#they float around like bits of snow where I live

[redvinylkitty]

Summer "snow". Will you catch the fluffies with me? I wanna save them up in my fluffies jar. 🌼❤️

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--Please don't delete my caption--

[versias]

A Haunt is Where the Heart Is

The first time Bruce encountered Phantom, he was bleeding from a stab wound to the side that had missed both vital organs and armor.

“That looks bad.” The voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

The shape was barely more than an outline of a person; for a moment, Bruce worried he’d been dosed with some kind of hallucinogenic in the knife. It looked around before it shifted more into the visual range. At the same time, it drifted closer.

“Stop,” Batman growled. Then demanded: “Who are you.”

They became more and more real, and he could now see the fine-boned facial features, the grown-out hair in a shocking white, and glowing green eyes. White lashes swept down as it (they?) blinked, answering, “Phantom.”

“Is that ‘who’ or ‘what’?”

They smiled, a mischievous little light dancing in their eyes. “Bit of both, actually.”

“My wound isn’t bad enough to kill me,” Batman denied.

The being giggled, a noise that sounded like twinkling stars and made something squirm in his chest.

“I’m not a psychopomp, dude. Just trying to offer some help. I like to keep people in the world of the living.”

They knelt down, setting their gaze level with the injury, giving him the choice of accepting or not.

Tilting their head back to look up into his face, they said, “Let me help?”

He wasn’t so hurt that he couldn’t get back to the cave. But the mystery of the being was enough to keep him in the alley, stepping closer. He needed more data.

(It had nothing to do with the image of a beautiful person on their knees for him, though he might think about it later. Maybe.)

———

The next time they crossed paths, Phantom’s hair was longer. It floated freely, drifting in some ethereal wind as the being floated, parallel to the ledge.

Bruce let his boot scrape the gravel as he approached.

Phantom didn’t look. Their eyes were fixed on the sky. The blackout had coincided with a break in the perpetual cloud cover. A glittering blanket shone above and Phantom sparkled in the starlight like they were one of the stars. They were glowing the brightest they’d ever been.

“I never thought I’d get to see the stars here.” They breathed. Awe colored their voice.

Bruce glanced up. It was beautiful, but he had to admit that he preferred the shining lights of the city. Gotham was a city of shadows; without the light, the shadows didn’t dance.

He didn’t say that, though. Not when Phantom’s ecstasy was so obvious. It made him want to see the sky the way the ghost did.

“Did you come up here just to hang out with me?”

Batman grunted. “What do you know about the Park Row murders?”

There were always murders in Crime Alley, but the string of brutal killings had the hallmarks of a new serial killer.

Phantom gave him a Look.

“Want me to ask the victims? Or are you assuming all ghosts know each other, Batman?”

Batman leveled an unimpressed look at them.

“Ugh, how’d you even know I was looking into it?”

Characteristic snow pattern in security camera footage.

“I’m Batman.”

“Yeah, whatever,” they waved a lazy hand like a king dismissing their court. “I haven’t learned much. The shades of ghastly deaths like that aren’t very coherent. I can stabilize them a little, but I don’t like to do that—it prolongs their suffering, you know? Mostly, I’m just trying to help them cross over. Everything I hear is incidental.”

“Anything could help.”

Phantom tells him what they’ve heard. It is scattered and some of it might be the final delusions of the dying, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Centering the victims in his mind helps him. It also helps to hear that Phantom helped them reach some kind of peace.

“Thought you weren’t a psychopomp.”

Phantom blew a raspberry at him.

Bruce suppressed a smirk.

———

Adrenaline was still pumping through him when Phantom swept back into the room, the casing of a bomb held in one hand and the actual explosive material in the other. Just in time; Batman had finished laying out the private security hired to keep them out.

“Figured I’d just make it so the bomb couldn’t, you know, explode.”

The sound he made was an approving hum, reverberating in his chest as he stepped closer to the ghost. Normally, the cold wafting off Phantom helped bring him down when the action was over. But Phantom looked up at him through their long white lashes, playful as always. It hit his gut like a physical blow.

Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, because Phantom’s green eyes widened in surprise. Bruce swallowed the immediate anxiety, the fear of being known, and let himself reach for Phantom. They caught his hand and entwined their fingers.

“Got somewhere to put explosives?” They whispered.

“I do,” he rumbled.

“Do I get to come with you?” Excitement made their eyes sparkle.

No, I get to come with you.

———

The Batcave does have somewhere for explosives, but unfortunately there wasn’t a comfortable place for the other reason Bruce brought Phantom back with him. He considered bringing them up to his bedroom, then dismissed the thought. He was thinking with his dick, not his head. No revealing secrets while high on adrenaline and drowning in a beautiful person.

Thankfully, Phantom didn’t seem to mind when he sat at the chair before the computer and pulled them into his lap. The first press of lips to his own made him shiver. He opened his mouth and accepted the cool, slick tongue. The contrast between his own hot mouth made Phantom moan, something between pain and pleasure.

Bruce pressed his forehead against theirs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” they said. “It doesn’t hurt much; it’s just like stepping into a hot bath. And I don’t mind a little roughness.”

“You know, it occurs to me I never asked… what should I call you? I mean, pronouns-wise.”

Phantom threw their head back and laughed. Bruce resisted the urge to nip at the exposed throat.

“I use he, usually,” he said. “And please call me Danny. You?”

Bruce swallowed, looking for the right words, but Danny was quick to reassure, “No need to share your name, man. I’m in the enviable position of not having a life to disrupt if my secret identity is discovered. I’m not gonna scream ‘Batman’ though. He/him for you? Is ‘B’ okay?”

Relief. “It is. It’s perfect.”

Then he considered the rest of what he’d said. Not having a life, but didn’t deny a secret identity. Interesting. But not relevant, at the moment.

“So you’re a screamer?” His hands drifted down Phantom’s sides and around his thighs.

Phantom snickered, “Maybe. You know, if you can make me.”

It wouldn’t be easy to keep up with undead vigor, but he couldn’t back down from a challenge like that.

Bruce vowed to make him hoarse.

———

They slept together many more times after that. Phantom did get to see his bedroom and met Alfred (who referred to Danny endearingly as ‘Master Bruce’s young man’). Bruce made sure Danny knew he had somewhere safe to return to when he needed it.

He didn’t let it go further. Partly, it was about Batman. Working together once or twice was alright, but Batman couldn’t afford to have a partner. How could he ask Danny to shoulder Gotham’s darkness with him? Force him to watch Bruce throw himself into danger every night on an impossible quest?

He was already breaking Alfred’s heart. He couldn’t do the same thing to someone else. He loved Danny too much to do it to him.

God, Bruce loved Danny Phantom.

Bruce loved the way Phantom curled around him in sleep. Loved the way he arched his back and cried when he was close to orgasm. Loved how he floated a bit when he talked about space. Loved how he could always tell what Bruce needed to say, even when it got mangled between his brain and mouth.

Yet.

Phantom wasn’t… alive. Not in the way Bruce was, at least. It didn’t seem fair to ask him to stay, to spend the rest of Bruce’s life tied to him. It wasn’t like they could grow old together. Bruce would age and Phantom wouldn’t, frozen in death. Whatever power allowed him to manifest in the physical realm shouldn’t be wasted on something so… domestic as a boyfriend. A husband.

Bruce loved Danny. He nestled somewhere in his heart, fluttering against his pulse. He could keep him there without chaining him to his side. It was enough.

It had to be.

———

Danny told him he needed to attend to his duties in the Infinite Realms. He looked resigned.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Time gets weird in the Zone. I’ll come back, though. Promise.”

Danny kissed him goodbye.

Bruce tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be forever.

It felt like a lie.

———

Bruce found Dick Grayson. He tucked him under his wing. Held on too tight and pushed him away.

———

Bruce found Jason. Failed him, again and again.

———

Tim found Bruce. He didn’t deserve him, but he wasn’t leaving. It ached.

———

Bruce’s family grew, children and cousins alike gathering under the banner of the Bat. Sometimes it felt right, to stand with them and fight for a better future. Sometimes Bruce felt like he was losing his mind, losing his grip on the situation and reality. He watched his children get hurt and get back up and get knocked down again. Sometimes, it was like seeing himself. Sometimes it was alien and horrible, and he was trapped in a nightmare.

He had lovers. Women, mostly. Selina, who came and went like an alley cat, disappearing whenever she pleased.

Talia, deadly and divine in equal measure, with a touch of death about her.

He didn’t need Alfred’s knowing glances to pick up the common thread, thank you.

He was pining, not in denial.

———

Damian showed up on his doorstep, haughty and whole and real. His flesh and blood, ten years old. This was the first time he’d ever even heard of Talia having a child.

What the fuck.

———

Jason came back from the dead, dripping with rage.

Bruce wished Danny was here. He’d know what to do. He always did.

[katzu919]

okau so this idea randomly came to mind so if requests r still open may i request a one of tartaglia’s little brother whos the reader. The reader even being younger than tartaglia he could be around (18-20), he ended up falling into the abyss like tartaglia, it felt as if it was years for reader in the abyss but was maybe only a couple hours. tartaglia finds out about this and hunts down his brother and comforts him since he knows what its like in the abyss. idk if this makes sense but take ur time :) , ive seen ur page floating around for a while now and just ended up following u lmao

call of the abyss

Ajax had returned to Snezhnaya after being abroad for work. Ajax’s brother, Y/n had just turned eighteen and Ajax got to celebrate it just a few days late. Y/n and his friends went out to celebrate him finally becoming an ‘adult’.

“Oh come on!” One of his friends nudged his arm. “The night barely began!” His friends laughed. They had been hanging out in an old fort they’ve had since their younger years. The old building somehow surviving the harsh weather of Snezhnaya for multiple years.

“I promised my brother I wouldn’t stay out too late so we could hang out. And he’s rarely home and I don't want to waste this time I have with him.” He replied as I stood up from the wood plank he was sitting on.

“It’s fine man, we get it.” His other friend replied. They sat higher up, looking down on Y/n. “You good to walk home by yourself? I think we’re going to stay out.” Y/n nodded his head and crossed his arms, and annoyed look crossed his face.

“Yes I can. I’ve walked the path many times, I don’t even live far.” He huffed as he made his way out of the fort. His friends laughed at his reply as he slowly made his way towards his home.

The snow crunching beneath his feet as the wind started to pick up a bit. Y/n groaned as he pulled his coat tighter to himself. Snow started to blow up around him making it hard to see anything but a few feet in front of him. His breath started to fasten as panic set in a bit. How did the weather change so drastically so quickly? The wind pushed him around as his surroundings started to become less familiar. Did he get turned around? He swore he never changed the direction he was walking in. Did the wind slowly push him in another direction? His breath started to become more panicked but before he could take another step the floor fell beneath his feet. All at once he was falling into darkness, the wind and snow no longer anywhere to be seen or heard.

Absolutely silent.

When Y/n stopped falling he hit the ground with a groan. He didn’t know how long he was falling or even how he survived the fall. He slowly got up, his hands shaking a bit as he slowly took in his surroundings. Blue and purple surrounded him, stars littered the dark sky above him. Where was he and how was he going to get out? The hairs on the back of Y/n’s neck rose as he heard the faint sound of something making its way over. He quickly stood up, his legs and arms shook as he did so. He pushed through as he slowly ran away from whatever seemed to make its way over, not too keen on meeting the inhabitants of this strange land.

-

Y/n wasn’t sure how much time passed since he fell down here. Time seemed to move differently than it did back in Snezhnaya. Was he even in Teyvat anymore? He didn’t know. It felt like months he’s been here but his body didn’t seem to reflect that. He hadn’t felt hungry, thirsty, or tired since he fell, however long ago that was now.

The creatures that roamed this land were much different from the ones he saw up in Snezhnaya. They could use the elements without visions, or at least he didn’t think they had any. He never stayed around long or close enough to see any so as far as he was concerned they didn’t. He was determined to stay undetected as long as he could, not sure how long it would be before he could make it back to Snezhnaya, or if he even could. But sadly his presence was eventually found by the creatures and beings from this place. He ran and ran, seeking a place to hide and wait for them to stop searching for him. Y/n was even more cautious now, looking over his shoulder constantly. Scared what would happen if they happened to get their hands on him.

Oh god, his family. How long has it been? Did they think he was dead? lost to the snow, frozen somewhere? Attacked by some creature? His heart ached at the thought of what his family must be going through.

Y/n slowly curled up, trying to silent his sobs. He just wanted to go home. And as if Celestia heard his wish, he felt the cold wind of Snezhnaya blow against his back. Snow falling onto his head. He lifted his head, his tired eyes open to see the white snow that covered the land. A sob broke through him as he quickly got up but quickly froze when he heard the sound of snow crunching under someone’s feet.

-

Y/n was supposed to be home hours ago. Ajax looked at the clock, a pit formed in his stomach. Something was off. He got up from where he was sitting in the living room and walked to the front door. He grabbed his coat and left the house silently, not wanting to disturb his sleeping family.

The air was quiet as he made his way towards where Y/n was supposed to be with his friends. The farther Ajax walked, the pit in his stomach grew deeper. Something about the air seemed off. Seemed to set off warning bells in his head.

The abyss. It all came rushing back. Ajax hurried his steps, hoping what he feared was not true. That you were safe and sound. Just as his panic started to grow more, he saw a figure sitting in the snow. The familiar figure stopped all the thoughts in his head as he stopped and stared. He hesitated for just a moment before he started to rush in his brother’s direction.

Y/n flinched when Ajax got close, his heart breaking. The fear in his brother's eyes as they might. Ajax stopped in his tracks, his heart felt like it broke into a million pieces. Ajax slowly kneeled down and opened his arms, his brother only hesitating for a moment before throwing himself at Ajax. Y/n craved the touch of someone after being alone for so long. He sobbed into Ajax should as he shushed him.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. I got you.” Ajax whispered into his brother's hair. Anger started to form in Ajax. Why did his brother have to go through this? What did he do to deserve falling into the abyss?

Ajax slowly stood up with his brother in his arms. Carry him like he did when Y/n was just a baby. He rubbed Y/n’s back in soothing motions as he slowly started to walk home.

“It’s okay, we’ll get through this.” Ajax whispered to him as they walked away from the pit in the ground, oozing with an evil that Ajax hated with all his heart.

Hello! I kinda forgot how to write while writing this… hope it’s not noticeable. I’m also trying to like my writing style and be happy with it and not just quitting when i’m not instantly in love with it :p. i also write this in one sitting… anywhooo i also set up a ko-fi but do not feel like you have to send anything!! my writing is completely free and for fun (as much fun as trying to write with writers block is). Im not to sure how the abyss works even after reading through the wiki so i probably got something wrong but who cares and im also behind in the main story quest…. i’m not actually sure if people reads these notes but sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

[solarpunkani]

I think one thing that would be nice to see explored a bit more in Solarpunk art/aesthetic posts is how Solarpunk will likely look different depending on where you are, what’s feasible in that area, weather patterns, etc.

Like its almost 5am so I’m gonna be rambly but like. A lot of the most common features of Solarpunk art so far are a bit of an art-noveau type look, with lots of stained glass. Heavy emphasis on solar power and windpower and trees. In no way, shape, or form am I going to pretend this is BAD! I love this look, I think its great and inspiring and I love the color green I just.

Maybe Solarpunk doesn’t mean ‘green’ for everyone everywhere. Solarpunk might be more… yellows, and reds, and oranges. If you live in a desert, where there aren’t a lot of trees. I’m thinking places like Arizona, New Mexico, Niger, Chad, Libya. What would solarpunk fashion look like in these places—I feel like embroidered jean overalls won’t be common here. Traditional wear from these places is GORGEOUS, and I’d love to see more of a highlight on it and these biomes in Solarpunk. What would the housing look like—how would you keep cool indoors and out? I’ve seen a few ideas put into practice, but what would you dream up? How would you make them fun?

Similarly, how about coastal communities? Sure there’d be lots of green—but green may stand for seaweed just as much as it would trees. Not to mention the vibrant blues of the sky and seas, and the rainbow of colors from coral and seashells and glittering scales. What would a solarpunk community look like along the coasts of places like Florida, Hawaii, Jamaica, etc.? How are some of these places already Solarpunk? Wind and solar power could be an option, but we can also use hydropower as well—what would a solarpunk hydropower system look like in your wildest dreams? Fish-shaped spinning turbines underwater, swimming like sharks? Would houses float and bob along the water? How would gardening be handled with mostly salt water around—rain water capture would be critical, I feel—or desalination of small amounts of salt water. What would the fashion look like HERE? What does it look like already?

What does solarpunk look like in snowy places—like Alaska, Canada, Greenland, Russia? When green comes around in spring and summer, but fall and winter brings expanses of snow and ice? Solarpunk fashion here would be a LOT cozier than the solarpunk fashion on a Florida beach. I’m imagining lots of furs and layers. How would traditional practices be used to stay safe and warm, how would energy be captured and stored during long and dark winters? Would communities here be more nomadic, traveling further south during the coldest months, or would they stay where they are and construct homes that easily stay warm with little output?

Its actively 5am now so if I don’t make sense by all means. I guess I don’t make sense. But this has been on my mind for a few days now and I guess as we get closer to Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, this can be a fun and interesting thing to keep in mind! Let this inspire your art, your music, your fashion, your stories, your musing, and how you reach out to others about the ideals of Solarpunk.

[groceryreceiptss]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | j.p.

james potter x reader | word count : 7.2k | requested

↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘

summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)

contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!

a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )

credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)

───────────────────────

The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.

This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.

This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.

You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment. 

Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.

You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.

Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.

"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.

"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”

"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"

"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."

"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"

And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"

But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.

"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’

"I look forward to reading it."

You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.

He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.

James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his. 

And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.

His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.

How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.

Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.

If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.

"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.

"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."

"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.

"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.

The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.

After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.

He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who are you going with to the dance?"

"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."

"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.

You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."

"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded. 

You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”

James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.

The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.

You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?

Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.

What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."

You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"

James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.

"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.

He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"

"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"

"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.

"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”

Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"

"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.

You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."

He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"

"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.

"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."

You couldn't say that you disagree.

"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?" 

"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"

He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?" 

"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"

He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.

"It's cold," you argued.

"I have an extra coat if you want double."

"It will be very crowded."

"Then we'll find some place no one knows."

"That's impossible."

"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.

You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."

"Consider it done." 

──────────────────∘

Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.

As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.

"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"

"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"

You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"

"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.

"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.

"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.

"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”

"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!" 

With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out. 

You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?" 

He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"

You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.

“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”

"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"

"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you. 

"Two…”

“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store. 

You and James had many traditions. This was one of them. 

The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.

It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before. 

Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.

You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.

You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left. 

You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.

Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies. 

Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious. 

You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience. 

He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face. 

You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?” 

“What’s new?” 

“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.” 

“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.” 

You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”

“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?” 

“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.” 

“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.” 

You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly. 

He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.” 

Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.  

James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile. 

You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.

A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone. 

"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?" 

He groaned. “Not this again.  You're trying not to laugh." 

"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."  

"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.

"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows. 

He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."

“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”

A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur. 

He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it. 

The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist. 

His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up. 

He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it. 

"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised. 

"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it. 

"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged. 

He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius." 

You snorted. "What?" 

"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."

"I'd give money to see that." 

"Would never let that happen in a million years."

“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.” 

“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all. 

You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.

A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"

He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"

Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?

"Well, yes!"  you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."

He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.

"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."

"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."

After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.

It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.

He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.

"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"

He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."

On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.

James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?

“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.

“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.

"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.

The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.

There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps. 

His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.

There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.

It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?

There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.

You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.

From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.

To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.

How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.

And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.

You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.

Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.

James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.

It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.

“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.

You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.

You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!

Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.

“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie. 

He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.

Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.

You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.

“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.

“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat. 

“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”

You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.

“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair. 

“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.  

“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.

You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."

"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.

"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.

James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.

You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him. 

“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”

“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.

He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"

You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.

"We shall."

───────────────∘

James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.

He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again. 

"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.

"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.

"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.

You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"

He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"

Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.

"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.

"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."

"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"

He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though." 

Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”

He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.

“Hey, that wasn’t-”

“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.

“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“

Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.” 

About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”

“No. But that depends actually.”

“You’re talking in riddles.” 

“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.

You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.

“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something? 

He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”

You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him. 

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.

A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything. 

“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?"

You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.

But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.

You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.

He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”

He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?

You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.

But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with. 

“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”

He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit. 

“Yeah, I do.”

───────────────────────

[soft-shake]

before i go way down

Winter was one of the seasons that Shadow preferred. Overall he liked spring more, but winter always had a feeling of comfort. It made his legs and hands ache, but he still felt more welcomed by the freezing temperatures. Currently, it is the cusp of spring, the tail end of the winter season. The weather is unpredictable, with it being warm one day and then freezing the next.

It makes Shadow tired, and causes his body to pulse in pain. Shadow resided on the balcony of their apartment, a good size for the three of them. It was spacious enough for Omega to sit with him and Rouge, usually when it was a good temperature for the sensitive bat.

It was freezing at the moment, and while he had fantastic temperature regulation, it didn’t stop him from shivering slightly. He warmed himself up by sipping his black tea, which he was emptying slowly. 

He was alone for a week while Omega and Rouge were out on separate missions, and he has felt their absence more than usual. Omega wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Rouge was supposed to be home sometime tonight.

Shadow didn’t have many missions during the winter, or at least he tried to avoid them. Cold irritated him when he was stuck outside for long stretches of time, plus it just made it harder to move. His body would just ache and hurt, and it’s not necessarily convenient to have his cane or a wheelchair while doing a stealth mission.

Today, however, wasn’t too bad. He could move somewhat effortlessly, but he still took some pain medication here and there. His cane was somewhere in the apartment, put in a spot where he could get it without much trouble. 

The cane itself wasn’t anything special, just  a plain black cane with some stickers he allowed Cream to go crazy with. When he had shown up to Sonic’s with it for the first time, the blue hedgehog just acted like nothing was abnormal. He did comment on it being boring, but that was expected. It made Shadow feel normal. Well, as normal as he could feel.

Shadow sighs, the loneliness really setting in.

The past week was exhausting, full of bad days and restless nights, filled with awful and miserable nightmares that made it hard for him to look in the mirror. He knew being holed up in the apartment was bound to make it worse, but he didn’t have much to do outside of sit around and complete paperwork. He played some games that Rouge picked out for him, but other than that the week was uneventful.

Sonic reached out a couple of times to check in, which Shadow appreciated. He wasn’t going to tell him that, though. 

The breeze felt good on his fur, even if it hit his skin with a bite. The blanket he brought out wasn’t enough, thinking back on it. Shadow blew his breath into the air, seeing it float away into the chilly wind. He smiled a small smile, taking a sip from his tea.

Placing the mug down on the table from his lap, Shadow stretched his limbs, savoring the slight stretch and yawning. Really, he shouldn’t even be tired. He spent all day watching some of the movies in his “must watch” catalogue. 

He did enjoy the relief from not wearing his skates. They were heavy, and sometimes the weight of them were overbearing on his legs. He had them somewhere; the apartment was a bit of a mess. (At least to his standards). 

He felt something wet on his nose. Snow. The forecast did mention it. That was his signal to go inside with the warmth, where he wouldn’t be agitated by the dampness on his fur. The hedgehog gets up on aching legs, mug in hand, and limps back inside through the sliding door.

He makes sure said door is sealed shut and locked before turning his attention to the apartment. The living room wasn’t messy, but it could do with a tidying up. His room was most likely worse, since he burrowed himself in there most of the week. 

Cleaning was always somewhat therapeutic for him. He preferred a clean home, which was most likely due to the impeccable cleanliness of the ARK. The cleaning hopefully will allow the hedgehog to reset his brain. 

He works his way through the kitchen, tidying up any crumbs that were left, and cleaning off some of the dishes he used within the past two days. He decides to leave Rouge and Omega’s rooms alone, since it really wasn’t his space to enter. 

Shadow folds any blankets, neatens the pillows, and wipes the coffee table, his brain pleasantly buzzing with preoccupation. He mentally prepares for his own room, knowing it’s worse off. 

When he does eventually get there, Shadow finds it really could have been worse. There was a singular bowl and spoon, and a mug that he had forgotten to put into the sink. The bed was unkempt, but that was the easiest fix. 

Shadow hoped that Rouge would be home soon. He probably wouldn’t say it, but he did miss her. The apartment was too quiet.

“Shadow?” Rouge’s voice carries through the apartment, and it bounces off the white walls. He doesn’t like that they’re white, but they can’t paint it, which upsets him.

He thinks it reminds him too much of the ARK.  

“In my room!” He calls out with a rough voice, raspy from days of no use. He hasn’t spoken a full sentence in a while, but it does feel nice to talk to someone. Once he finishes the final touches on his room, Shadow looks outside his window. It’s snowing in thick flurries, covering the landscape in a thin blanket of snow.

It’s not very much, and it’ll definitely melt through the night. He hopes Cream enjoys it. 

Shadow feels the chill just by looking outside, so Shadow decides to put on his favorite hoodie. The material was soft, and the color reminded him of Maria’s dress. Maybe that was why he wanted it.

Eventually, he makes his way to the living room after a minute of adjusting his spines. No wonder Sonic barely wore anything, and why sometimes Amy would irritatedly adjust her dresses. 

When he entered the now tidy space, Rouge was nowhere to be seen. For some reason, it causes a pit to well in his chest, anxiousness creeping in. She’s just unpacking, he tells himself. It’s just one of those days. 

Rouge emerges from her bedroom, in a simple silk blue sleep dress. It was a very deep blue, a color Shadow thought looked pretty on her. But then again, Rouge looked good in everything. Even without makeup, which she currently doesn’t have on.

The bat is quiet, which is uncharacteristic of her. It makes the knot in his chest tighten. The mission must have been grueling. Shadow suddenly feels guilty for not going with her. 

“Don’t brood, sweetie. It’s not a good look on you.” She says teasingly, waving him off. Shadow’s ears flatten out of embarrassment. She always knew what he was feeling without even looking at him. It filled him with joy almost as much as it scared him. The bat shuffles to the couch, the tiredness evident on her face. 

“Hungry?” 

Shadow nods, sitting beside her but choosing to speak. Despite barely doing anything, he’s exhausted. The painkillers he took earlier have definitely kicked in.

“Chinese food?” Shadow nods again. Rouge orders from her phone, and Shadow thinks about things they can watch to pass the time, and it occupy his busy brain. 

He settles on Spirited Away for now, since it’s something that makes him feel better on bad days, plus he and Rouge have seen it enough times to probably recite the script. 

Surprisingly, he stumbled on the film on his own. He wanted to try it, and Rouge had somehow never seen it.

“I don’t really do cutesy movies.” She had said. She ended up watching the whole thing with him. 

After that night, Shadow looked to Ghibli films for comfort, especially when it was he, Rouge, and Omega. Despite Omega not being home, Shadow let himself enjoy the company he had.

The weight of his absence was noticeable, and Shadow found himself straining his ears to hear Omega’s whirs and comments, despite him being gone. He could really go for a nap on Omega’s shoulder right about now. 

“The food’s ordered,” Rouge says mostly to herself. “Did you want anything else?”

“I’m okay.” 

If Rouge is worried, she doesn’t show it, just relaxes her body next to him. He really doesn’t feel too bad physically, just overtly anxious for an unknown reason. The worst yet, there might not be a reason at all. 

He yawns again, and melts into the couches warm embrace.

                       .      .      . 

He must have dozed off at some point, because the movie progressed much further. It was about halfway through, so it must have been a brief nap. His nose is alerted to the scent of fresh food, and his stomach growls comically loud. Rouge laughs at it, and Shadow feels himself smile. 

When the bag of food is placed on the coffee table, Shadow realizes how hungry he truly is. He hasn’t eaten much, mostly because he hadn’t had the energy to grocery shop. Plus, food sometimes tended to be a challenge. But he feels hungry enough now to eat plenty. 

“How was the mission?” Shadow knows the answer, but he can’t help but ask. She does the same for him. She sighs heavily and stretches her wings, and he notices her wince from the strain. 

“God, it sucked. Flying the entire time was a pain, and I sprained a wing.” She says annoyedly, and Shadow reassures himself it’s not aimed at him. Doesn’t stop his mind from racing, but it’s a win in his book. 

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t his fault, he knows that. But he had the overwhelming urge to say it. Rouge huffs a laugh and gently bonks her head to his. 

“Don’t be, it’ll be fine in the morning.” Shadow smiles in understanding, despite still thrumming with anxiety. It probably will be fine tomorrow. 

The snow was slowing down from what he can see out of the corner of his eye, which most likely meant that it would stop soon. No wonder he felt gross today.  

“How was your week?” He hears Rouge ask him and redirects his focus to her. He thought about his answer. It wasn’t too bad, but it really could have been better. 

He shrugs. “It was okay. Just very lazy.” He decides to leave out the less fortunate parts.

It’s not important, and he doesn’t want to sour the warm mood with the gruesome things his brain conjures up. 

“Anything from Blue?” Her voice is laced with a teasing smile, but she doesn’t try to hide her genuine curiosity. He pretends he doesn’t blush.

“He checked in once or twice. I think he’s worried about me.” Shadow says and mentally kicks himself for being too honest. It’s not that big of a deal, Rouge isn’t very judgemental. At least towards him. There’s a small silence that really doesn’t do well for his racing thoughts. 

“Does he need to be worried?” She presses, no longer smiling, but still reassuring somehow. Shadow breathes out, staring at the ceiling in thought. Shadow doesn’t think he’s worthy of worrying over, he’s gone on this long without being fussed over.

But Sonic and Rouge don’t fuss. Not really. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He says honestly. Rouge hums in understanding, and puts her noodles down to lean back against the couch. It frustrates him sometimes, not knowing how to feel about his own emotions.

He doesn’t know if he is okay. He wants to be, but he has no idea how he’ll be tomorrow. She looks at him and seems to ponder for a moment. 

“It’s okay to not know. Sometimes you just can’t put it into words.” She says, her ears twitching with anxiety. She gets anxious when it comes to giving reassurance, it’s not in her comfort zone. His chest fills with emotion for her, because of the fact she’s trying.  

Rouge is probably right, he really doesn’t have an exact name for his feelings, and he can’t verbalize them the right way without it sounding incredibly concerning. He breathes in sharply, his throat tightening for an unknown reason.

It was times like this when he missed Maria the most. Rouge takes this as a sign to lean a bit closer to him. 

Shadow sinks into the warmth of Rouge, feeling the quilt on him and the bat get tighter around the two of them. They sit in silence as Spirited Away ends, and Rouge decides to put on Howl’s Moving Castle next. Shadow is still anxious, and his heart is beating a bit too fast.

Rouge takes it upon herself to clean up the mess from their dinner as the film progresses, and Shadow drowns out the sound of dishes being washed.

She makes her way back to the couch after what feels like ages and gets settled next to him once more. He rests his head on her shoulder and debates bringing up their conversation again. 

"I really don’t know." He admits. She doesn't stir, just sits and absorbs the knowledge. Eventually, he feels her breath in sharply, as if debating what to do next.

He wants to apologize because he doesn't want her to lose sleep over him. He doesn't want her to think of him differently. 

"That's okay," She says, her hand holding his with care. "No one needs you to know everything, hon. I don't think you're weak for it, just like how you wouldn't think I'm weak for it." She says it so simply, like it's an obvious answer. Like he should know that.

Shadow was never told that. Gerald wasn't a great parent; never outwardly abusive, but Shadow remembers being brushed off by him and medical staff often.

He wasn't supposed to have health problems, or even mental health problems. He was just made to save Maria. He didn't, and now he feels like he's lost his purpose. 

"I'm sorry." 

"For what, dear?"

"For being high-maintenance." He doesn't have any other way of saying it. There isn't another way. Shadow feels Rouge turn to look at his sad form, jostling his body. He tries not to whine as the cold seeps into the blanket where he was warm.

"Sweetie, you aren't high-maintenance," she stares at him with a confused and worried expression, her brows knitted together. "You just need more help. That's nothing to be ashamed of," She squeezes his hand that is still in her own as she smiles reassuringly. “It’s okay to need help.”

He fights the urge to apologize again, knowing she’ll look at him funny.

They settle back again into the couch, and Shadow feels a bit more at ease. Sometimes though, he wonders why Rouge is so kind to him.

She's very different in front of everyone else, and part of him is happy she can break the façade with him and Omega. The other part of him is worried that he's being pitied instead of being cared for, but he knows he isn’t

He pushes it out of his mind.

                     .           .         .                                                                                              

He doesn��t know how long he and Rouge stayed on the couch, but it must have been a while.

The two are snuggled closely, the TV on but nothing playing. It really does shock him how much he loves these small moments. 

The apartment is silent save for the wind outside, and the sound of the bustling city. It was some of the best rest he’d had all week, his mind blissfully clear of nightmares and fear. Shadow, still groggy, thought briefly to his bed, but he really was comfortable. 

His joints ached a little, but he wasn’t really surprised about that. Sleeping on a couch isn’t the best experience.

Rouge only stirs slightly, most likely from the movement that Shadow makes as he gets in a better position. He’s stiff all over, and the couch being small makes it hard for him to be completely comfortable.

He likes having Rouge close, it makes him feel safer.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp buzzing beside him, where his phone sat on the coffee table. Shadow doesn't get up to look right away, his body is too comfortable for moving, and risking Rouge waking up.

He knows that he needs to look, it could be G.U.N sharing a late file, or even requesting him for a mission. He really hopes not. 

After a few moments, he reached his arm to get the phone and check whatever notification disturbed him.

Shadow doesn't have many apps, he found no use for them, but he liked the ones he did have. He was more surprised to see that Sonic had messaged him, rather than G.U.N. 

Sonic: do u wanna hang tmrw?

It wasn't unusual for Sonic and him to hang out, but it was unusual for the blue hedgehog to text him at this hour.

Sure, Shadow texted Sonic at night whenever he needed help sleeping, but Sonic never was the one to reach out to him first. 

It made Shadow stiffen with anxiety. What if something was wrong somehow? He filed the thought for later, too tired to work himself into a frenzy. His curiosity about what the blue hedgehog had planned overrode any other emotion. 

Shads!:  What will we be doing?

Sonic:  idk just hang out ig

Shads!: Okay. Do you want to meet somewhere?

Sonic: the coffee shop by ur place is fine, i thot youd wanna get out of the house :))

It was oddly sweet, and it made Shadow's chest swell with emotion. Sonic was very caring when he needed to be, and knew that Shadow most likely had a bad week.

Sonic somehow had a sixth sense for his friends and those he cared for. He was endlessly patient, which was a gift and a curse. Shadow is always unnerved by it, especially because he literally tried to take over the world. Several times. 

When he asks why, Sonic just brushes it off, and says something about how people deserve second chances. 

Shadow has a hard time believing that. Some people don’t. 

Despite his anxieties, Shadow has been wanting to see Sonic. He won’t admit it to anyone, but he misses the blue hedgehog more than he likes to. 

Shads!: I'd like that. Around 12?

Sonic:  you got it boss 

Shadow decides to ignore the excitement for seeing Sonic in favor of much needed rest. He wants to be at least semi lucid. 

Rouge will most likely act calm and collected, but he knows she’ll be happy he’s up and moving, especially after being cooped up all week. She also will be happy to have the place for herself for a bit. She really values her alone time. 

Today was alright. Hopefully tomorrow will be much better. 

For now, though, he sleeps.

[minisugakoobies]

Day 5 ❄️ JHS

Kinks: praise kink, Christmas cookies

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: holiday, smut, Brother's Best Friend!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, just some good ol' fashioned fingerbanging in the kitchen, a bit of exhibitionism, praise kink, maybe a touch of sub/dom between reader and Hoseok, once again I am writing Stoner!Hobi with the addition of stoner himbos Joon Tae and JK, egregious use of the word 'cookies' as metaphor for reader's 🐱

Word Count: 3K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

A/N: I wrote this one in one shot, in a fugue state after watching Hobi's 2022 MAMA performance. Please picture that Hobi here. 🥴

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Day 4 ❄️ Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 6

Grey snow slushes under your boots as you slowly make your way home from the bus stop. Another double shift down. Working as a server around the holidays is miserable. Between the irate shoppers making non-stop demands and the incessant Christmas music blasting through the overhead speakers, it’s enough to turn anyone into a Scrooge. 

But it’s fine. You’ll live. Just a few more days and the holidays will be behind you. And so will all these double shifts, hopefully. You’ve been saving up so you can have enough for the first and last month’s rent on a tiny little studio apartment a few blocks from here. A fresh start to the new year, in a place of your own. Where you can enjoy some peace and quiet for once. 

A place free from the chaos that greets you as you slip your key into the lock of your current home and swing the door open. Smoke floats past you into the hallway. Scrunching up your face, you peer past the clouds to find, as always, your twin brother and his friends crowded around the living room tv, absorbed in a mission in some stupidly loud, obnoxiously violent video game, laughing and shouting and throwing elbows (and occasionally, a fist or two). 

“About time you got home,” your brother calls out as you peel off your boots and puffer coat, hanging the latter on the broken rack by the door. Namjoon said he’d replace that four months ago when he and his friends broke it during a particularly raucous game of flip cup. You know he’s waiting for you to do it. You’re always the responsible one around here. 

“I told you I was working a double,” you remind him, rolling your eyes. He never listens. 

The others gradually realize you’re standing there. It’s like watching the world’s slowest wave undulate around the room. First Jungkook spots you from beneath his bucket hat and lifts a hand. A few seconds later, a very sleepy-eyed Taehyung notices Jungkook’s hand in the air and raises his own. Then Hoseok, the only member of the crew sitting quietly, splayed across half the couch in his oversized tee and dark joggers, rakes his eyes over your tired frame and gives you the chillest of nods, head barely tipping as his lips quirk in a silent smile. 

Ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, you nod back. “Hey guys.” You’re too exhausted to even bother to ask them to keep it down. They would, politely, for about five minutes, before the chronic blowing through their veins made them forget. So why bother. 

You shuffle into your bedroom, strip off your uniform, pull on some fleecy pants and a long-sleeve tee, and slide on a pair of cushy slippers. The act of physically removing your day brings a sense of relief, helped along by the comfy clothes. You’d love to climb directly into bed, but you can’t. Not just yet. 

Your brother and Jungkook are locked in a double headlock when you emerge from your bedroom. Probably arguing about something that one of them did in the video game. It’s never anything serious with those guys, but it does get messy sometimes, and as you stroll through the room towards the kitchen, you quickly grab the lamp from the end table and place it on the ground before Jungkook’s arm can knock it over.

Money’s been tight for a while, not helped by the rise in rent, the rise in utilities, the rise in everything basically, so between that and the little nest egg that you’ve been stashing away, you’ve had to get a little creative with your Christmas gifts this year. As in, you’re creating them from scratch. You connect your phone to the little speaker in the kitchen and put on a relaxing playlist as you wander around the small space, pulling out ingredients and tools until you have everything you need to make your favorite cookies.

The music drifting from the speaker isn’t enough to drown out the noise from the living room, but it doesn’t matter. You fall into a trance, measuring and mixing, turning mere ingredients into food, into love. Everything else falls away. Nothing else matters but this. Baking brings you zen. 

Unfortunately, your activity does not go unnoticed. The scent of baking cookies fills the air, and before long, you have visitors. Invaders, more precisely. On the hunt for your goodies. 

As you pull the first tray out of the oven, a head pops in the doorway. A hat, really, pulled down so low you see nothing but pink lips adorned with a silver ring. “You makin’ cookies, Noona?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is that gingerbread?” a low voice drones behind Jungkook, as Taehyung follows him into the room. “Smells so good.” Namjoon is right on his heels, mouth hanging open a little as he spies the rows of perfectly baked gingerbread people resting on the warm tray. 

“Yes, it is, but these aren’t for you, so hands off, okay?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at all three men. They nod, and you turn away to put another tray in the oven. “These are for my friends. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll whip u- HEY!” 

There are three gingerbread people missing when you turn back, and all three men are chewing while exhaling loudly, trying not to burn their mouths on the hot cookies as they devour them. As they all reach for a second, you grab a spatula and swiftly slap their hands. 

Whack whack whack!

“Mmph!” Taehyung protests, rubbing his hand. He chokes down what’s left of his cookie. “That hurt, Noona!” 

“Well, maybe listen next time and you won’t get smacked!” You brandish the spatula like a wand, pointing it at each. 

A gentle chuckle sounds from the doorway, where Hoseok is propped against the frame, laughing at his friends’ pain. “Tell ‘em,” he says, crossing his arms. “They gotta learn.” 

You bite back a grin, rolling out more dough. 

“Sorry, Noona,” Jungkook mutters. “But can’t we have a couple? ‘M so hungry.” 

“That’s because you’ve been smoking all goddamn night,” you grumble, pressing the cookie cutter in. “Namjoon, if you don’t get your friends out of my kitchen right now, I’m going to try making real gingerbread people next. Starting with you, Jungkookie.” You shoot Jungkook a look, the one that he always tells you reminds him of Namjoon, even though you’re fraternal twins and don’t look a thing alike, and he holds his hands up in defense. 

“Come on. Be happy she only used the spatula, she’s lethal with that rolling pin,” your brother informs his friends as he shepherds them out of the room. “Yo, Tae-yah, you still got that hookup with that girl at the dumpling shop?”

Hoseok remains behind, studying your work. You don’t mind. Of all your brother’s friends, he’s usually the most respectful, quietly observing the mayhem around him. You’re used to the sensation of his eyes on you. 

Sometimes it’s what you think about, late at night, lying under the sheets, hand down your panties, biting your tongue to muffle your cries. Those dark eyes, watching you. 

“These are for your friends?” Hoseok finally speaks, pushing himself off the door frame. Hands in his pockets, he strolls towards you, still watching as you prepare another batch.

“Yeah. Not a lot of money for gifts this year, so…” you shrug. The heat from the oven has turned the tiny room into a sauna. Your fleecy pants feel like a terrible choice. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you look up at Hoseok, and he laughs. 

“You’ve got a bit of…” He trails off as he steps closer, and your breath catches in your chest as he raises a hand to brush across your forehead. His gentle fingertips come away with flour on them. 

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, quickly busying yourself with the dough again, cutting out enough to finish filling the tray. 

“So can I have one then?” 

“Uh…” Loud yelling from the living room tells you that your brother and the other two have started their game again. 

Hoseok leans against the counter, heart-shaped mouth set in a soft smile. “You said they’re for your friends. We’re friends, right?” 

Friends. Right. That’s what you are. “Yeah, sure.”

He beams then, a brilliant smile that flashes across his face in an instant and then disappears. Even though the cookies are identical, he takes a moment to examine the selection before picking one. 

“This one looks perfect,” he announces, and you hum distractedly, moving cooled cookies into containers. Even though you’re not looking at him, you know exactly when he bites into the cookie, because he lets out a loud moan. “Mmmmm!” 

You hum again, trying to ignore the fact that his effusive response went straight to your gut. You continue to pack the treats away, filling the tins you’ll be giving to your friends.

“Didn’t know you had this talent,” he muses, chewing thoughtfully. “Why’ve you been hiding it?” 

“I haven’t been hiding it,” you laugh, cocking an eyebrow. “I just haven’t had much time to bake lately.” 

“Yeah, I noticed you haven’t been around much,” he states, and you hope he doesn’t see the way you freeze momentarily at his words. “You’re working yourself to death. You gotta take time to relax, you know.” 

“Oh? Never heard that before, thanks for the advice,” you grin. “I just gotta get through the holidays and then I can relax.”

“In your new place, right?” He reads the surprise on your face. “Joon told us you’re moving out.” 

“Yeah, I am. I just need my own space.” 

He nods.

After sliding the last tray in the oven, you help yourself to a cookie. 

Hoseok grins. “There you go, that’s more like it. Enjoy a little treat. They’re really good.” He tilts his head. “Can I have another?” 

You have just enough cookies to fill all the tins you’d purchased, just enough batches for all of your friends. But what’s one more?

“Yeah, okay, but that’s it.” 

Again, he deliberates before choosing one. As his teeth sink in, he lets out another groan, and you clench involuntarily at the way his voice drops into a low rasp. “Fuck, these are so good!”

Is this what he sounds like all the time? Maybe it’s a good thing he’s always so quiet when he’s here. Because you’re wet enough that you can feel your underwear sticking to you as you start to clean up.

“Seriously, what do I have to do to get one of these tins?” he asks, tapping on a lid. 

You nearly bite your lip in half as you keep all your suggestions at bay. “Listen, if you really want some, I’ll just make another small batch, okay? I think I have enough ingredients left…” 

“Mmmm, you’re such a good baker! The best!” Hoseok moans around a mouthful, and you’re not sure if it’s his husky tone, or the words themselves, but something hits you like a bolt, and you swallow thickly. 

And then you whimper. 

Your eye is immediately drawn to Hoseok, like your body wants you to see his reaction even as your brain is cringing. He pauses with his hand to his mouth, little gingerbread legs in the air, and stares at you for a moment before he blinks. 

“Uh, this batch will just take a minute,” you inform him, nervously grabbing your spatula again for something to do. 

Hoseok just nods. “It’s nice of you to make some more. Thank you.” He shifts a little, comes closer so you’re between him and the counter. 

“Oh, that’s - sure. You’re welcome.” Waving your spatula to emphasize that it's nothing, you start to measure your ingredients again, hyper aware of his nearness. If you turned your head right now, you know you’d see those dark eyes watching you. It’s so tempting, but you keep pouring your flour. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” he says, but it’s really more of a purr with all that bass rumbling through his voice, and again you feel that pulse of arousal hit you, and this time you clearly whine. 

Again, you glance directly at Hoseok as the sound fades, and can’t move as his eyes slowly wander down to your breasts and back. 

“You’re always so good to us when we’re here. Always taking care of us. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He moves towards you, slow and sure, his arms coming up to grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Like tonight, cleaning up so we don’t break stuff. Or feeding us, even when you say you won’t. Such a sweet girl.” You’re gripping the spatula so hard, you think it might crack. If you leaned forward just the slightest bit, your nose would brush his. “Such a good girl.” 

For once, you’re thankful for the loud commotion in the living room, because it means your brother did not just hear you moan, “Fuck, Hoseok,” in the kitchen.

You’ve never seen such a wicked smile from your brother’s best friend as he gently peels the spatula from your hand. “You like it when I call you a good girl?” 

What is happening to you makes no sense. You spend all day getting called ‘good girl’ by patronizing customers and sexist assholes. And yet when Hoseok rolls those words around his pretty pink tongue, you become a whimpering, wet mess. 

Maybe it’s because he seems to mean it. Or maybe it’s because it’s him. Either way, you let out a strangled noise at his question, and his grin sharpens. 

“That’s what I thought.” His lips hover over yours. “Can I kiss you, sweet girl?” 

The only way to answer him is with your own lips, tilting your chin up to meet his mouth. The kiss is soft, lingering, like he’s taking his time studying your lips the way he’s always studying you with his gaze. Then he slides his tongue out, tapping at your bottom lip, and you let him in, let him press his body against yours, nearly gasping when his hard length pushes against your hip. 

“Hoseok, you want some dumplings? We’re getting some!” 

As if your brother’s voice were a bolt of lightning striking between you, you and Hoseok split apart. Hoseok looks at you for a moment, chest rising as he catches his breath. 

“Nah, man, I’m good. Got a sweet treat instead,” Hoseok shouts back. You roll your eyes and he smirks.

“Aw, did you get a cookie? That’s not fair!” Jungkook exclaims.

“Shut up, you had one too, dumbass!” With that, you hear the recognizable sound of your brother and Jungkook wrestling again. 

A sudden yank on the waistband of your pants draws your attention. Hoseok tugs again, and then he slips his fingers beneath. 

He doesn’t move his hand, just slides it into your pants, and stares into your eyes. You hold your breath as you hear another shout. 

“I want another cookie, Noona!” Taehyung yells. “Aren’t they good, Hoseok?” 

Hoseok crooks an eyebrow, just the slightest bit, and you nod. His fingers dip between your thighs, and when they find the wetness there, he hisses. “They’re so good, Tae-yah!” he declares, middle finger disappearing between your folds. 

Your hands grasp at his biceps as you pitch forward, moaning at the sudden intrusion. His finger is long enough to curl perfectly into your most sensitive spot, and he employs a rapid tickling motion that makes your knees buckle. 

“Hoseok, holy fuck!” 

Is this really happening? Are you really letting your brother’s best friend fingerfuck you in the kitchen? Where anyone could walk in and see him knuckle deep in your throbbing cunt? 

Yes, it is. And you know what? You deserve this little treat.

“Ah, sweet girl, I just love your cookies so much.” Hoseok licks his lips as he adds a second finger. “Can’t resist.”

Taehyung calls again. “Can I please have another?” 

“Focus on the game, hyung, damn!” Jungkook yells, but not a second later adds, “Can I have one too?”

The thrusting of Hoseok’s fingers makes it hard for you to think straight. Everything about this moment makes it difficult, honestly - the way his arms flex under your fingers, the way his cock keeps bumping against your thigh, the way his eyes haven’t left yours for a second. 

“Tell them no,” Hoseok whispers, thumb ghosting over your clit before he presses into the nub firmly enough to make your hips buck into his hand. “No more for them!” 

“N…” Hoseok pushes against your clit again and you see stars. “No, no cookies for you!” 

There’s a burst of laughter from the living room that perfectly covers the wail you let out as Hoseok fucks you with three fingers, hard and fast. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, free hand cupping the back of your neck to kiss you. “So sweet, so good for me.” And with that praise, you come with a muffled cry against his lips. When your cunt stops clenching around his fingers, he removes them, and brings them to his mouth to suck them clean.

You groan, lightly pushing on his chest. He laughs, taking a step back, and you suck in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. “Don’t make me grab the spatula.” 

“Think you’ll do any baking in your new place?” 

Caught off guard by the question, you furrow your brows. “Probably?” 

“Good. You better text me if you do.” His gaze roams your body again, and you swear you feel an aftershock from your orgasm. “I definitely want more of your cookies.”

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[thepenultimateword]

Old Bones Part 7

| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Surprise, Vampire has a name now. It was feeling weird having one character named and the other not.

CW: Blood, death mention

Floryn took a long drag from their canteen, the spiced rabbit's blood settling thick and warm in the hollow of their stomach. Lav had insisted on preparing a fresh pot before they headed out into the snow, and while they'd argued against it at the time, Floryn was glad to have something to combat the chill.

They curled their toes in their boots, ignoring the blend of soreness and numbness that riddled their muscles. The violent thunk thunk thunk of their heart against their ribcage was harder to pretend away. They'd lived in this wood their entire life. First in Bellwatch, a village hacked into the south edge where the earth was fertile, like a scar in the tree line. The walls backed against the Wildern, the land untamed and unwanted, and the watchmen stood eternally atop the stone, watching the endless long grass and shadowed hills for danger. A simple place for a simple life. Until that vampire climbed the wall and killed them.

Then they'd ran. No sooner had they dragged themself from the grave, and they were skirting past the drawn and burned-out body of their sire and disappearing into the dark wood.

The larger, more populated Bellbreak had no walls. No guards at the border. It sat in the middle of a glen, untouched by the Wildern's claws. Floryn simply slipped into the crowd and disappeared. But now...well this was all different. Bellbreak had been a well-acquainted idea. The world beyond on the other hand was a deep, dark unknown.

Floryn readjusted the strap of their bag as it dug into their shoulder. "Can I come up there yet?"

"Just a couple miles more," Lav replied from several strides ahead. They had insisted on scouting a few feet ahead, kicking snow over any rice piles, or walking broad arcs around iron traps.

"You've been saying that for last ten. I'm getting tired of looking at the back of your head."

Floryn wasn't entirely convinced that that wasn't part of Lav's goal. Despite the positive ending to trauma of the last several hours, they hadn't faced them head-on more than maybe twice.

"Besides you haven't come across anything in two hours, and I don't think the townsfolk would've come this far anyway, so..." Floryn darted up to Lav's side. Lav grunted mildly, a sound of mixed disapproval and assent. Floryn snuck a peak up at Lav's new face, the square jaw clenched tight and russet brows furrowed.

"I didn't expect to get out this far so fast," Floryn said idly. "I guess you don't tire out so quickly when you're dead."

"Mm."

"I didn't notice before because I've always been running. No time to think. But it's nice going at our own pace, huh?"

"Mm."

Floryn pursed their lips, kicking a spray of snow into the air in front of them. The snow crystals settled back down against the drifts as if it never happened, the only evidence being a pit of powder that had floated back against Floryn's knees. They sighed quietly, and their gaze flicked to Lav's hand, swinging at their side. Large. Calloused. Flushed from the cold.

Floryn dug the point of their fang into their bottom lip, worrying it a moment so the underside filled with bland blood. It was still strange seeing the roughened digits in place of their old slender fingers. The more they looked the more their stomach churned, but that might've been the fault of what they were thinking about doing.

Slowly, slowly, their fingers outstretched, a hand length away, a finger, half a finger. Their knuckles bumped into the meaty palm, pinky twining around Lav's little finger.

Lav reeled back as if bit, jerking their hand against their breast and whirling on Floryn with wide, startled eyes.

Floryn blinked in dumb shock, a lukewarm blush rising to their cheeks. For a moment their throat squeezed too tight to get out a word, but eventually, they managed a choked, "Sorry."

Lav's face contorted into even harsher panic.

"No!" They thrust out their hands in front of them. "You didn't do anything wrong! I wasn't...I'm not..." Their fists clenched. "I'm feeling strange. New body. You knowing. I don't...I don't think it's a good idea to get too close. At least not so soon."

"Oh." Floryn wet their already-closing wound. "Right. Of course."

"It has nothing to do with you," Lav said, forcing their avoidant eyes up for a full second. Something dark briefly swam through the yellow pools. A lie.

"No, yeah, I know that." Floryn turned brusquely forward. "I just thought maybe you wanted...after everything...but I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's okay."

"Mm." Floryn pinned their lips together. Stupid. So stupid. Lav never said they wanted anything other than companionship. The reading, the care, the protection. You could do all of that for a friend. In any case, after everything they'd gone through that night, flirtation was probably the last thing on their mind, and Floryn had selfishly pushed it. Even more selfish was the fact that they were still scared of the new body. Maybe they'd thought acting close would help them accept it faster, help them focus on the parts of Lav they still clearly saw inside. But it could've just as easily made the situation worse.

"There's an inn a half mile from here," Lav said, breaking the quiet.

"A town?"

"No. The nearest settlement is Mudfield. About half a day away still. This a roadside inn. A business that relies on the patronage of lots of travelers who would rather not camp. Good for us since the sun is about to come up."

Floryn looked up through the gaps in the foliage. The long red fingers of dawn streaked the sky; they clutched their cloak a little closer.

"Let's go a little faster," Lav said, voice calm and smooth.

Floryn nodded.

It wasn’t long before the Inn came into view. It was larger than the cabin but not quite as large as what they’d always imagined in books. The thatching looked like birds had been tugging at it, loose twigs and straw sticky out at odd angles, and as they stepped up onto the porch the wood sagged and groaned under their feet.

A mixture pine needles, ale, and smoke floated on the air as they eased the door open. The room was filled with filled with barstools and tables, but they all sat empty. The best sign of life was a smear of something sticky on the bar counter.

“Oi! Trevon!”

Floryn turned toward the back of a room. A chestnut haired woman in a red apron swept at the floor under the tables like the world depended on it.

A low grumble quickly drew their attention back to the bar where was a broad, mustached man was stepping out of the back room.

“Early guests, eh?” He rubbed his hand down his eyes and into his mustache. “What can I do for yous?”

Floryn took a little step closer, opened their mouth, and…

Nothing came out.

They almost choked on the empty air. A hot feeling shooting from head to toes, liquifying the bones in their legs, and clenching their insides into a thousand tiny knots. The innkeeper narrowed his eyes. Did Floryn look like they were about to faint or did he know?

Suddenly Lav’s hand was on their shoulder, casually pushing them behind so they could step right up to the bar.

“Excuse the early hour,” they said, as honey smooth as the day they’d met. “Usually we wouldn’t impose at such an inopportune hour, but we’ve been traveling all night and hoped we could trouble you for a couple of rooms.”

The innkeeper stared at Lav for a moment, as if sensing the wrongness in him. But eventually he waved his hand flippantly. “We’re up this early every day. Got to get ahead of the tenants, eh?” He propped his elbows on the counter with a large yawn. “I only got one room. 15 coppers by the night. Will that do?”

“Perfect,” Lav said. They rustled in their deep coat pocket, producing a handful of small copper coins. Where they got the money after years in seclusion, Floryn didn't know. Maybe scoured off all the dead bodies and robbed graves.

The innkeeper scraped the coins into their hand and disappeared into the back. He returned a few moments later with a little silver key. "Room 8. Anything else?" he said, sliding it across the counter. "I can have Marri whip you up a hot breakfast."

From the glare Marri shot across the room, Floryn wouldn't have accepted the offer even if they could eat.

"Very gracious of you," Lav said. "But after a full night of traveling, the room is quite enough. Just up the stairs is it?"

"Even numbers on the right," the innkeeper confirmed.

"Very good." Lav's hand landed on the middle of Floryn's back, guiding them to the narrow staircase. The steps creaked and when they reached the hall it took some squinting to make out the half-rubbed numbers chalked on the doors.

Lav's hand slid away to unlock the door, leaving the spot on Floryn's spine tingling and empty.

Lav crossed the room in a few quick strides, yanking the curtains closed on the pool of sun spreading across the floor.

"If you're cold I'll light a--" They cut off mid-turn, only then noticing what Floryn had noticed immediately. Maybe they should be flattered Lav's first thought had been to keep them out of the sun, but the delayed reaction was somehow even worse than realizing their predicament simultaneously.

The single bed sat in the middle of the room, ropes hanging a little too loosely so that the straw mattress just brushed the floor. The bed hangings had also seen better days, motheaten and sustained from cream to light yellow--though to be fair, bed hangings in general were an unexpected luxury for this place. At the very least, the bed was full-sized; they wouldn't be pressed back to back.

Floryn shivered inappropriately at the mental image before brusquely shoving it away. A quick glance around the room revealed no other furnishings but a nightstand with a half-melted candle on one side of the bed and a chair and table, set with a pitcher and washbasin, on the other.

Lav cleared their throat uncomfortably. "I suppose the number of beds to a room was never specified."

"Well," Floryn said, trying to sound unbothered. "A bed is a bed." They slid their bag to the floor and plopped down on one end. "Can't complain there."

Lav nodded. "It's been a long night. You should rest." They dropped their own pack, quickly sifting out a blanket roll and spreading it out on the floor.

"We should rest," Floryn corrected. "Don't act as if you haven't had a long night too." They patted the space beside them.

"I'll be just fine by the hearth."

"I don't mind sharing."

"It's too much."

"For who?" Floryn said. "You never had a problem dozing off on the sofa. It's basically the same thing."

"It's different. And this body, what I am, all of it..."

"So? I can judge my discomfort myself, thank you. I'm fine." They met Lav's gaze head-on. "Unless I make you uncomfortable. In which case, we should flip a coin for the bed."

Lav clenched their teeth, rotating their jaw a couple times as their yellow eyes flicked from Floryn's face to the empty side of the bed, to the door. "You are so stubborn," they finally said, crossing the room and kicking off their shoes before sliding beneath the bedcovers. The mattress sank deeper towards the floor, but Floryn closed the bed hangings and crawled underneath the covers without comment. Despite their shoddy material, the hangings did make a cozy space. Even better because they blocked out any light that might have passed through the window curtains. The only downside was it made the bed feel narrower. A small but significant gap kept their and Lav's shoulders just short of brushing.

"You know you're making my gallant attempts at consideration very difficult," Lav said.

Floryn rolled toward them. "What do you mean?"

Lav matched Floryn's movement by turning onto their side, eyes glowing catlike in the shadows. "You do make me uncomfortable."

"Oh."

"Not because I don't like being near you," Lav said. "Because I don't deserve to be. I'm wearing the body of your attacker, I constantly make you afraid, and I'm a monster."

Floryn raised their hand to their cheek, eliciting a small shock. "Honey, you've never met a real monster."

Lav scoffed but didn't move away. "What am I then?"

They stroked a crooked finger down the ghoul's cheekbone "Yes, you're a monster in the traditional sense. So am I." Their other hand pressed to Lav's chest, the faux warmth of their skin soaking into their chilly fingertips. "But not in in here. Not where it counts. You don't have to be a ghoul or a vampire to be monstrous inside." The ragged rhythm of their heart beat into Floryn's palm, steadily picking up speed. "Maybe you have met monsters--the townspeople who sacrificed you, the people who chased you away from a normal life, my hunters--but don't think for one second you’re one of them."

Warm tears pricked Floryn's thumb, and suddenly, a pair of muscled arms wrapped around them. The air fled their lungs all at once and refused to be drawn back in.

"I care about you, Flor," Lav mumured into their neck. "My dear. My darling. My love."

"I love--" Floryn caught themselves, violently clearing their throat and bowing their face into Lav's curls. "I care about you too."

This ghoul was going to be the death of them. What did they mean saying "I care" and "My love" in the same breath? Their heart had already been stopped by an undead once, they didn't need a second demonstration.

Against their better wishes, they slid out of the embrace first.

"We should sleep. We need to put more distance between us and BellBreak before we can really relax."

"Rest," Lav murmured. "I can stay up if you're worried."

"Don't get noble. I worry about you too you know." They flopped the other direction. "If I wake up in a few hours and find out you didn't sleep, I'm going to be mad."

Lav chuckled. "Understood."

The covers rustled as they settled down deeper into the bed. The warmth of their presence tickled Floryn's back even from across the gap, but strangely, they weren't quite so anxious now. Perhaps they were simply to tired to worry anymore because sleep hit hard and fast. Seconds after closing their eyes they were engulfed in dark, dreamless sleep--a gift after so much nightmare fuel had been tossed their way today.

When Floryn woke next, the gap no longer existed.

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[piedpiperart]

Phantom of Gotham 17

Chapter 16

“Shoot, we didn’t ask Phantom about Danny,”Dick groaned. 

“I asked him a bit, but it uh. It seemed private,”Tim chimed in from where he was sitting at the batcomputer with his pajamas on. They’d changed when they had gotten back, but stuck around to debrief. 

“Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking going into some glowing green portal by yourself?” Jason let out, exasperated. Tim just shrugged, not pausing in his typing. 

“You could have come with you know,”Tim argued. “He said it was safe, and we just flew to this frozen island to get Frostbite, then flew back.”

“Frozen island? Wait a minute, what was it like in there?” Dick asked, bouncing on his feet with Damian scowling at his side in batman pajamas. 

“Well, it’s kind of like… okay, imagine the sky is green, just like the portal. Now imagine you’re floating in the green sky and theres no ground. So theres only sky around you and as you keep moving theres things floating in the sky as you go along, like random doors and floating islands,” Tim explained. “Its really interesting actually, apparently most of the floating islands or doors lead to a ghosts haunt, or territory. Frostbites was huge and he and his people lived in these snowy mountain caves, but their technology was super advanced. I didn’t get a lot of time to ask about it but apparently Frostbite is like the Zone’s doctor.”

“Huh,” Dick murmured, trying to wrap his brain around all of that information. The other bats didn’t seem much better. 

Tim sighed. “Just read my report.”

“Creepy ghost zone aside,”Jason shuddered,”What did you mean when you said you talked to Phantom about Danny? And why were you two running around looking for boxes?”

“I asked why Danny had uh.. Autopsy scars, and Phantom said that the Fentons found out about Danny and locked him in their lab. Phantom couldn’t get to him immediately, so they had time to uh, do a few experiments,”Tim gritted out.”But Phantom got him out eventually and they made their way here.” 

None of them were happy about that, but it was mostly what they had speculated. Still, confirming what they thought wasn’t a good feeling. Tim could see Jason’s fists clenching and decided on a distraction. 

“As for the boxes,”Tim grinned.”On our way back we ran into a ghost who had an obsession with boxes, so I promised to give some to Frostbite for him when we were done.” 

Jason didn’t know what to do with that information, so he just elected to ignore it. Dick on the other hand, had many questions. “Why boxes?” 

“I was told he is the ruler of all things cardboard and square,”Tim repeated, laughing internally at their faces. “Phantom calls him Boxy.”

“Huh,”Dick said again, and Tim was starting to get concerned. He shrugged, they could just read his report about it. 

“Wait, was Boxy the one that had a kid?” Jason said suddenly, and they all grimaced. 

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

Flying back to the Wayne Manor, Danny could see hardly any snow outside. He knew they’d probably continue school tomorrow, or the next day. Part of him trusted the bats, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to reveal his identity yet. He knew he couldn’t stay there any longer for fear of the Wayne-Bats wanting to find him a place to stay or getting involved more than they were, but Danny didn’t want their civilian sides getting too involved. 

He knew that after three portals were opened in one space had a high possibility of alerting GIW or Vlad of his location. If he wanted to avoid them, he couldn’t stay with the Waynes. Danny wasn’t sure if they still had a way of tracking him, but they could definitely track huge power sources like the portals he’d made.

Danny floated down to his room and eyed his bag in the corner. He’d kept it fully packed in case he needed to leave, but he felt bad leaving without a goodbye. Maybe he could write a note? It was for the best, really. He didn’t want his parents or Agent K breaking into the manor or hurting the Waynes. Sure, they could fight the agents no problem, but they might give their identities away. Or worse, Vlad could break into the manor. It would be easy for Vlad to find him if he ended up on any of the Wayne’s social media. Danny was pretty sure the fruitloop jealously stalked Bruce on every social media platform that ever existed. 

Maybe that’s how Vlad got the idea to adopt a blue eyed black haired teenager? Danny mused, then shook his head. Then he stopped. Actually, that made some sense. Danny frowned. Okay, so maybe Vlad’s plans weren’t even original. Whatever. Either way, he had to leave.

Yeah, he could write them a note, he thought, ignoring the sad feeling permeating his core. 

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

Despite the fact that they had school that morning, Tim hadn’t seen Danny yet. Usually, the boy would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast with Alfred, but not today Part of him wondered if Danny was sleeping still when he caught sight of Alfred’s face and the note laid on the table. 

“What’s up Alfred? Where’s Danny?”Tim asked, taking a seat. Uncharacteristically, Alfred frowned and passed him the note gently. 

“Master Danny has decided to return to his old place due to the snow letting up,”Alfred informed him, and Tim’s heart dropped. He grasped the note tighter and jerked his gaze to the letters. 

Waynes-

Thank you for letting me stay with you all during the blizzard, but now that the snow has let up it’s time for me to leave. Sorry for not staying long enough for a goodbye, but I figured you’d try to convince me to stay, so, yeah. Don’t worry about me though, I’ll be fine. You have my number and I’ll be seeing Tim and Steph at school. Just please don’t call CPS or anything, I promise I’m much better off on my own. Anyways, thanks for letting me stay. It was nice to meet you all. 

-Danny 𔓎 

p.s. Please don’t call Red Hood to kidnap me again. 

Tim let out a breath, reading the note again before putting it on the table. His mind was already racing with plans. Maybe Danny went back to the Pizzaria, so Red Robin could just swing by later. When did Danny even leave? He was sure they would have caught him on the security feed or Alfred would have at least caught him sneaking out. 

“I believe Master Danny had left sometime last night,”Alfred said, cutting through his thoughts. “He left the note on his bed, and Master Bruce is unsure how he managed to avoid the cameras on his way.”

“You think Phantom took him?” Tim asked, but frowned. That didn’t make any sense. Maybe Danny just asked Phantom to get him? Was that why Phantom disappeared so quickly after the meeting?

“It seems that way,”Alfred said, pushing a plate of food at him. “Master Jason has since returned home, but has been alerted of the situation. Masters Bruce and Dick are in the cave, and Damian has already left for school in accordance to a field trip.”

“Hm,”Tim frowned. He assumed Jason would be swinging by the Pizzeria to check out Danny’s space. At least he knew he’d be seeing Danny at school, and, the letter was right, he did have Danny’s number. No doubt Damian was mad at Danny for leaving too, but maybe Jason would be able to find him again later and bring him back. Tim resigned himself to try to kidnap Danny to the manor after school. 

In the meantime, he pulled out his phone with a frown. 

Timkerbell

You better not be sleeping in the Pizzeria again

Snowdan

Me? Pshh, nah, I’d never. What are you talking about. 

Timkerbell

I can’t believe you. You didn’t even say goodbye!

Snowdan

I will literally see you at school in an hour

Timkerbell

I can’t believe you’d rather be homeless than stay in a frikin manor. You know we’re rich right? One extra person isn’t a big deal. 

Snowdan

You guys said I could leave when the snow stopped.

Timkerbell

Yeah because we thought you’d want to stay! You know that right? Literally everyone misses you. Even Damian. 

Snowdan

Okay but I did say I was still gonna leave. Many times. 

Timkerbell

:(

Snowdan

Seriously. I don’t want to be a bother. Or have my family show up at your doorstep unannounced.

Timkerbell

Uh. Why would they do that

Snowdan

No reason. 

On an unrelated note, if anyone in Blue/Orange jumpsuits or White suits show up at your door don’t let them in. 

Timkerbell

Ah. That explains absolutely nothing thanks

Snowdan

Ur welcome. See u in class ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Tim frowned. So maybe people were still hunting Danny? The jumpsuits were obviously his parents, and the white suits is the Guys in White. Did Danny know that Tim would get the reference? Was it a warning of some sort? Tim rubbed his head, thinking of the impending headache this was gonna cause. Either way, if Danny was subtly warning them he’s still being hunted, then he should know they can handle themselves. And that they can protect him a whole lot better if he actually stayed in the manor. 

Sighing, Tim got ready for school and made his way to the car. At least Alfred sent him with some cookies to give Danny. Or bribe him. Tim wasn’t opposed to blackmail. 

Chapter 18

[jones-friend]

Lets talk about The Sky

D&D is known for its exotic locales and fantastic spaces. It is fully ready to get its hands dirty digging down to the underground, the Underdark, but what about the sky above?

After a playthrough of Elden Ring I was inspired to create a “sky biome” similar to the “underground biome” of the underdark. An alien place with its own rules and logic that are different from us grounded folk. Nothing in this post needs to be canon by any means, all this is, is a theorycraft on what you could put into a sky biome in your world and how elements could work, feel free to take what you like!

To start it off here’s some things to keep in mind about living in the sky:

The Sky is Sparse. Like the open ocean there are few landmarks and guides to tell you where you are. There’s also vast, open spaces. Our sky is usually clear, your player characters aren’t often sighting floating islands or airships. This means maps of the sky biome will have broad open spaces between major points.

Difficult to Chart, Conquer. The sky biome is changing, moving, making it hard to chart and hard to conquer. Many pieces may be moving on their own over time. Maps may not always be accurate and you might need to source information to travel. You can always descend to the ground, but it takes considerable energy to land and take off.

A Resilient People. There are people dedicated to surviving some of the harshest conditions on earth. Likely anyone living in the sky is good at it, has been doing so culturally for eons, and wouldn’t want to stop just because of a few bits from land folks.

Exotic Resources. Creatures living in the sky may resort to different ways of sustenance. Sky leviathans may have forests growing on their back that give energy from the sun, cloud fortresses may harvest special plants that can only grow in their nutrient light soil. Each region may need its own way of feeding its people.

With that in mind lets check out some ways to put people in the skies!

Floating Islands are a staple in fantasy stories, from Sonic the Hedgehog to Avatar. Floating chunks of land with their own adapted flora/fauna, floating by natural or magical means. They make great places to build more traditional ground civilizations with farms, castles, towns, etc. A familiar start in an unfamiliar land. Sky islands could be subject to the moon’s pull or other celestial actions, moved as the moon moves.

Sky leviathans! Like blue whales of the deep the sky regions may have great creatures swimming through the clouds. They may prey on flocks of birds like krill, receive energy from the sun through forests and plants growing on their backs, or be more predatory like sky sharks. You could create forest cities on their backs worshipping the sky leviathan like a diskworld turtle, or structures could be artificially constructed around the sky leviathan like some D&D cruise ship. Aboard a leviathan you’re more at the mercy of wherever it travels, along for the ride as it were.

Airships! Another classic staple of fantasy adventure. Airships as a locale in the sky could be a variety of things. They could be a singular zeppelin, some great cruiser floating through the air. They could also be a fleet or formation of airships with wire ziplines serving as transportation airship to airship. These nomadic homes can easily travel wherever they please and stock up on resources from trading posts or internal farms.

D&D is a fantastic land with dwarves and giants, so why not make a castle made of clouds? Made by cloud giants, goliaths, wizards, gods, these wispy bastions rise high as indomitable fortresses of the sky. They could be major points of control in an attempted sky war, they could be subject to weather like snow or rain.

I’m making sky ruins its own category on this list, somewhere between floating islands and airships. Mysterious in origin and purpose, possibly moving on its own volition, possibly affecting the world around it with constant tornadoes or storms. Inhabitants could be ancients displaced from time, undead, constructs, or new inhabitants who don’t understand what they perch upon. This could also loop into Bioshock Infinite style constructed cities in the sky that are very much not (yet) ruined.

If we can have cave systems so deep they lead to the Underdark as a bridge from overworld to underworld why not have a bridge to the sky? Big Mountain. This is a mountain so large it moves from the overworld to the sky, a Mt Everest sized feature in the world. It should be difficult to ascend by foot but if you do you’re rewarded with a piece of the sky biome. It could be a roost for aarakocra on their migratory routes, monastery of those devoted to the winged, or even a great lair to a benevolent dragon more interested in trade than tyranny.

The last region I have for you is open sky! A no-man’s land region of the sky biome best traversed by endurance runners of fliers. Like the open ocean these are vast open spaces that could contain any number of uncharted bits of other regions or have flocks of flying creatures interacting. The open sky is defined by what it lacks and enticing for its boundless adventure. The answer is we don’t know, and by playing we discover.

And thats the sky! A region of untapped creative potential. I would love to hear other thoughts you might have for what could work as a region or landmark in the sky, or any thoughts you had reading through this! Happy exploring out there, friends!

[extralively]

Bringing You Home

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW 9,268 words (jfc) Also posted on AO3 Summary: After leaving a boring clan event, Satoru brings Yura with him to his private quarters on the Gojo Estate. Yura gets to snoop a bit in what is essentially Satoru's childhood bedroom, before the two of them actually get started with the, ahem, after-party...

Here's the new oneshot in the Under the Cover of Shadows series! It takes place immediately after chapter 1 of my fic Deeper in the Dark, but it could also be read as standalone. This was also supposed to be just smut, but then I got carried away playing with my headcanons as to what Satoru's childhood was like lmao and it ended up turning into a bit of a character study for him. Also there's smut.

Anyway, enjoy another accidentally long-ass oneshot! I know you guys were asking for this one, so hopefully I can deliver hehe

“Satoru, where are we going?” Yura asked as he tugged her along by the hand. The sounds of the clan event kept getting further away, which—good. Satoru already had enough dealing with annoying clan people for the night, so he was more than looking forward to just being him and Yura alone, and no one else.

“We’re going for a walk,” Satoru told her, shooting her a grin.

Yura had commented a couple of times about finding the Gojo Estate beautiful to look at, and Satoru supposed he couldn’t deny that fact—although, spending most of his childhood confined to this place did little to endear him to it, since for the longest time he simply couldn’t wait until he was free of all this.

He could, however, see the appeal in taking Yura out for a walk around the Estate, especially when there was no one else around. As the head of the clan, the Estate was something that could be considered unequivocally his territory, and there was an odd giddy feeling inside of him at being able to share it with Yura.

“Just for a walk?” Yura asked, an amused glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. She still kept her hand in his as they walked side by side.

“...For now,” Satoru replied, a sly grin of his own spreading across his face. “Let’s just take the scenic route for a little while.”

Yura only hummed in response, looking back to the front. Satoru was guiding them through a covered outdoor pathway, mostly due to the snow piled up on the ground. Small snowflakes still floated down from the sky every now and then, coating everything in a layer of white, and Satoru briefly lamented that the scenery around these parts was usually prettier during the spring.

Well, he would just have to bring Yura here again some other time, he thought to himself.

A chilly gust of wind passed by, and he felt Yura shiver next to him even if she was wearing the new coat he’d given her. She ended up stepping closer to him then, probably seeking more warmth—even though he was a little disappointed when her hand left his, he couldn’t complain much when she grasped his arm instead, first with one hand and then with her other one. And for the second time that night, Yura was clutching at his arm as she stayed glued to his side, and Satoru couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face.

They continued walking almost mindlessly through the outdoor paths, passing by several of the buildings that made up the Gojo Estate. Yura seemed to be curious about everything, asking him what each building was for—mostly different residences, he’d answered, although there were a couple of shrines scattered throughout. Most of the non-residential buildings were in a different area... and he supposed that he would just have to show her to those some other time.

“How many people live on the Estate?” Yura asked, still leaning against his side.

“Uh...” He stopped to think. “I’m not sure, actually. Mostly everyone with the Gojo name—you know, my uncles and aunts, their kids, their kids’ kids, some further apart cousins, the live-in employees and servants...”

“...Everyone except the clan head himself,” she replied with an amused smile, and she wasn’t wrong there.

Satoru nodded. “Yup.”

He’d had his family breathing down his neck for the entirety of his childhood and then some; this time, he wanted some actual freedomto live his life without their annoying meddling, thank you very much.

Yura let out a sigh, nodding slightly as she leaned against his side again. They continued walking some more, chatting sometimes, and sometimes just staying in comfortable silence. Satoru was too busy enjoying Yura’s presence there to worry about anything else.

But then her voice interrupted yet another stretch of quiet. “Satoru,” she called, and he turned his head to her. “This walk is going great and all... but are we getting somewhere soon? These heels are really starting to bother me...”

As Yura slowed down to a stop, pulling him with her, Satoru ended up getting a bit of déjà vu. That’s right—one and a half years ago, when Satoru had last brought Yura to the Estate with him, he’d also taken her on a walk like this after they’d left the event. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had decided to do that; he had simply grabbed her hand to pull her away from the stuffy ceremony they’d been forced to attend, and then... she just hadn’t pulled her hand away. So he’d just kept walking, until Yura had complained that her kimono had been a little too tight after all the food they’d eaten.

Satoru snorted. “Why is it always something when we go on walks like these?” He shot her a crooked grin. “Why must you interrupt this lovely atmosphere we have going on?”

Yura stuck her feet out, jiggling her shoe. “You were the one who got me these way too high heels to wear. It’s your fault that my feet can’t handle all this walking.”

Well, that was true. But she did look fantasticwith the heels on, along with the dress he’d gotten her for this event.

Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, fully turning to face her. “Fine. We’ll go,” he said, but then he got déjà vu again as he stared at Yura in front of him.

...Ah. That’s right. That night, he’d also come this close to kissing her—this close. If Yura hadn’t looked away, he would have definitely done it. Back then, he had tried rationalizing it away as a momentary fluke—the way she had sat by his side in front of his entire clan as his wife had certainly done a number on him, and something inside of him had gotten a little too comfortable with the idea as they’d played along.

But to be honest, he now knew that calling it a fluke had only been him lying to himself, because he had also come this close to kissing her multiple times before and after. As it turned out, he had just really wanted to kiss Yura.

His lips twitched up.

And he could do that now, couldn’t he?

Without a word, Satoru simply leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, Yura was blinking up at him in surprise, slightly taken aback.

“...What was that for?” she asked, a little amused.

Satoru shot her a small grin. “Just ‘cause I can,” he told her.

Yura gave his chest a light slap, even as she was trying to bite back a smile.

“Alright, come on,” he eventually said, stepping closer to her. And just like last time, he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her body unnecessarily close to him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling her own arms wrap around his torso, before he teleported them both away.

---

Yura was a little confused when they reappeared somewhere still in the Gojo Estate and not in front of his car, like she had expected. They were in a hallway, in front of a closed sliding door, and it did look a little familiar... though Yura wasn’t exactly sure where they were.

“...Where are we?” she asked, stepping away from Satoru as his arms dropped from around her.

Satoru grinned as he moved toward the door. “Why, the party isn’t over yet,” he told her, sliding one side of the door open. “Or better yet, you can call this the after-party.”

As Yura peered inside the room, she suddenly remembered what this place was. These were Satoru’s private quarters inside the Gojo Estate, the ones he rarely used because, well, he didn’t really spend much time around these parts. He had brought her here once, some seven years ago on her first visit, saying that it was the one place where he could be free of his family when inside the Estate.

...Yura suddenly had an inkling as to what Satoru had in mind for this after-partyof his.

“I wasn’t aware there would be an after-party,” Yura said, even as she took off her heels before she stepped inside the room. “That wasn’t on the invitation.” ...There hadn’t really been an invitation.

Satoru was still grinning. “A surprise after-party then,” he said, starting to take off his own shoes. “But, really, you should have seen this coming.”

She really should have.

They both moved inside, Satoru turning on the lights before he helped her take off her coat, hanging it with his. Yura ended up getting a little distracted admiring the place again—this was essentially Satoru’s childhood bedroom, wasn’t it? Well, it was a little more than a bedroom—Yura was only familiar with the main sitting area where she and Satoru had had tea that one time, but there was still one doorway leading to what she knew to be the bedroom, and also another one that she wasn’t sure where it led to. It was almost like he had a whole apartment of his own inside his house, and Yura wondered how much time he would spend in here alone, given everything that he’d told her over the years...

“Young master?” a voice came from outside, following a knock on the door. The voice was familiar—that was Hanae, wasn’t it? Satoru’s old caretaker (read: babysitter), and probably the one person inside the Estate that he actually liked.

“Yeah?” Satoru replied, turning to the door and sliding it open again. Sure enough, Hanae was standing outside, and she gave him one deep bow in greeting before she spotted Yura, shooting the younger woman a warm smile and bowing to her as well.

“It’s good to see you again, Yura-san,” Hanae called, and Yura gave her a similar bow in greeting.

“You too,” Yura replied. She had first met Hanae on her first visit to the Estate, but they had definitely run into each other a few times in the years since. Mostly in Satoru’s apartment, since Hanae was the one coming in to tidy up his place every week; and since Yura had started spending more and more time over at Satoru’s... she had definitely begun to run into the older woman more often in the past year or so...

“I’m sorry to interrupt, young master,” Hanae said, bowing her head down to Satoru again. “But I’m afraid the head of the Kamo clan has requested your presence.”

Satoru’s mood suddenly did a one-eighty, and he let out an aggravated sigh. “Seriously? I’m busy—We can talk some other time.”

Hanae pressed her lips together for a moment. “...I’m afraid that this might be some official business,” she eventually said. “They stressed it was important—I believe it is regarding a possible marriage match between the two clans.” She shot him an apologetic smile.

Satoru was silent for a moment before his shoulders sagged. “Fine,” he caved, and Yura had to wonder if they’d sent Hanae here to fetch him because she seemed to have a way of talking him into things. Yura supposed that the other woman just had plenty of practice dealing with his difficult kid self. “But this’ll have to be quick—I don’t need to be involved in this...” he finished by grumbling out the words. He grabbed his coat with an exaggerated sigh, before he suddenly turned back to Yura and pointed a finger right at her face. “You. Don’t go anywhere,” he said in mock-seriousness. Then his face shifted into a grin. “The after-party is still on.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin as she pretended to be bothered. “Just don’t take too long,” she said, setting a hand on her hip. “...Also, I can’t promise I won’t snoop.”

Satoru continued grinning as he slipped his coat back on. “Snoop away,” he said.

Satoru eventually left with Hanae, leaving Yura alone there in his private quarters. And as she turned away from the door, looking over the place, her urge to snoop was strong.

To start off, she shot the living area a long cursory glance as she gave the place a once-over. Not much seemed to have changed since her first visit—much like the rest of the house, this room was also elegantly decorated in mostly traditional Japanese décor, with a low table (a kotatsu, actually) in the center where she and Satoru had drank tea last time, a couch against a wall, and a few bookshelves scattered throughout. There was, however, a very modern TV on top of a console against the wall, but otherwise, this place could have passed as something from another time entirely.

And there also wasn’t much Satoru from what she could see, nothing that would really indicate this place as being his. She wondered if that was because he’d long since moved out and had probably taken most of ‘his’stuff with him—but Yura also remembered Satoru mentioning that he hadn’t actually been allowed to redecorate as a child, hence why he ended up going nuts decorating his dorm room after he’d moved into the school.

Yura strolled across the room, glancing at the books on the shelves as she moved past them to peek through the doorway that led to the bedroom. She flicked the light switch on as she walked through the door, taking in the sight; again, there wasn’t much there. A low bed against a wall, a couple of dressers on the other side (even though she was pretty sure one of the western-style doors in the room also led to a closet), a smaller low table with some seats on the far end of the room, and another TV on the wall—nothing very distinct. Was this really how his bedroom had always looked, or had this been redecorated after Satoru had grown up? The bed was way too big for one single kid, although the thought of a kid Satoru sleeping sprawled out on the king-sized bed was pretty amusing—and very on-brand. He did like to spread out; when she would sleep next to him, he would often use her as a mattress instead.

...Or maybe he just liked spreading himself on top of her.

For a little while, Yura busied herself examining the room, peeking in through the western-style doors (one a bathroom and the other, yep, a closet), and then deciding to indeed snoop by opening the drawers on Satoru’s bedside tables. Now this finally felt more like Satoru—mostly normal stuff like phone chargers, a tablet, some candy (she snorted—yep, that’s him); just regular stuff she knew he also kept by his bed in his own apartment. Opening the bottom drawer, however, finally revealed something that seemed more childhood-like: it was an old handheld game console, with a few game cases carefully stored next to it. Yura knew that Satoru must have had multiple different game consoles throughout the years (a few of which she’d seen him using back in school), and that he hadn’t actually kept most of them—so she had to wonder why this one. Maybe it had some kind of special significance, she theorized. She would just have to ask him later.

(She also found a box of tissues and, ahem, lotion, in one drawer, and Yura’s lips tugged up; now, was that a recent Satoru thing or was that a remnant from his teenage days, she wondered...)

Tired of snooping in the bedroom, Yura made her way back to the main sitting area and walked to the unknown closed room, her curiosity not yet sated. This unknown room turned out to be nothing more than some kind of study, or so she guessed—it also had a low table in the middle, but this one felt more like a desk, with the handful of papers and writing implements scattered on top of it. The number of bookcases spread around the room also helped give it that study feeling.

Yura moved further inside as she examined things with a careful eye, briefly noting that a lot of the books on the shelves actually looked more like textbooks. That’s right, Satoru had been largely homeschooled, hadn’t he? At least before going to Jujutsu Tech. Yura looked over at the desk, suddenly trying to picture child Satoru sitting there and studying diligently—and she snorted. Somehow, she had doubts—but he was infuriatingly smart regardless of how much time he had actually spent studying at school, so who knows. Maybe he’d just had a verythorough education beforehand.

As the picture of a young Satoru studying in this room stuck in her mind, though, Yura looked over the room again. Had this been where he’d studied—where he would take his lessons? Satoru had complained several times during school about the amount of time his family had forced him to spend studying (‘And so I can afford to take it easy now,’ he would tell her, much to her indignation as he simply skipped regular classes), but she would have expected his private quarters to have some kind of toy room attached to them, instead of this somber study room. And she somehow didn’t think it was because this room had been cleaned out since he’d moved away...

Yura sighed, looking around.

To be honest, the more she thought about Satoru’s childhood, the more it seemed oddly lonely. Sure, he was the strongest; sure, he had enough money to buy anything he could have possibly wanted... but what good did it do when he could only enjoy it all alone?

Satoru had told her all about his family keeping the fabled Gojo heir confined to the Estate for the entirety of his childhood—‘for his protection,’ they would say. Yeah, that was a reason, but that just meant that Satoru had grown up isolated—if not deliberately being kept away from most people, then just by virtue of being who he was. No wonder he had been such an asshole when they’d first met—that had been his first actual foray into the ‘real word’, hadn’t it? Aside from all those times he had snuck out as a kid (see, that’s what you get for being so overly controlling: you end up with a strongest sorcerer with a rebellious streak instead). It was honestly no surprise that he had been such a spoiled brat with poor social skills when he’d first come to Jujutsu Tech.

And it also shouldn’t have been so surprising to see his quarters so bare, so devoid of personality, considering the controlling nature of his family. Even his current apartment usually seemed a little too clean for someone like Gojo Satoru, so that was definitely a habit that seemed to have been forcefully developed during his childhood regardless of the rebellious nature he had grown to have since then.

...But then as her eyes stumbled upon a figure propped up between a few books, Yura had to smile. Finally, she thought. There he is. That was Digimon, wasn’t it? At last, a little splash of personality inside the otherwise nondescript room, and Yura looked fondly at the worn-out toy that suddenly reminded her of a time when Satoru would sit her down to watch this anime whether she liked it or not.

‘It’s so much better than Pokémon!’ he would insist. ‘I must bestow you with good taste.’

Yura eventually continued looking over the many shelves, her eyes roaming over the titles of all these textbooks. She was kinda impressed at all the advanced reading that pre-high school Satoru had been doing, even though she knew that Satoru was smart-smart... despite acting like an idiot most of the time. But then she stopped in her tracks again.

There was a picture frame on one of the middle shelves, the only photo frame in this whole place. Yura knew that Satoru didn’t have the habit of hanging up pictures in his place, despite them taking many photos together on their phones—so this photo frame in particular immediately piqued her curiosity. She bent down, picking it up—and it surprised her a little, even if it was exactly what she should have expected.

There were two people in the photograph, one that Yura clearly recognized as being Satoru’s father—looking much younger than now—and the other one a boy... who Yura took a couple of seconds to recognize as Satoru himself. The white hair and blue eyes should have been a dead giveaway, but it still took her a moment; maybe it was the fact that Yura had never seen any pictures of Satoru as a kid, or maybe it was the unusually serious expression on his face. And not just serious—scowling, like he didn’t want to be there... which she guessed was probably the case. Both father and son were standing next to each other, facing the camera, his father’s hand on his shoulder in what clearly looked to be an ‘official’ photograph of some kind.

Yura studied the photo closely; this was actually her first glimpse into what Satoru had looked like as a kid. He looked young—very young—but she couldn’t be sure how old he was in the picture, so she couldn’t tell if he’d always been that tall or if he ever used to be of a normal height. His hair was shorter than when she’d first met him, almost choppily messy despite the fact that he was wearing what looked like a formal kimono along with his father, and he also wasn’t wearing any sunglasses at this time. His cheeks were round with baby fat, far different from the Satoru she knew today but not that different from the fifteen-year-old Satoru she had met over a decade ago, and, well... he kinda looked adorable.

She could just squeeze his chubby, grumpy cheeks.

And speaking of which, Yura started to feel the man in question approaching long before she ever heard him open the main door.

“Yuraaa,” she heard him call, moving towards where she was standing. “Where are you snooping...”

Satoru popped up in the doorway, shooting her a grin, and Yura bit back a smile. “You done with... whatever they wanted you for?” she asked.

Satoru let out a sigh as he approached her, stopping right behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “It was dumb,” he replied, pressing his face to her hair. “Some far-removed Gojo clan member and some even more far-removed Kamo clan member were trying to arrange a marriage between themselves, and apparently they needed the clan heads’ approval for that.” He suddenly dropped his chin to her shoulder, grumbling, “Just get married, don’t drag me into it...”

Yura huffed out a laugh, leaning back against him. “Do you need to approve every marriage in the clan or something?”

He shook his head, even as he kept it pressed against her shoulder. “No, just between the three major clans,” he replied. “Something something not wanting a clan’s inherited technique to fall into another clan’s hands. Blah.”

That definitely sounded like something that would be taken seriously by the three clans, but trust Satoru to treat it with the same seriousness as stepping on gum.

“So,” Satoru started again. “Whatchu got there?”

Yura smiled. “You,” she answered, turning the photo toward him. She tapped his face on the photograph with a finger. “You look so grumpy here.”

Satoru let out a sigh. “Official photo time was always boring,” he said, and she wasn’t surprised. He buried his face in her neck again, almost whining against her skin as his glasses poked at her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a photo of you as a kid,” she told him. She grinned. “Look at your chubby cheeks.”

Satoru huffed out a laugh against her neck. “I know, I know, I was adorable.”

She half-heartedly rolled her eyes. “An adorable menace, I’m sure.”

“I mean...” Satoru heaved out another breath against her skin, shifting slightly behind her. “Are we gonna keep talking about kid me or are we gonna... get to the good stuff?”

And as if to make a point, she felt his lips press against the crook of her neck, and Yura tried biting back a grin. Of course.

---

Satoru felt a little... odd.

It wasn’t like Yura had never visited his private quarters in the Gojo Estate before, but something about having her there now was throwing him for a loop.

These days, there was a very clear distinction between what he considered to be clan life and his regular day-to-day life. It’d started many years ago when he’d left for Jujutsu Tech, finally able to break away from the suffocating grip his family had on him—and over the years, he’d been able to keep both parts of his life fairly well-separated. It wasn’t entirely intentional on his part; it had simply happened that way. His family didn’t bother him when it came to his job, and he usually only had to deal with clan-related business when he visited the Estate.

And this division extended to the people in his life as well—his family tended to stay away once he wasn’t around the Estate, and the friends he’d made after leaving for school didn’t usually get involved in clan matters nor frequent the same places his family did.

Which was probably why having Yura there, in the room he grew up in, felt so odd—like two worlds colliding entirely.The only person that had straddled the line between the clan and non-clan parts of his life had been a certain someone that would not be named—the only other person from outside that had ever visited his quarters here.

...But that couldn’t be the reason for this weird feeling in him, could it? At least not entirely. He had brought Yura here once, many years ago, and they’d had tea in his living area—and yeah, sure, it had felt a little strange back then too, but not thisstrange. This was a similar kind of feeling to what he’d felt when he took Yura with him to that clan ceremony a year and a half ago—seeing her there next to him, surrounded by his family and his clan...

It was... odd. Like he had just slotted her in an entirely new place in his life, where she fit... a little too well. Odd, but not a bad kind of odd.

So he decided to just ignore that weird feeling and busy himself by pressing his lips to her neck instead.

“Is this the only reason you brought me here?” Yura asked, amused. He vaguely noticed her placing the photo frame back on the shelf before she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck.

He’d truly made a wonderful choice picking this dress for her. With her entire neckline bared to him, he was able to trail his lips up and down an unbroken expanse of skin, going up her neck then down to her shoulder and back again. There was only the delicate chain of her necklace in the way, but he hardly minded it considering how she always wore it anyway. “Couldn’t exactly do this in front of everyone...” he replied, letting his teeth gently scrape the side of her neck, and he felt Yura shiver against him. “Even though I kind of wanted to.”

He heard Yura huff out a laugh. “Well, at least you behaved.”

He grinned against her neck—time to finally misbehave, then.

Satoru’s hands had been resting on her waist, and he let them drift further forward. His palms slid over Yura’s stomach on top of her dress, enjoying the way the softness and firmness of her body felt against his hands. As his thumb brushed over the underside of a breast, he was a little disappointed to find that she was, in fact, wearing a bra... but oh well. That would come off soon enough. So he pressed his nose to the side of her throat as he let his hands slide up to squeeze both of her soft mounds, and Yura laughed again.

“Someone’s getting handsy,” she said, letting her head fall back against him. His other hand drifted down again, splaying his fingers open over her stomach to press her body back into his... maybe only proving her point further. His lips pressed a kiss underneath her ear, feeling her sigh against him, and he kissed her there again—if he was getting handsy, then did this mean he was getting lipsy as well?

He grinned some more, but his grin ended up falling when Yura pulled away from him. He straightened himself up as he looked at her in confusion.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get handsy in your... study room,” she said, but she had a smile on her face as she stepped closer to him, her hands resting on his chest as she pressed her front to his.

His grin came back. “Why not?” he asked. His head dipped closer to her, his lips approaching hers.

But Yura pulled away before he could reach her once again, a mischievous look on her face. So she was in a teasing mood huh? Well, at least her hands took a hold of his as she stepped back, pulling him with her, and he let her lead him along.

Yura guided them back into the living area and then tugged him into the bedroom with her, and Satoru’s grin widened. Yura was still holding on to both of his hands, so once they were both sufficiently inside, she simply tugged his body to hers, pressing their fronts together again.

“This feels like a better place to start the after-party,” she said, her head tilting up towards his.

He was still grinning as he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, and finally lowered his mouth to hers.

A sigh escaped him as they locked their lips together, his hands coming up to cup her face and bring her closer—he’d been wanting to do this all night. Maybe even in front of everyone—his family, the Kamo clan, the Zen’ins, all the elders and higher ups in attendance—he had been wanting to pull her to him and kiss her so everyone would see. He had refrained from doing that, of course, as Yura probably wouldn’t have appreciated it, so he’d had to hold himself back all night instead.

But not now. Now he could let his tongue taste her lips as he wished, enjoying the way her own tongue reached out to brush against his own. He could tilt her head slightly so he could kiss her deeper, feeling her hands tightening on his shirt against his sides as she pressed herself closer. He could just... get lost in her, just like this.

Satoru’s fingers slipped into her hair, enjoying the softness of the strands as he kept her face as close as possible. Yura herself was pressing her body tightly against his, and he could feel her pushing herself up on her toes to get even closer. See? This was why he’d gotten her those heels—Yura was pretty tall herself, but those heels would have helped them get on more even ground.

...Although, to be fair, she wasn’t likely to wear heels in the bedroom. Ah, well.

Yura’s nose bumped against his sunglasses as their mouths moved together, and it prompted her to pull away from him. She herself raised her hands to pluck the glasses off his face with a grin, but instead of tossing them somewhere else, she only folded them back up and slipped them between her breasts, leaving it hanging off the front of her dress.

His eyes, of course, followed along, and his gaze was immediately stuck to her cleavage.

Yura really needed to wear strapless tops more often...

“So,” Yura started, and Satoru had been so entranced by the way her breasts looked in that dress that he hadn’t noticed she was actually stepping away from him. “This is your childhood bedroom.”

Satoru’s eyes finally left her chest, and when they did, the sight suddenly struck him.

The four walls of this room were ones he was intimately familiar with; this was where he’d spent most of his childhood before he was able to break away from all of it and build his own life for himself. To be honest, most of his happy memories had taken place outside of here—even now, after all this time, this place still felt as stifling as it used to be when he was a kid, so he usually avoided it as much as possible.

But having Yura there with him now—why was it making him feel... something?

“What?” she asked, a confused smile on her face at his prolonged silence.

Satoru stared at her for another long moment, taking in the sight of Yura standing right there in his childhood bedroom, before he mentally shook himself out of it. “Nothing,” he replied, stepping closer to her. “Just thinking that you should really let me buy you dresses more often.”

Yura rolled her eyes even if she still had a smile on her face, and before he could get his hands on her again, she turned her back to him. “Well, now you’re gonna have to help get me out of this dress instead,” she said, handing his sunglasses back to him over her shoulder.

Satoru grinned, taking the glasses and slipping them into his pocket. “Happy to oblige.”

The first thing Satoru did was brush her long hair over her shoulder, exposing her back to him. He let his hands linger on her bare skin above the line of her dress, tracing the faint scars there; as much as the sight of her bare legs drove him crazy, he had also developed a fondness for the line of her shoulders, the contours of her collarbone, the movements of her shoulder blades...

Satoru lowered his lips to the crook of her neck again, pressing a soft kiss to her bare skin. He let his hand trace down the dip of her back until he reached the edge of her dress, fingers finding the zipper there and slowly tugging it down. His mind briefly wondered how she had put it on without any help, realizing with an amused laugh that she must have used her own technique to do so. But any other thoughts on the matter were quickly wiped away once he had fully undone the zipper, letting the dress slide down her body to pool at her feet.

Yura was wearing a similarly pale pink matching underwear set, and Satoru had to pull away slightly to admire how the strapless bra and panties hugged her curves just right. He let a hand slide down her back, briefly brushing over her ass as she turned around, facing him; she had an almost knowing smile on her face, but then she once again pulled away from him as she let her smile turn into a sly one.

“You’re overdressed, by the way,” she said as she stepped towards the bed. She sat down on it and then shuffled back towards the middle, and Satoru could only stare once more.

Yura, in her underwear, sitting on his bed at the Gojo Estate—

How many times had he laid on his back on this very same bed, staring up at the sky through the ceiling as he wondered if there was more to life than just lessons, lessons, lessons. If there was anything actually interesting out there for him, away from the Gojo Estate somewhere. Something fun and exciting, something he could look forward to—

Oh, there was definitely something alright, he thought. And it was currently sitting on top of that very same bed, looking up at him curiously.

“You’re really spaced out today,” Yura commented, and he was suddenly brought back to the present. No more getting distracted, he thought to himself.

“Well, you know,” he started, letting his eyes focus on Yura’s bare skin, the fabric of her underwear hiding the most interesting bits from him... for now. “I’ve just never had sex with anyone in here before.”

Yura looked at him with amusement in her eyes, tilting her head at him for a moment. “I mean, you’re not gonna be having any sex if you just stand there like a doofus,” she said. Satoru had to admit that she had a point. “So, strip.”

And to emphasize her point, Yura reached behind her and unclasped her bra, promptly tugging it off to throw it at him.

Ah, fucking hell... what a sight.

The garment smacked him on the face as Satoru kept staring, his eyes completely focused on her bare chest. Then he immediately startled himself into action, quickly pulling off his sweater and undershirt in one go before reaching down to undo his belt. His pants felt tight as he pushed them down his legs, tossing them off to the side as he rushed towards the bed, his eyes set on one singular goal—and he didn’t waste a second as he moved towards Yura, finally landing face-first on one of her wonderfully soft breasts.

Yura gasped as his mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking on it and letting his tongue swirl around the hardened bud. One of her hands slipped into his hair as she leaned back but still pushed her chest forward, and Satoru hummed in approval—definitely a better angle for him to delight himself there. He could never get enough of the way she felt in his mouth, how it felt when he sucked the bud and some of the softness inside before releasing it and tasting her skin with his tongue. And he couldn’t just focus on one, that just wouldn’t be fair—so he removed his mouth from her before quickly capturing her other breast instead.

This was a much better end to a boring clan event, that’s for sure. This might just be the most fun he’d ever had in the Gojo Estate—ever.

And Satoru could have stayed there on Yura’s chest for hours—if Yura herself hadn’t gotten impatient, grabbing his head and pulling him up to hers. Their mouths met again and Satoru couldn’t complain, and as Yura’s hand found his own chest, sliding over his skin and making him shiver—he could complain even less.

Yura ran her hands over his muscles, squeezing at his skin, briefly pinching his own nipples and making his breath hitch. But Yura wasn’t satisfied with just that, no; as their tongues brushed against each other, her hand moved lower. Satoru’s mind was definitely paying close attention to her scorching touch, but still—as her hand finally squeezed him over his underwear, he almost jumped in surprise, grunting against her mouth at the feeling.

Yura pulled away from him then, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to see the cheeky grin she was sporting. But his mind was otherwise preoccupied, as her mouth had left his but not her hand—she was still massaging him over the fabric of his underwear, and if Satoru hadn’t been painfully hard before, he definitely was now.

“Satoru,” she called, and he eventually opened his eyes to meet hers. Her hand continued her ministrations down below, and his hips were almost rolling into her touch. “You said you had never had sex in here before, didn’t you?”

Satoru only vaguely hummed an agreement, letting the hand that had slipped into her hair slide down her front, absentmindedly squeezing one of her breasts.

Her grin widened. “What about a blowjob?”

Satoru suddenly froze. His eyes opened wider as he stared at her.

Yura, Yura, Yura...

Why was she always so good to him?

Yura’s cheeky grin never wavered as she pushed him back, sadly removing her hand from him, but he still throbbed nonetheless at the thought of what was to come.

What was to come—heh.

Hopefully him. And her. And her again. And them both—

Yura guided him to sit back down at the edge of the bed, rotating his body along with her as she stepped back onto the floor. She shot him a look as she stood in front of him, although Satoru got a little distracted by her bare chest right in front of his eyes. But when she bent down, tugging his underwear down his hips, Satoru eagerly assisted with its removal—almost dazedly watching as she finally knelt down between his legs, her hands on his thighs.

And when she finally grasped his member in her hand, he went a little crazy. Then she took him into her mouth and he almost went full insane.

Truly, he could never get tired of this. Actually, Yura only seemed to be getting better and better at this kind of thing every time she knelt down between his legs—she ran her tongue over him just right, she sucked him in just the right amount, her mouth and hands working in tandem to make him fully lose it.

Satoru threw his head back, one of his hands slipping into her hair but still letting her do whatever she needed to do—she sure didn’t seem to need his help. But then his eyes opened, lowering his head back down to take in the sight between his legs—and he instead ended up catching sight of everything instead, his brain once again struck by just where they were, and who he was with. He had so many memories of this place, of this room, most of them not particularly happy or fun; and now, Yura was there. In the middle of all of it. Her presence warming up this cold room... in more ways than one. (His body sure was getting very hot.)

Yura was bobbing her head up and down on him, and the feeling of him sliding in and out of her hot mouth was definitely getting him close. Too close, but also not close enough—something inside of him wanted to bury himself in her completely, so this wouldn’t do.

Yura shot him a questioning look as he pushed her back, still keeping him in her hands. But he didn’t say anything as he surged forward, wrapping an arm around her torso to tug her to him as he hitched one of her legs over his hip. Her arms came up to hold on to his shoulders as he maneuvered them both around, swiftly depositing her on the bed and positioning himself between her legs.

Satoru had to stop for a moment to admire the sight again, of Yura in this bed, his bed—in this room. It brought a weird, warm feeling to his stomach that Satoru couldn’t quite name, so he decided to push it all aside as he lowered himself on top of her to capture her lips with his own again.

It felt both strange and familiar, being with Yura like this here. Comfortingly familiar was when he let his hand slide down her body, squeezing a soft breast in the process, and found the waistband of her underwear; strange was when he pulled back briefly to tug the undergarment down her legs and caught sight of Yura sprawled out bare in the same bed he’d spent the first half of his life in.

His once home—his clan home. The place he’d thought he would only ever bring his eventual wife to, for... well, this.

Yura’s hands started groping his chest in the best way possible as he lowered himself back down to her, locking their lips together again. Their mouths were sloppy against each other, hands all over the other’s body, and Satoru couldn’t take it anymore—he wanted to be back in her, now. Not her mouth, this time; instead, his hand slid down to grab at his own member, Yura letting out a small gasp as he immediately pressed his length against her, slipping between her folds. He rubbed himself up and down there, coating himself in her wetness, letting the head of him slip down to briefly press against her entrance before sliding back up, rubbing himself against her clit before sliding down again. It was only a tease, really; even as Satoru was feeling a little impatient, his body craving more of her heat, he wanted to make sure it would be a... smooth ride inside, one might say.

But it seemed that Yura herself was also growing restless; every time that he slid down on her folds, pressing against her entrance, her hips would roll up against him as she almost urged him in. And who was he to continue denying her?

So the next time he slid down and found her entrance, he finally notched himself inside and pushed into her.

His forehead dropped to the bed next to her head, the feeling of being continuously squeezed by her walls incomparable to anything else. She felt so hot and so tight as he slowly sheathed himself inside, feeling her fingers pressing down on his back and urging him in further. Which was what he did—he kept pressing in, feeling her walls stretching open to accommodate him. His free hand eventually slid down to grasp at her hip and angle it up, allowing him to finally slot himself all the way inside; and as his hips met hers, feeling himself fully encased in her, he let out a shuddering breath against her ear.

There truly was no other feeling like this in the world. It was like sliding home; not just the way her tight heat wrapped around his member, but the way she was wrapped all over him—her legs bracketing his hips, her chest brushing against his with every breath she took, her hand digging into his back as her other hand slid down to grasp at his buttocks—it was almost like all of her was trying to urge him in even deeper.

So he obliged. He shifted his hips even closer, feeling himself push in just a tad bit deeper.

He really could stay here like this forever, couldn’t he?

Satoru breathed in and out against the side of her head, just basking in the feeling.

...Okay, so he could stay here forever, but maybe not stay still—his body started craving more, so he eventually started to move his hips slowly. He pulled himself out, then slid back all the way in, his nose pressed against the side of her head, nuzzling in as he breathed in her scent. Satoru was enjoying himself a little too much feeling the ridges of her walls drag over his length almost painfully slowly, but somehow just right.

He wasn’t going to continue with this pace all night, of course. There was more fun to be had.

His hips started moving faster, thrusting down into her. Her touch began drifting all over his body as he moved himself in and out of her with increasing speed, and her hands managed to leave both shivers and a scorching trail in their wake. It only drove him further, his hips thrusting into her faster, the continued squeeze and release of her walls around him making his muscles tense as he craved more. More heat, more speed, more space to move—the hand that had been grasping her hip moved up to her leg instead, urging her thighs to spread wider for him, and she wordlessly obliged. Something in his stomach coiled in pleasure as she gave him full unrestricted access to her heat, and he took full advantage of that to thrust into her unimpeded.

Satoru’s mind had long disconnected from the situation, letting his body’s natural impulses drive him along. As his hips kept moving, his nose and lips continued trying to press themselves closer to her, nuzzling the side of her head, his lips finding a combination of skin and hair and more skin as his face brushed against her. As Yura’s thighs fell open completely and he no longer had the need to hold them that way, he was able to free up his hand to happily start exploring her body with his touch... immediately finding her breast again and squeezing her softness in his hand once more.

There was nothing else at that moment but him and her, together. And Satoru would have liked it to stay that way—so when he sensed a familiar energy approaching, his Six Eyes glancing through the walls to the outside on instinct alone, he suddenly snapped his hips into her with an annoyed grunt and stayed there.

Yura, in turn, let out a gasp at the sudden roughness, her walls squeezing him briefly and making him realize just what he’d done. Oops would have been his thought if it hadn’t actually felt good.

“What?” Yura breathed out, half confused and half dazed at the feeling. “What... is it?”

Satoru’s eyes briefly glanced at the figure of his father standing outside of his quarters before sliding his gaze away (this was not what he wanted to be looking at in the middle of sex). But when he raised himself up slightly on his elbow to meet Yura’s eyes—the sight of her flushed face as he stayed buried inside of her had him pause for a moment.

“Just...” he eventually said. “An annoying visitor. He’ll go away soon enough.” Satoru had long made sure that his family were not to go inside his quarters without permission, so his father would eventually just leave once he got no answer.

Yura glanced up in the direction of the bedroom door before looking up at him. “...You don’t think they can hear us, can they?”

“Probably not,” Satoru answered, and immediately snapped his hips into hers again, making her bite back a gasp. He grinned.

Yura shot him a mock-annoyed look, but when he thrust into her again, she definitely looked like she was enjoying it.

He wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing them—his quarters were at the far end of this building, and there was still the whole living area between the bedroom and the outside... even if the walls weren’t really all that thick.

“Besides,” Satoru said, his voice coming out a little breathless as his hips continued the harsher thrusting into her. “I told you... my family would probably throw a party... if they knew what we’ve been doing.”

Yura’s face was scrunching up in pleasure as she tried keeping her eyes open to look up at him. “I don’t think... I don’t think it’s the sex part... they’re interested in.”

“No...” Satoru agreed. His mouth was slightly parted as he stared down at her flushed face, and he was pretty sure his was the same way. “They just want the resulting bit.” And he thrust himself into her again.

Yura’s eyes met his, a strange look passing between the two of them. “...That does have to come... from somewhere,” she said, her voice amused.

And when he thought of where that somewhere might be, it made his hips immediately snap into her without his permission, his head suddenly spinning.

Following this new pace, Satoru’s hips continued moving in rough, deep thrusts, while he still kept himself raised slightly above her in one arm. This meant that his eyes never left hers, despite their occasional fluttering, that same strange look still lingering in the air.

“So...” Yura let out, her eyes fluttering more and more as he increased his pace. “Is that what they would think... that we’re doing?”

“Yep,” he replied, his eyes never wavering from her face as his mouth worked on its own, seemingly disconnected from his brain... “That this is me putting a baby in you.”

When the words finally registered in his own ears, his hips suddenly snapped into her harder. Well, shit.

And it took him a second to register the fact that Yura’s own hand had drifted down her body, reaching the nub there and rubbing. Her eyes had fluttered closed, but she managed to force them open as she stared up at him. “...Well, you can try,” she breathed out, her voice a mix of amusement, defiance, and a simple statement of a fact.

It drove Satoru insane, and his hips only matched the state of his brain.

Yeah, he could try.

Satoru’s gaze locked on the golden flecks of her eyes as he pushed himself into her, the only thing going through his head was her name on repeat like a mantra going Yura, Yura, Yura—

He only vaguely noticed her hand increasing speed between her legs, as her face started to shift and scrunch up more often. He matched her pace with his hips, driving himself into her again and again and again—

Until when Yura suddenly cried out, throwing her head back and arching into him. The sight, the sound, the feeling—it was all too much, immediately pushing him over the edge, and he drove himself in as far as he could go with a cry of his own. His hips were pressed flush against hers as his climax hit him, and he finally released himself fully inside of her.

As waves of pleasure crashed over him, Satoru buried his head against the side of her neck again as he curled himself into her. He could feel himself spilling deep inside of her, her walls spasming around him and milking him for all that he’s worth. The head of his length was definitely pressed against something inside as he tried to push himself in even further, and if he knew enough biology, considering what they had just been saying—

Well, the thought of his release slipping into her womb was already getting him ready for round two.

(...If it weren’t for birth control, his family would have definitely already gotten that heir they want so much.)

But for the moment, Satoru allowed his muscles to relax.

The way their chests moved against one another as they both caught their breaths was almost hypnotic as he came down from his high. His senses were overwhelmed with Yura—all Yura.

...He wasn’t complaining. He only pressed a kiss against her jawline when he had finally recovered enough.

“That’s... one hell of an after-party,” she eventually breathed out, and Satoru had to huff out a laugh as he raised himself on one arm again.

“Much better than the party itself,” he added, peering down at her. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair wild around her head, and he raised his free hand to brush some stray strands away from her face.

“I mean...” Yura looked up at him, her lips tugging up into a cheeky grin. “That’s not saying much...”

Satoru’s mouth widened into a grin of his own. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure the after-party lasts as long as the actual party did,” he said, and to punctuate his words, he rolled his hips against hers, feeling him move inside of her still.

Yura huffed, amused. “Of course,” she said. Her legs came up to wrap themselves around his waist, locking him in.

This was, one hundred percent, the most fun he’d ever had inside his family home.

End notes: So, what we've gathered from this oneshot and the previous one (Movie Night) is that yes, both Satoru and Yura have developed breeding kinks. Yes, that is his family's fault for bringing up heirs so much. No, they're still in denial over their own feelings even though it was staring at them right in the face.

Anyway, I really like exploring Satoru's character, and I really like writing smut lmao. Best of both worlds! Throw in a lot of Satoru completely glossing over his own feelings and we've got a wining combo here!

I did have to rush to get this out before I could post the next chapter of the main fic, because the vibes...... might shift a bit in the near future in the main story. So the main fic will still take me a little more time, but have this as a treat until then! 

[oh-shtars]

The Astral Realm ✨

(aka infodumping RFTS!AU stuff for fun)

I remembered saying at one point that I’ll do a post just spatting out my ideas for the universe that Wishing Stars reside in and well, here’s that post!

First and foremost, I want to clarify that since the stars live in a completely different universe/reality, the terminology used here is not going to be completely accurate to space in real-life. This is really just my imagination running wild. 😅

Without further ado, here’s stuff under the cut ⬇️

The Realm:

I was inspired a bit by the “In Between Realm” that was featured in The Owl House. (LOVE that show btw 💖). And I remembered Disney attempted to make ‘Wish’ the starting point in a Disney interconnected universe with Asha being the first Fairy Godmother and all those references. And stuff-

Sooo, I kind of played with those two ideas. :))

The Owl House described the “In Between Realm” as the ‘connection of worlds’ or the ‘cosmic glue in between realms.’ Somewhere where its inhabitants can look through places of different realms. So my head clicked and I thought, what if the Astral Realm is like the “In-between Realm?”

The Astral Realm is the cosmic space found in between multiple different Disney universes. After all, presumably everyone looks up to the same sky and see the same stars, right? Let me explain it a little more clearly.

In TOH, each cube is a way to look into one realm. Papa Titan mentioned that they can look into more places than just the Human and Demon realm. In the RFTS!AU, it’s like that but at a much bigger scale.

I was thinking that instead of small cubes, it’s galaxies and they’re like the size of islands scattered across the black ocean space of the Astral realm. Each galaxy is a seperate Disney universe. (One for Snow White. One for Tangled, etc.)

The stars can fly or swim in between these islands and can land to rest on any of them if they’d like. But they’ll always have a sense of where their home island/galaxy is. But mostly, I think they’ll just be zooming around and floating around in the vast space, playing with dust clouds and space rocks.

Btw, Wishing Stars can move around freely a lot in the Astral Realm to their heart’s content. But humans from their realm will still see them as unmoving regardless. After all, they’re in seperate realities.

In a way, the Disneyverse is sort of interconnected but also not really?? They’re still separated by this ‘cosmic glue’ in between them but they’re pretty close by in a sense. Wishing stars reside within this “cosmic glue” and they’re the very same stars that listen to people’s wishes no matter what Disney universe they’re in.

………

Within One Galaxy:

As I’ve mentioned, one galaxy is like one island surrounded by the ocean of space. (An island that looks like the above pic ⬆️) And one island is a seperate Disney universe. Stars could choose to land on an island and just really chill there or whatever.

I think that the outsides around it when zooming into what it looks like within, is just a forest similar to what Disney likes to set most of its stories in. (Ex: Bambi, Sleeping Beauty, Robin Hood.) In contrast to the mortal realms, I like to think the Astral realm is leaning more onto a nature-themed home instead of built villages and castles that humans have. Take these images for example but make it more nebula-ish and sparkly.

There’s forests, caves, “Water” bodies and all that on each island. But in the very middle of each ‘galaxy’ is a more special place:

………

The Wishing Meadow:

The place is exactly as it sounds. In the very middle of each island is a lake(?) where most rivers and creeks often originate from. But all ‘water’ bodies are the stars’ way of looking down at the living mortals that belong in this specific island’s universe.

Only every time the sky is clear at night does the water turn transparent, and they can people-watch.

But surrounding the main lake in the middle, is the “Wishing Meadow” where all wishes made from the heart go. Simpler ones grow into flowers that litter around the area. Glowing brightly and in different sizes depending on what kind of wish it is. The more complex ones grow into fruit among the leaves of the few trees in the meadow.

(My sister commented on the meadow sounding like the “Echo Flowers” from Undertale, and honestly? That’s pretty sick-)

Wishing stars can either listen to the music emitted by the flowers that only they can hear. (Because I like to think each wish has a unique melody. Like “How Far I’ll Go” is more determined with a stronger beat, compared to “Part of Your World” is softer because they each have different emotions.).

OR the stars can choose to harness a wish from a flower and use magic to guide their wishmaker from the sky through some magic intervention. (What powers their ability to magically assist is passion derived from the wish itself.)

Complex Wishes as fruit from the trees are only allowed to be picked by more mature stars since they have more experience. (These are also the only kind that will allow a star to travel down to the mortal realm if needed.)

Doodles: 🎨

I’ve made some of my own art as a way to brainstorm this concept and the ideas I’ve mentioned above.

I spent way too much time thinking about something that won’t be a major part in my story anyway. Lol. Oh well, this was fun either way.

So yeah, basically, this is Sueño’s home realm everyone!! If you want to ask anything about this, feel free to do so. I’m just rambling again and still sort of developing stuff anyway.

[feyofmay]

The Righthand Man

Laurie x March!Reader Summary: Assisting in making the costumes for Jo's upcoming show, Y/N, who is love with Laurie, is forced to spend time with Laurie, who is in love with Jo. Angst ensues. word count: 2.8k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, angst, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3.

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

A trickle of syrupy scarlet begins to pool and form a bubble on the tip of the young girl’s finger. However, the sight of blood does not squeeze even a squeal out of her. Rather, all she does is sigh and place the finger between her lips. Between her lips, a row of pins rest beside her finger like a line of spiked fences, a warning to wandering souls. With her free hand, she guides the loose fabric to curl around her waist. 

“I must be the prettiest. I am the princess,” her younger sister declares like true royalty as she remains still under the middle March’s touch. Humming in agreement, she pulls her finger from her lips and leads the needle down a familiar trail. Although the house is always a little bit of a mess, in the most recent days it has grown into a beast of its own. Pieces of fabric are strung about everywhere, and loose pages of noted and edited scripts cover the floor as a gray and white layer of snow in autumn. A sheen of dust and the stink of old paper and musty fabric smothers in the autumn air. Without a knock, a boy enters, carrying the autumn breeze on the edges of his footsteps. Lost in her work, the middle March doesn’t pay any mind to anything outside of the glimmer of her needle as she works to avoid the wrath of her younger sister. If the needle is to even brush against her skin, the younger March will inform the whole neighborhood of the atrocity her sister has committed. Adorning a heather gray wool skirt, of which some other sisters have surely worn in seasons past, her heather purple bolero pinches around her collar and floats over her white collar shirt and black bodice. 

“I’m sure you will-” She begins, speaking around the pins in her mouth.

“Ducky, how’s the costume coming along?”

“- be. Just don’t paint the fabric without asking me first again,” Ducky continues while their older sister speaks around her. Like a knight in battle, the eldest of the three forces through the chaos of their home.

“Jo, you better have removed the part where I have to kiss a toad!” the youngest of the present sisters yells out to Jo. Ducky places her palm against the youngest’s stomach as a way to calm her and tell her to refrain from moving.

“Amy, you have to stay still, or I’ll poke you,” Ducky reminds her before returning to sewing the draping robin blue fabric. All of their conversation overlaps and forms a symphony of dissonant harmonies.

“I’m nearly finished with Amy’s, and all I have of Meg’s is final fittings, she’s putting hers on right now -” Ducky begins as she begins looping the thread into itself, forming a knot. 

“Perfect, we’re just behind schedule!” Jo continues her own tangent while she stations herself besides Ducky and begins to digest Amy's appearance.

“- and then all I have left is to make your jacket, and figure out Laurie’s ensemble, and I’m unsure what you want for me, regarding ‘my part’ in the show, itself,” Ducky trails off as she picks up her scissors and frees her needle from the taut thread caught in the knot of Amy’s dress. A heap of  tulle the color of a robin’s egg and a mellow baby blue silk cascade from underneath her beaded white bodice like a waterfall. Hours and hours have been spent on beading the bodice, alone, and, with sweat, time, and a minimal amount of blood, the middle March has managed to piece together the costumes for Jo’s newest and best show. 

“You’re going to be the wise old witch who lives in the forest -” Jo starts to fall into her tangent as she waves her hands. In her right hand, the newest version of her script resides.

“I’m only acting because Marmee’s done getting involved in your shows,” Ducky confirms.

“- Well, yes, but that doesn’t make your role any less important,” Jo reminds her as Ducky rises to her feet and brushes off her skirt. Blood rushes into her legs and feeling finally slips back into her feet after sitting for hours on the rickety wooden stool. As the teen boy discards his jacket, Jo is alerted of his presence and her attention shoots over to him. Rushing over to him, her arms shoot out to greet him. 

“Teddy!” Jo shouts when she’s engulfed in a hug. The two prattle on in a quick back and forth of banter and quips, and Amy waddles off to the mirror so she can properly admire herself. Leaving Ducky all by her lonesome, she sets down the pins between her lips and straightens up her makeshift sewing station. As she collects the spools of thread that had attempted to escape the nest of odd bobbins and spools of an assortment of colors of thread, she can't prevent her eyes from glancing over at the teen boy who’s attempting to swallow Jo in a hug. While she’s too young to wade deeper into her own emotions, she’s perturbed by the small pest named Envy that nips at the walls of heart. She’s not mad, not angry at either her sister or the boy, but she wants to be hugged like that. She wants to be seen & touched with the same feeling of “I feel you, and, therefore, I know you”. For a brief moment, the stories of far fetched courtship and romance are a faint taste on the tip of her tongue, real and tangy. Seeing her younger sister and being old enough to swim in the depths of her own feelings, the eldest March strolls over as a wreath of wisdom hangs around her head. With a knowing gaze and sturdy smile, she bends down so her lips are the same height as Ducky’s ear.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” she whispers to her younger sister as her words bubble up into a giggle. Ducky’s head shoots around to look at her older sister. A similar shade of red to the wound on her finger soaks into her entire face. Her nails dig into her palms, and her chest shutters from the pounding of her heart.

“Shut it, Meg!” she mutters out while gathering the last bobbins and placing them back into the small heap of thread. Laughing over the embarrassment of a young lover, Meg presses a hand against Ducky’s shoulder before gliding over to assist in admiring Amy’s dress by the mirror.

“Ducky, what have you planned for the right hand man to the hero, the protagonist, of my tale?” Jo enthuses as she rushes over to the younger sister’s station. Scooping up a pile of concepts and measurements all messily scrawled across different sheets of paper in looping, unfocused handwriting, the middle March digs through the loose scraps of paper until pulling out several ideas all scribbled on with a stick of graphite and colored pencils. Jo leans over to peer at the drawn figures, and the teen boy mirrors her movements. Sketched onto the paper in coagulating shapes, a drawing of a man clad in a puffy nectarine orange jacket in gold trim and forest green waistcoat dawns the garments over a pair of orange slacks in a matching shade and white high collar shirt with a forest green and orange striped cravat. 

“Perhaps the costume will make up for the fact that you can’t act,” Jo quips out as the two gaze at the young girl’s sketches. Teddy whips his head around to glare at the elder sister as she begins to leap away. Never does Jo simply “walk”, rather, her spirits carry the heels of her weathered leather boots just an inch above the physical Earth. To Ducky, Jo is beyond what any human can promise to be. After all, no mere human of flesh and blood could survive carrying the weight of tenacity and creativity like her sister does. Jo flings her body around and contorts it like a hanging rag left to dry in the wind, and the taupe skirt of her dress wrings her as she flips around to face Teddy.

“You wound me so,” he replies with a filling smile. Jo’s hand flies up to smack Teddy’s forearm. 

“Good, make use of that anguish in scene fourteen,” Jo quickly snips back as she starts to float away with the spirit of genius, her true paramore, “Now, stand here and do whatever Ducky tells you to do without any complaint.”

“What if she stabs me?” Laurie whines while he finds his place where Amy had recently stood before him. 

“I don’t want to hear any of it! You most likely deserve it, anyways,” Jo declares before rushing away to join her two other sisters by the mirror. A squeal of delight leaves Amy’s lips as she scampers away, chasing a distant thought that rattles around in her head.

“I’ll paint my shoes to match!” Amy giggles as she rushes off, leaving the two other sisters to follow her in quick pursuit. With a small smile, Ducky attempts to silently apologize for her sisters’ behaviors.

“Never a dull moment, eh?” Teddy eases her with a knowing glance, and she shares the look while flipping to a blank page in her notepad. Grabbing her measuring tape from around her neck, the middle March brushes back a few strands of hair that had escaped from her makeshift updo, kept together only by a single piece of loose, pale pink ribbon. Lightly gripping his forearms, her fingers sink into the billowing fabric of his watery gray shirt. 

“I’ll need to take your measurements. If I touch you in any way that’s discomforting, let me know,” she explains to him as she guides his arms up to extend out like a child’s when they’re pretending to be an airplane. The tips of his fingers brush against the fading cream and pink flowers that orner the sage green background of the wallpaper that, over the past years, has been dented and scraped from calloused yet tender fingers of youth. Nodding in reply, he stands stalk still as she wraps the measuring tape around his arm before jotting down the measurements in her small notebook. 

“Jo told me that you're some sort of expert seamstress,” Laurie informs her, speaking to try and swallow the silence that the two of them are sinking in. As the tips of her fingers brush against his, a pursed smile tucks itself into her lips. 

“I’m nothing close to that, but I do sew,” Ducky corrects him while she slips the tape around his neck, continuing her work. 

“Is that your big dream? Jo will be a writer, Meg will act, Amy will paint and Beth plays, and you’ll sew?” he asks with a sense of genuine inquisitiveness, tilting his head back as she leans in to better see the faded numbers, leaving about a hand’s width of space between his face and hers. However, as she’s consumed by her work, she isn’t sent awry by the lack of distance between the two. Whispering the measurement to herself, she ushers back to her notepad and copies down the digits, pausing from the conversation to focus on her craft. 

“No, no, that’s Jo’s dream for me,” she admits while shuffling to loop the tape around his bust. 

“Well then, what will you be?” Laurie continues as he raises his hands above his head to allow Ducky to reach around him comfortably. She pauses for a moment, both engulfed in her work and unsure how to answer his question. Tendrils of sunlight begin poking through the window as the sky starts to fade to a rusty hue. 

“I’m not quite sure,” she begins as she turns to copy more digits before adjusting the tape to next measure his hips, “Far. Free, not depending on any man to live how I want to.” Listing off her floating aspirations, Teddy gazes down and watches her precise fingers whisper a secret against the rippling powder blue, silk fabric of his waistcoat.

“What about you? What’s your dream?” she swings the question back to him, and he’s slightly taken aback by her forwardness. Often entranced by Jo and her wild acclaims of the future, he’s yet to think about what it is that he wants. Pursing his lips, the boy considers several archived visions of an ideal future that he’s contemplated in the past. 

“Well, I want to marry a woman. I want to spend my days free from tutoring, content to do whatever I please whenever I’d please. Maybe I’d settle down and put my musical talents to some use, as they’re the only talents my grandfather thinks has worth,” Teddy admits, and, as he discusses his aspirations for his future, a dull ache washes over Ducky, and she’s faced with an answer that’s unfamiliar to her. When her sisters are faced with the question “what do you dream?” every single one of them has a secret truth that is inlaid in the very foundation of their mind. They dream of safety. Of a home that is good enough, and a husband that is kind enough. Of a life that is fulfilling enough. They dream of the brink of enough, of simply a little more than bearable. A man can dream of happiness, but a woman only hopes for enough. Only has Jo honestly strayed from this path, as even Amy, with age, begins to share the three other March’s mindset. Jo continues to strive for greatness, and Ducky can do nothing but admire her for it.

“I sincerely pray for a safe and speedy recovery to any woman who falls for your ‘charms’,” Ducky retorts, and, for a second, her own tone reminds her greatly of Meg. The eldest sister always spoke with a sense of grace and intellect that Ducky found surreal. How could one speak like a bubbling brook flows? For a moment, as the words dribble out from her lips, Ducky is filled with the same rush of ease that she often feels when Meg is teasing Jo. As if called on by a greater divinity, just as Ducky finishes her measurements, Jo and Meg rush back over, with Meg sporting a new, oily black mustache painted onto her face. 

“Teddy, come quickly,” Jo commands to her companion, snatching his arm and dragging him along before he has time to digest her words. There’s no goodbye or reply as he follows behind Jo like a puppy on her heel. As he’s hurried away, Ducky’s eyes linger on his stumbling frame as the timid smile from her lips falls. The middle March begins to curl into herself as the eldest ushers across the dining, over to her sister. Meg rests her cheek against the side of Ducky’s head as, with her embrace, she shields Ducky from the world’s eye. 

“Ducky, tell me plainly and you mustn't lie. Do you fancy him, Teddy?” she asks her younger sister, but both of them already know the answer without speaking. Closing her notepad, Ducky doesn’t even glance up at her sister as she presses her weight into her older sister’s frame. The younger March curls up into her sister’s embrace and folds herself into the young girl that used to hide in Meg’s nightgowns as shrieking thunderstorms raged through the night.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. He’s already in love with Jo,” she mutters into her sister’s chest as she wallows and wades in her own misery. Of course he loves Jo, who couldn’t fall in love with Jo? When she’s basking in the light of her own flowing talent and erudition, everyone falls in love with her. Jo is everything every mother never wants her daughter to be, and, in that right, she is what every mother prays her daughter becomes. She has never changed and, yet, is constantly born anew with each day. Never a lady, but yet an adult, wise yet naive to the weight of the world, everybody is in love with Jo, and this love holds no romantic intention. Rather, it is a deep well of devotion to a person that fills a lover’s stomach and renders one completely whole. To love someone entirely is to find peace within yourself and be content with one’s nature when in the presence of the one you love. So, in this manner, Ducky is entirely in love with Jo.

“It matters a great deal to me how you feel,” her older sister reminds her while strands of Ducky’s hair begin to curl around and hug Meg’s finger, “I’ll always want to hear about your feelings, no matter how large or pointless they may seem.” Silently, the two of them bask in each other’s embrace, and, without a word, Ducky knows her older sister understands her emotions inside & out. In her arms, she feels protected from everything, come snow or hail. In her arms, she is safe to be a young, scared girl.

Please comment & repost, & check out the whole fic :)). If you want me to add u to a taglist, lmk, & please send any laurie x reader drabble/fic requests my way!! I'd love to hear y'alls ideas! Have a lovely rest of your day, friends! <3

[laracrofted]

we'd run inside out from the cold (part ii)

synopsis: after a quiet moment in the snow, jake and his girlfriend warm up with a midnight shower. (read part one here)

pairings: jake seresin x fem!reader (no y/n, c/s is butterfly)

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fluff and smut - shower sex and oral (f receiving), mentions of christmas, excessive use of pet names, waxing poetic about jake in sweaters, swearing (wc: 2.5K)

note: welcome to the steamier (lol) part two of the soft christmas fic... aka the shower smut that jake implied against my best intentions. enjoy!

tag list for people who wanted a part two: @theharddeck @six-bloodyminutes @thedroneranger @blue-aconite @dhwanishah09

It is pitch back in the living room without the glow of the Christmas lights, but Jake finds your hand in the dark, engulfing your still chilled fingers in his reliable warmth.

You’d forgotten to grab the spare mittens on your way outside, the ones from the shoebox in the hall closet that Ms. Seresin showed you on your first afternoon here. 

“Shit,” Jake lets out a hushed curse, cradling your one hand between his palms. Hot breath blows across your cold fingertips in the darkness. You smile where Jake can’t see. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you warmed up.” 

You expect him to guide you up the stairs, steering you around the steps that might creak too loud, lifting you over the third and second-to-last steps like last night. Hands, a familiar heat around your waist. 

He pulls you in a different direction, further into the house. 

Snow is floating down outside the paned window at the end of the dim hall, casting everything in a soft white glow. Moonlight winks off the assorted picture frames, hung slightly crooked on the old wallpaper after Ms. Seresin took them down to show you the young Jake Seresin highlights one by one. He had the chubbiest little cheeks as a child and the same up to no good smile. 

He tugs you into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you, careful not to let it slam and break open the fragile silence. 

It is so quiet, so serene. Like the Seresin ranch exists in a freshly shaken snow globe, not a sprawl of land outside Austin, Texas. 

Something from a dream.  

“Don’t want to run the upstairs shower and wake Ma up.” 

You lean against the bathroom counter, arms crossed over the fabric of the worn crewneck sweatshirt that is really his, stolen from the top drawer of his dresser back in San Diego. You’ve been ‘borrowing’ it for months now without the slightest intention of giving it back, and Jake doesn’t mind one bit.

He likes you in his clothes. 

Jake darts around the bathroom, gathering a pile of fresh towels from the closet, pulling back the shower curtain and cranking the water on. He checks the temperature once, twice, and in the process, pushes the sleeve of his white sweater up to his elbows, revealing a tantalizing stretch of forearm. 

You are loving the cold weather for festive activities, but Jake has had to hide away all of that hard muscle this week under wool sweaters and flannel button-downs and in the case of the Christmas Tree Farm this afternoon, a denim jacket with a lined collar that made him look like an outdoorsy Abercrombie model.

Winter is... admittedly an excellent look on him.

Who knew that Jake would look so good – and so much like a long-lost Chris Evans relation – in a fisherman sweater? He looked so classically handsome, straight out of one of those vintage L.L. Bean catalogs. 

Sweater Jake was appealing in a way that surprised you both.

You, upon seeing him come down the stairs on that first night, wearing a thick cable knit sweater and flannel pajama pants, looking cuddly enough to make your heart ache.  

Him, upon sneaking into your room later that night, which ended with your sleep clothes strewn across the blankets and your boyfriend’s large hand across your mouth to muffle your moans. 

“Might I remind you… We agreed not to have sex in the house,” Jake mumbled into your neck afterward, too amused to sound chastising. He rolled onto his side and half-pulled you onto his bare chest, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple, interlacing your fingers on his stomach. “You’re the one who suggested that rule.” 

He had you there.

You had suggested that rule, nervous to go home with your boyfriend for the holidays, despite Jake’s repeated insistence that all of the Seresin women would adore you to bits. You didn’t want to give them any ammunition to dislike you – and especially not overheard sex noises in the dead of night after Ms. Seresin had so kindly made up the guest room for you.

“You wear the hell out of a sweater, babe,” was the only drowsy explanation you could provide, pushing up to leave an open-mouthed kiss on his jawline that made his breathing stall… which led directly into another round when Jake rolled you under his weight and pressed you into the pillows. 

Still…

You’d taken the mild San Diego weather for granted. Being able to see Jake in fitted tees and on the cooler nights, unbuttoned Henleys that gape at the neck, giving a delicious sneak peek of that gold chain.

You haven’t seen his washboard abs in such good lighting all week. 

You stare. More than is warranted, given Jake is your boyfriend and would probably rip off his shirt upon request without any follow-up questions. 

Muscles ripple in his abdomen when Jake pulls his sweater over his head, revealing even more tan skin. You want to drop to your knees and run your tongue along the line of his abs. Want to lick up his chest and get comfortable in that spot under his jaw that makes him moan. 

You should probably take off your sweater too and avoid hypothermia and get in the shower and all of those important details. 

You keep staring instead, absolutely shameless, and Jake catches you.

A smirk pulls at his mouth. “Planning to maul me again, darling?” 

Are you drooling? Probably a little bit. 

“Do you think Mav would let you wear sweaters in the cockpit?” 

He pretends to consider it. “Might get a little warm up there,” Jake says after a few seconds. Heat simmers in his gaze as Jake watches you back, pulling his bottom lip between his white teeth, and reaches out to sneak his index finger under the hem of your sweater. “Wool is probably a little more flammable than the Nomex too.” 

“Better than frostbite, right?”  

His smirk widens into a full-blown grin, and Jake pulls you into an embrace.

“Frostbite is no laughing matter,” Jake says against the back of your neck, tugging the collar of the sweater away and pressing a chaste kiss to your nape. Goosebumps erupt over the skin. “Better get undressed there, Butterfly, before I have to do it for you.” 

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, as if invoked, and despite the mild threat, Jake doesn’t give you the chance to get undressed.

Calloused palms slide along your bare back, tugging the sweater over your head, careful not to snag your hair. You push your pants and underwear down in one motion, casting off your socks along the way, and after shedding his own flannel pants and boxers, Jake bands a strong arm around your waist and tucks his chin over your shoulder.

He is a damn furnace against your back, already half-hard.

You swallow, and Jake studies you in the bathroom mirror, ghosting his fingertips across your stomach. A promise that makes every part of you tighten, and Jake presses a grin into your shoulder, kissing the small scar there. 

“Let’s get in the shower.” 

Steam rises around your bodies as Jake pulls the curtain closed and looks down at you. Affection warms his face, a soft glow. Fingers trace down your arms, somehow still covered in goosebumps from sitting out in the snow, and Jake asks, “Still cold?” 

Not really.

Not since before your boyfriend kissed you a few minutes ago, whispering dirty things in your ear about not being able to walk tomorrow. Not when Jake is looking at you like that with such adoration and tenderness and blatant desire in his green eyes. 

You catch a wicked gleam in his gaze, underneath it all, and decide to invite a little trouble. Make a whole show of shivering in a way that draws his split-second attention to your chest. 

“A little bit.” 

He leans in, naked chest pressed against yours, warm water cascading over your heads and down your back. Presses a white hot kiss to the center of your collarbone, then lifts your chin with one finger and nibbles up the side of your neck in a way that makes your lids flutter closed.

“Think I’ve got a good way to warm you up.” 

You’re facing him one minute and the next, Jake spins you to face the shower wall, pressing his whole body against yours. It is cold against your cheek and your bare chest. You shiver and complain, and Jake makes a sympathetic – if a bit mocking – noise against your throat. 

“Jake…” You don’t mean to sound so unbalanced. You love the man, but Jake doesn’t need the ego boost right now. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Jake says again, bringing back the same words from earlier, the same thread of teasing condescension in them. “Told you I’d go easy on you, didn’t I?” 

You don’t think Lieutenant Jake Seresin has ever gone easy on a damn thing in his life and have every intention of telling him so, but he is quicker to the draw. Every thought vanishes from your brain when Jake glides his hand down your stomach and touches you.

“God, darling…” He practically moans the words, rocking his hips against your back, which makes you push against the palm that’s there for you to grind against. He wants you to do it, to take your pleasure from him like that. “You’re so wet. How long’ve you been like this?” 

Since the Christmas Tree Farm. 

“No one has ever…” You start strong, but Jake runs his fingers through the slick wetness again, causing you to take a quick breather. “…chopped down a Christmas tree for me, okay? You were like a sexy lumberjack.” 

His chuckle is a low hum against the shell of your ear, and Jake abruptly withdraws his fingers, turning you around. You catch a flash of tongue as Jake slips his shining fingers into his mouth and sucks on them.

God. Damn.

“What do you think Mav will say when I tell him the news?” 

You stare at him, confused, brows knitting together, and Jake looks too amused and proud at his own wittiness to leave you in suspense. 

“Obviously, I won’t have time to be a fighter pilot while I’m learning how to become a full-time lumberjack for you.” Water drips from his lashes, making his eyes look liquid warm. “Is it just chopping down trees that gets you this hot? Can I maybe split some firewood instead? Might be more cost effective, less time consuming.” 

A giggle escapes your lips, and Jake laughs too, capturing the hands that want to cover your flushed cheeks. He winds his fingers through yours, pressing them back against the slippery tile.

“Stop it, Jake. You don’t need to change careers for me. You’re a damn good pilot, a great one. Just…” You gnaw the edge of your lip, studying a freckle on his shoulder, letting the words out in a hushed tone. “I’d settle for one tree every Christmas.” 

You meet his eyes, parsing out if Jake gets your meaning. 

You want every Christmas with him. 

Every damn one.

Tenderness shines in his eyes. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

You don’t have time to appreciate the warm and fuzzy feelings inside your chest because Jake rewards you with a too short kiss on the lips and then, smirking again, sinks down to his knees. 

“Now,” Jake says, looking up at you, splaying his hand across your stomach to hold you upright, “I think I said something about warming you up, sweetheart. Can’t have you go into Christmas cold or unsatisfied. What kind of boyfriend would I be then?” 

Any response evades you as Jake hooks your knee over his shoulder and dives right in, not even pausing to rev you up with teasing. Why bother? He already managed that with the damn Christmas tree. 

He spreads you open with his fingers, licking wet strokes across you. His non-regulation stubble chafes against your thighs, almost definitely leaving an angry beard burn that’ll hurt in your jeans tomorrow.

You couldn’t give less of a shit right now.

“Taste so good, darling,” Jake says, pulling back to sink one thick finger into you, then adding another, watching your face the whole time. “Sweeter than those Christmas cookies.” 

What a fucking cheeseball of a man. You’d roll your eyes if Jake didn’t already have them rolling back in your head.

Coyote, Rooster, Phoenix… None of them would believe that Jake was such a walking Hallmark movie. He doesn’t let anyone else see this side of him.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. Ain’t that right, darling?” 

You nod, dropping your head back against the shower wall with a gentle thump, and Jake swirls his broad tongue over your clit, once, twice, then… pulls back and looks up at you with expectant smugness.

“Don’t think I caught that. I’m the only one who…” 

You stifle a snort, rolling your eyes this time. Such an ass. 

He ghosts the slick pad of his thumb across your clit, teasing and taunting. You almost lose your balance, stretching out a hand to grasp at his shoulder, and Jake flashes you a self-satisfied grin.

“You’re the only one.” You nod fervently, digging your nails into his shoulder, canting your hips closer to his face. You can practically feel his breath against you, only centimeters away. “Come on, Jake…” 

He closes his lips around you, curling his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that makes your mouth gape open. His words are increasingly fragmented, bits and pieces of unintelligible nonsense as Jake encourages you to rock against his face. You are damn near floating with the pleasure of it all. 

“You’re so pretty like this.” 

“No one can hear us down here, darling. Let me hear those wonderful sounds.” 

“You’re it for me. Please…” Jake asks, begging, pleading, worshipping you.

You reach the precipice and fall over the edge in a whirlwind of bright spots that look like Christmas lights. Look like the December moon reflected and refracted in the fresh snow. It is absolute heaven.

From there, Jake could easily get up from his knees, push you back against the tile, and slide right into the spot between your thighs that’s wet and aching for him, waiting to be filled. But he stays right there, kneeling between your legs, absentmindedly stroking himself with one hand.

Looking at you like the luckiest man alive. 

“Give me one more, darling,” Jake gently orders, then goes back in with enthusiasm, holding your shaking thighs in place over his shoulder. 

You stay in the shower long enough to make the water run cold, and in the steam-filled bathroom, Jake gathers your limp form in his arms and bundles you both in fluffy towels... that end up immediately abandoned on the carpet of the guest bedroom. 

And after kissing every inch of your body, holding your hips hard enough to leave bruises, and fucking you into the soft sheets with stuttered breaths, fingers interlaced with yours, pressing kisses against your back to muffle his own groans, Jake holds you against his side. 

He brushes your hair back from your face, still damp from the shower, repeating the motion, tracing the curve of your jaw and the shell of your ear, back and forth.

And with the soft rush of snow blowing against the window, Jake whispers, “Merry Christmas, Butterfly.” 

end note: wishing you all a happy and safe holiday and a hot, cuddly boyfriend under the christmas tree. send me all your thoughts and feelings!

(and since it didn't make it into here, i actually do have a hc for the call sign butterfly, so i might revisit these two again sometime!)

[delopsia]

Soft Rhett Abbott Headcanons

I got carried away with the love languages request, and now I've got all these thoughts floating around my head. I might make a part 2 to this if anyone wants it, I have so many thoughts about this man :(

It took him nearly two weeks to work up the courage to even approach you, and he practically stumbled over every word when he asked to give you his number.

Only admitted to it one night when he was so drunk that he couldn't walk straight. If you bring it up, he turns bright red.

Has never had a proper birthday party. Growing up in the Abbott household meant birthdays were celebrated with a simple "happy birthday!" and that was that.

While Royal had him working for his 24th birthday, you busied yourself with getting a cake in his favorite flavor, decorating your place in balloons and streamers, the whole nine yards. When he walked in late that night, he took one long look at everything and just burst into tears.

"You didn't have to do all of this for me :(" but turns around and outdoes you every time your birthday rolls around.

Likes to use your shampoo and conditioner sometimes, just because he likes the smell of it and it reminds him of you.

You can do just about anything to him. Grab him by the neck and press him against the wall of a bar, paint his nails, practice putting makeup on him; he doesn't mind it at all. He's just happy to be there.

Really really, really loves it when you call him your sweet boy :(( visibly melts every time the phrase falls off your tongue.

"There's my sweet boy," the pet name slipping off your tongue like honey as you walk into the living room. Rhett's sitting on the floor, so perfectly concealed that you didn't see him there until your third pass by. "What're you working on?"

His scruffy cheek presses against your hip, "putting this end table together," you can hear the smile in his tone as he slowly blinks up at you like a cat.

Absolutely smitten.

On bad days, he buries his face in your belly and just stays there while you run your fingers through his hair. Will absolutely bat those pretty blue eyes up at you and pout if you take your hand away.

You get away with the things nobody else can.

Perry tested it once. Walked up behind Rhett and stole his hat right off his head, and Rhett just about took him to the ground. A little bit later, you did the same thing, and Rhett just smiled and said you could keep it until he had to go back to work.

There's one night when you really test it by showing up to the ranch unannounced, mid-blizzard, throwing rocks at his window until he wakes up.

"Darlin', have you gone mad?" Rhett yawns, his head poked halfway out the window, "what in the world are you up to down there?"

So barely awake that his eyes are still closed, but as you giggle, a goofy smile works its way over his tired features. "Come build a snowman with me?"

Five minutes later, Rhett's stumbling through the snow with you, robbing his driveway of rocks to make a face for your future family of snowmen. Not a complaint on his tongue or floating through his mind. If you want snowmen at three in the morning, then so does he.

Rhett does that thing in the morning, where he reaches over and drags you across the mattress until you're snug against his chest. Sleepily smiles and nuzzles his nose into your soft cheek.

He has zero problem making little grabby hands when he wants you in his arms. Genuinely does not care if his buddies at the rodeo think he looks silly when he does it, either.

Is going to call you small, even if you're a foot taller than him. He's going to find something to justify it, whether it be based on your height or something subtle, like how much bigger his hands are than yours.

"Rhett, I'm not that little" "But you're little to me :)"

Intentionally "forgets" his clothes at your place. There is nothing this man loves more than to see you wandering around in his clothes. It makes him feel so soft and mushy inside because here's this perfect little person mulling around the kitchen in his old hoodie.

Protective, but he's very good at knowing when he should and shouldn't step in. Will absolutely start a bar fight if that's what he needs to do to make someone respect your request to leave you alone.

Rhett's like one of those personal protection dogs. Bound to your hip, looking all menacing and ready to go whenever you feel unsafe. Will absolutely press his head into your hand when you scratch him behind the ear.

Ticklish to all hell, especially around his stomach and thighs. He starts giggling even when your fingers catch the skin there by accident, and he's in trouble if you decide to tickle him.

Giggles and squirms as he tries and fails to get you back, but even in his fit of laughter, he's very careful not to kick you. He will, however, wind up pinning you somehow, someway.

Kiss thief.

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, he's going to be stealing at least one kiss. Goodbye kisses, hello kisses, "just because" kisses.

Rhett could kiss you for hours and not get tired of it. It's such a delicate, intimate thing, and every kiss feels as dreamy as the first one to him.

Do you want to dance in the rain? Would you like to? Because Rhett can't dance to save his damn life, but he really, really wants to spin you around and kiss you in the pouring rain.

You give Rhett something that nobody has ever given him before. A purpose, a reason to wake up every day and work himself to the bone on his father's ranch,

When Rhett looks at you, he sees everything he has ever wanted.

You are the sun, and he is the moon because that bright smile on his face is a reflection of you.

[nightmare-foundation]

Rwby world building headcanons bc I have nothing better to do

-Dust grows like a plant, but specifically a really resilient plant. You can pop it down anywhere and before you know it, you have a little dust garden. Of course, when harvesting Dust you have to leave a little behind so it grows back, kinda like mushrooms. This is why Vacuo doesn't have a ton of Dust anymore; Mantle and Mistral both mined Dust so thoroughly they didn't leave anything behind. There's efforts to replant Dust though, and Vacuo is slowly getting better.

-Dust is EVERYWHERE, and since it's quite literally everywhere, it has... interesting effects, depending exactly on where and how much. Floating islands aren't unusual at all, and are common tourist destinations. There's thick jungles caused by plant Dust, and the reason why Menagerie has such a wide desert is partly because of Burn Dust. Dust creates many, many mystical sights. Because of how much Dust there is on the continent where the Grimmlands are, the weather and terrain is very volatile.

-Animals utilize both aura and Dust, and are generally far more intense than our animals. Animals have to compete with not just each other, but also humans and Grimm. Another note is that dinosaurs do, in fact, exist on Remnant. Imagine coming across an Ankylosaurus that has earth Dust in its tail, or massive scorpions that use lightning Dust. Yeah, this is the kind of shit people regularly deal with.

-Everyone and everything on Remnant is connected by a pretty minor telepathic field. It's how Grimm can sense emotions.

-Everything on Remnant varies a lot in size, and everything is generally more intense than on earth. Animals can be absolutely massive, and storms are naturally more powerful on Remnant. The power of hurricanes are a bit more strong than ours, and are very devastating. Animals are essentially buffed too.

-Humans/Faunus are far, far more powerful on Remnant due to a mix of evolution and aura. The most average of Huntsmen can easily lift thousands of pounds, and can run as fast as a cheetah. They also have 2 hearts to deal with the added stress on the body, and more powerful lungs (I'm not a biology nerd, don't ask me how it works). Size varies a lot as well, so people can be as small as 3-4 feet tall, to even up to 8 feet tall. They're also naturally far more intelligent, given everyone went from 1700s to scifi in less than a century and regularly make complicated mechashift weapons as children. The senses are also naturally boosted (and faunus still have far better senses. Good luck sneaking away from them).

-Vale is tropical and is much like Florida in terms of climate. Yes, there's tons of little lizards all over the place. However, it's colder in the winter, so they do occasionally get snow.

-Humans are far more resistant to things like temperature and radiation. Because of this, despite the constant blazing heat in Vacuo and the freezing cold in Solitas, humans could somewhat easily live there. It's definitely still possible to freeze to death or get heatstroke, though.

-There's many Oasis' in Vacuo that are there because of naturally occurring plant and water dust.

-Beneath Vacuo is an extremely large maze-like cave system. In the past, over the years, it was used as a sort of catacombs. Now, people are forbidden from venturing inside themselves. If you go in, there's a very good chance you'll never come back out. This cave system causes many sinkholes all over the desert, and Grimm and animals use it to travel.

-Around where Atlas is located, Solitas has a massive frozen sheet of ice connected to the rest of the continent. Atlas is located where the beach would be if the ice wasn't there.

-The naturally occurring metals on Remnant are far more tough, and the man-made metals are as well. These metals are often used to make Huntsman weapons due to their durability, and to reinforce and even make buildings in dangerous places.

-Years are 6 months long, but the months are twice as long as ours, being roughly 8 weeks long. Years are about the same length, but are a bit longer (rather than 365 days, there's almost 400 days).

-Humans naturally live a bit longer, if you don't consider the Grimm. The oldest recorded person was 120 years old.

-There's 4 zodiacs people use. The Grimm zodiac, the Dust zodiac, the animal zodiac, and the fairytale zodiac. Most of them range from 12-16 signs, but the Dust zodiac only has 6. Specific kingdoms are more likely to use specific zodiacs, such as Atlas using the Grimm zodiac, or Vale using the fairytale zodiac. The Animal zodiac was created by Faunus, and is slowly becoming widespread amongst Faunus outside of Menagerie. The White Fang use the Grimm zodiac alongside the Animal zodiac.

-Mistral is the most rich in resources, and while it's not the kingdom that has the most Dust, it still has quite a lot. Atlas is home to the most Dust-rich continent. The 'dragon' land in Mistral rivals it in how much Dust there is.

-Humans can be naturally born with unusual colors, like purple or red eyes, bright white hair, etc.

-Vale and Mistral are home to the oldest mountain range on Remnant, not unlike Appalachia. Yes, there's many superstitions.

-Ghosts do actually exist on Remnant, but they're more of a leftover of aura. They're not totally sentient beings.

-Each kingdom has their own language. Atlesian is the closest to English, but Mistralian can be compared to Japanese (with some places having languages similar to Korean or Chinese). Vacuan is similar to Arabic, but there's people who speak languages that are similar to Afrikaans or Xhosa. Valian can be compared to Welsh or Irish Gaelic, and there's also places where languages differ, and some languages can be compared to German, which is also widespread in Vale.

-Remnant in general is kind of a death world where everything wants to kill you.

-Theres descendants of the old royals of the kingdoms that are still alive. The King of Vales family, the Regalia's, are a wealthy and well known family, and even are part of the Vale council. The same can be said for the Mistrali Emperors descendants, the Yings.