#though it does seem more like she's staying at her mom's yes but like that guy could very well be part of that household

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Shameless

Tags: dad!Toji x fem!reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, breeding kink, he calls himself daddy

Synopsis: You’re Toji’s live-in nanny. He wants to breed you, and he successfully does so.

An: This is my story on ao3!! You can read it here. If you’re feeling extra nice, a kudos would be cool too.

Being a single dad was hard. Toji learned quickly after his wife's death that he in fact couldn't do this alone. The way little Megumi's big eyes looked up to him for direction... him of all people. He was not cut out for this. Megumi's mom was a wonderful mother: sweet, nurturing, and patient. Toji really didn't know if he was any of those things.

Luckily, her life insurance provided Toji with a relatively comfortable life combined with his job in construction of course. Construction might be his vice. He got away from home for 12 hours a day, and he worked so hard that his brain was mush by the time he was home. Not that he didn't love his son, he did, but every time he looked at Megumi he saw his sweet late wife. He also saw his short comings as a father.

Babysitters quit on him regularly. It was always the same excuse. "Megumi's an angel, but I can't be here 7 days a week. I have a life too." It was incredibly annoying. They'd stay for Megumi but left due to another one of his shortcomings.

Another one quit. That would be the third one this month. "Listen Mr. Fushiguro, I know a friend. She does this sort of thing on a different level. Have you ever considered having a live-in nanny?"

That stupid girl's question enlightened Toji. He had completely forgotten that live-in nannies still existed. After getting her friend's number and paying her what he owed her for her time, Toji relaxed on the couch with little Megumi tucked into his side. The three-year-old was happily babbling next to him, enamored by Toji's phone that was in his hand.

Toji looked at the number dialed into his phone, and he sighed. He was tired of making cold calls to potential babysitters like he was some desperate whore, but maybe, maybe this would be different. He wouldn't mind having a live-in nanny. His house wouldn't mind it either. Toji would be able to finally breathe. No more coming home from 12 hour shifts to pop something to eat in the microwave and wash the dishes. He wouldn't even have to see this so-called nanny often. He could pick up more hours at work with all of his new freedom of not having to worry about pissing off the babysitter.

*** *** ***

Either way, that's how you ended up in Toji's house. For the past three months you had taken care of Megumi, cleaned and deep cleaned his entire house, cooked him plenty of dinners from scratch, and even did his laundry the exact way he preferred. His house has never looked better, and Megumi had never looked so happy.

Despite being here for three months, you barely saw Toji. He seemed to avoid you like the plague and only answer with one-worded answers, which was fine. This was your job, not your actual family. There was no need for extensive communications. Though, you had gushed to your friend plenty over text about how hot "Mr. Fushiguro" was. He was conventionally attractive, yes. But you also always had a thing for the brooding types, and dammit, Toji was brooding. There was also something to be said about how he came home in the evenings. A black wifebeater clinging to his skin from a long day of working out in the sun. His jeans would be dirty from the work he was doing. His skin glistening from a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was always a mess. Goddammit. It was enough to make you feel fertile.

It was early in the morning, Toji was getting ready to go to work. Megumi had woken up, crying for his papa not to leave him. He's going through an extra clingy phase. He's usually okay once Toji's gone.

"Papa!" Megumi cried as Toji entered the living room. You had Megumi in your lap, rocking him with a sleepy look on your face. His tears were wetting your shirt, but you didn't seem to mind.

"He'll be back tonight, Gumi." You shooshed him and continued to try to rock him and pat his back.

Toji's face was unreadable. He was never one to get all upset over Megumi's crying, but hearing his son cry out for him tugged on his heartstrings extra this morning. Then, there was you. You were a godsend to Toji's life. Getting a live-in nanny was one of the best decisions he had ever made. Above that, you were excellent with Megumi. You were sweet... nurturing... patient. He hated how seeing you with his son made him feel. It almost felt like maybe 2 kids wouldn't be that big of a deal. Maybe 3. One on each of your legs and another one swelling in your belly. God. He was disgusted in himself for thinking like that.

"I love you, kiddo." Toji said quickly as he leaned down, giving Megumi's forehead a quick peck. The toddler made grabby hands for him. It was almost enough to make him stay home. Almost. Toji's eyes met yours as he was still leaned over. His face was close to yours. The tension between them were palpable. The moment felt like eternity between them.

Then, a black credit card was in view. "I need new work gloves. Get the extra thick rubber ones, will ya? Also, get whatever you and the kid want. I'll be back late tonight." He handed you the card and sauntered out of the house despite Megumi's pleas for him to stay. You looked at the Amex black card and blinked a couple of times. Only the top earners in the world had cards like this. Toji was just an average blue collar dad... It made you wonder how he got a card like this.

You still spent that shit though.

*** *** ***

Toji looked at his phone on the jobsite. No one dared to tell him to put it away. Toji was the best most competent worker out on the field. He could work circles around supervisors and project managers alike, and he was damn smart. He didn't need a pencil and paper or a calculator to make quick conversions in his head. So, most people stayed out of his way.

He smirked and chuckled at the notifications rolling in from his bank. 78.97 at Target. 21.25 at McDonald's. 43.52 at Barnes and Noble. 9.24 at Starbucks. He was happy you and Megumi were getting to have a little shopping spree.

You were also great at keeping him updated. You sent him lots of pictures and videos of Megumi. He cherished each one of them, immediately getting some of them printed and hung up in his house. There was even a picture of you and Megumi proudly displayed in the living room. In his mind, you were an integral part of the family. The "family" simply would not function if it weren't for you.

A fond smile spread across his face as he opened his messages. A picture of Megumi's little hands trying to fit into his new gloves that she had bought him. Great. She got the right ones. "I think he wants to be just like daddy :)", the message read.

Oh.

Oh.

The twitch that just occurred in his pants should be punishable in a court of law. In no way should he have gotten turned on by that. You were just being nice. It was a normal thing for people to refer to him as "daddy" in that context. It never affected him in the way it was right now.

So anyways, that's how he ended up in the port-a-potty busting a load all over a picture of you that he had on his phone. After the shock of his orgasm that came quicker than ever, he looked down, disappointed in himself. He wasn't some horny teenage boy anymore. This was just downright deplorable. Begrudgingly, he wiped his phone clean from his sins. Post-nut clarity swirled his brain. He couldn't believe he just did that.

He called your number. He had to make things right.

"Hello? Is everything okay?" You immediately asked. After living with Toji for some time now, you learned that he doesn't just call people. He will absolutely decline a call to just text and ask what's up.

"Everything is fine." He replied, trying to hide his amusement. It was cute that you seemed so worried for him. "Are you still in town?"

"Yeah, Megumi and I are about to leave Starbucks and head home. Why? What's up?" You responded back to him. He could hear Megumi happily singing a song in the background.

"You know you spent 152 dollars today?" Toji asked as he popped his back up against the port-a-potty door. He had a lazy smirk on his face.

"Oh- crap. I'm sorry. You can take whatever you see fit out of my pay-" He interrupted your nonsense quickly.

"Do you think I'm poor?" His voice was amused, not angry like you expected it to be.

"What-? No.. no, sir. I was just-"

"I told you to get whatever you and the kid want. Don't come back home until your certain that you can't carry the amount of stuff you bought in one trip." He said quickly. His stomach was already coiling from how you called him sir. He grimaced as he felt another twitch. I just took care of you dammit.

"Oh... oh, okay? Are you su-" Click. He hung up on you. One too many dumb questions. You looked at Megumi as he strapped into the backseat of your car. He looked intrigued by the conversation even though you knew he realistically had no idea what was just said. "Daddy said we have to go to the toy store." You grinned at him. He was smiling and clapping over the word "toy".

234.22 at Toys-R-Us. 122.56 at Lego. 208.38 at Aerie. 88.21 at Ulta Beauty. Another 94.48 at Barnes and Noble.

The way Toji grinned each time he felt that familiar vibration of his phone go off, meaning another notification from his bank was off-putting. Workers on the jobsite never seen him so happy. It was his penance for being such a horny freaky fuck.

*** *** ***

It was later that same evening. Megumi was in the living room surrounded by toys and crafting materials. He was currently drawing all sorts of "shadow animals" as he called them. You would of course look and nod your head, congratulating him on each terribly drawn animal. You acted like that was the best damn wolf-bear-owl hybrid you ever saw.

You were in the kitchen cooking chicken and dumplings. The clock on the stove read seven p.m. You didn't expect to see Toji at all this evening. He said he was working late this morning. Usually, that meant he was dragging his feet in through the door until well past ten p.m.

Still, you made him a serving of chicken and dumpling soup. You always did. Even when he worked late, you would put him a helping of dinner in the microwave to keep warm. You never knew, but he was always delighted by that. He ate the dinners each time.

A key jingling in the door handle caught your attention while you were getting Megumi settled at the dining room table. Three-year-olds were so hard to manage: too small to eat by themselves but too big to be locked in a high chair.

Toji stepped into the living room with a small grunt. He smirked as he looked around at his destroyed living room. Toys, crayons, and pieces of "artwork" were strewn all about the place. He glanced up towards you and Megumi in the kitchen. He took note of how your face was flushed and surprised.

"Papa!" Megumi happily shouted before the little bastard ran from your grasp to go hug on Toji's legs. His dad smiled as he looked down at Megumi, and he used his hand to mess up Megumi's hair affectionately.

"Go eat your food, kiddo." Toji said warmly to his son. Megumi happily obliged and ran right back to his seat right next to you, and you fed him a spoonful of the soup.

"You're home early." You stated the obvious.

Toji would never tell you, but he left early because he missed you two.

"Don't sound too happy to see me." He remarked in a sarcastic tone.

"What-? No, I just.. would've cleaned up more had I known you would be home so soon..." You responded. Megumi was sitting beside you whining for another bite of food. You snapped out of your surprise, and you fed him another bite of chicken and dumplings.

"Why? I don't give a damn what this place looks like." Toji said with a small nonchalant shrug. He walked through the living room, carefully stepping over the toys. Before you had become his nanny, this was how his house normally looked: messy, lived in. "I've got a bowl of dinner in the microwave. My kid's happy and fed. I couldn't care less what that living room looks like."

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Toji was easy to please. He really just wanted what was best for his kid, and that was you. "I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." You replied. He looked at you with an unreadable expression. It looked like he might've wanted to say something, but he had backed out last minute. He hummed and walked towards his bedroom to shower the dirt, sweat, and grime from the day.

While Toji showered, you had finished feeding Megumi and yourself. You allowed Megumi to have about an hour of TV time before bed. He really enjoyed old X-Men cartoons. You turned them on for him and parked him on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket.

You hummed softly as you worked in the kitchen. You packed meal prep containers of soup for Toji to take for lunch for the next couple of days. Then, you were washing dishes in front of the sink.

*** *** ***

"I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." Your words repeated in Toji's head over and over like a mantra. He hadn't felt so... cared for in a long, long time. It made his heart feel full, which was an unfamiliar feeling for him. A less unfamiliar feeling was his dick standing fully erect and at attention. He groaned quietly as he leaned his head back in the shower.

Something had to be in the air recently. He was a grown man with desires, sure. But this was a new record for him. Ever since you started being a live-in nanny for him, the boners were a daily thing. Hell, twice or three times a day sometimes. He's tried everything... Well, okay, maybe not everything, but he's tried cold showers and staying away from you. Neither of those things work to soothe him.

His hand was gliding up and down his length for the second time today. He was facing the shower wall with his arm propped up on it, supporting his head. Damn you for making him feel like a slave to his desires. You wanted to make sure he had nothing to worry about? Then, you should be the one in here fixing this damn mess, not him. He pitifully rutted into his hand, imaging he's plunging deep into you. Imagining the multiple ways he'd fuck the hell out of you is the only thing that soothes the ache, but this time he didn't see an end in sight.

He gritted his teeth together, and he balled up his fist, rearing back before stopping himself. He's not a teenager anymore. He can't punch walls. He took a deep breath and turned the shower off. No, this won't do. He needs to fix this at the source.

After quickly drying off and getting dressed, he walked back into the kitchen. His eyes scanned over the house. Megumi was enthralled by the TV, and you were washing dishes. Perfect.

He slowly approached you from behind. He could tell you didn't hear him as you were still softly humming. Usually, you would stop humming if he entered the kitchen. He never understood why. The sounds of your melancholic hums were beautiful and soothing to him.

He was directly behind you, and his hands gently cupped your hips. You immediately flinched and made a soft scream that was quickly silenced by one of his hands. "Shh, we don't want to disturb the little brat, do we?" Toji said into your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Toji's eyes flicked over towards the living room. Megumi hadn't moved an inch. Perfect.

Toji slowly released your mouth. To his delight, you didn't make a sound. He could hear how your breath was slightly labored from him scaring you. A small chuckle rose from his throat. His hands went back to your hips, and he pressed himself against your voluptuous ass. A hum of approval escaped him. He could see your hands gripping the countertops.

"Nod your head. You like this? Want me to keep pressing myself against you?" Toji whispered into your ear. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, and you nodded your head eagerly, giving him consent.

"Dirty fucking girl." His voice was like a growl in your ear as he started to move his hips, dragging his length up and down along you. You could feel each inch of his length beckoning for you. "I knew you'd take whatever I gave you, but this? Letting me grind against you like a pathetic teenager while my son is in the living room? You're such a fucking slut." His hands were digging into your hips as he continued his controlled motions.

"Mnn.. fuck.." You softly whimpered out. Thank god the X-Men were currently in a loud fight scene.

You slightly frowned as you suddenly didn't feel Toji behind you anymore. You were about to turn around and ask what he was doing, but his fingers curling into the waistband of your leggings told you everything you needed to know. "Toji-" You managed to whisper out. No way could you two do this while Megumi was in the next room over.

"Shut up." Toji interrupted you. He had taken his throbbing length out of his sleeping pants, and he had a look of concentration on his face as he angled himself right at your entrance. "You have no fucking idea how long I've needed this. So just be a good girl, shut up, and take what I give you."

Direct orders from your boss. Who were you to deny the man who just spoiled you all day today?

It was a tight fit. Toji wasn't a gentleman. He didn't prep you with his fingers or mouth. This wasn't love making. It was hardly fucking. This was fulfilling a need.

"God... fuck. I didn't expect you to be that tight." He growled into your neck as he held your hips still against him. It felt like he was splitting you apart. You couldn't even respond to him.

He noticed how tightly you were gripping the counter and how you weren't responding to him. Your knuckles were turning white. He almost felt guilty. His hand came around the front of you, and he gently rubbed the swollen bundle of nerves. "Shhh... You can take it. I know you can." He whispered into your ear as it was taking every last shred of self-restraint not to fuck you into oblivion right on this counter. He slowly pulled back until just his tip was inside, and he pushed all the way back in. "That's it. There's my good girl." He praised in your ear. It was not lost on him that he felt you get wetter with each praise.

He hesitated, but he said it anyway, "You wanna be a good girl for daddy, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. That phrase made you tremble in his arms and nod your head. He slowly pulled back out and pushed right back in, taking you slowly. "That's right... hngh, fuck." He moaned into your ear. "You want to be fucked by daddy. You want to take his cock like a good girl. Take it." His hips started to move with more conviction.

You were already so out of it. This was like a dirty fantasy come true. You couldn't help but check the TV a few times to make sure X-Men was still playing. You were still worried that Megumi might run in here for whatever reason and see you bent over in front of his dad. You knew it was unlikely. Megumi could watch that TV like a zombie all day if you let him. Besides, you would be able to hear the small pitter-patter of his footsteps.

"Stop looking at the fucking TV. Trust me." Toji growled into your ear as he forced your hips down onto him roughly. A noiseless gasp escaped you. He wasn't small, and he knew that. He was using it to his advantage.

"Fuck." He groaned quietly as he rubbed you with a bit more fervor. You could already feel that familiar warm feeling coiling in your stomach. "I'm going to fuck a baby into you. You were fucking made for this. Made for raising my kids and taking my fucking load." He was spewing nonsense into your ear, but in the moment, you couldn't help but nod and moan. "You were made for me." He proclaimed as his hips continued harshly snapping into your backside. Somehow the sounds were masked.

"You want that, don't you?" He asked as he bit down on your neck then lapped at the bite mark with his tongue.

"Yes, daddy!" You quietly exclaimed. His thrusts only increased in power. Your eyes started to cross, getting lost in pleasure.

"Fuck. You're gonna look so perfect pregnant with my baby. I won't let you have a break. As soon as one comes out; I'm puttin' another one in you." He continued on yapping about how many kids he was going to pump into you. "I'll breed you again and again." His thrusts were heavy and brutal. You couldn't take it anymore.

He moaned as he felt you clenching around him, finishing all over his cock. It was enough to drive him overboard. He pumped you full of cum until you were sure some of it was seeping out.

There was a peaceful moment of dizzy highness for you two. Toji panted against your back. For the first time in while, he's felt satisfied. A soft amused laugh escaped him as he heard the iconic X-Men episode coming to an end. He swiftly pulled out of you, and he tried to ignore that little whimper of protest you let out. He tucked himself back into his pants, and he pulled your leggings and panties back up for you since you were still a trembling mess over the counter.

"Alright Kiddo, c'mon. Time for bed." Toji said as he sauntered off into the living room as if he didn't just rearrange your guts. He put Megumi to bed that night, and he cleaned up the living room for you, allowing for you to recover in his bed for round two. He was much more of a gentleman for round two.

*** *** ***

"Hey... I know I ain't been to see you in a while. I'm sorry." Toji said as he sat down on the grassy ground. "I was letting life pass me by for too damn long." He said as he took a wet washcloth and began to wash up his late wife's gravestone. "I'm doing better now, so don't worry about me."

"Megumi's growing like a weed. I'm sorry I didn't bring him to see you... I just don't know how to explain it to him." Toji's voice was full of guilt as he dragged the wet washcloth against the stone. "He's a good kid though. He looks just like you, damn bastard." He softly laughed, knowing his wife would've struck him over the side of the head for calling Megumi a damn bastard.

"Listen... I met a girl." He leaned his head over the gravestone. It had been close to three months since you and Toji started sleeping together. There wasn't a formal label to your relationship, but it didn't feel necessary. You two both knew you were sleeping exclusively with each other. "I think you'd like her, or maybe you wouldn't since she's fucking your husband. But either way... I-" He choked up a bit as he held onto the cold stone. "I feel so fucking guilty... I know you're not coming home anytime soon, but I just... I need your blessing. If you can somehow hear me, please... I never asked you for anything until I asked you to marry me. Now, I'm asking... please somehow show me you approve of this."

"She's good for me... She takes good care of Megumi. He's so damn attached to her somedays." Toji softly laughed as he remembered how a few nights ago Megumi crawled into bed with you and him because he had a nightmare. Instead of taking to Toji like he normally does, he crawled into your arms. Toji had never felt so damn proud and slighted at the same time.

"I should get going. Give me a sign though.. Something that tells me you approve." He finished his visit with his wife, and he went home.

*** *** ***

That night at dinner, Megumi sped into the kitchen with an action figure in his hand. He was pretending to be Batman. "Gumi, I've told you three times. Stop running." You said as you gave the small child a look. Toji smirked as he knew that look good and well. It was the look a mom gave as a warning. Megumi was on his last warning.

"I'm sorry, mama." Megumi apologized, causing for both you and Toji to freeze right in your tracks. Megumi had never called you mama before. He always said your name.

Your heart swelled in your chest. It was a feeling of affection and guilt. "Oh no... baby.." You said softly as you took his hand. You lead him into the living room, and you crouched down, showing him a picture of his mom to him. "That's mama." You gently corrected him.

Toji watched the scene like a hawk from the dinner table. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never been shy about telling Megumi who his mom was, but he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about how his mom passed away when he was a small baby.

Megumi pointed at the picture. "Mama." He said quietly. You nodded and patted his head.

"That's right." You praised affectionately. He then turned his attention to you. and he poked your chest with his tiny finger.

"Mama." He said, pointing at you.

"No-"

"It's alright." Toji spoke up from his seat at the dinner table.

"I don't want him to be confused..." You replied as you slowly stood back up, looking at Toji.

"He doesn't sound confused to me." He retorted with a small grin. You turned your attention back to Megumi, and Toji looked up towards the ceiling. "Thank you." He muttered so quietly before kissing the necklace that hung around his neck. He had his wife's blessing. This proved it.

After finishing his dinner, Toji joined you two in the living room. You and Megumi were curled up on each side of his while watching that old X-Men cartoon. Suddenly, Megumi rose from the couch. You and Toji watched him with a hint of confusion.

"What is he doing?" You softly asked Toji as Megumi bent over, and he looked between his legs at both you and Toji.

"I have no fucking id-" He was about to respond, but then, it hit him. "Get up." He said as he stood up from the couch. He quickly grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet like a madman.

"What? What? Is something wrong?" You asked as you had never seen Toji move this fast. You quickly got up too.

"Nothing's wrong. Come on. We're going to the store." He grunted as he swooped Megumi into his arms.

You were confused and in denial when Toji bought a pregnancy test and made you take it. Now, both of you were waiting outside of the bathroom for the five minutes to be over. "This is crazy, Toji. I'm not pregnant."

"It's an old wives' tale. When babies do that, it's supposed to mean their looking for their sibling." Toji said with a nonchalant shrug as if what he said was matter-of-fact. "My mother told me that's how she knew she was pregnant with me."

The timer went off on his phone, and both of you fought to get into the bathroom first. He eventually overpowered you and snatched the pregnancy test off the counter quickly. "Oh." He said quietly. The room went still.

Suddenly, your heart was racing. "What is it? Is it negative?" You asked a hint of disappointment hit you. You didn't know why, but a small part of you hoped for it to be positive.

"Oh, you're fucking getting it tonight." Toji smirked as he turned the pregnancy test over. Two pink lines were clear as day on the test. You're pregnant.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[quarterlifekitty]

Had this thought… Simon who starts dating reader but her son 14-18 (older teen) is hella protective of her. Simon sees himself in the kid and is incredibly proud of the boy, caring for his mum and being all “You have to get through me to get to her.” So Simon’s gotta win the kid over first THEN the reader? 👀

I love this idea because like

Regardless of her own shortcomings as a parent, Simon’s mom still tried. She wanted his life to be good. And he definitely saw her, on more than one occasion, bawling even though she tried so hard to never let him see. Because she wanted him to be a baby boy for just a little longer— she wasn’t ready to see the weight of the world tearing him down by the shoulders. She cried because there was never enough. Not of anything. Food to put on the table, money in the bank, his father’s patience, time to keep the house and raise her boys, the energy to do the simplest things in the world. Not enough of herself left to give away to those she always put first.

So yeah, if you badmouthed Simon’s mom when he was in school? You’d be lucky getting away with a black eye.

And if there’s anything Simon loves, it’s instinct. He likes your son. He really does like that your son sees him as a potential threat, as a point of caution. Simon probably barely got out a “Not tryna replace your da-“ before your son was like “I don’t give a fuck about that. You stay away from my mom.”

He doesn’t like that you’ve been hurt before. That you have a son that thinks he needs to protect you— that he’s had to live a life on edge because he’s seen so much happen to you. But he can relate. And he’s happy you had someone to depend on. That your son doesn’t lack the courage to stand up to people for you.

And honestly? Loyalty goes both ways. I’ve always found that trope in movies, where a parent is going to remarry someone their kid doesn’t like, to be strange. I think for most single parents, if the kid doesn’t like you, it’s a non-starter. Do you know your son is probably a little overly defensive? Yes. But you also love him before anyone else. If there’s a man he really can’t abide? That’s not gonna be the man for you.

I think Simon wins your son through the mundane. Doing things that are just plain not fun, but necessary parts of life. Just taking things off of your plate. Filling your forms, making appointments, picking up groceries, fixing things around the house— the very ordinary and unromantic parts of cohabitation and long term relationships.

It starts chipping when Simon drives to pick up your son from a friend’s house after a sleepover.

“Why’re you here?”

“So your mum could sleep in today.”

That shuts him up right quick.

He’s gone through life seeing people take from you until barely anything was left for yourself. Spoonfuls of honey taken from your soul until you were empty. So he starts to soften when there seems to be a man ready to give you some of himself without greedily taking more of you.

[alygator77]

.˚✶˚. motherhood and matrimony ・❥・ wrapped in love .˚✶˚.

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ series summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ chapter summary. christmas morning at the gojo estate has always been a display of elegant grandeur—but this year, the true magic is found in the quiet, heartfelt moments shared with you. for satoru, it’s a holiday that finally feels like home.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. pure tooth rotting fluff. satoru being the best step dad. lots of domesticity. it does get a bit suggestive at times.

ꨄ words: 12.6k

ꨄ a/n. this is a part of my series motherhood and matrimony, however it can also be read as a fluffy holiday oneshot (you'll probably appreciate some of the references more if you've read the series though!) this entire ch is written from satoru's perspective! also, for those that have read the series, i would definitely read this after ch 7 ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist ꨄ series masterlist ꨄ

side ch // wrapped in love

Christmas had always been a spectacle at the Gojo estate. Extravagant decorations that seemed to glisten with the weight of their price tags, a towering tree so grand it nearly grazed the vaulted ceilings, and a meticulously curated guest list for the Gojo’s annual holiday gala.

Business, wrapped in tinsel—topped with a bow.

Yes, for Satoru Gojo, Christmas always felt cold. Not the kind of cold that nipped at your nose or made you long for a crackling fireplace—it was the emptiness of grandeur.

Growing up in the Gojo estate, Christmas wasn’t a celebration; it was a stage. Takemi Gojo orchestrated the performance with precision, weaving an illusion of family warmth while the frigid reality of their relationship sat heavy within the corners of the mansion.

Twinkling lights adorned every surface, crystal ornaments shimmered under the tree’s glow, and tables overflowed with feasts meant to impress, not to savor.

His father had called it tradition. Satoru had called it lonely.

And from a young age, Satoru had learned that gifts were currency, not sentiment—the meaning of the season buried beneath layers of duty and pretense.

But this year… something was different.

Satoru lounges on the couch, long legs sprawled out as he watches you and Haru at the tree. You crouch low, holding an ornament in your hand, gently guiding Haru as she reaches up to find the perfect spot.

Her giggles fill the room like the sound of bells, bright and contagious, and she claps her tiny hands when the ornament finally stays.

Turning to her, your smile and the warmth in your expression is enough to melt something in Satoru’s chest.

It’s a feeling he can’t quite name—foreign, yet achingly familiar. Like standing outside during the first snowfall—the cold biting at your cheeks, but the beauty of it stealing your breath.

For the first time, Christmas doesn’t feel like an obligation. It feels like… home.

But it isn’t the decorations, nor the estate’s grandeur—it’s you. It’s Haru. It’s the way you’ve taken this cold, hollow place and filled it with laughter, warmth, and life. It’s the way you’ve turned this house into a home—a home he doesn’t want to leave.

“What do you think, Satoru?”

He blinks, glancing up at you—your voice pulling him out of his reverie. You were holding up two ornaments, one red and one blue, with a quirked brow and a soft smile.

Haru, meanwhile, was standing on her tippy toes, trying to reach the highest branch she could manage.

“Oh, uh… hmm?”

You roll your eyes with mock exasperation, shaking the ornaments for emphasis.

“Red or blue? We can’t have both; it’ll clash. Focus, Gojo.”

His lips twitch into a lazy grin as he leans back, folding his arms behind his head.

“Oh, definitely blue,” he says with a teasing lilt. “It matches my vibe better. Don’tcha think?”

You snort, rolling your eyes with a grin—muttering something about his ego—and as you turn back to Haru, Satoru takes the opportunity to watch you again.

The sight of you—your hair falling loose over your shoulders, the way your smile makes even your oversized sweater seem elegant—It isn’t just the room you light up. It’s him.

‘Gifts are just another transaction, Satoru. A display of wealth and power.’

His father’s voice lingers in his mind, sharp and cold as ever. But you—you’ve shown him a different kind of wealth. One that can’t be bought, or wrapped in shiny paper.

And for the first time, he feels it. Not the chill of the season, but… the warmth of belonging.

But with that warmth comes something else—something he’s not used to.

Panic.

Christmas is just days away, and for the life of him, he has no idea what to give you.

He’s Satoru Gojo. He could buy you anything. Diamonds. Designer clothes. Hell, an entire island, if he felt like it. Money has never been an obstacle—it’s always been a solution.

But when it comes to you, every option feels… wrong.

You—who sighs in exasperation at the estate’s staff, grumbling about how you’re perfectly capable of pouring your own glass of water, thank you very much.

You—who pokes at the extravagant feasts from world-class chefs, saying they could feed an entire village, yet they still couldn’t make your favorite comfort food the way you liked it.

You—who wrinkles your nose at his pretentious lifestyle, rolling your eyes every time he casually mentions the price of something without even realizing.

A necklace dripping in diamonds? You’d probably say it was heavy to wear. A vacation to a private island? You’d tell him you’d rather spend the time with Haru in the backyard, making snow angels.

A car? A house? Exquisite art? Fuck, a horse?

None of it feels enough.

He groans quietly, running a hand through his hair, cursing himself under his breath.

When did this happen? When did he get so comfortable letting his guard down around you, so at ease that now, sitting in his own home, he feels utterly vulnerable? Utterly lost?

And worse, he knows you can probably sense it.

“Satoru.”

Your voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, drawing his attention back to you.

Standing a few feet away, the soft glow from the Christmas tree casts a gentle light on your features—a slight furrow to your brow as you tilt your head, holding a new ornament in your hand.

“Are… you okay? You look like you’re plotting something.”

He straightens instantly, schooling his features into an easy grin, but it’s a little too late for that—you’re watching him too closely, as if trying to unravel the puzzle in his head.

“Me? Plotting? Never.” He leans back, resting an arm across the top of the couch. “Just wondering if we need a bigger tree. This one’s lookin’ a little small.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously, and for a moment, he wonders if you can see straight through him.

You always do.

“Satoru,” you deadpan, and fuck—he knows he’s lost. “This tree is ten feet tall.”

He shrugs, as though you’ve just proven his point.

“Yeah… but like… wouldn’t fifteen feet look better? That’d be a real statement.”

Your groan comes with a roll of your eyes, but it’s paired with the grin he was hoping for.

“Sure, let’s just knock down the ceiling while we’re at it. Maybe put the Empire State Building in here for good measure.”

He chuckles, relieved by your sarcasm, and for a moment, his deflection works—you turn away, back to the tree. He watches you carefully loop another ornament onto a branch while Haru tugs at your sweater, babbling about a penguin ornament.

But as soon as your attention has shifted, it’s back—that gnawing uncertainty, that quiet panic clawing at the edges of his mind.

Good lord, when did this get so hard?

He’s Satoru Gojo. He can charm his way through anything, pull the strings of the world’s most powerful people, and yet he’s paralyzed by the thought of picking out a gift for you.

The longer he thinks about it, the worse it gets. You deserve something perfect—something thoughtful. But what does perfect even look like?

What do you give someone who doesn’t want anything money can buy? How does he give you a gift that carries the weight of what you’ve given him?

“Santa’s gonna like our tree, right, Mama?”

Haru’s voice rings up like a bright chime, tugging him back to the room—to reality.

He watches as you glance down, and a soft smile blooms across your lips as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind Haru’s ear. That look—the one you reserve for her, the kind that could thaw glaciers—hits him squarely in the chest.

“He’ll love it, sweetheart.”

Your voice is as light and sure as the snow falling gently outside the frosted windows, and Haru grins, pivoting to Satoru now.

“’toru!” her face lights up like the tree behind her, “Santa’s coming! He’s gonna bring presents, and cookies, and he loves hot cocoa!”

Raising a brow, Satoru slouches further back into the couch with that practiced ease—masking the chaos still whirling behind his nonchalant façade.

“Hot cocoa, huh? With marshmallows?”

Haru nods so hard, her little curls bounce and her entire being vibrates with conviction.

“He loves marshmallows! And cookies. And maybe waffles too.”

Satoru huffs out a soft laugh, his smile easing.

“That’s a pretty sweet deal for Santa,” he murmurs.

With all the grace of a puppy on ice, Haru scrambles up onto the couch cushion beside him, wiggling her way into place. Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, though it’s far from quiet.

“Mama makes the best hot cocoa. We should have some.”

The confidence in her tone makes him snort quietly, and he raises a brow—playing along.

“The best, huh? Mmm.. I dunno. That’s a pretty big claim, kid.”

“It’s true!” she insists.

And then there’s your laughter—soft, light, and entirely unguarded as it floats from behind him. It’s a sound he’s learned to treasure, one he’d bottle up if he could, a warmth that sinks beneath his skin and quiets everything else.

He swears it’s one of his favorite sounds.

“You know what? That’s a good idea,” you say, ruffling Haru’s hair as you step behind the couch.

But then, you pause beside him, leaning down to press the faintest kiss to his temple—a feather-light touch, and it strikes him like a match catching fire, warmth unfurling from that single point of contact.

Oh, how he loves the touch of your lips.

“I’m gonna grab some hot chocolate—with marshmallows, of course,” your hand brushes briefly through his hair before pulling away. “Watch Haru real quick, yeah?”

Tilting his head back to look at you, he swallows down the tightness in his chest, masking it all with another lazy smirk—because he doesn’t know how to show you just how much that tenderness means to him. How much he loves when you touch him like that, so unthinking, like it’s natural.

And for Satoru, masking it is second nature—it always has been.

“Yeah, yeah… I’ve got it covered,” he waves you off with a dramatic flick of his hand.

You roll your eyes with an affectionate huff, and he lets himself watch you for a moment longer as you disappear into the kitchen, your humming trailing softly behind you like a ribbon that tethers him to you.

And then, silence.

The moment the door swings shut, he lets out a slow, quiet exhale, the tension uncoiling from his shoulders as if he’s been holding himself together for too long.

He slumps back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion, feeling the ghost of your touch where your fingers had been in his hair. With a sigh, he runs a hand through the same spot, smoothing the strands down absently as if he can capture what’s already gone.

It’s ridiculous how much you’ve undone him. How a single kiss, a fleeting touch, can dismantle the person he’s spent so long pretending to be.

Because in those fleeting moments, when it’s just him and the lingering warmth of you, Satoru Gojo—the man who never lets his mask slip—realizes just how tightly wound he’s become. Just how much of himself he’s spent trying to hold it all together when, in moments like that, you make it so damn easy for him to fall apart.

He closes his eyes for just a breath, letting himself feel it—the calm, the weight of it all, the way his heart stirs.

But then—

A sudden rustling sound shatters the quiet, pulling him sharply from his thoughts. One eye cracks open, blinking lazily as he scans the room.

His gaze lands on Haru, and the breath leaves his chest in a sigh that’s somewhere between disbelief and resignation.

There she is—somehow, in the span of seconds—teetering precariously on the armrest of the couch, her tiny arms outstretched like she’s on a tightrope, her face scrunched in determination.

Satoru stares at her for a beat, utterly disheveled and utterly defeated. His head tilts lazily to the side as he watches her.

“Oi,” he drawls, dragging a hand down his face with a groan that’s more exasperation than anything. “Munchkin. What do you think you’re doing?”

Haru doesn’t even flinch. She grins, wide and triumphant, wobbling dangerously like a baby deer.

“I’m tall, ‘toru!”

He blinks at her, deadpan, before letting his hand fall limply to his lap.

“Yeah? Well, you’re also gonna fall on your face.”

“Nu-uh!” she insists, wiggling her feet against the cushion for emphasis.

“Kid…” He straightens with a reluctant sigh, reaching out with one hand, just in case she topples over. “You’re gonna get me in trouble. You do realize your mom’ll murder me if she catches you pulling stunts like this, right?”

Haru giggles—loud, unbothered, entirely unfazed.

“It’s okay. I’m good!” she declares proudly, as if she’s just conquered Mount Everest.

“You sure about that?” Satoru raises a brow, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. “Because… you’re about two seconds away from face-planting into the tree. And I’ll tell ya right now—Santa’s not gonna bring you anything if you wreck his setup.”

Haru freezes, her expression suddenly serious.

“He won’t?”

Satoru shrugs, as casual as ever, though there’s a sly gleam in his eye.

“Nope. Santa’s big on the whole naughty or nice thing, you know? Pretty sure ‘tree-destroyer’ lands you on the naughty list.”

Haru’s jaw drops like he’s just shattered her entire world.

“But I’m nice!”

“Yeah, well…” he sighs dramatically, “You’re not exactly convincing me right now, short stack.”

She gasps—a flurry of tiny limbs as she clambers down from the armrest in a dramatic tumble onto the cushions.

“I’m nice!” she insists again, louder this time, as if sheer volume might make it more convincing.

Satoru huffs out a laugh, ruffling her hair in an act of surrender.

“Yeah, yeah… crisis averted, princess. You’re nice. I’ll put in a good word for you with the big guy. Just… no more stunts, kay? Santa’s watching.”

She squints at him suspiciously, like she’s testing the limits of his authority over Santa Claus, before finally settling back with a small huff.

But then, Haru shifts entirely to look at him—her brows pinching together, her tiny face suddenly serious.

The shift catches him off guard—how a two-year-old can go from giggling chaos to this kind of weighty focus will always baffle him.

“‘toru.”

He quirks a brow, leaning an elbow against the back of the couch.

“…yeah?”

“You hafta tell Santa to get Mama something.”

The words catch him off guard. His grin falters just a fraction as he blinks, straightening a little to study her tiny, earnest face.

How the hell does this kid always seem to know exactly what’s on his mind?

“Oh yeah? Something for your mom, huh?”

Haru nods solemnly, as if she’s just handed him the most important mission of his life.

“Mhmm. Santa forgot last year.”

At that, his heart stumbles, the smile fading from his face.

“W-What? He… forgot?”

“Uh-huh.” Haru props herself on her elbows, swinging her feet idly against the couch. “Mama didn’t get a present.”

The simplicity of her words hits him like a punch to the gut. Innocent and unassuming, but full of a truth she doesn’t fully understand.

Satoru doesn’t respond right away, his mind suddenly swirling.

That unsettles him. The fact that no one thought to bring you anything at all?

You—who pours so much of yourself into others, who has brought a warmth into his life he didn’t think he deserved—spent last Christmas with nothing?

No gifts. No family. No one?

He hates the thought. He knows it shouldn’t surprise him though... you’ve never asked for anything, and it’s not hard to fill in the blanks.

You don’t talk much about your family—he knows there’s distance there, silence where there should be connection—and Naoya, well… he was never part of the picture. But still, the realization knocks something loose in Satoru, a quiet ache settling into the spaces he didn’t know could hurt.

“It’s no fair, ‘toru. Mama’s nice too!”

Satoru swallows hard, dragging a hand through his hair as he forces a smile back onto his face.

“Yeah… you’re right, kid…” he murmurs quietly. “Your mom’s on the very top of the nice list.”

Haru beams, her hands clasping together like she’s already imagining the magic of Christmas morning.

“Tell Santa, ’kay? Mama needs something really nice.”

The simplicity of her words hits him like a sledgehammer.

Something really nice.

As if it’s that easy, as if fixing the pieces of your world can be done with one perfect gift. But to Haru, it is that easy. Because to her, Santa fixes things.

And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo feels the weight of expectation—not from a boardroom, or a title, or the world that demands he be untouchable—but from a tiny girl who trusts him implicitly to fix the one thing he’s been so afraid to get right.

Fucking hell. Now he’s back to square one. What the hell is he going to get you?

He leans back into the couch, one arm draped lazily along the back, but his mind is already turning—the gears clicking into place.

“Something… nice, huh?” he says softly, more to himself than to her.

Haru beams, her little legs kicking against the cushion again as she settles back, satisfied that her request has been heard.

“Yup!”

Satoru tilts his head toward her, studying her with a thoughtful squint. Kids always seem to know the answers to things grown-ups can’t figure out. She’s managed to pry into his thoughts with frightening accuracy already, so maybe—just maybe—she’s his best shot at figuring this out.

After all, who knows you better than Haru?

“Well…” he says after a beat, angling a glance toward her, “what do you think Santa should bring your mom then?”

Haru gasps—like this is the most important question she’s ever been asked—and sits up straight, her little face lighting up.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He flicks her nose lightly, earning a squeak and a giggle. “You know your mom better than anyone, right? So… what do you think she wants for Christmas?”

Haru’s brows furrow as she thinks very hard, her tiny hands tapping against her chin for emphasis.  Satoru watches her expectantly, the smallest spark of hope flickering to life in his chest.

“Well…” she starts slowly, drawing the word out as though she’s stalling for time. “Mama likes cookies.”

Satoru blinks. “Uh… cookies?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods solemnly, as if this is the most serious answer in the world. “Chocolate cookies. With milk. I like them too.”

Ah… right. To Haru, the solution is simple—because to a two-year-old, happiness is simple. And for a moment, Satoru envies her for it.

Satoru exhales sharply through his nose, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he humors her.

“Of course you do, princess. Alright. Noted. So Santa’s supposed to bring your mom cookies. What else?”

Haru’s face lights up as another thought strikes her, and she bounces slightly in place.

“Oh! A teddy bear!”

“A teddy bear?” Satoru quirks a brow, half-amused, half-resigned.

“Yeah!” Haru stretches her arms out as wide as they’ll go, as if trying to contain the sheer size of her vision. “A big one. Pink! Really fluffy. Mama can hug it.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. So much for getting a serious answer out of her.

“Okay... so cookies and a big pink bear… anything else?”

Haru pauses again, tapping her chin with her finger like she’s pondering the great mysteries of the cosmos. Then—her eyes go wide, and she gasps, louder this time.

“A pony!”

Satoru stares at her, deadpan. “Really? A pony.”

“Uh-huh!” Haru nods emphatically, little curls bouncing with enthusiasm. “Pink! With sparkles.”

“A… sparkly pink pony?”

“Yes!” She beams, practically vibrating with excitement. “Mama can ride it. I can ride it too. And—and we can give it cookies!”

That does it.

A sharp bark of laughter escapes him before he can stop it, his shoulders shaking as he slumps back against the couch.

With a deep groan, he drags a hand down his face like she’s aged him ten years in two minutes.

He’s getting nowhere.

“Kid… you’re killing me here. Cookies, a teddy bear, and a pony? You’re just listing stuff you want.”

Haru puffs out her cheeks, crossing her arms in protest.

“Nuh-uh! Mama likes ponies. And cookies. And bears.”

Satoru sighs again, tilting his head back against the couch with an exaggerated groan.

This kid.

Her world is so simple—so bright and innocent. Cookies, teddy bears, and ponies.

Haru doesn’t overthink it. She doesn’t make it complicated. To her, happiness is just that—simple.

And maybe… that’s what he needs to remember.

They’re terrible suggestions, but she’s right about one thing: you deserve something really nice. Something that makes you smile—something that feels as bright and simple and warm as Haru’s world.

And if Santa won’t fix it, then damnit, he will.

“Everything okay in here?”

Your voice calls out lightly, followed by the soft clink of mugs. The moment Satoru hears you; he straightens a little, his casual mask snapping back into place.

Stepping in, a tray balances carefully in your hands, three steaming mugs of hot chocolate wobbling precariously as you nudge the door shut with your hip.

The smell hits the room before you do—sweet, rich cocoa laced with the sugary promise of marshmallows—and Satoru thinks that it might as well be magic, with how Haru perks up.

“Mama!” she bounces on her knees so enthusiastically; Satoru thinks it’s a miracle the couch doesn’t catapult her into orbit. “Yay!! Hot cocoa!”

“Mhmm. Hot chocolate delivery!” you announce proudly, lowering the tray onto the coffee table with a dramatic flourish and a smile of pure satisfaction. “Marshmallows included, as requested.”

The soft glow of the Christmas tree dances in your eyes as you kneel in front of Haru, carefully handing her a small mug.

“Two hands, Haru. It’s hot, okay?”

Haru nods solemnly, as if you’ve just bestowed upon her the Holy Grail itself. Her little fingers curl reverently around the mug, and she murmurs softly, “’kay.”

Rising, you hand Satoru his mug next, and he clears his throat—mumbling a quiet “thanks.” When you settle on the couch beside him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulder brushes against his—your own mug cradled in your hands.

For a moment, it’s calm. The Christmas lights flicker across the room like soft, lazy stars, the cocoa steaming faintly in the air, and Satoru almost lets himself believe this is pure perfection.

But then you ask it.

“And what were you two talking about?” you peer between the two of them with a teasing smile. “I heard lots of giggling.”

Satoru freezes, his mug halfway to his mouth. He’s ready to spin some ridiculous excuse—he’s a master at bullshit, after all—but before he can get the words out, Haru beats him to it.

“We were talking about presents!” Haru announces proudly.

Fuck. That tiny traitor.

Satoru schools his expression, plastering on his best lazy grin as if Haru hasn’t just sold him out for free. He doesn’t need you catching on to the fact that he’s been silently losing his mind trying to figure out what to get you for Christmas.

You arch a brow, amused as you blow lightly on your cocoa.

“Presents, huh? What about presents?”

Haru doesn’t even hesitate. She launches into her list like a kid on a mission.

“Mama, ‘toru is gonna tell Santa we need cookies. And a big pink bear. And a pony!”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relaxing fractionally against the cushions. Of course. The kid’s list is nonsense—pure, two-year-old chaos—and she’s so earnest about it that you’ll never suspect Satoru was fishing for information.

He’s safe.

“Uh-huh,” you hum, nodding indulgently as you sip your drink. “Sounds like quite the Christmas list, sweetheart. Anything else?��

Satoru almost smiles into his mug. It’s ridiculous how close he was to panicking—there’s no need.

But as Haru stops, her face scrunches in concentration before it lights up again. She looks straight at you, eyes wide and earnest, as she adds brightly:

“And I want a little brother!”

Oh, shit.

Satoru chokes—actually chokes—mid-sip, sputtering and coughing like he’s forgotten how to drink liquid. You don’t fare much better, nearly inhaling your cocoa as your head jerks up, eyes wide as saucers.

“A—what?” you croak.

Satoru’s shoulders shake, one arm flung over his face as he tries to muffle his laughter. It’s no use—his wheezing breaths betray him, and he can’t help but grin through his coughs.

“Haru, kid—”

“A little brother!” Haru repeats, utterly unfazed by the chaos she’s unleashed. Her tiny hands still cradle her mug, looking up at you with innocent conviction. “Santa can bring one. Like how he brings the toys.”

Satoru peeks out from behind his hand, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his laughter tumbles out in unfiltered bursts.

Oh, this is gold. Pure gold.

You whip your head toward him so fast he thinks you might pull something. Your cheeks are flushed—whether from the cocoa or mortification, he’s not sure—and your glare could cut steel. It would have him worried for his life if it weren’t so damn funny.

“Satoru Gojo, what did you say to her?”

“Me?!” he splutters, desperately trying to get his composure back. He throws his hands up in mock innocence, laughter shaking in his shoulders. “Hey, don’t look at me! That’s all her!”

Haru blinks at the two of you, her expression perfectly innocent.

“Santa brings presents, right? So he can bring a brother. A nice one. And he’ll ride the pony with me.”

Your hand flies to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shake your head, biting back the laughter threatening to spill out.

“Haru… sweetheart, that’s… not how it works.”

“Why not?” she asks, and it’s like she genuinely can’t fathom why Santa wouldn’t pull through on such a reasonable request.

Satoru, finally breathing normally again, leans forward with his elbows on his knees—the smirk on his face nothing short of diabolical.

“Yeah, Mama,” he drawls, dripping with mischief. “Why not?”

Your glare sharpens as you turn toward him. “Do not encourage her.”

“Hey,” he’s utterly unrepentant as he leans back lazily, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “I’m just saying—if Santa’s listening, we wouldn’t want Haru to be disappointed, right?” Tilting his head, he smirks at you. “Looks like Santa’s got his work cut out for him this year.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands as Satoru lets his laughter spill out again, unbothered and thoroughly entertained.

Meanwhile, Haru hums to herself, swinging her legs and sipping her hot chocolate contentedly.

“It’s okay, Mama,” she assures you with a confident nod. “Santa’s magic. He can do it.”

ꨄ

The past few days had been a blur of snow, laughter, and tiny hands tugging Satoru in every direction.

If someone had told Satoru Gojo that he’d spend his holiday season wrangling a two-year-old in the snow and actually enjoying himself, he would’ve laughed them out of the room. But here he was, standing knee-deep in the white fluff while Haru shrieked with glee, launching another snowball his way.

“Take this, ‘Toru!” she cried.

The kid’s aim was absolute trash, her snowballs missing him by a mile, but the way she shrieked with delight when Satoru “pretended” to get hit—well, it made it impossible for him not to play along.

“Kid, you’re ruthless,” he’d groaned dramatically after she tackled him into the snow for the third time.

And then there was you. You—standing off to the side like some winter painting coming to life—warm coffee in hand, wearing that smug smile he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss or wipe clean with a snowball.

He swore you’d been the one to tip Haru off about aiming for his knees. Traitor.

The snow had been Haru’s personal playground—and, by extension, his. For days now, his life had been an endless stream of winter chaos: sledding trips that left his muscles aching (Haru’s favorite phrase seemed to be “One more time!”).

Oh, and inside the Gojo estate? More chaos, pure and simple.

Haru’s Christmas cookie baking turned into an all-out war zone—flour dusting the countertops, chocolate chips mysteriously vanishing before they made it into the dough (a crime Satoru was not-so-secretly guilty of), and Haru wearing more icing than she’d used.

Still, the chaos didn’t bother him. He was struck, again and again, by the realization that this—this messy, chaotic, perfect life—was because of you.

And the high-end galas you’d been forced to attend as the faces of the Gojo Corporation—the press, the flashing lights, the constant conversations—all of it felt easier with you beside him.

And you? Well… you carried yourself with a poise that Satoru was genuinely impressed with. But beneath that, he could tell that these past few weeks had taken a toll on you.

You were exhausted.

The late nights catching up on work, the charity events, the endless holiday prep—you hid it well, but Satoru noticed the way your shoulders slumped when you thought no one was looking. The way you sighed as you kicked off your heels by the door.

And it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

It wasn’t just the exhaustion, though. It was this look in your eyes—something wistful, like you were watching all the joy and chaos around you, but holding yourself at a distance.

Satoru didn’t like that. Not one bit.

And still, despite everything, he hadn’t figured out what the hell to get you for Christmas.

The frustration simmered under his skin, gnawing at him whenever he thought about it. You deserved something perfect—something that would remind you how much you were loved. But every time he thought he had it, every idea felt wrong.

Too extravagant, too impersonal, too damn meaningless.

And now, tonight, as he sits at the kitchen table pretending to sip his hot chocolate (while sneaking glances at you sorting through Christmas cards), the idea struck him like a light bulb flickering on.

If he couldn’t figure out the gift just yet, there was one thing he could do.

He could give you a moment. Just one night to breathe—to feel cared for.

Leaning back in his chair, his legs stretch out underneath the table as he watches you—that little furrow of concentration in your brow. You aren’t even faintly aware of how tired you look, or notice when his voice breaks the quiet silence.

“Hey.”

You hum absently, still focused.

“Tomorrow night, don’t make any plans.”

Your gaze lifts, brows raising slightly as suspicion flickers across your face.

“Okay… why?”

“Mmm… ‘cause I’m kidnapping you,” he teases, folding his arms behind his head. “Just dress warm. It’s a surprise.”

That earns him a proper look—you eyeing him skeptically, your lips twitching like you were already fighting back a smile.

Bingo. That’s the look he lives for.

ꨄ

The night air is crisp, biting at his cheeks in a way that’s sharp but oddly pleasant, like winter itself is showing off. Snowflakes drift lazily from the dark sky, glowing gold as they pass through the light of the estate’s lanterns, and the world is blanketed in that perfect kind of quiet—soft, still, almost fragile. A nice kind of quiet.

It’d be perfect, really, if not for the sound of your increasingly dramatic sighs cutting through it.

Satoru tugs his scarf higher around his neck, not because he’s cold—he never seems to feel the cold—but because he’s trying to hide the grin pulling at his lips. He glances over his shoulder to find you trudging through the snow like a grumpy little marshmallow, bundled so thoroughly in your coat and scarf that you look like you’re about to tip over.

“You’re gonna freeze to death if you keep trudging like that,” he calls easily over the snow, making no effort to hide the amusement in his tone.

“I wouldn’t have to trudge if you’d slow down, Gojo,” you snap back, and your exasperation is muffled slightly by the scarf wrapped around your face. “Not everyone has legs like a damn giraffe.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unbothered, a puff of white against the dark sky. Deliberately, he slows his steps to a near-comical saunter, his boots sinking into the snow with every exaggerated step.

“Better, princess?”

“Barely…” You catch up, though you don’t look particularly grateful about it. “I swear, if you keep dragging me through the Arctic tundra—”

“Oh, come on,” he interrupts, stopping in his tracks. His grin is pure mischief, bright even in the dark. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“It died about twenty feet ago,” you mutter, shoulders hunching as you try to burrow deeper into your coat.

He holds out his hand to you with a dramatic flourish, fingers wiggling like he’s offering you salvation itself.

“Here,” his sighs affectionately. “Before you collapse and I have to carry you.”

You stare at his hand for a long moment, clearly torn between taking it and smacking it away. The tension only makes his grin widen.

“C’mon now… you’ll bruise my ego if you say no.”

With a sigh that sounds like a thousand reluctant decisions being made at once, you slip your gloved hand into his. It’s small and warm, even through the layers, and Satoru’s grin falters for just a second when he feels your fingers curl around his.

Did he just get butterflies? That’s dangerous. He’s gotta keep it together.

“Atta girl…” he says softly, a bit too softly for his own comfort. But he covers it up with a gentle tug, pulling you closer as the two of you trudge forward.

The path winds through the trees, the branches drooping under layers of snow. Some of them stretch over the walkway, woven with twinkling lights, so it feels like you’re walking through some kind of enchanted tunnel.

It’s the kind of thing that could make anyone believe in magic, and Satoru would probably be soaking it all in… if he wasn’t so preoccupied with watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Your nose is pink, your cheeks dusted with color from the cold, and there’s a light in your eyes that makes something stir in his chest. He tugs his scarf a little higher, like that’ll help somehow.

Then, just ahead, golden light spills onto the snow. A sleigh comes into view, and Satoru slows his steps as you round the corner and see it.

It’s impressive, even he has to admit. The carriage looks straight out of some over-the-top fairytale, polished black and draped with garlands of evergreen—dusted in fresh snow. Strings of soft golden lights wind along the edges, glowing warmly in the dark.

The horses, two massive creatures with sleek dark coats, stand tall and still, their breath misting in the air. Tiny bells dangle from their bridles, giving a soft jingle every time they shift.

It’s almost too picturesque, like something out of one of those cheesy Christmas movies Satoru always pretends to hate.

He doesn’t look at the sleigh, though. He looks at you.

Your eyes go wide, your mouth parting slightly in surprise, and for a moment, you’re so still he wonders if the cold finally got to you. The snowflakes catch in your hair, the glow of the lights reflecting in your wide-eyed expression, and there it is again—that quiet spark that makes his chest tighten.

“Well?” he breaks the silence with a quiet murmur. “Was it… worth the trek through the Arctic tundra?”

You blink, dragging your gaze away from the sleigh to look at him. There’s something different in your expression now—softer, quieter.

“You did all this?”

He shrugs, slipping his free hand into his coat pocket and forcing a grin onto his face.

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

“Ridiculous…” you murmur, shaking your head with a faint smile, but there’s no edge to your words. Just that quiet disbelief, like you’re still trying to figure him out.

He gestures to the sleigh with an exaggerated sweep of his hand.

“Well? You gonna stand there and let the snow bury you, or are you getting in?”

The driver steps aside with a polite nod, and Satoru’s already moving to help you—steadying you as you step up into the sleigh, his hand lingering at your waist.

When you settle into the plush seat with a quiet exhale, Satoru’s brain takes a quick pause to tell himself that he’s absolutely screwed.

Because if Satoru thought walking through the snow with your hand in his was dangerous, this is a death blow.

But he still climbs in beside you, moments later—tugging the blanket over your laps as the sleigh jolts softly forward.

The bells chime faintly as the horses’ hooves crunch against the snow. They carry you both down the path, allowing the forest to melt away completely as the sleigh crests a small hill, and suddenly, the town comes into view—a world awash in color and magic.

Lights shimmer from every surface—woven through trees, strung like ribbons between lamp posts, wrapped snug around shopfronts as though the entire place has been dipped in starlight.

Shop windows gleam with warmth, framed by wreaths and garlands dusted with frost, while displays of tiny trains, glowing reindeer, and spinning nutcrackers turn slowly behind the glass.

As the sleigh turns fully onto the main street, Satoru glances at you, and predictably, you’re completely mesmerized.

He knows, because you’ve gone completely still beside him—your breath visible in the cold as you take it all in—and he doesn’t even bother to look at the lights anymore, not when you’re staring at them like you’ve stumbled into a dream.

That glow in your expression—soft and open—that’s what mesmerizes him. And the reflection of the lights in your wide eyes gives him the urge to bottle this moment—keep it tucked in his coat pocket forever, so he can pull it out and look at it whenever the world gets too loud.

The bells from the horses chime softly, blending seamlessly with the hum of life ahead—children laughing, carols echoing, the soft crunch of fresh snow.

But Satoru can’t focus on any of that.

Snowflakes have caught in your hair, little flecks of white like frost spun from the lights above. Your lips, soft and faintly parted, are far too close to his line of sight, and his gaze catches there for longer than it should.

Satoru’s brain is short-circuiting.

He’s never been good at this. Restraint. Holding back. Not when it comes to things he wants, things he craves—and God, does he crave your lips so badly.

You shift slightly, burrowing deeper into his side with a soft hum of contentment that nearly knocks the wind out of him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you murmur suddenly, as soft as the snow.

He clears his throat lightly, tipping his head back in a lazy attempt at distraction—trying to focus on literally anything else.

“Yeah… not bad,” his voice carries the faintest edge of smugness. “Bet you’re glad I dragged you out here now.”

You hum softly, a little laugh under your breath.

“Yeah… guess I’ll give you this one.”

But as you shift slightly again, your head tilts, and your gaze lingers on something ahead.

In the square below, a father spins his daughter in his arms as she shrieks with laughter—bright red mittens flailing in the air. The mother stands beside then with a warm soft smile, brushing the snowflakes gently out of the little girl’s hair as she settles still.

It’s simple—a fleeting moment of joy—but Satoru notices the way your expression changes. The glow in your eyes dim, just slightly, fading into something distant, something far away.

He doesn’t like it.

It’s not the first time he’s seen that look either. It’s lingered in your eyes at odd moments during the month when you think he isn’t watching.

“Hey… you okay?”

The question snaps you from whatever memory you’ve fallen into. You blink quickly, turning to him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“What? Oh… yeah. I’m fine.”

It’s a lie. A bad one.

Satoru knows it instantly because your voice wavers, just slightly, and your hands fidget under the blanket like they’re looking for something to hold onto.

He doesn’t push right away. Satoru isn’t great at handling fragile things—he’s all big, teasing words and careless confidence—but seeing this?

You—retreating into yourself, suddenly quiet? Yeah… it never really sits right with him.

“You know…” he starts carefully, voice softening as he watches you, “you’ve already heard all about my old man. But you… you don’t really talk about your family much. What was Christmas like for you growing up?”

The words settle like snow between you—soft, quiet, but heavy. You stiffen slightly.

Fuck. Maybe he’s said too much. Regret flickers in the back of his mind. He’s half-expecting you to deflect.

You hesitate, staring at the lights again as though they’ll save you from answering, and for the first time, Satoru curses those damn Christmas lights. They feel like they’re pulling you away from him.

But then you sigh, and the sound makes something twist low in his chest. It’s too careful. Too practiced.

“Mmm… there’s not much to talk about,” you admit quietly. “My parents weren’t exactly… involved, so Christmas wasn’t really a thing for us.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches you carefully, like he’s waiting. He knows there’s more, and he’s careful not to push, not yet.

“I used to watch all the Christmas movies, though,” a faint wistful smile tugs at your lips. “The ones where families sat by the fire… wrapping gifts and baking cookies, singing carols together. It felt… magical. Safe. Like they belonged there.”

The smile slips slightly, and Satoru sees the moment the words shift—when they stop being a memory and start being something else entirely.

“But…” your voice dips to a whisper, “Honestly it was like watching through a window. I felt like a spectator. Always outside looking in.”

There it is.

The words hit him square in the chest, sharp and unrelenting, and Satoru hates it. Hates how small you sound when you say it, like you don’t realize how wrong it is for someone like you—you—to feel that way. It makes his jaw tighten, his fingers twitching faintly under the blanket.

“That’s not fair,” he blurts out, faster than he means to. The sharp edge in his voice surprises even him, but he doesn’t care. “I hate it. It’s not right. You shouldn’t have had to feel like that.”

Your head turns slightly, your eyes flicking back to him, startled.

“Satoru—”

“It’s not fair,” he repeats, reining it in slightly this time. He shakes his head, turning to look at you fully now. “And you know what? It’s not like that now. You’ve done the exact opposite.”

You blink again, your brows furrowing faintly.

“What do you mean?”

The surprise on your face makes him huff a quiet laugh. He can’t believe you don’t see it.

“C’mon now sweetheart… I mean, look at Haru.”

Your expression softens at the mention of her, and Satoru feels that familiar twist in his chest—this inexplicable warmth that’s only grown stronger since you and Haru came crashing into his life.

“She’s a happy kid,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve made her a happy kid. Kind of a little terror sometimes—definitely gets that from you—but happy nonetheless.”

You roll your eyes faintly, but there’s a tug at the corner of your mouth that you can’t quite hide.

“Seriously,” he continues, a smirk teasing at his lips now. “That kid lights up at the dumbest stuff—like that ornament she found with the penguin in a Santa hat. You’d think she struck gold. She made me stare at that thing for ten minutes straight.”

You groan, pressing a gloved hand to your face, but there’s a small laugh behind it now.

“She did the same to me.”

Satoru chuckles, low and easy, though his expression softens as he looks at you.

“Because to her, it is magic. You made that happen. You gave her something real, something she’ll hold onto forever. The kind of magic you didn’t have.”

You open your mouth like you want to say something but can’t quite get there yet, and he leans in closer.

“And it’s not just her…” he murmurs hesitantly. “You’ve done that for me too.”

His blue eyes fix on yours with a quiet vulnerability, and your brows furrow faintly as you stare at him.

“What? Really?”

For a moment, Satoru freezes.

Vulnerability isn’t something he’s good at—it doesn’t come naturally to him; he’s always kept people at arm’s length. But somehow, around you, it slips out easier than he expects. Like you’ve managed to dismantle his walls one smile, one moment at a time.

Around you, he doesn’t have to try so hard. And it’s fucking terrifying.

His throat tightens, but he shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing—even though he knows it’s everything.

“Look… I used to sit in these massive rooms my dad filled with people. All the decorations, all the noise—he made sure it looked perfect. Trees the size of small buildings, tables stacked with enough food to feed an army.”

Satoru pauses, his blue gaze flickering to the snow-dusted path ahead before settling back on you.

“But… none of it mattered. I’d sit there, surrounded by hundreds of people, and still felt so damn alone. Like I wasn’t really there, y’know?”

Your face softens, and he feels it again—that warmth that only seems to exist when you’re looking at him like this, like you can see straight through him. You always do.

“But now?” he exhales, breath curling into the cold air like smoke—his eyes meeting yours fully. “Christmas feels… different. Doesn’t feel so empty anymore.”

“…yeah?”

“Yup…” he shakes off the tension with a sigh, and smugly adds, “You’ve officially ruined Christmas for me, sweetheart. Thanks a lot. Can’t have it any other way now.”

Your laughter comes quietly, and God, there’s that sound that he loves again. Your gloved hand finds his underneath the blanket.

“Well…” your fingers curl around his. “Thanks to you, I finally don’t feel like a spectator anymore… ‘cause you’re in my life.”

Shit.

Satoru swears his heart trips over itself. For a guy who never feels the cold, he’s never felt this warm.

The sleigh jolts suddenly, rolling over a bump in the snow, and the movement sends you swaying against him with a soft gasp.

You’re so close—close enough that he can see the faint blush on your cheeks, the soft part of your lips as you glance up at him.

Your gaze flickers—just once—down to his mouth.

That’s it.

He leans in, his hand slipping out from under the blanket to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin as he kisses you.

The first press of his lips against yours is careful, tentative, but then you sigh softly, tilting your head slightly, and Satoru’s restraint snaps like a wire pulled too tight.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, as Satoru tilts your face up to meet him properly. His other hand finds your waist, the curve of it fitting perfectly under his palm as he pulls you closer—closer, because he needs you like he needs to breathe.

He swears he’s losing his mind.

You respond just as eagerly, your fingers curling into the front of his coat, and Satoru groans softly against your mouth—equal parts relief and desperation.

He’s screwed. Utterly, completely screwed.

Because now that he’s kissed you, he doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to stop. All he can think about—all he wants—is to pull you into his lap right here on this stupid sleigh and kiss you until the world stops spinning.

His mind betrays him, flooding with images he has no business thinking about right now. Your legs straddling his hips, your coat slipping off one shoulder, coaxing sounds from you that he’s dying to hear—fuck he’s losing himself completely.

He wants to take you—away from the prying world, away from everyone—somewhere that’s just the two of you—home.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only because even Satoru Gojo can’t survive without air forever. But he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests gently against yours and his thumb brushes softly along your jaw.

The corner of your mouth curves faintly and your eyes linger on him—just enough to make his heart skip like it’s forgotten how to work.

It’s torture. Absolute, pure, devastating torture.

His thumb drifts lower along your jaw, reverently tracing the soft line of it. He could stay here forever, just like this—your breath mixing with his in the cold air, your lips pink and kiss-bruised from him.

God, you’ve never looked more beautiful. He wants more.

Shifting slightly, his breath fans across your lips as he murmurs, “You’re so perfect… you’re making this really hard for me, y’know that?”

Blinking up at him, your lips tug into a soft, teasing smile. “Oh?” you murmur, breathlessly. “And what exactly am I making hard, Satoru?”

His breath hitches. Shit. You’re going to be the death of him. He chuckles softly—strained and fraying like his self-control.

“Careful, sweetheart. Keep asking questions like that, and I might just take you home right now.”

Tilting your head, your voice lowers—a quiet challenge.

“…why don’t you, then?”

God, what the fuck are you doing to him?

For a moment, he wants to say screw it. Forget the stupid sleigh, the town, his plans. Forget the world and take you straight to bed where he doesn’t have to hold back anymore.

Take her. Have her all to yourself.

But then your wide, daring eyes lock onto his, and it hits him—you’re playing him—you’re winning. And Satoru Gojo does not lose.

With a slow, shaky breath, he pulls back just slightly. The smirk curling at his lips is lazy, practiced—masking the fact that he’s literally about five seconds from falling apart.

“Mmm… tempting,” he drawls, brushing the pad of his gloved thumb against your bottom lip. “But I’m not that easy to break, sweetheart. Besides, we’ve got more to explore.”

Your eyes narrow faintly, suspicion flickering beneath the teasing curve of your lips.

“You’re unbelievable…”

“Mm, you say that now,” he sighs, “But you’ll thank me later.”

You scoff quietly, rolling your eyes as you lean back just an inch.

“More to explore, huh?”

“Yeah.” His grin widens, lazy and lopsided. “And if you’re good, I might even let you hold my hand the whole time.”

ꨄ

“You’re going to rot your teeth, you know,” you say, watching as Satoru unwraps yet another snickerdoodle cookie—his fifth, by your count.

“Excuse you.” He pauses dramatically, holding the cookie up like it’s a priceless artifact. “I’m single-handedly funding this poor vendor’s retirement. Call me generous.”

You snort into your hot chocolate.

“More like you’re single-handedly making sure they run out of stock before dinner.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He takes a slow, deliberate, obnoxiously loud bite, eyes locked on you the whole time. “I’m boosting the economy, sweetheart.”

“You’re boosting your dentist’s next paycheck, honey.”

Satoru groans, tossing his head back like you’ve just deeply insulted his honor.

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t appreciate the artistry of sweets like I do.”

“Oh, I appreciate them,” you retort smugly, tugging him away by his coat sleeve before he can eye the next vendor’s table. “I just don’t inhale sugar like I’m storing it for winter.”

“Amateur,” Satoru quips, biting into the cookie with dramatic flair. “You’ll learn.”

“Yeah yeah… I’m cutting you off before you go into a sugar coma.”

“Cutting me off?” He presses a hand to his chest like you’ve insulted his entire existence. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” You grin victoriously, striding ahead of him through the snow-dappled streets.

“Cold. Heartless. A tyrant, really.” Satoru’s voice follows dramatically as he trudges after you, shoving the final bite into his mouth with zero shame. “This is abuse, I tell you.”

“You’ll live.”

“Barely.”

The two of you wander together through the town, your shoulders brushing every so often as you pass small stalls and shops.

The shop windows glow faintly, wreaths and garlands framing every corner, and the air smells of roasted chestnuts and warm cinnamon.

You stop suddenly ahead of him, your steps faltering as your gaze locks onto the massive Christmas tree at the center of the square.

Satoru follows your gaze, and the thing is ridiculous—exactly the kind of over-the-top nonsense Satoru’s father would brag about back in the day. Towering, glittering, competing with the stars like it thinks it has a chance.

But for once, Satoru doesn’t care about the ridiculousness. He only cares about you.

You stand perfectly still, staring up at the tree with something quiet and awed in your expression, like you’ve forgotten the rest of the world exists.

The golden lights catch in your eyes, snowflakes drifting lazily into your hair, and the faintest pink lingers across your cheeks from the cold. You’re glowing—and maybe it’s the lights, or maybe it’s just you.

You look perfect. You look his.

There’s that urge again—capturing this moment, bottling in up, keeping it for himself.

The feeling is so sudden, and before he can second-guess it, his hand slips into his coat pocket, pulling out his phone.

The shutter clicks.

Your head whips around instantly, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

Satoru freezes, phone still half-raised, trying to look as nonchalant as a man caught red-handed can. “Nope.”

Your eyes narrow further, shifting on your feet. “Satoru.”

“I was… texting someone,” he says weakly, his grin betraying him.

“Texting who?” you press, eyebrow arching.

“Santa,” he deadpans. “Telling him you’re being mean to me. Again.”

The flat look you give him is priceless. “Good lord. You’re impossible.”

Satoru grins triumphantly, twirling the phone between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. “Fine, fine. You caught me. I couldn’t help it. You looked cute.”

The faint flush of your cheeks deepens slightly—probably the cold, he tells himself, but he’ll take it anyway.

“Let me see it.”

“Not a chance.”

Your glare sharpens, and Satoru swears you’re plotting his demise. “Satoru. Hand it over.”

He snorts, immediately shoving the phone into his coat pocket. “You’re cute when you’re bossy, you know that?”

You step closer, determination lighting your expression. “I will fight you.”

“You wanna wrestle me in the middle of town?” Satoru raises a smug brow, delighting in the way you’re glaring up at him. “With kids around? Heartless, sweetheart. Absolutely heartless.”

Before you try to snatch his phone from his coat pocket, he moves faster—his arm looping lazily around your waist, tugging you into his side with practiced ease.

The suddenness knocks you off balance for a moment, and you let out a soft, startled laugh. Satoru can’t help but grin, using the moment to pull you even closer.

“Alright, alright…” he murmurs, pulling out his phone. “Here. Let’s take one together. Our first real photo together—no work, no press. Just you and me.”

You blink, your eyes flickering up to meet his, the faintest surprise crossing your face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, though the warmth in his voice gives him away. “Gotta document the occasion. Might be the only proof I have that you tolerate me. C’mon, lean in.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s no hiding your smile as you let him pull you closer. He adjusts the camera, keeping his arm secure around you.

“Alright,” he says, angling the phone just right. “Say ‘Gojo Satoru’s the love of my life.’”

You snort, laughing as you nudge him. “I’m not saying that.”

“Mmm… I’ll wait.”

Your laughter bursts through the square, bright and unrestrained, just as the shutter clicks. Before you can recover, Satoru leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as he steals another shot—your laughter caught mid-breath.

“Hey!” you yelp, pulling back to glare at him, but you’re still smiling.

Satoru grins down at the photo as he flips the screen to show you. “Look at that. Photographic evidence that you adore me.”

You gape at him, incredulous. “Adore you?”

“Yep.” He winks, tucking his phone back into his pocket before you can swipe it, catching your hand instead. “Captured for infinity. You’re welcome.”

Your grip tightens on instinct, and you open your mouth to argue, but Satoru beats you to it.

“C’mon,” he swings your hand lightly as he starts pulling you forward again. “The candy stall up ahead has fudge.”

ꨄ

The two of you wander back through the streets, hand in hand as the shops blur by in warm, golden streaks of light.

Satoru doesn’t mind wandering—especially when it means you tugging him along by the hand, pausing every so often to peer into window displays. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you light up at the smallest things.

But then you stop abruptly in front of one shop in particular.

It’s so sudden that Satoru nearly keeps walking, your hand tugging him gently to a halt. When he glances over, he follows your gaze straight to the window of an antique shop tucked snug between two cafes.

And there it is. The locket.

It rests beneath a glass dome, perched on velvet as though it’s worth more than the shop itself. The silver surface gleams faintly under the soft, golden light, delicate and timeless, and engraved across the front is an infinity symbol—curved and flowing endlessly into itself.

Satoru tilts his head slightly, his brows lifting in quiet curiosity as he watches you stare at it—as if that locket holds the entire universe within it.

“See something you like?” he murmurs, looping his arms around your waist and pulling you gently into his chest.

He feels the way you relax into him almost immediately, your hands curling lightly around his forearms.

“Infinity…” you whisper.

He hums, burying his face into the curve of your neck, nuzzling there like he’s trying to steal the warmth of you.

“Hmm?”

You don’t answer right away, your gaze still locked on the locket. Satoru takes the opportunity to press a lazy kiss against the soft skin of your neck, his lips curving into a grin when he feels you shiver slightly beneath him.

“What’s got you so lost in there, huh?” he teases.

“Hmm? Oh…” You blink, your cheeks tinged faintly pink as you glance back at him. “I was just thinking about what you said. About infinity.”

He raises a brow now, a slow grin spreading across his face as he straightens just enough to nudge his chin toward the locket.

“Yeah? You been pondering the mysteries of the universe without me?”

You turn slightly in his arms, your gaze lifting to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you.

“Well,” you begin, smiling faintly, “I’ve been thinking… you’re… well, you’re kind of like infinity, aren’t you?”

Satoru blinks, his grin faltering for a split second.

“Me?”

“Yeah… you’re always moving, always bigger than life, like there’s no end to who you are. You don’t stop—don’t ever really slow down. You’re... limitless.”

For once, Satoru’s brain stalls. Completely. He’s torn between a smug She thinks about me like that? and the sudden ache in his chest that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He sees the way you’re looking at him—soft, honest, like you’re laying something fragile and important at his feet—and it hits him harder than anything he’s prepared for.

Satoru tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer as though that’ll somehow ground him.

“You really think that?” A softness creeps into his voice. “That I remind you of infinity?”

You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. Your gaze drops for a moment before lifting again, steady this time.

“Yeah… because no matter what... you’ll always protect me. You’ll always be here, won’t you? Like infinity. Always.”

Satoru’s breath catches. For once, he doesn’t have a clever comeback. He doesn’t have anything except this overwhelming, all-consuming feeling swelling in his chest.

He dips his head, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. It’s the only answer he has.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs quietly. “Always.”

For a moment, he lingers there, his forehead pressed to yours, your breath mingling in the cold. Then, with a small grin tugging at his lips, he pulls back slightly, arms still secure around you.

“C’mon,” he sighs affectionately. “There’s still fudge with my name on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, your hand slipping back into his as he tugs you gently forward. But as you fall into step beside him, Satoru’s gaze drifts back to the shop window, to the locket resting beneath the glass.

Infinity, huh?

The faintest smile plays on his lips as he squeezes your hand lightly. He finally knows what he’s getting you for Christmas.

ꨄ

For Satoru, Christmas morning felt… surreal.

The Gojo estate, usually silent and polished like a showroom, had transformed into something far more, filled with a warmth—Haru’s delighted squeals echoing down the halls, filling the empty spaces with pure, unfiltered joy.

“Mama! ‘Toru! Wake up! Hurry, hurry!”

Her voice carries like a one-person parade, punctuated by the rapid thump of her tiny feet sprinting towards the tree, and Satoru groans into his pillow—dragging a hand over his face as if that would erase the early hour.

The sun wasn’t even properly up yet, and here he was, reluctantly dragged from the cocoon of his bed by the infectious energy of a two-year-old.

He shuffled down the hall in his pajama pants and hoodie, stifling a yawn as he dragged a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Haru—a blur of bedhead and reindeer pajamas, arms flailing as she skidded to a halt in front of the Christmas tree. Her tiny hands clapped together as her wide eyes took in the mountain of carefully wrapped presents beneath it, glittering under the soft glow of twinkling lights.

“Mama! ‘Toru! Look! Presents!!” she squeals, bouncing on her toes, so full of excitement that Satoru half-expects her to rocket straight into the air.

He leans lazily against the doorframe, watching her with an amused grin. This kid… she was like a wound-up toy, running purely on joy and Christmas spirit. It tugged at something in him—a place he didn’t even realize had been empty until now.

“How does she have this much energy so early in the morning?” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder just as you appeared behind him.

You looked impossibly cozy—wrapped in your pajamas, your hair tousled from sleep. In your hands were two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which you handed to him without a word.

“She’s almost three,” you say simply, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “And it’s Christmas. Welcome to parenthood. This is her prime time.”

“Prime time for chaos,” he quips, taking a careful sip of his coffee.

He shoots Haru a mock-suspicious glance as she darts around the tree—tiny hands hovering over the presents like she’s trying to decide where to start.

“You sure Santa didn’t slip her a double espresso in her stocking?”

Your laugh is quiet and warm, the kind that made the corners of his mouth tug upward instinctively, and he couldn’t help but think how ridiculously domestic this all felt—Haru bouncing by the tree, you standing beside him with that soft, sleepy glow.

It was almost unsettling how much he liked it… how much he cherished it.

His gaze shifts back to Haru, who was now crouched in front of the tree, examining the tags on the presents like a tiny detective—a kind of joy so radiant it made something tighten in Satoru’s chest.

It hit him then—here he was, watching Haru’s eyes light up with the same wonder he never got to feel growing up. His Christmases had always been all flash and no magic. Gilded parties, perfectly wrapped gifts that lacked thought, and a cold sort of extravagance that filled rooms but never hearts.

But this?

This was different. Seeing Haru’s excitement now felt like reclaiming something he didn’t even know he’d lost.

“Mama! ‘Toru!” Haru’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts as she holds up a box triumphantly. “Look! Look! For me!”

“Man, Santa really outdid himself this year,” Satoru drawls, stretching an arms over his head as he plops onto the couch beside you.

He made a show of sipping his coffee like he hadn’t been the one painstakingly arranging the presents under the tree just hours earlier.

You’d handed him ribbons to tie, smirking as he fumbled with the tape, and rolled your eyes as he huffed about how ‘unnecessarily complicated’ wrapping paper was.

And then there’d been the cookies and hot chocolate Haru had left out for Santa, which he devoured with exaggerated flair. You’d caught him red-handed, crumbs still on his face, and he grinned sheepishly, muttering something about how Santa worked hard and deserved a snack.

It had been... nice. Warm. Like stepping into a life he always thought was meant for other people, not him.

But Haru?

She didn’t care about Satoru’s epiphanies. She was too busy shredding wrapping paper like her life depended on it.

The morning quickly descended into a delightful chaos—a whirlwind of torn ribbons, squeals of delight, and an ever-growing pile of toys. Haru didn’t just open her gifts; she paraded each one around the room like a prized trophy.

A dollhouse, a pink fluffy stuffed bear (that was for you, right?), and a set of art supplies. Every present came with an enthusiastic ‘Mama, look!’, making you laugh while Satoru grinned like an idiot.

And his attention… well, it kept drifting back to you.

The way you tucked your legs beneath yourself on the couch, leaning slightly into his shoulder as you sipped your coffee. The way your eyes softened whenever Haru ran to you, clutching another gift—her excitement bubbling over.

The way the light from the tree caught in your hair, making you look like you belonged in this moment… more than anything else ever had.

“Mama, look!” Haru gasps yet again, holding up a small box wrapped in gold paper. “Santa didn’t forget you!”

You blink, momentarily startled, as she thrusts the box into your hands before darting back to the tree—already rummaging for her next gift with boundless energy. Your gaze, however, shifts toward Satoru, narrowing with playful suspicion.

“Oh really?” you arch an eyebrow, grinning.

Satoru scratches the back of his head, feigning nonchalance even as a smug grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t look at me,” he shrugs. “That’s between you and Santa. Guy’s always been a softie for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention to the package, peeling back the carefully wrapped paper to reveal a small rosewood box.

The craftsmanship immediately catches your eye—with rich, dark wood, smooth to the touch. Two turtle doves are etched with breathtaking detail across the lid—wings entwined in a delicate dance of devotion. As you trace the design with your fingertips, the doves seem to almost flutter underneath—a stunning work of art.

And as you lift the lid, your breath hitches.

Nestled inside is the platinum heart-shaped locket, glinting under the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Encircling the heart is a delicate band of diamonds, each stone catching light like tiny frozen stars. And there, at the center of the locket’s face, is that infinity emblem you know so well—etched with graceful precision.

Your breath catches—your chest tightening as you carefully lift the locket from its velvet cradle. The weight of it is delicate yet grounding in your palm.

“Satoru…” you murmur in awe.

Beside you, he nudges your shoulder gently—his grin softening into something quieter, something more vulnerable.

“Open it.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp, and the locket falls open, revealing the secret it holds.

On one side was the photo he’d snapped of the two of you in the town square—you laughing, your cheeks pink from the cold, while he pressed a kiss to your cheek with that obnoxiously smug grin.

On the other side was another photo—one you hadn’t even known he’d taken—a candid shot of you and Haru in the kitchen, flour dusting your nose as you helped her decorate cookies.

Your smiles were radiant, unguarded, and completely at ease.

For a moment, you just stare, your lips parting slightly as you tried to form words. Satoru leans closer, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder.

“You said… infinity reminded you of me,” he says quietly. “So… I thought maybe this could remind you of us.”

Your eyes lift to meet his, shimmering with an emotion so raw and overwhelming it makes him hold his breath. Then, without a word, you reach up, cup his face with both hands, and kiss him.

It’s soft, deliberate, and unhurried—the kind of kiss that makes him feel like maybe the universe doesn’t have to be so vast and infinite. Not when it can be filled with moments like this.

Before he can fully bask in the moment, Haru’s delighted squeal cuts through the air like a firework.

“Mama! Look! A big one!”

Satoru turns to see her tiny hands tugging at a large, carefully wrapped box partially hidden behind the tree. She tries to drag it forward, but honestly the box is way bigger than her.

You laugh softly, already stepping up from your seat to guide her hands away.

“Oh… that one’s not for you, sweetheart. It’s for Satoru.”

Satoru blinks, caught off guard. For him?

He doesn’t even have time to process it before Haru’s face twists into the most dramatic pout he’s ever seen—complete with trembling lips and misty eyes. She crosses her arms like she’s about to stage a sit-in protest right then and there.

“What? No fair!”

Satoru chuckles, setting his coffee mug aside as he pushes himself up from the couch with an exaggerated groan.

“Alright, alright,” he ruffles Haru’s hair as he crouches beside her. “How about this? You help me open it, and I’ll share whatever’s inside. Deal?”

Haru’s pout vanishes like snow in the sun, replaced by a radiant grin as she nods enthusiastically.

“Okay!”

With Haru leading the charge, they attack the wrapping paper like a two-person wrecking crew. Satoru makes a big show of struggling with the ribbon, grunting and pretending to pull with all his strength. Haru giggles at his theatrics, and finally, the last shred of paper falls away.

As the box opens, Satoru stills.

Inside is a telescope—sleek and polished to perfection. His hand trails over the smooth surface, and suddenly he was eight years old again, lying on his back in the garden with a telescope propped on the grass, mapping constellations under a vast, endless sky.

But then, his eyes widen as his fingers brush across something etched on its side. Engraved with precision, is the constellation Lyra—the harp.

Satoru knows enough about stars to understand its meaning. Lyra represents love, devotion, and music. It’s the constellation of Orpheus and Eurydice—a love story as infinite as the stars themselves.

For a long moment, all he can do is stare, his thumb brushing lightly over the engraving as if to ground himself. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until your voice pulls him back.

“You recognize it?” you ask softly.

He glances up at you, the grin on his face softening into something quieter, something real.

“Mhmm... It’s Lyra.”

You step closer, the faintest hint of nerves in the way you tug at the hem of your pajama sleeve.

“I thought… I thought you’d like an upgrade…” you say shyly, “You love the stars, and I thought you deserved something that made you feel… closer to them.”

Satoru’s throat tightens, and he can’t speak right away, but before he even has the chance to, Haru tugs at his sleeve impatiently, breaking the moment.

“What is it? What is it?” she demands, eyes wide with curiosity.

Satoru lets out a breathless laugh, pulling her onto his lap as he turns the telescope slightly so she can see.

“This, my little star, is how we can see the sky up close. The stars, the moon, even planets if we’re lucky.”

Her eyes widen. “The stars? I wanna see the stars ‘toru!”

“Okay, princess. Tonight, I’ll show you the whole sky.”

“Yay!!” Haru gleams, bouncing on his lap.

Satoru chuckles, steadying her with one arm, but as Haru chatters away, his gaze drifts back to you.

You’re standing quietly a few steps away, watching the scene unfold with that soft, knowing smile that always makes his heart trip over itself. The glow of the Christmas tree casts a faint halo around you, and for a moment, Satoru wonders how he ever existed without this—without you.

Wordlessly, he tilts his head, beckoning you closer. When you step forward, his free arm slips around your waist, pulling you gently down to sit next to him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then finally your lips—slow, unhurried, and laced with everything he can’t quite put into words.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

It’s not just for the telescope. It’s for this moment, for this morning, for you. Your fingers trail softly over his cheek, and he swears you’re glowing.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru…” you murmur quietly.

“Merry Christmas… sweetheart.”

There’s a warmth in your eyes that feels like home, and for the first time in his life, he understands what it means to be content.

This—this moment, this family, this love—it’s everything. It’s infinite.

And as the three of you sit there, bathed in the glow of the Christmas tree, Satoru realizes something he’s never dared to believe.

He finally belongs.

a/n. i got in my feels writing this. as someone who struggles around the holidays, this was real cathartic to write. hope you guys have an incredible holiday season with the ones you love—thanks for reading, sending hugs! ♡

taglist:

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @acowboykisser @mikyapixie @rosso-seta

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christiancj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg

@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @illianasa @pinksaiyans @gojoslefttoenail

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What vibes does your future relationship give off ? (18+)

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

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PILE 1

SONG : TAKE YOU DOWN - SZA

SORRY BABE BUT YOUR READING IS LONGER 😭

PILE 2 

SONG : BABY - REMA

6 swords (reverse), judgement (reverse) 8 wands, King pentacles (reverse) 

This is the friend of your older brother. He’s writing a paragraph as a text while he's drunk… which he will never send. He may engage in dangerous behavior because he's behind the wheel texting it but he's not driving … just sitting there. Like he took a moment away from the party to catch some fresh air.  

There's so much sexual frustration and tension in his body is incredible. 

There's a clicking of keys… which is important. Is like his pondering if he should leave or spend the night over like it was planned. I don't think he will actually drive … should he leave, he would tag along with other boys to an actual party. Is like your brother has a lot on his mind regarding another girl from uni … you will not know. You will just be shocked he came back from campus earlier. Even your mom, like her heart might stop. Lol she is so sure for a moment that your brother got kicked out, your brother may have problems accepting answering to more important people ever since he’s a child. Like he’s not annoying or rude, he may come like that but he actually has good reasons to act up. He may be a crash out, but it's always been justified. Lol the bffs are going through it with women … they both seem to deal with it the same way … running away. They may actually act like fucking twin brothers at times. 

What the actually fuck ? I though I actually dealt with my fucking heart. I aint even lie, this past years I try to take my fucking distance with you. I mean I am trying to stay alive and keep my balls. Do you know what would happen to me if your brother could read my brain ? Especially with the past I have, fuck what past … I am too emotionally available with females … he’s not wrong keeping me away from you . I mean … I may not be worth you but can your homeboy dream ? I did not know you have to ask permission to think ? Why do I have to ask permission to use my own brain while you take possession of my thoughts 24/7 like you are paying the bills in this bitch. Your brother told me, we were going to surprise you today. I know he’s was running away, I am always going to have bro back but fuck why do I have to get fucked in the process ? You were in your bed, your long hair braided, legs hanging, wearing your short booty shorts, white tee dancing to some pop girl music (his snorting). Dancing like a maniac (explosion of laughter). The scream that came out of you is deserving of an Oscar but the way I had to keep my composure  when you jumped in my arms after hugging your bro was something. Fuck I miss having my hands around you, I miss caring for you, I miss your face, your scent and even your weird habits. Than you came downstair cooking something for me and the bros because your mom was caught up in a meeting and we can’t fucking cook to safe ourselves. Again I had to keep my composure, while your body was moving lazily to the music in your headphones. Keep my eyes on the game, keep my focus on the conversation, keep my attention on the character on the screen. When all I wanted to do was peeking at you. Than like you wanted to torture me … you put the plates a front of us with smile before running back upstairs to your bedroom. All I could think about for the rest of the evening, while drinking was do I claim a need to the bathroom so I can stare at you through the door … FUCK when did I become a such creep ? 

That man grew up in a house where spanking, physical abuse was the way to discipline. 

You often grow up, watching him with purple eyes, you thought maybe he had a temper he was hiding you because he's always calm whenever he deals with you, your family, fuck almost everybody, yet…

For some y’all actually know him since childhood and he always had bruises on him, so you never question it. When  you were younger you even though he had a purple birth scar. This shows the frequency and the normality of the assault he endured for your kid brain to normalize it. 

For some of you, that are fucking shock about that text … to confirm is him … go ask him about his family, childhood or parents, that will be your confirmation that's the pile for you. 

For the one too shocked to believe it, remember that energy is ever changing but if you keep up living the way you do, you will in fact finish your life with  the bff of your older brother. To unclaimed, change something … To claim … no need is already yours (I just saw someone giggling … LOL) 

This collective y’all are really shocked he will actually be interested in you because he treats you like a little sis… from my humble tarot reader opinion … he is too protective and soft for it not to be romance. The intensity in which he holds your gaze is too much to just be platonic 

I just heard : ‘’But nah girl…’’. BABE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE. 

The card also shows that he is terrified to show care, empathy and love. You guys have no idea how stoic he is whenever he is interacting with his environment. The fact that he he check on you, the fact that you can call him when you need help (availability), the fact that he reply quickly (you don't how many people he leaves on deliver … ), the fact that he goes out of his way to always bring your fav snack, the fact that he always make sure nobody is annoying you at work, school or even calm your brother down when his become too smart with you . Or the FUCKING fact that he actually smile at (even though is fucking small), the fact that he don't mind hugging you. He's only that soft for you, there's not a single girl he fuck, been a relationship with or even flirt with in which he was this attentive and kind. 

He’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. 

VIBES: Crush, brother bff, secrecy, secret admire and one sided romance 

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PILE 3

SONG: JONI - SZA FT Don Toliver

POV is your past self and future self. Is like a small note. Maybe you guys use the note in your phone like a diary. 

The Chérie D’Amour coming from PILE 2, this is your POV from the situation in PILE 2. Also your brother doesn't know you are out there living an all year hot girl summer and have a whole roster. They only see you as your innocent self. Funny enough (my own  observation), now I understand how hard it is for you to believe what I wrote because you are the same. The dude plays mister nonchalant, while you play Miss Innocent. Both of you have a facade that does not exist with each other. Like you guys actually have an intimate bond with each other. You allow yourself to be soft with him and he allows himself to accept it.

PAST: 9swords, 9 wands (reverse) 

 You are on the bus. A week after a crazy night where u spend the night at your one night or maybe sneaky link. You just have an epiphany 

Honestly … I want more. Is it crazy to say. I want someone to hold me close while playing in my hair. I want someone to look at me like I am the star of their life, like maybe if they look away I may vanish. I want to be the banter of their existence. I want to be the reason for their every breath. I want to go on vacation with the one that loves me. The one that will spend hours, hours and his money just to see a smile on my face. Someone ready to die to hear me laugh. Someone who is just like Jack, will let me, Rose stay on the door  because he prefers a cold death than letting me feel the pain of Atlantic water. Someone will pick me up bridal style after I call him because I am too drunk with my homegirl and can't make my way home. I want someone to comfort me when the tears are rolling down  my cheeks, I want someone to drop anything when my voice has a subtle shake and I want someone to be my safe haven. I want someone who will enjoy spending time with me even when all we do is sit in silence in a quiet room. I want to slow dance in the living room while the dinner is cooking. (Bitter laugh) What the fuck for ? Even if the one came I will destroy it the same way I destroy the marriage of my parents. Maybe all I actually need is a break from having sex. I am tired of getting disappointed , I am tired of sexting, I am tired of the 2 am booty call, I am tired of being easy, I am tired of hair pulling, the spitting, the fucking, the aftercare, the uber, the walk of shame and the fucking hole that's keep growing deeper every time I come home to an empty house after giving my all to another looser because I can’t seem to attract he right one and I am too lonely to refuse anyone.

I am tired of feeling lonely . 

Future : Knight swords, Hermit 

I am hearing : ‘’ Omg he hears me ! Omg he knows my name’’ 

This one is a note but the intention behind it is almost like a prayer.

Please don't take him. Let him love me. Let him stay in my life. (Your eyes are burning with tears, none fell, you are holding on for dear life. You are sitting in your bedroom). I will do anything you ask. Don't let him resent. Let him love me forever. Don't let life take his warmth away from  me. I love every part of him, I love his tattoo, I love his grumpy attitude, I love the way he holds on to my hand. The way he always longs for some physical contact with me otherwise he loses his mind (bitter laugh, oh no… babe you broke … the tears are flowing slowly). I love the way he trust me with his Lego collection, with his car tools and on his bike. I love the way he let me in, my pretty boy, my very pretty boy, he don't deserve all that (Fuck … I finally got the vibe … he may have been in altercation or just an argument with his family which trigger him extremely which made him take its distance. Like you know he's in a dark place but he refuses to let you see him like that (aww now my heart is breaking … y’all going to make a cold ass bitch emotional, now he’s asking me if you are crying. He hates when you cry and it would put him in so much pain to know he is the reason for it). Usually he is transparent and you have amazing communication. That why you are ugly sobbing because it must be very bad, if he is taking his distance). He always comfort me when my periods hurt, when my mom say mean things to me, when school is too hard or life become to overwhelming. Even when I am trying to ignore him, he drop everything for me. I don't know what else to say … you must let him love me. Who else is going to look at me with so much love, caress me with so much passion, make love to me, worship my body with kisses, tell me how much he loves me and how hard is going to work so I never regret choosing him. 

Technically it's stop here …because you are sending him a voice note but since I love y’all let me add it here. I apologize because it might be too messy to read. 

Hiccup, hiccup, (his name), breathing trying to keep it in, breaking down in  tears, talking while having hiccups :  just so you know I love you. Please don't leave me behind, pretty boy. You remember what I told you … you ain't have to feel ashamed for what you did. Baby please come to me, we can work it all. Let me comfort you. 

Breakdown again:  Fuck I am stress. You better comeback (weak attempt to a bossy tone). Please (pleading tone). 

Before you came in the picture, your family enjoy reminding you how perfect it was. Than u came ... so maybe when your mom got pregnant their mirage could not handle it. Or you are a product of infidelity. Since you believe so heartily that you are the problem.

VIBES : Forbidden romance, one bed proximity, touch her and I will kill you, I want and see only her, I don't deserve her, she's too good for me, he's the only one that truly loves me and know me, we should not be doing this but can't seem to stay away from each other.

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PILE 4 

SONG : STAY - Adanna Duru FT Leven Kali

POV YOUR FS. 

I actually shuffled some cards but y’all nasty step dad came through. He's a fucking pervert Chérie d’Amour and I am so sorry you had to deal with this looser in your childhood. I am fucking sorry your mama did not protect you more. 

Your husband DONT PLAY WHEN  IT COMES TO YOU. 

Is a text after the first night spent together. 

Hey beautiful,

I know we just hang up and you probably sleeping rn. Fuck sure is 3 am in the morning but I cant get enough of you. I hate the fact that I can't dream because sleep is keeping me away from you. I want to spend every one of my seconds on earth dedicated to you. Texting you, calling you and hearing you. I am so obsessed with you girl … so you know we are lock in, lock in. There's nobody but us. I don't care if you're mad or tired of me, we are going to work this out. I see the bigger picture with you baby. That not the only picture I have of you… I love kissing you. When your lips lay on top of  mine, my eyes I can't help but close, pushing into a transit state of pure bliss. I love having sex with you, your moans are like  music to me. You have such a beautiful voice, I know I always compliment you about it. I guess you awakened a new kink in me babygirl.I  can recognize your voice, touch and scent in a room full of strangers because my soul knows you. My fav habits of yours when it comes to loving me … is the way you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheek and my lips in one setting just to make me smile. I love staring into your pretty face. That’s probably why I stare that much at my phone when u aint around. And she gets even prettier when I am thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. I love when you baby me, even though I am 6’4 (maybe taller) and 3x your weight. I love being the small spoon. I love being your good boy. I love finding safety in your arms. I aint joking girl … I am going nowhere. I LOVE IT HERE. 

VIBES: Commitment, marriage, long lasting romance, wedding day, husband and wife and growing old together 

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[pumpkinbxtch]

hi! I love your Apollo fics sm can I please request a fic we’re the reader is Percy’s older sister and she finds out there’s like a prophecy of her marrying Apollo and then like they eventually meet and fall and love and then what there marriage is like

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

— part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

☆ radiostar is playin': hot rod by dayglow...!

summary: There is a prophecy waiting for you to listen to it and although it may not be something you expect or consider possible. You know what they say about prophecies…they can't fail to come true.

warnings: none BUT long read, literally. got out of hand and i couldn't stop writing. that's bad? oh, fuck me, i'm sorry. a/n: i appreciate your request, thank you (although I think I changed it a little, sorry). HEAR ME OUT I feel like I owe a lot of love to those who love Apollo, so that's why I didn't entertain the idea of ​​making this long. Hope you like I know it's long, but I promise I did my best to make it bearable and fun, I swear. 😭

“The sea and the sun are not far away as they look…”

They told you to stay away from the attic of The Big House, but they never told you why.

“Only he can go up”, they said, and it seemed stupid to you because he was your younger brother; you were supposed to protect him.

“It's very dangerous”, they told you while Annabeth went up, even though you were a couple of years older than her.

“Only if you lead some quest, but…” but no, because as the years went by, they made sure to remind you of your place. They told you that you were powerful, smart, and capable, because, yes, you were Poseidon's firstborn, but not the chosen one. That was Percy, your brother. Did it hurt? Yes, as an older sister, you tend to aspire to greatness and be an example, but you didn't die; you got over it.

“What does it matter? Less work for me” you said as you watched your brother's back on all the missions. Anyway, you ended up stuck in his destiny.

“His destiny. But then, what's mine?” you wondered. Then, when you took a step near Rachel Dare's cave, they stopped you too.

“It's–”

“Dangerous.” You completed the familiar phrase with a look of disgust, avoiding Chiron's eyes. He just looked at you with pity, thinking to himself that if you went in there, you could cause more trouble for your father or Olympus… Or everyone; it would be a war among all the Olympians, something they didn't need with Titan Kronos already on their heels.

Dionysus gave you his typical mocking smile, the same one that made you want to grab the can of Diet Coke and throw it right at his disgusting Christmas-reindeer-red nose.

“It would be so interesting, but we don't need it,” he said as he dragged you away from Rachel with Chiron.

You weren't stupid, you knew there was some good reason. But damn, those fossils were sneaky and never let you get to your redheaded companion, who also avoided you like the plague. Between those two things, you never managed to achieve it. Even less so after you ended up fighting on the Argo II with your new friends, straight from real Greece.

Oh, man, if you had thought Kronos was a damn old grump, Gaea was an old ball-buster. You didn't even have time to think about your future when you didn't know if you had one.

After the second war is when you started to throw in the towel about the future. You realized that the last thing you wanted to know at that moment was whether you would have to fight against twelve more Titans, return to Tartarus, or travel to Alaska again.

New Rome became your new home, and you only waited for Percy to catch up with you along with everyone else. That is, until you returned home to pack new things and didn't find your brother studying just as he should be.

— Mom? — You asked when she came back from shopping.

She gave you that look, and you cursed.

— Relax, he'll be back in a while; he just went to drop off Apollo or well, now he's Lester because apparently he's no longer a god but Zeus…

— Wow. Wait, what?

As a hero of Olympus, touching, seeing, or talking to the gods was never impossible for you; in fact, it was much more usual for your taste, and although you had been through too much already, that was new. So, you found yourself immediately traveling to Long Island Sound on the back of a Pegasus, looking for your brother. You wouldn't let Apollo, Lester, or whatever he called himself now take your brother away to distract him with his godly stuff that surely wouldn't lead to anything good.

— Where's Percy?! — You shouted in the dining hall, making the campers flinch.

Chiron got up from his seat, and from there, he smiled at you, but it only put you in a worse mood.

— Dear, it's been a long journey. Please, sit and eat with us.

You lowered your head without taking your eyes off Chiron and tightened the dagger on your belt. There was no reason for it, you knew, but you couldn't help feeling that fury after knowing everything you had been through. Percy deserved a break.

— Where's my brother? — The pause between words made the campers squirm in their uncomfortable seats. They had heard about you, about everyone. to be exact, in the third lesson of history in their camp classes.

— He left Apollo and Meg in a field not far from here — Chiron decided to sit back down and began to spread the tablecloth nervously. — He probably should have already reached home while you were flying here.

You sighed, and as you relaxed your body, everyone seemed to feel relieved.

— He has exams, Chiron — He nodded, and you made your way to the table where he was.

— In fact, there are problems, and apparently, he promised to come back this weekend — Your eyebrows furrowed again, and Dionysus laughed.

— Girl, shouldn't you be in New Rome?

— I went home for a few more things, also taking the opportunity to see my family, and it turns out that my little brother was helping an ex god who can't fend for himself, risking his studies. — You replied without looking at him — And speaking of brothers, you should control yours, Mr. D.

The god of wine snorted, and you formed a mocking smile. — Insolent.

— Miss Jackson — Chiron intervened, and you softened your gaze toward him — You can stay tonight, you know you're welcome and after all, it's too late to travel on Pegasus.

You didn't argue with them; you'd never put your pegasus in danger. So, for the first time in a long time, you returned to your cabin, the same one you shared with Percy and Tyson for so many years, and you had to admit that you missed him. At dawn, you were preparing to travel, and you left at the moment you thought no one was watching you, how wrong you were because a few meters away, Apollo was hidden behind the cabin piles, admiring you from afar.

— She… — He felt his heart tighten, and his gaze unfocused. He cursed his mortal body for how weak it was.

— Pervert! — Meg shouted, alerting the other campers who turned confused, and Apollo blushed.

— Shut up, I'm not a pervert — He smiled exaggeratedly at the others, pretending a smile and letting them know that everything was fine.

— You saw her — Said a voice behind him once Meg was far enough away to hear. The brunette turned and smiled sheepishly.

— For a second — Apollo replied, avoiding his old friend's gaze; embarrassment nibbled at his body, and it became evident once his cheeks glowed.

Chiron had never seen him… like that, so young, embarrassed, and notably imperfect, but despite Apollo's opinions about his recent change, he thought it suited him well, even found it amusing.

— You remember…

— I remember it well, Chiron — Apollo blushed even more — That's why I didn't approach her; dealing with my father's wrath is enough. Now I don't want to annoy Poseidon or I'll probably wake up dead on the lake shore tomorrow.

He played with the tips of his sneakers as buried them in the rocks on the floor; he looked like a scared little boy, but Chiron didn't judge him.

— I think you know what it means when she's around when you're close.

The ex god didn't want to pay attention, but he knew he was right.

— Although I remember who she is… there’s a problem. I don't remember how to avoid her…— Apollo's blue eyes looked directly at Chiron's, and the urgency on his face told him he was telling the truth. — If I don't know now, it's going to be harder; all I can do is hide if she's near.

— We've lasted many years with this circus, and as much as I respect the lord of the seas, I don't think this will last long. And you know what's more stubborn than a son of the sea god?

— The sea god — Apollo raised his eyebrows in annoyance, and Chiron resisted rolling his eyes.

— Fate, Apollo. You know it well, things are written. The prophecy is still there; it exists, and all we've done is delay the inevitable.

The brunette nodded with annoyance and waved his hand dismissively.

Although he wanted to pretend that he didn't care, the anxiety of what was to come ate at him. He knew very well that it wouldn't take long for you to discover what all these years had been hidden from you. If Apollo reflected better on that, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue keeping it to himself, either, 'cause those years had been torture for him. Yeah, he knew that you weren't yet mature enough for your mind to be stained with the weight of a prophecy that, unlike the others, not had to do with some quest or some imminent danger that threatened the entire world; but now you are in college, he couldn't wait for you to know.

The thing was, your father thought that the one who could be in danger was you, his precious daughter since Apollo was selfish, arrogant, and immature to have been around for eons. Poseidon could not fully explain the reason The Fates had woven such a destiny for you. So, until things had and could happen at the right time, in the right way, he warned Apollo to be close to you and he knew so well that be such an idiot idea to make him angry.

Before his thoughts could swallow him, Apollo shake them off and sigh to Chiron.

— Right now, I have a bigger problem. I think we've found something.

— Where?

— Here — Chiron frowned, and Apollo looked towards the camp's forest. — My dear friend, you have the Grove of Dodona here, in your playground.

Apollo didn't know that of all the decisions he had made in his life, avoid you was the best one he could make, because even if you had met that day or before, with the things that were about to happen to him, he wouldn't come back as half the man he was.

“Things at the moment, in time” the fates whispered in some place.

[fantazygirl-blog1]

So tired of everyone (or almost everyone) making Misa into a kind, weak little victim, manipulated by Light.

That woman may seem sweet, but she's absolutely ruthless. She's selfish, obsessive, stalkerish and emotionally abusive (perhaps not in the traditional way but I will explain)

Way before she even met Light, she managed to kill law enforcement (which might I add, she probably didn't even know was law enforcement) and news reporters just to prove a point. They were just a means to an end to her. She wanted to thank Kira for killing her parent's murderer, but she didn't even stop to think once if the people she killed had families of their own, children of their own. She only had one goal: what she herself, wanted. More than that, Misa literally offered to immediately off her friend, that helped her with the tapes (and if someone offers to help you with that, they're a very close friend for sure) and it wasn't even Light's suggestion. It was all Misa, who saw killing her friend as a way to get Light to trust her. It's clear that girl is willing to kill anyone and anything if it'll help her achieve her goals.

Also, she's super obsessive. My girl traded half her lifespan with no hesitation on the off chance that she might be able to meet Kira. (Yes, she had a plan but there was no guarantee that her plan would even work)And the instant she saw Light, she started stalking him (even though she herself had problems with stalkers) to the point that she just turned up at his house with no warning. Imagine if a stranger just shows up at your house like that, pretending to be a friend and your mom lets them in. That's fucking horrifying.

Also, Misa barely knew Light for like a few seconds and she decided that he was going to be her boyfriend, and NOTHING was going to stay in her way, not even Light himself. She pressured him into being in a relationship with her, even though it was clearly unwanted, Rem literally threatened to kill him if he refused, and then she had the gall to tell Light she would kill any girl she suspected would go out with Light if she saw her with him. This is where the emotional abuse comes from (even though I dunno if I should call it that but I don't know how else to classify it). Misa doesn't really consider Light a person. For her, Light is more like a doll she can project her feelings on. She attributed him emotions according to her whims and acted like those were the reality regardless of Light's real feelings. She made herself the main character in his story, even after told and shown repeatedly tha she wasn't and got mad when years later she was still neglected and barely paid attention to.

I'm not saying all this to hate on Misa and this in no way a Kira appreciation post (my favorite Light is Yotsuba arc Light, I hate Kira tbh) but I'm just saying, if you're a Misa fan you should be able to accept the reality: she's not a weak, sweet little girl, manipulated by evil Light. She's capable of all the horrible things she does all on her own thank you very much and I'm tired of reading fics where Misa is treated like only a victim and given leniency while Light is treated as the only true monster.

I'm just saying, the girl didn't need a boyfriend, she needed a therapist. Badly.

[z0mb0ysworld]

I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover(girl), man.

Jackie Taylor x GN!Reader

Angst with some fluff.

NOTES: This is my first fic. Sorry if the grammar or format is terrible. Yes I did steal a quote from HTTYD. Sue me.

You hated her. You hated her so much. A lie that you told yourself every day and you knew it was a lie. You hated how she came into your life and made things enjoyable before leaving. That’s it. You hated that she left. You knew you could never hate Jackie Taylor. You just missed her so much. You remember the day that the soccer loving girl came into your life and left a big indent.

You could admit you were never a “glass half full” person. You saw things how they were and maybe, just maybe, you were a little dramatic. But, could you blame yourself? Your mom split the gig when you were young. “A free spirit” is what your dad said she was with a sad smile on his face as he held your little body close to him. Since then you realized that no one stays. You were in high school now though and soon it was your turn to leave. It was a normal day in class when you felt someone sit next to you. Weird. No one sat in the seat next to you. You looked up to see popular girl and girl’s soccer captain Jackie Taylor. Jackie Taylor who has also been your crush since freshman year. Jackie Taylor who you swore you thought was the only constant in your life. She smiled and looked at you with those eyes you swore made your heart stop, “There’s a project and we are supposed to pick a partner. Everybody else seems paired up. Will you be my partner?” Did you really zone out that much? You felt your head move before your mouth, nodding. You saw her eyes light up and she began talking to you again, “So I was thi-” The rest of the class went by in a blur but you could swear you agreed to go to her house later at some point. Jackie smiled again at you as she packed up her things, “Okay. See you at my house after school!” Alright.Yep.You did. Great. 

You rubbed the piece of paper that Jackie had given you as she left class. Her address. You looked at the house as you got out of your truck. Fancy. You walked up to the door and knocked on it. The door swung open and Jackie stood there in shorts and a tank top. You tried your best not to stare at the way she looked.. human. Not like the popular girl that everyone adored. She excitedly invited you in and led you to her bedroom. You looked gazed at the walls as you went up the stairs. Jackie looked like she had the perfect family from what it seemed on the photos. You followed her into her room as she sat on the bed. You closed the door behind you as per her order. She patted the spot next to her and you sat down. God. This girl can ask you to jump and you’d say “how high.” You went to take your notebook out of your bag but a hand on your arm stopped you.

 She smiled and you could feel your stomach do flips, “Hey.. We got like a week to work on it. Let’s talk. You are so mysterious. I wanna know what goes on inside that head.” 

You let out a small chuckle and you could swear you hung the stars by the way she looked at you, “I’m mysterious, huh? You’ve been watching me or something, Taylor?” By the blush on Jackie’s face and the way she refused to look at you, you guessed you caught her. 

She nodded, “I mean how could I not? You are always so quiet even if the world around you is loud. You walk through crowds like there is no one around you. I think that has been the first time I’ve heard you talk or laugh besides earlier in class. To be honest, I’ve never really wanted to know a person more.” 

You shrugged at her words, but on the inside it felt like your body was on fire. She watched you that much? She paid attention? Does it matter though? You reminded yourself that nobody stays. She’ll leave too. But maybe- just maybe. Maybe she won’t. You took a deep breath. Let’s see.

Jackie had just won the game for her team. She was going to national’s and you couldn’t be more proud of her. You guys have been together for a year now and to say you loved her would be an understatement. Jackie has remained the light in your life. The one thing that you knew couldn’t be taken away. She made sure to remind you. Nights of curling up and her holding you as you sobbed. Her quiet whispers of “I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.” solidified that. By the time you were at the sidelines, Jackie had already run up to you and jumped into your awaiting arms. You smiled wide and kissed her cheek as you spun the two of you. You laughed, “Congratulations, my love. You did it! You’re going to nationals! I’m so fucking proud of you, lovergirl.” You set her down and she looked at you with the same look she did a year ago, like you hung the stars in the sky. Jackie pulled you into a kiss that was full of sweetness and passion. It was her in a nutshell. She pulled away, “You’ll be there too, right? At nationals? I can’t do this without my cheerleader.” You smiled and knew what the answer was already. You would follow her until the end of time. Your lovergirl.

Jackie left. She fucking left. She lied. She lied. She lied. She lied. You hated her so much. She left the cabin. She left you here alone. She’s dead. She lied. You held your head in your hands and sobbed. Your whole body shook with the force of your sobs. If you had been there, you could have done something. Anything. You decided to check the traps before bed and camped out in the wilderness. Luckily, the overnight snowfall didn’t snuff out the fire in the little cave you camped in. When you got closer to camp is when you heard Shauna’s sobs. In the mix of the crying, you heard Jackie’s name. Jackie. What happened to Jackie. You ran faster than ever. When you got to the cabin and saw Shauna shaking a frozen Jackie, you stopped in your tracks.  You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. Hell, even a word would have done good.You felt like a little kid again when your mom left, but this time there wasn’t your dad to hold you. Would he have said the same thing about Jackie? The lie about her being a “free spirit?” That didn’t matter now. You just stared and realized your lovergirl was gone.

No one could replace Jackie is what you told yourself even years later when the surviving members of the YellowJackets got rescued. Including you. Your lovergirl was one-of-a-kind. The only one for you. But, she is gone now and you were alone. You took a long sip of the beer in your hand as you sat on your couch in your apartment. The rest of them moved on with their lives. You moved on too. Well as good as you could. Inside, you knew you were back there. In her bedroom with her. Your lovergirl. You stared at yourself in the blank TV screen. You moved your head to the left and there she sat. Your lovergirl. You knew it wasn’t her. She was gone because she lied. She stared back at you with that look from all those years ago, “Baby, I thought we were gonna drop that mysterious act. It took me so long to find that personality you hid from everyone..” You smiled and just stared at her. Even if it wasn’t her. You sighed, “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you..” She smiled and you felt like a teenager again. You looked back at the TV screen and it was just you. Only you. Your lovergirl was gone.

[cozzzynook]

Adding onto Earthspark Prowlbee since its so rare

As the weeks went on Bumblebee couldn't help but feel content all the stress of being a mentor to the Terrans or what ever plan Optimus had to try and get them back home, none of that mattered when ever he was by Prowl's side. Said mech was currently recharging next to Bee with a peaceful expression on his face while softly snoring.

Despite wanting to stay in berth a little longer and snuggle, Bumblebee had some early morning chores to do. With a quick huff the yellow mech hoped off the berth and made his way out the hab and into the main hallway. After a couple of sleepy steps Bee found himself inside the mess hall while sluggishly grabbing a cube of fuel before sitting down at a table. Despite the lack of stress Bee still felt horrible due to early mornings however today was a little worse .

"Up already?" Elita hummed as she took a sip from her cube. "Did Prime want you to scout out another old base, again?"

Bumblebee gave a warm smile as he greeted Elita. "No, I wanted to take an early drive before heading to the Malto's farm. The Tarrens wanted me to take them exploring"

"That sounds fun" Elita smiled warmly before narrowing her optics for a moment. A soft hum rumbled in her chest as she studied Bumblebee a little closer. "Though I should think you should head to the bay first before you leave"

"Huh, why do you say that?" Puzzled the yellow mech raised a brow while one door wing flicked uncommittable.

Giving her best 'Mom Glare' the Terrens would put it, Elita would gently press her free servo onto Bee's helm checking the mech's temperature. "You just seem off today, but you're not warm or cold so that rules out a virus"

"Greeaaat" Bee rolled his optics as he finished off his cube "I'll quickly stop by but I don't feel too 'off' "

"I mean it Bumblebee, I know very well how much you and Prime like to try and avoid your mandatory health checks"

Letting out a nervous chuckle Bumblebee quickly got his pedes and made his way to the bay, the sooner he got this over with the sooner he can get Elita off his back.

Prowl woke from recharge to the sound of his comm going off, with a groggy sigh he sat up and answered with a sleepy sigh. "Who is it?"

"Prowler... uhm sorry to wake you up" On the other side of the line soft shaky vents escaped from Bumblebee's voice. "I-I really need to tell you something..."

Snapping to his senses, Prowl was already halfway out of the berth and was only mere seconds away from running out of the hab. "What's wrong?"

"I'll be blunt with you..." Another sigh "I may or may not be sparked" For a few long minutes the comm line was silent already adding to the amounting anxiety Bee was already feeling. Flicking his door wings Bumblebee checked the line's connection before speaking. "Prowl, you there?"

Without warning the med bay door swung opened quickly followed by a very panicked Prowl rushing to the yellow mech's side. "Are you serious? Are you really sparked?" Gentle servos quickly found themselves pulling Bee closer to his frame.

"Yeah, I mean the sparkling is only the size of a ping-pong ball right now but yes I'm sparked" A soft chuckle found itself escaping Bumblebee as he softly gazed up at Prowl.

"And I thought we were going to take things slow at first" Prowl joked as he already began to place little kisses on Bee's cheek and helm. "Does anyone else know?"

Bee shook his helm before leaning up to place his own kisses. "No just you right now and Wheeljack" A soft hum rumbled in his chest as he felt servos carefully pet his door wings.

"Good, I just want it to be us right now and not have Optimus venting down my neck more than he already is" Another short chuckle followed after as Prowl continued to lazily pet his mech-friend's door wings. The threat of falling back into recharge was slowly getting closer as soft purrs escaped them both. "Want me to cover your shift, little Bee?"

"Mm, Sure. I'd doubt Jackie will let me leave the base anyway, not until he's given me the all clear" Lazily smiling Bumblebee pulled away from the hug only to place a gentle peck on his partner's nose. "And please don't be too aloof with the Tarrens, they can and will come up with every possible theory to why you act like that"

"Hehe, I promise"

"Love you, Prowler"

"And I love you too, Little Bee"

Kfkfoaoofjfowo AAHHHH I LOVE THIS!!!!!

[a-power-outlet]

thing abt my interpretation of hank and norm (with a dash of lucy)

plz feel free to comment on it if you want, but this is usually how i think of it when i'm writing their dynamic. i'm gonna kinda go step by step through ep 1 + beyond commenting on things i noticed.

it's all under the cut bc i yapped too much lmaooo. i love dissecting family dynamics, but also plz feel free to comment on this if u want.

i think like, yes, they don't fully get along. and norm is often seen as lesser compared to his sister. and hank does likely compare norm to lucy all the time, leading to some resentment within norm. norm clearly does love his dad, though, since he's staring at the photo of him on that balcony. norm misses hank, even if he does get mad whenever he's compared to lucy.

but, i still think hank loves him, which is important!! he teases norm during the wedding dance scene, and he hugs him tightly when they're dancing. it's one of my favorite gifs (it's funny as fuck to me) because hank ruffles his hair and norm puts it back. norm could easily walk away, but he stays because it's his dad, and they do care about each other. or at the very least put up with each other.

there is an argument to be had that norm sticks around hank for appearance sake. but norm doesn't seem like the type to go along with things he doesn't really want to do. so i'm not sure about that.

norm's willingly being a bit of a prick in episode one too. he's not helping set up, he's trying to tease lucy (and probably stress her out) like siblings do. hank is stern during this, yes, because norm is being stubborn. they're both being shits tbh. norm moreso. and i don't blame hank for being like. son please stop stressing out your sister who is getting married today.

i love norm being a little shit. i think he deserves to be a little shit more. he keeps this trait up when he antagonizes chet for being a coward and i fucking love him for it. my baby boy you are such an asshole when you're upset i love you.

they're all playful with each other, at least a little bit. but i think a key thing is that norm willingly is a little shit to his family (possibly for attention? possibly because it's against the grain and he enjoys it?). he comes to regret it in later episodes, since i think he sincerely misses his family and wishes that his last interactions with them weren't traumatic, for one, as well as annoyed. because he was ANNOYING THEM!!

imo, hank says that lucy's the future (i forget the exact line at the wedding...) because lucy's getting married! i too was like. wow why no norm. but norm's not getting married and isn't about to reproduce. at my aunt's wedding my grandfather didn't mention my mom, or her sisters. just my aunt! maybe it differs depending on people, but i mean. it is lucy's wedding. so i don't really see much there.

lucy putting norm into the storage box thing because she loves him and knows he isn't a fighter. knows he's traumatized by almost being killed. so she keeps him safe. ugh. i love their dynamic a lot. anyways-

i think the "you're my world" line is interesting... like, what about norm? but, before then, when hank and lucy run towards the door, we don't know what they're saying. i am going to choose to believe that hank cares about his son enough to ask lucy where he is. hank doesn't have to be like "you and norm are my world" because norm's not there, and he knows norm is safe already. he cares about norm, but it was lucy's wedding and lucy's there with him and moldaver. (and she's also the main character...) it is weird that lucy never mentions him outside of the vault setting but tbh the writers had a VERY limited timeframe/number of episodes to get their story across so i don't really pay it much mind.

hank in the vault tries to be as kind as possible . the vault values good deeds. if he treated norm super poorly, i don't think people would keep electing him as overseer. they'd elect betty, probably, since hank is now a big red flag. i don't think norm would be the type to hide if he was being affected severely by his dad. and there's only like 100 ish people in the vault anyways, someone would catch on.

there is the argument that the rest of the vault doesn't care if norm's being lectured by hank, or if hank is being stern on him to get him to comply, because the rest of the vault doesn't really care about norm as a person. i think people do care about norm and what norm says. the vault values good deeds, as wilzig said, and so i think inherently they are all caring people. if they had empathy for the raiders who killed some of their own, they'll have empathy for norm!!! so i don't really think hank is super hard on norm, at least not until after season 1.

i could imagine hank in his current state yelling at norm. saying he's a failure, and just wanted him to go along with what everyone else does. that he wanted norm to comply. that he wasn't supposed to break all those rules. but i don't think that'd really happen pre-season 1. norm was a little weird, but hank still cared about him. however i do want to see their current iterations interact it'd be angsty as fuck.

he's strict on norm, yea, because he has a super rigid worldview of how norm can act. norm must get a good job in the vault, and norm must love it. norm must find a woman and have children and continue the legacy of the macleans. norm's the one who would keep the surname. norm is the heir to the maclean name. so, norm does need to eventually step up and at least procreate. he'll probably get "randomly selected" for the triennial trade.

but i don't think hank hates him. hank is disappointed in him, but he LOVES HIM.

i think hank could be a little neglectful. he's a busy man, running a whole vault. but also, lucy seems very self motivated at all times. i feel like she'd latch onto the things she was taught in school and comply. norm never really did that, maybe the loss of his mother jaded him from the start. maybe he does remember the surface, just a little bit, and doesn't feel like he fits in. or, he's just naturally stubborn and doesn't want to follow what everyone else does.

whenever i'm writing them, i try to keep this all in mind. hank still cares about him, he cares about him significantly. they have personalities that just don't mesh. hank is interesting to me because he presents himself so... pathetically? like he can't hurt a fly? simultaneously, he's a strong leader that guides the vault well. and the people go crazy for it, the vault falls apart without him. but, ithink it could be a facade to make sure no one becomes suspicious of the things he's done. but he also believes he did the right thing!!! bringing norm and lucy back, to him, was the right thing, even if he had to kill his own wife. she wasn't his wife when she stole the kids. she was going to get them killed (in his mind).

and, i think he keeps this facade up in 33. he'd try to be the best dad possible so that people have the confidence that he's the best overseer possible. if his son wants to do nothing, then so be it! he's also got this rockstar daughter who likely gets more attention. he'd definitely try to push norm to a job he'll enjoy, and maybe do the cringe dad thing of trying to set norm up. he'd try to mold him into a gold dweller, but it's not like norm is devoid of good deeds. he's still liked in the community, so hank would consider it a win.

i don't think norm would mind that too much. he doesn't really get along with them too much anyways, they're too jovial for his liking. but they all love each other regardless! they let him sit at book club and play holotape games. they don't have to do the same things, but they at least can exist in the same space.

imo, norm's main mental conflicts are: 1. he wishes he wasn't mean/a coward to his family the last time he saw them 2. he wishes hank wasn't trying to mold him into a good vault dweller (i.e. getting a constant job and stuff).

i'm up for commentary on this because i know there are different perspectives but i just. idk. as someone with a rough relationship with my dad, i relate to norm but i can tell that there's still familial love there yknow?

really want more norm and lucy interactions in season 2, or maybe more norm and hank interactions? this could all be proven wrong the next time they interact but i just rly enjoy dissecting family dynamics.

ALSO i'm not a hank apologist 😭😭😭 he's an evil man but i think there's a lot of nuance to his character, especially when i'm writing him in the vault setting.

[nadinebrooks-sides]

Here is the link to my masterlist.

Hannibal Lecter: That was Impulsive

Will’s house was always quiet, aside from the occasional bark or the patter of paws on his hardwoods. The fireplace crackled low in the background as (y/n) stretched out on the couch. It was fall and the leaves had finally started to change colors. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow through the living room. 

(y/n) was stretched out on the couch, wearing one of Will’s old oversized flannels. It was faded and soft; it had probably seen better days, but (y/n) always asked Will if she could go through his clothes before he donated them. It smelled just like Will, cedarwood soap and the outdoors. 

Beetle, the laziest of Will’s dogs, rested his head on (y/n)’s lap while the others dozed around the room.  She let her fingers drift through his fur, lost in the book she was currently reading and occasionally glanced up at whatever reality tv show was playing on the tv. 

The doorbell was unexpected.

She blinked, set the book down, and stood. None of the dogs barked, which was odd for them. That meant they knew whoever was at the door. (y/n) gently tugged the flannel down just a little bit trying to cover more of her thighs, but it didn’t work. Hopefully whoever was out there didn’t want much. She padded toward the door and opened it cautiously. 

The man standing on the other side of the threshold was not what she was expecting. 

He was tall, composed, and dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit. The very definition of elegant. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his expression was calm but inquisitive. (y/n) recognized him instantly. 

“You must be Dr. Lecter.” 

He tilted his head with a faint smile. “I am. And you must be … the dog sitter?” 

“That’s me,” (y/n) said, stepping aside. “If you’re looking for Will, he isn’t here right now. He’s teaching his night class at the Academy. But you’re welcome to come in and wait if you want. I’m not sure how long he’ll be, sometimes he likes to stay and grade papers.”

Hannibal stepped inside with a polite nod. “Thank you. I hope I’m not intruding.” 

“Hardly,” (y/n) said gesturing toward the couch where she had been sitting moments before. “You’re just interrupting my thrilling evening of dogs and fantasy novels.”

He glanced around the living room, his sharp eyes scanning the fireplace, the scattered dog toys, (y/n)’s long legs, and the half-finished mug of tea on the coffee table. “It’s cozier than I imagined.” 

“I’ve added some flair,” (y/n) joked, gesturing to the throw blankets, rug, and photos of her and Will that were scattered across the room. She flopped back into the armchair across from Hannibal. “Will doesn’t believe in anything that isn’t brown or beige. I bring the chaos.”

A soft chuckle left Hannibal. “Yes, I can imagine. You seem … different from him.”

“Oh, I’m his worst nightmare,” (y/n) giggled brightly. “Too loud, too nosy, too curious. But the dogs like me, and that’s really the only vote that counts.” 

He looked down at the shepherd that had curled up at her feet. “And how does Will tolerate that?”

(y/n) raised an eyebrow. “Honestly? I think he enjoys having someone around who doesn’t tiptoe. We’ve known each other forever. Our moms were best friends and we were practically raised together. He sat behind me in anatomy in high school and he was always correcting my lab notes. We bickered then, we bicker now.” 

“You two aren’t romantically involved.”

“Hell no,” (y/n) snorted. “We argue like siblings. I think he’d rather walk on glass for a mile than date me.” 

“Fascinating,” Hannibal said, and though it was a simple word, it felt weighted. Like he was cataloging something.

(y/n) glanced over at him, studying him for a moment before saying, “Will talks about you, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Not in great detail, but I can tell he trusts you. I think that says a lot. He doesn’t … open up easily.” 

Hannibal’s smile turned thoughtful. “No. He doesn’t. But he opens to animals. And apparently, to you.”

“He didn’t have a choice with me.” (y/n) shrugged. “We were going to be close whether he wanted to or not. Besides, we know too many embarrassing things about each other to not trust the other.” 

There was a comfortable pause, the fireplace filling the silence between Hannibal and (y/n). He leaned back slightly, one arm resting over the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down the flannel that (y/n) was wearing.

“You wear his clothes?”

“I swear it’s not a weird thing. I don’t do it that often. They’re softer than anything I own.”

“I see,” he said, his smile widening slightly. “And do you often spend your evenings like this? Dog sitting, reading, and stealing Will’s clothes?”

“Pretty much,” (y/n) said grinning back at Hannibal. “Hey, it’s cheaper than therapy.”

“That it is.” Hannibal agreed. 

Later in the week, Will arrived for his weekly therapy appointment with Dr. Lecter.

“I had an unexpected guest the other night,” Will said, his voice clipped as he poured himself tea in the doctor’s office.

Hannibal folded his hands. “Did you?”

“You showed up at my house while I was gone.” 

“Indeed. I was simply in the area. Your dog sitter was very gracious. However, now that I’m saying that out loud, she seemed to hold more weight in your life than just a dog sitter.” 

Will didn’t respond right away. He stared at his tea like it might offer answers.

“She’s … protective,” he said firmly. “Been that way ever since we were kids. She bit this kid for bullying me back when we were in elementary school. He had to get stitches. Typically she gives people the benefit of the doubt, until they give her a reason not to.” 

“Trust is a fragile thing,” Hannibal replied. “Has someone broken hers?” 

Will looked up, sharp-eyed. “She got cheated on and hasn’t dated in a while. It was pretty bad. Hasn’t let anyone in since.”

“And yet, she lets you in.”

“She didn’t have a choice with me,” Will said, repeating the words that (y/n) had told Hannibal a couple of days ago. “Besides, it’s different with us.”

“Is it?”

He didn’t respond.

Hannibal steepled his fingers. “You’re rather protective of her, Will.” 

“She’s my friend. A good one. She’s been through a lot, and I don’t want to see her get hurt.” 

“Of course,” Hannibal said smoothly, though something simmered behind his gaze. “Your concern is admirable.” 

Will narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?” 

Hannibal’s expression remained neutral, but the corner of his mouth curved. “Merely curious.” 

The following week, (y/n) was in the middle of attempting to make a grilled cheese at Will’s cabin when there was a knock at the door. 

The dogs stirred-two of them already barking- and she wiped her hands on Will’s pajama pants and headed for the front door. 

“Relax guys,” she muttered to the chorus of barking. “Maybe it’s a package or the neighbors or-”

(y/n) opened the door and blinked.

Hannibal stood there again, dressed impeccable in a deep burgundy jacket, a patterned tie tucked neatly beneath a buttoned vest. He held a modest paper bag in one hand. 

She blinked, not sure why he was here, not that she was complaining. “Uh…hey.” 

“Good afternoon,” he greeted warmly. “I hope I’m not intruding. I was nearby and thought to drop this off for Will. A tart I made earlier.”

Her gaze flicked to the bag. “Tart, huh? Very specific. Is it poisoned?” 

His dark brows lifted in amusement. “Only with butter and good intentions.” 

She grinned, stepping aside to let Hannibal in. “Well, in that case, come on in. He’s out again - said something about stopping by the lab. You have impeccable timing.”

He walked in smoothly, placing the paper bag on the kitchen island. “I’ve been told I’m excellent at timing.”

(y/n) tried not to read too much into that and returned to the pan, flipping to reveal a very impressive grilled cheese. “You know, if you keep showing up like this, people are going to think we’re friends.” 

“I was hoping we might become so.” he said mildly, leaning against the kitchen counter as though he belonged there.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who collects chatty, chaotic women as friends.” 

Hannibal chuckled, “You’re far more thoughtful than you pretend to be. Will has mentioned that.” 

“Has he?” she asked, more curious than embarrassed. 

“Yes. He speaks fondly of you. He also mentioned your … aversion to dating.” 

She paused, eyes narrowing playfully. “So now you’re using my tragic love life as small talk?”

“I apologize if it’s too forward. It was simply a topic that intrigued me. I find myself curious about you.” 

(y/n) slid the grilled cheese onto a plate and turned to face him, crossing her arms. “You’re a psychiatrist, Hannibal. Are you always this charming when you’re analyzing people?” 

He tilted his head. “Not always. But you don’t seem offended.” 

“No,” she admitted, picking up her sandwich. “I’ve been through worse than a well dressed man asking about my love life.” 

There was silence as he watched (y/n) eat, and it didn’t feel awkward for once. She was used to quiet, especially around Will, but Hannibal’s version was intentional. 

“You have a strange effect on Will,” he said after a moment. 

She raised a brow. “How so?” 

“He’s possessive, but not in a romantic way. More protective like a brother. Yet I sense he doesn’t quite know what to do with you.” 

(y/n) laughed, mouth full. “That’s mutual. He’s like a socially anxious cryptid, and I just kind of hang around because the dogs like me.” 

Hannibal smiled. “And you’ve never considered being more than friends?”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “Never. Will’s complicated, and I’m a little messy. Plus, we bicker constantly. I love him, but not like that.” 

He seemed pleased with that answer.

She leaned against the counter, sandwich in hand, and eyed him carefully. “Is this just curiosity, Hannibal? Or are you here for another reason?” 

He paused, considering. “I find your energy … refreshing. Your warmth is rare in Will’s life. You’re genuine with him. With the dogs. With me.” 

“You better be careful Hannibal,” her eyes widened slightly. “It almost sounds like you’re flirting.”

“Would it be so terrible if I was?” 

(y/n) took a bit of grilled cheese to avoid answering. When she finally swallowed, she looked him square in the eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be the scary one.” 

“I can be,” he said, his voice soft. “But I’d rather not be with you.” 

The air thickened just a little. Not in a threatening way - but in a way that made her suddenly aware of how close he stood, how much taller he was, how his voice made her skin buzz and didn’t quite know what to say to that.

Before (y/n) could respond, Will’s familiar footsteps approached from the porch, and the door creaked open. 

“Hey (y/n), I’m back,” he called - then stopped when he spotted the scene. (y/n). Hannibal. The half eaten sandwich in her hand and his psychiatrist standing just a bit too close.

Will’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. 

“Your friend brought over a pie.” (y/n) smiled at him hoping that he wasn’t as upset as he looked.

“Tart,” Hannibal corrected, with a smile.

“Of course he did.” Will’s jaw ticked. 

She gave Will a look that said don’t be weird, but he ignored it. His eyes flicked to her outfit, his pajama pants and one of his old college T-shirts. Now (y/n) could tell that he was looking for something else to be annoyed with. 

“Comfortable, are we?” he muttered.

“Don’t be an asshole. It’s not like you wear this.” She shot back.

Will finally turned his attention to Hannibal. “You didn’t tell me you were coming by.” 

“It was an impromptu visit,” Hannibal replied smoothly, lifting the bag. “I’ll leave the tart in the kitchen.” 

(y/n) watched Will watch Hannibal, and then she watched as Will looked at her, and something shifted behind his eyes. It wasn’t jealousy. It was something else. Something older. Like the realization that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t his person anymore - even in the platonic sense. 

And that realization didn’t sit well with him. 

(y/n) excused herself to let the dogs out in the backyard, giving the two men space. She was hyper aware of the tension simmering behind her as she walked away. Will’s eyes tracked her the whole time, and Hannibal watched him.

The moment the door clicked shut, a heavy silence fell between them.

“She’s a remarkable woman,” Hannibal said, smoothing his sleeves.

Will crossed his arms. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Hannibal asked mildly, though the glint in his eyes was deliberate. “I haven't done anything.” 

“That’s what worries me,” Will muttered.

There was a pause. Hannibal glanced toward the door, then back at Will. “You care for her.” 

“She’s important to me,” Will said, voice taut. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I know her better than more people ever will.” 

“I believe you,” Hannibal replied calmly. “Which is why I’d like your blessing to ask her out.”

Will’s whole body twitched. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” he replied, hands clasped in front of him. “She’s clever, open-hearted, and despite her outward charm, quite guarded when it comes to trust. I respect that. And I believe I could offer her something sincere.” 

Will stared at him for a long moment, eyes dark. “You don’t do sincere, Hannibal.” 

He inclined his head. “I do, on rare occasions.” 

Silence stretched again. Will exhaled sharply and shook his head, running a hand through his curls. 

“She’s been through enough,” he said, voice low. “If you screw with her or if you hurt her, even accidentally - ”

“I won’t.” 

Will stepped forward, suddenly and sharply, and his voice dropped into something dangerously close to a growl. “I mean it, Lecter. She’s not a project. She’s not a puzzle. If you so much as make her doubt herself again, I’ll find you.” 

Hannibal’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes glinted - something amused, or perhaps appreciative. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said smoothly. “And I give you my word, Will. I will treat her with the care and honesty she deserves.” 

“God help you if you don’t.” Will let out a long breath through his nose.

Just then, the back door creaked again. (y/n) stepped in with a smile and a wagging retriever at her heels. 

“Did I miss anything?” She asked, grabbing the last bit of grilled cheese from the plate.

Will glanced at Hannibal, who offered a faint smile. 

“Not at all,” Hannibal said, gaze softening as it landed on her. “We were just discussing dinner.” 

“Oh?” (y/n) blinked. “Are you staying?” 

“If you’ll have me,” Hannibal replied, voice velvet smooth. 

“Only if you help with the dishes.” 

Behind the two of them, Will sighed into his hands.

Dinner was warm in the way few things ever were in Will Graham’s house - cluttered with lazy dogs beneath the table, plates scraped clean, and conversation that flowed easier than expected. Hannibal offered to dry while (y/n) washed, which earned him a baffled look from Will and a smile from her.

Eventually, Will excused himself to his room with a grumble about early lectures and too many German Shepard hogging his blankets. (y/n) rolled her eyes, throwing a dish towel at him as he disappeared down the hall. 

Now, the porch light buzzed quietly overhead as she walked Hannibal out into the crisp Virginia evening. His car gleamed under the dim glow, and the silence between the two of them stretched into a comfortable way.

“Thank you for coming by,” she said, hugging her arms against the cool air. “You’re not exactly what I expected.” 

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, pausing beside the driver’s door. 

(y/n) laughed softly. “It’s … something.” 

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the trees in Will’s yard. She tilted her head up to meet Hannibal’s gaze, his eyes calm and unreadable in the low light.

And before she could stop herself, before she even thought about stopping herself, she stood on her tippy toes and pressed her lips to his.

Just a soft kiss. Barely a whisper of contact. But when she pulled away, Hannibal didn’t move. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, stepping back. “That was … I promise I don’t usually do things like that. That was impulsive. It won’t happen again.” 

Hannibal studied her for a beat too long. “Why not?” 

She blinked. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing. Because you’re intimidating. Because Will would probably kill you if he found out what just happened even though I kissed you.”

“All fair reasons,” Hannibal replied thoughtfully. “But none of that persuades me.” 

“Of course not.” She huffed a light, eyes darting down the driveway.

“I find your impulsiveness charming,” he said taking a small step forward - not close enough to crowd her, but just enough to feel the gravity of him again. “And I’d like to see you again. Properly.” 

She tilted her head, searching his expression. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

“Even after that weird little kiss and awkward apology?”

“Especially after that.” 

“This feels like a bad idea.” She bit her lip, considering. 

Many of the best things in life do,” Hannibal replied smoothly.

The corners of her mouth turned up despite herself. “Only if I get to choose where we eat. And it better not be anything with a wine list longer than the menu.”

“I’ll allow it,” he said with a faint smile.

(y/n) nodded before heading back toward the front door. She passed and then glanced back over her shoulder, “Hey, Hannibal?” 

“Yes?”

“That kiss? It might;ve been impulsive … but I didn’t hate it.” 

His smile deepened, just barely.

“Neither did I.” 

And with that, she disappeared inside, heart beating faster than she’d ever admit - even to Will.

[ar4chn333]

“I Just Got You Back”

Michael Bluth x fem reader

Summary:

You and Michael shared your chaotic childhoods as best friends until your father moves your family away, devastating both of you. Twelve years later, you reunite. Convincing Michael to take the day off work, you revisit old memories…and make some spicy new ones. (2,473 words)

Contents:

Pörn with plot, p in v, praise, f!ngering, kinda tooth-rotty ngl, friends to lovers, x fem reader

Waiting anxiously a few feet from the door, you quickly fix your hair, pushing it behind your ear. Your mother steps ahead of you, giving the door three knocks before stepping back by your side.

“Let’s hope Lucielle has wine,” she chirps.

“Please,” you chuckle softly, careful not to be heard through the door. “If there’s one thing I remember about Lucielle, it’s the attitude–and the alcohol.”

“Amen,” your mom smiles in your direction, raising her eyebrows in anticipation, clearly excited to see her friend of over 40 years. Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Lucille. She was quite harsh and you remember her outright insulting you as a child but you didn’t mind if it meant you got to see Michael. The two of you spent long, hot summers in the Bluth banana stand, teasing each other, commiserating, and of course, half-assedly selling frozen bananas. You jump a little when the door to the model home swings open and out pops Lucielle who promptly hugs your mother then does the same to you.

“Got rid of that deadbeat husband, I see Jennifer?” Lucielle blurts.

“You should have seen the divorce party,” your mom retorts, giggling.

Lucille motions you two inside, making a bee-line into the kitchen to pour another drink. “You’re old enough to drink now, right?” she asks you. “Oh, yes, though I’ll have some later, thank you,” you reply. Lucielle rolls her eyes playfully as she takes a sip and hands your mom a glass. The two start chatting away and you prepare for a long night of third-wheeling two drunk middle-aged women. However, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs and a man’s voice, seemingly trailing up and down the upper floor plan. You wonder if it’s George, though the voice is much smoother than his, and you can’t make out many of the words. You turn back to the women’s conversation, deciding the mysterious noise is none of your business.

A few moments later you hear footsteps descending the stairwell. Whipping your head around, you see a man in a light blue button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a maroon tie with a phone up to his ear, which he promptly shuts upon landing on the first floor. He looks up. It takes a moment for your brain to register who he is, but when it finally does, you dart out of your chair.

“Michael! Oh my god!”

“y/n!”

He wraps you in a bear hug, nearly lifting you off of the floor. Senses overwhelmed by the scent of cologne and the warmth of his body, you sink into him ever so slightly. After a couple seconds you briefly pull away, your arms still on his, to look at him. He’s gorgeous and has grown into his stunning blue eyes perfectly.

“How long has it been? Ten-ish years?” He says, beaming.

“More like twelve,” you retort, having actually counted beforehand during the car ride over.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he says softly before chuckling nervously, as if the comment were a knee-jerk reaction. He smiles sheepishly, hand traveling to the back of his head. “Thank you,” you reply blushing and looking away briefly, stomach alight with butterflies.

Michael pulls out his phone, holding it up. “I really wish I could stay and chat but I have to head back to the office–Gob is causing trouble again.”

“Oh lord, what this time?”

“Can I tell you tonight? I’ll be back around 7.”

“I see you’re grown into your work ethic too huh? That’s not the Michael I remember at the banana stand,” you chuckle.

“No kidding, I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Are you sure you can’t take today off? We could go to the banana stand and walk around!”

“I’m sorry y/n, Gob’s a handful and I’ve got to take care of this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight then,” you say fake-pouting. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder for a brief moment and begins to walk towards the door. “You’d think the place is imploding with the way he acts,” shouts Lucielle with every intention of Michael hearing it. He turns back around to glare at her before locking eyes with you. Perhaps childishly, you make a fake explosion sound with an accompanying dramatic gesture from your hands. He pauses for a moment, looking back at his phone, then once again at you.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

Smiling ear-to-ear, you hop into his car and head to the banana stand. Walking around, you exchange stories of your childhood together–the banana stand, the bike rides, and burns from attempting to operate the cornballer. Though you leave it unsaid, you once again feel the pain of being thirteen and leaving Michael behind when your Dad decided to set up his company headquarters far outside of California. The pit in your stomach begins to subside when you glance back at the banana stand as the two of you walk past. The night before you left, the two of you were stocking supplies when you began to cry about your life being uprooted and most of all, losing your best friend. He kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever–and his too. Leaving broke your heart.

The two of you grab dinner and you find him to be just as funny, charming, and awkward as you left him, only now, he was devastatingly handsome. You talk about your respective jobs, ambitions, and hopes over the food, collectively realizing how weird your childhoods were–but at least you had eachother for most of it.

The two of you pull into the driveway, and he opens the door for you as you exit the car with the sweetest smile on his face as he holds your hand to help you up. You see your mom’s car and figure she’s probably passed out along with Lucielle. “I think your ride is probably asleep,” says Michael. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night, we have a spare bedroom for you to use.”

“Thank you, I’m not drunk or anything, but it certainly wouldn’t be safe for me to drive, much less attempt to wake my mother,” you chirp.

He opens the door to the house slowly and lets you inside. The lights are off so you tip-toe around to the stairs. “Where’s the extra bedroom?” You ask.

“Up here and to the right–I’ll show you,” he replies.

“Oh, perfect,” you let out with a relieved sigh, flopping on the bed, certainly feeling the sedative effects of the alcohol. “Any chance I could get some clothes to sleep in?”

“Sure! I have a shirt you could wear.”

Michael walks out of the room–the light still off with you perched on the bed. You’d have to travel back to your place in the morning. Though it was only a couple of hours away, you felt like Michael was being taken away from you again and it hurt all the same. You wanted more of him–to be around him, to talk about nothing and everything…to touch him.

He walks back into the room with a baggy shirt in hand, backlit by the slight light of the hallway. Hopping up, you glide toward him, reaching your arms out. He hugs you deeply and you feel his heart through his chest and his breath on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

“I feel like I just got you back,” he says, still embracing you. Slowly, he pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you. And for a brief moment, you just look at eachother. As if in sync, your faces move towards each other, his soft lips making contact with yours. He starts slowly, savoring every moment he tastes you, the texture of his stubble on your face making you melt. Pulling you in closer he deepens the kiss, smiling when an ever-so-slight sound escapes your lips. Your hand slides up his back, to his neck, and finally to his hair which you run your fingers through, gripping it slightly as he presses against you. The feeling of your hand on him causes him to breathe deeply against you, hungry for your touch.

“You’re burning up,” he says. You look at him concerned, cheeks and chest flushed a bright red. Eventually you realize what he means.

“It just means I’m enjoying this,” you chuckle, going in for another kiss. His hands trail farther down to your lower back and eventually to your hips. You let out a slight gasp as he pulls them towards his body. Almost out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump, your thighs resting on his hips and your legs wrapped around him. Forearms on your legs, his hands cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as he carries you towards the wall. Back on the wall, you let out a moan as he leans into you. His lips trail from your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly against the tender skin. You feel him getting hard from inside his pants as your nails drag along the shirt on his back.

“I want you, y/n. And not just tonight–I want you with me. I can’t lose you again,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me–you’re stuck with me now,” you giggle, pausing to lock eyes with him. You lean closer once again, lips almost touching his “So fuck me, Michael.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around to the bed, he lays you down gently, once again trailing kisses down your neck. When he gets to your collarbone, his hands begin to reach up your shirt, fingers tracing along your ribs and to your tits. He lifts your shirt off, sitting up for a second to admire you laid out for him, legs around his hips. You get a little shy, covering your breasts with your arms but he pulls them away continuing his trail of kisses from your collar bone to your sternum and finally to your nipple. Your back arches at the sensation of his mouth, tongue circling and lips sucking. Moaning softly, your hands tug on the back of his shirt, eager to feel the skin of his torso against yours. You reach down to unbutton his shirt before stripping off his undershirt.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he coos. You look down at him as his lips continue down your body, his mouth emitting the smallest sounds as he licks and sucks, driving you wild. Kissing just before the band of your underwear, you let out a moan, desperate for him. “Good girl,” he whispers. His words send shivers down your body, your underwear now drenched in anticipation. Slowly, he pulls off your pants, noticing your legs shaking for him already. He puts his hand over your most sensitive region, looking up at your expression–brows furrowed and mouth agape at his touch.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good,” you whine.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers deviantly.

His fingers trace along your pantyline, pulling them down at a painfully slow pace, causing you to squirm underneath him. Running a finger through your folds, you whimper at the pleasure.

“Please, Michael.”

At the sound of your words, his middle and index fingers begin to circle your clit. Your hand reaches to clench the bedsheets while the other occupies itself with his soft brown hair. Your back arches suddenly and you buck your hips against him. Your moans become louder but are soon muffled by his mouth against yours. “That’s my good girl, so sensitive.” No sooner than he finishes his sentence, he slips his fingers inside of you, thumb now circling your clit. Curling them, he hits your g spot as you claw at his back, body pulsating with pleasure. “You’re doing so well, baby. It feels like you’re ready for me,” he coos.

“Please, Michael, I want your cock inside me,” you moan, locking eyes with him. His pupils widen as you palm him through his pants, biting your lip. He lets out a groan, sounding almost like the growl of an animal as he grows painfully hard. Sitting up, he undoes his belt in front of you as your hands trace the inside of your thighs, ready for him. Slipping off his pants, he raises one of your legs over his shoulder. Locking eyes with you, his hand runs the tip of his cock along your folds as your head tilts back in pleasure. Lining up with your entrance, he presses slightly into you, gasping at the feeling of your pussy. His hips slowly descend towards yours, cock pressing further and further into you. You let out a small whimper at his size, but quickly adjust to take him in.

“Oh Michael,” you let out, along with a stream of unintelligible whimpers.

He begins to slide his cock in and out of you, slowly, as not to hurt you. The delicious sounds that escape his mouth ring distinctly in your ears, causing you to clench around his member. You look down to see his hips colliding into yours, your legs shaking around him, buzzing with warmth and electricity at the feeling of him inside of you. He moves faster, pushing into you with increasing force and eliciting yelps upon contact.

“Shh baby, we don’t want to wake them up,” he says while continuing to pound you. Clearly unable to hold in your sounds, he slips two fingers into your mouth and your lips close obediently around them. You taste yourself on his fingers, moans escaping in the form of high-pitched hums in rhythm with his strokes.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he fucks you, winding tighter every time he slides his cock into you. His thrusts grow more erratic, his mouth agape, on the verge of unwinding. He then takes your other leg, placing it over his shoulder, causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you as you squirm and buck beneath him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Michael!” you yelp.

Warmth runs over your body and the string comprising the knot in your stomach is pulled on like a ripcord, unraveling furiously. Your body shakes and your whimpers break in time with his movement while an electrical current overtakes your body with pleasure. Michael follows soon behind, cumming as his moans echo in the room and his thrusts dissipate.

He rolls over beside you as your arms cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much–I missed my best friend,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Come biking along the beach with me tomorrow.”

“I would love that,” you whisper, smiling ear to ear.

Author’s note in comments💕💕💕

[oneforthemunny]

you mentioned rockstar eddie watching her have their babies and still being obsessed ofc, and i’m wondering how janitor eddie would be, esp if she was feeling self conscious

so here's my thoughts on this, because i love janitor!eddie from the bottom of my heart, but... he's a little ball of anxiety and sometimes it makes the situation soooo much worse. like he gets in his own head, and stays in his own head, won't tell you what's going on just starts acting weird, so you think it's you and in reality, he's just in need of prozac lmao.

since oliver was adopted, there was no "down period" ya know? if anything, i think watching you be a mom to him and be sweet to him and kind and loving, it made eddie even fucking more insatiable than before in the most love sicken devoted way.

after you gave birth to olivia, it was different. through the pregnancy, he'd already been a little nervous with you. there's a full blurb about it, where he's nervous to touch you because he doesn't want to hurt you. bless him, there's not a lot out there at the time (early 90s) about having sex and being pregnant lol. so he's just scared. better to stay hands off than hurt you. which in the blurb, doesn't last because once you tell him you want to and it's ok, he's actually feral.

but after olivia, the doctor tells the usual, no sex for this six weeks or it can hurt you. eddie, ofc, asked a million questions about every single thing (turned a thirty minute visit into an hour and a half), but specifically about what could happen, how would you know if you're healed, what did they do to verify that everything was good, was there a test- like a million questions.

six weeks turns into eight, and it's really not too bad because you're both exhausted and literally collapse into each other. but around ten weeks, the routine is becoming more normal, olivia's sleeping through the night, you both feel like you can catch your breath, but eddie's still so distant with sex? like everything else is so good, but if you try to initiate, kiss him a little deeper, make yourself into the little spoon and back your ass up on him, he stills and shuts it down.

by eleven weeks, you're frustrated. by twelve, almost three months, you're hurt. wayne kept the kids for the night, wanted to give you two some alone time and wanted to spend time with his grandbabies, and you think it's perfect. you're about to go back to work, and it seems like a good time to "break the seal" so to say.

you have a dinner at home, he cooked, wined and dined you, is so so soooo fucking sweet and lovey. you're on the couch, watching a movie, but really making out like you used to. you can feel him, feel him getting hard, and when you try to make a move, he starts like panicking. apologizing, and trying to hide it.

"fuck, i-i'm sorry. i don't, just gimme a second, an-and i'll-"

"-so do you just think i'm disgusting now?" tears in your eyes, you're beyond hurt. you'd heard so many stories about men who saw their wives give birth and didn't want to have sex anymore, deemed them gross, but you never in a million years though eddie- your sweet, kind, perfect eddie would be one of them.

eddie is on the brink of an anxiety attack, because ???? why would you think that? you're the prettiest, most beautiful girl in the world to him, and he tells you so.

"then why... why are you not wanting to have sex?" you blubber around your tears. hormones still wild even after, emotional from the hurt too.

"i know you're hard. i can see it." you point to his crotch, his semi still prominent. "so it's me."

"no, no. what? no." eddie thinks he might throw up, head spinning so fast. "it-it's not you-"

"-yes it is! why else wouldn't you want to? it's because i had a baby, and-and you think-"

"-don't." eddie's throat is tight, swallowing his heart. "it's- i- i just- i don't want to hurt you."

"hurt me? you are hurting me. you're hurting my feelings because you won't even touch me."

eddie does nearly throw up, swallows bile and it's like his world is turned up side down. he was so fucking scared, petrified, of having sex with you after and accidentally ripping something. that maybe you weren't healed, that the doctor made a mistake, and he'd fuck you and cause you to like, internally bleed and die or something insane. or that he'd just hurt you, that it would hurt and he'd hear you in pain, and he'd never forgive himself.

you'd just given him everything he ever wanted, made the ultimate sacrifice out of love, and he would not- could not hurt you over that. if he did, he'd genuinely be unable to live with himself.

after he finally just tells you that, instead of being so fucking weird, you calm him down. tell him it doesn't hurt, that you'd let him know if it did.

"just... just use your fingers first. and if it hurts, we can stop and i'll go to the emergency room. i promise. you won't hurt me." you tell him, gently cupping his cheek.

and really, it didn't take much convincing after he finally spilled what had been eating at his mind, once you soothed him. i mean, he had also been in agony. every time you'd take off your top or bend over to pick up a toy, he'd have to run to the bathroom because he was so fucking hard.

it was never unattraction, it was genuinely just his own mind and anxieties and spiraling.

[weewookinard]

Mommy, do you believe in magic?

Jee-Yun has a revelation for her mom about her new favorite uncle. “It's about Uncle Tommy, I think he's a wizard.”

Or, a new Jee-Yun shenanigans story about Maddie having to deal with her daughter's curious and creative mind.

Go read it on AO3

(and discover my other Jee-Yun shenanigan)

It's the first thing I wrote since the death of my dad. I'm sorry it took me so long. I'll try to work on my other projects as soon as possible. Thank you so much for everyone's love 💖

You can also read it after the cut 💖

“It's about Uncle Tommy.”

Maddie barely holds back the sigh that threatens to cross her lips. Jee-Yun hasn't stopped talking about him since he showed her a photo of his new cat, Arnold, the day before. In fact, she never stopped talking about him since he came into her life. It might have been irritating if the duo hadn't been so endearing, the little girl fascinated by this new addition in her life.

Questions about him, his life, what are his favourite cereals and who is in his opinion the best member of the paw patrol squad. Stories about their adventures, visiting the zoo and playing with dolls and going to see movies with him and Uncle Buck, every detail retold multiple time. Thoughts on how he is the best story reader she knows because he does great sheep voices, and on how strong he is, and do you know mom that he has a car that is older than dad?

“What about Uncle Tommy Jee?” She asks as she continues chopping carrots, mildly focused on the recipe now that her daughter is in front of her, a serious frown on her face.

“I think he's a wizard.”

The mom stares at her daughter, wondering what she had done in her previous life to deserve such hardships. The knife stops mid movement, as if she needs every part of her body to stay attentive.

“What do you mean, he's a wizard?”

Jee-Yun looks to the left, then to the right, before she approaches the kitchen counter, her face just at the right size for her big brown eyes to be seen. Her voice is muffled even though they are the only one in the house right now.

"I heard him tell Uncle Buck how he flew to save some lady the other day." The kid stops, a serious expression on her face, as if this is enough to explain her point.

Which is not.

Maddie waits but nothing more come. Nothing but Jee-Yun, so sure about her discovery.

"And?" She asks, not sure what to expect.

Her lack of shock seems to disappoint her daughter whose frown deepens, the same way Buck's used to when he was a kid. It melts Maddie's heart to see how Jee looks like Howie and still inherited the Buckley pout.

"And? Mommy, Uncle Tommy can fly! Did you hear what I just told you?" She throws a disbelieving look at her mom, as if she's doubting the sanity of the woman. "Normal people can fly mom, only witches and wizards and Tinker Bell. Everybody know that."

It's vexing really, but Maddie decides to ignore it, more interested in what her daughter is saying.

Finally, she puts down her knife, carrots forgotten, and her hand goes through her hair in a gesture supposed to help her focus on what logic means to a five-year-old.

"Sweetheart, Uncle Tommy flies a helicopter, he does not fly in the sky by magic to save people."

Her other hand comes and starts to stroke her belly where the baby is calm. One day this new little one will, too, asks questions and believes things. She hopes it will stay this cute.

Because yes, Jee-Yun is really cute right now, even if she looks like a mad woman.

"No!" She replies, "Tommy is a firefighter and firefighters use fire trucks, they don't use helicoper!" Her pronunciation is not great, and it adds to the picture, making Maddie smiles with tenderness. Which is apparently not what her daughter wants if she judges by the look the little girl address her.

"Don't laugh!" Her pout and her little crossed arms don't help Maddie stay serious, but she tries anyway.

"I'm not laughing Jee-Bug! And I know that firefighters use fire trucks but sometimes there is no road to go where the fire is, so they have to use other vehicle. Like boats, or helicopters."

Jee-Yun takes a minute to think about what her mother just said. She looks disappointed and it makes Maddie's smile flicker. Away the magic, away the wonder of childhood. She hopes this hard reality won't break the admiration the little girl has for her uncle. Being the cause of such a disappointment would be too hurtful.

When the kid finally manages to find her voice again it's timid, soft, sad. "But... But he told me we could go and fly together to see what's in the clouds. I thought he would teach me how to do it..."

A part of Maddie's heart hurts to see her little one so sad about not being able to fly. The other one decided to picture Tommy flying in a superman suit and it's one of the most hilarious things she ever pictured.

She takes a few steps toward her daughter and tries to lean over her despite her really pregnant belly. Her hand comes and caress Jee-Yun's face. "Baby... Maybe he said he would take you with his helicopter? Uncle Buck told me it's a really big one, I'm sure they can find a spot for you. Maybe you will be able to watch him pilot."

She doesn't know if it's the cuddling or the words but Jee's face lights up, her smile back. "What?!" Her scream resonates in the whole house. "I knew Uncle Tommy is the best! I have to pack my suitcase so we can go on a trip with the helicoper! Do you think we can go see the stars today? I need to take my shampoo for the travel!"

Maddie doesn't have the time to respond to the little girl. Her daughter vanishes as fast as her sudden sadness. It makes Maddie smile while her hand search for her phone.

She now has to ask her brother's boyfriend if he can organize a chopper date. She hopes it can happen soon enough because Maddie knows there is no way she'll be able to unpack Jee-Yun's suitcase until she actually sees the clouds.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: "You know what your traumatic backstory calls for?"

Vaggie: "Hugs?"

Charlie: "THERAPY!"

Vaggie: "Charlie, I don't need-"

Charlie: "Oh YOU don't need therapy? Really? Really."

Vaggie: "..... I'm perfectly functional. Also, it's my trauma."

Charlie: "And is this OUR loving relationship?"

Vaggie: "Of course it-"

Charlie: "The one I'm planning on spending the rest of my life in? Trauma included?"

Vaggie: "I- if, if you want to-?"

Charlie: "Just like how YOU'VE spent three years helping ME with the whole 'wow my family fell apart soooo fast let me cope by latching onto the dream of my disappeared mom while pretending it's totally fine I somehow feel even MORE distant from my dad who lives only a ten minute walk across town' thing? Making 'help charlie!' into your whole Reason for Being?!"

Vaggie: "Hold on, I wasn't in the best headspace when that slipped out-"

Charlie: "OBJECTION! Clear admission of truth!"

Vaggie: "-fuck."

Charlie: "And did you let me be there for you then, when your head was in a bad place? Or did you pull a 'I want to be alone' card?"

Vaggie: "I just needed- I didn't want to say anything else stupid."

Charlie: "Oh so you didn't wanna be dramatic about it, huh?"

Vaggie: "Yes- NO!"

Charlie: "Like how I can be dramatic?"

Vaggie: "It's not the same-"

Charlie: "Do YOU like being there for ME when I'M in a really bad no good and sad headspace?"

Vaggie: "You know I do."

Charlie: "Even when I go sit in a corner my own because I still can't believe there's someone in my life who'll want to come looking for me- who I don't need to apologize for being sad or 'dramatic' around- and who says she's HAPPY to be worrying about me?"

Vaggie: "Sweetie I am happy to worry about you."

Charlie: "Ah-HA! But I don't get to do that for you! YOU want me to be sad around YOU-"

Charlie: "Wait that sounds weird, uhh- oh whatever-"

Charlie: "Point is, I don't get to see YOU being sad around ME! And no, anger don't count! You like being grumpy! Grumpy is active! It feels productive and that's why you hate feeling SAD!"

Vaggie: "You just said you hide it from me too. Even after three years of being together."

Charlie: "Oh no really? Does that bother you???"

Vaggie: "It worries me!"

Charlie: "Okay then!!! EXACTLY! We both need therapy."

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "That's fair."

Charlie: (preening) "Thank you."

Vaggie: “How the fuck did you not win that case up in Heaven.”

Charlie: "Angels are jerks and their minds are hard to change. Not my angel though. Mine is great~"

Vaggie: "Hold that thought until after I've asked this one question, sweetie."

Charlie: "Ask away!"

Vaggie: "How do we do therapy."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "H-"

Vaggie: "Without using Husk and alcohol. We are not paying him enough to deal with my angelic shit."

Charlie: "We could give him a raise- how much do you think-?"

Vaggie: "Not even if we gave him the hotel, babe."

Charlie: "Oh."

Vaggie: "So. What does sober therapy look like?"

Charlie: "Hmm....."

Charlie: "......."

Charlie: "Next question."

Vaggie: "Do you wanna just start off with a hug."

Charlie: "I want to pat myself on the back for having such a smart, supportive girlfriend- but you'll have do to it for me instead. While we hug."

-phone call time-

Carmilla: "You have five seconds before I hang up. Talk.

Charlie: "Carmilla, hi!!! It's about Vaggie-"

Carmilla: "No."

Charlie: "Oh ok! I just thought-"

Carmilla: "No."

Charlie: "-you seemed to really care about her, and maybe see a bit of yourself in her, maaaaybe you'd have some tips on-"

Carmilla: "No. Take her to Rosie's. Go with her and STAY with her."

Charlie: "Rosie- OF COURSE Rosie's! Right! I will!!"

Carmilla: "Don't take it personally when she tries to escape."

Charlie: "When she whats?

Carmilla: "The brooding silently in a chair and refusing to talk will also pass. Give her space. But don't leave her."

Charlie: "No no I won't, but why would she try esc-"

Charlie: "Oh Vaggie! No, I'm just on the phone with Carmilla-"

Vaggie: "WHAT."

Charlie: "-we're talking therapy ideas for you! And-"

Vaggie: (muffled swearing)

Charlie: "-she says Rosie's might be a good idea! You know, like how Alastor took there so I could talk everything out with someone finally, well I guess and also to get a cannibal army, but Rosie helping me with the you issue by laying my heart bare to her was the main good thing from all that, so-"

Charlie: "-VAGGIE GET BACK HERE!"

Carmilla: "Condolences on her having wings again. Good luck"

Carmilla: (hangs up to the sound of frantic flapping and yelling)

Zestial: "...."

Zestial: "...toss'ed to the very wolves... truly, that was wretched of thee."

Carmilla: "I owe them nothing."

Zestial: "And what of thyself?"

Carmilla: "Why, were my disinterested actions of a moment ago not self-serving enough for you?"

Zestial: "Thou art denying much in thine distance from her."

Carmilla: "I already have two daughters-"

Zestial: "As thou sayst."

Carmilla: "You are not my therapist, Zestial."

Zestial: "Nay- would that thou should'st yet find one, old friend."

Carmilla: "Be quiet."

Zestial: "Shan't~"

[hart269]

Slithering Hearts

Chapter 9

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! reader

Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother.

A/N : The plot thickens as Sirius runs away from home.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Through the incessants knocking of the door at midnight, you had managed to be there first. Considering you were already awake, you had been the first to respond to the knocks, though you gripped your wand tight. It was storming outside, rain pelting down on the Potter Manor. Keets, your house elf stood behind you, although she argues to there first, you managed to keep her behind. You pried the door just as the frantic knocking stopped.

Out of all the things you had expected, a drenched Sirius Black wasn't one of them. He looked shabby, thin as if he hadn't eaten all summer. His knuckles were red and pale, clutching a small bag on one. His face had little cuts on them, and there were tears running down his face mixed with the rain water.

"Hello baby potter" he croaked. Another round of thunder cackled, as his body slumped, you screamed for James, lifting Sirius who was on his knees. Keets rushed to call your mom. James came running, running his hands through his tousled hair. Eyes widening at the sight of Sirius, he rushed to take him in his arms, getting his t-shirt soaked.

"Hey, Padfoot" James brushed his wet hair behind, "Be with me alright"

Sirius however kept crying, buried in his bestfriend's shoulder. The footsteps on the stairs, indicated, your parents rushing downstairs.

Sirius finally parted, "I had nowhere else to go, my mother she wanted me to join him".

Your eyes darted to the door, as if waiting for another figure to step in, coming back in disappointment.

James rubbed his back, "Join who, Sirius"

Sirius looked up in misery or fury, you couldn't tell, "Voldemort". Euphemia gasped hearing that name.

Sirius shook his head, "Euphs, I'm sorry for coming at this hour but I can't go back to that house".

Fleamont stepped forward, "Absolutely not, there is no chance you're going back to that house."

Sirius nodded, tears of appreciation flowed down his pale cheeks. Euphemia however looked in concern, "Sirius, dear, are you hurt?".

He however only gave a little grunt, "Nothing that bad", which in all its seriousness probably didn't mean much."

Your mom nodded, "I'll send some potions for you, James, honey take him to your room."

James moved with a "Yes mum". You left soon too, your mind still wandering about Reg, why didn't he come with Sirius, did they not let him, was he hurt or worse, Sirius didn't say anything to indicate his whereabouts.

You asked him that after breakfast, he however scoffed while you felt your heart sank, "I would advise you to stay away from him, he isn't what you think he is"

You weren't to back down soon, "Why would I, I have spent more time with him in the past few years than you did, I know him, Sirius, he isn't bad"

He sighed, "You're blinded by your itty bitty crush, he is just like them, he didn't even" He choked, "He didn't even seem to have an idea of what he's getting himself into, he's just mommy's little boy who will do whatever she tells him to"

"Do you really think of him like that because I know for a fact that he hates living there as much as you do, you think he likes to be there, that he enjoys being in her presence" you snapped.

He shook his head, glowering "Really, he wasn't the one who got punished for being in a different house, he wasn't the one his mother hates for simply fucking existing"

You took a deep breath, "You're right Sirius, you are, doesn't means he's that better off is it, you both live in the same house, and not to mention he loves you Sirius, he does, he won't say it, you won't say it but he is your brot-"

"Stop it, stop defending him, are you listening to yourself, he is fiooling you, he has turned to their side, no matter what you or I feel, he is gone to them".

Maybe the truth wasn't that Sirius never wanted to talk to Regulus, maybe it was that everytime he wanted to his brain shut him off. To admit he felt sympathy from his brother would have him accept Reg's pain along with his own, and he didn't feel brave enough to do so.

Summer went quietly, not a letter from Reg. You and Sirius eventually became civil with each other, hanging out all together. Soon, he became an unofficial Potter, heck he accidentaly called Euphemia mom once and now he had stuck with it.

The ride to Hogwarts express was filled with apprehension, you were sitting next to Amelia. You were hearing her talk about her Summer ignoring the sting you felt realising Regulus was now plainly ignoring you.

You knew there had to be something but you decided to wait until you could find him alone, which was near impossible. He wasn't to be seen in astronomy tower either. You waited and waited, until you snapped, dragging him away from Rosier and shoving him into an emoty classroom. Locking the door behind, you pointed the wand at his neck, "Any last words, Black?"

"Last words huh, you''re gonna kill me Potter, you can't even seem to stay away from me" he leaned over you.

"I bet ghost Regulus would be nicer, you have been avoiding me like a plague, some friend you are" You stared back at him with ferocity and an unrecognised softness.

"Then go, what are you waiting for?" he said, not looking at you.

"Is that it, Reg, Is that all you have to say, all you can say, have I not listened patiently to whatever troubles you" your voice went soft with each syllable.

"What do you want me to tell you, you know what happened, he left to your house, not a letter, not a note, in the dead of night, he just left, I didn't even know where until much letter"

His fingers fumbled with his robes.

You took his hand, "You can come too, Reg. Run away from there, come with me"

He hesitated, "I can't, It's too late for me anyways"

Your eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean too late Reg?"

Regulus didn't look at you, "You should leave while it's still time, you can still save yourself"

You scoffed, "I don't need anyone to save from me, not from you. Do you know how many times I'v been told to leave you and I told off every time, and now you are doing the same".

He slumped against the wall, his hand still clutched in yours, "Maybe they were right?"

"Right about what, Reg right about what, can you be fucking clear" the words burnt in your throat. Frustration clawing its way in.

His eyes were filled with pain, as he looked at you in desperation, alternating his choice between telling you to leave him alone or to stay forever. He decided in the end, to let you decide, for he couldn't find a way out of his misery. And he had known you more than he had known himself.

He slided the cloak covering his arm, hearing you gasp gave him the confirmation that you had seen it, the mark. The hollow eyes of the skull that bore onto him every single time he saw it, haunting him.

Your fingers brushed over it, testing that it wasn't a mere part of your hallucination. That it was really there. You flinched as if it had burned and he suspected it may have, charred something. You took a shuddering breath, you had thought of many possibilities but this, this was different from all of them. The horror of reality outweighed your imagination.

You looked at him to find him already looking at you, his expression grim, his eyes distressed, pained. "Did you agree to this?".

One question that you beleived was the most crucial one now.

"Not directly, no, The night after Sirius was gone, I had nowhere to run, I couldn't leave, I had no magic, I was surrounded by them, so many of them" He choked, a lone tear escaped his eyes. You gently brushed it away, he dropped his hands onto your cheek. "I couldn't tell them no, he was there, he said it was an honour that I was his youngest soldier but I felt anything but so. I felt vile and it wouldn't go away" He glared at the mark, sniffling. Rubbing it harshly while more tears fell.

You held both his hands, stopping him. You slowly snaked your arms around his waist, pulling hin gently towards you. His body remained tense, until he too wrapped his hands around you, head dropping into the crook of your neck. He tightened his grip, engulfing you in him. His body was shaking. You gently rubbed circles in his back.

"It's okay, Reg, everything will be fine." He just clutched you tighter until he couldn't feel his hands or his feelings. Was it bad that you personally wanted to murder his parents?

Taglist : @shycreationdreamland @mp-littlebit @girlbooklover555 @godofstory @misacc08 @starchaser-lily @moonywastakenn @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @skepvids @venomsvl @hecateschildren @rainyroads @heizoulvr

[justwritedreams]

Can I live in your embrace? | Wooyoung

Wooyoung x Reader Word count: 977 Genre: fluff, little angst Author: maari Warnings: Reader feeling sad, mention of fight with parents and Wooyoung being an completely angel that's a warning? yes Note: It's been a shitty week so I made this one for me again 😭😭 Summary: How good would it be if you lived in Wooyoung's embrace?

⩥ Ateez Masterlist

Ateez Taglist: @foxinnie8

"You had to see his face when he put the pepper on his nose." Wooyoung laughed loudly. "He had a burning nose for 3 days."

Y/N smiled briefly in a very dejected way with both hands resting on her face as she stared into space, she was listening to everything he was saying and even though that story about San accidentally putting the pepper in his nose while he was wiping his face after picking the pepper was very funny, she wasn't laughing like Wooyoung imagined her to be.

"Hey." he stared at her suspiciously. "Did something happen? You didn't even eat properly."

Y/N looked at her almost untouched plate and twisted her mouth without knowing what to say, in fact she wasn't even hungry and the food he had made looked delicious.

But she didn't have the energy for anything, she was upset, tired… "Babe." He grabbed one of her wrists, making her lower her hand so he could stroke her skin. "What happened?"

Her eyes will fill with tears that only didn't fall because she held them back. She didn't want to remember because she was still very hurt but she knew that not saying anything would make her feel worse.

"Can we go to your room?" she asked softly, they could hear the TV on in the living room and the last thing she wanted was to disturb his friends. "I'll tell you everything there." she promised when she saw him narrow his eyes, visibly worried.

"Okay. Come on." He got up from the kitchen stool and intertwined his fingers with hers, bringing her with him.

Once in his room, Y/N threw herself on the bed as soon as she let go of his hand and saw him standing in front of the bed, watching her. "You know how much I hate fighting with my parents, especially my mom." she spoke quietly, hugging a pillow as Wooyoung walked over to sit next to her.

"You don't usually do this often. Why did you fight?"

"It was so stupid. I just said she needed to stop hyper valuing everything my sister does like it was a Nobel Prize."

Wooyoung sighed.

Y/N had a great relationship with her parents, but with her sister it wasn't so good. The two had very different opinions and personalities, they constantly argued.

"You know, my sister is spoiled, dramatic, dependent, loose... If I stay here listing her flaws, that's all it will be." she huffed, irritated. "But it seems like every time I tell my mom to set limits with her, we always fight."

"Then you don't have to talk about her." He shrugged and lay down next to her, facing her. "Sometimes the more you talk, the less your mother will do."

Y/N frowned.

"You mean she needs to see what I see for herself, with her own eyes." she guessed and he hummed. "You'll just wear yourself out for nothing, because it'll look like you're picking on your sister."

Y/N pondered, she agreed even though she didn't like seeing her mother's situation. She could help, if they wanted her help.

"Come on." He placed his hands on either side of her face, making her look at him. "Undo that pout or else I'll have to kiss you."

The corners of her lips rose slightly and she pretended an even sadder pout, making Wooyoung laugh and bring her face closer, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

As soon as he moved away from her, stroking her nose with his own, she brought her hand to his wrist, which was still holding her.

"I love you, you know?" she spoke softly, opening her eyes and seeing that Wooyoung still had his closed, smiling widely and convinced.

"Who doesn't love me?"

She rolled her eyes and snuggled into his arms, wrapping her arms around his back in a tight hug. Wooyoung took the opportunity to hold her tightly around the waist, practically crushing her against his chest but she didn't care.

This was exactly what she needed, his arms around her, the warmth of his body surrounding her like a protective shield, as if he could take all the sadness and pain from her chest. And in fact, not only could he but he was taking away all her bad feelings.

There was no other place she would rather be.

Y/N closed her eyes tightly, forgetting everything, and pressed her face into the back of his head while their legs intertwined.

She had no idea how much she needed that hug until she was there.

"What is this-" he said, confused when he felt something wet on the back of his neck and pulled his face away enough to look at Y/N. "Are you crying?" She shook her head although it was completely unnecessary as a trail of tears ran down her face and Wooyoung looked at her in surprise. "Angel." he whispered and she sniffled, fighting back tears.

To make the position a little more comfortable, without breaking the hug, he brought Y/N to his chest while placing his own back on the mattress.

This made her grab him by the shoulders and waist with her legs, exactly like a sloth while not knowing what to say, he just calmly stroked her hair. "I wish I could live in that embrace." she said, against his chest.

Wooyoung laughed.

"You don't need to live in my embrace." he replied and moved the hand that was stroking her hair to the back of her head, making her look at him. "You already live in my heart anyway."

She smiled shyly.

"You're so corny." she shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I loved."

Wooyoung kissed the top of her head and hugged her even tighter.

"Don't tell anyone. It's our secret."