"The same rats as before," Rafe remarked, pointing at the Pogues as if they were animals behind a glass in the zoo.

Sky smirked mildly and regarded the Pogues briefly. Her gaze lingered a second longer on the cheeky blond, and it was then that she recognized him.

"What are you doing back here?" now asked Kie coolly, who had now also stood up. Back then Sarah, Sky and she had been best friends. But then she had moved away after the incident and the friendship between Sarah and Kie broke like thin glass.

"I'm living here again. My stepfather found new work on Kildare," she explained tersely, trying to ignore JJ's piercing gaze.

However, he put on an uninterested expression. Yea she was fuming hot and seemed to be even more confident and charming, but after all, she was still a stupid Kook. Her family was even richer than the Camerons and she was even more arrogant than all the rest thrown together, so she had been the leader of the Kooks back then and JJ's personal nemesis. The hatred between the Pogues and the Kooks had been current before, too. All Kooks thought the Pogues were filthy scum and the Pogues had the same opinion of the rich Kooks.

She tossed her hair back and turned around without saying another word to them. As if they weren't worthy of her attention. Then she walked over to the rest of the Kooks and was greeted with delight.

The evening took its course and there was drinking, laughing and dancing. Music blared from several speakers brought in by a couple of Kooks.

The sun beat down mercilessly on the sand, so that it was still warm even when it had long since sunk into the sea like a long lost wreck.

The Pogues were chatting animatedly with others from the Cut and JJ was drinking with a couple of tourists. A typical evening, as it had been so many times before, but the arrival of the Kook Princess, the royalty of Kildare, soon stirred up more than just a lot of sand, and JJ had a feeling that this summer was not going to be as ordinary as they had originally thought.

⬇️

© Yuna542 - all rights reserved.

[fandom-happy]

Sicktember 2023 - Day 16: Alt prompt 2 - Fuzzy socks

Summary: Out of the team’s care package, fuzzy socks are a winner.

[liora-vespera]

In Love's Contract - Jungkook Oneshot

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: non

-------------------------------------------------------

Y/N wiped her damp hands on her skirt, nerves rolling through her as she stood outside the grand Jeon mansion. This wasn’t the life she had envisioned, but life rarely turned out as planned. Her mother’s weak smile and trembling hands were her only motivation to move forward. Her mother needed treatment, and this marriage was the price.

She had been Mr. Jeon’s secretary for over two years, and in that time, she had come to admire him for his professionalism and sharp intellect. When he suggested the marriage, promising to cover all medical expenses and ensure the best care for her mother, she hesitated for days. But with no one else to rely on and mounting hospital bills, she had agreed.

The door to the mansion opened, and the butler greeted her warmly. “This way, Miss Y/N. Mr. Jeon and Jungkook are waiting for you in the study.”

Her heart thudded. Jungkook. She’d heard whispers of him around the office. The prodigal son of Jeon Industries, he had spent years building a name for himself in the US. But his reputation in Korea was far from pristine. Stories of his wild parties, indulgences, and lack of interest in responsibility painted a stark contrast to his father.

Y/N entered the study, a spacious room lined with dark oak shelves and the faint scent of leather. Mr. Jeon smiled at her, his eyes kind. Next to him stood Jungkook, his expression unreadable. He was striking—broad shoulders clad in a crisp black shirt, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes that seemed to see through her. Yet, there was a coldness to him, an air of detachment that made her feel insignificant.

“Y/N,” Mr. Jeon began, “this is my son, Jungkook. I believe you two should get to know each other before the wedding.”

The word “wedding” hit her like a brick, and she forced a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

His gaze swept over her briefly before he nodded curtly. “Likewise.”

Mr. Jeon excused himself, leaving them alone in the room. The silence was heavy, and Y/N fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. She decided to break it. “I heard you just returned from the US. How was it there?”

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his demeanor nonchalant. “It was fine. I didn’t expect to come back to... this.”

The dismissal in his tone stung, but she pressed on. “I understand this arrangement isn’t ideal for either of us, but—”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “I’m not interested in this marriage. My father thinks tying me down will change me, but I have no intention of becoming the perfect son he wants. This is just a game to him.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I’ll go through with this for a year,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “One year to see what it’s like. If I hate it, we’ll part ways. If it’s tolerable... well, we’ll see. But don’t expect anything from me.”

Y/N stared at him, her world spinning. “A year? That’s all this is to you?”

He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back. She wanted to storm out, to scream that she wouldn’t be a pawn in his twisted game. But then her mother’s frail face flashed in her mind.

“For my mom,” she whispered to herself. She looked up at him, determination hardening her features. “Fine. One year. But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

He smirked, as if amused by her defiance. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

The wedding came faster than she anticipated. It was grand, as expected of the Jeon family, but Y/N felt like a spectator in her own life. Jungkook played his part perfectly—smiling for the cameras, holding her hand, and even whispering sweet nothings during the vows. But when they were alone, the mask fell.

The first night in their shared home, he laid down the rules. “Don’t expect me to change. I’ll come and go as I please, and I don’t need you meddling in my life.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “And what about me? Do I get to have rules?”

“Do whatever you want,” he said with a shrug. “Just don’t embarrass me.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N settled into a routine. Jungkook was true to his word—he came home late, often smelling of alcohol, and left early without a word. She buried herself in work and focused on her mother’s treatment, visiting her every chance she got.

But it wasn’t easy. The loneliness of the mansion, the whispers of his escapades in tabloids, and the coldness in his eyes chipped away at her resolve. She tried to keep up appearances, attending events with him and smiling for the cameras, but behind closed doors, they were strangers.

One night, as she sat alone in the living room, the door slammed open. Jungkook stumbled in, clearly drunk. He looked at her, his gaze hazy but filled with something she couldn’t decipher.

“Why do you even bother?” he slurred. “Pretending like this matters?”

She stood, anger bubbling up. “Because it does matter—to me, at least. I didn’t ask for this, Jungkook, but I’m trying.”

“Trying?” he laughed bitterly. “Trying to play house with someone like me? Don’t waste your time, Y/N.”

Her fists clenched. “You’re right. This is a waste of time. But you know what? I made a promise, and I’m not breaking it. So, if you want to keep acting like a spoiled child, go ahead. But don’t drag me down with you.”

For a moment, he looked taken aback, as if no one had ever dared speak to him like that. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into his room.

---

Y/N lay awake that night, wondering how long she could endure this. One year felt like a lifetime, and yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to Jungkook than the cold, detached man he showed her.

She had no choice but to find out.

Six months had passed since Y/N and Jungkook’s wedding, and life in the Jeon household had settled into a rhythm. While their relationship was far from romantic, the hostility that once lingered between them had softened into something resembling companionship. Y/N continued to fulfill her duties diligently—making his breakfast, ironing his clothes, and keeping the house in order. Jungkook, though still distant, seemed to appreciate her efforts in his own quiet way.

But despite the small progress, Jungkook hadn’t changed much. His nights were often spent outside, indulging in the lifestyle his father disapproved of, and his mornings were hurried, a mere nod to Y/N as he grabbed his coffee and left. For Y/N, it was lonely, but she persevered, keeping herself busy with work and caring for her mother.

Then came the accident.

It happened on a rainy evening when Jungkook was driving back from a business dinner. The brakes had failed on a slick road, and his car collided with a divider. Y/N was in the middle of organizing papers in the study when Mr. Jeon called her. His voice trembled as he explained what had happened, and she rushed to the hospital, her heart pounding.

When she saw Jungkook, lying unconscious with cuts and bruises on his face, a lump formed in her throat. Despite his flaws and the emotional distance between them, the sight of him so vulnerable made her chest ache.

The doctors explained that while his injuries weren’t life-threatening, the impact had severely damaged his knee and hip, making it impossible for him to walk for the time being. “It will take about three months of rehabilitation for him to get back on his feet,” the doctor said.

Y/N nodded, her resolve hardening. “I’ll take care of him.”

---

The first few weeks after the accident were the hardest. Jungkook was bedridden, unable to move without assistance. Y/N stayed by his side, ensuring he was comfortable, feeding him, and even helping him with tasks that made her cheeks burn—like using the toilet and taking showers. At first, Jungkook resisted her help, his pride taking a hit every time she had to lift or support him.

“I can do it myself,” he muttered one day, attempting to sit up on his own but wincing in pain.

“Stop being stubborn,” Y/N said, her tone firm as she helped him adjust. “You’re not Superman, Jungkook. Let me help you.”

He sighed, frustration evident in his eyes, but he didn’t argue further.

As the days turned into weeks, a quiet routine emerged. Y/N spent her mornings helping Jungkook with his basic needs and feeding him breakfast. She guided him through his physical therapy exercises, encouraging him when he wanted to give up. In the evenings, they sat together in the living room, sometimes watching TV in comfortable silence, other times talking about trivial things.

For the first time, Jungkook began to see a side of Y/N he had ignored before. She was patient, strong, and compassionate, qualities that reminded him of his late mother. He hadn’t spoken about her to anyone in years, the pain of losing her still raw, but he found himself thinking of her whenever Y/N was around.

---

One particularly challenging day, Jungkook had struggled with his walking exercises, nearly collapsing from the effort. Frustrated and angry, he lashed out at Y/N.

“Why are you even doing this?” he snapped. “You don’t have to pretend to care.”

Y/N stared at him, her own exhaustion visible in her eyes. “I’m not pretending, Jungkook. I care because someone has to. And whether you like it or not, I’m your wife.”

Her words hung in the air, and for the first time, Jungkook couldn’t come up with a sarcastic retort. He simply looked away, guilt gnawing at him.

---

By the third month, Jungkook’s progress was remarkable. With Y/N’s constant support, he could walk short distances without crutches, and his confidence grew. Mr. Jeon often visited, expressing his gratitude to Y/N.

“You’ve done more for him than I ever could,” Mr. Jeon said one day, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’m thankful you’re here, Y/N.”

She smiled softly. “He’s stronger than he thinks, Mr. Jeon. He just needs someone to remind him.”

---

One chilly night, the first snow of the season began to fall. Y/N was curled up on the couch with a blanket, sipping tea, when Jungkook joined her. He had been walking more confidently lately, though he still favored his right leg.

“It’s cold,” he remarked, sitting down beside her.

She glanced at him, surprised he was choosing to sit with her instead of retreating to his room. “Do you want some tea?”

He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the snow outside. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “You’ve done a lot for me these past few months.”

“It’s my duty,” she replied, though her tone lacked the usual detachment.

“No, it’s more than that,” he said, turning to look at her. His eyes softened, and for the first time, Y/N thought she saw a glimpse of the man behind the cold façade. “Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked away, unsure how to respond.

As the night wore on, the cold crept into the room despite the heater. Jungkook, noticing Y/N shivering, grabbed the blanket and draped it over both of them. Their shoulders brushed, and the proximity made her cheeks warm.

“Are you always this warm?” he teased, his voice lighter than she’d ever heard it.

She laughed softly, a sound that surprised even herself. “Maybe you’re just cold.”

They sat like that for a while, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. The physical closeness felt natural, but the emotional distance still loomed. Y/N wondered if this newfound warmth between them was a sign of something deeper or just a fleeting moment of comfort.

---

As the night deepened, the room grew quieter, with only the soft sound of snow tapping against the window. Jungkook turned to Y/N, his gaze lingering on her face longer than usual. There was something different in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite decipher but felt drawn to.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

She looked at him, her breath hitching under the intensity of his stare. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and the simple touch sent a shiver down her spine.

The cold outside seemed to disappear as the warmth between them grew, a silent understanding passing between them. He leaned closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t.

In that quiet, snow-filled night, the walls that had kept them apart for so long began to crumble. The distance between them faded, replaced by an unspoken connection. As the blanket fell to the floor and the fire in the hearth crackled softly, they found solace in each other, crossing the fragile boundary that had kept their hearts guarded.

It was a moment of vulnerability, a step into the unknown, and while it wasn’t clear where their hearts truly stood, for that night, they chose to let go of the doubts and simply be together.

—

The year had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Slowly but surely, Y/N and Jungkook had slipped into the rhythm of married life, their relationship evolving from cold strangers to something much warmer. They shared moments—cooking meals together, late-night conversations about everything and nothing, and even affectionate gestures that had once seemed impossible.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. For Y/N, it had begun to feel like a true marriage. She thought, maybe, just maybe, this was the life they would continue building together.

But on the morning of their first anniversary, everything fell apart.

---

The Jeon household was lively that day, with Mr. Jeon joining them for breakfast. Y/N had dressed up in a simple yet elegant outfit, planning to visit the church afterward. Jungkook, seated at the head of the table, seemed unusually casual, chatting with his father and even cracking a few jokes. Y/N smiled, thinking that this was how family life should feel.

As they finished their meal, Jungkook leaned back in his chair and glanced at Y/N. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked casually, as though discussing the weather.

The room fell silent. The house chef froze mid-step, and the maid looked on in disbelief. Y/N’s heart plummeted, the meaning of his words striking her like a blow.

“Home?” she repeated, her voice barely audible.

Jungkook, oblivious to the shift in the room’s atmosphere, nodded with a faint smile. “Yeah. You’re dressed up already, so I thought it’d be a good time. I’ll drop you off.”

Her gaze darted to Mr. Jeon, whose face had darkened with disapproval. “Jungkook,” his father began, his tone firm, “what are you talking about? You can’t seriously mean this.”

But Jungkook didn’t seem fazed. “We had a deal, didn’t we, Father? One year. It’s been a year. I think we’ve both fulfilled our ends of the bargain.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten as tears welled in her eyes. She had thought—hoped—that their time together had meant something more to him. That their shared moments, their growing bond, had softened his resolve. But now, it was clear he hadn’t changed his mind at all.

“I’ll... pack my things,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Y/N,” Mr. Jeon called, his voice laced with guilt and sorrow.

She shook her head, blinking back tears. “It’s fine, Mr. Jeon.” She stood and walked upstairs, her steps unsteady as her world crumbled around her.

---

Jungkook drove her to her apartment in silence, the air between them heavy. Y/N sat with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her wedding ring digging into her palm. Jungkook, however, seemed completely at ease, even cheerful.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “you won’t have to wait up for me anymore. You can finally sleep without worrying when I’ll come home.”

Y/N said nothing, her gaze fixed out the window.

“And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” he added. “Seriously, Y/N, you’ve been great this past year. I mean it. You deserve someone who can give you more than this arrangement.”

When they reached her apartment, Jungkook parked the car and turned to her. “Do you want to take anything from the house? It’s yours too, after all.”

Y/N finally looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She slipped off her wedding ring, holding it in her palm. “This is all I want,” she said quietly.

For the first time that day, Jungkook faltered. His casual demeanor cracked as he stared at the ring in her hand. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

Y/N stepped out of the car, clutching the ring tightly. She didn’t look back as she walked into her apartment building, her vision blurred by tears.

---

Back in the car, Jungkook sat motionless, staring at the empty passenger seat. For a moment, the weight of his decision pressed down on him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He had thought she would be relieved, maybe even happy to leave behind the marriage that had started as nothing more than a contract. But the look in her eyes, the quiet heartbreak she carried as she walked away, lingered in his mind.

For the first time in his life, Jungkook felt something unfamiliar—regret. But by then, Y/N was already gone.

—

The morning after Y/N left, Jungkook woke up to the eerie silence of his home. The usual warmth of the kitchen, where Y/N would hum softly while preparing breakfast, was gone. Instead, the quietness wrapped around him, unsettling and cold.

He walked into the kitchen, and the chef handed him a cup of coffee, the same way he had for years before Y/N entered his life. Jungkook took a sip but immediately frowned. It was bitter, not the comforting blend Y/N had made just right every morning.

“Is something wrong, sir?” the chef asked, noticing his reaction.

Jungkook shook his head, setting the cup down. “No, it’s fine,” he muttered, but the emptiness in his tone betrayed him.

As the day unfolded, Jungkook found himself distracted at work. Memories of Y/N lingered in his mind—the way she smiled softly when she handed him his tie in the mornings, her shy blush whenever he teased her with a kiss, the way she’d wave goodbye from the doorway, her eyes full of quiet hope.

He had once found these gestures unnecessary, even annoying. Now, he realized how much they had become a part of his life, grounding him in ways he hadn’t understood until they were gone.

---

Meanwhile, Y/N was determined to rebuild her life. Her mother, fully recovered now, supported her decision to move forward. “You don’t have to stay in a situation where you’re not valued,” her mother had told her when Y/N returned home. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve firm. She reached out to an old friend who owned a small company and secured a job there. It wasn’t as prestigious as working for the Jeon family business, but it was honest work, and that was all she needed.

When Y/N had first told her mother about the marriage, her mother had been hesitant. “Are you sure about this?” she had asked, worried for her daughter’s future. But Y/N had reassured her, explaining the deal she had made with Mr. Jeon for her mother’s treatment.

Now, seeing the pain in Y/N’s eyes, her mother regretted supporting the decision. “You deserved better than this, Y/N,” she said one evening as they sat together.

“I know,” Y/N replied softly. “But I’m going to be okay now. I just need to move on.”

Her mother nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing that Y/N had sacrificed so much for her.

---

Jungkook’s life, on the other hand, began to feel increasingly empty. Even the things that once brought him comfort—his nights out with friends, the fleeting company of women—now felt hollow. The house that Y/N had filled with warmth and life seemed unbearably cold without her.

He caught himself lingering in the spaces she had once occupied. The kitchen counter where she brewed his coffee, the hallway mirror where she’d check her reflection before heading out, the bedroom closet now half-empty without her clothes.

One morning, as he stood in front of the mirror adjusting his tie, his hands faltered. He realized he missed her small hands fixing it for him, her gentle smile as she whispered, “There, perfect.”

It was in these moments that Jungkook began to acknowledge the truth he had been avoiding: he missed Y/N. More than that, he regretted letting her go.

---

For Y/N, the process of moving on was slow but steady. She threw herself into her new job, making friends among her colleagues and even attending social events to regain a sense of normalcy.

She refused to let herself dwell on the past, though memories of Jungkook occasionally surfaced. She thought of his rare, genuine smiles, the quiet moments they had shared, and the fleeting hope she had once felt for their relationship. But those memories only fueled her determination to leave him behind.

She had given her all to their marriage, and he had discarded her without a second thought. Now, she was determined to live for herself.

---

Back at the Jeon estate, Mr. Jeon couldn’t ignore the change in his son. Jungkook was quieter, more irritable, and noticeably restless.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Mr. Jeon asked one evening over dinner.

Jungkook looked up sharply, startled by the question. “What are you talking about?”

His father sighed, setting his fork down. “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been lost ever since she left. Y/N was good for you, Jungkook, but you were too blind to see it.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to retort but found himself unable to deny the truth. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of his father’s words sank in.

He had thought Y/N’s departure would be a relief, that he could return to his old life without complication. Instead, her absence had created a void he couldn’t ignore.

For the first time in his life, Jungkook felt truly alone. And for the first time, he wondered if it was too late to make things right.

—

Jungkook could no longer endure the void Y/N's absence had left in his life. He had spent days questioning his decisions, replaying every moment they had shared, and realizing how deeply he had wronged her. With a renewed determination, he decided to win her back.

The next morning, he drove to Y/N’s apartment. When her mother answered the door, her expression instantly turned cold.

“Why are you here?” she asked sharply, blocking the doorway.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” Jungkook said, his voice steady but laced with guilt.

“You’ve done enough already,” her mother snapped. “You think you can just walk back into her life after breaking her heart?”

“I know I made a mistake,” Jungkook admitted, lowering his gaze. “But I love her. I didn’t realize it until she was gone, and now I’m here to make things right. Please, I just want a chance to talk to her.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Do you even know what she’s been through? She gave up so much for you, for that ridiculous contract. And you threw her away like she meant nothing!”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “I know I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but I want to try. Please, Mrs. Y/L/N. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Her mother studied him for a long moment, her anger softening as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. She sighed heavily, stepping aside. “Fine. But if you hurt her again, Jungkook, I won’t forgive you.”

---

Y/N returned home a little while later, carrying groceries and humming softly to herself. Her smile vanished the moment she saw Jungkook sitting in the living room with her mother.

Her expression turned cold. “What are you doing here, Mr. Jeon?” she asked, her tone sharp and mocking.

Jungkook winced at the formality but stood up. “Y/N, I came to—”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “If you’re here to say something about the contract, save it. It’s over. I’m not part of your life anymore.”

He stepped closer, desperation flashing in his eyes. “Y/N, please, just listen to me. I don’t want the contract anymore. I don’t want a year, or two years, or any kind of arrangement. I want you. I want us.”

She scoffed, dropping her groceries on the counter. “Us? There was never an us, Jungkook. I was just a convenience for you, a way to get your father off your back. I won’t go back to being something you can pick up and discard whenever you feel like it.”

“That’s not true!” he protested. “I didn’t realize it back then, but I—”

“Enough!” she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and pain. “You don’t get to come here and act like you care now. You didn’t care when I was there, trying to make it work, trying to love you.”

The room fell silent except for her labored breaths. She turned away, walking toward her room.

But before she could get far, Jungkook grabbed her wrist gently, his eyes pleading. “Y/N, don’t do this. I love you. I know I don’t deserve you, but please... come back.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she yanked her hand away. “I’m not something that can be bought in a store, Jungkook,” she said coldly. “I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”

The argument grew more heated, their voices rising as they hurled their frustrations at each other. Suddenly, Y/N’s face went pale, and her knees buckled.

“Y/N!” Jungkook shouted, catching her before she hit the floor. Her mother screamed, rushing to her side as Jungkook carried her to the car and sped to the hospital.

---

Hours later, the doctor emerged with a smile. “She’s fine. Just some stress and exhaustion. But there’s something else.”

Jungkook and her mother exchanged worried glances. “What is it?” he asked anxiously.

“She’s pregnant,” the doctor announced. “About two months along.”

The words hit Jungkook like a tidal wave. His mind raced back to the moments they had shared—moments of intimacy that now seemed all the more significant. A surge of joy and relief coursed through him.

“It’s my child,” he whispered, his lips curving into a smile.

Inside the room, Y/N sat on the hospital bed, her expression blank as the doctor explained her condition. When Jungkook walked in, his face lit up with a mixture of guilt and joy.

“Y/N,” he began softly, sitting beside her. “We’re going to have a baby.”

She turned to him, her eyes cold. “I’m going to have a baby. You don’t have to worry, Jungkook. I can take care of my child on my own. I don’t need you.”

His smile faltered. “But I want to be there. For you. For our baby.”

“You’re not even my husband anymore,” she said sharply, her words cutting like a knife.

Jungkook reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Y/N, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, let me be part of this. I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

Her eyes softened momentarily, but she quickly steeled herself. “You had your chance, Jungkook. I gave you everything, and you threw it away. This baby is the only thing that matters now.”

As she turned away, Jungkook felt a pang of heartbreak but refused to give up. For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to fight for someone—and he wasn’t going to stop until he earned Y/N’s trust and love again.

—

It had been seven months since Y/N had walked away from Jungkook, choosing to focus on her pregnancy and her independence. Despite the challenges, she had built a new life for herself, working hard and preparing for her baby’s arrival. Jungkook, however, had not given up.

He had spent months strategizing, determined to win her back. He knew Y/N’s pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let her forgive him easily, but he was willing to do whatever it took.

---

One morning, Y/N arrived at her office, ready to tackle another busy day. As she entered the building, she noticed an unusual buzz of excitement among her colleagues.

“What’s going on?” she asked a coworker.

“The company has been sold!” they replied eagerly. “We’re meeting the new CEO today!”

Y/N’s heart sank, unsure of how this change would affect her position. She made her way to the lobby, where the entire staff had gathered with bouquets to welcome their new leader.

As she stood among the crowd, her friend—the former owner of the company—stepped forward with a broad smile. “Everyone, please welcome the new CEO, Mr. Jeon Jungkook!”

Time seemed to freeze for Y/N. She stood rooted to the spot as Jungkook entered the room, exuding the same confidence and charisma that had once drawn her to him. He was dressed in a sharp suit, his expression calm and composed as he accepted handshakes and bouquets from the staff.

Her heart pounded in her chest as he approached her. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” someone whispered behind her, nudging her forward.

Swallowing hard, she stepped up, holding out the bouquet reluctantly. Her hands trembled slightly as he took it, their fingers brushing. Jungkook reached out for a handshake, and she hesitated, her mind screaming at her to turn away.

“Shake his hand, Y/N,” his assistant said gently, sensing the tension but remaining professional.

Y/N had no choice. She extended her hand, and as soon as their palms touched, Jungkook’s fingers curled around hers in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just a handshake—it was deliberate, intimate, and far too familiar.

Her eyes widened, but she quickly masked her reaction, pulling her hand away as soon as was polite. Around them, no one seemed to notice the subtle exchange, distracted by the introduction of their new CEO.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on her, his lips curving into a subtle smirk that only she could decipher. It was the same look he had given her in the past, the one that always preceded moments of closeness.

Y/N’s chest tightened with a mix of anger and unease. She turned and walked back to her desk, her mind racing.

---

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to avoid Jungkook, keeping her head down and focusing on her work. But his presence was impossible to ignore. His voice carried through the office as he spoke with authority, and she couldn’t help but feel his eyes on her whenever he passed by.

When she finally managed to sneak away for lunch, she found herself face-to-face with him in the breakroom.

“Y/N,” he greeted smoothly, leaning casually against the counter.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” she asked, her voice cold.

“I’m your boss now,” he said, his tone teasing but firm. “Shouldn’t you address me as ‘Mr. Jeon’?”

Her jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “I’m here for you.”

She scoffed, turning away. “You can’t just buy a company to get close to me.”

“Why not?” he replied, unbothered. “I’ve already made it clear—I want you back, Y/N. And I’m not giving up.”

She spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened. I don’t need you, Jungkook. I’ve been fine on my own.”

His gaze softened, but there was determination in his eyes. “I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it if I have to. But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Y/N shook her head, her emotions swirling. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not the same person I was before. I’m stronger now. And I don’t need you to take care of me or my baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected gently, his voice firm. “And I know you don’t need me. But I want to be there—for both of you. Please, Y/N. Let me prove that I’ve changed.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “It’s too late, Jungkook.”

As she walked away, Jungkook watched her go, his heart aching but his resolve unwavering. He had a long road ahead, but he was willing to fight for Y/N—for their family. And he wasn’t about to give up now.

—

The office was unusually lively that morning. Employees bustled around, laughing and chatting as they shared chocolates and opened their unexpected bonuses. The source of the excitement? Jungkook, who had personally ensured that everyone in the company celebrated his wife's birthday—a wife none of them had met, or so they thought.

Y/N, sitting at her desk, overheard the chatter and felt her blood boil. She had explicitly told Jungkook to keep his distance, but this was a blatant attempt to undermine her wishes. When she saw Jungkook’s assistant and some familiar faces from his old company personally distributing the gifts, she had enough.

Stomping into his office, she pushed the door open without knocking, startling Jungkook, who was lounging on the couch with his legs crossed. He looked up with a lazy smirk as she marched in, fire in her eyes.

“Jungkook!” she snapped, slamming the door shut behind her.

He leaned back, arms crossed casually, and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, my wild cat has arrived. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Stop calling me that!” she hissed, ignoring the heat that rose to her cheeks. “What are you doing? Bonuses, chocolates, announcing my birthday to the entire office? You promised to stay professional!”

Jungkook shrugged, unbothered. “It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t the world celebrate the woman who makes my life better?”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m not—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “I want to resign. Effective immediately.”

Jungkook’s smirk faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. “You’re not resigning, Y/N.”

“Oh, yes, I am!” she retorted, stepping closer. “You can’t keep using this company to meddle in my life!”

He tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You look so hot when you’re mad. Like a wild cat ready to pounce.”

“Jungkook!” she shouted, her face flaming.

Before she could continue, she suddenly winced, clutching her belly as a sharp pain radiated through her body. A soft moan of discomfort escaped her lips, and her anger turned into worry.

Jungkook was on his feet in an instant, his teasing demeanor gone. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I… it’s just pregnancy pain,” she mumbled, trying to steady herself. But the pain didn’t subside, and she felt tears prick her eyes.

“Sit down,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her to the couch. She resisted briefly but gave in as another wave of discomfort hit her.

He crouched in front of her, his face full of concern. “I’m getting some help.”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice shaky. “It’ll pass. Just… help me relax.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook grabbed a small bottle of olive oil from his desk drawer.

“Why do you have olive oil in your office?” she asked, her voice strained but curious.

“Emergency skincare,” he replied, deadpan, though his focus was entirely on her.

Before she could protest, he gently unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt, exposing her round belly. His touch was surprisingly tender as he poured a small amount of oil onto his palms and began to massage her belly in slow, soothing circles.

Y/N’s breath hitched, partly from the relief and partly from the intimacy of the moment. Jungkook’s hands moved expertly, his fingers warm and gentle against her skin.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of emotion. “I’ve got you.”

As the pain began to subside, he moved to massage her shoulders and legs, his touch firm yet careful. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how deeply he cared.

“Why are you crying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I can’t stand seeing you in pain,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to her belly. “You’re carrying our baby, Y/N. You’re doing this all on your own, and I…” He trailed off, his voice cracking.

Y/N’s heart softened as she watched him cradle her bump gently, his fingers splayed protectively across her skin.

The baby kicked suddenly, and Jungkook’s eyes widened in awe. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in months, she saw the man she had fallen in love with—the man behind the arrogance and teasing.

Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, both of them pouring months of unspoken emotions into that single moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”

She chuckled softly, her cheeks flushed. “Only if you promise to stop calling me a wild cat in front of people.”

He grinned, his dimples appearing. “Deal. But behind closed doors?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, playfully swatting his arm. “We’ll see.”

As the tension dissolved into laughter, the two of them realized that the wall between them had finally come down. They weren’t just co-parents or ex-spouses anymore—they were partners, ready to face whatever the future held together.

END.