#the situation is a guy with a secret family

[reveryfics]

hiii first of all love love love ur writing <3

all ive been thinking abt is the rest of the thunderbolts discovering bucky’s long-time boyfriend or meeting him for the first time on accident after they’ve always kept their relationship private from media and such. would be down to see reader as either another established hero or just a regular guy.

no pressure though!! write what u want to write, i love reading it no matter what :) just think it would be a silly situation to showcase their found family aspects as a group.

A Secret What?

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Summary: You and Bucky had been in a clandestine relationship for years, a pact forged long before his congressional career began. Your agreement was simple: keep your private lives entirely separate from your professional ones. But a minor misunderstanding recently exposed your secret to Bucky's new team.

A/N: I absolutely love the "secret partner" trope and Bucky is like the perfect person for it too. Decided to take it a step further with reader being Bucky's husband cause I don't do that enough. Can you guys guess the ship I referenced along with something comic Canon?

TW: Secret husband - Fluff - Found Family - Super soldier reader

You'd known James Buchanan Barnes for what felt like an eternity, his presence a constant thread woven through the tapestry of your life. He was, unequivocally, the catalyst for your return to humanity. The very reason you'd managed to reclaim your shattered soul and repurpose the deadly skills honed by the brutal Russian super-soldier program, transforming them into a force for good. He was the anchor that pulled you back from the brink, guiding you away from the cold, ruthless assassin you'd been trained to be and towards a life of purpose and connection. It was because of him that you stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him and Sam Wilson as part of the original Avengers, fighting to protect a world that had once only seen you as a weapon.

But then came Thanos. The snap that ripped half of all life from existence also tore him from your side, leaving an aching void that echoed the emptiness you’d fought so hard to escape. Five long years stretched before you, each day a stark reminder of his absence. Five years without the man who had become your grounding force, your quiet confidant, your unwavering support. And it was in that agonizing span of time, amidst the desolate silence, that a profound realization blossomed. He wasn't just a part of the found family you both yearned for and had been denied. He was everything. He was the missing piece you hadn't known you were searching for, the unwavering light in your darkest moments. When he finally returned, a living miracle stepping back into your world, you made sure he knew the depth of your feelings, the boundless love that had grown in the years of his absence.

A silent, mutual agreement had formed between you, an unspoken pact to keep your relationship fiercely private, completely separate from the demanding and public lives you both led. Your careers as former Avengers, and his eventual foray into politics, necessitated discretion. Not even Sam, your closest friend and a man who saw everything, was privy to the intimate truth. This secrecy often led to frustrating, yet sometimes darkly amusing, encounters. Zemo, with his uncanny ability to ferret out vulnerabilities, seemed to delight in purposefully crossing lines, his hands lingering a moment too long, his comments laced with thinly veiled innuendo whenever you were near. He knew, with a perverse certainty, that it bothered Bucky, a tangible prick of annoyance in his usually composed demeanor. It infuriated Bucky that he couldn't publicly stake his claim, couldn't silence the suggestive remarks, but you both understood the necessity of the secret. Your love was too precious, too personal, to be a public spectacle.

Even as Bucky’s star rose in the political arena, eventually leading him to become a congressman, your relationship remained a carefully guarded secret. Four years into your deep, unwavering commitment, even your marriage remained known only to a select few. Sam and his family, who had become your own chosen kin, and the judge who officiated your quiet ceremony were the only witnesses to that sacred vow. It was a testament to your bond, a private celebration of a love that transcended the chaos of your public lives.

And now, after being away while Bucky and his new team navigated the perilous depths of The Void, you were finally home. Reunited once more, the warmth of his presence a balm to your weary soul. Yet, despite the years, despite the shared history, the private vows, and the undeniable love that permeated your every interaction, nobody, absolutely nobody in the wider world, knew that you were, in fact, the husband of James Buchanan Barnes.

The dim light of the new Avengers Tower kitchen barely illuminated the space, casting long, dancing shadows around you and Bucky. Your back was pressed against the countertop, the sturdy surface a familiar anchor. Bucky, a comforting weight, had you utterly captive, his strong hands gently cupping your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin beneath your shirt. Your own hands, still slightly sore from your recent solo mission, hung loosely around his neck, fingers occasionally brushing against the soft hairs at his nape. You’d only returned yesterday, a day filled with debriefs and the jarring shift back to some semblance of normalcy, but already the familiar intimacy of his presence was a balm to your weary soul.

You murmured, your voice a low rumble, your eyes narrowed playfully as you looked at him, "You could've called me, you know." The words were edged with feigned exasperation, though a true concern hummed beneath them. "I would've come and helped, no matter what it was. And now Sam's trying to sue you? Seriously, Buck?"

He let out a long, slow sigh, a warm breath ghosting across your skin as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing lightly against your pulse point. You could feel the slight tension in his shoulders, a subtle indication of the stress he'd been under. He knew this conversation was coming, knew you'd be this way the second you walked through the door. But even with the impending lecture, he'd missed every second of this quiet, undeniable connection.

"I know, I know," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your throat. "But we both know you aren't exactly on Valentina's good side right now. Getting involved would have just complicated things for you, and for us." He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes earnest. "Besides," he added, a hint of his old charm flickering in their depths, "I'll talk with Sam. We'll figure this out, like we always do."

You let out a long sigh, a sound that was half exasperation, half affection. "You know, Barnes," you began, your voice softening as you looked up at him, "you're going to start giving me gray hairs. I swear, every time I turn around, there's some new catastrophe you've decided to tackle solo." You leaned into his touch, trying to subtly shift the conversation away from the legal troubles and dangerous missions, back to the comfortable intimacy you both craved.

Bucky's chest rumbled against yours, a deep, throaty laugh that resonated through you as he straightened up fully, still keeping your hips cradled in his hands. He then rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your face. "Oh, I don't know about that," he teased, a playful glint in his blue eyes. "I could've sworn I noticed a few new ones already, even before this whole mess."

You opened your mouth to retort, a playful insult about his own salt-and-pepper hair already forming on your tongue, but the words were stolen from you. Bucky's lips were on yours, soft yet firm, his beard scruff a familiar friction against your own burgeoning stubble. The kiss deepened quickly, a silent conversation of longing and relief, erasing the stress of missions and legal battles.

The kiss was everything you’d been missing, a silent testament to the undeniable pull between you. It was slow at first, a gentle reacquaintance, then it deepened, becoming hungrier, more desperate. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as his hands slid from your hips, tracing a path up your sides, finally settling on your back, pressing you flush against him. The faint scent of gunpowder and the clean, metallic tang that always seemed to cling to him after a mission filled your senses, a familiar and oddly comforting aroma.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, your lips swollen and tingling, Bucky's eyes were dark with a familiar intensity. A soft sigh escaped him as he leaned his forehead against yours once more, his breath mingling with yours. "God, I missed you," he whispered, the raw honesty in his voice a direct hit to your chest. His thumb stroked your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine. "Every damn second."

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of him, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the otherwise still kitchen. "I missed you too, Buck," you confessed, your voice a little shaky. "More than words can say." The weight of your unspoken fears, the lingering anxiety from his recent ordeal in The Void, began to dissipate, replaced by the comforting reality of his presence.

He chuckled softly, a low rumble against your ear. "Good thing we don't need words, then." He pulled back just enough to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now, about those gray hairs..."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Hey! You started it. And I'm pretty sure I've earned a few more with all the stunts you pull."

He just grinned, a genuine, untroubled smile that made your heart ache with fondness. "Maybe we can work on fixing that." He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to your temple, a silent promise hanging in the air. The world outside the kitchen, with its congressional duties, its lawsuits, and its ever-present threats, could wait. For now, there was just this: the quiet comfort of his arms, the familiar rhythm of your breaths, and the profound, unbreakable connection that bound you both together.

Bucky's grin widened, a playful challenge in his eyes, as he suddenly scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. With surprising ease, he lifted you onto the cool countertop, settling you there with a soft thud. Before you could even register the shift, he was pressing in close again, his body a warm, solid presence against yours. His lips found yours once more, the kiss immediate and hungry, deepening with a raw intensity that left you breathless. His hands, now firm and possessive, tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him, while your fingers tangled deeper in the soft hair at his nape, tugging lightly.

The kiss grew more urgent, a silent conversation of longing and pent-up desire. Bucky's hands began to slip beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as his calloused fingers grazed your skin. The heat between you was palpable, a delicious inferno that threatened to consume everything else.

Then, just as the moment reached its peak, a distinctly loud "ding!" echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen. It was the unmistakable sound of the elevator doors opening. Both of you froze, pulling apart just enough to turn your heads towards the noise. Standing there, framed in the doorway, were the wide-eyed, utterly shocked faces of Bucky's new team. A collective gasp, followed by a stunned silence, filled the air, effectively shattering the intimate bubble you and Bucky had been wrapped in.

You watched, mortified, as John Walker, with a surprising amount of paternal instinct, immediately reached over and clapped a hand firmly over Bob's eyes, effectively shielding the newest member of the team from the impromptu kitchen-counter embrace. The rest of the team stood frozen, a mix of wide-eyed shock and barely suppressed amusement on their faces.

"We were just... uh... he was... I mean, I was just..." Bucky stammered, his usual smooth cadence replaced by a flurry of incoherent mumbles. You, equally flustered, managed to get out a high-pitched, "Just talking! We were just talking!" before practically tumbling off the counter. You landed with a soft thud, immediately cursing under your breath. Your face was a furious, deep red, heat radiating from your ears.

Your mind, which moments before had been consumed by Bucky's touch, now snapped into painfully sharp focus. These were Bucky's new colleagues, people you'd only ever heard about in passing, save for Walker. And now, their first impression of you was... this. The realization that they were all acutely aware of what was possibly going on between you and Bucky, an intimacy you'd painstakingly kept hidden for years, sent a fresh wave of mortification washing over you.

"I can... explain?" Bucky mumbled again, though it sounded less like a statement and more like a bewildered question directed at the room, as if he himself wasn't entirely sure what explanation he could offer. He turned to look at you, his own cheeks flushed, watching as your hand instinctively went to your left ring finger, fidgeting nervously with the simple gold band of your wedding ring. The very ring that was meant to be a secret.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the frantic beating of your own heart. Walker, still dutifully shielding Bob's eyes, cleared his throat, a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the hushed kitchen. "Right. Well. We were just... looking for the coffee maker. Long night." Your voice was strained, a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to inject normalcy into the wildly abnormal situation.

You shot Bucky a desperate look, your eyes silently pleading for him to fix this. The simple gold band on your finger suddenly felt like a beacon, screaming your secret to the assembled team. You quickly dropped your hand, trying to casually tuck it behind your back, as if that would somehow make the fidgeting, and the ring itself, disappear from their collective memory.

Bucky, catching your distress, finally seemed to snap out of his daze. He took a small step forward, away from the counter and the incriminating position you'd both been in. "Yeah, uh, exactly. Coffee. We were just... discussing... the... optimal brewing temperature," he offered, the words tumbling out in a rush. He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. "You know, for peak... flavor extraction." His gaze flickered back to you, a helpless, almost apologetic expression in his eyes, still lingering on your now-hidden left hand. He knew exactly what you were worried about.

A nervous cough rippled through the team. One of them, a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes you vaguely remembered as being a tactical analyst, finally broke the spell. "Of course, Congressman Barnes. Very important. Wouldn't want to… under-extract the flavor." Her voice was carefully neutral, but the corners of her lips twitched betrayingly.

"Right," Bucky repeated, looking utterly adrift. The effortless control he usually exerted, whether on the battlefield or in a congressional hearing, had completely evaporated. The secret, the one you'd both guarded so fiercely, felt perilously close to spilling out, all because of an ill-timed elevator ride and a moment of forgotten caution.

Walker finally peeled his hand away from Bob's eyes, the younger man blinking rapidly, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks. Without a word, Walker was the first to move, pulling out a stool at the sleek counter island and settling onto it, seemingly unfazed by the awkward tableau. He then glanced between you and Bucky, a dry, almost weary smirk playing on his lips. "Well, at least I'm not the only guy around here who's into men," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, his eyes briefly flicking to Bob, who was now all smiles as he slid onto the stool beside Walker.

You cocked an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Of all the people to make that remark, you hadn't expected John Walker, though then again, the man could never really keep his mouth shut. Bucky, still looking like a deer in headlights, just stared at Walker, his mouth slightly agape.

It was Yelena Belova who broke the stunned silence that followed Walker's comment. She stepped forward, her expression unreadable as always, but her voice held an unusual softness. "I may not understand the complexities of relationships, both romantic or sexual," she stated, her gaze sweeping over both you and Bucky. "But I am glad to see James has someone in his life." She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "He is less... angsty... when he is not alone."

A ripple of quiet snickers went through the team, and even Bucky couldn't help but crack a small, embarrassed smile. The tension in the room, which had been thick enough to cut with a vibranium knife, finally began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of bewildered but undeniable acceptance.

Ava, ever the pragmatist, was the next to pull up a stool at the island, followed by Alexi, whose usual demeanor was somehow even softer by a curious grin. Soon, the entire team was gathered around, a semi-circle of bewildered yet undeniably supportive faces. The tension from moments ago had completely evaporated, replaced by an almost palpable sense of camaraderie.

"So," Ava began, a knowing look in her eyes as she glanced between you and Bucky, "how long has this been going on?"

Before you or Bucky could stammer out another inadequate answer, Alexi chimed in, leaning forward conspiratorially. "And who made the first move? I'm betting it was Barnes. He's always been a smooth talker."

Bob, bless his heart, piped up with an earnest, wide-eyed question. "Wait, so are you guys like... dating? Like, boyfriend-boyfriend?" He looked between you and Bucky, genuinely trying to piece together the scene he’d just witnessed. His questions were so innocent, so bluntly obvious, that they almost felt like a relief after the earlier mortification. He just wanted to understand, and his simple curiosity was strangely endearing.

You found yourself laughing, a genuine, unburdened sound that surprised even yourself. Bucky, too, let out a relieved chuckle, the deep rumble vibrating through the counter. The questions came thick and fast then, a delightful barrage of curiosity and good-natured teasing. They wanted to know everything: how you met, who was messier, what you liked to do for fun.

In that moment, looking at these incredibly diverse, damaged, and yet ultimately good people, a profound warmth spread through you. It reminded you so much of the found family you and Bucky shared with Sam, Sarah, and her kids. These people, Bucky's new team, were just like that. They were kindred spirits, broken in their own ways, yet fiercely loyal and accepting. There was no judgment, no pretense, just an open curiosity and a surprising, immediate embrace of your relationship. They were family, in the truest sense of the word, accepting you and Bucky without a second thought. It was a rare and beautiful thing, and in the fluorescent glow of the Avengers Tower kitchen, it felt like coming home all over again.

Bucky, surprisingly, was the first to regain his composure, a small, endearing blush still high on his cheekbones. He cleared his throat, a nervous habit you knew well. "Actually," he began, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at you, "he was the one who made the first move."

Yelena immediately snapped her fingers, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face as she turned to John. "Ha! You owe me money, John. I told you he wasn't brave enough."

John groaned, digging into his pocket with a sigh. "Fine, fine. But I'm still surprised. Barnes, you always seemed like the type to charge in headfirst."

Bucky just chuckled, shaking his head. The earlier embarrassment was fading, replaced by a quiet confidence. He then took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over his team, before settling on you. Your heart fluttered, knowing what was coming next.

"Alright, listen up," Bucky said, his voice gaining a touch of its usual authority. "To clarify for everyone... we're not just 'dating' or 'boyfriend-boyfriend,' Bob. We're actually husbands."

A stunned silence fell over the kitchen once more, even thicker than before. Then, a cacophony erupted. John immediately started bickering with Yelena about the terms of their bet, his voice rising in exasperation. Bob, bless him, continued his innocent line of questioning, now trying to understand the intricacies of same-sex marriage with the earnestness of a golden retriever. "So, like, do you both wear rings? Who proposed? Is it legal everywhere now?" Alexi joined in, though with more worldly curiosity, asking about the ceremony itself and how they'd managed to keep it under wraps. Amidst the cheerful chaos, you realized Ava had, at some point, discreetly slipped out of the kitchen, likely to give you all some space or perhaps just to avoid the sudden burst of personal information.

You leaned back against the counter, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the lingering heat from Bucky's touch. This was everything you had secretly yearned for. A family that embraced you both without question, a chance to finally stop keeping your husband a secret from everyone outside your tiny, carefully curated circle. This new team, with their unexpected acceptance and genuine curiosity, offered a freedom you hadn't dared to fully hope for.

Bucky found your hand under the counter, his fingers lacing with yours, a silent acknowledgment of the beautiful chaos unfolding around you. Neither of you would have traded this moment for anything else. Not for all the quiet solitude in the world, not for the carefully constructed secrecy you had maintained for so long. Because in this noisy, accepting kitchen, surrounded by these wonderfully eccentric people, you finally felt like you were truly home.

[hxneyfarm]

wouldn't it be nice (to play the game without a crooked die)

summary: dennis whitaker character study, from the eyes of trinity santos rating: teen wc: 2k

There’s something fucking weird about Huckleberry. 

Not in the same was there was something fucking weird about Langdon. At least… Trinity doesn’t think so. 

And it’s not that she doesn’t like him! Really! She likes him a lot! He’s not bad, for a dude; Trinity likes that he’s unobtrusive and mostly quiet, that he listens and he goes out of his way to really help people. He’s been doing the outreach program thing with McKay and Kiara, which Trinity thinks is very fucking cool and very compassionate of him.

But still. There’s something fucking weird about the guy that Trinity still cannot put her finger on after living with him for a month, and it is driving her nuts.

She doesn’t usually have this problem. She’s kind of notorious for being able to pick up on people’s secrets and idiosyncrasies. She would have figured out McKay was on house arrest with a quickness if she’d spent more time with her that first day, Trinity is absolutely certain of it. She figured out Langdon’s thing with the pills and Javadi’s nepo baby roots, and she clocked Mel’s autism and Garcia’s girl-kissing tendencies within moments of meeting them.

At first, Trinity thought she’d had him pegged with the whole Huckleberry schtick. Yes, he’s a country bumpkin who grew up in the sticks going to church multiple times a week. Yes, he was an unhoused med student squatting at the hospital. But there’s something else in there. Every time she thinks she’s getting close to cracking him open like an egg, the tower of cards topples over again and she’s left reeling. 

She just can’t see him. And that, more than anything, is fucking weird.

He’s not an addict or an alcoholic. He’s not hiding a secret girlfriend or boyfriend or sick family member. He’s not a cop. He has a secret and Trinity can fucking smell it on him, but for her life she cannot figure it out.

“What the fuck is your deal, Huckleberry?” she finally asks him, breaking at long last one Saturday night when they get home from a miraculously easy shift.

Trinity is sitting on the couch, Huckleberry coming to join her as he tosses her a can of beer from their shared fridge. His hair is still damp from the shower, his slippers making little shuffling noises as he moves across the linoleum toward their small shared living room.

“What do you mean?” He looks like a spooked stray, backed into a corner with a slip lead. Trinity frowns; she thought he’d stopped looking at her like that.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, kicking her feet up casually on the ottoman in front of the couch to show him she’s not a threat. In a way that says this is friendly — this is banter.

“I mean I can’t figure you out. Langdon’s got his pills, McKay’s got her ankle monitor, Robby’s a basketcase and he’s got history with Collins, Mel’s on the spectrum, Crash is nepo baby supreme -” 

“She doesn’t like it when you call her that,” Huckleberry cuts in to remind her.

Trinity waves a hand as if shooing a bug away, and gets back to the conversation at hand, staring at him pointedly and asking, “What… about… you?”

This part she says slowly, deliberately. She still wants Huckleberry to know that she’ll get his number eventually, even if he doesn’t tell her. Trinity is out of her element for once. She’s free falling here, finally admitting to herself that she doesn’t have the upperhand this time. With him, of all people — Trinity does not have the upperhand.

“You figured me out already, didn’t you? I was living in the hospital. Poor, sad, wet cat of a med student, down on my luck and homeless.”

Trinity narrows her eyes at him. 

“It’s tattoos, isn’t it? You’re hiding a whole… leg sleeve, or whatever. Or —” Trinity gasps dramatically. “It’s a dick piercing! You have a whole Jacob’s Ladder situation in your boxers, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally it.”

He smiles, and to her it looks smug and satisfied, like he just got one over on her. Which is better than the kicked puppy expression from before, but not by a whole lot. This one is endlessly more annoying. He’s barely even trying to hide it, grinning around his long slow drag on the can of beer in his hand as he reaches for the remote. 

He’s much more relaxed now, melting back into the couch. The conversation is over, apparently, as Huckleberry turns on the TV and their little shared living room fills with the sounds of whatever silly show her roommate is deep diving this week.

— — —

Huckleberry doesn’t have any friends.

That’s not his secret, just an observation. He doesn’t have any friends and he doesn’t seem all too invested in making any either. He’s kind of a loner. Not in the creepy, school shooter kind of way. More like… in the monk kind of way. He reads a lot, and he does go on TV deep dives. He likes documentaries and procedurals. When he’s tired he likes sitcoms. 

He reads a lot. He reads those… dark romance fantasy books with the titillating cover art and titles like A Kingdom of Ravens and Razorblades or some other shit that makes Trinity nostalgic for her high school goth phase. He pretends to not notice when she borrows his books, which is sweet of him.

Trinity took him to a stand up comedy club a few weeks after they started living together, and she discovered he likes female comedians. He likes lesbian comedians.

Huckleberry likes craft beer and dislikes red meat that isn’t smashed into a patty shape, shoved between a pair of buns and loaded with veggies, cheese, and condiments. Trinity’s refrigerator is a rainbow of fresh fruits and vegetables for the first time since she moved away from home. 

He drinks his coffee black. Which, of course, is serial killer behavior.

Trinity is pretty sure Huckleberry is not a serial killer.

Huckleberry does not call or visit his family. He talks about them like they’re ghosts; Trinity knows they’re not dead, just not a part of his life anymore. He doesn’t talk about them often, never refers to the place he grew up as back home the way Trinity does. He uses phrases like before and back on the farm and when my mom and I still got along. Trinity thinks they’re a piece of the puzzle of Huckleberry that she has been trying to figure out.

He does not go to church, but he can quote The Bible verbatim at the drop of a hat. He always looks fucking exhausted. Trinity is pretty sure he suffers from insomnia — how else is he reading all those fucking books?

He’s terrible at video games but a terrific teammate to have during trivia night at the dive bar. He always beats Trinity’s ass at pool. 

It’s taking every ounce of willpower in Trinity’s body to not snoop through his room for secrets. She won’t, because that’s such a fucked up invasion of privacy, and her dad read her diary when she was fourteen; she would never inflict that kind of betrayal on someone she cares about.

Trinity cares about Huckleberry. She cares about him in a way she hasn’t cared about a friend in a long time.

The longer they live and work together, the closer they become. They become friends. By their third and final month together in the ER before Huckleberry starts his next rotation, they can practically read each other’s minds. They stick together whenever they can, because he doesn’t take anything she says personally and she feels comfortable giving him credit and letting him take the lead sometimes.

Garcia comments on their rapport more than once. Huckleberry notices the gravitational pull that is Garcia and Santos. He only picks on her a little bit about it, and only ever in the privacy of their shared home.

“Garcia asked me about you today,” he tells her one night, apropos of nothing as she cuts her sandwich into little triangles like her mom used to do for her. 

“Oh yeah?” She brings her plate into the living room and sits down in her usual spot.

“She asked what our deal is. She grills people in the exact same way that you do.”

“Ha ha,” Trinity says, injecting just the right amount of sarcasm to make Huckleberry smile.

“I told her we’re roommates and good friends. She seemed to be satisfied with that. I think she likes you…” this last part he says in a teasing sort of singsong, with a suggestive waggle of his translucent brows.

Trinity kicks him.

“Give it time,” she says. “I’ll woo her into my bed and kick you out for the weekend.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready to rent the U-Haul.”

She laughs sarcastically again, feeling just a little awkward now that her crush is well and truly out in the open. She thought she’d been doing a decent job at hiding it. 

They lapse into a comfortable silence; Trinity scrolls through her Instagram feed as she eats, the TV narrating Huckleberry’s latest documentary undertaking ��� some guy smuggling North Korean refugees across the border and away from fascism. 

“I’m trans.”

He says it like it's been burning a hole through him, and the puzzle of Dennis Whitaker slots together, just as simple as that.

Slowly, with a mouthful of salami, provolone, and mustard, Trinity nods.

“I’m glad I didn’t figure it out on my own. Thanks for trusting me.”

He barks out a nervous little laugh. “That’s it? No invasive questions, no gloating about how you’d get to the bottom of it eventually?”

“No, man… this one’s not a gotcha. I know it’s not exactly something you’re supposed to say to your trans friends, but genuinely — I never would have guessed.”

“That is not offensive to me, believe me,” Huckleberry says with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been stealth since, like… my third year of undergrad? Changed my name to Dennis and never looked back. I am kind of surprised that you didn’t jump straight to the surgery questions.”

Internally, Trinity is bouncing on the balls of her feet. She wants to ask — dying to know the details, actually. She’s had her eye on all things surgical for a hot minute, and she’s been playing with the idea of applying for an emergency surgery or plastics residency for a little while now, so yeah… she wants to ask.

Huckleberry sighs again — amicably this time — and smiles in Trinity’s direction.

“I got peri-keyhole top surgery a year and a half ago, right here at our hospital. A single chart search of my name would have told you everything.”

Through a mouthful of sandwich, Trinity does her best to tsk at him. “That’s a HIPAA violation — what do you take me for?”

“Thanks for not snooping.”

“How do you know I didn't?”

Huckleberry huffs a little. “My testosterone vials and syringes are sitting in a basket on my nightstand.”

Trinity’s laugh is so loud it takes even her by surprise. “You weren’t even trying to hide it?”

“Not really,” he admits. “Not here. Not with you.”

Trinity has to physically stop herself from putting her hand to her chest. He really is just so sweet. It’s quiet again after that; it’s not awkward, just thoughtful, and Trinity finds herself feeling a little sad at the thought that Huckleberry is going to be leaving her all alone in emergency in just a few short weeks to go to his next rotation.

“So, Huckleberry,” she sighs, “where ya headed after emergency?”

“Pediatrics. But that’s my last rotation, and then I’m coming back to emergency to do my internship.”

“Awww, you gonna miss me?”

“Nah, not too much,” he says. “Hanging out with kids all day won’t be that much different than hanging out with you.”

Trinity kicks him, and the two of them laugh good naturedly. The truth is, Trinity is going to miss him. Sure, he’ll still be here, in her home at the end of a long shift. And they will keep going out to the comedy club and trivia night at the bar, and he will continue to be her wingman with Garcia, and she will keep his secret. 

There’s something special about a mean lesbian and her golden retriever trans guy. Jesus. They're a stereotype now. A fiction trope. Terrific.

As the companionable silence settles over their living room, Trinity remembers with humiliation, “Oh my god, I assumed you had a dick piercing.”

Huckleberry snorts. “Oh, yeah, I was riding that gender euphoria high for days.”

--

title taken from concrete jungle by bad omens tagged because you both asked me to, even tho I know neither of you go here: @dangerous-disposition @patchworkgargoyle

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 23

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22

A/N: oh my good lord i am sooo sorry for how long it's taken for me to update this i've been down the pitt/mohabbot rabbit hole and im still there but i got out long enough to write this chapter oh boy oh boy im sorry

When Rafe feels someone come stand next to him at the bar, the last person he expects for it to be is John B.

Rafe leans against the bar on his elbow, waiting for one of the bartenders to get their drinks, when John B joins his side. But while Rafe’s pose remains at ease, he can just sense the tension in John B’s body as he leans forward with his arms crossed on the bar. Rafe arches an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything, easily noticing the tic in John B’s jaw, his gaze ahead since he doesn’t look at Rafe just yet.

Things felt civil enough when he and Isla had arrived; he and John B hadn’t shook hands or anything, but it was still progress, in Rafe’s opinion. The fact of the matter is, Rafe doesn’t give a shit about the old Kook versus Pogue mentality that he had lived in for years, not when having that kind of thought process would mean he would lose Isla. She’s far more important to him than old rivalries, and he’s more than ready to move past them and make nice with her—and, in turn, his sister’s—friends if it meant the stress would fall off Isla.

So, instead of running his mouth and antagonizing the situation like his old self would, Rafe simply quietly, and patiently, waits for John B to speak first.

It doesn’t take him long.

“You get it, right, why it’s been hard for us to accept Isla and. . . You,” John B says, speaking haltingly like he was trying to find the right words as he drags his gaze to Rafe’s.

Briefly pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Rafe exhales sharply through his nose. “I get why you guys have a hard time looking past our shit history. I don’t get how it was easy for you to ice Isla out like that,” Rafe replies. He’s trying to be civil, he really is. But then he thinks of how heartbroken Isla has been, how many tears she has shed, and Rafe is filled with the primal, visceral urge to protect her from anything and anyone that could even potentially hurt her. And whatever his history with the Pogues, he hates that her own friends had been the ones to inflict that kind of pain on her. 

Though, it’s not surprising. It’s the people you love the most that have the greatest potential to hurt you.

John B’s jaw works and Rafe can tell he’s frustrated. “It wasn’t easy,” John B argues, and when Rafe’s expression remains unconvinced, John B lets out a huff. “It wasn’t,” he insists, his spine straightening. Rafe still has a few inches on him. On all of them, really. “I—Look, it’s not right how we reacted. I know that. But we all just felt. . . Blindsided by your relationship, alright? With everything in our past, none of us really understood why you of all people.”

If Rafe had thinner skin, he’d be more insulted by John B’s words. He won’t lie to himself—it does sting a bit that her friends took one look at his relationship with Isla and immediately wrote it off simply because of him. He gets it and, not for the first time, he regrets all of the shit that has gone down between him and Isla’s friends. The unnecessary fights, provocations, the put-downs. Sure, it was all mutual, each side dishing an equal amount, but it certainly doesn’t gain Rafe any brownie points with the Pogues.

“But—” John B continues, pulling Rafe out of his thoughts as he takes a look at the other guy. John B fiddles the sleeve of his suit jacket, his jaw working. “I miss Isla. We all do. We’re not us without her.”

Rafe shakes his head, releasing an almost disbelieving chuckle. “She’s right there, man,” he says, vaguely gesturing in the direction where she sits with Sarah. “She’s been waiting for you all to get over it, or at the very least, fucking talk to her instead of shutting her out.” He thanks the bartender who places their drinks in front of them, and Rafe pushes one of the glasses towards John B, who looks at the glass briefly before lifting his gaze to meet Rafe’s pointed one. “If you all miss her as much as you’re saying, then do something about it.” Rafe grabs two of the glasses, while John B also takes the one for Sarah. “And, for shit’s sake, get JJ to take back that stupid ultimatum. Get through to him, will you?”

It pisses him off just thinking about it and based on the radio silence Isla has been facing from JJ, Rafe has no doubt he was serious about giving Isla those choices. He has seen the way it weighs on Isla even if she tries to push it away with smiles that don’t quite reach her eyes always. Rafe knows all of her smiles, each of them beautiful in their own way, but it hurts to see the sadness in that specific smile—the one she forces because the pain of her strained relationship with her friends makes her hold back. 

“Yeah,” John B responds with a sigh, nodding when Rafe eyes him. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him. All of ’em.”

Rafe nods stiffly. While he’s glad that John B will finally get their group to get their heads out of their asses, he’s still a little annoyed that John B didn’t do it already—that it took a conversation with Rafe to kick his ass into gear. Maybe he just needed to see Rafe and Isla together to realize they aren’t fucking around, that their relationship has nothing to do with her friends, and make John B see the truth of it. Whatever. He wishes they just listened to Isla, took her word for it. 

He and John B return to the table and Rafe isn’t surprised that Isla and Sarah are eyeing them both curiously, a touch of worry in Isla’s green eyes. Rafe gives her a reassuring smile as they approach them, setting the glasses down on the table as he returns to his seat next to her. 

Isla’s hand finds his knee, leaning closer as she whispers, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he tells her truthfully with a smile. “All good, baby.” He takes her hand that’s on his knee and laces their fingers together, feeling her relax under his touch. Rafe presses a kiss to the back of her hand and is relieved to see the smile that curves at her lips, leaning into him more as Rafe mirrors her smile.

From behind her, he sees John B watching them. Rafe sees the smile on the other man’s face and he takes it as a sign that things between Isla and her friends will be looking up. 

Cocktail hour passes uneventfully, with Rafe and sometimes Sarah having to make the rounds as Ward’s kids—plus, there are plenty of people here Rafe works with, too. He doesn’t drag Isla around with him and often catches sight of her talking to John B, the two of them far more relaxed with one another as the night progresses. They all have dinner together once the welcoming and keynote speeches are done, and as the tables are being cleared away, John B excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

Sarah is pulled into a conversation with someone Rafe vaguely recognizes and Isla turns in her seat to face him. Rafe mirrors her position to face her as well, legs parted to make space for her, his arms resting on his thighs as his back hunches forward a bit, looking up at her. Not for the first time, he’s struck by how stunning she is, effortlessly so. The dress brings out her green eyes, fitting her perfectly, and his blood thrums with the desperate need to peel it off of her, run his fingers along every dip and curve of her body that he already knows intimately well.

“It’s going well, I’d say,” Isla quips with a smile dancing at the edge of her lips as she looks down at him, as she sits with perfect posture and he’s leaned down, weight on his arms resting on his thighs.

“What is?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

Her smile widens a bit, showing off dimples he’s brushed his fingers along countless times already. It’s a breath of fresh air, every time he sees her smile. Drives him crazy. “You and John B being in the same room,” she tells him quietly, like it’s a secret between the two of them. “I’m glad you two decided not to give me and Sarah heart burn.”

“Anythin’ for our ladies, I guess,” Rafe replies with a teasing grin, fingers idly running up and down the length of her calves, one of them exposed thanks to the delicious slit of her dress.

Isla huffs out a laugh, her jewelry glimmering under the lights. “What were you two talking about? At the bar?” she asks curiously, fingers idly playing with his tie.

“He told me how he missed you,” Rafe tells her truthfully, watching as Isla’s eyes widen slightly. It kills him, a little, at the idea that that’s so surprising to her. “They all miss you. And I told him there’s a very easy way to fix this, and that he should just talk to the rest of your friends because everything about this is stupid.”

Her lips tremble with the effort of suppressing her laugh, shaking her head as her gaze softens, fond and warm. “I appreciate it,” she says and the way her eyes shine, Rafe knows she means it. 

Rafe smiles, giving into the urge to kiss her as he leans towards her, only to be interrupted by Sarah coming to stand next to their chairs. “Hey, sorry,” Sarah says, getting both of their attention as they look up at her. Sarah shoots Rafe a concerned look, and it has his back straightening. “I—John B went to the bathroom a while ago and hasn’t come back. Can you go check?”

Rafe blinks. “You want me to check in on your boyfriend. . . In the bathroom?” he asks slowly, face scrunching up.

Sarah bounces from one leg to another. “I saw Topper head in that direction and I—just—can you please?” 

Rafe runs his tongue along his teeth, suddenly understanding Sarah’s apprehension. He wouldn’t put it past Topper to corner John B in the bathroom and, frankly, Rafe is pretty sure John B can hold his own. But then he sees Sarah’s, and now Isla’s, worried expressions, and he’s on his feet without much thought. “I’ll check,” he tells them, earning grateful smiles from them both before he turns to walk out of the hall.

He smooths down his tie as he strides out of the room, leaving the party behind as he heads towards the bathrooms. Rafe’s jaw works at the idea of what he might be walking into, though he has a pretty good idea if Topper did, in fact, go to the bathrooms to confront John B, what Rafe is about to see. Topper, it seems, doesn’t know when to quit, and while Rafe didn’t bat an eye when they were friends, it pisses him off now.

Especially when he opens the door to the men's room and sees, unsurprisingly, Topper getting up in John B’s face.

Rafe’s voice is casual as he says, “Any closer and you’ll be kissin’ him, Top.” John B’s gaze meets his around Topper as the bathroom door swings shut behind Rafe. “What the hell are you doing?”

Topper doesn’t turn to look at him. “Nothing we haven’t done before, man,” he answers, his gaze no doubt fixed on John B. It’d be a bet Rafe wins, he knows, as he stares at the back of Topper’s blond head. “What, you here to defend your new friend?” he asks with a sneer that has Rafe rolling his eyes.

Rafe tilts his head slightly. There’s no one else in the bathroom, as far as he can tell. “No. I’m here to make sure you don’t get your ass kicked which, honestly, I don’t really give much of a shit about. But if I were you, I’d back up.”

He notes the tension lining Topper’s shoulders under his suit jacket before he takes a step away from John B and turns to face Rafe. “What, are you two besties now? You’re gonna defend him?” Topper tilts his head. “Weren’t you the one who said he wasn’t good enough for your sister or your family?”

Rafe doesn’t wince or flinch at the words he had spoken in the past being thrown back in his face. Frankly, he has said worse things to John B’s face. Behind Topper, John B doesn’t look upset, either. Whatever Topper’s goal was, he misses it as Rafe levels a flat stare at him. “Yeah, and I also said I’d prefer Sarah dating you over him.” Rafe shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “Clearly, I said a lot of shit I was wrong about.”

That, he notices, takes John B by surprise a bit, his eyebrows rising behind Topper. But Rafe is being honest—now that he knows how much Sarah loves John B, and how much that love is returned, he regrets ever questioning their relationship. Now that he has Isla in his life and has gotten a taste of the kind of happiness that comes from being with someone you know, deep in your bones, you are meant to be with, Rafe would never want that to be taken away from his sister.

He thinks he might go crazy if it was taken away from him.

“Unbelievable,” Topper laughs as he gapes at Rafe, bewildered and mocking as he walks over to him. “You’ve become one of them now, is that it? You fuck a Pogue long enough and you turn into one?” His smile is more of a sneer. “Just like your sister, huh?”

Ice freezes over Rafe’s blood as his temper simmers, a protective sort of rage seeping through him. His voice stays eerily steady as he says, “Better watch your mouth, Top. I don’t think John B or I take it too well when people talk about our girls like that.”

He sees how that triggers, so to speak, Topper. The idea of Rafe accepting John B as Sarah’s boyfriend, even though they’ve been together for a year, pisses Topper off, clearly. His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing with fists curling at his sides. And maybe the guy is stupider than Rafe could see before, because he steps up to Rafe, obviously trying to be intimidating and falling short. Rafe would laugh, if it weren’t for Topper musing, “Maybe I should get myself a Pogue.” He flicks the front of Rafe’s tie, widening his eyes in feigned wonder. “Hey, you think Isla would be interested in taking turns? Maybe I can see what the hype’s about, since Sarah’s been pretty used throu—”

It was Topper’s own fault, really, for thinking he’d be able to finish that sentence without taking a hit.

The adrenaline numbs Rafe to the pain in his knuckles right after it collides with Topper’s jaw. The blond stumbles back and John B locks his arms around him, pinning Topper’s own arms to the side as he struggles and thrashes against John B’s grip, but it’s tight and unrelenting. John B’s expression is hard, lips curled in a sneer as he prevents Topper from swinging back at Rafe. 

Topper’s lip is bleeding, his teeth having cut it upon Rafe’s fist’s impact, and Rafe steps towards him, flexing his fingers and feeling the tension and sting as he grips the lapels of Topper’s suit jacket. He sees the anger in Topper’s blue eyes, the curl of his bleeding lip as he’s forced to still in his struggle. Rafe easily towers over him and a primal sort of satisfaction rushes through him at the flicker of fear in Topper’s eyes, rearing back as far as he can, but John B is right there, not giving him much room to cower.

Rafe’s voice is dangerously low, the intent to put Topper’s head through a wall loudly clear in his tone. “Let’s get one thing clear, Thornton—I’m sick of you actin’ as if you’re owed something by everyone. You walk around picking fights with people you think have fucked you over, but you’re only embarrassing yourself.” Rafe’s grip on Topper’s jacket tightens, his blood boiling and pulse rapidly firing. “If you ever think about Isla and Sarah again, I’m going to ruin your fucking life. You won’t be able to show your face in the entire state if you keep this bullshit up. Not even your judge grandpa will be able to save you. You fucking get me?”

Indignation swims in Topper’s eyes, staring at Rafe as if he’s never seen him before. “You’re throwing away seventeen years of friendship for—”

“Yeah,” Rafe says tightly, not bothering to let Topper finish. “I am.”

He lets go of him then, his gaze meeting John B’s behind Topper, who waits a beat before he lets Topper go. Topper shoves away, straightening himself and his suit jacket out, his gaze never straying from Rafe. A trickle of blood leaks from the corner of Topper’s mouth, his perfectly styled hair in slight disarray, which makes Rafe feel more satisfied than it should. 

He stares at Topper, though, and Rafe can feel their near two decade long friendship crumbling between them. Topper’s been his longest, oldest friend; they’ve known each other since pre-school, have made countless memories together, raised plenty of hell. Rafe knows that things have been shifting between them as he was becoming more familiar with his feelings for Isla, as the two of them started going out. The whole Kooks versus Pogues mentality seems so far away to him now, and he wishes that the same could be said for Topper.

But it’s abundantly clear that while Rafe has started a new chapter in his life, Topper has fallen far behind.

And it hurts, if he’s being honest, to see their friendship implode. But Rafe also isn’t going to let Topper get away with the shit he spews about his girlfriend and sister. The friendship, despite its longevity, isn’t worth that.

Topper pulls out his handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket, glaring at Rafe as he wipes at the blood on his face. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” he mutters with a shake of his head,  moving to walk past him. He throws him and John B another dirty look, sharper towards John B and—more hurt towards Rafe, who swallows down the tightness in his throat. “Fuck this.”

He storms out, the door falling shut behind him, and the bathroom is left in a tense silence. Rafe runs his tongue along his teeth, fingers once again flexing at his side as he looks down at them, taking in the harsh redness already forming where the skin broke a bit. Slowly, the tension seeps out of his muscles—very slowly, and the silence of the bathroom is broken when John B speaks up.

“Didn’t see that coming,” he says idly, straightening the front of his shirt and suit jacket as well. 

Rafe exhales roughly through his nose. “It was a long time coming,” he corrects with a mutter as he looks at him. He looks fine, but Rafe still asks, “You good, man?”

There’s a flicker of surprise in John B’s dark eyes before it disappears and he nods. “Yeah, I’m alright.” His gaze dips to Rafe’s hand. “What about you? Might need to ice that hand.”

“I’ll live,” Rafe says with a short chuckle before he lifts his chin. The air shifts, not as tense, but he still looks John B in the eye and asks meaningfully, “We good?”

John B stares at him for a beat before he lets out a breath as well, the corners of his lips tipping up in an accepting smile. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”

Rafe nods, feeling more relieved than he anticipated, and he and John B leave the bathroom to head back to the party. He doesn’t look to see where Topper scurried off to as he and John B head back to the table. Rafe’s knuckles aren’t bleeding, but they are a bit raw, and he doesn’t have a hope in hiding it because the second they near the table where Isla and Sarah are sitting, his girlfriend immediately clocks the injury.

“What happened?” she asks, alarmed but hushed as she gets to her feet, her hands immediately grasping his—gingerly, her fingers holding his as she looks at the raw knuckles with concern creasing her forehead. 

Even Sarah stands up, coming over to them with her eyebrows furrowing together. “It’s not a big deal,” Rafe assures them and despite the tension from earlier, he feels a smile ease onto his face as he gets crowded by his girlfriend and sister.

Sarah shakes her head. “You punched Topper?” she asks, disbelief coloring her tone. And a hint of laughter, if he listens for it.

Isla looks up at him, eyes slightly wide in surprise. He shoots her a flat look that has the corners of her mouth curving up. Before either of them can say anything, a hand appears holding a bag of ice, wrapped in one of the white cloth napkins. All three of their heads follow the hand that leads to John B, who raises his eyebrows at a surprised looking Rafe.

“It’ll help with the swelling,” he says, gaze unwavering, and when Rafe takes it with his uninjured hand, it feels like accepting an olive branch.

“Thanks,” Rafe says genuinely with a dip of his chin, which John B returns, as Rafe places it on his knuckles. His gaze flickers, then, and he catches Isla and Sarah looking between the two of them as if they both grew a second head. When he looks back at John B, the brunette is clearly fighting back a smile, and Rafe finds himself huffing out a laugh as he looks back at a bewildered Isla and Sarah. “You two are gonna dry your eyes out if you don’t blink soon.”

“What is going on.” Sarah asks, though it comes out more as a statement, a demand. 

John B drops an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, grinning. “We kissed and made up,” he says with a casual shrug.

It has Rafe snorting out a laugh, surprisingly enough, even as he sucks in a quiet breath when he adjusts the ice on his knuckles. Isla grimaces, still holding his hand from the bottom, as Sarah shakes her head, blinking at Rafe and John B. “I’m so confused.”

Isla cracks a smile in her direction. “Don’t question it.” She looks back at Rafe, her voice quieting, just for him as she looks up at him through long eyelashes and asks, “Are you okay?”

Rafe meets her gaze, the world around them slipping away as he sees the way she searches his eyes. He knows, right then, she doesn’t mean just physically. That she knows what it’s like to be on opposite sides of a friendship, and that something fundamentally has broken between him and Topper. But right now, Rafe can’t make sense of it all.

So he gives her a gentle smile and responds, “Ask me again later?” and, to his relief, she nods after a beat of hesitation. 

“Uh, should we leave before Dad finds out you punched someone at this party?” Sarah pipes up, brown eyes darting around the room.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. “If Dad knew what Topper was saying, he wouldn’t be upset.” He blows out a breath through his nose. “But I’m ready to head out,” he adds, glancing at Isla in question, who nods in agreement.

John B smiles. “I know a place we can go.”

*****

If anyone had told Rafe, months ago, that he would be having a beer in John B’s backyard—in the backyard of the Chateau—Rafe would’ve laughed in your face. Maybe said something rude and condescending for even suggesting such a thing.

Yet here he sits, in one of the hammocks even, with a cold beer in his hand and legs spread so Isla could slot hers in the space in between. Through the leaves of the trees around them, Rafe sees the clear dark sky, stars winking in and out of existence as the hammock gently sways under their weight. John B and Sarah are in the next one, their positions mirroring his and Isla’s, and it all feels a little surreal to Rafe.

Inside the Chateau, a few of the lights are on where Big John hangs out. Rafe hadn’t missed the surprise in his eyes from behind his wiry sunglasses when he realized Rafe was accompanying the group of them, but the man had greeted and welcomed him with the same kind of friendliness he always did whenever Rafe happened to see him. Which is a little more than often, given that Big John and Rafe’s dad are friends.

“I’m thinking another boneyard party,” John B muses thoughtfully, his head resting back as he, too, gazes up.

Sarah snorts. “Yeah, because the last one definitely wasn’t broken up by the cops.”

But Isla hums with a smile. “But the last one did have a hand in us getting together,” she says, meeting his gaze.

Rafe grins, remembering that night well. John B looks between them. “Wait, really?”

Isla nods, chuckling. “Remember I said some touron gave me a ride home after we all split up when the cops came?” John B nods and Isla jerks her chin at Rafe. “My knight on a shining motorcycle.”

Sarah feigns a sniff, one hand to her chest and the other wiping a fake tear. “He does have a heart.”

“You’re so funny,” Rafe says sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, but Sarah’s responding laughter has him shaking his head with a small smile of his own. His eyes land on Isla opposite of him and she’s watching him with that gentle smile, one that hints at her dimples, and Rafe’s chest tightens at the sight of her.

Still in her dress, though this time his suit jacket is draped over her shoulders to shield her from the night chill. “It was very sweet,” Isla tells Sarah and John B with a smile before her gaze flicks back to Rafe. She’s looking at him as she tells the couple in the next hammock, “He didn’t have to save my ass, but I’m glad he did.” Rafe’s pulse thumps happily as she nudges her painted toes against his hip where her legs are stretched out next to him. “Who knows if we’d be here if he hadn’t?”

Rafe watches her, unable to see anything or anyone else. “I would’ve found a way,” he replies, the words wrapped in a vow.

Isla’s smile widens, dimple deepening. He loves the sight of them. To his right, he hears John B groan. “Ugh, you were right. They are cute together.”

Both Rafe and Isla look over at them, catching Sarah’s grin and John B’s head shake, though he seems to be hiding his own smile in his next sip of beer. Hearing John B say that clearly delights Isla, green eyes shining in the dark, and Rafe finds himself appreciative of John B’s words, too.

Sarah just grins smugly, triumphantly. “I love being right.”

-

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[there-are-many-ways-to-smile]

Which one of the Randa siblings is older?

Cate is or was a teacher. So maybe that’s like 25. It seems like her life is put more together if she’s traveling to Japan to find out what her dad was hiding. Like she’s doing it on her own dime and time. But her dad is out here funding two families so they probably have money.

But her actress Anna Sawai is 31

Where is, Kentaro Randa seems younger like 22 maybe??

He has a whole job, doing what idk? He has relationship problems but anyone at any age can have those. Soooooooooo

His actor Ren Watabe is 24

But I guess the show could go with height being an age indicator, Kentaro is taller than Cate.

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[whiteboardartstudios]

I SAID I WAS GOING TO DRAW THAT CAR SO HERE WE ARE (I hope you enjoy this is the stupidest thing I've drawn in months /affectionate)

(I put the image descriptions in the Alt text this time because there's so many images. If it doesn't work please tell me and I'll yeet them in the actual post!!)

happy finale of Wild Life everybody! :D

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[bmpmp3]

ive mentioned this before but i really do love my key rat so much. i need to try to reverse engineer how this thing was constructed. i need to know how he was created

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

shout out 2 my mam for listenning to me bark angrily about the most recent 'scream' sequel wiTHOUT beating me to death with a wooden spoon !!!!!!! bc im annoying. about films i like when the sequels or remakes are bad. and this most recent 'scream'. was. bad

if i may be so bold as to put forth a personal opinion, 'scream' should NEVER EVER have had ANY SEQUELS EVER. listennn i LOVED 'scream'!!!!! i truly did!!!!!! but given that it's half satire half deconstruction of the slasher genre (as the genre had become) it should ALWAYS have been a standalone film imo. it was pitch perfect and they should have just!!! LET IT BE!!!! but nooooOOOOoooo they had to make moORE MONEY~~~

adsoasdafdjiai whatever at least they didn't bring sidney back just to kill her. that would have really boiled my piss i swear i would have. BEEN VERY CROSS >:V

anyway as it stands i am. completely dissatisfied with this film, cannot in good conscience recommend. rated 3/10 but only bc hayden panettierre was there to calm my rage AND the ppl who survived did not annoy me too much 😔👌

[prlssprfctn]

Tim: Okay, we will just keep it in a secret for a while...

Dick: Oh, how hard it can be, anyway?

Damian: Right. No one wants to remember this.

Jason, spawning behind their backs: You suck at being secretive. What's up?

Dick, giggling nervously: A-ah, Little Wing, uh—

Jason: Well? Whatever it is, I am going to find it out one way or another.

Tim: Promise not to freak out? It is about Bruce.

Jason, crossing fingers behind his back: Promise.

Damian: Father had found himself a new love interest. And it is unbecoming.

Jason, confused: Uh, alright? Why would I care—

Tim, blurting out: It is Joe Chill's daughter.

Jason: Who tf—

Jason: ...Joe Chill, like Martha and Thomas Wayne's killer Joe Chill?

Dick: ...Yeah. That one guy.

Jason: ...

Jason: Yeah, honestly, the fuck I expected when I asked him to kill Joker... He can't even avenge his own ass. Not just that. HE DATES HIS DAUGHTER?

Damian: ...My mother is literally right here.

Dick: Or auntie Selina.

Tim: And Clark. Or even Oliver. Or even Hal—

Jason: I am so *not* joining family dinners anymore.

Dick: Yeah... Anyway, B asked to keep it away from Alfred for a while.

Alfred, ominously appearing in the dark corner of the room: It is a little bit late, gentlemen.

Boys: (nervous gulping)

Alfred, surprisingly calm: Of course, we shall not blame children for sins of their parents. I believe this woman could be better than her father ever was.

Alfred: I am happy for master Bruce. Of course.

Alfred: By the way, do you, boys, prefer poison or bullet?

Dick, nervous: Hey, I am pretty sure the poor girl—

Alfred: Who said anything about the lady?

Tim, whistling: Well, Cass would be delighted to inherit a cowl so soon...

Jason: Okay, you all, let's all just do whatever we think Thomas and Martha would like us to do in this situation...

Dick: Yeah, they probably would be happy for—

Alfred: Thomas would choose a gun.

Boys: (nervous giggle)

Dick, whispering: I'll message B to leave the town.

Tim: Ask him to hide at Kent's. Maybe he can still be saved.

Jason: I'll message Mama Cat. Someone needs to fuck his brain back.

Damian: ...I rather not bother mother. Either way, she will kill Father faster than Alfred will.

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[arcadia345]

❃Astrology observations❃

Masterlist

Not a real astrologer just my observations:)

❃ Aquarius moon femmes tend to be more masculine/tomboyish whether it be their personality or fashion sense they prefer loose fitting clothes. They have this nonchalantness/offstandish energy about them, they also are very sensitive and receptive to energies around them esp after one on one interactions but surprisingly do very well w online interactions💀they could feel like their personality shines brighter online than irl

❃ 12th ruler in 7th natal partners could have animosity towards you esp if you prefer men they tend to have secret intentions/lives

❃ Sagittarius in your natal chart is where you tell the best stories, and gemini can show where others ask for advice/tell their best stories to you(and lowkey try to impress you)

♐︎ in 1st -you ARE the story, there’s never a dull moment ,so many memories are made w you, many stories where you had to be reminded that your that GIRL/GUY✨ (esp by your guides)

♐︎ in 8th- they articulate their trauma very well, the ones that talk openly about their abuse, lots of near-death stories, surgery stories that they almost didn’t make it out of, thieving stories

♐︎ in 11th- the type to bring their friends into every situation/story, most likely to do the best story time vids online, their stories can be eye opening for the collective, people love when they predict the future, stories about the future/goals of humanity, evolution stories, stories about you gaining independence(just like 1st)

♐︎ in 12th- they love to hear about your dreams and conspiracies, they love when you talk about your insecurities and spill your own secrets, your paranormal experiences and things about past lives

♊︎ in 2nd- they love to tell you how hard they work for their assets, “You know I haven’t told anyone this but I feel like I can trust you.” They don’t mind telling you about their illegal activities, people have a tendency to think you took something from them, they come to you for advice on how to approach situations

♊︎ in 5th- the type to have kids come up to them and all their parents business (4th house also), the best childhood memory stories, people try to impress you w their sex stories , they come to you for advice on sex and love matters also, asking for your opinion w fashion & aesthetics, you make them want to try new things🥵

❃ Taurus in the 3rd/4th find it hard to leave their family/home

Cancer risings (4°16°28°) their face and body fluctuate through life but their faces tend to get rounder/fuller as they age

❃ Sending love out to Venus in Pisces/12th house natals y’all are what fairytales are made of🥺 just being in your presence is healing even tho they feel sometimes their deepness and devotion isn’t reciprocated at times idk who needed to hear this but your loving energy transcends the physical barriers you could do a lot of energy work on the other side w/o even realizing it esp while sleeping🧡

❃ I feel bad for Chloe because w that Gemini mars baby everybody always gonna think you doing too much😭 unti you don’t do enough & they’ll still be mad

Finding out Lil uzi has a Gemini mars sent me💀 it reminds of them vids of their security guard trying to keep up w them while they jump all over the place🕺🏽

❃ Sag moon children mom was in her hoe phase when u were conceived. Partying/traveling/drinking/learning was prominent for her at the time

Venus in natal can show you why others envy you

♀ in 2nd- they envy how consistently you upkeep yourself, they see how much money you put into yourself to look good, they hate how materially abundant you are, how easily you make money from your talents/assets, they envy your sugar daddy/baby energy

♀ in 4th- they envy how abundant your family/ancestry is, they envy your mom/your motherly skills, how easily you make a house feel like home, how rich your inner world is, your decoration sense, how easily you’ll be remembered after passing/leaving home, how easily you make money from home

♀ in 8th- they envy how easily others trust you esp w their money & possessions, how beautifully you shed your skin in transformations, sugarbaby placement, how magnetic you are, how easily people become obsessed w you, your way of love making/showing love/spoiling others or vise versa

♀ in 12th- a lot of people don’t even realize that they envy you/ subconsciously send you evil eye, you provoke their hidden desires(this place def has lots of people in their circle wishing on their downfall) they envy how content you are with yourself /and how you’ve healed yourself , your music taste

I feel like prominent Pisces placements tend to lose their teeth more often than Capricorns, could also have dreams of teeth falling out/rotting

❃ Prominent Virgo in natal stay cleaning up other people’s 💩💀 like literally tho at some point in your life you’ve had to be some type of caretaker ie. animals, elderly, babies. But 💩 is more prominent/consistent in your life

But if ur a pet owner or caretaker in general you know that a lot of times the only way they can communicate what’s going on w their body Is through their bowel movements so it’s a blessing and a curse cuz it’s not like your obsessed with 💩 (unless👀) but you kinda have to be😭

Aphrodite in Gemini/3rd house natals have contagiously attractive laughs/smiles, delicate hand and arm movements, and beautiful hands and lips

❃ Every time I have prominent 8th synastry esp moon/mars we always have 🩸 sex eventually 🧍🏽‍♀️ they be feigning so bad for you that they can’t wait a few more days they need it now! But they always end up saying you put a spell on them like no bro u willingly put a spell on YOURSELF💀

❃ 7th house mercury could attract or prefer younger/pettie people or they are seen as such, also prone to have partners w prominent anxiety

❃ Eros/mars in Aries/cancer/scorpio in composite charts shows lots of crying during sex but for different reasons

Aries cries because ur f*cking/sucking them so good all they can do is take it like a champ and cry happy tears 🥲

Cancer cries because you truly touched their soul🥺 they never thought sex could be this satisfying and comforting at the same time (healing sex like Pisces)

With scorpio it’s kinda a mixture of both w sprinkles of trauma bonding✨

❃ Venus in 8th synastry- adoring eachothers beauty marks esp the house person @ Venus , the house person usually adores the Venus’s insecurities/stuff about themselves that they never picked up on which gives the Venus person a new prospective of their beauty

❃ Mercury synastry can tell you how you were first introduced/heard of each other

☿ in 8th- meeting while/before going through a transformational/traumatic period in your life, you could have problems w people owing you money or vise versa, catalyst for spiritual & sexual growth, meeting before/after having a major surgery

☿ in 9th- meeting through college/highschool,being introduced to/by a different ethnicity friend,meeting while traveling esp abroad, catalyst in spiritual journey, meeting through religious community

☿ in 4th- I have this w my mom while her ☿ is in my 1st so you could also share this w your parents, w cancer and Aries basically representing the womb her PUMPUM told her about me😂obvi she had no other choice but to learn about me I was coming weather she liked it or not😎 so w 1st house synastry I feel like they were kinda forced onto you they’re pretty hard to miss🥴with 4th her aunts/women in her family told her she was gonna have another baby before she even knew🤷🏽‍♀️

❃ Jupiter in 1st synastry -even the most stubborn person would hear planet person out w this placement 😏 Jupiter boost house persons ego/outlook on life, planet person just makes everything look good & exciting in house person eyes

❃ Pluto in 11th natal- unfriending someone could really feel like a divorce lmao telling people your not friends anymore and they react so crazy like “NO I NEVER WOULDVE THOUGHT💔💔💔” then splittng up your assets (friends/aspirations)

❃ Gemini Venus-girl next door vibe people watch through your window esp w some Pluto energy on your Venus, the song ‘She by Tyler the creator’ was made about us fr😭

❃ Taurus (2°14°26°)moons people think that they own you or that you’re some object they can use anytime they want whether it be your body or your possessions

Also having a Taurus moon could play out as feeling like you didn’t get the support that you needed in ur childhood, the type to have moms that say “I put clothes on your back, food on your plate, and a pillow to lay your head and you’re telling me I didn’t do enough for you??😠😤” like sorry I needed emotional support and understanding as a child that you couldn’t give me🥲 the mom could see the child as spoiled/ungrateful esp with harsh aspects on the moon, but they could also just feel like they have a right to your possessions esp if you live in the same house what is privacy?😀

❃ 6th house synastry is big on planning together,the type to count down the days till they get to see e/o 🥰

Now offering aura & synastry readings

That’s it for now, have a blessed day ✨

[loves0phelia]

hello! hope you’re okay after the ending, honestly I don’t think any of us are.

I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where it’s that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling it’s reader and she’s just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesn’t know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and it’s just really angsty but also cute.

thanks! I love your account btw!

In The Sea

Summery: the anon

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx

You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.

You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.

“So what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?” Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.

“Quick little weekend trip?” She added to her previous sentence.

“What about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?” You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.

“Sarah, you're his family, how do deal with him” John B said, finding no other options.

“I don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..” she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.

“We- we just have to talk to him, or at least try” You proposed earning a frown from JJ.

“Talk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?” 

“Talking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,” John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.

“Why not? What did I do?” He asked, getting almost frustrated.

“We all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing trouble” His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.

“Hey,” You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.

“All right let's talk” Rafe chuckles, and it’s low, almost a whisper. 

Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.

“You guys be cool I'll be cool” His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.

“So now you want peace?” Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“I just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?” He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,

“Listen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groff” He’s breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,

“Hey, Rafe!” Before anyone can react, JJ’s fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafe’s jaw with a force that echoes.

Rafe’s head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.

“holy shit”

“Jesus JJ what's your problem”

“Whoo that felt good” Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.

JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What is wrong with you?” You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw.   “If he didn't do it I was going to do it” Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.

After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his “peacemaker” you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.

You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.

“I brought you food..” You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.

“great” he sighed.

“I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussion” 

“Right… are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or something” He scoffed again clearly angered,

“They don't trust you Rafe… but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bit”

“I am doing the right thing! I helped you” He tried pulling against the restraints but failed. 

“I know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorry” you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. “Please eat,” You said and left closing the large door behind you.

For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. “Y/N come back!” he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. “Fucking untie me please!!” he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.

Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.

John B is right beside him, laughing. “We've got our dinner!" he laughs.

“Guys, this one’s huge!” Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.

You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.

Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.

You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.

Has you were about to close the door you hear him.

“Wait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the fork” his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him. 

You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldn’t reach.

“Thank you” He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.

The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.

“That's not good,” John B says.

“We're gonna have to try to blast through it,” Pope says, not finding any better options.

“Why can't we go south?” Kie asks genuinely.

“The current is gonna be against us we don't have a choice” John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max. 

The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.

Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Hold on to something” Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.

“Hey!” a distant voice echoes through the walls.

“Cut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!” Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.

“Get me out of here!” Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.

“We have to let him out” You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.

“No!” she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.

“He's gonna drown” You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.

The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him.  

You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.

“Cut me loose” he begs.

Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.

“Shit,” You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.

“There! Come on” you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.

You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,

“Something is wrong I have to go see!” 

“No!” Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.

You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.

This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.

The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.

Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. “Y/N!” he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.

“Where is she!” Sarah came rushing to her brother

“She fell overboard” he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. He’s soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but there’s no hesitation as he jumps in after you.

“Rafe no!” She screams after her brother.

A wave slams into Rafe. “Y/N!!” he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.

With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.

“I got you” But you don't hear him in the storm.

You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.

“Hey, open your eyes, look at me” You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.

“That's it” The hands rub your back in a comforting way.

The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.

“Hey you okay?” panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.

“You jumped after me,” you whispered.

“Of course I did”  You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeper—something that’s been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful. 

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafe’s surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.

The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch. 

Rafe’s fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafe’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You saved my life” you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. “I love you, I've always loved you” you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Send request xxx

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 

how ridiculous is that? 

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 

satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 

but the entire time, you never look back. 

you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[elysianightsss]

No because girl you NEEDDDDDD to elaborate on this -> Soulmate AU. Poly!141 x neurodivergent!reader <- I will die happily

Elaboratingggggggg🤭🫠

-

You didn’t think that you’d get this far in life, many reasons spring to mind but the main one is you’re a little different than most people. You can’t cope with certain things and struggle with change. You remember growing up your family would brush off your ‘issues’ and say to just deal with it. How little they understood you.

Moving out was the best decision you ever made, the only change you have ever been happy about. It was necessary and would make your life so much easier on a level only you could understand. You could set up your space the way you like it, the way you need it. And with just you, no one would mess with your stuff just to see you loose it as it was ‘funny’ or move things to suit them better.

This way, you could live in peace.

Task force 141 had just finished a successful mission, camping out in one of the many secret safe houses as they waited for further instructions when they had sent Johnny to the shop for supplies. That’s where he saw you, in a Sainsbury’s supermarket of all places, headphones tight over your ears to block out the world while you tried to decide if the extra two, ninety-nine was worth it or not for the soothing lavender face mask you wanted.

Johnny was quick to subtly snap a picture of you and even go as far as to follow you home before bolting it back to the guys to tell them he’d finally found you. Their last soulmate.

As soon as Johnny showed them the image of you, that was it for them. They had to have you. A burning need coursing through their veins, pumping around their bodies. Nothing would ever be enough until they had you in their arms.

But as said and as they observed themselves, you don’t cope with change.

So they had to situate themselves into your life slowly, one by one.

Johnny and Simon moved in next door to you, and lived there for seven months slowly getting to know you and obviously spying on you. They gradually began to understand you and your cute quirks. They know that you eat the same thing for dinner every night, you use the same plate or bowl and wash it straight after use to make sure it is ready for next time.

You have one set of cutlery, one glass and one mug. Two pillows though you only sleep on one and use the other to hug to sleep. And to top it all off you have one recliner chair and one massive beanbag chair that makes you feel like you’re being hugged tight each time you sit on it. It gives you the deep pressure therapy you desperately need at times.

The guys found your habits strange at first but the more time they spent with you, the more they began to understand you. Understand your need for order, for repetition. And they had experienced first hand what happens when change was forced into your safe space.

Johnny had the bright idea to gift you a set of cutlery a few weeks ago so when he and Simon came round for dinner as they did every Thursday for the past four months, they didn’t have to bring cutlery and plates from their own place, it would already be there.

Simon said it was a bad idea but he couldn’t say no to Johnny, not with how happy he looked while he picked out some pretty baby blue plates and silver cutlery with little mushrooms painted at the end. He boasted to Simon about how much you’d love them while they stood in the queue to pay.

He was wrong.

After dinner was cooked you plated up the food no problem thinking the pretty plates were from their house. Then you opened the kitchen drawer only to hear the clutter and smash of cutlery rubbing together. The sound made a ringing pierce your ears, your hands reaching up to cover them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you. The sound you heard making you panic beyond measure, your breathing out of control as you slid to your knees.

Johnny’s smile dropped and he sprung into action using the deep pressure therapy you had told him about with your beanbag chair. Simon was quick to removed the extra plates and cutlery from where Johnny had put them and take them back to their place before returning ready to help. He knew he’d need to call John and let him know you had had an episode, but helping you came first.

So you liked constant repetition. If it made you happy, that was absolutely fine with them.

Kyle got himself hired as a barista at your favourite cafe, he learned your usual and practiced at home to make sure every morning when you stopped by on the way to work to drink your coffee and sit with your laptop for twenty minutes, you’d have the perfect drink. He made absolutely sure that it tasted the same every single time. No change.

After a couple of months of smiles and waves here and there he finally got you to open up. Baby steps. A little at a time and now Kyle was taking his twenty minute break at your table while you typed up something for work. You always worked so hard. But he managed to get a few sentences out of you each time and it made his heart sing.

And last but not least, John became your new boss after your last one mysteriously got caught for money laundering. Mr Price was an amazing boss, he didn’t ask for much and was always giving you big opportunities that you’d only ever dreamed of. You had been promoted twice since he became the CEO.

You were now executive editor under him as the chief editor at one of the best publishers in the country. Pirons Classics, number two in the UK and number four in the World. To say the guys were proud that you worked there in the first place was an understatement. Their smart girl.

He called you sweet nicknames and brought you lunch everyday. The same thing, a pesto and cheese sandwich and a snack of your choosing from the vending machines. You don’t remember when it started but you were always too shy to say anything so it became a regular thing.

If you were to sit and think real hard about the situation you would realise how changes had been introduced into your life ever since the four of them appeared. But they were subtle changes and you genuinely couldn’t remember a time when these changes weren’t normal. On top of that, these four men were the only people besides yourself, that you felt comfortable, relaxed and content around.

So for the first time you don’t sit and think, for the first time you just let it happen and you don’t notice the difference.

Johnny and Simon were more involved with you than the other two. They were the closest to you currently with the status of your best friends which Johnny most certainly bragged to the other two about. You had known them for almost a year now and they didn’t exactly hide their romantic relationship but didn’t exactly flaunt it either.

You had found it kinda hot when you saw them kiss and even though it was unusual for you, you luckily managed to keep your mouth shut about it.

You had no idea they had noticed.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Silent Night, Whispered Secrets

Christmas Special 🎄

Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 4.5K words

The office is eerily quiet on Christmas Eve, with only the soft hum of your computer and occasional clicking of the keyboard breaking the silence. Most of your coworkers left hours ago to start their holiday celebrations, but you're still here finishing up year-end reports. The only other person crazy enough to still be working is Yunjin, whose office is just down the hall from yours.

You've known Yunjin for the two years you've worked at the company. She started a few months before you and helped show you the ropes when you first joined. You hit it off right away, drawn to her quick wit and infectious laugh. She's the kind of person who can find humor in even the most mundane office situations, making even boring meetings more bearable with her subtle eye rolls and whispered commentary.

Physically, Yunjin is absolutely your type, though you've tried not to think about her that way given your professional relationship. She has a classic beauty about her, with delicate features framed by stylish glasses that give her a sexy librarian vibe. Her lips are full and naturally pouty, the kind that make you wonder what they'd feel like pressed against yours. She typically dresses conservatively for the office in blazers and pencil skirts, but you can tell she has a slim, petite figure with small breasts that suit her frame perfectly.

The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor pulls you from your thoughts. Looking up, you see Yunjin leaning against your doorframe, her jacket discarded and the top button of her white blouse undone.

"Still at it?" she asks with a sympathetic smile. "You know Santa won't come if you're still awake doing spreadsheets."

You can't help but chuckle. "Pretty sure Santa skips over office buildings anyway. What's your excuse for still being here?"

"Same as you probably - trying to get everything wrapped up before the holiday break." She walks into your office and perches on the edge of your desk, something she's done countless times during your friendly chats. "But I'm officially taking a break and you should too. We've been at this for hours."

The familiar scent of her perfume - something light and floral - wafts over as she settles next to you. You realize she's right about needing a break; your eyes are starting to blur from staring at the screen.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you concede, leaning back in your chair. "Most of this can wait until after Christmas anyway."

"Exactly! Speaking of Christmas..." She swivels to face you more directly, crossing her legs. "What are your plans? Big family gathering?"

"Pretty much the usual - heading to my parents' place tomorrow morning. Mom always goes overboard with the decorations and Dad pretends to complain about it while secretly loving every minute." You smile thinking about your family's traditions. "What about you?"

"Similar, minus the over-the-top decorations. Though my mom does make enough food to feed a small army." She pauses, seeming to consider something before asking, "Will your girlfriend be joining you?"

The question catches you off guard. In all your conversations, she's never directly asked about your relationship status before. "No girlfriend to bring along," you answer honestly. "Flying solo this holiday season."

"Really?" Her eyebrows raise slightly above her glasses frames. "I find that hard to believe. A guy like you, single at Christmas?"

There's something different in her tone now, a slight flirtatiousness that makes your pulse quicken. "What do you mean a guy like me?" you ask, playing along.

She adjusts her glasses in that adorable way she does when she's about to say something bold. "Oh, you know... Smart, funny, easy on the eyes." Her lips curve into a playful smile. "The kind of guy who probably has women fighting over who gets to kiss him under the mistletoe."

Your mouth goes dry as you process this shift in dynamic. Is Yunjin actually flirting with you? After two years of carefully maintained friendship?

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you," you reply, testing the waters. "Surprised you don't have a line of guys waiting to take you home for the holidays."

She laughs softly, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "Maybe I'm waiting for the right guy to ask." Her eyes meet yours with unmistakable intent now. "Someone who already knows me... understands me..."

The air between you feels charged with possibility. You've imagined moments like this before but always pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to complicate your friendship or work relationship. But now, with her looking at you like that...

"Yunjin..." you start, not quite sure what you're going to say.

She slides off your desk and extends her hand to you. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

You don't hesitate for a second, turning off the computer and getting up from your chair. Your heart pounds as you take her hand, letting her lead you out of your office and down the darkened hallway. Her fingers are soft and warm interlaced with yours. She guides you past the break room and copy area to a section of the building you rarely visit.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though you're happy to follow her anywhere at this point.

"Somewhere private," she answers mysteriously. "Where we can talk without worrying about security cameras."

She leads you into what appears to be a storage room, flicking on a small lamp that casts a warm glow over boxes of office supplies and forgotten furniture. It's cozy in an odd way, like a secret hideaway.

Yunjin turns to face you, still holding your hand. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and you can see her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"I need to tell you something," she says. "Something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the courage."

You squeeze her hand encouragingly, heart racing with anticipation.

"I have feelings for you," she continues. "Real feelings, beyond friendship. I think I have for a while now but I was afraid to admit it, afraid of ruining what we have. But being here tonight, just the two of us... I couldn't keep pretending anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you for a moment before you respond. "Yunjin, I had no idea you felt that way. I mean, I've definitely thought about you like that but I always told myself it was just a crush, that it would pass..."

"And did it? Pass?" she asks softly.

You shake your head. "No. If anything, it got stronger the more I got to know you. You're amazing, Yunjin. Smart and funny and beautiful... I love how you can make me laugh even on the worst days. How you always remember little details about things I've told you. How passionate you get when talking about things you care about..."

She steps closer, reaching up to touch your face. "We've been through a lot together, haven't we? All those late nights working on projects, lunch breaks spent venting about difficult clients, celebrating each other's wins..."

"Yeah," you agree, letting your free hand rest on her waist. "I guess it's natural that feelings would develop. We just... fit."

"We do," she whispers, then rises on her tiptoes to press her lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if you're both still afraid of crossing this line. But then she sighs against your mouth and something ignites between you. Your arms wrap around her waist as hers circle your neck, pulling each other closer as the kiss deepens.

Her lips are even softer than you imagined, moving against yours with growing passion. You can taste mint on her breath, like she'd been preparing for this possibility. The thought makes you smile against her mouth.

"What?" she asks, pulling back slightly.

"Nothing," you murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw. "Just happy."

She tilts her head to give you better access to her neck, letting out a small moan when you find a sensitive spot. "Mmm... want to know what would make me happy?"

"Tell me," you breathe against her skin.

"Letting me give you your Christmas present." Her hands slide down your chest as she speaks.

You pull back to look at her, seeing desire burning in her eyes behind those sexy glasses. "What kind of present?"

Instead of answering, she starts unbuttoning her blouse, revealing smooth pale skin and a simple white bra underneath. Your breath catches as she reaches behind to unhook it, letting the garment fall away.

You can't take your eyes off Yunjin's exposed chest as she straddles your lap in the dimly lit storage room. Her breasts are small, almost flat against her slim frame, but they're absolutely perfect to you. Each one is barely a handful, topped with delicate pink nipples that have hardened in the cool air. The sight makes your mouth water with desire.

"I know they're not much to look at," she says shyly, noticing your intense gaze. "Most guys prefer bigger..."

You silence her self-consciousness by cupping both small mounds in your hands, feeling their subtle weight. "These are exactly what I want," you tell her firmly. "Perfect little tits that fit my hands just right."

She shivers as you run your thumbs over her nipples, watching them stiffen further under your touch. The rosy buds stand out proudly now, begging to be sucked. You lean forward slowly, maintaining eye contact as you take one peak between your lips.

"Ohhh..." Yunjin moans softly as you begin to suckle her breast. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you against her chest as you worship her sensitive flesh.

You alternate between gentle suction and firm licks, paying attention to how she responds. When you graze your teeth lightly across her nipple, her whole body trembles and she lets out a gasp. You do it again, a bit firmer this time, and are rewarded with a breathy "Yes..."

Your hands knead her small breasts as you continue lavishing attention on her nipples. Despite their size, or perhaps because of it, they seem incredibly sensitive. Every touch, every lick, every gentle bite makes her squirm and moan in your lap.

You pull back slightly to admire your work - her nipples are now swollen and deep pink from your ministrations. "So responsive," you murmur, blowing cool air across the wet peaks and watching them tighten further. "I love how sensitive these little tits are."

"Only for you," she whimpers as you dive back in, this time taking as much of her small breast into your mouth as possible. There's something incredibly arousing about being able to almost fit the entire mound between your lips.

You suck firmly while massaging her other breast, feeling her nipple press hard against your palm. Her hips begin to rock subtly in your lap as her arousal builds. The movement makes your already hard cock throb with need, but you're determined to thoroughly worship these perfect little tits first.

Moving to her neglected breast, you trace circles around the areola with your tongue before capturing the straining nipple between your teeth. A sharp gasp escapes her lips as you apply just enough pressure to toe the line between pleasure and pain.

"Oh god," she pants, grinding more insistently against you now. "That feels so good... I never knew my breasts could be this sensitive..."

You hum against her flesh, the vibrations making her shudder. Your hands slide around to grip her ass, helping guide her movements as she rocks in your lap. Each roll of her hips makes her small breasts sway slightly, a hypnotic sight that has you alternating between watching and tasting.

"Such perfect little tits," you murmur between licks and kisses. "Love how they bounce... love how responsive they are... love how they fit in my mouth just right..."

Your praise seems to turn her on even more. She arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against your face as you continue your oral assault on her sensitive peaks. Her breathing becomes more ragged with each passing minute.

You bring your hands back to her breasts, squeezing them together so you can move back and forth between nipples more easily. The sight of her small mounds pressed together, topped with those pretty pink nipples, is incredibly erotic. You lap at both peaks simultaneously, making her cry out.

"Please," she whimpers, though you're not sure what she's begging for. You respond by sucking harder, drawing one taut nipple deep into your mouth while pinching and rolling the other between your fingers.

Her whole body is trembling now as you continue your relentless attention. You can feel how wet she is through her panties as she grinds against your lap, seeking friction. The combination of your mouth on her sensitive breasts and the pressure against her clit seems to be driving her wild.

"I think..." she gasps, clutching your head tighter. "I think I might... from just this..."

The revelation that she might cum just from breast play spurs you on. You double your efforts, sucking and licking and nibbling at her swollen nipples while your hands massage the soft flesh of her small breasts. Her movements become more erratic as she chases her pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage between sucks. "Let go for me... show me how sensitive these perfect little tits are..."

With a sharp cry, she does just that. Her body goes rigid in your lap as waves of pleasure wash over her, triggered by nothing more than your mouth on her breasts. You continue gently sucking and licking through her orgasm, prolonging the sensation until she weakly pushes your head away, too sensitive to take any more.

"I've never..." she pants, looking down at you with wide eyes. "That's never happened before..."

You press soft kisses to her flushed chest, admiring how her nipples are now deep red and slightly swollen from your attention. "Just proves what I said - these are perfect."

With a smile Yunjin slides down your body with a hungry look in her eyes, her delicate fingers work at your belt buckle as she settles between your legs, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Now I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel," she purrs, finally freeing your throbbing cock from its confines. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight. "So big..." she whispers, wrapping her small hand around your shaft.

You groan at the first contact, already rock hard from getting her off with just breast play earlier. She starts with slow, exploratory strokes, learning the feel of you. Her other hand cups your balls gently, rolling them between her fingers as she studies your reactions.

"Tell me if it's good, okay?" she asks softly, her hot breath ghosting over your tip. "I want this to be the best you've ever had."

Before you can respond, she leans forward and drags her tongue from base to tip in one long, slow lick. Your cock twitches in her grip as she swirls her tongue around the head, gathering the bead of precum that's formed there.

"Mmm," she hums, savoring the taste. "Already so excited for me..."

She continues teasing you with her tongue, tracing the prominent veins along your shaft and paying special attention to the sensitive spot just under the head. Her hand keeps up a steady stroking motion, spreading her saliva along your length.

When she finally takes you into her mouth, you have to fight not to thrust up into that wet heat. She starts shallow, just sucking on the tip while her tongue works against the underside. Her eyes flutter closed as she focuses on the task, clearly enjoying herself.

"Fuck, that feels good," you groan as she gradually takes more of you in. Her mouth is so hot and wet, and the suction is perfect. She hums in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your cock.

One hand wraps around what doesn't fit in her mouth yet, working in tandem with her lips and tongue. The other continues massaging your balls, occasionally trailing lower to tease your perineum. The dual stimulation has your toes curling.

She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "I love how hard you are," she says, pumping you with both hands now. "Love feeling you throb in my mouth..."

Before you can respond, she's diving back down, taking you even deeper this time. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your shaft as she bobs her head, building a steady rhythm. The wet sounds of her sucking fill the room, obscenely erotic.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not guiding her movements but just wanting to touch her. She moans around your cock in response, the vibrations making you groan. Her pace picks up slightly, switching between deep sucks and focusing on the sensitive head.

"Just like that," you encourage as she finds a particularly good rhythm. "Your mouth feels fucking amazing."

She pulls back again, this time to focus solely on your tip while her hands work your shaft. Her tongue swirls around the head before flicking rapidly against the frenulum, making your hips jerk. "Want to taste every inch of you," she murmurs before taking you deep again.

This time she doesn't stop until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there for a moment, swallowing around you, before pulling back for air. Strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock as she gasps.

"So fucking hot," you groan, watching her catch her breath. Your cock twitches in her grip, achingly hard from her skilled attention.

She smiles up at you before diving back in, this time maintaining eye contact as she works you over. The sight of her pretty lips stretched around your girth while she stares up at you with lust-filled eyes is almost too much.

Her technique varies between long, slow sucks taking you as deep as she can manage, and focusing on the tip with quick flicks of her tongue. She seems to delight in finding what makes you moan loudest, repeating movements that get the biggest reactions.

"Getting close?" she asks during another brief break, her hand never stopping its stroking motion. When you nod, she smiles. "Good. I want to taste your cum... want to swallow every drop..."

The dirty talk combined with her renewed oral assault has you right on the edge. She seems to sense this, doubling her efforts. One hand pumps your shaft while the other gently squeezes your balls. Her mouth focuses on your sensitive head, sucking firmly while her tongue works the underside.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum!" you growl, staring down at Yunjin's face as she works your throbbing cock with her skilled mouth. Her designer glasses are slightly fogged up from her heavy breathing, adding an irresistibly naughty librarian vibe to her cock-hungry expression. Those plump, glistening lips stretch obscenely wide around your thick shaft as she bobs her head with expert precision.

Rather than slow down at your warning, she doubles her efforts - taking you even deeper into her hot, eager mouth. Her full, pouty lips form a perfect seal around your cock as she sucks harder, her tongue dancing and swirling along your sensitive length. Drool runs down your balls as she services you with single-minded determination, the wet sloppy sounds of her enthusiastic sucking filling the room.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in her silky hair, accidentally knocking her glasses slightly askew. She doesn't miss a beat, continuing to worship your cock while reaching up to adjust them with one hand. The intellectual look of her wire-rimmed frames contrasts deliciously with the absolutely filthy things she's doing with that talented mouth.

Her crimson lipstick is completely ruined now, smeared all over your cock in scarlet streaks. The sight of those perfect dick-sucking lips wrapped around you, combined with her sultry gaze behind those sexy glasses, has your balls drawing up tight. She must sense how close you are because she takes you impossibly deeper, until you feel the back of her throat squeezing your sensitive cockhead.

Her nose presses against your pelvis as she deep-throats you with practiced ease, her glasses fogging up even more from her heavy breathing. The rippling sensation of her throat muscles working around your length finally pushes you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck!" you roar as your orgasm hits like a freight train. Your cock pulses violently, shooting thick ropes of hot cum directly down her eager throat. She moans in satisfaction around your spurting length, continuing to suck and swallow rhythmically as you empty yourself into her hungry mouth. Not a single drop escapes those perfect cock-hungry lips.

Even after you're completely drained, she keeps gently nursing on your sensitive head, her tongue lapping up every last trace of cum. Only when you're trembling from overstimulation does she finally release you with an obscene pop. Your cock emerges glistening with her saliva, still twitching occasionally.

She looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind her slightly steamed glasses, licking those full, swollen lips with obvious satisfaction. A thin strand of saliva and cum still connects her mouth to your cock. "Mmm, fucking delicious," she purrs, her voice slightly hoarse from taking you so deep. She gives your softening length one final kiss before sitting back on her heels.

Your legs feel weak as you watch her run her tongue over her lips again, savoring your taste. Her ruined lipstick smeared across her mouth and chin. Combined with her messy hair, fogged glasses, and the hungry look in her eyes, she's the perfect picture of debauchery.

"That was incredible," you manage to say once you catch your breath. She just grins wickedly, clearly proud of her cock-sucking skills. And rightfully so - you've never had your dick sucked with such enthusiasm and expertise before.

"I love the way you taste," she says, running one finger along her bottom lip while pushing her glasses back up her nose. "And the way your big cock feels stretching my mouth open. Makes me so fucking horny." To emphasize her point, she brings both hands up to her small breasts, squeezing them firmly through her top.

The sight of her playing with herself while looking at you with those intelligent eyes behind her frames makes your spent cock twitch with renewed interest. She notices and laughs, her hands still kneading her chest. "Already wanting more? Such a greedy boy." She leans forward to plant soft kisses along your shaft, which is already starting to harden again.

"Can't help it when you've got such perfect dick-sucking lips," you tell her, running your thumb across her plump bottom lip. She captures the digit between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth with a sultry look. The combination of her hot tongue swirling around your thumb and her glasses sliding down her nose again makes your cock throb.

"These lips were made for worshipping cock," she agrees after releasing your thumb with a wet pop. "Especially yours. I love how thick you are - really makes me work for it." She emphasizes her point by wrapping those gorgeous lips around just your sensitive head, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact through her slightly fogged lenses.

You groan at the sight and sensation. "Fuck, you really are insatiable aren't you?" Your hand finds its way back into her hair, careful not to knock her glasses off this time as you guide her movements. She starts taking more of your rapidly hardening length into her mouth again.

She pulls off just long enough to say "When it comes to sucking your cock? Absolutely." Then she's diving back down, taking you to the root in one smooth motion that has you seeing stars. Her throat contracts around you as she swallows, making you gasp.

Your grip in her hair tightens as she starts bobbing her head with renewed vigor. The wet sounds of her enthusiastic cock-sucking fill the room once again. She alternates between taking you deep in her throat and focusing on your sensitive head, her talented tongue doing incredible things that have you moaning.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise her, making her moan around your length. Her glasses fog up completely as she works your cock faster. "Love watching those pretty lips stretch around my thick cock. You were born to suck dick, weren't you?"

She responds by taking you even deeper, until her nose is pressed against your pelvis again. The feeling of her throat squeezing around your cock while she looks up at you with those big, eager eyes behind her steamed-up lenses is almost too much to handle.

"That's it, take it all like a good girl," you growl, using your grip on her hair to hold her in place for a moment. She moans and squirms, clearly loving being used like this. When you finally let her pull back for air, she gasps and immediately dives back down for more, quickly adjusting her glasses before wrapping those perfect lips around you again.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You start thrusting your hips slightly, fucking her willing mouth while she moans encouragement. The sight of your cock disappearing between those perfect cock-sucking lips over and over, combined with her sexy librarian look, has you racing toward another orgasm embarrassingly quickly.

"Gonna cum again," you warn her through gritted teeth. She responds by sucking even harder, her cheeks hollowing as she works to draw out your load. Her tongue does wicked things to your sensitive head while one hand massages your heavy balls.

This time when you explode, she pulls back just enough to catch your cum on her tongue. You watch in awe as rope after rope of hot cum paints those gorgeous lips and fills her eager mouth. Some of it lands on her glasses, making her look even more debauched. She makes a show of swallowing it all down before licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile.

"Mmm, even better the second time," she purrs, giving your sensitive cock one final kiss. Her lips and chin are glazed with a mixture of cum and saliva, her lipstick completely destroyed, and her glasses are splattered with your seed. "Well, what did you think of my blowjob? Think that lived up to being the best you've ever had?"

"Fuck yes. Your lips, your mouth, your tongue, those fucking glasses... You're perfect, Yunjin.”

Still on her knees, she reaches for the open cardboard box nearby. It’s crammed with small packs of wet wipes. She plucks one out, tearing it open with her teeth before pulling a single wipe free. As she starts cleaning her glasses, she laughs softly. “These glasses? Expensive as hell,” she says, wiping the lenses with a casual ease. “But having you cum all over me while wearing them? Fucking worth it.”

Her words make you shudder slightly, your breath catching as you watch her throw away the last used wipe, her face and glasses less messy now. She smirks, using her thumb to rub at the the forgotten bit of smeared lipstick.

When Yunjin finishes, she sighs, looking at you with those big lovely eyes. "Did you like your present?" she asks softly.

You pull her closer, crushing your mouth to hers, tasting yourself on her tongue but too far gone to care. “Best Christmas present ever,” you murmur against her lips, your hands finding her hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she melts into you.

"Merry Christmas then," she says with a playful wink, wiping her mouth delicately.

"To be honest, I've never liked Christmas as much as I do now," you tell her when your lips move away.

She laughs softly, tucking her head against your neck. "Just wait until you see what I have planned for New Year's."

You hold her close, both of you catching your breath as the reality of what just happened settles in. Outside the windows, snow has begun to fall, dusting the city in white. It's still Christmas Eve, you still have family obligations tomorrow, but right now none of that matters. All that matters is this moment, this woman in your arms, and the promise of more to come.

"We should probably head home soon," Yunjin says eventually, though she makes no move to get up. "It is Christmas Eve after all."

You press a kiss to her temple. "Five more minutes," you bargain, and feel her smile against your skin.

"Five more minutes," she agrees.

You sit there together in comfortable silence, watching the snow fall outside while your racing hearts slow to normal. Whatever happens next, you know this Christmas will be one to remember. And as Yunjin snuggles closer in your arms, you can't help but think that sometimes the best presents come when you least expect them.

The office will look different from now on, you think. The familiar halls and rooms now charged with memory - her hand in yours as she led you here, the first press of her lips against yours, the way she looked on her knees between your legs…

Finally, reluctantly, you both begin to dress. You help Yunjin button her blouse, stealing kisses between each button until she laughs and pushes you away playfully. Her hair is slightly messed up from your fingers and her lips are still swollen from their earlier activities.

She's never looked more beautiful.

"Walk me to my car?" she asks, slipping her hand into yours.

"Of course," you reply, squeezing her fingers gently.

As you make your way through the quiet building, you can't help but marvel at how much can change in a single night. Yesterday, Yunjin was just your friend and coworker. Now... now she's something more, something precious and exciting and full of possibility.

In the parking garage, she turns to face you before getting in her car. "Text me when you get home?" she asks, and you nod.

"Definitely." You pull her close for one more kiss, slow and sweet. "Merry Christmas, Yunjin."

She smiles against your lips. "Merry Christmas."

You watch her drive away, snow swirling in the headlights, before heading to your own car. As you drive home through the quiet streets, you can't wipe the smile off your face. This Christmas is already shaping up to be the best one yet.

Your phone buzzes with a text just as you're pulling into your driveway. It's from Yunjin: "Already missing those five more minutes 😘"

You reply quickly:

"We'll have to make up for lost time after the holidays."

Her response comes immediately:

"Can't wait 💕"

As you head inside, you find yourself actually looking forward to returning to work after Christmas. Who knew the office could hold such possibilities? But then again, with Yunjin involved, anything seems possible.

You fall asleep that night with thoughts of soft lips and gentle hands, of whispered confessions and promises of more to come. In your dreams, it's still snowing, and Yunjin is there, smiling at you through the white flakes, reaching for your hand.

Tomorrow will bring family gatherings and holiday traditions, but tonight belongs to the memory of her - the taste of her kisses, the sound of her moans, the feel of her skin under your fingers. It's the best Christmas gift you could have asked for, and it's only the beginning.