#snowflake wc

[skuffypaw]

i gathered up all the white cats with blue eyes and drew them

[eggfeather]

snowflake

[shallowbreeze]

Snowflake

Snowflake is a plump, long-haired, pure white she-cat with blue eyes

[lemnnshark]

"On Vicky's Facebook, Cloudy is a pale gray and white she-cat with blue eyes."

"On Vicky's Facebook, Icicle is a sturdy, sleek-furred pale gray tom with blue eyes. He has a white chest, muzzle, and a white marking down his forehead."

"On Vicky's Facebook, Sniff is a dark gray tabby tom with yellow eyes and a runny nose."

"On Vicky's Facebook, Snowflake is a dark gray she-cat."

[gingerbravecookie]

presenting to thee. the cookie run yuri chart. featuring your favorite yuri flavors!!! such as the horrors<3

[exocynraku]

little trees

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Ravenpaw's Path Rewritten

I remember getting in trouble for reading these books in math class instead of paying attention back in middle school. *sigh* Sweet, sweet nostalgia... Not too much actually changes here, but there is one fairly significant change that isnt too important right now, but it will be later...

Ravenpaw and Barley are relaxing in the barn one day until a group of cats appear out of seemingly nowhere. They beg the two to be allowed to stay in the barn for a short time. Upon noticing that one of the cats is heavily pregnant, they agree. The strangers say that they are former city cats who were recently forced to run from the city due to the New Coven of Blood (Ravenpaw and Barley are shocked to hear that the group is still active, albeit under new leadership) and introduce themselves. The pregnant molly is Minty and her mate is Willie, and the others are Snapper, Pounce, and Tess.

Soon, Minty gives birth to four healthy kits: Icicle, Squall, Snowflake, and the runt of the litter Sniff. Ravenpaw is happy to help care for the kits, but Barley is suspicious of them. He swears that he recognizes the group from somewhere, but he just can't place where...

Five moons later, and Barley (and Ravenpaw too) is becoming increasingly suspicious and concerned about the group of strange cats. The adults are teaching the kits dangerous battle moves, and Sniff is mostly ignored while her larger and stronger siblings receive most of the love and attention of the group. Ravenpaw does their best to play with her and give her positive attention and Sniff adores him for it.

That morning, Willie tells Ravenpaw and Barley that the group has decided to stay at the barn permanently instead of leaving as planned once the kits are of age to travel. When Barley and Ravenpaw protest, the group tell them that it's non-negotiable and violently attack the two and drive them away from the barn. When Violet attempts to intervene, they threaten to kill her and she is forced to flee back into the farmhouse as her brother and his mate flee into the forest.

The two decide to enlist the help of their friends in ThunderClan to drive out the rogues. On the way there, they discover a trio of kits playing by Fourtrees. Upon learning that the kits are from WindClan, they round the rambunctious siblings up and head towards WindClan territory. They end up interrupting an escalating fight between a WindClan patrol lead by the kits' panicked mother and a confused ThunderClan patrol. The mother is overjoyed for the return of her kittens and the ThunderClan patrol takes the two back to ThunderClan to meet with Firestar.

Upon their return, Ravenpaw is tackled by Dustpelt before he and Barley can begin to explain why they're there. Dustpelt is very happy to see his littermate and practically drags Ravenpaw into the Nursery so he can meet he and his mates' newborn sons Spiderkit and Shrewkit. While in the Nursery, Ravenpaw also finds Firestar with his own kits Squirrelkit and Leafkit. He and Barley are finally able tell Firestar and Dustpelt what happened to them.

Dustpelt is ready to commit murder, but Ravenpaw convinces him that all they want is for the squatters to leave and murder is unnecessary. Firestar lets Ravenpaw and Barley take a small group of Warriors consisting of Dustpelt, Thornclaw, Sandstorm, and Graystripe back to the barn with them to drive away the rogues. Much to their surprise, they encounter the rogues fleeing from the barn- minus Willie and Sniff. Minty is particularly distraught and the (remaining) kits are very obviously traumatized. When asked why they're leaving, all they can get out of them is that there are new intruders in the barn that murdered Willie and they're leaving so they won't be next.

They disappear before Ravenpaw can even ask where Sniff is. With much trepidation, the group enters the barn. A pair of toms with tooth-spiked colors and bloody claws are standing over Willie's body. They look as shocked to see Barley as Barley is to see them. These are the Coven cats Scorpion and Snake, but Barley knows them as his and Violet's littermates who remained with The Coven of Blood while they left.

Snake and Scorpion are both shocked. They were apparently told that their siblings had died rather than ran away and seem genuinely happy to see their brother again. They start to ask about Violet before she comes running into the barn after seeing the commotion. She just stares in shocked silence, seemingly not knowing whether or not to be more shocked by the corpse or the reappearance of her long-lost siblings.

Snake and Scorpion begin asking frantic questions: is this where you've been all this time? why did you leave? why were we told that you'd died? is this scrawny weirdo your mate, Crusher?

When interrupted and asked why they killed Willie by Sandstorm, the toms have an easy answer. When Claw made The New Coven of Blood after the death of Scourge, there was a big struggle for leadership. Willie was one of the cats who attempted to seize control of the new organization by killing Claw. He failed, but he and his co-conspirators had escaped and Claw had essentially put a hit out on them. Whoever brought their bodies back to the Coven would be awarded a position of power as Claw's Second.

After Claw and the remains of The New Coven were defeated, the brothers noticed Willie's scent close by the barn and upon recovering from their battle wounds, sought him out to kill him and bring his body back to the city to use the influence it would give them to recreate The Coven again, but this time with the two of them in charge. They happily offer to bring Barley and Violet along, the four of them could rule together! Barley and Violet are horrified and disgusted by the awful cats their brothers have become and reject the offer immediately.

Heartbroken and angry, Snake and Scorpion attack their littermates in retaliation, but are easily beaten back by them and the patrol and Barley and Violet disown the two and chase them off. Graystripe asks Sandstorm if they should be worried about the two of them possibly making a new Coven, but Sandstorm tells him that they're too weak to do that. Willie's body is buried and the patrol says goodbye to the barn cats.

Meanwhile, in WindClan territory, the queen Dandelionfur encounters a small black kitten wandering alone. She asks the kit her name, and she pauses for a moment before replying that her name is Raven. She follows Dandelionfur back to WindClan as the book ends.

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part one of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it

↬ sfw; only fluff this chapter; wc: 3.4k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor!reader

( masterlist )

The chill of the night air bit at your exposed cheeks as you climbed the final steps to the astronomy tower, your breath visible in faint puffs. Winter had arrived particularly early this year, chilling your bones even now, on the last weekend of october. The school lay quiet below, the golden glow of the countless windows no longer having given in to the darkness of a cold autnumm night.

You pulled your robe tighter around you, wincing at the faint creak of the wooden door as it swung open by the push of your hand. You knew you shouldn't be out after curfew- your brother was usually the one breaking rules and making trouble- but the pull of him was irrestible. He, who’s voice cut through the haunting silence like a knife.

“I was starting to think you wouldn't show.”

You froze mid-step, your heart leaping to your throat at the familiar voice. Even though you had been expecting it. Theodore Nott was was leaning casually against the stone railing, his pale face bathed in the cold light of the moon that sharpened every dip and curve in the prettiest way. A light smirk was curling at the corner of his lips, his usual cigarette dangling from his pink lips. His green slytherin tie was loosened, his robes slightly crumpled, as if he’d wandered here on a whim rather than planned this meeting. But you knew better. Theo rarely did anything without careful thought.

“I had to make sure the coast was clear,” you replied, trying to copy his nonchalance. His dark eyes followed you closely as you crossed the space between you, coming to a halt a few feet away from the railing to keep some distance between you and the abyss. It was funny how you could ride a stick of wood regularly, tens of meters in the air, but looking down a great height with steady floor under you feet had nausea creep up your chest.

You tried not to shift under his prying eyes. Being eyed up by Theodore Nott was a rather particular feeling. Every time you met his eyes, you felt like he was staring right through you, blowing through every cover, every mask, every wall you had ever shielded your true self with and assessing it with disarming precision. As you returned his stare, his smile widened a little and he puffed on his cigarette. “You’ve gotten better at sneaking around, though. Tell me, do the Potter genes include an innate sense of rule-breaking?”

“And here I was, thinking I was your ‘good girl’,” you replied, quoting his teasing nickname. A rare laugh escaped his throat, more of a huff, really, that he hid in his hand holding the cigarette. You eyed it reproachfully.

“You’re going to die at a very young age, Theo.”

Slightly puzzled, he looked down at you, blowing smoke into the air and holding out an arm to beckon you closer. Answering the silent invitation, you let him nudge you towards him gently, the cigarette-free hand pulling you closer by the waist. “Is that a threat, cara? Because I could think of no better way to die than by your gentle hands.”

The charming bastard got a hold of said hands that were shivering slightly from the cold as you had forgotten to put gloves on, and pressed a gentle kiss onto your palm, carefully watching your reaction. You could only pray he took the flush on your cheeks as a symptom of the cold rather than your flustered reaction to his Italian.

“That's not what I meant,” you frowned, indicating the cigarette between his slender fingers. “What I meant was that you’re going to smoke yourself into an early grave.”

God, the way his eyelashes caught the few too-early snowflakes melting hopelessly on the ground. You gave a high-pitched tone of surprise when suddenly, he surged forward, pulling you even closer and trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Tell me you’d hate that,” he whispered and you gave him an incredulous look he couldn't see.

“Of course I’d hate that!”

Before you could say anything else, Theo discarded the cigarette over the railing. Though you had no time to follow the tiny glowing ember on its way down, because just a fraction of a second later, his lips crashed into yours and you let out a startled squeak. Feeling him smile against your lips, you kissed him back in a weak attempt to take the initiative. He allowed you to play, but the movement of his hands, the caging of his arms and the way he beckoned your mouth open so easily proved his underlying dominance. Theo just wasn't beatable at kissing.

This was what you had been looking forward to all day, sitting through transfiguration, charms and defense against the dark arts, all subjects you had without him, stealing longing glances over dinner and quickly looking back as to avoid drawing the attention of your friends or brother to the silent exchange.

As the kiss got more heated, Theo’s fingers curled into your sides, spinning you around so you were with your back to the railing. Miraculously, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All there was in this microcosm of the two of you was him, you and the feeling of his lips on yours. One hand of his cupped your jaw, angling it slightly back to gain best access to your throat. As his lips trailed down the expanse of it, nipping, kissing and sucking, you found yourself snapping out of your theo-kiss-induced haze and pulled away aprubtly.

Panting, you covered Theo’s lips with one hand and he raised his eyebrow at you. He did that well, his eyes alone could make your stomach flutter. But you didn't give in. “Theo, what if someone sees marks on my-” You're were a little embarrassed about the subject matter, breaking off mid-sentence, and glared at his shit-eating grin, invisible behind your hand. “Well, I mean-” You were blushing. Oh god, you were blushing like crazy.

“Did you not enjoy that, cara?” Theo whispered seductively, carefully prying your hand from his mouth and kissing it gently. His eyes glinting with mirth, he looked at you challengingly.

“Of course I did!” you said, exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. You hated it when Theo took advantage of your unfamiliarity with intimacy and relationships. “But nobody can see!”

You expected him to tease you some more, so you were surprised when he merely breathed a long sigh and pulled you into his chest. Immediately, you buried your nose in his robes that smelled of him so deliciously. Smoke, old wood, a hint of mint, bookshelves. You felt him breathe your scent in as well, nose buried in your hair, and laughed lightly, but he didn't join in. His voice was a whisper, hard to make out.

“How long do you think we can keep this up before someone finds out?”

You didn't want to answer the question.

Something picking at the back of your hand snapped you out of your drowsy state. Still tired from last night, you had dozed off a little in history of magic, but as soon as you caught the culprit of the picking at your hands, a hardly suppressed smile pulled at your lips. It was a little paper bird, and the fancy handwriting clearly indicated it as a note from Theo.

You waited until Professor Binns turned his back to the class to write on the blackboard, before carefully slipping the note into your lap, shielding it from Hermoine who sat next to you, taking notes. When you carefully folded the note open, you were greeted by Theo’s elegant handwriting.

If you keep chewing on your quill like that, I might lose my ability to concentrate.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you glanced sideways at him, where he sat a few rows behind your brother who had his head buried in his folded arms, fast asleep. Theo was leaning back in his chair, his quill poised lazily over his parchment as though he had been diligently taking notes, instead of composing witty distractions. His lips curved into a light smirk when your eyes met, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Well?

You hastily scribbled back, your handwriting looking sloppy and slanted next to his. Maybe I'm trying to distract you. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, Nott. With a flick of your wand, the note floated subtly back to his desk, and you could barely contain a smile as his brows lifted in amused surprise before he began to write again.

Turning to the blackboard to copy the notes, you felt Hermoine's eyes on you and looked up from your parchment. She was eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?” she whispered, sparing a nervous glance at the professor. “Nothing,” you answered, hastily grabbing the next messenger pigeon out of the air before it could enter your friend's vision. You could practically feel Theo chuckling at your unlucky predicament.

But Hermoine turned back to Binns once more to listen to his sermon and you stuffed the bird into your back subtly to read it after class and away from prying eyes.

“You’d be a half-decent Chaser if you didn't spend half the match showboating,” Theo drawled, his tone so casual it was clearly meant to provoke.

He leaned against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed as he regarded you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. You, meanwhile, were sprawled across the emerald-green bedspread of his four-poster, arms tucked behind your head like you owned the place. At his words, you shot up immediately, propping yourself up on one elbow. “That's rich coming from the guy who winks at the crowd every time he scores- what’s that, part of your technique?”

The slytherin dormitory was quiet, except for crackling of the enchanted fire in the corner and the endless string of your playful teasing. Theo and you had the room for yourselves today as his mates were in Hogsmeade and Theo had stayed behind with the excuse of homework. As if he hadn't already finished all his work like the flawless O-grader he was.

“And anyway, I don’t see you scoring against Gryffindor’s defense without half your team clearing the way for you.” you teased, attempting to get a rise out of your ever calm and collected boyfriend.

But Theo’s smile only deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Jealous of my stats, are we, Potter? It’s not my fault you lot rely on your Seeker for every win.”

“You-” you started, your eyes narrowing, but his soft chuckle cut you off. You tossed one of his pillows at him instead, grinning when he caught it effortlessly. “Just keep laughing, Nott. You’ll regret it next match when I leave you in the dust.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your ankle and shrieked as you were pulled towards him with alarming force. Before you could comprehend the shift in his behavior, he jolted forward as well, hovering over your body, sprawled out defenselessly underneath him. A light smile played around his lips as he took in your shocked expression with satisfaction and he brought a gentle hand up to your chin to tilt it upward, giving him access to your neck.

Theo dipped his head down to trail ghostly kisses down to your shoulder, muttering against your skin: “Are you sure about that, tesoro? Because I think you’ll have to work on your reaction time a bit before you can beat me.”

“Sneaky bastard,” you said, but couldn't suppress a high-pitched moan when Theo suddenly buried his teeth in your shoulder. Embarrassed by the sound that had slipped from your lips, you threw your hand over your mouth and blushed when he chuckled darkly into your neck.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he teased, looking up at you through his long dark lashes. Your pointed glare and flushed cheeks were answer enough.

When Theo broke out into a hearty laugh, you attempted to scowl at him, but it was hard when you were half in wonder by the sound of his laughter you got to hear so rarely. All the years you hadn't known Theo except for that one slytherin boy, you thought he couldn't laugh. When he did it for the first time with you, talking in the library over a muggle book you both had read and neither of you could talk to anyone else about, that was the first time you felt a flutter of butterflies rummaging in your stomach in his presence.

Awestruck by the sound of his laughter, you realized you had spaced out for a moment. Theo’s cackle had faded into a soft smile you could only reciprocate. His handsome features were painted with a gentle brush by the light of the fire. “You should laugh more often,” you said, not for the first time. “It’s beautiful.”

Theo hummed amused and leaned on his elbows to hover only a few inches above you. At this angle, his dark curls fell into his eyes, obstructing the view somewhat, so you reached up to run a hand through them. Savoring your touch, he closed his eyes and when he opened them, they held an implicit hunger that made you gulp. “I like your laugh too, tesoro. Love it, in fact,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from yours and you were itching to close the space in between. “And what I also love is y-”

Something banged at the door and both of you shot up, startled. As you stared at it unmovingly, the chatter of boy’s voices now unmistakably being heard through the closed door, Theo, the ever-quick thinker, jumped off the bed and beckoned you to follow. You shot up, heart thrumming with horror, scrambling onto your belly and rolling under Theo’s bed as far back as possible. With one quick glance to check if you were okay, that you answered with a silent thumbs-up, Theo got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it.

“Theo, you bloke! Why did you lock the fucking door?” you heard a voice that sounded very much like Mattheo Riddle's shout. Several heavy steps resounded against the wooden floor and from under the bed, you could make out four pairs of shoes, undoubtedly belonging to Riddle, Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini.

“I was studying,” Theo said, annoyance shimmering through his voice. “I prefer to do that undisturbed.”

You silently thanked the heavens that you and Theo had actually been studying before and therefore supplanted convincing evidence consisting of books and parchment. But suddenly, another realization dawned on you and your stomach curled with dread. Your parchment was up there too, with your handwriting and your name on it!

Theo’s eyes had also fallen on your parchment and he casually strolled over to his bed to collect it, concealing it with his and setting it aside. He felt annoyance rise within him and tried to keep it at bay. Of course his mates would barge in unexpectedly early in the exact moment he was about to confess his love to you. Clearing his face of any resemblance of emotion, he turned back around, leaning against his bedpost and trying his best not to worry about you, squeezed under his bed.

“You’re early,” he remarked, raising one brow. A memory almost made his lips twitch, of you trying to imitate the way he was able to raise one brow.

The boys threw glances at each other, some wary, but Blaise laughed. Only now did Theo notice his bleeding lip, and the others didn't look better of. Damn. He was really distracted when he hadn't even noticed it until now, when he always counted on his flawless perceptional ability.

“Who did you brawl with?” he sighed, though amused, looking directly at Mattheo who raised his hands in defense.

Draco nodded his way, dapping at a cut above his eyebrow with his shirt. “Mattheo picked a fight with Potter and some of his mates and we had to flee the scene before the old McGonagall caught us. Potter and Weasley got detention though.” He laughed in malicious joy and Theo's lips twitched slightly at the thought of you rolling your eyes under the bed.

“Potter’s sister wasn't with them though,” Enzo pondered, swapping out his slightly bloody hoodie for a clean one. When his head ascended from his collar, hair slightly disheveled, he was met with four pairs of raised brows. Well, three pairs plus one.

“What do you care about Potter’s sister?” Mattheo grinned wolfishly and Enzo rolled his eyes, chucking his bloody hoodie at him that got Mattheo right in the laughing face. Over that, he thankfully missed the subtle clench of Theo’s jaw at hearing him say ‘Potter’s sister’ in such an invidous tone.

Enzo, evidently, didn't like it either, which didn't help Theo’s irritation that he hid behind a mask of indifference. “She’s actually quite nice,” Enzo retorted, rolling his eyes at Mattheo’s and Blaise’s teasing whistles.

“Where’d you talk to her?” Theo asked, making his words sound so utterly indifferent nobody picked up on his sudden focus on the subject.

Under the bed, your heart did a little leap when you realized why he was asking. Though Theo was no outright jealous person, you sometimes caught him stealing glances at your male friends, voice tightening subtly when he talked about them. Anytime you teased him for it, he denied it, of course, saying jealousy was irrational and for fools because he knew you would never even glance at them. Hearing his inquire, you made a mental note to taunt him with it when this was all over.

“The library,” Enzo said, sitting down on his bed and taking one of his novels off the shelve. “I’m lousy in Arithmetic, as you know, and she isn't.”

“I’m surprised she even talked to you,” Blaise said as he magically fixed his lip in the mirror, making sure it looked flawless and untainted. “From what I gather, she’s the biggest goody-two-shoes in school, and a Griffindor ontop of that, why would she associate with a Slytherin?”

Enzo only shrugged, and Mattheo let out a loud groan as he longed himself at his bed that creaked under his impact. “Merlin, why are we still talking about Potters? There is so much more interesting stuff to talk about. Like what Theo has been doing today. Or who.”

He threw a teasing smile Theo’s way who raised his brow nonchalantly. “I told you, I was studying.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mattheo yawned, but kept his gaze fixed in his friends indecipherable expression. “You’re already five steps ahead in class, every assignment this year you got back with an O, what would you need to study for? Not to mention, you’ve been sneaking out more lately, and I bet it’s not ‘cause you’re dating Filch.”

Theo returned his stare unblinkingly, keenly aware of the fact that you were listening to every word. “So what if I am?” A slight smile graced his lips as he leaned his head against the bedpost. “Can't I fuck who I want?”

“Sure,” grinned Mattheo, unrelenting. “But you haven't done a lot of sleeping around for the last few months, from what I can gather. Seems to me like your man-whore-heart finally rests in the hands of only one unlucky girl.”

“Your audacity calling me fickle when you’ve slept your way through every willing girl in our grade is obnoxious,” Theo sneered, making the other boys laugh and directing the conversation towards the ravenclaw girl who’s heart Mattheo had broken just yesterday. With the other boys distracted, Theo dared kneeling down, pretending to tie his shoelaces while at the same time peering into the dark under his bed.

His eyes met yours in an instant as you raised your brows teasingly, and as he rose to his feet, Theo could hardly suppress a little smile that dared creep upon his face.

[kazusys]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

kissing genshin men under the mistletoe! / fluff / no cw / other: you’re not dating in all scenarios! (❕) a/n: i did NOT proofread. but this took me a bit… hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! happy holidays! :)

characters included: albedo, childe, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, tighnari, wriothesley, xiao, and zhongli.

wc: ~4.4k words

“relax, it’ll be fine!” he said. “just lead her to the mistletoe when you two are chatting at the party; after all, you both are probably going to stick together the entire time anyways.”

that was kaeya’s advice. of course albedo took it, considering the probabilities of it working due to his insane roster of people fawning over him for just existing. of course he’d be more educated in this area.

but how would he be able to enact said advice if the guy who gave the advice in the first place was busy taking up all your time at the stupid party?

albedo was ready to just head home at this point. there was no point in waiting for you if he was most likely going to chicken out in the end anyways.

a boisterous laugh from kaeya brought albedo out of his little slump as he looked over, watching as the guy pushed you lightly his direction. you seemed… almost bashful. it was cute.

you shuffled through the people dancing and walking around before stopping in front of him.

“hey, ‘bedo.” you smile.

“(y/n), it’s good to see you here.” albedo returned, realizing that besides the initial hello you two shared before you were whisked away elsewhere, this was the first time he’d been able to talk to you tonight.

“good to see you too, i was thinking— there’s this place i wanna show you outside of the party, would you want an escape for a bit?”

he followed you immediately.

the spot was serene. the backdrop of all the constellations and the hanging moon in the sky were in full view, a couple trees here and there adorning the already pleasing landscape. albedo wished he had brought something to paint with, but a mental remembrance would have to do for now.

“it’s… stunning.” he murmured out as you continued walking. you went over to a tree whose leaves leaned forward just a bit, providing some shade. you sat down under it, patting the ground next to you.

this was his sort of paradise. the cool breezes, the quiet atmosphere, the world seemingly frozen as you two sat so close that one movement would have your arms brushing together.

he made that one movement.

you gave him a glance before seemingly staring at the sky. “look up in the branches of the tree.”

he did so without a word, his eyes zeroing in at the singular, small irregularity amongst the greenery of the tree.

mistletoe.

a light blush spread across his face, his eyes widening as they faced yours, which were already staring at him. he forced his expression to go back to being as neutral as he could manage, before cupping your face with one hand and bringing you in for a kiss.

needless to say, kaeya was a good matchmaker.

the holidays have always been a heartwarming time with ajax’s family, not to mention that ever since you joined him, he waits twice as excitedly to see them again.

he loves the domestication of you with his younger siblings, his parents, him; in a warm house with snowflakes floating down amongst the scenic landscape outside and everyone inside away from the troubles of the world. all his loved ones, together, in one place, safe.

taking your hands and spinning you around, he lets go of one to hold your hand as you both sprint to the house ahead. you love how his eyes shine as he knocks on the door, his younger siblings tackling him and squeezing you tightly to the ground with his parents reprimanding them and herding them back inside.

you’re grateful for the warmth of the house as you shed off your winter gear and help ajax get off his as his siblings spout off with questions for him that they couldn’t fit in the letters sent back and forth between them.

at one point, they bring their big brother in to whisper something in hushed voices. ajax chuckles as they scurry off, shaking his head and smiling brightly at you. he almost seems like a kid again, the way his smile reaches far and he looks like he can’t get any happier.

you see teucer poke his head out from behind a wall and beckon ajax over. he goes over, but not without a glance to you showing off the mischievous glint in his eyes.

you wait in anticipation with a smile as you hear everyone with him giggle and push him out with a newly acquired headpiece, a headband with a string attached to a mistletoe.

a few seconds go by with your laughter before ajax teasingly says, “so, are you going to come over here, or?”

you be sure to give a thumbs up to his siblings before tackling him in a hug and bringing him in close for a smooch or two.

“stay still,” you softly chided, “i’m not going to be able to get all this sand out if you don’t.”

“sorry.” cyno replied, glancing back at the ceiling. of all methods…

this was purely tighnari and collei’s doing. they’re the only ones who know cyno’s preferred place to sit as you “help get the bits of persistent sand in his hair” even though he knows that he can do it himself.

when had they placed that there?

cyno quietly sighed as you finished with the ends of his strands, carefully taking off your gloves and putting down your brush on the towels beneath you both.

“alright, then— good night, cyno.” you say as you get up, although hesitant. you wanted to spend more time with him, but with his narrow schedule, you don’t mind putting his rest before your own desires. you wait for him to stand and get off the towels, which he does, before cradling them in a way so that the sand on top of them won’t spill. you give a small “bye, sleep well,” before turning to leave.

you feel his coarse fingers delicately wrap around your upper arm, a gasp leaving your lips as he pulled you back with a force that you’d be able to escape from if you wanted to.

“cy—”

“look up.”

you do as told.

as soon as your eyes meet the red and green symbol, you feel the same fingers that pulled you to him hold your chin, bringing your focus to him.

he speaks through the meeting of your eyes, and you allow him with a response of your lips against his.

he separates after a bit before diving back in. after such a small taste of paradise, he can’t help but want more.

of course someone put a mistletoe above the doorway of the tavern. and of course he didn’t remove it incase you came by today. and of course kaeya teased him for it.

no matter how annoying, he’d go through it if it meant you’d come to him at the end of the day.

and that you did.

you rushed past the door in excitement to tell him about your hectic, but interesting, day as diluc ignored the knowing stare he got from the calvary captain.

with a small smile, you two stayed talking until midnight, when diluc finished cleaning and closed up the tavern.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, ‘luc.” you smile, as he does the same despite his diminishing hope at being able to kiss you under the protruding plant that you two were still standing under.

just as he came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one who’d initiate the kiss, you leaned in close to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “you’re obvious when you want something, you know that?”

he chuckled a bit after he recovered. “you just know me well.”

he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in again.

“your office is so… bland. for someone like you, i expected at least some interesting decorations especially during this season.”

“‘for someone like you’?” kaeya rose an eyebrow, eyeing the box you set on his desk. “and furthermore, i haven’t had the time to decorate for the season! i’m always busy with work or spending time with you.”

“or at the tavern,” you pointed out, taking items and sorting them out across the floor from the box. “hmm, red or blue?”

“both. and what if i was just waiting for you to come in and help me since we both did a pretty good job last year?” it wasn’t a total lie. he was waiting for you, but only to be able to spend more time together.

“straight line or dips? then i think that’d be a lie,” you countered, “after all, your office was as brightly adorned as the outside all those years back before i came in to help.”

“on the walls? straight would be easier. dips would look good on the desk, though.” kaeya said as he adjusted some of the ribbons he fluffed out. “i like your company.”

a smile creased your features as you stayed quiet at the thought for a few seconds before replying with a “i like yours, too.”

eventually, you both stepped back to revel the sight. you sipped the last bits of the now lukewarm drink kaeya brought for you earlier. you remembered the way your fingers brushed against each other and the small spark that you hoped he shared.

you felt him brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

when did he get so close?

he tilted your head up to the ceiling, your heart beating fast and resounding in your ears.

and then he kissed you, soft and delicately.

amidst the glowing lights and cheery decor, nothing could’ve matched the high spirits you and kaeya were feeling right then and there.

kazuha's observant. he always has been. so he’ll always know when you’re not giving yourself as much love as you should be. case in point…

“i know that i am not the most perfected in this art…” says the guy who can make cussing sound flowery and sweet sounding, “but i made this small book for you. it’s full of haikus and other forms of poetry containing everything i find attractive about you.”

you take the quite hefty book full of papers and some apparent trinkets sticking out of some of the pages (like flowers that remind him of you and such) with care. its title is (y/n), my muse and eternity.

you can’t seem to find your words. “kazuha… this is…”

he smiles at how happy you look.

he knows that insecurities are far from that of the like of small insects and the such, in which you can just kill them with a little flick or small press of a youth’s finger.

insecurities are plagues, brought from hell itself to block out what objectivity sees.

he knows that his words won’t be enough to quell your troubles permanently, but he’ll damn well try just to see that smile and see you free from what’s trapping you in that moment.

he flips the pages to the end where papers face you devoid of ink. he gestures above, where a small plant glistens amidst the dull space where you two are seated. you swear that wasn’t there when you walked in.

you feel him slowly trace your arm, as if asking permission to pull you closer. you lace your fingers together, relishing in the warmth of his presence as you let yourself come closer.

his lips meet yours, soft as his appearance but as passionate as his dreams and ambitions.

and when you two come apart, he takes ink and a quill from a nearby table and fills in the blank page with new words, swiftly getting the mistletoe from above to tuck into the pages like a bookmark.

lips—

with the snow falling

in the slumber of the world

Heaven-sent are they

with warmth to my days

with feelings of home in you

paradise is found

“a private show right now?” you softly laugh.

“exactly! and you’re in for a treat today— i picked up a book per someone’s recommendation about the significance of different flowers and their meanings! and i will incorporate that in the trick i’m about to show you!” he spouted excitedly, bowing in front of you as he usually does before a performance.

“well then, let’s see what you’ve got for me today that’s different than all the other shows you’ve already shown me!” you say, sitting in the chair he prepared ahead of time.

he smiles. taking his hat off again, he swirls his fingers over the opening.

“oh, it seems there’s something stuck; give me a second…” and with a yank, out he pulls a bouquet of rainbow roses. he offers them to you with a warm grin.

you take it with wide eyes, holding it close to you as you relish in how your fingers brushed against his and the remembrance of the meaning of these flowers.

taking advantage of the proximity, lyney brushes back a piece of your hair, reaching behind your ear and pulling out a piece of mistletoe with small buds blossoming on the branches.

you feel your face become unbearably hot.

he leans in to whisper. “this part isn’t a trick, by the way… these flowers represent my feelings rather well, i think. do you accept them?”

you can feel your heart pounding as you nod, his lips reaching yours as soon as you do. it’s passionate, just as the flowers represent.

once you both pull back, he says, “how do you rate your performance?”

“i’ll rate it ten out of ten if you kiss me again.”

he does. 10/10!!

what a stupid touchy feeling tradition. absolutely stupid. absolutely not worth his time setting up just because of your stupid romantic fantasies.

well, i guess that makes him stupid, then.

if all goes wrong, he has at least five back-up plans ready. so there’s nothing to lose, right?

except maybe possibly hopefully the norm of friendship you two have changing into something more.

but, he knows that if his hopes are set too high, they can come crashing down more hurtful than falling from a fifty-story skyscraper.

so he settles for stomping out his icky hopes and dreams for this encounter in favor of not going insane. at most, you were probably going to just peck him on the cheek as a ‘friendly gesture’. or slap him altogether.

it was still a good ten minutes or so before your designated meeting time, so he closed his eyes and waited beneath one of the shady areas of the forest hangout you both discussed on, listening for the sound of your footsteps. to his mild surprise, he heard them coming just a few minutes later.

you emerged from the trees, your eyes widening a bit before smiling to seemingly cover it up. “scara’! sorry, did i make you wait for long?”

he shook his head, eyeing the basket you were holding before meeting your gaze. “you’re fine. i just arrived.” which was a lie, he came extra early to prepare.

“that’s good to hear. i met with the traveler a few days ago, and he taught me a few new recipes. i was wondering if you’d like to try them out?” you say, taking a small picnic blanket out. scaramouche offered to take it as he spread it out under the tree he was leaning against.

“sounds good, your cooking’s always something i look forward to.” he replied, throwing that compliment in for good measure.

you laugh softly, opening the basket and setting out the dishes. he can’t help but notice a certain small plant in there as well for a brief second before it’s gone, covered by a few napkins shifting around as you arrange the food and utensils.

ah. well…

he stops you momentarily, gently moving your hands off the basket as he brings it closer to himself, knelt down as he rummages through it and pulls out the small piece of mistletoe inside.

you’re quick to talk. “oh, that’s… that’s just a lucky charm i carry around. i… a friendsaidthat it’s supposed to bring good luck! and fortune! and i brought it to ensure that you wouldn’t uh—get food poisoning or something, y’know? or so that i won’—!”

you’re startled by scaramouche pulling you to your feet, a smirk on his face as his hands trail up to your face. his thumbs trace the sides of it as he says, “if you look up, i’m sure you’ll find something very confidence-boosting.”

you do.

he slowly leans in, like he’s seen other couples do. and he swears you’re something else and that something zapped his lips and spread through the rest of his body, because the moment your lips met it felt as if a small electrocution was taking place in each part of his being.

it’s almost so overwhelming that he also swears that he can feel his own heartbeat in there. what did you do?

a small paradise of his own, and he plans on never losing it.

(also something ate a portion your food— it wasn’t you or scaramouche— but hey, at least that means that he can spend time with you cooking that same dish again!)

sleeping out in the forest can be difficult, but for people like tighnari, you just get used to it.

however, that’s not the case this time around with the only sound that his ears seem to be registering being the sounds of you outside your tent, sitting on a stump, writing in your plant/personal(? he thinks?) journal, and very much awake after he told you to rest up for tomorrow.

he sighs, getting up. he’s not letting you do this.

you immediately turn your head to the sound of him exiting his tent, knowing you’re in for an earful about taking proper care of yourself. you know he cares, but at least wait until you’re finished writing these last few words…

“i told you at least an hour ago to head to sleep. you’ll need the energy for tomorrow.” he walks closer, ending in front of you with a hand on his hip, which he drops as soon as you look up at him.

“i know, but…”

“you can fill in whatever you want to fill in tomorrow. come on.” he gently ushers you to your feet, taking your hand and confiscating your notebook.

“tighn—!”

“i’ll give it back tomorrow. i don’t trust you not to write in it in your tent.” he leaves no room for complaint, evading all your attempts in retrieving the book until you eventually give up with a more than devastated look.

you reluctantly lie down, tighnari watching you till you put your covers over yourself.

“good night, (y/n),” he gives a small smile, “tell me if anything nearby irritates your senses. i won’t mind being waken up for that.”

and with that, he leaves.

he spares a glance at the notebook in his hand, still open to the page you were writing on. he had no intentions of reading it, but when your name’s written down in someone’s time, you’re bound to be curious why.

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘦

𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

— 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

you’ve certainly done your research. after swiftly skimming through that portion…

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

— 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵: 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘺. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵

that’s where it ends. in the book, a small mistletoe plant is nestled in between the pages. tighnari can feel his face heat and his tail jerking around excitedly behind him, prompting him to take a deep breath to calm down. it’s no use, really.

you like him?

he can’t help the smile that flutters up, taking the plant out and dropping off your notebook in his tent.

he goes over to yours, knocking his foot against the rocks outside as a sort of doorbell. he knows you’re awake.

meanwhile, you’re panicking and on the verge of running out and taking your chances in the dangers of the forest in the dark. you hear his knocking.

“you read it.” you manage from behind the curtain like doors. “i’m sor—”

“may i come in?”

he hears you inhale deeply. hesitant footsteps make their way over, opening the entrance to him.

immediately, he takes your hand. lifting his other arm, the mistletoe he has a hold of dangles above you both.

“i would,” is all he says before his lips press against yours.

both of your worlds spin, and every other noise in the avidya forest blurs away.

when you separate, he’s the first to speak with rosy cheeks decorating his features.

“mistletoe is also categorized as a parasitic plant, meaning it depends on other plants to survive by drawing nutrients from them. be sure to add that to your journal.”

“tighnari.”

he kisses you again in apology.

“your knuckles are all bruised again…” you mutter, taking his hands into your own. you brush your thumbs over the especially calloused areas.

“it’s really no big deal…” he murmurs, thinking you to be sweet for caring so heavily about him.

you get your bandages out. “are there any other places that are injured that i should know about?”

he shakes his head no, but then answers verbally realizing that with your eyes focusing on his hands, you probably didn’t see.

a couple minutes later and you’re done, a lot sooner than wriothesley would’ve wanted.

“flex your fingers.” he does so. you take the hand you just bandaged to fix one loose end. “i think that’s it…”

he subconsciously holds your hand in his. as per tradition— a sort of inside joke between you two— you bring his fingers to your lips and kiss his bandaged knuckles with a smile.

when you do the same to the other hand, he chuckles. you look at his head tilted upwards, looking up at the ceiling. you trail up as well, your eyes widening for a moment.

“it looks like sigewinne must’ve slipped in and done some decorating for me. we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

you recall her words from a few days ago to you. “well, if you don’t make a move soon, don’t be surprised when i intervene.”

you meet his eyes. he looks… bashful? embarrassed?

you gather up your confidence before it evaporates and move up to kiss him.

He stiffens before melting into the kiss, bringing you closer with the hand not holding yours on the small of your back and the other intertwining your fingers.

he chased your lips after you separated, and well; you both didn’t leave his office for a bit.

you definitely made sure to hug and give sigewinne a new sticker sheet afterwards.

you thought up the idea a while back, but never acted on it. xiao was… well, xiao. you simply didn’t think he’d like it, especially if he didn’t like you in that way. that’d just be awkward.

so you never did it, until one day after you consulted zhongli.

“it seems he does feel the same way, after all the talks we’ve shared of the topic being you, to whom he speaks very highly of.”

you smile at the thought now as you sit beside xiao, explaining the topic of mistletoe, which apparently he overheard from some people walking past that he wanted to learn about. what he heard you don’t know, so you prompt to start from the very beginning from its origins all the way to its tradition.

he stays quiet with a few questions throughout your speech, seemingly deep in thought.

you think that’s a good sign.

when you’re done, you look at him only to find him already staring at you.

“would you want to do that with me?”

your eyes widen at the sudden sentence before you throw out a response. “yes, i would.”

“i’ll be right back.” and before you can say anything, he vanishes. he comes back a few minutes later with something in his hand. a small mistletoe.

you stand up to his level, eyeing the blush beginning to spread across his face.

you smile serenely, taking his hand holding the plant and raising it above your heads. you then take the lead and lean in to kiss him.

in all of his years of being alive, xiao thinks he’s never felt so… actually alive. it’s always like that around you. you take him away from the automatic responses he gives and seemingly endless monotony that is slaying monsters and the sort. you give him some sort of essence he can’t describe that he’s been lacking all these years, decades, centuries, millenniums.

he loves you so dearly.

and when you separate, he finds himself seeking more, pulling you closer and kissing you again.

it’s his sort of reward for suffering for so long without this, he supposes.

“it’s rather late,” zhongli glanced over at the night sky, “shall we get going?”

you nod. “thanks for accompanying me today; though, i still feel guilty for taking up your time…”

he gives you a reassuring smile. “it is of no concern. i was not particularly busy, and any time spent with you is never wasted.”

you smile back. “you flatter me too much.”

“it is not as if you do not deserve it.” he responds. you can’t help but widen your smile. he continues speaking. “you’re staying over at the baiju guesthouse for now until your renovations are completed, correct?”

“i am! it’s been pleasant so far, and the decorations adorning the building for the season are definitely a sight to wake up to!”

a good amount of talking later, and finally at around midnight, you both arrive.

“i’m afraid i now must apologize for taking up your time, you ought to rest for tomorrow. shall we meet up soon?” his expression is soothing, but if you look a little deeper, a small glint in his eyes shows a bit of hopefulness and something else.

“of course, and…” you trail off, glancing up at the archway you two are standing under in front of the guesthouse. “happy holidays, zhongli.”

you quickly kiss him on the cheek before hurrying away, leaving a stunned zhongli in your wake, hand to the place where you kissed him, seemingly in awe.

he says your name delicately, like a sacred word meant to be worshipped. you stop your hand on the door, turning your head over to see him reach for your hands and spinning you around.

a small intake of air leaves you as he walks you both back under the mistletoe above that you spotted earlier. he then leans in close.

“may i?”

and you close the distance.

happy holidays indeed.

©️kazusys — 24/12/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

[eggfeather]

minty, sniff, cloudy, snowflake, and icicle

[ssahotchnerr]

Hotch x reader where he comes home from a long exhausting case across the country to find the smell of fresh gingerbread and reader in his hoodie and pjs decorating little gingerbread men and listening to christmas music (specifically nat king col's the christmas song is what I'm imagining) waiting for him to get home? Pls and thank<3

warmth of home

omg <3333 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, aaron self deprecating :(, mentions of haley, a lot a lot a lot of fluff <3 wc; 1.2k

After a long and gruesome case, Aaron couldn't begin to describe the instant comfort that filled his chest as he unlocked the door, knowing you were on the other side.

But upon his entry, the snowflakes lingering in his hair thawing instantly, the level of comfort was beyond what he expected. In addition to the inviting glow of the living room - you always left a light on - he was immediately met with the sweet smell of gingerbread. And so the first place he looked for you, the kitchen.

You had heard him enter, so when his footsteps entered the room, you turned from the oven. A spatula was in hand, and your cheeks were flushed due to the warmth of baking. With a breath of relief, "You're home."

Aaron's eyes softened at the sight of you, and while he was genuinely thrilled to see you, he had intended to force a bit more enthusiasm for your sake, but it was unnecessary. Just the sight of you caused all stressors to evaporate, he moved his feet forward.

With an arm around your waist, he immediately pressed his face into your neck. He was met with the traces of your shampoo, perfume, the warmth of your body, things he found himself yearning for when away. However, there was the obstacle of your hoodie, the hood bunching up and limiting both access and contact.

He released his hold, only to swiftly turn you around so you were facing him instead.

"This looks awfully familiar." His fingers moved to your sides, grasping the sweatshirt's fabric and pulling you flush against him by it.

Seeing you in his clothes warmed his heart in a way he couldn't describe; you, finding a way to feel close to him as he was gone.

You widened your eyes in dramatized innocence. You looked down, as if it were the first time you've ever seen it. "Does it?"

"I believe it's from my side of the closet?"

Your head tilted to the side, "Really? I don't recall."

"Looks better on you anyway." He laughed, leaning in and kissing you softly. Now, he was finally home. Some weight of the world alleviating off his shoulders.

You sensed it, knowing him better than he knew himself. After letting your lips linger for a couple seconds longer, you pulled away to peer up at him. "Rough case?"

Aaron grimaced slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "The past few days were long. Brutal. Just feeling more drained is all."

You pouted, the head-on view allowing you to study his face. His five o'clock shadow was more prominent, surprisingly he hadn't shaved in a day or two. A delay in upkeep, a sure sign of his stress also.

Your hand raised to his jaw, feeling the coarse hair. "I can tell. You look tired babe."

He felt it, too. The downward pull of his eyelids, exhaustion coursing through his body, longing to lay down (besides you) and adequately sleep.

Before his prolonged silence began worrying you further - he could already tell from the look on your face - he grabbed your hand, clasping it in his and holding to his chest. "I'm fine, seriously. Just couldn't wait to be home. Couldn't wait to see you."

"Then, I'm all yours until further notice. And more." You pecked his lips, your eyes filled with understanding and glowing with affection. You were here for him, to be the pair of listening ears if he so decided to share.

While he was tempted, he also wanted to push it aside, to revel in being home first and foremost. Aaron's gaze fell into the countertop behind you.

"You were quite busy." He commented, his eyes scanning the counter, an army of gingerbread men on the cooling trays.

"We were. But sadly my sous chef had a bedtime so it became more of a one woman job," Your arm fell behind him, rubbing his back softly. "It was nice though. Although not the intended purpose, it was a good distraction. I don't know what to do with myself when you're en route home." You laughed, pursing your lips into a soft smile. "I can't wait."

Aaron laughed softly, leaning his head against yours.

"I was just about to frost them." You quickly transferred the last few, "Wanna help? Or you can go unwind. Shower, put on something comfy, go to sleep. The choice is yours."

Despite his want for sleep, spending time with you was much more appealing. "I think I'll go with being your alternative sous chef."

With the Christmas music softly playing, and the tree illuminating in the background, an outsider would think this was a date night and not a last minute plan.

Despite how tired he looked, and surely felt, Aaron looked perfectly content icing the cookies. His suit jacket and tie were discarded, sleeves rolled up and shirt unbuttoned, exposing his t-shirt underneath. His concentration was unwavering, his eyebrows cast downward as he piped faces and other traits onto the cookies. Aaron found it grounding as well, a sense of normalcy after a treacherous caseload.

You soon found yourself focusing on him rather than the cookies, unwilling to tear your gaze away.

After a while his eyes lifted, to check on your work, but found your loving stare. His face pulled into amusement, familiar with your ogling tendencies. "What? Am I doing something wrong?"

"On the contrary," You briefly shook your head, with a smile, "You're just cute."

"You know..." Aaron began, giving his gingerbread man a tie. "I was thinking."

"You were?" Your eyes widened, feigning perplexity, "I'm so proud of you, honey."

"Ha ha." He playfully rolled his eyes, a smile forming on his lips. A laugh escaped you as his eyes dropped again, "Thank you."

Your nose crinkled in confusion, "For...?"

"For doing things like this, for Jack." Aaron candidly shared, setting a cookie aside. "Haley was always good at things like this too. Making the holidays more special, eventful. I'm not so savvy in the department. I probably would've never thought of baking gingerbread cookies."

"Aaron, you've would've. You have to give yourself credit where it's due. You're doing fine. You've been doing fine. Outstanding, even."

Aaron shrugged, the memory of the Halloween cookies he and Jack did flashing to mind. Maybe you weren't wrong. Truthfully, he didn't want to somehow taint Jack's future memories - that he wasn't doing enough and Jack wouldn't have fond, memorable things to look back on.

"I know he loves it," He gestured to the array of treats, "And I hope you know that I speak for the both of us when I say you're everything to us." His eyes met yours, meaning it with everything in him and more. "Thank you."

"Of course." You breathed out, blush tinting your cheeks.

While he was thinking crazy (and sadly understandably so), you felt tremendously touched. The small things never went unnoticed. "I'd do anything for Jack. For you. Always."

Aaron offered you a smile, his eyes shining in silent adoration before the two of you got back to work, love profusely radiating between the both of you throughout.

"We should save some for Jack to frost." Aaron broke the silence after a while, his sentence ending in a yawn as he got up from his seat.

"And you're worried you're not making things special for him. You sweet man and father." You scoffed lightly, embracing him and holding him tight. "C'mon, let's head to bed."

[mochinomnoms]

Shrimpy Chronicles: First Mating Season

NSFW!Jade Leech x Shrimpmer!Reader X Floyd Leech

Synposis:

Maybe Floyd was being prophetic when he called you ‘Little Shrimpy’. “But I’ve noticed, you’ve been getting pudgier lately, and feverish. Do you have a mating season, amor mia? I wasn’t aware if shrimps did.” She’d been pointing out your latest symptoms of late. Sensitive, soft and plush, hot, and red-cheeked, like your body was preparing you for something. It didn’t help that the waters had been warm of late, or that your husbands had been extra attentive with your meals and treats. And their attention. Especially their attention. The gold wedding bands and pearl ring on your left ring finger probably helped with that, though.

[wc} - 6,873

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader, merfolk-sex, breeding kink, prehensile dicks, twins stated to have both sets of sex, double-penetration in one hole, pregancy mentioned at end

[notes] - womp womp, this is my first smut fic, pls be nice. also i cracked and am shrimp-brained i love shrimp reader so fun to write!!!!

If you had to decide between going back home, and leaving Twisted Wonderland, by this point you’d happily stay here for the rest of your days! 

The gold wedding bands and pearl ring on your left ring finger probably helped with that, though. You were admiring them as your mother-in-law Narissa Leech swam to your side, her tail brushing against yours. 

She was a beautiful mermaid, long and slender with an aquamarine tone to her skin, and a speckled snowflake pattern. Her eyes were a bright yellow-gold, and gleamed at you with delight. 

“Mia cara nuora, whatever is going through your head? Still getting used to all this?” She gestured to your legs. Or your tail, you suppose. 

You’d gotten married to the twins just two months ago, and made the commitment to become a merperson, just like them. The first second of your honeymoon consisted of you permanently becoming a merperson, gaining scarlet scales that covered your lower back and hips, clustering into your shrimp tail and white stripe from the hips to the tip of the tail. Between that and the shrimp legs on their hips and upper tail, it was quite ironic that you ended up becoming a cleaner shrimp.

Maybe Floyd was being prophetic when he called you ‘Little Shrimpy’. 

“Yeah, it’s weird. Being in your own body when it wasn’t always your body. I think? I don’t know, it’s strange.” Despite never having 8 legs and a tail, they just felt surprisingly familiar and instinctual. 

“Oh nuora, you’re a natural! Don’t you worry, if my sons could pick up human movements, you’ll be like a true-born merfolk.” She cooed, curling her arm around yours and tugging you along back to your home.

“But I’ve noticed, you’ve been getting pudgier lately, and feverish. Do you have a mating season, amor mia? I wasn’t aware if shrimps did.”

She’d been pointing out your latest symptoms of late. Sensitive, soft and plush, hot, and red-cheeked, like your body was preparing you for something. It didn’t help that the waters had been warm of late, or that your husbands had been extra attentive with your meals and treats. And their attention. Especially their attention.

You’d been filled with the need to be taken care of by your mates. For all intents and purposes, it seemed that you’d been given a mating season with your merform. And with how touchy your husbands had been, they were quite aware, and anticipating the start of your season. 

“I think…I might.” You sheepishly admitted, embarrassed to discuss such an embarrassingly intimate fact. She seemed unbothered and content. 

“Oh how lovely, I have been looking forward to the possibility of becoming a grandmother!” She giggled, delighted at the thought. “You know, morays always have such small broods, but shrimps always have plenty of fry. Will you be considering giving me plenty of grandbabies?”

You flustered and stuttered at the idea of having babies, let alone many. It wasn’t something you were discontent with, in fact the thought of making Mini Yous and Jades and Floyds. 

You wonder how many times you’d have to go to give you your first. Would you be easy to knock up? Or would you need to be fucked over and over to ensure their seed took? 

You had to shake your head to settle down the heat in your cheeks and belly, making you feel all sorts of ways. 

“We’ll see Mama Narissa, I can’t say I’ve thought too much about it.” You lied.

Narissa laughed, twirling you around in a little dance. By the time she stopped, you were so dizzy that you couldn’t swim straight, pushing against her for support. 

“Oh darling, trust me, my boys certainly have. Don’t let them rough you up too much, cara, they’ve always been insatiable!” She laughed at your darling cheeks, teasing you as she took you to the rest home. 

She always swam you to your home, bringing you back from daily mother-in-law excursions. Narissa would take you out to the local town and introduce you to the folks, saying that it would be a good idea to make friends in town and start networking as the newest member of the Leech family. You were…faintly aware of the type of reputation your new family had, and while neither Jade nor Floyd cared about pushing you to maintain any sort of image. 

While their sons might not care (in fact the twins seemed content to just keep you to themselves), but their parents, Narissa and Bruno Leech, did. Narissa scolded her sons when they tried to hide you away, switching shifts at work so that you’d never be alone. 

It was her who insisted that you go out to town, meet with associates, and get you established in your spot in the family. The twins quickly gave in, as few could argue with the head of the Leech family.

You’d been surprised to hear that Narissa was the family head, or Donna, as you’ve heard others call her. From your conversations, Jade and Floyd had made out their father to be the one in charge, while their mother was overprotective and stayed home. While she was protective, she knew many people of various “backgrounds”, and spoke and held herself in a manner that demanded respect. 

Her husband, Bruno, was much more wry and relaxed compared to her, though he’d been the main liaison between Narissa and any associates. He also liked going to the surface for meetings and outings, unlike Narissa who preferred to stay in the sea. 

So, she’d been more than happy to drag her sons to work under their father, while she took you under her wing. You’d been suspicious, and felt that you could safely assume that the Leech parents were grooming you and their sons to eventually take over their positions. 

You appreciated it, since it kept you busy. Plus, you got to see how people really live under the sea, or the Leeches at least. Based on how spoiled the twins were, you were a bit surprised at the lack of servants of any sorts at home, except a small school of cleaner wrasses that immediately scattered off at the wave of your mother-in-law’s hand. 

The home for you and the twins was settled closer to the Rosarian reef, rather than the Northern Coral deep sea. In fact, the home was a coral bed built around a sea cave, apparently a luxurious real estate under the sea! Though, the main appeal was that it was close to a beach on one of the Queendom of Roses’s islands, which you visited to meet with Ace, Deuce, and Grim. 

“Oh, Mama Narissa? Perhaps we can go up to the surface next week when we go out?” You swam into the kitchen together, the meal that Narissa had helped you prepared earlier on the counter. 

“My friends are coming to the beach to visit me, I thought that you might like to meet them?”

Narissa wrinkled her nose, but smiled politely, “I’ve never been a fan of the surface, but I suppose it can’t be helped. I’d love to meet your human friends.”

She clapped her webbed hands, gesturing to the food on the counter as she twirled around in the water. 

“Now, let me show you how to make this dish. The boys loved it as kids, I think you humans called it sushi on the surface. Come one!”

You two had made it home just an hour shy of your husbands’ return. Narissa was diligent in making sure you’d always be able to greet your husbands’ return with sweet words and sweeter kisses. 

And they did enjoy it so, she stayed for 30 minutes to help you finish preparing the supper for the evening, then taking her leave so you could have some alone time for yourself up the remaining 30 minutes. Floyd cooed about having a cute stay at home spouse to come home too, while Jade delighted in the domesticity of it all. 

But between your earlier conversation with Narissa, and the burning need growing in your abdomen, you were yearning for your husbands’ touch and love. 

Narissa noticed before she left, cooing at you like she would a baby. “Oh nuora, are you alright? Maybe go lie down and rest. I’ll send a text to the boys that you’re feeling unwell.”

“Mm, okay…that be…nice…” You clumsy swam past her, clutching to the walls with your hands as she gently grabbed you by the waist. With Narissa as your guide, she helped you lay down on the love seat in the living room. You think she might’ve had a mischievous smile on her lips, but you couldn’t tell as you wearily curled into the cushions to nap. 

You think you could make out her mumble something about ‘babies’ and ‘grandchildren’, but you’d passed out by the time you processed her words. 

The next you woke up, there was a slender hand brushing through your hair, which still retained your color and cut from when you were human. You made out the familiar voices of Jade and Floyd, the latter right above you, as the former sounded like he was in another room. 

“Mmmph, Flooyd? Isss that you?” You murmured, reaching out blindly for Floyd as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Heya, look at my little Shrimpy.” Floyd cooed, sinking down to be face level with you, pushing his forehead against yours. “Mama said you weren’t feeling great. Did you need us?”

Floyd spoke with a baby-voice, nuzzling against you with delight. The scent of salt and lemons, something you’d associated with Floyd, filled your nose as you happily sighed, throwing your arms around his neck to bury your nose against his skin. Floyd made a sound of surprise, though he immediately clutched onto you in response.

“Aw, cute! Hey Jade!” Floyd was giggling as Jade quickly swam back into the room carrying a potion in his hands. His gaze softened, seeing you curled into Floyd’s arms. 

“Oh, look at our sweet pearl.” Jade sighed, smile growing as he watched you pull away from Floyd to open your arms up to him.

“Jaaaade! You’re home too! Give me a kiss~” you weren’t sure when you’d become so blunt and bold. Normally, you’re more reserved, if a bit teasing, with your affections, the twins loved making a game out of who could fluster who first. But right now? You felt…different. 

Your mind felt like it was floating out of your body, watching everything happening from third-person. All of your senses felt more aware, from the sounds of the water currents outside, to the beating of your heart, to the humming of your skin. It was like you were both drunk, high, and yet neither at all. 

None of that mattered, though, not when Jade so sweetly embraced you, the dark markings and freckles on his skin glowing as he teasingly peppered kisses over your flushed cheeks as Floyd did the same to the back of your neck. 

“Aw, why didn’t Shrimpy ask me for a kiss too?” Floyd whined, huffing as you dragged Jade’s lips to yours. He glowed too, pretty like an aurora. He grazed the points of his teeth over your neck, making you whine and shiver. 

“I’m—mmh—sorry, Floyd!” You separated from Jade to tilt your head back, moving one hand to cup Floyd’s cheek. “Kiss! Lemme kiss you!”

Floyd eagerly met your lips with enthusiasm, moving with Jade to sit on the love seat again in his lap, facing Jade.

You hadn’t been intimate since your transformation, so it was slightly embarrassing to be curled into the cushioned shell loveseat, sweaty, lascivious, and sensitive at your husbands’ touches. 

Floyd hummed against your lips as he tangled his long tongue against yours, Jade busy with fluttering your chest and tummy with wet kisses. 

“Darling, look at you, how messy and sweet you look! You’ve missed our touches. You’re craving them, aren’t you?”

Jade chuckled against your belly button, something you kept from being a human, and kissed it. He eyed your tummy, the skin there and the slight translucent sheen to it. 

It wasn’t off-putting, not to them. Why many fish in the sea had see-through skin and muscle, allowing you to see their skeleton and organs. Yours was quite tame compared to those creatures, the rest of your body retaining either a pink or red opaque hue, with only your lower abdomen and stomach having the translucent skin. 

“Of course they have Jade, they’ve gone months without their tummy bein’ filled up.” Floyd purred, moving away from your panting mouth and unfurling his tongue, dragging it down your chest to your navel. “And their body is telling them to breed. Just look at how puffy their slit is getting~”

You whined as both of them moved to direct their heady gaze to your cunt, hot and throbbing for attention. The scales around your slit had been slowly pushed to reveal lips and a clit, trembling under Jade’s hot mouth. Another whine was drawn from your throat, his tongue dragging on the skin around your lips. 

Your entire body felt like it was melting, all the need and heat from this week amounting on top of you like the earth on Atlas’s shoulders. But now? It was all crashing down on you like your body had been waiting for this point. For the touches of your mates along your body, claw tipped fingers just grazing around where your hips and slit were. 

It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t been touched, or touched yourself, in weeks with the confusion of a new body. Though, it seems that the twins were all too happy to help you learn mer anatomy. 

“Jade! Please, I need you to touch me, lick me, drink ‘n eat me up—AH!” You shrilly gasped as he shoved his tongue in your hole, his long tongue rubbing against your walls. You arched your back at the sensation, an intoxicating spike of energy crawling up your spine. Jade drank in your juices, humming as he tapped your g-spot with the tip of his tongue. 

The sensation was quickly becoming like a drug, spiking as Floyd took a long, slow and coveted lick to your clit until he reached the tip of his tongue, flicking it as he drew it away. He giggled at your yelp, staring into your eyes as he started sucking on your clit, suckling like a baby to their mother’s teat. 

And he certainly was sucking the life out of you, keening as you shook from an orgasm that blended into a paralyzing stream of pleasure. 

Yet, you still felt like you were missing something, as the heat in your belly hadn’t dissipated. Rather, it felt like it was getting stronger, begging for something to fill the empty void in you.

So it was helpful that neither twin cared for leaving their meal, waiting for you to either push their heads away, or for them to get bored. You of all people knew that they have a hard time getting bored from things they find interesting, and you were certainly captivating.

Their tongues worked nonstop, Jade tongue-fucking your sweet spots as Floyd made a particularly hard suck to your button, making you buck your hips against his. In fact, they seemed content to just switch places, Jade feeding on your pearl and Floyd pushing his tongue so far in that you’re sure he brushed your cervix. 

Moans and cries freely left your lips, as several smaller orgasms rocked your body. Your chest heaved as you gasped, your gills filling with water. The twins giggled, Jade kissing up your body and Floyd dragging his tongue through your slit. 

“Hmm, Floyd. Look at how needy they are.” Jade melted into your embrace as you wrapped your arms around him, placing wet kisses against his cheeks and lips. “How cute, who knew that they’d get so desperate when in their mating season! No wonder Mother was pushing for us to get home so quickly.” 

Floyd cackled, nuzzling against your chest as he squeezed you against him. “Yeah! No wonder! Do you wanna be filled?”

“Oh, of course they do~” Jade grazed his teeth along your ear, tugging it before letting go to whisper in your ear, “They want to be bred silly! Don’t you, my love? Just ask, and I’ll fill you up over and over again. I’ll fill you up until you’re utterly full, and then eat my cum out of you just to fill you back up again~ Do you like the sound of that—ow, Floyd, that hurts.”

Floyd had reached up to pull at Jade’s strand of hair, a chittering growl reverberating through his chest as he hissed, “Don’t be selfish! They’re my mate too!”

Sleekly, Floyd slid up your body to take his place on your other side, pulling at your chin with his cheek. He let out a high-pitched whine as he did, his words muffling. 

“You want me to fill you up too, right?” Floyd pouted, smacking ticklish kisses to your face and neck. “Floydie will give ya lots of baby Shrimpys! How many do you want? Two? Think we can get three in one go?”

Your body was getting hot again, and you felt empty. There was a desire to be stretched out around your husbands’ dicks.

“Ah, I want—I want,” You cried, moving your hips up, grinding against the water. “I wanna be filled! Both! I wan’ both of you in me!”

Both of them froze and shared a look, their sudden stillness making you feel upset, as you began babbling half-coherent begs and sobs.

“Aw, (Name). Don’t cry.” Floyd shushed you, rubbing his nose against yours as he smiled. “It’s not that we don’t wanna. We really, reeally wanna give you what you want!”

“Mm-hm.” Jade hummed, cupping your cheek as he drew your gaze to him. “Yes, of course we do. But you’re just a bit small, darling.”

Floyd and Jade had always been big, especially in their merforms. And even as a merperson, you didn’t even reach half of their length. There was no question that their dicks would be equally proportional.

“We don’t want to end up breaking you, love.” Jade breathlessly murmured against your ear. Though, from the heady tone of his voice and the grip he had on your hips, you were sure that was a lie. 

“Unless you ask us. Then we’d be happy to.” Floyd cooed into your other ear, hand wandering down to caress your still slick slit, using your juice as lube to rub your clit. “Ask us. We’ll take real good care of ya after, we promise~”

It wasn’t even a question, more a matter of you coughing up your ‘yes’, but your voice was caught in your throat as they resumed their movements. 

Jade took delight in marking up your neck with hickies and suckling your nape, his free hand squeezing your chest and slipping under your cover to pinch your nipple. 

“Ah! I want—fuck!” You gasped as Jade started fondling your chest and suckling from your nipple. “Shit, Jade! Mmh!”

Between his mouth on you, and Floyd whispering sweet, arousing words into your ear, asking you, “don’t you want us to make you feel good? To fill you up?”

Jade hummed in agreement from your chest, tugging it with his teeth before resuming his sucking. You rapidly nodded your head, opening eyes that you didn’t realize were closed. Two gold eyes were watching your expressions. 

Floyd continued being the prettiest devil on your shoulder. “Just say ask. Ask. And say ‘pleeeease’, say ‘Floooyd! Jaaaade! Fuck me pleeeease!’”

Mimicking your voice, Floyd made mean, mocking moans into your ear. You’d be offended if it didn’t make you hot. You’ll fuck him first, then complain later.

A pinch to your clit, and a nibble to your nip, and you were arching and walling, “GAAAH! FLOYD! JADE! FUUUCK ME! PLEEEEASE! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASPLEASEPLEASE—”

You yelped mid beg as Floyd let out his raspy laugh, picking you up in a bridal carry as he zoomed to the bedroom. He’d shoved you into the sheets, adjusting so that your head was hanging off the edge of the soft coral bed. 

The taller twin settled to grind his navel and slit against yours, groaning as his cock was coaxed to slip out to your sticky opening. Jade, gently and firmly guiding your head, pushed his own softening slit to your lips, sighing as you licked around the slit. 

Your own tongue dragged its entire length along Jade’s lips, the salty taste of this slick making your eyes close in bliss. It took but a few more licks for his long cock, green and pink-tipped like a flower, to come out. It followed your tongue and was easily coaxed to thrust into your mouth, prehensile and wrapping around your tongue. 

It was gentle, only thrusting softly into your mouth, until it shuddered around your moaning mouth, Jade groaning from the vibrations. Floyd’s own dick had made its way out, pushing against your tight hole and slowly filling you up. You swear, it took up your entire womb with its size, rapidly thrusting and pushing against your walls with the intent to breed. Floyd seemed unaffected, beaming in delight at your muffled cries and begs as he grinded against your clit. 

“Haah, Jade! Our shrimp’s pussy feels sooo good! It’s so tight and soft.” Floyd took heaving breaths as made out with you messily, groaning and giggling into your mouth. “It’s like they wanna make sure my seed fills them up~”

You cried out, muffled moans filling the air as you tried nodding in agreement. You’d tried answering against Jade’s dick, but only served to further stimulate him. 

“Mmh, and it’s like they want to milk my cock. Greedy, greedy darling. You’re so—hah—lucky we love spoiling you.”

Jade thrusted harder against your mouth, the tip touching the back of your throat, making your gag and choke. Even so, you relaxed and let him face-fuck you with no remorse. It wasn’t like you needed air anymore, not with the gills on your neck.

Besides, it wasn’t Jade fucking your mouth that took the oxygen from your lungs, but way Floyd stretched you out and rubbed his own clit against yours. 

“You feel that? You feel how good you're making me feel? Yeah~” Floyd purred, roughly grinding against you as he breathlessly laughed. “Making me feel all sortsa ways, like I could keep fucking his hole of mine forever~”

One of the first delights you learn before transforming was that, as eelmers, your darling husbands were built with both sets of sex, their slit hiding away their hastily growing cocks and tight openings. You wondered if you could return the favor and eat them out instead, the thought of a trembling Jade and keening Floyd as you feasted utterly delicious. 

“Now Floyd, what did you say earlier?” Jade asked, pushing your hair away from your face as he kept at his meal. “Don’t be selfish! They’re my mate too!”

Jade mimicked Floyd’s pouting tone, mocking his brother with a shit-eating grin as Floyd growled, clawed hands digging into your hips and upper tail to fuck you even harder, making you bounce against the bed and Jade’s dick. 

A particularly rough thrust against your cervix brought you back to the moment, Floyd’s teeth digging into your right shoulder as he suddenly came in you. 

His cum was thick and filling, dripping from your hole from the sheer amount Floyd busted into you. And as Floyd pulled away, you pulled away from Jade and looked down to see inches and inches of his dick leaving your throbbing cunt. You weren’t even sure if you came with him at this point,  all the euphoric bliss you’d been feeling blending in. 

What you were sure of was Floyd’s length still being hard and firm, moving around his hand as he pumped it. That fact that he was still able to keep going made you ravenous as you wiggled your hips at him, hoping that Floyd would keep going. 

You needed to feel fuller. You needed to take up as much cum in you as possible. You needed to be bred like a good little mate. At least until you could return the favor. (You pushed that last thought to the back of your mind, confused as to why your sex-filled brain conjured that.)

“Hey Jade.” Floyd ignored your cranky whines, you’d be filled up again soon anyway. “Switch spots with me. I wanna feel their mouth, besides, our mate is nice and tight, ‘n squeezes you juuust right~”

Floyd giggled, his signature laugh, slinking up your body as Jade snaked down, dragging his hands down your body as he did. Jade was quick to take his spot, his dick slick with his precum and your spot slipping into you with little resistance. 

Both were big, but Floyd was slender and longer, whereas Jade was shorter and much thicker, stretching you out to the point that you were sure you’d be ruined for anyone else. As if you’d ever want anyone else. 

Jade was ever so gentle with you, slowly pushing the tip of his cock as he used Floyd’s cum as lube, his girth filling you up deliciously. You groaned as you felt the cum in you push out of your hole to make room for Jade, until he eventually made it to the hilt. His length was pressing against your walls, swirling in you, as Jade started grinding his slit against you. 

“Damn!” Jade cursed, gasping as he pressed his head against your chest, teething at the skin. “You’re right, Floyd, they feel so tight and soft against me! I could get drunk from your walls, my love~”

Obsessed as he’s always been with your chest, Jade took to occupying his mouth with your chest, back to suckling you like a baby. It was like he was opening for milk to come out and fill his insatiable tongue with your taste. 

“Yeah! Can you imagine how much tighter they’ll be when we both fill them up? Haha! You’ll be begging to have our dicks in ya forever, our cute lil’ shrimp!” 

Floyd, rougher than his brother, pulled at the hair in your scalp, firm but soft, and pushed his dick towards your mouth. He threw his head back, sighing as you took a long, slow lick from the tip of his cock to the base. It trembled against your tongue at the stimulation, surprising as it tried wrapping around the muscle before shoving itself into your mouth. You choked as Floyd began pistoning into your mouth, cackling as little tears dripped from your eyes. 

Between his fast pumps, and Jade’s tortuously slow thrusts, you were slowly being driven insane.

“Ngh, d-did you just cum again?” Jade stuttered, pulling away from your teat with a string of saliva connecting you two. “I felt it…I’m close, you know. Mmmph…Want me to fill you up again my love?”

“Mmmm! Mmmphmm!” You cried against Floyd’s dick, tongue massaging his length as you sucked. You’d managed to keep rolling your hips against Jade, the stinging effects of overstimulation starting to take hold.

“Ha! I think they want it Jade~” Floyd cackled, finally shoving your face against his groin, forcing you to swallow around his dick. “Give it to ‘em, if our shrimp wants us to breed them, then we oughta make them happy~”

A chilling growl left Jade’s mouth as he clenched his teeth into your left shoulder, near the crook of your neck as his prehensile dick pounded into, practically fucking your womb, like it wanted to nestle in and never leave. 

Your tummy felt hot as Jade filled you up, finally moving your head away from Floyd to cough and gasp at the feeling. Managing to lift your head, you saw a bulge on your stomach where Jade was filling you up with his own cum, right along Floyd’s. 

“Aha, I’m so full!” You moaned, giggling deliriously, all thoughts from your head fucked out, as you rubbed the bulge. “It feels so goooood~” 

The heat coursing through your veins has dissipated quite a bit, now a comfortable hum and tingling on your skin instead of an insatiable need to get fucked. You beamed as Jade, still in you, leaned down to kiss you sweetly, his hands cradling your face as he nipped your nose. 

“We’re glad, aren’t we Floyd?” Jade purred, grinning down at you with a hungry look still. You made a noise of confusion as he moved away, rolling to his side. Whimpering as a few inches of his length slid out as he did, but he stopped, keeping most of it in. Looking down, you could make out the pearlescent cum of your husbands leaking out of you, thick and viscous. 

“Hmm, yeah.” Floyd sighed, tracing along your pudgy tummy, briefly squeezing down to watch more cum leak from your hole. “Let’s fill them up even more!”

“Huh?” You pushed yourself up on your elbows, blinking rapidly as Floyd took your otherside and positioned his dick against your still stretched out cunt. 

“You said you wanted both of us in you, right?” Floyd started pushing, long tongue licking over your cheek, down your neck, and slathering over the bite he made. “You wanted both of us at once. We’re giving you what you want.”

Your brain function was still yet to completely return, as you barely managed to process his words at the last second. “Wait, wha—AAAAH!”

Your hands went flying up to their hair as Floyd pushed in against his walls and Jade’s dick, stretching you beyond comprehension. Pulling at their teal strands, you could hear both of them ominously chuckle, Floyd’s hand going back down to your nub as Jade’s lips made their way home to your chest to feed. 

“Fuck! Too much! Too much! Aaaaahahaha!” You gasped, laughing as the heat returned to your belly as your eyes glazed over. “Ooooooh shit! F-floyd, Jaaade…uwwwaaah…”

Throwing your head back, you started letting out open-mouthed moans, blubbering as you started speaking nonsense to your mates. Any coherent thought was yanked from your brain and tossed out like garbage as they started moving in you, lengths pushing up against all your most deliciously sensitive spots, tips hitting your cervix like they were fighting to take up the space in your womb first. 

“Aahaha! Look at you! Fucked stupid~” Floyd lovingly nuzzled against your temple, kissing your forehead as he continued his mean words. “Do ya like it? You gonna cum again? Cum as much as you want~ Only we can make you feel this good~”

Floyd cackled again, bringing your head back up to make out with your drooling mouth, his tongue tangling with yours. 

“Mmm, morays can go for hours you know,” Jade cooed, cheeks flustered and eyes drunk on your body as he flicked your nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Do you want us to keep going? Use you? Make sure our little mate is filled with plenty of seed for their eggs? Do you want to keep getting fucked~”

“Yesh!” You cried, muffled against Floyd’s sloppy kiss. “Fuck me more! I wa-wanna feel your cocks here!”

You placed your hand over your navel, feeling the bumps of their dicks as they pounded against your insides. Pulling away from a whining Floyd, you looked down at your belly, and gasped at the sight. 

You could just barely make out the blue, glowing lines on their dicks as they moved in you, the outline just visible under the transparent skin of your belly. You could even make out the pearly white sheen of their cum filling you up under the skin. The sight shocked you into coming, tossing your head back as you panted for oxygen. 

“Sho good! It feelsh shooo good! Don’t stoooooop~” You were slurring as you bawled your eyes out, shaking as you came once again for the nth time that night. Yet they didn’t stop, not from your overstimulated tears, nor your walls tightening against them.

“Floyd! Jade!” You gasped, your insides feeling raw and like they were burning, finally being pushed past your limits. “W-wait, I can’t…I just…I just came—FUCK!”

Your husbands pulled you up, wrapping their tails around yours and each other to be closer to you, as Jade forced you to look down at your extending belly and their lengths moving in and out. As soon as one slipped out, the other thrusted in, ensuring you were never empty. Unfortunately, as they did, more of their cum was slipping out as well, making Floyd whine. 

“Aw, Jade! Look at how our Shrimpy is wasting our seed!” Floyd pulled on your ear with his sharp teeth, playfully chittering in your ear. 

Jade clicked his tongue in disappointment, bumping his forehead against yours, “How wasteful, we’ll just have to go a few more hours then, to make sure our seed takes. Can you handle it, my love? You can, can’t you?”

You blinked open your eyes, the algae lamp on the nightstand providing a dim blue light to the room. Yawning, you tried stretching your arms, wincing at the pain that shot up from your lower back. 

“Mmh? (Name)? You wanna go again?” you heard Floyd sleepily giggle to himself, spooning against your back as his tail was wrapped around your fins. “Kinda tired, but I’ll go again for my shrimp, hehe~”

You reached a hand over to pinch his nose, grumbling, “Stop it, you know exactly what yawning is.” 

Floyd pouted, digging his head against your back again as he tightened his grip. From your front, Jade groaned at the movement as he nuzzled his head against your chest, arms gripping your midsection and tail tightly wrapped around your hips. At this moment, you were just a body pillow to him. 

“Stop moving…it’s still early…” Jade mumbled into your skin, nipping at it briefly. “...Want to…sleep.”

“Nah, I’m awake now. I wanna eat somethin’, wanna come to the kitchen?” Floyd asked, kissing his bite mark on your shoulder as he did. He untangled himself from you, stretching and wincing from the scratches you made on his shoulders stung.

You tried moving, but felt a cramp in your hips and pelvis as you did. Between that, and Jade’s displeased growl as he tightened his grip, you were trapped. 

“I don’t think I can move…you guys did a number on me.” You were just noticing your entire torso and navel covered in hickies and bruises, the most prominent being the hand marks on your hips. 

“Heh, nice. Oof!” Floyd grunted as you threw a pillow at him. You had half a mind to smother Jade too as you felt him smirk and chuckle into your skin. Unfortunately for you (and fortunately for him), there was a cheery knock at the front door. 

(Or the frame of your front door. Homes under the sea didn’t have doors, though you had a rather intricately designed curtain over the entrance for privacy). 

“I miei figli! It’s been a few weeks now! Can I see mia nuora?”

Since your mating season started, you’d been going at it nearly nonstop with the twins the first week until your libido managed to die down to a more reasonable amount. Granted, at least one of the twins was with you at all hours as they took turns going to work. This week, you’d taken to just resting your incredibly sore body. Nearly 5 days since you were last fucked, and you were still wincing as you swam. 

Unfortunately, Narissa missed you just a bit too much to wait a few more days to see you. 

“Oh my god, Mama Narissa!” You bolted up, Jade grumbling as he let you untangle from his grasp. He settled for grabbing your pillow and shoving his face in it to drink in your scent. “Shit, has it really been weeks?”

“Mm-hm,” Jade hummed, finally opening his eyes to look at you. He was never a morning person, surprisingly, so it took him sometime before he was fully coherent. “You were insatiable the last few weeks…begging to make sure you stayed filled up. I was surprised at how long you lasted between rounds.”

Jade rubbed a hand against your belly, staring at it intently as he slow blinked, ready to fall back asleep at any moment. 

“...It’s twins.” He said, very matter-of-factly. You blinked in confusion, but smiled at the idea.

You covered your hand over his, lacing your fingers together as you shrugged and smiled. “You think? Humans usually have just one, but I’ve also never had a mating season, so I don’t know.” 

“Hm, it is.” 

You blinked again, staring at Jade as he lovingly smiled at the bump on your stomach. Shrugging again, you pushed his bangs back and pressed a kiss to his forehead, making the effort to trudge through the pain and swim out to greet your mother-in-law. You sharply inhaled as you tried straightening your tail, feeling like your muscles were being pulled. 

“Ah!” You hissed, rubbing your lower back as Jade perked, getting up and letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he carried you on his back. 

“Here, I’ll take you.” Jade rubbed his eye, now fairly awake as he blissfully took you through the hallway into the living room, then the kitchen as you heard voices coming from there. 

“It’s been weeks! I just wanna see my nuora too, especially since neither of you have been at work at once for nearly a month!” You could make out Papa Leech’s, Bruno’s, raspy voice from the kitchen. 

“Oh relax, amore mio!” Narissa purred, kissing her husband’s cheeks as he visibly softened. He was stocky, built much like his sons, but much longer and covered in old scars. He was also a darker, muted shade of green, his eyes hazel and hair a familiar shade of black. You could look at Bruno and obviously see the resemblance between his sons and him.

“They’re fine! Look there, they are with Jade now.” Narissa chirped, swimming past Floyd to ruffle his hair as he tossed a scallop in his mouth. “Save some for your mate, Floyd. I’m sure they’re starving. 

Floyd looked offended at the suggestion, replying with a full mouth, “We’ph kefft ‘em fed!”

Narissa scolded him for speaking with a full mouth as Bruno excitedly made his way to you, snatching you from Jade, who made an annoyed hiss, and twirled you around. He squeezed you in a bone-crushing hug as he spoke. 

“There you are! Our family shrimp! Don’t be mad at me now, but you’ve kept the boys plenty busy! I’m gonna need to steal them back, why don’t you and Nari go—”

You yelped as four pairs of arms snatched you back from Bruno’s embrace, a hair-raising growl and clacking of Floyd’s jaws echoing in the kitchen. Floyd was holding you between him and Jade, the latter protectively curled over your stomach as he eyed his own father. 

Bruno looked less than amused, rolling his eyes as he clacked his own pharyngeal jaws in response. 

“Just playing ‘round with mia nuora, what’s wrong with you two?! Hissing at your own father?!” He snapped, briefly looking at Narissa as she turned his face to hers. 

She had a smile on her face, gold eyes locking on Jade’s hands covering you. 

“Amore, you need to be careful with (Name)! Of course, they’re hissing at you, you’re roughhousing with a berried mate!”

Berried?

“W-what? What’s that mean?” You asked, confused as Bruno immediately brightened, rapidly sinking to the ground to be at eye level with your stomach. Narissa gracefully followed, as did your husbands, now relaxed. 

“It means our Shrimpy is gonna have baby Shrimpies.” Floyd giggled as Jade reached up to direct your gaze to your translucent tummy. 

“See, my love? The eggs look like berries.” Jade tapped a finger against your slightly protruding stomach, right where you could make out the sight of two teal colored eggs. 

You gasped, placing your hand over Jade and Floyd’s. Effectively stunned into silence, Bruno had more than enough energy to loudly celebrate for all five of you. 

“WHOOP! NONNINO! I’M GOING TO BE A NONNINO!” Bruno excitedly swam around in circles, twisting and twirling around as Floyd darted to his father’s side, following his dance in happiness.

Jade chuckled, giving his mother a knowing look as they both straightened back up, moving to nip at your ear affectionately. 

“I suppose we should let everyone else know the good news.”

You nodded in a daze, the thought of letting your adoptive parents up on the surface of the news dizzying. 

“Yeah…” You finally smiled, breathlessly laughing into Jade’s shoulder as you reached for Floyd, who immediately met your embrace, nearly knocking you into Jade’s arms in excitement. 

Between the rings on your left-hand ring finger, and the two eggs in your stomach, it was no question: you’re happy to stay in Twisted Wonderland for the rest of your days. 

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[grandisknight]

afternoon treatment | zayne

summary: Zayne follows the "doctor's orders" in order to feel better.

tags: suggestive, established relationship, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), soft zayne, medical kink, 'doctor' kink, kissing, medical procedures (auscultation), medical inaccuracies (in a sense), chest mention, straddling

wc: 2.2k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: relax time affinity 80 with zayne and that one liner he has. that's it, that's the tweet.

Afternoons at Akso Hospital were always the busiest, from routine check-ups to meetings alike. Staff and accompanying patients hustled through the halls and hushed rooms—there was always something happening, and the cardiac surgery department was no different.

Yet, today seemed to offer Zayne some grace and time to reside in the chilled comforts of his workspace. The morning surgery went well, and his next procedure wouldn’t be for another hour or two. 

Therefore, he’s rewarded himself with a simple diagnosis report. The file was lighter in subject, easier to digest in comparison to what was usually on his plate. In his mind, this was a well-fitted solution to kill some time before returning to sterile scrubs and tense operating rooms.

Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks over their exterior when a soft series of familiar knocks reach his door.

“It’s open,” he calls out, rectangular reflection returning to the onscreen data. Without missing a beat and sparing another glance, he adds on, “Weren’t you supposed to visit a No-Hunt Zone today?”

“Finished my observations earlier than expected,” you chirped, pushing the door to a close and striding towards his busy desk. 

Recent reports of Metaflux fluctuations had consumed your bright morning with Herte Knaves running amok. Nothing out of the ordinary from your usual line of work, easily dealt with in a couple of bulleted blows. Their dispersing remains flecked the air in a quiet flurry that reminded you of snowflakes—naturally, your feet led you to the pristine floors of Akso soon thereafter.

Curiously, you sidestep to shadow his focused form, gaze altering between the wall of text and precise clicks of his keys. “Thought you were on break, but it seems like you’re working,” you mumble, in awe of his steady pace. “As always, Dr. Zayne.”

He speaks with an obvious, “Well, I am at work. The call is coming from inside the house.”

“Zayne,” you punctuate. His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, and you cross your arms in turn. “You know what I mean.”

A faint chuckle passes under his breath. “You’re accusing me as if I’m in the wrong.”

He was not, actually—far from it. That goes without saying when you were in the middle of his office, imposing during said work time. But you’ve been in his graces for nearly a year now, and know well enough that it was only around this time in the afternoons would he be able to catch a breather.

You shake your head, putting on your best voice before coming to your defense. “No, but the doctor’s orders require you to take a break.”

This catches his attention, fingers slowing their clicks and chair swiveling to face you head on. Slight confusion quirks his brow, mirroring your folded arms in observation. “And pray tell, who would that be? Last time I checked, only one of us is a certified surgeon in this room.”

Your eyes instinctively dart to his stationed badge, credentials on full display against his chest pocket. He had you beat there, at the very least.

“You may hold a degree for medical hearts,” you start, taking a step into the space of his parted knees and tapping your chest. 

“But I hold the degree to your heart.” Your finger redirects to the meeting point of his neckline, resting above the aforementioned muscle.

“Is that so?” The corners of his lips lift, amused by your display and newfound authority. “I was unaware of such a professional. Surely, I would’ve remembered seeing someone as dedicated as you during my studies.” 

He takes the chance to brush away a strand of hair hugging your cheek, neatly tucking it behind your ear. Gentle appreciation fills his comment of, “Would’ve made them much more enjoyable, too.”

“That’s besides the point.” You wave him off, though it doesn’t fan away the heat blushing your ears, sensing his underlying meaning. 

Returning to your self-presumed role, you nod. “As your dedicated and completely legitimate doctor, I believe you’re showing concerning symptoms.”

Zayne hums, withdrawing his hand. “I’m afraid your assessment is lost on me. What exactly are these symptoms?”

“Well, my patient seems to love working overtime. This can cause unnecessary stress to the body and mind, for one.” 

You lift one knee to bracket his, the other following in suit—Zayne adapts rather quickly, leaning back to give you space as you carefully straddle his waist. His arms naturally circle around you, hands hovering your tailbone to keep you steady.

Neatly settled on top, you continue with your mild lecture of reported observations. “Even though he should be using the precious time in-between work to give himself a well-deserved break, he does the exact opposite.” 

“He is on a break,” Zayne says to his defense. “It’s barely considered heavy work.”

“Doing any kind of work during down-time does not count, mister,” you chide.

You gently tussle his bangs, pushing them to the side and revealing his forehead. Smoothing over the skin above his brow, your eyes searched his expression before noting a shadow of fatigue beneath his lashes. He really was working himself to the bone, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“A dire symptom of a workaholic is when his skin is faring worse than usual,” you exaggerate. “Your eye bags are so prominent they could be checked in at the airport.”

“It’s not that bad,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling at your touch. They flutter to a close when your hand slides to cup his face, thumb brushing the high of his cheekbone in gentle care. “The lighting just makes it seem worse for wear. I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ.” You slowly trail downwards, caressing the side of his neck with a pursed lip. 

His pulse point thrummed nicely against your fingers, and a curious press elicited a low sigh from him. Unexpected, though the sound was music to your ears and had butterflies rampant in your stomach. A part of you wanted to hear more of the gravelly timbre that rarely made an appearance—you knew what needed to be done.

Picking up where you left off, more of your self-declared medical ramblings followed. “See here? Another symptom, such a fast pace surely isn’t for the faint of heart. Your apical pulse,” to which your fingertips lightly drag themselves towards, “can’t lie to me.”

Zayne is breathless by the time he formulates a response in sincerity. “How can we go about a treatment plan, then? It seems pretty serious.”

A slowed, purposeful pronunciation follows soon thereafter. “Doc-tor.”

Your heart skipped not one, but two beats—dangerous, surely, but it fell short in the face of Zayne’s steadfast compliance. He peers up at you, factually smitten and framed softly by the office lights blending the contours of his face. You raise your other hand to hold his fine face between them. Admiring, in awe of all that he was.

“There’s only one known treatment option, I’ll have you know.” Unable to hide your smile, you quickly add, “Might require mouth to mouth if things go south.”

Zayne’s pools of hazel flick to your upturned lips, before meeting your mischievous stare with a hint of his own.

“Is this truly scientifically proven, or did you come all this way just to kiss me?”

“Yes,” was all you offered to his question, before placing an airy kiss to his cupid’s bow. 

A second found its way to the bridge of his nose, laid over the slight ridge you adore before another rested between his raised brows. His eyes flutter to a close when your lips gently pressed to his temple, stilling at the contact. Slowly, you leave a trail of love across his cheeks, pausing once you meet the corner of his mouth.

Your thumb brushes against his lower lip, smiling at the way he parts them so readily for you. His chin tilts in the direction of your touch, mouthing the chase. A flush of pink sinked into his skin, a perfect peach for you to sink your teeth into.

“Tell me,” you say softly. Your fingers curl underneath his chin, observing the lidded gaze that follows. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

A tender exhale pushes past those very lips. “Right here,” he quietly admits. Closing the distance until you were only a breath away, his eyes focused on the plush of your mouth. “Please, Doctor.”

The union was gentle and warm, a kiss so kind that the same sentiment blossomed in your chest. Traces of a sweetened coffee picked from the hospital’s cafeteria and warm amber from his collar consumed your senses.

Zayne held you closer, chest to his and enveloping in a tender embrace. His hands traced the curve of your back, following your spine to gently cradle your head. Just to keep you this close, he was restless—realizing that he needed this more than he thought. The smile that cracks through another kiss is a testament to it, sealed with a deep breath of contentment.

It was perfect, a moment in time where your thundering heartbeats were equally matched. The world was nothing but a witness to the seconds spent in meaningful lip-locking.

“Mmph,” you groan unceremoniously. 

Something firm brushed against your brow, pulling you out of the sweet trance. The culprit looked back at you in its silver rimmed and glass glory, sliding down the bridge of Zayne’s nose.

“Hm?” He leans back, noticing your discomfort. “What’s the matter?” 

You contemplate on telling him, partially distracted by the puff of his lower lip. It has a sheen of your affection, and you were sure you looked no different in his eyes.

“Your glasses are falling,” you admit. You reach for the frames, intending on pushing them back to the high of his nose.

Zayne pauses your wrist then, a warm mirth in his gaze. “These are in the way, are they not?” He guides your hand, allowing the glasses to depart from his face and settling it on his desk. 

With or without the specs, he truly was handsome—the kind of beauty modeled in Greek busts, from the contours of his cheeks to the sharp angle of his brow bone. You’d have to thank his parents the next time you see them.

He sneaks in a kiss, no longer obscured by the barrier and face perfectly pressed to yours. “My Doctor seems to be distracted,” he comments, taking in your wandering gaze. A cool hand graces the crowd of your head, patting softly. “What are you planning this time?”

His touches brought you out of your daydreaming, and you nod. Hands settling on the curves of his shoulders, you slide them upwards with a murmur of, “I should check your apical pulse again.”

Your eyes wander to the space behind him, a stethoscope only a grab away. With some effort, you spare a hand to reach for it, rising from the chair to a degree. 

Zayne noticeably stiffens at his newfound view—your chest in his face wasn’t something on his agenda for today. The breath in his throat hitches, recognizing your fragrance. Comforting and pleasant, a piece of home warmly enhanced by your skin.

By the time you successfully have the medical device in hand, you nearly drop it at the feeling of his nose digging into your chest. 

“Zayne? You’re—mmh?!” His hands find their way to your midsection, holding you still as he inhales deeply. You only hear him hum between muffled fabric, and your mind dizzies at the heatwave the mere sound sends to your core.

He pulls back with a soft sigh, the peach of his skin notably deepened to a soft rouge. Zayne guides you back to sit proper in his lap, reaching for the stethoscope in your surprised hand. Carefully, he places the ear tips into place for you and brushes your hair back in the process. Nonchalant, as if he didn’t spend the last waking moments happily buried in your chest.

“If you’re checking my pulse for me, I hope you’ve read the hospital’s code of conduct.” He drops his hands then, patiently awaiting your auscultation. In the reflection of his coy stare, you find that your own blush is faring far, far worse than his.

“Right, right. I did, trust me,” you say in confidence.

You, in fact, did no such thing. But memory of past appointments guides your hand over his heart, chest piece sliding around to count the beats. Not a single count was missed, all perfectly in place and accounted for.

Though, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming. It didn’t help that his eyes were entirely focused on you, pointed with affection and observation alike.

“Well?” Zayne hums. “How does it sound?”

“You have a heart, and it’s beating alright.” Your conclusion was far from exemplary, but at least it was the truth.

“That’s a relief,” he laughs quietly. He gently removes the stethoscope, setting it aside. “Realistically, this isn’t how an auscultation works.”

“My methods are just special, that’s all.” You shrug, lightly patting the space that protects the aforementioned organ. “But you seem to be feeling better, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Mhm.” Zayne presses a kiss to your nose, and offers his gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor. I don’t know what I would do without your care.”

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: merry early christmas guys to those who celebrate 🥹 series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Christmas is coming up soon. In about two-ish weeks, give or take. In this case, you’re giving. It’s December 14th, and the days are passing by too fast for your liking. You wish you had more time—to do a lot of things, actually. Luckily, with your rent being paid along with next month’s, that’s given you at least some sort of freedom. 

You can thank your ex for that. 

So, you’ve been saving for Koji, spending less on yourself. Not like you did much of that in the first place, but still. Again, guilt riddles your insides, insecurities plaguing your mind. Koji has never been a spoiled kid, having grown up quite frugally because of his equally frugal mother. Your tree, something you bargained for at the nearby spot in town that sells trees for the holiday season, is bottom of the barrel. Of course it is, you bargained for it. Sparse areas, branches way too thin and tiny, the height of the entire thing is just about as tall as you are. You keep your box of Christmas decorations so you never have to buy new ones each year. The lights you use are a warm yellow, with a few little bulbs dark because they burnt out. It wraps around your tree in a very messy way—Koji’s doing. A floppy white star placed at the very top of your tree, just barely holding on. 

Little pieces of decorations hang from the frail branches: some snowflakes, red and blue balls (Koji said they looked like Spider-Man), and your most favorite one of them all that sits at the top: a picture of you and Koji from a photo booth two years ago. He was only three and you could still carry him then. Chubby cheekbones on display, a wide smile to match. You two are wearing Santa hats, head tilting into his with an equally ecstatic smile. You can’t look too long at it before you start getting emotional. 

So mom of you. 

Anywho, your point is that while the setup may look dull and even unattractive to most, you still find warmth in it. So does your little boy too. Although he doesn’t exactly know better, considering all you’ve ever had was skinny trees and years-old decorations, he doesn’t complain. 

Of course, he does ask you sometimes about why the trees in the movies look different or why his friends have entirely decorated houses and you two don’t. You bottle it up to a simple, “Well, we’re not like other people, baby.”

He understands—most of the time. 

Even so, he doesn’t show disrespect. As long as he spends time with you, getting even just three gifts, it’s all enough for him. So you feel guilty for not giving him the full Christmas experience a child should get, you feel insecure that other people are having the holiday season so much better than you are, and if you could, you’d do anything to ensure Koji has a real Christmas one time. At least once. It’s the least you can do as his mother, and it’s the least he deserves. 

Because the holidays are meant for happiness, cheeriness, and family time. All things that feel very forced for you right now. 

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

Your lips purse, hoping it resembles a smile. But Shoko always reads you easily, dissecting your emotions. “You too, how have you been?”

“As good as I can. Late nights, exhausted, seeing someone’s leg split in half. You know, the usual.”

A small chuckle falls from you, nodding in silence. “I’m glad you were able to do what you want. ER work, right?”

“Yep,” Shoko hums, leaning back against the bench, coffee in hand. “Though I did have a friend who helped me get through it all so quickly.”

“Really? Who?”

“Cheating.” She smirks behind the rim of her cup. 

Your eyes roll, sighing as you mimic her posture. It feels odd seeing her again for the first time after so many years. You gathered the courage to text her number, feeling distraught and overwhelmed last night. Right after you sent the text asking her to meet up the next morning, you slightly regretted it. Does she think I’m weird? What if she says no? God, what is wrong with me?

Your doubts were proved wrong when she replied with a simple “See you”. Simplicity was always Shoko’s thing. Something that you almost envied from the woman. You wish you had composure like her. Of course, her life isn’t exactly simple considering she’s dealing with people with broken anything and blood all the time, but you can tell she thoroughly enjoys it. She finds pleasure in her job. 

Again, this is something you’re also slightly envious of. 

“So….” She finally says after a beat of silence, turning her head over at you. “I want to ask the obvious, but I think I’ll wait. I want to see how you’re doing first.”

You worry your lip between your teeth, peering down at your fiddling fingers. The words are a little hard to get out, and a little embarrassing too. You don’t really want to vent to her after years of no contact, but it’s hard not to. At this point, you’re like a broken dam. Spilling and spilling by the minute until you completely break down. “Things could be better. I just have a lot on my mind and what I’m dealing with.”

She nods in understanding. “Like the articles and stuff?”

You sigh heavily in exhaustion, raising two fingers to rub the space between your brows. “Yeah, that’s one of them. You seen ‘em?”

“Many people have.”

Of course. “I just don’t get it. Why is it such a big deal he has a son no one knew about? Are these kinds of ‘issues’ really that important to rich people like him? Like, c’mon. It’s not like he killed a man. He has a son but everyone’s treating and acting like this is horrendous and astounding news that we should be fearful of.”

Shoko tilts her head, her gaze steady but not intrusive. “Rich people thrive on spectacle, you know that. Every little thing becomes a headline, especially when someone like Gojo, Japan’s sexiest man alive of 2024, is involved. He’s a household name, Y/N.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. You forgot the fact that he’s been given that title. The article popped up on your Google just yesterday, giving in and tapping on it. The first picture that greets you is a very intimate, black-and-white picture of Satoru shirtless, with unbelted pants. He wasn’t looking at the camera in that one, but the way his arms were raised, accentuating his biceps made you feel a tiny throb. The first of many from that photoshoot the article included. “But why does it have to be this? Why is it such a scandal that he has a kid? Like, what are they even expecting from us? An apology? A press conference where we swear to never let it happen again?”

Shoko’s smirk is faint but wry. “You think logic applies here? The higher the pedestal, the harsher the fall. Gojo’s not just rich—he’s Gojo. Untouchable, perfect, untamed. Add a secret kid to the mix, and it’s like handing tabloids their golden ticket.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “It’s so stupid. They’re acting like we’re some corrupt dynasty with skeletons bursting out of the closet. It’s not even a big deal!”

Shoko takes a sip of her drink, watching you with a calmness that somehow makes you feel seen. “It’s not a big deal to us, no. But to them? It’s betrayal, gossip, leverage—anything but what it really is. Just life.”

Her words settle in your chest, a grounding sort of clarity that you hadn’t realized you needed. You couldn’t—probably ever—understand the thought process of the elites of Japan. You’re a bit glad that you won’t. But in this situation, you just wish they would think like normal fucking people for one second. That’s hard to do when you grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth and everything at your fingertips. You peer over at her, your lips pressing together as you process everything. “I just…I don’t want Koji dragged into this. He doesn’t deserve it. That’s one of the main reasons why I kept everything a secret in the first place. But now look at us, everything has just changed so…so fast. I’m not ready for it, neither is my son.”

She lets the quiet air linger for a moment, your venting finding placement. “No, he doesn’t deserve it,” Shoko agrees. Her tone is firm, an anchor in the storm of your thoughts. “And neither do you. But the way I see it, you’ve got two choices: let them dictate how this plays out, or take control of the narrative yourself.” Her words linger, the weight of them grounding and unsettling all at once. Taking control of the narrative sounds easy in theory, but the reality feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, the wind threatening to knock you over.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter.

Shoko shrugs, but there’s an edge of reassurance in her expression. “True, but you’ve already been through worse. You’ve got more strength in you than you give yourself credit for. And if anyone can handle this mess, it’s you.”

Her confidence in you feels foreign but comforting. You nod slowly, gripping onto her words like a lifeline. “Thanks, Shoko.”

“Anytime.” She raises her cup slightly in a mock toast, her smile small but sincere. A beat flows through, a comfortable silence. The two of you watch the snow cover the ground with its beauty, the sun barely peeking through the cloudy, muted sky. You can’t help but draw the parallel. The sun, peeking, but hidden behind the heavy clouds, yet still present—trying, despite the odds. That’s you, isn’t it? Not gone, not entirely defeated, but dulled. Struggling to shine through the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Shoko breaks the silence with a soft chuckle. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Quiet, too. Almost makes you forget the world’s still a mess.”

You nod, your gaze following the gentle swirl of snowflakes. “Yeah… It’s like everything’s paused for a moment. Peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoes, leaning back in her seat. “Funny how something so fleeting can feel so permanent in the moment.” Her expression stirs something inside you—a quiet ache you’ve been trying to suppress. You glance at her, lips parting, but the words get stuck in your throat. She doesn’t push, doesn’t probe. Shoko’s always been good at giving space without making it feel like a void. Instead, she takes a long sip of her drink and says, “You know, snow’s a great equalizer. Covers up the mess, and makes everything look the same. Like the world gets a second chance. It’s the start of something new.”

Those words make you immediately remember Satoru’s. Snow’s the start of something new. That should be a good thing, right? You should be glad. However, how many more changes have to happen until something good comes your way? There’s only so much one can go through in such a short amount of time.  But as Shoko said, you have more strength than you think. You’ve been through worse. And while that may be true, at this fleeting moment, that couldn’t be any further from the truth. It’s easy for her to say since she’s not actually living your life. 

You haven’t exactly talked talked to Satoru yet about all this, about what he’ll say, what his parents will do. But they probably have good lawyers, right? Maybe they’ll put out a statement that any further harassment will be met with legal action. Or he’ll take pride in his son and show no regrets. You really don’t know. Your optimistic side wishes that Satoru will deal with this smoothly and how you want him to. But your pessimistic side says this will continue on until who knows how long. People randomly coming up to you, making remarks on social media, finding your job, finding your own social media accounts that you’ve had to take down.

Seriously, why the fuck do they care so much? Even after Shoko’s explanation, it’s still not enough for you. At the end of the day, we’re all human, we all do human things. Jesus Christ, you could never last a day in Satoru’s position. On constant public display and scrutiny, it’s exhausting and infuriating. 

Satoru’s taken Koji off your hands for the while. It’s around four in the evening now. Although you were hesitant at first, he assured you he would do his absolute best to make sure nothing wrong happens and that he stays safe. And besides, it’s nice to have the place to yourself for a few hours. It’s confusing, because while at times you feel so defeatedly lonely, other times you welcome it with open arms. 

But every parent probably feels like that, right? Praising the day they get even two hours to themselves, not worrying about making sure your child isn’t choking. 

Anywho, you’ve taken the liberty to take a nice and warm refreshing bath. The heat does wonders to your skin, sighing wistfully and eyes closing in relaxation. The warmth envelops you like a comforting embrace, melting away the tension you didn’t realize had settled in your shoulders. It’s rare, these moments of solitude—where the only sound is the faint ripple of water as you shift slightly in the tub. You sink deeper, letting the heat seep into your muscles, as if the bath could wash away not just the stress of parenting but the heaviness of everything else weighing on you.

You tilt your head back against the rim of the tub, exhaling a deep sigh. It’s strange how quiet the apartment feels without Koji’s laughter or even Satoru’s voice filling the space. Strange, but not unwelcome. For once, there’s no background noise, no constant buzz of responsibility. Just you and the stillness. You almost wish you can share this stillness with someone else, but throw that thought out your mind fast. 

Your fingers trail through the water absentmindedly, thoughts wandering. You wonder what Satoru and Koji are up to—probably indulging in some sugary snack you’d never approve of at this hour of the day because Koji’s sugar rushes just last so long. The image makes you smile faintly. Despite everything, Satoru’s been trying. And even if you don’t say it aloud, you notice. He’s been so good with him, the two are incredibly close and it’s like the past five years of absence never existed. You always knew Satoru was that type of man. He got along with kids well, children almost seemed to magically gravitate towards him. It’s…very attractive. 

Once the bathwater starts to cool, you decide to reluctantly push yourself upright. Wrapping a towel around yourself. You pad into the bedroom, the cold air nipping at your damp skin. With Koji gone until probably around eight or nine, the silence settles over you once again. You glance at the clock on the nightstand—still hours to go before they return. You grab a soft blanket and curl up on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly. Nothing really holds your attention, but it feels nice just to sit, undisturbed. As you take a sip of tea, you can’t help but think: Maybe you should let yourself enjoy these moments more.

It’s hard, but you should probably make more of an effort to take care of yourself. If you’re out of it, you’ll be unfit to care for Koji. And that’s your biggest nightmare ever. You blankly watch whatever show is playing after turning the TV on, but your mind seems much more louder than the voices from the characters on screen. You wish you could just shut off the constant worry, stressing, and overthinking about pretty much everything in your life. 

Before you know it, your feet are guiding you back up, leading you down the hallway and to your room. The closet is to your left, a single door with a small lightbulb overhead that weakly shines its light and illuminates the inside. Your clothes hung up, shoes on the floor. Some of Koji’s old toys lay next to your shoes, having meant to donate them but never getting around to it. You go down to your knees, moving further inside the small closet. Having to push a few jackets to the side for better visibility, moving your shoes out the way. Stuffed in the very corner of your closet lies a worn black box. When you pull it out from its hiding spot, the lightbulb makes visible faint letters that are threatening to peel away. 

Cheap markers. 

There’s little dribbles of flowers and smiley faces along the sides, a stick figure image of a boy and girl. The boy’s eyes are drawn with the brightest blue marker you both found out the time. It’s a little shitty representation, but the boy’s line for an arm is connected to the girl’s arm; holding hands.  

OUR WORLD

Something you both agreed was cheesy, though you thought of it. He wrote it. You had the ideas, he made them come to life. 

Your breath catches as you brush your fingers over the worn box. The faded decorations are a time capsule—a reflection of a simpler, yet complicated past. A mix of laughter, innocence, and heartbreak lingers on its surface, as if the box itself holds memories you’ve long since buried. You hesitate for a moment, thumb tracing over the stick figures. The blue-eyed boy. The girl with a faint red-lipped smile. The images were so carelessly drawn back then, yet they now carry an almost painful clarity. A reminder of what once was—and what could never quite be again. Sliding the top off the box, you’re immediately greeted by the faint scent of old paper and something else merely nostalgic. Photographs, letters, and random trinkets fill the space. A keychain, an old movie ticket stub, and at the very top, a small folded note with handwriting you recognize instantly.  

"To my favorite person,  

No matter where life takes us, remember this moment, okay? This one is ours."

His handwriting feels more impactful than you thought it would. Your chest tightens as you unfold the note fully, memories flooding back with each word. Satoru had written this. Back when things were different—when the two of you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. When promises felt unbreakable and the future seemed...possible.  

You carefully place the note back into the box, your hands trembling slightly. There’s so much in this little box that you’ve avoided for years. So much of what you were, who you were, with him. And now, it feels like the box is staring back at you, asking the question you’ve avoided for so long.  

What are you going to do with all of this?  

Why have you kept this? After all the time? You remember telling yourself the day of your break up that you’d throw everything out—burn it all. But everytime you even touched it, you came to a brutal realization. You can’t. For some reason, you couldn’t get rid of it, couldn’t bring harm to this reminder of the lives you’ve lived and left behind.

You found comfort in the idea that one day in the future, you would be able to. But you also found comfort in the box itself. Oh how wrong you were. And that fact twists at your heart, your blood wringing out in the process. Leaving you with a dull and soulless shell. Staring down at the remnants, going through them—everytime. Maybe you haven’t ever had the strength to get rid of it, you wonder if you ever will. 

Pictures of your younger self, of Satoru’s younger self smile up at you like they’re taunting you. As if the past can sense the future’s despair. They’re simple pictures, cute but simple. Just how you two wanted it. The quality isn’t that great, considering most of them were taken on shitty disposable cameras. 

“Because it’s sustainable!” You argued when Satoru questioned the device when you first pulled it out. He simply scoffed and rolled his eyes, lips upturning into a smile the second you readied the device for a photo.

A picture is worth a thousand words. 

Whoever came up with that phrase is a genius, but you also despise how much truth is held to that single sentence. Pain. Nostalgia. Longing. Happiness. Regret?

Flipping through the small pictures is like going through your very own time capsule. Each snapshot carries a story, a moment frozen in time that feels both distant and heartbreakingly close. The childish doodles lining the box seem to echo your younger self’s voice, innocent and untouched by the weight of reality. A photo catches your eye—a little blurry but unmistakably Satoru, grinning with his arms slung lazily over your shoulders. Your cheeks in the picture are flushed, and you can almost hear the laughter that must’ve been spilling from your lips when it was taken.

Then there’s another, of the two of you sitting under a sprawling tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves. His hand rests on yours, casual but intimate in a way that makes your chest ache now. You remember the warmth of that day, the way he’d joked about how your hair glowed in the light.

There’s a card, too, nestled beneath the pictures. The corners are slightly bent, but the words inside are still intact. His handwriting is unmistakable, bold and messy:

“To the girl who makes my world brighter every day. Don’t ever stop smiling—it’s my favorite thing about you. Love, Satoru.”

“Hah, I didn’t know you were such a poet.” You teased. 

“Ugh, shut up.”

Your fingers trace over the ink, your breath halting. Time may have passed, and life may have twisted and turned, but this box feels like a portal to a version of you that still believed in endless possibilities. And yet, the ache in your chest doesn’t falter. Instead, it lingers, a reminder of how much has changed—and how much you wish hadn’t.

The final picture is one that almost tears at you. A silly one that you would’ve never imagined would push at your heart like a heavy door stuck in the way of your own contentment. You’re kissing him, the side profile of your two faces as you indulge in each other's lips. Satoru’s free arm slightly out of frame since he’s the one holding the camera high. You both are holding your left hands up, showing off your Ring Pops on each of your ring fingers. His red, yours blue.

“Let’s pose like a couple who just got married!”

You sighed. “Satoru….”

Written on the white border frame of the photo are the words:

She said yes!! 

A melancholic laugh escapes you, tears hitting the picture. It’s colors are already slightly altered from previous wetness. Your chest feels tight, eyes closing with a sinking stomach. Why do you always do this to yourself when you’re already feeling upset? Why are you still so affected by it? Will it get better with time? But how much more time?

You gasp and flinch when the front door is rung, eyes widening as you swiftly and messily put the contents back in, sliding the top back on and stuffing the box in its hiding spot once more. After closing the door, you walk down the hall and to the peephole. Your brows furrow. “Satoru?” You ask as you open the door. Confusion hits you, seeing your sleeping son in his father’s arms. Koji’s backpack slid on top of Satoru’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Um…dropping Koji off?” He replies back like it’s the obvious, his own pale eyebrows knitting as he regards you. “…Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Shit. “I’m not,” your hands raise to your cheeks, wiping any trace of your previous emotional breakdown, swiftly denying his words. “I thought you were coming back later.”

“It is later, Y/N.” He frowns and steps in, allowing you a better view of the dark night sky. 

What the hell? Since when did it get dark? Slowly, you close and lock the door, blinking rapidly as you try to gather your bearings. Just how long were you on the couch for? How long were you reminiscing? Turning around, you see Satoru come out from Koji’s room.

“Put him down, showered and dressed him already. Little man played a lot today.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say. You lean against the door for a moment, trying to regain your composure. Satoru’s words feel oddly domestic, almost like you’re living a life you’ve long since moved on from dreaming about—or tried to.

He sets Koji’s backpack down by the couch, brushing invisible dust off his sleeves as he glances your way. “You sure you’re okay?” His voice softens now, genuine. Concerned.

You force a small smile, crossing your arms. “I’m fine. Just…lost track of time, I guess.”

Satoru studies you, his crystalline eyes searching your face like he doesn’t quite believe you. He shrugs lightly, though, not wanting to push. “Alright. Koji was great today. Took him to that park he keeps talking about. Got some ice cream. He wore me out.” His lips quirk into a small grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thanks for doing that,” you say softly, glancing toward Koji’s room. “He loves spending time with you. He always talks to me about your guys’ missions.”

“Hah, yeah, well…” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, leaning his tall frame casually against the wall. “I love spending time with him, too. And you know, it’s not just for him.” His words are light, but there’s a weight behind them, one you’re not sure you’re ready to unpack tonight. You don’t know what he really means by that, but it’s probably best that you don’t. You’d look into it too much. And like he said, you’re already complicating things even more by almost kissing him the other day. 

You nod, your throat tightening as you look anywhere but at him. “I should probably check on him. Make sure he’s really asleep.”

“Y/N.” His voice stops you in your tracks.

You turn slowly, meeting his gaze. “What?” you ask, your voice smaller than you intended.

He hesitates for a moment, his brows furrowing as though he’s deciding whether or not to say what’s on his mind. Finally, he sighs and steps closer. “If something’s bothering you…you can talk to me. You know that, right? You look like you’re crying and I—”

Your heart clenches, the sincerity in his voice almost too much to bear. “I know,” you manage to cut him off, your voice sharper than you had wanted it to be.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. Then, Satoru clears his throat and steps back. “Alright. Guess I’ll head out, then. Call me if you need anything.” You hum, watching as he heads for the door. Just before he leaves, he pauses, glancing back at you one last time. His eyes linger for a second longer than they should, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

And you’re left alone again, the weight of the evening settling back over you like a familiar, unwelcome blanket. You want to scold yourself for losing track of time so easily, letting yourself get lost for such a long time. He probably thinks something’s wrong, and while you appreciate him being mature and overall cordial enough to offer his ear, you don’t want to give him that. It’s embarrassing and almost too vulnerable for you right now to vent to your ex. 

You know that saying that the last thing or person you think about before you fall asleep is what you’ll dream of? He stares at the door, trying to will himself into stopping his train of thought, but the vision of you won’t leave. Not tonight. Maybe it’s the nagging scent of your clothes he can still smell, or maybe it’s the way you looked so raw, so unguarded. Maybe it’s the promise he made to himself years ago to never let you go, to never let you fall apart without him. Now look where he is.

Satoru’s mind is a whirlwind as he steps back into the cold, dark air of his penthouse, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality he wasn’t quite ready for. He should’ve left things simple, right? Drop off Koji, make sure everything’s okay, and then go. But of course, he couldn’t help himself. He had to ask, had to reach for that sliver of connection that still seemed to remain between the two of you, even after all this time. Or maybe he’s not reaching, he’s just being a good person. Or maybe there is no sliver of connection at all.

He rubs his face with one hand as he walks down the hall, his thoughts staying on your expression, the tightness in your smile, the way you tried so hard to hide whatever was eating at you. Your red eyes that seemed glossy enough to tell him what you had been doing before he arrived. He should’ve pushed, should’ve stayed longer, but something told him it wasn’t the right time. Also, not to mention the fact that he’s not entitled to know anymore, and he shouldn’t want to. He wishes he could forget—wishes it wasn’t so easy for him to still care about you after everything you’ve put him through.

Still, his mind can’t stop replaying the way you looked tonight, like you were holding back—like you were on the edge of something he couldn’t reach. And now, that’s the last image he sees before closing his eyes: you, standing there, fragile but strong, trying to put on a brave face when he knew you were anything but okay. 

He slides into his bed, sinking into the comforting mattress. Stop thinking about it, he tells himself. Just go to sleep.

But it's useless. The thought of you doesn't leave him. It never does in times like this. But that's the thing, isn't it? He always cared. Always would. Any good man would

As the awaited sleep stretches on, his mind drifts back to those moments—the way you wiped your face quickly when he mentioned the tears. How you didn’t let him in. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this.

Before he knows it, he feels the weight of his own exhaustion, the pull of sleep starting to take over. He lets his eyes stay shut. Stretching out on the bed, his thoughts blurring into a fizzle. The room is quiet, too quiet. But just like that, he’s falling and falling into a realm where the weight of everything else disappears.

The first thing he sees startles him. It’s just you, standing in front of him again, your eyes locked with his. 

You’re both staring at one another before it’s like someone slowly raising the light switches. Sun peeking through the blinds of the kitchen you two stand in as you place a hand down to your stomach. When his eyes follow it, he then notices the rounded swell that’s visible from beneath the dress you wear. 

“Hey, you’re awake.”

You giggle, voice smooth and inviting, stepping closer to him until you can reach his hand, intertwining your fingers. 

Yep, definitely a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. 

“I made you breakfast, your favorite.” You guide his hand to your bump, chuckling softly. “But baby here was getting hungry, so we may have gotten a little taste test before.”

Satoru’s heart skips a beat, his fingers instinctively brushing over your rounded stomach as you guide them there. The warmth of your skin under his touch feels real, too real, and his mind stumbles, trying to make sense of the situation. The room around you starts to feel like a glimpse into an alternative universe. Soft, golden light spilling in through the blinds, the smell of something warm and inviting persisting in the air. It’s almost too perfect, too serene to be real. And yet, he’s standing here, his breath caught in his throat as his fingers rest against the gentle curve of your belly. The weight of it, the life growing inside you, sends a quiet thrill through him.

You giggle, the sound of it so familiar it makes his chest ache. It’s like nothing has changed. Like you’re the same as you’ve always been, only…this time, things are different. There’s a quiet tenderness in the air that wasn’t there before. He swallows, trying to fight the growing confusion in his chest. “I—I don’t understand,” he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the small, soft swell of your stomach. He knows it’s not real, but it doesn’t stop his brain from wandering into beliefs of if it were. “How… how are we here?”

Your smile widens, that knowing glimmer in your eyes that makes his chest tighten with something he can’t name. “We’re here because this is where we belong,” you say simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. You nudge his hand a little lower, guiding him to feel the tiny movement beneath his palm, the small shift of life inside you.

It’s then that the weight of the moment hits him all at once, his heart thumping in his chest. The quiet reality of what you’ve built together, the life you’ve shared, and everything that could’ve been. He’s overwhelmed, caught between longing and disbelief. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again. “Is this what you wanted? What we wanted?”

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his chest, your fingers still entwined with his. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. What we have always wanted. Stop acting weird.” Your words are a balm, soothing yet laced with something deeper, something that speaks to both of your hearts, even if this is fake.

In this moment, everything feels right. It feels like you’re back to where you both belong.

Satoru stays still for a moment, the warmth of your forehead pressed against him, your fingers gently intertwining with his. The softness of the moment seems to wrap around him, the image of you—here, with him—so perfect that it almost hurts. The softness of your touch, the way your body feels against his as you stand close, it’s like he’s been starved of this connection for so long. A quiet ache settles deep within him, but it’s not the hurt he’s used to. No, this is something else—something far more complicated.

He shifts slightly, his gaze never leaving yours as you lift your head. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel this again,” he admits, his voice low and tentative. The vulnerability in his tone catches him off guard, but it feels natural, like you’ve always been the one person he could let his guard down with. “You and…us. Everything that’s happened.”

You hum softly, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. The smile on your lips is small but full of quiet understanding. “I know, Satoru,” you say, your voice steady, like you’ve been carrying this weight for far longer than he ever realized. “But this…” You glance down at your stomach before meeting his eyes again, “This is what we fought for. This is what we still have.”

He feels the truth of your words settle into him, but it’s a bittersweet sensation, one that pulls at something deep inside of him. It’s almost too good to be true, this version of reality, and he can’t help but wonder why his mind has conjured up this visualization—this perfect picture of you and him, together in a way he never thought possible.

“But what if we don’t get it right?” he asks quietly, his brow furrowing in uncertainty. “What if we’re too broken to fix it? We’ve made so many mistakes…”

You place a gentle finger against his lips, silencing him before he can spiral further. “We’ve always been broken, Satoru,” you say softly, “But we’ve always found our way back to each other. And that’s enough. Right?”

The way you say it, so sure of yourself, sends a warmth through his chest. It’s a peace he didn’t think he would ever have again. His heart beats a little faster, a little steadier, as he finally lets go of the lingering doubts, the fear of what’s beyond this moment. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the weight in his chest. “I don’t know what’s next, but for now… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes soften, and for a moment, he sees it—the connection between you two, unbroken, unshakable. Even in the midst of everything that’s happened, the messy past and the uncertainty of the future, he realizes that some things are worth fighting for. “This is enough for me,” you whisper, closing the distance between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s gentle, but it carries everything—everything he’s been wanting to say, everything he’s been longing to hear.

And god, the way your pretty lips feel against his is heavenly. It’s strong and long-lasting. Hand to your cheek as his head tilts to deepen it, feeling your warm breath enter his mouth like a soft pull. He’s tempted to dance his tongue along your own.

As you pull away, he feels a quiet peace settle over him. The dream, though fleeting, has given him something he didn’t know he needed. A glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they can find their way back to each other for good.

But the atmosphere darkens, like putting a blanket over a lamp. Your own eyes dulling into something he saw before he left you tonight, something he’s been seeing everytime he visits you. Your smile dropping into a placid emotion. Satoru’s heart stutters in his chest, the warmth of the moment slipping away like sand between his fingers. The light around you seems to fade, the world losing its softness and vibrancy. A chill washes over him, creeping through his veins like ice water. Your smile, once so gentle and inviting, disappears into something far more distant, as if a part of you has shut down completely. The joy that had filled the air vanishes, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence that wraps itself around both of you. His eyes widen in confusion, and he takes a step back, searching your face for any hint of explanation. He feels the air shift into a freezing temperature.

"What—?" He stops himself, his words catching in his throat, trying to make sense of the drastic shift in the atmosphere. The way your hand falls to your side feels like a finality, as though the reality he had just witnessed—of you, of the hope in your eyes—was nothing more than a simple illusion.

The weight of the silence presses down on him, smothering. His gaze moves down, and that's when he realizes the baby bump has vanished. There’s nothing there. The roundness, the warmth, the promise of new life—gone. In its place, there's only the smooth curve of your stomach, flat and unchanged.

"Y/N?" His voice cracks on your name, disoriented and desperate for some kind of explanation. "What happened? What…what’s going on?"

But you don’t answer right away. Instead, you look at him like you’ve seen a stranger, a shift in your eyes that only deepens the growing pit in his stomach. Your gaze is cold, distant, almost as if you've already resigned yourself to something. Satoru swallows hard, his hand instinctively reaching for you, but when his fingers brush against your arm, it feels like the connection is completely severed. "What’s wrong? Talk to me," he pleads, his voice raw and filled with confusion. 

You take a slow, deliberate step back, the air between you two growing heavier. "Satoru," you say, but your voice sounds far too calm, far too final. "This is the reality, isn't it? This is what it always was—always will be. A dream. A fantasy."

His mind races, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, this isn’t a fantasy! We—we had a chance. You and me, and Koji…and the other…We were—" His throat tightens, unable to finish his sentence.

But you cut him off, the finality in your words sinking deep. "You left, Satoru. You just wanted us to end, didn’t you? It’s why you didn’t fight for me the day we broke up—fight for us. You made me make that promise. You left, and that’s what this is now. A memory. The past. Something we’ll never, ever get back.”

The words land like a blow to his chest, sharp and cutting. His chest tightens as he searches your face, willing for you to show him that this is just another moment in the dream—that the warmth would come back, that the hope would return. But your eyes are cold. The distance between you feels insurmountable.

He opens his mouth to speak, to argue, to fix whatever it is that's wrong—but nothing comes out. The truth is, he doesn’t know how to fix this. Not anymore. Not when everything between you feels so broken, like fragments of a life he no longer knows how to put together. 

And just like that, the warmth of the dream fades completely, leaving him in the cold, dark reality of what’s been lost.

“I wish I kept Koji from you. I wish you weren’t his father.”

Satoru startles awake, jolting upright in his bed. He feels like he’s just been splashed with ice cold water, in a way, he has. Raising his hands to his temples, face scrunching in discomfort. He’s breathing fast and hard, heart feeling like it’ll just pop right out. His hands trembling. 

The sounds of birds tweeting a song is what he hears next. The morning light filters softly through the curtains, but it feels blinding to him, harsh against the remnants of the nightmare. His chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath shallow and frantic, his heart still racing as he fights to steady himself. The words you spoke echo in his mind, sharp and cutting. I wish I kept Koji from you. I wish you weren’t his father. The pain in those words, the hurt, is still so vivid in his memory. 

Satoru places his hands on the sides of his face, trying to ground himself. His fingers dig into his skin, as if the physical pressure could somehow push away the remnants of the dream, make it vanish. But it lingers. It hangs heavy in the air, suffocating him. Why did you say that? Why did you feel that way? Do you actually feel that way in real life? Are you planning to take Koji and run away with him again? Did you seriously regret having a child with him?

He inhales deeply, his breath shaky, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. The sound of birds chirping in the distance serves as a reminder that the world continues to move outside of his turmoil, but it only makes him feel more disconnected. He pushes the blankets off of him and swings his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. His mind races, trying to make sense of what he’s feeling. That dream—it wasn’t just a nightmare. It felt like a warning, a reminder of how fragile everything has been, how much he’s lost. How much he’s failed.

The promise.

The weight of what’s happened between you two settles heavily on his shoulders. And it makes him feel cautious—scared that you’ll do what you said you wouldn’t, all over again. 

Satoru stands, his body still trembling slightly, and walks toward the window. He peers outside, letting the light touch his face, even if it’s almost too bright for him right now. It’s peaceful outside, the world as it always is in the morning: calm, serene, untouched. But his own mind is a storm, and no amount of sunlight seems to clear the clouds. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream, the guilt gnawing at him. The idea of you saying that you wished you’d kept Koji from him—the thought cuts deeper than he’s willing to admit. What does that mean for the future? 

What does it mean for him?

Satoru feels his heart aching with the need to fix things, to understand if you actually feel that way. But he's left in the quiet chaos of his own mind, unsure of where to begin. And that's the worst part: not knowing where to start.

Whatever, it was just a dream. Dreams aren’t real. Don’t think too much into it. 

A text message pings, causing him to look over. The sight of your name forms a twisting feeling to reside in his core, frowning. It’s like when you dream about your significant other cheating on you, so the next morning you’re a little mad at them for no reason. But this time, he’s not sure if it’s for no reason. 

Maybe you actually feel like this, feeling regret for not keeping Koji from him any longer. You’ve obviously shown to be good at keeping secrets, so who’s to say you’re not still doing that. He grabs his phone, clicking on your message and pushing down the resentment that continues to bloom once more. 

Y/N:

Hey, have u had any luck with the leaker? 

Satoru sighs heavily, eyes closing momentarily before opening them back up and typing you back. He can’t help the shortness in his response. 

Satoru:

No 

Y/N:

Pls let me know of any changes

He doesn’t bother replying, tossing his phone on his bed and getting up and ready for the day. Of course the thought of the identity of who leaked the photo has been running rampant in his mind day in and day out. But he just woke up from a particularly scary nightmare—or a message?—and he doesn’t need his mind overwhelmed anymore than it is right now. 

As he goes through his morning routine, Satoru can’t shake the consistent unease. The nightmare, your text, and the weight of everything that’s been happening swirl in his mind like a storm he can’t escape. He brushes his teeth with more force than necessary, gripping the sink as the toothpaste foam spills over his lips. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, his pale blue eyes duller than usual, rimmed with exhaustion.

He can’t stop wondering—what if there’s truth to his nightmare? What if you do regret letting him into Koji’s life? The thought gnaws at him, a relentless ache in his chest.  

The leak complicates things even further. Someone out there—someone close enough to know—exposed him and Koji to the world. The conversation with his mother plays again internally. Someone close or possibly a business partner. But what if she’s wrong? What if it’s someone who’s not close, but still smart enough? And while it’s caused a media frenzy, he knows the real damage is more personal. It’s the wedge it’s driving between him and you. The accusations, the whispers, the uncertainty—it’s all feeding into the growing gap he’s been struggling to bridge.  

He pulls on a shirt, his movements jerky as his frustration builds. He hasn’t been able to sleep properly for days either, his mind consumed by the mystery of the leak and the uneasy tension between you two. It’s not like you’re outright hostile, but there’s something there—something distant, guarded. And now, after the dream, he can’t stop replaying the worst-case scenarios in his head.   

The atmosphere in the room is cold, tense—calculating. Out of the four people situated inside, none speak. Just looking at one another in silent scrutiny. Yamato and Akane are sitting side by side, seated across from them are another married couple. 

Kenji and Emi Nakamura. 

Kenji and Emi Nakamura exude the quiet confidence of people used to wielding power. Kenji’s sharp suit is impeccably tailored, his posture straight and commanding, while Emi, poised in a sleek dress, sits with her legs crossed, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Despite their calm appearances, their sharp gazes and the slight twitch of Kenji’s jaw betray their impatience.

Yamato leans back in his chair, his arms crossed, his eyes cold and unwavering as they meet Kenji’s. Akane, seated next to him, is the picture of composed elegance, but the slight tap of her heel against the floor reveals her tension. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until finally, Kenji speaks, his voice smooth but laced with thinly veiled irritation. 

“So,” he begins, his piercing eyes flickering between Yamato and Akane. “Are we going to dance around the issue all day, or will one of you have the decency to explain how this... mess...got out and why the man who’s dating our daughter suddenly has a secret son?” 

Yamato doesn’t flinch. He lets the accusation hang in the air for a moment before responding, his tone measured. “We don’t deal in leaks, Kenji. And we certainly wouldn’t jeopardize our own family’s reputation for... what? A scandal? That’s more your style.”

Kenji’s expression hardens, and Emi places a delicate hand on his arm, a subtle but firm reminder to keep his temper in check. She smiles politely, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s not turn this into a blame game. We’re all here because this leak affects all of us—your family, ours, Satoru’s and Himari’s.” 

Akane’s lips twitch into a faint, humorless smile. “Don’t patronize us, Emi. You and I both know you’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this. You’ve always wanted to see Satoru fall from grace.”

Emi raises an eyebrow, her smile unfaltering. “I want what’s best for our families, Akane. A public scandal doesn’t benefit anyone, least of all Gojo or the Nakamura name. Besides, our daughter quite loves your son.” 

Kenji leans forward, his hands clasped together on the table. “Let’s cut the theatrics. Who is responsible?” 

Akane’s heel stops tapping, and she fixes Kenji with a sharp look. “We’re working on it. Our investigators are thorough, and they’ll uncover the source soon enough.”

Kenji’s eyes narrow. “They’d better. Because the last thing the Nakamura name needs is a public scandal about a conniving young man and our innocent daughter. She’s already receiving enough scrutiny as it is.”

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch, but Yamato remains unmoved. His voice, low and steady, cuts through the silence. “And if we discover the leak came from your side, Kenji? Are you prepared to deal with the consequences?” The two men lock eyes, a silent battle of wills, while their wives sit in their respective corners, poised like chess queens ready to strike. The room may be quiet, but the unspoken threats linger in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“We’d never do something like this, especially if it affects our daughter.” Emi replies firmly. She tilts her chin up slightly, an air of indignation radiating from her as her perfectly manicured hand rests on her husband’s arm. “You should know better than to accuse us of such underhanded behavior, Yamato.”

Yamato’s wife leans forward slightly, her tone equally sharp. “And you should know better than to express such hostility towards us. Tenka Couture benefits more from Gojo Group than vice versa.”

Emi’s smile tightens, her composure threatening to crack. “Why, of course. We’re just saying, Himari has nothing to gain from this mess. If anything, she’s a victim of it. The constant media scrutiny, the endless whispers. How do you think that’s been affecting her?”

Kenji slams his hand on the table, the sound reverberating through the room. “Enough. This isn’t about Himari. This is about finding the truth. If your investigators are as thorough as you claim, then we’d better find answers—and soon.”

Yamato meets Kenji’s glare with a calm intensity. “Rest assured, we will. But until then, I suggest you keep your own people in check. If we find out this was an attempt to sabotage Satoru—or worse, hurt him—there will be consequences. You know that better than anyone.”

Kenji leans back, his jaw tight, as Emi places another calming hand on his shoulder. “We don’t want this to escalate any further,” she says, her voice softer now but no less firm. “For everyone’s sake, let’s handle this with discretion.”

Akane glances at Yamato, smoothing down the front of her skirt. “We agree. But let’s make one thing clear—if the Nakamuras are involved in any way, there will be no forgiveness. Not from us, and not from Satoru.”

Kenji sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Of course, we understand. But again, we are in no way involved with this leak. With the revelation of this…boy, it messes up everything. Himari and Satoru are a couple. They’re supposed to represent unity between our families and companies, a partnership that benefits both sides. This child complicates that narrative. It puts everything we’ve worked for at risk.”

Yamato’s eyes narrow, his sharp gaze cutting through Kenji’s words. “We understand, yes. But at the end of the day, Satoru is our son, this boy is…well he’s a part of our family now. Your concern seems to be more about appearances than the actual implications for Satoru’s life or the boy’s well-being, but I understand that. My wife and I too are concerned with the way this sudden news could somehow stain our reputation.”

Kenji leans forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, his expression taut. “Appearances are everything in this world, Yamato. You know that. If this story continues to spread, the consequences won’t just affect Satoru or Himari—they’ll ripple through both of our families. Investors, business partners, the media—they all thrive on scandal, and we can’t afford to give them fuel. They’ll begin to wonder what else we’re keeping a secret.”

“Himari and Satoru’s relationship isn’t as stable as you think it is,” Akane counters, her tone measured but resolute. “This revelation didn’t create the cracks; it only exposed them. Maybe it’s time you and your daughter accept that.”

Emi bristles at Akane’s insinuation, her voice cold but precise. “You underestimate my daughter’s strength. Himari has always handled challenges with grace. She and Satoru will navigate this together—if you and your family stop meddling.”

Yamato cuts in, his expression calm. “Let’s not pretend this is solely about Satoru and Himari. The Nakamuras have as much to lose as we do. But let me remind you, Kenji, that this child—Koji—isn’t just a complication. He’s Satoru’s son, and that makes him family. As the adults in this situation, we also hold a certain level of accountability as for keeping this child away from public eye.”

Kenji’s jaw tightens, his composure threatening to crack. “Family or not, this boy’s existence jeopardizes everything. Himari has been nothing but supportive of Satoru, and she doesn’t deserve to be overshadowed by a damned secret from his past.”

Akane’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. “Supportive, or opportunistic? Don’t confuse loyalty with convenience. If Himari truly cared for Satoru, she’d understand that his son isn’t just a ‘secret’—he’s part of who he is now.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Akane’s words lingering. Kenji finally stands, his movements deliberate. “We’ll see how this plays out. But if you think we’ll let the Nakamura name be tarnished by this… situation, you’re mistaken.”

Yamato rises as well, his eyes locking with Kenji’s in an unspoken challenge. “And if you think we’ll allow anyone—anyone—to undermine Satoru or the Gojo legacy, you’re equally mistaken. The truth will come out, Kenji. Be prepared for it.”

With that, the couple turns and leave, their exit leaving the Gojos in a cloud of tension and unease. Akane finally speaks, her voice low but firm. “Remind me again why we are pushing through with this arrangement. The Gojo Group hardly needs Tenka Couture. We’re more than capable of standing on our own.”

Yamato exhales, running a hand through his silver hair. “It’s not about needing them, Akane. It’s about the influence. The Nakamuras have deep connections in sectors we’ve been trying to expand into—fashion, entertainment, international markets. Aligning with them strengthens our position globally. We settled this years ago, okay?”

Akane crosses her arms, her expression skeptical. “At what cost? Their arrogance alone is enough to make me question this. And let’s not even get started on Himari. She might be poised on the outside, but she lacks the fortitude to handle Satoru’s world. She clings to the spotlight, but she’s not ready for the shadows.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens. “You’re not wrong, but this arrangement was never meant to hinge on her ability to ‘handle’ Satoru. It’s a strategic move, not a personal one. I thought you understood that.”

“Strategic?” Akane’s voice rises slightly, her composed exterior slipping. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t just a business deal anymore. There’s a child involved now—your grandson. And yet, we’re expected to sideline him for the sake of appearances?”

Yamato’s gaze hardens, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. “The boy is not being sidelined. But if this situation spirals out of control, it won’t just be Satoru’s name dragged through the mud—it’ll be Koji’s, too. I’m trying to protect all of them. As much as I dislike this situation and as much as I do not care for getting to know this boy, at the end of the day he’s connected to us.”

Akane steps closer, her voice softening but losing none of its edge. “And how do you expect to protect Koji by tying Satoru to someone who doesn’t have the heart to care for him? Because that’s what you’re doing, Yamato. You’re forcing a partnership that benefits no one but the Nakamuras. I’ve told you this from the start that it won’t do us good. There are plenty of other people we can contact that won’t involve forcing our son into an arranged marriage.”

For a moment, Yamato doesn’t respond. His broad shoulders sag just slightly, the weight of the conversation settling over him. “This isn’t about what’s ideal, Akane. It’s about what’s necessary. And until we find another way to stabilize this situation, the arrangement stands.”

Akane shakes her head, turning away. “Necessary, huh? Tell me, Yamato—when did we start sacrificing our son for necessity?”

Her words hover in the air as she walks out of the room, leaving Yamato standing alone, the tension thick and suffocating. He glances out the window, the city lights reflecting in his cold blue eyes. “Sometimes,” he murmurs to himself, “family is the sacrifice.”

Kenji and Emi sit in the back of the blacked out Escalade. One visibly more angry than the other. The assistant up front hands Kenji an IPad. “Here, sir.”

Kenji takes it without a word, scrolling. On the screen, a plethora of all the personal information regarding the woman who caused all this. 

You. 

Kenji’s grip tightens on the iPad as his sharp eyes scan the screen, each line of information making his jaw clench harder. Birthdate, address, financial records, employment history—it’s all there. How pathetic. Every detail meticulously laid out like a blueprint of your life. Beside him, Emi glances over, her expression less angered and more calculating.

“So,” she finally says, her tone icy and deliberate. “This is her.”

Kenji doesn’t reply immediately, his focus locked on the screen. An ID picture accompanied the words. The photo of you, Satoru, and Koji catches his attention, and his lips press into a thin line. The leaked photo. “The audacity,” he mutters. “She hides this little punk tyke for years, and now she’s a problem we’re forced to deal with. They both are.”

Emi tilts her head, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against her armrest. “She doesn’t look like much. Hardly someone who should be causing this much of a stir. But appearances can be deceiving.” Her lips curl into a faint sneer. “Especially for women like her.”

“She’s more than just a stir. She’s a maddening, infuriating liability with baggage from hell,” Kenji snaps, handing the iPad back to his assistant with a flick of his wrist. “The kind that could ruin everything if we’re not careful because they themselves have nothing to lose.”

The assistant clears his throat nervously from the front seat. “Sir, should I proceed with the next steps?”

Kenji leans back in his seat, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Not yet. I want to understand her first. How she operates. What she values. Everyone has a weakness. Once we find hers, we’ll decide the next course of action. Though, I assume it’s the ragged infant.”

Emi raises an eyebrow, her tone almost teasing. “You sound like you’re preparing for war.”

Kenji’s gaze flickers to his wife, his expression unreadable. “Aren’t we?”

The tension in the car is palpable, the low hum of the engine the only sound as they drive through the city. Emi’s lips curve into a faint smile, though her eyes remain cold. “She won’t win, Kenji. Not against us. Not against our sweet baby girl.”

“She won’t even get the chance,” Kenji replies, his voice hard and certain. “We’ll make sure of it.”

a/n: this is my present to u all!!!! happy holidays! ❤️❤️

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