#almost forgot my art tag again. embarrassing

[hexxingcode]

utter embarrassment tbh

[cheaploafs]

First kisses can be complicated

[pearlymel]

Dandelion

love is in the air.

"These other flowers, don’t grow the same / So just leave it here with me, let’s get dirty, dirty."

warnings: NSFW, MDNI. extremely soft soft husband Sylus x fem reader. there's really no plot, it's just the life of a married couple (plus celebrating his birthday), contains oral (fem rec), dry humping, unprotected, it's just soft, fluff, multiple petnames. 2.8k words.

notes: lyric reference from "dandelion" by Ariana grande. happy birthday to my baby <3

You can feel your hands sweating against Sylus’ as you turn your head around the different departments and stores in the mall.

You pray that he doesn't notice you trying to stay cool while you were dying inside to get his gift.

Sylus guides you to a chic, high-end shopping arcade. It's filled with rows of luxurious stores. Places you're already familiar with.

He guides you through the sea of designer clothes, his thumb occasionally rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

"see anything you like so far?” He begins. you don't look interested enough, he notes. "Why don't you find something that you like, and don't look at the price tag.”

Not now, you weren't here to shop for you.

“I'll be back, stay here.” He watches you dash off with a bemused expression.

This little escapade feels almost like a game. He's not bothered by it, not really. But it almost felt like you were avoiding him all day.

Little did he know you were silent from overthinking of getting something as simple as a gift.

"Don't get into any trouble, sweetie—" he calls out, but he knows you'll be too preoccupied to listen.

He waits there, looking the picture of nonchalant.

—

“honey, stop,”

Honey.

That's a little unfair.

“I was supposed to—” Though Sylus doesn't listen, his tongue laves over your clothed cunt in long, languid strokes.

What did you even do for him to be this eager after coming back from the mall?

“what? Can't have my favorite snack after a long day?” His grip on your wrist tightens just when he senses you were about to push him off.

It's not like you hate it. No, never. It's just you were supposed do something that you completely forgot because of how he's making your head blank.

His teeth then find the hem of your panties. Slowly, he pulls the fabric down, leaving your pussy exposed to his eyes when he spreads your legs further apart.

He takes a moment just to look. And you're almost embarrassed.

He’d call you a work of art, like he always does, but he knows if he does it now while focusing on the wetness smeared on your pussy, you'll be dying from embarrassment.

“don't stare at it,” you pout.

His eyes flick up to your face, and he can’t help smirking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylus brushes the pad of a finger directly on your clit, and you're immediately shivering.

He circles your bundle of nerves in a slow and soothing way, the type that makes you moan softly while pushing your hips to seek more.

His head dips down, and his tongue quickly replaces his finger, making you gasp as you immediately grab a handful of his hair to tug at.

He continues the onslaught with his mouth, his fingers now sliding through your wet folds and pressing against your entrance. He hears your soft gasp once again, the way your breathing hitches when he pushes one inside—not nearly enough, but it’s all he can give you like this.

“I’ll give you more than this later, be patient. ” He breaks away to murmur against your inner thigh, he sucks in a breath at the way you cry out for him, and presses another finger inside you, pumping them in and out. He wants to hear more of it, every single noise you make, so he returns to teasing your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, sylus, you're being so good for me—”

The words make him feel dizzy—he thrives on praise, the same way that you crave his touch.

His fingers press in deeper, curving just right to stroke the sensitive spot inside you. He’s not going to be gentle at this point; he’s already too far gone, drunk on you.

“Mmhn, faster—” you demand with a whine, and his fingers move to your request, faster, rougher, curling just right against that sensitive spot and—

Ding dong.

Your eyes shoot open, you're both suddenly interrupted by the doorbell leading to the entry of the manor, loud voices coming from the entrance.

Damn it all to hell. The twins.

Right, you remember the thing you wanted to do, you were going to bake with them since everyday is of this month (April) is their boss man's birthday.

Sylus wants you, desperately, and the last thing he needs right now is company, especially their company.

—

The house is quiet, finally quiet.

Sylus stands back from his desk, staring down at a pile of documents strewn across the wood. But he’s not reading a single thing.

He’s frustrated, but not for the usual reasons. Just thinking about earlier (before you were interrupted), it makes him hard again.

—

Your idea of help to ease his stress is definitely… interesting

He’s standing between your legs, eyes watching your furrowed eyebrows, your face is nothing but focused as you glide the razor across his jaw.

How adorable.

Sylus was in the middle of shaving after a long night, but of course, you insisted on sitting on the sink to “help out.”

no, you weren't helping. Sylus wanted to get rid of his hard on by doing something else and letting you relax. You basically walked into his trap.

He can't help but lean into your hands, eyes slightly closed as you finish up shaving the last bits right above his lips. You then grab a towel to pat dry the remaining foam on his face.

“you're all fresh for your upcoming birthday,” you comment, followed by leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

A kiss greets your cheek back from his own lips, “I have you to thank for that, apparently.”

He pulls back, giving you a playful smirk. “I suppose I’ll look pretty for you then, won’t I?”

You grin back, “you're like prince charming, annoyingly handsome,”

A snort escapes him before he can help it. He looks at your face, trying to look serious but failing completely.

“I prefer to be a dragon keeping you in the top of my tower, so that prince charming can't reach you, princess.”

Oh, that sounds hot alright.

You're both laughing after a moment of silence, Sylus buries his face on your shoulder while he holds you close to him. my precious.

—

it's midnight before you realize it, his birthday.

Sylus shivers under your touch, tilting his head into your hand at once like an obedient dog. An obedient dragon, perhaps—but a tamed one. Or, well. A semi-tamed one.

"You don't need to worry," he whispers, "I'll be gentle with you,"

You melt at his reassuring words, even while he promises he'll behave, his hands wander a little. Sliding up beneath your nightgown.

“I prepared a gift for you,” you say as you continue caressing his face, “but you'll receive it in the morning. At our garden.”

It took effort to not throw you back onto the bed and devour you then and there. You and your sweet, kind words, your sweet and kind touches.

Sylus chuckles, "I appreciate the thought, sweetie," he hums, his voice rough and low. "But this is all I want for my birthday."

His fingers trail higher, teasing the edge of your underwear and sending heat straight to your core.

His hand wanders higher, gently rubbing against the dampening fabric of your underwear. all the while, his eyes remain locked on yours. "Is this all for me?" he murmurs, "All this excitement, this anticipation...?”

A soft grunt escapes his lips when you suddenly climb into his lap, his hands automatically coming to rest on your sides.

Your thighs on either side of his thighs, your arms around his neck. The weight of you, the warmth of you, it's driving him insane.

Your lips are over his, and he returns the kiss eagerly, one hand winding in your hair, the other roaming across your skin to settle on the small of your back.

You're so close, so close that you both can't help but grind against each other impatiently. He groans your name, his hips instinctively bucking up to meet yours, desperate to feel even more of you.

"Sweetie,"

“I love you, pretty boy,” you whisper in between short kisses, and a lopsided grin spreads across his face at your words, his heart giving a little flutter in spite of the heat of the moment.

“love you too, my jewel,” he whispers just before his mouth captures yours in another deep, passionate kiss.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, Sylus nips and licks his way down your body, pulling down your nightgown just enough until your pretty breasts are in display for him.

gorgeous, Sylus thinks as he leans down to take one nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily while you whine from the stimulation as his hand kneads the other breast.

“Sylus—” your fingers tug at his hair when you felt his teeth graze the sensitive peak, and he releases your breast with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your damp nipple.

You're in a daze, and before you know it, he's lifting your hips up to gently lay you back on the mattress and unbuckle his belt, to free his aching cock from it's tight confinements.

He rocks his hips forward, grinding the tip of his cock over your slick folds, teasing your clit before pushing just slightly inside you then pulling back out.

Sylus huffs out a breathy chuckle when he watches how you try to take more of his inches, yet he continues teasing you again and again, without giving you what you need.

Finally, he rolls his hips slowly, the thick head of his cock parting your folds, slipping inside you with a low groan. He took his time, inch by inch, letting you feel every throb of his length sinking into you, stretching you around him.

When he was finally fully sheathed inside you, he paused, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. One hand slid down to your belly, cupping the gentle curve, his thumb tracing the line where your bodies joined.

“Oh, you feel incredible.”

“i-I do?”

Sylus raises a brow just slightly before he gives you a slow, deep roll of his hips, grinding his pelvis against yours, and this man moans out just for you to hear.

“does this answer your question, pretty girl?”

His hand then slides down to your knee, pushing it up and back towards your chest until your thigh was draped over his shoulder, opening you even wider to him.

Your nails scratch at his chest, you feel like you're above the clouds, but at the same time it feels like you're on fire.

You hiss when he starts to move faster, his strokes growing longer and harder, each thrust pushing you up the bed slightly. The new angle let him hit that secret spot deep inside you with every drive of his hips, and you couldn't help but cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“C-careful,” Sylus almost stops at your plea. Instead, he slows his thrusts before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i’ve got you, beloved.” he doesn't question anything, he'd rather listen to you and do it without questioning it.

Sylus grinds his pelvis against yours, rubbing your clit firmly as he buries himself balls-deep inside your spasming cunt.

He feels your body go rigid, then—he senses you shudder violently as your orgasm crashes over you, wave of pure, unadulterated bliss radiating out from your core, and you almost feel relaxed.

your walls clench around his length, milking his own impending release. Sylus slots his lips over yours messily as he finds his own release, his cock pulsing as he pumps stream of thick, hot cum deep into your still fluttering pussy.

Though, he doesn't stop afterwards, he continues overstimulating himself, slowly grinding his softening cock into you while you both moan and whimper into each other's lips.

you both stay still, and he gives your cheek one last kiss, “is my wife sleepy?”

“… happy birthday.”

“thank you, dearest.”

—

As you stepped outside, you couldn't help but appreciate the perfect weather; the sun shined gently in the sky, a light breeze passed through the garden. It was as if the sun was setting up a romantic scene.

Sylus let out a soft hum of contentment when the picnic setup comes to view, a small twitch of surprise on his face. His gaze immediately went to yours, a subtle smile tugging on his lips.

"You did this? For me?" He asked, raising his eyebrows somewhat as he gently pulled you closer to him by the waist.

"happy birthday!"

your husband definitely didn't expect to be tackled to the ground, but he couldn't stop the wide grin on his face as you rolled both of you down. He lands on the soft grass with a soft thump, his hands landing on your waist to stabilize you both.

"You little-" Sylus' words are cut off when he feels you hands cupping his face, his expression softens, it’s like you could almost see his eyes sparkle.

he couldn't help but close his eyes instinctively when you started showering his face with soft, gentle kisses. He let out a light laugh at the feeling of your lips. The subtle feeling of the leaves falling from the trees above you and landing on you both added to the atmosphere, and Sylus felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. Opening his eyes, he looked at you, “you’re beautiful.”

you grin, “thank you, handsome.”

The grass beneath you was soft, almost like a bed of feathers.

"come," you stand up to take Sylus' hands in yours, guiding him towards the little set up.

As you reached the blanket on the grass, he sits down to lean back, and his eyes roams over the food that was laid out.

"You went all out, huh? Did you plan all this by yourself?" He asked, still somewhat not believing that this scene was set up for his birthday.

"anything for you," you clear your throat, sitting right in front of him with a box on your lap, “food or gift first?”

you seem even more excited than he is, which makes him pretty excited. "The gift, then. You didn't really expect me to choose food over your present, did you?” Sylus chuckled as he watched you excitedly handing him the small box, "… Should I be worried that you're going to burst from excitement?”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms as if to silently tell him open it already.

He lifts the lid off.

... And he contents of the box was not what he expected, as it only had two items.

a onesie. And baby shoes next to it.

His expression went blank as he stared at the two items: the onesie and the baby shoes. For a moment, he was completely speechless, unable to process what he was looking at, then slowly, he lifted his gaze to look at you, his wide eyes filled with bewilderment.

"Are you—” He could only manage to say the first two words, but the rest got caught in his throat.

at first, you were smiling at the anticipation of what his reaction might be, but your expression falls when you sense his face pale slightly.

before you could even ask him what’s wrong, he turns to you, “did i hurt you last night? did i press anywhere too hard? did i—”

you wrap your arms around his neck as a gesture of reassurance, Sylus couldn't help but bury his face in your shoulder, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him completely. He wrapped his own arms around you, holding you tight, as if trying to anchor himself in the reality of this moment.

“i’m perfectly fine, hon. don’t worry.” you try soothing him, your hand rubbing his back.

“you’re pregnant.” His voice was soft and shaky as he spoke, his words muffled by your skin. "I can't believe it."

“don’t cry.” you tease, and he couldn't help but let out another small laugh, his heart swells with affection. He held you just a bit tighter, a small smile on his face.

A family. You're expecting. You're going to be parents. Oh god, now he has to make sure the house is safe for the baby.

This is truly, the best gift he has ever received.

"We're going to be three," he says in awe, the words bringing joy and pride to him. He leaned in, his forehead gently touching yours, "You, me, and our little one.”

Sylus might not be crying this time, but when he holds his little one for the first time, his emotions might betray him.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Wife: How I met your Mother

notes: i've had a few requests for how Joel and wifey met and must say I have been working on this for quite some time.

Warnings: protected sex (ikr what a shocker from me!!!), oral f!receiving, anxious reader during sex, multiple orgasms, reader has hair, brief descriptions of body change post pregnancy

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel forgot to make the reservation to Tommy’s number one favorite steakhouse for his birthday. The damn idiot. He had been so busy this year, what with launching their own company, and Joel taking the lead, he’d been swamped with workworkwork. And of course, the place he was meaning to dine at was no longer taking reservations or walkups.

Which left Joel to scrounge for a high-top bar-area table in Tommy’s third favorite steakhouse, some ritzy fancy place that wasn’t in either Miller’s ball park. What should have been an evening indulging in one 70 year old man throwing down on the grill in a family run steakhouse that had massive 27 oz steaks for $32, they were instead having to settle for a corporate run, posh place that had abstract art on the walls on sale for thousands of dollars, a menu with foreign sounding wines, and tiny steaks on big plates, topped with random greens for decoration, and pulling a whopping, ridiculous price tag for some pinky sized meat.

That being said, even after Joel had forwarded the correct address, it’s been 15 minutes, and no Tommy. He anxiously glances at the wall clock. Joel wasn’t looking forward to sitting here, what with his scrounged hair and unkept beard. The best wardrobe he could put together included a lesser-stained pair of boots and a flannel shirt tucked in his jeans, with a belt he had forgotten about, collecting dust in the closet until tonight. 

He didn’t belong. He just wanted to eat, clink a beer or two with Tommy, and call it a night.

 He swears, if Tommy doesn’t show up in the next 5, 4, 3, 2,—

“Oh my god this place is a maze.” you say, shaking your head and setting down at Tommy’s vacant chair. 

Right in front of Joel.

He blinks a few times. Who the hell is this chick? 

This chick, evidently oblivious, hadn’t even glanced up to his presence, proceeding to dig through your purse you just tossed to the ground as you go on…

 “And then…wait where did I leave off— Oh fuck, so then Kelly asked him if he was going to get her flowers, and he said ‘oh only if you want’ and then I was like ‘Kel, you shouldn’t have to ask on your birthday to get flowers from your fiancee.’”

And you still haven’t looked up, busy now applying some honey vanilla scented, nice smelling lip balm. Even as Joel opens his mouth to say something, you close your eyes and shake your head again with a chuckle, proceeding: “…like that’s shit you argue with your teenage boyfriend over, not the guy you’re gonna be having kids with! And then she said this was the third time she brought it up, plus—“

Joel puts his hands down softly on the table, frowning. Holy shit, does this woman ever stop yapping?

“—oh didn’t she have to drop hints like an atom bomb that she wanted to get married? After what, 4 years? I swear, this is why I’m staying single even if the hottest, sexiest, sweatiest fucker were right in front of—“

You finally look up, to see…some guy?

Instead of fear, or embarrassment, or… any reasonable expression, your face instead sours to that of a confused defensiveness.

“Who the hell are you?” You ask offensively.

Joel is taken aback. “Wh—I’m … Joel?”

“Okay ‘Joel’ but I meant what are you doing sitting here?”

Joel tilts his head, too astounded. “This is my table,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Uh— no it’s not,” you almost cackle, like what an idiot he is. “And I need you to get out of that chair, because my friend Maria will be back any—“

You glance around, only to see your very friend Maria, waving wildly at you from across the room, sitting at a table that very much was the one you were at prior to leaving for the rest room. 

“Oh!—that’s odd…”

Ok finally, she’s gonna —

“Why the hell is Maria sitting at the wrong table??”

He lets out an incredulous sight. “Lady, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You turn back to him, tilting your head like a curious dog. He feels like he’s hanging on the edge of his chair, just trying to piece together what could possibly be going through your too-busy mind.

You take a look over to her again, then to the current table. Then again to her.

Which leaves you… sitting here…. With....

“Oh fuck… I’m so sorry!” You whisper, and now you’re full of embarrassment, face flush warm. 

You tumble out of the chair and rush over to Maria, who’s giggling and looking back at Joel while you slam your face into your hands onto the correct table.

Joel just watches you for a moment, still stunned. A little flustered. Strangely… entertained?  

You kept peeking your eye through your fingers, before trying to burry yourself into the menu. All while your friend Maria howled at your utter mis-founded confidence.

Joel grins slightly to himself, not really sure why he’s also finding it a bit funny. You were kinda—

“Why’d you pick this place again?”

Joel jumps a little, his glass of water nearly tumbling over as Tommy slinks down into the seat in front of him.

“What?”

“Was Jackie’s full again? You forgot to make a reservation there, didn’t you?” He asks nonchalantly, tucking his napkin into his lap with a casual slouched posture. None the wiser that Joel’s mind is completely sidetracked by his strange encounter with this peculiar woman just moments earlier. 

Joel tries to keep his focus on Tommy for the night, but he keeps stealing glances your way. Unfortunately, a whole host of bodies had been sat at the tables between you, leaving it impossible to see whether you were still over there or not. 

By the end of the night, when Joel stood up, he lets out a disappointed grunt: Your table had already been cleared, and you were gone.

Joel grasped his jacket, letting Tommy out to his truck first. “Sorry it wasn’t Jackie’s,” he groans, closing the door for his little brother, all buckled in and hanging his arm out the window.

“S’alright. Was a good night to pretend to be rich bitches.” He nods with his cap and a honk honk. “Drive safe, brother.”

“Happy birthday, fucker,” Joel retorts just as Tommy pulls out and disappears into the night.

The place is about to close up, only few stragglers at the bar left. He jingles his keys in his hands, pausing at his the junction between the restaurant entrance and his truck.

He looks back at the window table that you were seated in.

“S’cuse me,” he interrupts the host, who’s wiping down menus.

“Is it possible to make another reservation?”

“Sure. How far in advance?”

“1 year from now, exactly this date and time?”

She peers up to him with a raised brow.

-

1 year later

“What the fuck do you mean you forgot to Make a reservation to Jackie’s… again?” Tommy asks, walking in fancy rich bitch restaurant with Joel.

“I kinda liked our meal here last time…” he starts, trying to reason that he didn’t … intentionally forgoe his own little brother’s birthday for his own means. Tommy hasn’t even noticed that Joel’s attention is entirely on scanning the restaurant  

“That’s great… but save this shit for your birthday.”

As the two wait for the hostess to seat them, Tommy leans closer to Joel’s shoulder, giving a slight inhale.

“Did you … shower before you came here?”

“Yeah?”

Tommy raises his brow. Joel’s the type to usually grunt the entire day in one go before showering to bed. “And your hairs combed.”

“So? That a crime?” Joel brushes him off, looking around the restaurant again as casual as he can fake it.

Tommy sways on his heels, glancing down from his side eyes. “Shirt’s ironed in too.”

“Tommy, we gotta look the part here…”

“No we don’t. We eat. We pay. We leave. Who you tryin’ to impress other than my stomach?”

Joel shakes his head with a hearty laugh.

Was Joel staking his brother’s birthday on the hope that you would be here again? Cmon, that’s ridicul—

Maybe. 

But as the two of them are escorted to their table, Joel did another lap of eye scan around the room before sitting down, all the doubts flooded.

You weren’t here.

What if you were just here randomly that one day? What if you were just visiting from out of town? What if you came once and never came again? He bet this entire night on an assumption that you were celebrating something on this specific date, but there was absolutely no indication that you were doing anything but having a night out with a friend.

Oh shit, what if that was your girlfriend??? Oh shitshitshit.

Wait, no, you said that M chick (he doesn’t even remember her name) was your friend.

Oh--what if you had a boyfriend by now?

What if you did walk in that door right now, but you were  holding hands with some rich pompous skinny ass college educated schmuck, all smiling and clinging to him like he’s the world, and Joel’s here desperately searching for you when you don’t even know him—

—“Who the fuck are you looking at?” Tommy asks, waving his hand in front of Joel after trying to look around the room in vain for whatever’s got his big brother’s attention.

— and then there’s the fact that Joel hasn’t been on a date in six… seven? Years? His last serious relationship ended because he wanted to settle down and she wanted to keep exploring options. I mean, he got it. They were really young at the time. He didn’t really know anything else. Instead, he spent all this time buried in trainings and apprenticeships and certification courses to be able to get to where he is now…and that left no room for even looking at women.

So why the fuck is he here trying to look for you ??

“Joel!” Tommy shouts, kicking him under the table.

“Shit, sorry.” He shakes his head and takes a long swig of beer.

“Sorry. Just—feeling off today.”

“I bet.” Tommy leans forward, putting his hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re alright?”

He nods. Fuck. He’s here for Tommy’s birthday. A birthday he wasted on this shitty place, banking on a girl he doesn’t even know the name of, and pretending to be a brother. God. He’s terrible. Joel downs the rest of his alcohol in one go, clearing his mind of you once and for all. 

“I’m good Tommy. Let’s celebrate tonight.”

Tommy holds up his beer bottle. “To one year of Millers Co.”

“Fuckin cheers to that.” They clinks bottles with a grin.

Joel looks to his right, by chance, and his entire body freezes, blood draining and then revitalizing itself over his veins in a nanosecond.

You’re putting your hair up in a pony tail, smiling and chatting enthusiastically at the same table you were at exactly a year ago. It’s like not a day has passed. You have that same confident aura, like the world is circling you, without really trying. Maybe its just Joel, because aside from your friend you’re seated with, he’s the only one who’s entire world is focused on you.

He should stop staring. Fuck this is weird. Is it weird? But he can’t. He’s worried he’s dreaming, and if he takes his eyes off you again, you’ll disappear for another year. Wait, he’s imagining this right? He didn’t wish you into existence again? There’s no way you’re seated at the exact same table again. But your outfit is different. So maybe this is real?

Joel could feel Tommy trying to talk to him again, but his brain was utter mush. Instead of scanning the room, his focus was directed in a single spot this time, and Tommy could finally make contact with what exact has got his big brother so distracted.

He didn’t really get it, but Joel wasn’t giving any answers in this state.

Joel shakes himself from his trance, worried Tommy is gonna finally pinpoint and—where’s Tommy?

His seat is completely empty, and Joel panics momentarily that Tommy just straight up left him after being ignored for ten minutes.

Worse than that, Joel finally spots Tommy—heading over to talk to you and your friend.

“Heeeeyyy, ladies, I’m Tommy.” He smiles warmly.

“Um, Hi,” you nod with a polite smile. 

“’m sorry to bother your dinner, but my brother, god bless him, has been starin’ at ya from across the room—“ he points to Joel’s direction momentarily—“ and you either cut him off in traffic this mornin’, or he thinks you’re cute and is too shy to come over here to tell ya.”

SHITSHITSHIT SHUTthefuckupTOMMYOHMYFUCKINGGOD.

Joel’s feet kick straight down on their own accord, knocking the table hard as he stands and causing people around him to stare.

He speed walks over there, not sure what his next move is: kiss you or strangle Tommy or some weird dance combination of both. 

He doesn’t have time to think it over because now he’s here, standing there, like a baboon, as you, Tommy, and your friend blink directly at him, awaiting him to say something. 

 He needs to say something.

Something…

Anything…

Why isn’t he speaking

Your smile falters a little, eyes narrowed in. He feels himself shrink inside.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, pointing at him. “You’re that guy—“

Oh fuck she does remember me—!

“—that sat at my table last year!”

She doesn’t remember jack shit.

“I—lady, you sat at my table,” he argues defensively. Holy shit wait why is he getting defensive? Maybe because, holy fuck, how could you get that mixed up… Again???

You purse your lips and let out a little laugh. “Um. No. You came and sat at my table. I’m pretty sure I would remember something like that.”

You’re just as cocksure as yourself as you were last time.

He could get used to that.

“What was it—“ you tap your lower lip with your fingers, eyes drifting in though. “Oh! Joel!”

Oh … the way you say his name… he could definitely get used to that.

There’s a brief pause before you begin:

“So… you’re here again?”

“I take my brother here every year… for his birthday,” Joel blurts out.

“More like accidentally take me here—“ Tommy falls short, looking back at you… now realizing this time maybe wasn’t an accident on Joel’s part. 

He’ll remember to kick Joel in the nuts later. But right now, his brother’s cartoonishly obvious heart shaped eyes are still locked on you, so he rolls with it.

“Yeah we’re celebrating… our own thing too,” Maria muses, nodding towards you. You roll your eyes playfully, knowing she’s too bashful to admit it.

“She graduated law a couple years ago,” you gloat, beaming at your impressive friend, who’s shrinking under the weight of her embarrassment. “So we’ve made it our little tradition.”

Joel opens his mouth and wishes he used his brain: “We can make it all our tradition from now on.”

The four of you go awkwardly silent, and it almost feels like the whole restaurant went quiet too and is staring at Joel.

Oh God, he should just tuck his tail and walk right out the door right now and leave town and—

You’re the first to let out a giggle, covering your mouth and scrunching your eyes and nose as you try to hide your cute laugh.

Oh fuck. He can definitely get used to that.

Tommy’s gonna give himself a massive pat on the back for this next move.

“Maria, was it?” He asks your friend. “Would you like to join me to get a drink?” He motions towards the bar.

Maria glances at you, now seeing you and Joel are staring at one another, uninterrupted, completely enamored. Shits not on pause. You two are just fuckin’…frozen at each other like little smiling elf statues.

“Yes I would. Tommy, right?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She links arms with him and the two of them begin: “so you come to this dump to celebrate?” “It’s my favorite?” “Oh mine too!” Leaving you and Joel alone.

“Uhh…” 

“Do you want—sit?” You ask awkwardly.

Joel takes Maria’s seat. 

“Looks like you’re coming to sit at my table instead,” you snicker.

“So you admit it then: you sat at mine last year.”

You smile, readjusting your napkin on your lap. “I have a hard time admitting when I’m wrong. It’s a stubborn thing.”

“Mmm. Picked up on that.”

You both laugh. You bite your lip before smoothing the tablecloth. 

“Joel,” you whisper, and god it feels really good all over his spine when you say his name.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. I just… like saying your name. It fits you really well. Joel.”

He grins broadly, licking his lower lip and staring at you again with those big, gorgeous brown orbs. Even his voice feels…right. You have no idea how or why. He just feels so…right. 

You tilt your head to the side, studying him. “You look … a little different.”

Joel clears his throat, unsure if that is a good thing or bad thing.

“Wait let me just—“ 

But you don’t wait, instead you’re already reaching your delicate fingers over the table and sifting them through his hair, ruffling his curls out of their perfectly combed place, watching as they tumble messily over one another until they’re bouncing all brown and natural under the low light.

“That’s better. Yeah, I remember that for sure.” You nod to yourself with a little grin that has him blushing harder than Santa on Christmas.

It’s radiant, it’s contagious, it’s sincere.

You offer him your name, and he repeats it with that low timbre that gives you goosebumps.

Oh, you could get used to him for sure.

-

Four Dates Later...

The puss puss is screaming his name already.

You had always told yourself you would never surrender the flower to man in no less than 6 dates first. But fuck… Joel’s… really something.

You’re seated at his bar stool in his house, swaying your feet with your arms crossed, watching him work like a wizard. He’s making something really really good, and as far as you can tell, something really close to home. you had both shared half a bottle of wine on his couch while he talked about his brother, how he plays guitar sometimes, his company. He listened intently as you shared your movie taste, how oh so different you are from your mom he’d yet to meet, and the best food spots in town.

You also promised you wouldn’t spend an evening like this at a guy’s house so quickly either but… Joel’s really something. 

He makes you feel warm and fuzzy, in that gooey icky way you used to make fun of your friends for. He makes you feel safe and protected, and you almost want to start shit with him just to get him to tackle you down and put a baby in you right here—oh my god what is happening to you??

“Remember that time you sat at my table—“

He pauses to face you, eyes peering from his brows with a growl. “Don’t start with me, girl.”

Mmmmm girl. The way he says it is like hot sugar and sprinkles. Yes. Yes you wanted to get used to this ASAP.

Three homemade empanadas later, and you were sold.

-

As you tumble onto his bed, Joel and your lips can’t break up enough for you to get through a sentence before he’s sucking you back in. The alcohol swims in your system just as hot as the lust that had been dampening your legs all night—or the last few weeks for that matter.

“Just—just so you know… I know first time sex isn’t always great—scratch that. Its never great—“

He stops, his shirt halfway up his head. “You’ve never had sex before?” He asks softly, almost fearfully, like he’s done a horrible thing and not taken you to a hotel and bought you a car and—

“No! I meant first time with a new partner,” you clarify, helping him hoist the rest of that shirt over because you couldn’t be tortured to wait any longer for this view.

My oh my… what a view.

His chest is smooth, clearly undisturbed by any hair, and his belly is soft. But with each movement, you can see the flex of muscle ripping underneath. He has a worker’s body, true to his craft, not some jacked up gymbro bod that gloats his benchpress PR but couldn’t carry a bag of sand on one shoulder. His belly ends in a gorgeously light trail of hair, leading down like the Hairy Brick Road to disappear underneath his belt line, right to your long awaited prize…

He’s staring down at you as you lick your lips greedily, seemingly unaware that you had paused your conversation.

“You hungry for something?” He asks sincerely under a chuckle. “Can make ya more empanadas right now if ya too distracted—“

“Shut up and take these off.” you start undoing his button and zipper of his jeans.

He grins, leaning over to capture your lips as you do work to shimmy his pants off. You feel him push you down gently on your back, expecting him to crawl up and grasp you as he positions his dick between your legs.

 Instead, he hooks the bend of your back knee over his shoulders, crawling down—

You freeze, holding his arm so he doesn’t slip any further. “Woah—don’t think I expect you to go down on me.”

“But I—“

“Because I know … all the guys before don’t do that the first time with a new partner, or even second or third, and like… Listen I…” you start rambling, eyes searching everywhere but his own. “I already like you…so I don’t want you…pretending for me… going out of your way for…if its not a given—especially on the first—“ 

He pulls up, grasps your face in his clutch and kisses you, drawing out all of your thoughts. 

“You talk a lot when ya nervous,” he hums against your nose before pressing another kiss there. You both stare at one another. he could see your eyes were vulnerable, like it’s the first time your guard is being torn down by someone without your permission. Like you’re genuinely caught naked in your underwear.

He slithers closer to you, making you lie further back on the bed again until your bodies glide together. His breath ghosts over your lips, and you can feel your heart already palpitating from the sheer sense of control he’s grasped from you naturally. “S’okay. I like listening to you. Keep going.”

He descends lower, lips trailing kisses, hooded eyes never leaving yours.

What happened to that shy, awkward lump of a cutie who was too afraid to approach your table to say hi? He’s certainly not the strong, capable, confident wolf in front of you about to devour you whole…

“R-really,” you mumble, wanting to bring your mind back to why you’re nervous—shit are you nervous here? “You don’t… have to do it…to impress me. I’m already impressed—“

 He huffs into your mound. “I ain’t doin it to impress ya, I’m doinnit because I wanna eat your pussy. Been dyin’ to for weeks now. Do men not normally go down on you on the first chance they get?” He asks, genuinely curious. As if it’s a shock to him that you don’t get your pussy ate every single waking minute of the day.

You stare at him slack jawed. He says it as if… as if… he does this every time….because he actually does it every time….

You feel a gush of slick ooze out of your cunt. “Get your fucking head down there and start eating,” you command.

He smirks, “There she is—that’s the one I like—“ before biting your thighs gently and nuzzling his nose between your folds. 

Okay, shit, it’s happening. At the very least, even if he’s had practice, it may not even be good. He can’t tick all boxes, right? Yeah, this one thing, he’s probably terrible at. Shit, bet he’s just bluffing just to—

“Do me this once, baby.” His teeth softly sink into the fat of your inner thigh.

You’re already jittery and hazy, anxious and aroused, heavy lidded as your ears perk enough to try to listen.

“Let yourself have this one,” he whispers, eyes trained on you as he kisses the bite mark he left.

“Oh? You…seem cocksure of yourself…” you tease. Even if he’s good, he’d make a fine boyfriend for sure—

Your bravado quickly disappears as he flattens his hot tongue through your slit, sliding the tip against your entrance before pursing his lips, sucking in your sensitive clit with a kiss—

Holy fucking shit he wasn’t bluffing.

He pulls away with a suckle, and you just barely can focus your eyesight on him: the audacity of his baby brown eyes staring up at you with raised, curious, innocent gleam as his lips and nose shine with your arousal.

“S’that okay with you?”

You open your mouth, unable to form words. in fact, it’s the first time in your life that you have effectively been shut up, let alone by a man. He turned your brain into mush, your body floating between space and heaven, but your soul plated right here, underneath his gaze, his hands, his lips, his tongue—

He waits for your answer, warm steady air blowing from his nose to your quivering cunt.

You only gulp, mouth closing in submission.

A wide smirk creeps over his face. Now that’s what she’s like when she’s quiet. He seems to like that he’s shut you up; especially the way your brows knit close together as he drags his tongue through your petals again, over and over like a giddy boy enjoying his melting ice cream. 

When he disappears again between your legs, you grasp your mouth with your hand, eyeballs rolling back as you already feel your core shake.

I’m gonna marry him I’m gonna marry him I’m gonna marry him, you chant like a mantra in your head.

And for 40 more minutes, Joel Miller ate you out like a fucking Goddess.

You were spasming randomly, letting out desperate chokes and groans. After the first orgasm, you gave up on the silent treatment. Letting him hear your praises as you came again, and then again, and three more times.

You had never had so many orgasms in a 40 minute span like that in your life.

He’d inhale deeply through his nostrils, burying himself in your mound before increasing the pace of his tongue. Flicking your clit then diving inside, thrusting and twisting. Suckling out your juices and then coaxing you with his fingers deep inside when you started to quiver. He’d lock eyes on you every so often, making sure you were comfortable for the ride. 

He knew he would be addicted when he first watched you cum. It only got more insatiable with each one after that.

“Holy f-fuck—“you whine as he sucks your folds in one final time before releasing with a loud smack. “I—I could get used to that.”

He grins, falling down next to you. He takes deep breaths with you, as if having swam across the ocean alongside your marathon run. 

The two of you just sat there. Calming your breaths. Your eyes to the ceiling. 

His on you.

He strokes your arm with his fingertips. Up and down, soothingly and gentle. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, and it kinda scares him. Maybe you were done. Maybe you had that post orgasmic bliss, and were ready to kick him out. Maybe—

“So … how do you want me?” You ask, biting your lips. Your hand is already on his chest, itching for more.

His eye dart to your lips one last time, his tongue swiping out. He leans forward and begins kissing you again. The two of you roll over, with him above you. You can feel the press of his hard length against your inner thigh, making you squeak. 

He pulls out, his nose nudging yours. “Where I can see you,” he pants.

Joel shreds his last remaining article of clothing.

Yeah, this is it, you think. He makes up for bad sex by eating you out five times. There’s no way. Not that dick size matters of course. You weren’t gonna mention anything by it. That’s just…. Rude. No, it really matters how you use it. So even if he’s moderately big, which you’re sure he isn’t—

His throbbing, girthy member slaps wetly against his belly button.

“Fucking Christ, Joel Miller,” you gasp, eyes a little too wide. It pulses deliciously, veiny and mushroomed. “What the fuck do you feed that thing?”

Oh shit, what was that about not saying anything?

“I mean, its’ like—you look—it’s--“ you shut your trap and just give him two thumbs up.

He pauses, blinking at you before chuckling.

Oh my god, please kill me.

“Okay. That’s — I’ll take that.” He tears open the condom and spread it over his head. 

There’s a tiny bit of you that feels a bit of disappointment as he rolls it down his length; the part of you that wants to take a massive leap with this man right now and do it raw. 

Hell no. fuck, that’s definitely not a 4th date move. Though, coming to his house and having sex right after dinner was also not a date 4 move either… 

He crawls back over you, his forearms planted by your head. Joel reaches down to grasp his cock. At the same time, you instinctively lift your legs, your thighs resting over his hips.

“We fit so beautifully together, huh?” He whispers, kissing your cheek.

You nod. 

“You tell me if anything feels off, okay? Even if ya—“

You had snatched the base of his length, causing him to gasp and swallow his words. Effortlessly, you drag his head through your folds, slicking it up with your arousal before notching it at your entrance.

Joel grasps your face with both hands and seals his lips over you as the two of you work his cock inside your hole. 

Even with his tongue tracing over yours, he doesn’t let you go. You moan deliciously into his mouth as he forces himself inside, inch by inch, slowly. Your pussy had been stretched and worn perfectly from his eating moments ago, making the stretch to accomodate his girth only pleasurable. 

There’s no words. No snarky remark. Just the shared breath between you two. The blurred background except the vision of one another so close. The sounds of your synced, pounding hearts bursting through your chests. 

He was so quiet. Tense. Still.

He looked so deep in concentration, like something was hurting him, like he was straining himself. He was so chatty a minute ago...had you done something wrong?

You open your mouth to speak, but Joel beats you to it.

“I’m —I’m gonna cum already—fuck—gimme a minute,” he finally rasps, closing his eyes tightly. His ears are flushed red as he remains completely still inside, the vein in his neck ready to burst from concentration. The poor man was so embarrassed that he might cum immediately, totally ruining any chance to impress you—

“I’m already cumming,” you whine, shifting your hips to get him to gently tap that spot inside that has you clenching around him. “With me?”

The motion sets him over the edge.

Both your jaws drop open in o’s as you orgasm together, pulsing, a mere 3 seconds into motionless sex. 

His sweaty forehead falls to your chest. “Shit—shit—I—I’ve—I swear—“

“That—was so hot,” you whisper with a big smile on your face. Joel looks up at you: your eyes dark, biting your lips with a wicked grin as you look over his face, your hand playing with his ear. “More?” You ask softly with big curious eyes.

He fell a little more in love with you, if it were even possible. 

You had sex again, this time a little more paced out. Joel was determined to focus on you this time, though you doubted he had considered his even once at this point. All he knew was that he wanted to feel you squeeze around his cock forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums. “So beautiful when you cum.”

You moan desperately, coming back down from your umpteenth climax of the night. he sucked his thumb clean after having rubbed your swollen numb to get you there. You had one ankle hooked around his lower back, pulling him back in with each thrust.

“You—you’re right,” you swallow. “We do fit so well together.” 

The both of you laugh, eyes crinkled. 

You sigh, winding your arms around his neck. “I can’t wait to do this without a condom.”

He grips your thighs tightly, stuttering for a moment. “Fuck—don’t say that—don’t get me thinking’ bout how good you’re gonna feel raw—shit no can’t—can’t think—no fuck now Im thinkin it—its too good—“

“Yeah? You think about filling me up already? On our first time?”

“I’m warnin’ you, lady. Don’t get me started.”

You let out a loud moan as he started pounding you harder, your skin slapping one another. 

“Fuck—thank you Tommy—“ you start.

“Don’t moan my brother’s name when I’m inside you.”

You tighten your lips and nod.

“Want ya spread out on my pillow like this every night.” He sifts his fingers through your hair, watching the way it parts for him. “Want you sayin’ my name like a prayer. Need your cum on my tongue and my fingers and cock to keep me warm. I don’t think I can go back to—fuck—I need more of you--“

He keeps thrusting into your sopping heat with such precision. Neither too fast nor slow. Enough that the two of you could enjoy, savor, explore. 

“I want it,” you whisper softly, only for him to hear. You wrap yourself around him closer as he fucks you slow, deep, calculated, passionately.

Maybe both of you were thinking it then: You knew you would have the rest of your lives for it all.

By the time you had finished, and third condom wrapped and tossed in the bin, you were exhausted. You couldn’t even raise your head for the first few minutes. Joel too was whipped. He laid in bed with your head spread atop his chest, leg hooked over his stomach. Your sweaty body sticking to one another with the  fan blasting down on your back. You could feel him tracing patterns on your naked back. Like he was telling your body to accept his touch because it wouldn’t be leaving you any time soon.

You were so close to drifting to sleep. Letting out little hums here and there as he rubbed your head with occasional kisses. 

“Mbesr empapamda,” you mumbled into the pillow.

“What?”

You sat up slightly, hair messy already from his ministrations. Your eyes were half asleep already as you mumbled with a smirk: “Would you make me more empanadas some day again, Joel?’

He chuckled. “I’d make em everyday if you asked.”

You nuzzled your nose into his neck before finally closing your eyes.

-

You both slept the best night of your lives. 

Joel initially woke up around 6am. When his vision settled, the low light of the morning sun just barely filtering in, his eyes settled on your sleeping form. Your hand rested on the pillow in front of you.

He knew it then. The sight of you right here, warming his bed, his soul, his kitchen, his heart, his body… Joel Miller knew he was going to marry you. 

Obviously not something he’ll be mentioning for a while, but something that morning clicked. He was already tracing the empty space on your ring finger. How nice a ring would look there. How nice it would be to wake up like this every morning. To see you. The first thing to greet him each day just like this.

In that moment, Joel felt like he had to give you something of his. It was an urge he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t quite place exactly why or what it is. But it forced him out of the bed silently and away to his work bench without a second thought.

-

“Hey, you,” he whispers.

“Nmmmm,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes again. You wipe your face with both palms. your voice sounds like gravel stuck in your throat as you mutter a very unsexy, “Heyyy.”

“I uh—“ he clears his throat. “This is for you.”

You eyes flutter open as he presents a tiny wooden carving of a butterfly. The details were rough but smoothed and you could immediately tell it was hand crafted. Upon closer inspection, you could see it had your initials carved into the body.

You sat up, blinking rapidly. “Did...did you just… make that?”

“Yeah.” the tips of his cheeks instantly reddened. “Woke up a couple hours ago and thought…well you looked…it seemed…It’s not super good I’m still—anyway, wanted to gift ya something…”

“Just now?”

“An hour ago. I came back to bed. But saw your hair falling a bit when you were resting so—“ He had just started getting the knack of crafting wood so it really looked amateurish. He felt stupid now, after spending two hours on it hunched at his desk while you slept upstairs in his bed. 

He takes it gently into his hand and flips it, revealing a metal hairclip that had been glued on. 

“May I?”

You nod, eyes sparkling with joy. Maybe you didn’t know any better, but it definitely looked like you thought it was the most beautifully carved piece of art you’d ever seen.

Joel gently fastens it into your hair before cupping along your cheek.

“Does it look good?” You ask.

“Amazin’.”

You smile again. Fuck, he wanted to see that smile every day from now on. He was officially smitten. “I can make ya all kinds of things. Well, eventually. I’m still workin’ on it, just started getting into carving so they’re not perfect yet but--“

“Can you show me?”

It was his turn to blink at you.

“Now?”

“Yeah! Unless you had something else you needed to do this morning…I can totally get out of your hair if—“

“Nope, you stay right here, I’m gonna—“

He stumbles out of bed and quickly closes the door behind him.

His workbench was a fucking mess and definitely not date-show ready. You could hear him banging things, scraping counters of knickknacks and bolts into drawers and doing his best to clean.

Biting your lip, you whip out your phone and called Maria on face time.

She answered, eye mask pulled up her face. “What? Oh bitch, I know you ain’t already sleep at J—“

“LOOK AT WHAT MY JOEL MADE ME!!” You squeal, showing off the hair pendant. You kicked your feet in the air excitedly, all the calm bravado you had kept at bay finally spewing over to show off what a man he was.

Joel sat on the other side of the door, listening. He had almost collapsed against from internally swooning so hard at your ‘my Joel’ comment.

He was going to make you so much shit if it meant you could call him “mine” again.

And he did. After a hot cup of tea and some avocado toast, you sat at his stool next to his work bench as he quietly did his work. You were wearing one of his t shirts, hair still a little messy, but ever so cute. Sometimes he’d tell you a little bit about the wood, the technique he’s testing, how many times he’s cut a finger. He’d worry he was boring you, but when he’d look up, all he saw were your shining, eager, attentive eyes on him, and it made his heart flutter faster than the mind blowing sex from last night.

He didn’t know he was doing it but the embarrassment on his face when he realized he had carved an o—a fucking wooden ring—and was holding it out to you.

You quickly pulled your necklace and strung it on the metal chain, clasping it back around your neck. “I love it,” you beam, holding it in your palm as you inspected it on your chest.

You were both thinking it:

I could get used to this.

-

Ten Years Later…

Something stinks.

So heinous, it forces him awake rather abruptly. His eyes adjust, the dull pain in his back reminding him he’s still alive. The blankets are hot and heavy over his body. 

Joel blinks, rubbing his tired, baggy eyes. 

The first thing that comes into focus are two fat pudgy baby feet stuck right up his nose. He looks down to see its connected to his little Ellie, who had somehow managed to fall asleep upside down, her bum up in the air like a downward dog.  Next to her was Sarah, this one rightside up, and face smashed into the pillow. Her crazy hair is scattered everywhere. Below her was the new pup, Rutabaga, snoring on his back and kicking his paws in the air as if chasing through the clouds. His tail occasionally smacked Ellie in the head, though it didn’t stir her at all. Joel followed down the bed: Spoon sat with her head perched agains a set of legs. Her eyelids twitched as she utters a sleepy sigh.

Those lets went all the way back up the bed, on the far end, connected to the one who made all this extra space on the bed go to good use. Joel’s lips stretch into a wide grin when he finally falls on you. 

You were sleeping so peacefully. It was like no time had changed. 

The bed may be different. The room, the covers and sheets. His body was thicker, more worn. Hands more calloused. Eyes heavier, voice deeper. And you. Your hair was different now. So was your own body, in so many ways that continued to amaze him. You had grown some bags too under those pretty eyes, new muscle in new places, and some pudge in others. 

But you were still you. The girl he fell in love with so many years ago.

He still hadn’t gotten used to any of it at all. And he’s happy. 

“Hey you,” you whisper, smiling at him across the bed. You sputter out Sarah’s hair that had been tickling your nose, patting it down to get a good look at your husband.

“Busy night?” He teases, gesturing to the very crowded bed that wasn’t there before he shut his eyes.

You giggle, tossing an arm over all of them and hugging them tight. “I love it.”

The wooden butterfly clip would sometimes be the pendant on your suit. Sometimes the clip to hold your hair, other times to hold Sarah’s or Ellies. Shit, you’d even put it in Joel’s whenever you would give him a curled blow out during his forced spa days with you.

Right now, it sat on your bedside table, right on the lamp’s base. 

The wooden ring? 

He kept taking it back. Tinkering. Adding a design for each year you’d spent together. What started as a crude, plain, smooth band now had the tinniest etches of details, including hearts, the initials of each family member, butterflies and flowers, even a dog paw. It had become the one thing as old as the relationship itself, and the most sacred of items.

Joel had eventually built you a chair, desk, table, shit even the headboard was custom made. He built your house, the girls’ cribs, rocking horses, duck barn, dog hammocks, kitchen stools, you name it. If it was wood, it was Joel’s. And each and every one crafted with love, for you, for always.

Yeah. This was it. This was his life. And that made his heart warm brighter and swell bigger every day for the last ten years.

The two of you stared at one another with faint smiles. The rest of your family was heavily sleeping between you. But even now, He could see it in your eyes. Always so pensive, always so expressive. He’s gotten quite good at understanding you through them. 

This morning, they say, “Thank you for giving me this gift.”

Our Family.

- - - -

Taglist

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[unlucky-rose]

pspsps heyyy you made sprite edits for your oc right ⁉️ unless im misremembering in which case tjis is gonna b embarrassing af but UM

h. i don’t know how to do sprite exits do you have any tips ?? or something ??? i wanna make my own for another blog

Yeah I did! I kinda forget I don't really post about it on here that much bleh

Okay! So, first I think you gotta decide what game you wanna base your sprites on. I picked DR2 so most of my advice is gonna be based on that game- but each game has a slightly different way of making sprites (though DR1&2 are more similar). For example, DRV3's sprites are usually more detailed and use thinner lines compared to DR2.

Ex:

I use multiple DR2 characters as bases, but it's mostly for body position- and hands... grr

For shading, I picked a light grey color and used the multiply filter for the clothes, hair, and eyes, but for the skin, I used a lighter skin tone so there was more color to the skin. Fold shading is a bit odd, so keep in mind where your light source will be for the sprite (for all sprites it's either on the right or left).

The sprites can help inform where you need to put folds and shading, but honestly sometimes just wing it and draw them where it feels right (or look at irl references).

For hair, you're going to want to group them into sections and divide them by a few lines. With Chiaki above, she has rectangles of hair that are split up by shorter lines (front hair) and dividing lines (back hair). This isn't a hard rule (I mean look at Hajime and Komaeda), but multiple characters do have this detail and it gives the appearance there are more hair strands. Also, shade along these lines.

Eyes are another thing. Every character has unique eyes. Girls typically have eyelashes, but again not a hard rule (shuichi 💙). Also, the line of shading over the iris is always near the pupil (slightly above or below). It's really up to you how you wanna draw your character's eyes otherwise!

Referring to game sprites will help in general, but fan sprites can also give inspo if you can't find what you're looking for in game sprites.

Almost forgot to mention that the sprites are kinda messy if you take a closer look! Honestly I think they may have just cleaned up messy sketches to make the line art, but I forget to do that myself cause my brain wants perfect lines. So you can definitely shortcut sometimes and be messy. If it was good enough for the official game, it's good enough for tumblr ^^

Here's the texture I use to overlay onto Nitsumi's clothes and hair, you may wanna adjust the size and compare it to DR2 sprites.

Also in case you use ibispaintx, I use this brush, 0.3-0.4 for smaller details like hair and folds, 0.5 for the outer outline of a character.

Good luck! Tag me if you post them! :D

[gen-ramc-2040]

Welcome to Gen R.A.M.C!

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

This thing on? Ah okay!

Hello! My name is Murasaki Donatello! My family just calls me Mura though which is fine. I like tech, art, botany, lettering and writing! My pronouns are tech/they/it! Aro-spec Ace!

Almost forgot to mention I'm a spiny softshell turtle! Pa says it's the same as his brother which is cool!

( ooc posts will be tagged as Mod Donnie! Nice to meet you!) (Separate Tumblr @donni3-dreamz )

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Hello!! :3 I'm Antonio! I like cats and pink and dark magic. My pronouns are she and her. Hope we get along!

(ooc post will be tagged as mod!Cat. Hope you enjoy the blog owo) (seperate acc @sup-its-cat)

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Is this thing working? Can you read what I’m typing?

Hey— Ren here! But my siblings call me Ren! Because that’s my name…

Sorry sorry, I should just do what my other siblings did.

I like Birds, the colours blue and pink and music. (To listen to, I’m embarrassed to sing)

I’m a River cooter I think? That’s what dad said I was.

I’m not really sure on what comes next here, so I guess? Bye for now?

Wait, Mura, which picture are you using again?

(Occ posts will be tagged with Mod!Sobble. Thanks for stopping by!)(Separate acc @sobblemyson)

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HELLO!!!! I'm Chita and im four-teen... umm

OH

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I like coffee cakes and any neon color! AND- (I almost forogt) My pops says i'm a Ouachita Map Turtle. Its great to meet y'all and i hope to see you... well, sometime soon maybe? :)

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(hello hello! I'm Kra or Mod Smile and it's nice to meet you. I'm the man behind the character Chita and use any pronouns! You can find me right here on tumblr at @nameissmile! hope to see you around :D)

(And welcome to the Insanity, we hope you enjoy your stay

-xoxo Kra)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again. 

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized. 

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 2

The first days of Harry staying at your house were overshadowed by Maeve’s 5th grade spelling bee victory. The fake gold medal was a mainstay around her neck for a new nights at the dinner table until she eventually forgot about it.

Luckily enough, neither of your daughters seemed to be thrown too off kilter by his presence. Maeve was just young enough to not know much about who Harry was or the band he’d been in--though she was ready and willing to brag about having a celebrity around.

CeCe--in true sibling rivalry fashion--decided to draw her own medal with crayons and ask you to cut it out so she could wear it around the house. If Maeve gets one, so do I.

With potholders on and the oven door open, you apologized. “I can’t right now, honey--give mommy a few minutes and I’ll help you.”

Harry materialized at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows raised when he said: “What do you need, CeCe?”

“I have to cut this out!” She said excitedly, running over to the drawer where the scissors were kept. She whipped them out and turned around quickly, Harry’s eyes bulging out of his head when he hurried over to grab them from her.

“I’ll cut, you watch,” he laughed, exchanging a look with you when CeCe climbed up to sit at the island. She hummed in agreement, handed over the paper and watched as he lined it up to start snipping.

“CeCe,” he said her name inquisitively. “Is CeCe short for anything?”

“Cecilia Rose L/N,” she smiled. “Pretty, right?”

“Very pretty,” he smiled. “Same last name as your mum.”

The last part of his sentence was a statement, a quick glance in your direction when you turned off the oven and shouted towards the stairs. “Maeve! Dinner’s ready!”

Your call went unanswered into the big house--you had no clue where she was or if she’d heard you. When Harry finished cutting out the paper medal, he handed it to CeCe who beamed with pride and put it around her neck.

Hands on your hips, “CeCe, will you please find your sister and tell her dinner is ready?”

She took one big breath and then screamed, “MAEVE!”

Both you and Harry flinched at the noise but laughed. She held onto Harry’s arm when she hopped down from the stool, shaking her head in disappointment. “Good god that girl,” she huffed, heading to climb the stairs when she yelled again: Maeve!!!! Dinner!!!!

“She’s a handful tonight,” you said, almost feeling guilty as her footsteps stomped on the floor overhead. “Thank you for that, though,” you said, motioning to the scissors in his hand. “Want a glass of wine?”

“S’not against the rules?” He teased.

When you shot him a look, he smirked and let out a laugh. “I’ll gladly take one. It’s fine, though. She was ready to stab someone flinging the scissors around like that.”

“They just had scissor safety in art class not too long ago.” You told him, pulling the cork from an already open bottle of red. “Sometimes I think she barely listens to anyone--she just does her own thing.”

“Not the worst way to be,” he smiled, picked up the glass when you slid it over on the granite. An awkward beat when he took a sip, smiled in your direction when you did the same. You could hear Maeve and CeCe fighting upstairs, offered him another guilty smile, but then he asked: “do you plan on changing your name?”

“My last name?”

“Yeah--L/N is your married name, right?”

It felt a bit nosy, a bit intrusive for the fourth night he was sleeping under your roof. You shrugged your shoulders casually, unsure how to answer. “Just haven’t gotten to it.”

He’d been quiet so far, out most of the day once the girls were gone for school and he’d return before dinner. Kept to himself--or at least out of the way--and was always helpful when he could be. Bringing groceries in? He carried a few. Needed a hand with clearing plates after dinner? He would gladly help.

Maeve and CeCe came rushing downstairs and were more willing to do the gratitude thing than they usually were, forks in hand when Maeve turned to you. “Oh, by the way, Auntie Shelli is taking us out for dinner tomorrow night.”

“She is?” You smiled at Maeve. “I haven’t heard about that.”

“She promised last week, she said Friday.”

“Okay, well I can check with her.”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” Maeve asked.

“Not a thing,” you said, shaking your head. You’d been looking forward to it all week--maybe a bath and a glass of wine, maybe even a movie if you were feeling adventurous. Zoey was typically after you to do something: dinner, come hold Benny for an hour while she took a shower. You were totally up for helping a friend, but it’d been a minute since you had some me-time and if Jeff’s mom had already offered to babysit, you weren’t going to say no.

CeCe turned to Harry excitedly. “What are you doing tomorrow night? Are you coming to dinner?”

He smiled in her direction but shook his head. “I’m actually going over to a friend’s house.”

“What friend?”

“CeCe,” you laughed, embarrassed by her prying. “He doesn’t have to run everything by you, you know.”

“I know,” she said simply as she shrugged her shoulders innocently. “Just thought maybe it was one of my friends. I don’t know if we have the same friends.”

Harry laughed at this and smiled when you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think you know her.”

You watched Harry for a second, wondered if it was a girlfriend or something of the sort--Jeff hadn’t mentioned anything like that. Why couldn’t he stay there, with that friend?

“Well you should come with us and Auntie Shelli one day,” Maeve said. “We usually get ice cream and she lets us get a bunch of toppings and she doesn’t even care if we’ve had dinner yet.”

You let out a short laugh, the details of their time with family members always slipped out when you least expected it. “He’s busy, girls, remember?”

Harry shrugged, “we could get ice cream soon.”

You looked up at him, forked into a bite of dinner and said quietly: you don’t have to.

He didn’t--Harry didn’t owe you or your daughters anything except common decency and kindness. Helping you clean up after dinner or bring in the groceries was enough of a repayment for a guest room and his own bathroom.

“Maybe next week?” He ignored your comment and smiled at the girls.

“Next week!” CeCe chirped back, brushing her hair out of her face with a grin.

You figured they’d forget--swept up by the excitement of something else by the time next week rolled around and Harry would be off the hook. You smiled in his direction, apologetically and pleading, but it wasn’t until the next night that you realized he was serious.

Jeff’s mom had picked Maeve and CeCe up, you had just poured a glass of wine and went to sit in your office to go over any unread emails when he knocked on the door.

“Hey,” he offered a smile, leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” you turned to see him, unsure what he wanted or why he was popping in. “What’s up?”

“Uh, just wanted to let you know that my plans fell through--so, I’m just gonna be home--here I mean.”

His correction was quick, a subtle misstep through words.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, nodded slowly as you took in the information. He’d be here--in your house and just hanging out. While you had planned for a quiet night, having one other person somewhere in the house wouldn’t kill you, right? Maybe he’d lock himself away in his room and leave you to your emails, then you’d slip upstairs and end the night with a bath before your children returned with a sugar high and stories for days.

“Okay,” you said. A pause when he nodded, looked at you and then down to the floor.

“Do you want to have a drink?”

“I’ve got one,” you lifted your glass and then faltered. “Oh, together--sure, yeah.”

He held back a laugh, motioned for you to lead the way once you stood up from your desk. He trailed you back through the living room and into the kitchen, got himself a wine glass when you found the bottle you’d already started on the counter.

Was this weird? You couldn’t tell. The house was quiet and for a moment it felt like neither of you knew what to say when the only sound was the cork coming out of the bottle.

“I can venmo you for groceries, too, since m’drinking your wine.” He lifted it and poured, you watched the liquid rise in the glass until he looked up at you, waiting for a reply.

“No, it’s fine.”

“M’eating your food, drinking your wine, sleeping in your house,” he let out a laugh but put the stopper back in. “I feel like I could at least pay you back for some--” he looked down at the bottle and studied the label, “cabernet.”

You pulled out a barstool and sat, a sigh when you waved him off. “S’fine--I’m still making my way through the sorry your dad died and sorry your husband left you bottles.”

His lips pulled up at the side when yours did too. “Where do they make those grapes?”

“Somewhere far away from here,” you nodded, a long sip from your own glass when he moved to sit beside you.

“So how much did Jeff have to beg you to let me stay here?”

You looked over at him, hesitant to admit your own reluctance. You knew he and Jeff were close--you’d long been hearing stories about their nights out or big wins as a team. You’d even been invited to the release party for Harry’s first solo album, but you couldn’t find a babysitter and back then your ex couldn’t be bothered.

“I got a few pleading text messages after he first brought it up,” you smiled.

He laughed and nodded. “Well, it’s a big help. My house is over in Malibu but s’not ready yet--the only guestroom in Jeff’s house shares a wall with the master and something about that felt...weird.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “You didn’t want to hear Jeff and random women hooking up?”

“Not in the slightest,” he shook his head and bit back a smile. “Figured I’d stay with his parents for a bit but then Irv and Shelli told me they loved me but their rules are strict: their children, grandchildren, and your children. Those are their only guests.”

You nodded, it wasn’t news to you. “One time my dad stayed over after a party and Irv almost hit him with a golf club in the morning because he’d forgotten who was on the couch.”

“Yeah, so, sounds like a good idea that I’m here.” Quiet again when he moved the glass around, then he said: “you know, I would be happy to take them to ice cream or something one night--give you a minute to yourself.”

You smiled, the offer was sweet and apparently he had no idea that he’d just ruined your one chance this week to have that. “You really don’t have to--I’m sorry that they’re so...fascinated by you.”

“No, they’re great, very sweet. Maybe I can tag along when Jeff watches them next and learn the ropes.”

You nodded, reassured by his understanding that watching them would take skill. “There’s a lot to learn, they can be quite the handful sometimes.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his head. “Tell me more about them.”

The way he looked at you stirred a feeling in your chest that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just the fact that he seemed interested enough to ask about them, he already seemed more invested than their father had been over the last year. You also would never turn down an opportunity to humble-brag about the tiny humans you'd created.

“Well, Maeve is pretty straight-edge. She’s always cared a lot about school and she likes it--which is weird, cause she didn’t get that from me and she definitely didn’t get it from my ex-husband. Like, she actually gets excited to come home and do her homework.”

He laughed, sipped from his glass and said: “Right, I’m sure she didn’t get her drive and determination from her mother who started her own successful business.”

You brushed off the compliment with a roll of your eyes and a laugh. “The weird preteen-angst thing is new, though. I have no idea if that’s because of losing my dad or losing hers,” you picked at a thread on your sleeve.

He was quiet for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say to that.

“And CeCe,” you saved him the trouble, “she’s a fireball. She is so strong-willed it actually makes me nervous about when she’s a teenager. She might actually drive to Vegas and get married or something. It’s just her world and we’re living in it.”

His dimples appeared on his cheeks when you shrugged. “Well, you’ve clearly done something right with them. Jeff's always loved being an uncle."

“I appreciate that,” you said honestly, a pause before you admitted: “My ex was never that hands on.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Is that why things ended?”

You let out a short laugh, again unsure if you were sharing too much. Would you wake up and regret the fact that you'd poured a glass of wine, and apparently your deepest secrets, all out on display?

“That, along with the fact that he was cheating on me for a good 18 months, I think.”

“Wow,” he nodded slowly, his lips pushed out in thought when he dropped your gaze. “What a dick.”

“Yeah, better I found out now than later on, I guess.”

“So that and losing your dad this year--”

“Yeah it’s been shitty,” you cut him off, another sip of your wine to avoid having to say more. He looked at your glass, now nearing empty, and reached for the bottle.

“Then you definitely deserve another one of these,” he laughed, fingers pulling the cork out again. “No wonder you got so many sympathy wine bottles.”

He poured himself another too, eventually he followed you into your dad’s old office when he asked what hid behind the mystery door on the first floor.

It was the only room you hadn’t redone yet, something about keeping his records on the book shelves and his papers on the desk felt like it kept him here. He’d chosen the green for the walls and you apologized when Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the sight.

“Great man,” you nodded, turning on a light switch, “terrible decorating taste.”

Harry nodded slowly, wine glass still in hand and a smirk fighting it’s way onto his face. “S’a bright color, yeah.”

He let out a laugh when he made eye contact with you, a disapproving look on your face when you walked over to the desk. “All these strewn about--probably some important information about you over here somewhere.”

He came over and lifted a paper. “Harry Styles is one of the most thoughtful, caring, and funny people I know.”

“Really?” You tugged at his arm to get a better view of the paper. Your dad’s handwriting was almost illegible, a date scribbled on top and another few words halfway down the small notebook page, nothing about Harry and nothing that seemed all that important.

“I hope that’s what he thought of me,” Harry smiled, his eyes flickered to where you still had a grip around his wrist. “Your nails are digging into me.”

“Sorry,” you pulled back immediately. “Sometimes I have to grab CeCe like that in the store or she runs off.”

He kept your gaze for a second, but it felt uncomfortable and made you nervous, so you cleared your throat. “Feel free to come in here and use this stuff,” you motioned over to the piano and the guitars he had in stands. “No one uses it, so--it’d be good for it to get played.”

“You don’t play anything?”

You shook your head. “No--he’d started to teach me guitar when I was young but then my mom died, just never picked it up again.”

You were thirteen when it happened, a car accident on the 405 and you didn’t go to school for weeks. Your dad had always been your main support--they divorced when you were ten--but after that you grew even closer, which is why losing him was so hard. He’d been a friend and a parent and the best grandfather who helped pick up the pieces when things with Luke started to crumble.

Harry was quiet, a simple nod when he went over to the piano and sat. You felt the need to shift the topic of conversation to something less depressing than the unfortunate events of your life.

“Are you writing a lot for the album still?”

“Yeah--we’ve got a few things written that might end up on it, but, mostly just experimenting with some new sounds.”

He pressed a chord down on the piano and looked up at you. “How do Maeve and CeCe seem to be handling it all?”

“Which part?”

“Both.”

You shrugged. “They’ve asked a lot about where their father is and why he hasn’t visited. And they understand that their grandpa is gone, but they’re sad, I think. CeCe’s had more nightmares than usual.”

He smiled a little. “And how are you doing with all of it?”

You let out a tiny laugh, mostly out of discomfort with the sudden seriousness in his voice and the way he already pulled more out of you than you’d planned. “I’m fine.”

He lifted his brows but played another progression of chords. “Wouldn’t blame you if you’re not.”

You took a sip of the cabernet and watched as he hummed along to whatever he played. When he looked up at you and waited for a reply, you smiled. “Some days I want to pull my hair out and others I need a good glass of wine. I kind of oscillate between those two lately.”

“Well, I’m always happy to split a bottle with you.”

You nodded, tried to fight the smile on your face when he laughed but then gave in. “Good.”

**

You woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache from the third and unexpected glass of wine. The girls were home by 9pm and unfortunately for you, the weekend was busy with play dates and birthday parties and grocery shopping.

Monday had you back in the office and recounting the first week to Tristan over an iced latte and a breakfast sandwich you’d grabbed after school drop off. Now it was cold and you were approaching the mid-day slump you were all too familiar with.

“I just can’t believe you’re alive still, to be honest. You know--seeing as you thought he’d be a serial killer or something.”

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t think he was a serial killer.”

“Just a pedophile?”

“Alright,” you waved him off. “I can admit that it’s been fine--good, even. It’s only been a week, though.”

“Right,” he shrugged. “Halfway there. Maybe week two is when he goes crazy.”

You ignored the teasing from your friend and looked back to your computer. “Do you know if Kailee ordered the new bottles for the matcha face mask?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” he nodded. “And we also got the labels in for them as well. They ship off to the packaging plant on Tuesday.”

“Good, and numbers are up from last quarter which is really good. The meeting with the investors should go well.”

“Yeah, I mean, our entire profit has doubled since this time last year,” he smiled in your direction, a subtle reminder that the late night emails on top of the worst year ever had already proven to be worth it. “You should be very proud.”

“I am,” you admitted. “Of us. All of us.”

“Yes, what kind of boss would you be if you took all of the credit?” He teased.

“A bad one, but I’m also the type of boss that leaves at lunch time to go home and change since I have a meeting this afternoon that I forgot all about.”

He looked you up and down when you stood.

“It’s with people from Anthropologie about carrying some of our products in store--so I don’t think I can wear athleisure.”

He laughed and kept typing. “Fair enough. See you at 2pm, though, for the website meeting?”

“Yes,” you promised as you grabbed your keys. “Please don’t let the place burn down while I’m gone.”

“Might throw the match myself,” he waved you off, a laugh at his own joke when you headed for the elevator.

You were proud of the company you’d built and the office you’d been able to purchase two years back, but you were more proud of the energy that buzzed through the halls and the people who made work feel less like work and more like the adventure of a lifetime. You tried to be the cool boss who brought enough coffee for everyone, gave good time off but still expected hard work and drive to be the core of the business.

It took a while to settle into the role, though. At first you were sure you’d be seen as a spoiled rich kid who got a loan from her father to start a company--but it only took one year to repay him when you started getting placements in health food markets across LA. When Kourtney Kardashian posted something about your raspberry toner, the rest was history.

You’d always been passionate about making people feel good about themselves and focused your entire brand on building people up, not tearing them down. The world had enough of that as a mother of two daughters, you hoped it’d be something that would change that narrative, at least for them.

The drive home was quick and the sun was shining, which put a pep in your step as you hopped out of the car in the driveway and headed for the side door.

Harry’s car was still here--you’d left earlier than usual but didn’t expect him to be home. If anything, you figured he’d left shortly after you and planned on staying late in the studio. Jeff had mentioned something about laying down new tracks.

“Hello?” You called into the kitchen and looked around, he wasn’t in the living room or out by the pool. You found a laundry basket at the top of the second floor and figured that maybe someone had picked him up, but the sound of muffled singing pulled you down the hall and closer to his guest room.

The door was cracked only a bit, the sun streamed in from the windows and you could hear the running water of the shower. It was wrong, maybe, but you pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiled to yourself at the fact that he was singing a Carole King song that your dad used to play on repeat when you were a kid.

The room was clean--you hadn’t been in it since you’d pointed out the linen closet in the bathroom and showed him how to use the TV remote. His bed was made--maybe not the way you would have made it but the throw pillows were arranged in a way that showed he tried.

A buzzing on the dresser pulled your attention away from the bed. His phone, a message from someone named Bria Whitmore. Another message, then a third. You took a step closer--who on earth was texting him this much without a reply? A girlfriend? Someone he probably slept with or something of the sort.

“Hi,” his voice pulled your head around quickly and sent your heartbeat through the roof.

“Jesus, hi--sorry--I was just--”

He was in a towel, the fabric wrapped loosely around his waist and hair was slicked back from the water. You looked away from the tattoos that littered his skin and looked down at the laundry basket.

“I was just seeing if you had any laundry you needed me to do?”

It was clean, but he didn’t need to know that.

“M’good,” he smiled like he didn’t believe you. “Why are you home?”

“Had to change--forgot about a meeting,” you let out a laugh and tried to slow your pulse. “Figured the pilates mom look wasn’t the right vibe.”

He nodded, moved around you in the center of the room to pull out a t-shirt from a drawer. You saw him look down at the cell phone you’d been eyeing.

“Your phone went off,” you admitted, the laundry basket still pressed up against your hip.

“Yeah?” He smirked over his shoulder.

“I was just making sure it wasn’t an emergency--I wasn’t, like, snooping.”

A dimple appeared on his left cheek again, he tugged the fabric over his head and then shook out his hair.

“S’not an emergency,” he said. “Just a friend.”

You didn’t know if that was code. Were twenty-somethings calling their booty-calls friends now? You figured you’d ask Tristan later.

“Why are you home?” You tossed the question back at him.

“Schedule changed--went for a run after breakfast and now just, showering, y’know,” he looked down at the towel that separated you from an even more awkward moment.

“Right, sorry, I...am leaving,” you pointed to the door. “Changing, back to the office, home tonight.”

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “Figured I could make dinner, if you wanted. I make a mean chicken taco.”

You took a few steps backwards to the door. “You cook?”

“I do,” he smiled. “Hard to believe?”

“No,” you shook your head. “That would be great--if you want, but you don’t have to.”

“I’d love to,” he nodded. “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

“With more clothes,” you smiled, immediately regretting the bad joke and the attention it drew to the stuffy air and the butterflies in your stomach.

“Definitely more clothes.”

You made a face at yourself once the door was shut, idiot. At least you hadn’t accidentally seen a picture of someone’s boobs. You were sure he got plenty of those.

You pushed the thought out of your head and thankfully Harry didn’t smirk at you too much when Jeff came to pick up the girls for ice cream the next afternoon. They hadn’t forgotten, but luckily Jeff had offered to take them out one night and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Harry to tag along. That way he could stay true to his word and the girls would stop pestering him every time he popped down to the kitchen.

Zoey had been begging to bring the baby over to get out of the house, and now she was sitting in the other room with Benny on a play mat on the floor. Maeve, CeCe, Jeff and Harry stood in a line, eagerly awaiting the green light to pile into Jeff’s car.

“Okay, so Uncle Jeff can text me if you need anything, see you around 7pm?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeff said, a salute in your direction that pulled a giggle from both of your daughters.

They’d been fighting more lately, CeCe tried to take the medal from Maeve’s room one night over the weekend and suddenly it was like world war three. You were shocked that they’d gotten it together enough to spend some time in each other's presence, even with Uncle Jeff chaperoning, but you were eager for the quiet and hopeful the screaming matches wouldn’t return once the ice cream and dinner date was finished.

“Love you, be nice to each other, okay?” You leaned down and used both hands to hold CeCe’s head in place when you planted a kiss on her forehead, then Maeve. A hug for Jeff, “only one ice cream cone this time.”

He laughed but obliged, you moved down the line to Harry, an awkward nod in his direction when you realized that whatever type of acquaintanceship had slowly started to bloom between the two of you was hardly grounds for a kiss on the forehead or even a hug.

He apparently sensed this too, a playful smile on his face when he lifted his brows. “No farewell for me?”

Jeff let out a quick laugh but Maeve and CeCe took off for the car, racing to see who could get out the front door fastest. “Alright, don’t kill each other,” you reminded again, waved them all off with an embarrassed smirk and then watched as Harry helped CeCe buckle into her booster seat.

“So,” Zoey appeared beside you, Benny in her arms as she looked out the window. “Seems like things are going well.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged casually. “He’s been nice.”

“He seems friendly,” she wiggled her brows when she met your gaze. “Flirty friendly.”

“Just friendly,” you laughed and headed for the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. It might have only been Tuesday, but the week promised to be a busy one. You wiped up a runaway drip of wine on the rim, fully aware the words about to leave your mouth would push Zoey into gear. “But I did see him shirtless yesterday.”

“That sounds amazing,” she shifted Benny in her arms, eagerness in her voice. “How was it?”

“I mean--he also caught me snooping in his room, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

You tried to downplay it. “I came home from work in the middle of the day to change and I heard him in the shower--which is weird cause I didn’t think he’d be home.”

“So you went in there?”

“Not the bathroom--I just peeked into his room and noticed it was really clean. Which is weird, right? He’s a kid!”

“He’s not a kid,” she rolled her eyes at you. “Your kids are kids. He’s twenty-four. I looked it up.”

Your eyes were wide when you turned to head for the couch. “You looked it up?”

“I was curious! He’s a celebrity living in your house and he’s very attractive and you have been harping on his age.”

“Because it felt weird at first.”

“And it doesn’t now?” Her tone was hopeful when she laid Benny back on his play mat and kneeled beside him.

You took a gulp from your wine glass. “Less weird, but only because he’s mature. He’s helpful around the house--he cooked dinner the other night--and he’s good with the girls.”

The corner of her mouth pulled towards the ceiling, arched eyebrows when she clarified. “He’s good with the girls?”

“He’s just nice to them--I was worried that they’d annoy him. I mean, I doubt that he was excited to hear that two of his roommates were six and ten.”

“Okay--but why did you see him shirtless?”

Right--she’d gotten you off track. “Because...I went in his room and then saw his phone buzzing and then he came out and caught me looking at his phone.”

“You were looking through his phone?!”

“No! Not the actual texts, just to see who was blowing it up. I only looked at the lock screen.”

“Was he annoyed?”

“No,” you shrugged, shame laced through your voice. “He was casual. But then he put his shirt on and I left him alone and went back to work.”

“So there’s sexual tension,” she shimmied her shoulders and pulled a laugh from you, she nuzzled down into Benny’s face but then gave him a pacifier.

“No.”

This brought her gaze back to you, more serious now. “Y/N, you are not a creep if you admit that you find him attractive.”

“I can admit that he’s handsome,” you chose a new word that felt more detached. “But who cares? He’s literally just a house guest. A friend of a friend.”

“Right, but he was just flirting with you like there’s no tomorrow.”

“No he wasn’t,” you denied her accusation. When she stared at you expectantly, you took a loud sip and let the obnoxious noise ring through the now empty house as if it would preclude you from saying any more.

“You truly, seriously, one-hundred percent haven’t noticed any type of flirting?”

You averted your eyes for a second, ready to dismiss her question and tell her she was crazy. There was nothing going on between the two of you.

But then you thought on it, thought about the way he asked about Maeve and CeCe and remembered the way your stomach seemed to twist itself in knots when he smirked at you and when the dimples appeared on his cheeks.

“The look on your face is enough of an answer,” Zoey teased, bouncing side to side when Benny made a noise. “Isn’t that right, Benny Boo? Someone has a crush.”

“There’s no crush here--he’s just,” a shrug of your shoulders when you didn’t know what words to use. You didn’t want to add fuel to her fire and you certainly didn’t want to give her any more of a reason to keep bringing this topic up.

“Dreamy? Beautiful? The perfect rebound post-divorce?”

A flutter of your eyelids in annoyance when you stood to head for the kitchen. “No,” you said, making a face in her direction. “He’s just cute.”

“So cute!” She followed behind and egged you on. “A crush is perfectly harmless, a little bedtime rendezvous is totally not a big deal.”

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves, here, okay?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “You mean to tell me you haven’t already thought about if he’s good in bed?”

She came to sit next to you at the island, folding her legs beneath her. When you sipped at your wine and tried to hide a smirk, her face lit up. “I knew it, I knew it! I don’t blame you, at all, by the way. He’s gorgeous.”

“I’m just horny, number one,” you admitted, leaning forward to rest your elbow on the granite counter. “And seeing a man actually be good with kids is a breath of fresh air.”

“Yeah, Luke didn’t set the bar high with that one.”

“Absolutely not.”

A pause of silence when evening air blew through the open doors to the patio. There was music audible through the trees, wafting in from the backyard of your neighbors.

“I think you should fuck him.”

“What?!” You turned towards her quickly, your voice quieter when she smirked and looked over at you. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You have a ridiculously attractive man living in your house and he hangs out with your kids and now he’s starting to cook? It’s like a lifetime movie waiting to happen.”

“That doesn’t mean I should have sex with him!”

“Do you want to have sex with him?”

You were quiet for a second, kept her gaze but then rolled your eyes and shook your head. “I’ve had a bad year,” you made an excuse for the pulsing in your veins whenever you were alone with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

“When does he leave again?”

“I don’t know--at the end of the week, I guess. It’s not happening, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Alright,” she seemed to relent, “You do you. I just think you deserve a little feel good time.”

“That sounds gross,” you wrinkled your nose, pulling a laugh out of her.

She was able to change the topic, told you all about the way Benny was getting better at lifting his own head and he was screaming a lot less when she put him down for some tummy time. Your phone dinged, though, signalling a new text just when you were about to pull out leftovers and heat them up.

She watched when you opened it, got excited when you smirked at the screen.

“Who is it?”

You almost didn’t want to show her, but you knew she’d pry it out of your hands with force if you didn’t share. You flipped it around, watched as a smile spread across her face.

A picture of Harry and CeCe, both with sunglasses on as they ate their ice cream. Maeve and Jeff were in the background, the line at the ice cream shop down the street wasn’t too long. You were kind of surprised he was willing to go with them, wouldn't it create a buzz in the headlines?

Zoey gave you a knowing look.

“It’s just sweet.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled a little at first, but the happiness faded from your face when you pulled yourself back to reality. “I feel stupid thinking that he’s flirting with me. He could be with a supermodel if he wanted to. One with perky boobs and who’s, like, twenty. Not someone who’s old enough to be his mom.”

“You are seven years older than him,” she made a disgusted face. “You could have been, like, his babysitter, not his mom.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”

“You’re being stupid about this!”

You paused with tupperware in your hands, turned around slowly. “I am not being dumb about not having casual sex with the popstar boyband kid living under my roof. I think not having sex with him is objectively the responsible thing to do here.”

“Why do you always have to be so responsible, though? You have been doing that forever, okay? You’re the business owner mom who’s always been incredibly family-oriented.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not in the slightest! But you’re more than just a mom.”

You bit at your cheek and dropped her gaze, put the tupperware down from exhaustion. “I just want my children to have a normal life. I only had one parent and I thought they were going to have two and now that ship has sailed.”

She nodded sympathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong! You never relaxing and having a good time will only teach them bad work-life balance.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, tried to fight the smile when she waited for you to fold. “I love you,” she said. “I want you to get laid or have a drink or let your hair down once in a while.”

You held up the wine in her face. “Already halfway there.”

She reached for the bottle of wine and shoved it towards you with skeptical eyes. “Try harder.”

You let out a laugh and took another sip once it was refilled, pushed plates into the microwave and sat there with her until Jeff’s car pulled back into the driveway and the girls came tumbling back into the house.

“Mom, Harry said he could teach me how to play guitar,” Maeve grinned up at you, an affectionate hug caught you by surprise, but so did her words.

“He did, did he?” You eyed Harry as he walked in with Jeff by his side, sunglasses still on his face despite the sun lingering just above the horizon.

“We’ll start a band,” Harry nodded in her direction, kept his eyes shielded as CeCe ran into the backyard with a noise of excitement.

“And Uncle Jeff said he’ll sing.”

“You’ll definitely get far, then,” you teased, pulling an offended look from your childhood friend. “He’s obviously the best singer in the house.”

Harry nodded in playful agreement. “Could put me out of a job any day.”

“Maeve!” CeCe called suddenly, pulling everyone’s attention to the backyard. “Come play squishball!”

Harry looked down at Maeve and she looked up at him, you were unaware of whatever unspoken communication was transpiring between them. “Should we?” He asked.

“Definitely,” she giggled, hands on her hips.

Zoey was also confused, but she watched as Maeve and Harry headed for the patio. Harry finally took his sunglasses off, handed them to your older daughter before he spoke. “CeCe, we need to have a meeting.”

“A meeting?” She asked, she groaned in disappointment but walked back towards the house, bat dragging on the grass behind her. Jeff laughed and folded his arms over his chest, unaware of whatever deal had already been struck between them.

“You two are both really great at squishball,” Harry admitted, his voice suddenly more serious than before. “But I think we need to up the stakes.”

“Up the stakes?” You could tell by the look on CeCe’s face that she had no clue what that meant.

“Winner of this game gets the medal I won from the spelling bee,” Maeve explained.

You were about to protest, head outside and discourage any type of betting or gambling or whatever the backyard made up game was leading towards, but Harry went on to explain the rules. “CeCe gets a head start running bases, just because of her tiny legs.”

Maeve nodded, “and she gets a free home run to start off.”

CeCe smiled wide and put her hands on her hips, pulling a laugh from Harry as she copied her older sister. “I like the sound of that,” she said. A sure-fire way to make her win, you realized. But what was in that for Maeve? How had your previously grumpy pre-teen become a team player in a matter of hours?

It wasn’t long before Zoey gathered up her things and put Benny in the backseat, giggling and excited yells floated in from the backyard when you hugged her goodbye. Jeff stayed past sunset and offered an excited high five when CeCe won, completely unaware at how easy they’d made it for her.

But he soon left, too, you climbed the stairs behind your two little athletes, got them washed up and in bed before it was 9pm--not bad for a weeknight. You were sure Harry would have retreated to his room, too, but he was sat by the fire pit on the patio, a near empty glass of wine in his hand when you came back out.

“Care to explain?” you leaned against the doorframe and smiled. He adjusted in his seat but shrugged his shoulders when you admitted: “I never thought I would hear the end of it with that stupid medal.”

There was a confident look on his face when he met your eyes in the glow of the fire pit. “Figured I can teach her a few chords on guitar and that would take her mind off of taunting CeCe.”

It was smart, you nodded slowly and watched him. Give Maeve something that would get her really excited, but only if she’d give up something else. Bargaining--a classic parenting trick. You eyed Harry with a level of skepticism.

“How are you so good with them?”

He smiled at that, apparently flattered by the compliment. “They’re good kids,” he said simply.

“I’m aware,” you laughed, “but you don’t have to spend so much time with them.”

“I like it,” he shrugged. “It’s kind of nice to be around a family, you know?”

The words pulled emotion to your chest. Did you really look like a family to him? No husband, no grandfather, two irreplaceable roles and now you were trying to fill all of them just to keep your kids afloat.

“And besides,” he stood from his chair and grabbed the now empty glass before he came closer to you. “Something about being here just feels right.”

You looked up at him, felt the same rush of heat to your cheeks but hoped you were safe in the cover of night. He smirked, like he knew what he was doing to you but was too much of a gentleman to call you out. Hesitation when you felt some type of magnetic force between you, the distance simultaneously felt like inches and miles.

You smiled softly, embarrassed by the way your pulse picked up and the thoughts that flew through your head. What would happen if I, does he ever think about, am I crazy if I want to?

He brushed past you and walked to the sink, placing the wine glass down quietly before he turned to face you once more. “Is it as bad as you thought?”

Confusion, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “Sorry?”

“Having me here,” he motioned around, the dimple on his left cheek was visible even in the dim light. You rolled your eyes, dropped his gaze for a second when he let out a quiet laugh. “I hope that it’s only as miserable as you thought--m’just aiming for not worse than expected at this point.”

You turned to face him and put your hands on the granite, thankful for the fact that the island was now between you, the ticking of a clock on the wall kept time when you tried to piece your words together carefully.

Was he flirting with you? A similar to question to that he'd asked only a few nights earlier, this time with more of a smirk on his face and a lilt in his voice that made sent a shiver down your spine.

“It’s better,” you admitted with a nod and a teasing smile. “But don’t tell Jeff that.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, held your gaze and then nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was silence for a second, you almost offered to pour him another glass of wine but then he said: “Only a few more days, though.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, the fantasy shattered on the floor between you. “How’s the house coming?”

He winced, a quiet laugh when he shook his head. “Everything’s been pushed out a few weeks, actually. But--it’s fine, I’m probably just going to stay with a friend or something, you know, don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You brought your lips into a thin line, unsure if what you were about to offer was appropriate or weird or just plain awkward.

“Oh...well, I mean, if you want to stay here longer, you can.”

His mouth pulled up on the side, he brought his gaze back to you and shifted his weight on his feet. “Yeah? You don’t mind?”

You shrugged, again hoping to play it cool or not come off too eager. “If that would be helpful,” you trailed off.

“Yeah, very helpful.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he nodded, pulling another smirk from you.

A few more weeks, tops.

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[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: This is almost purely fluff. There’s some angst in there, but it’s just, like...A speck. And it’s covered over by fluff. Also I’ve never been to Austin, I did a lot of Googling for this bit, so if any of it is inaccurate, I’m sorry!! It seems like such a cool town and I don’t wanna do it a disservice! Lastly, I linked the museum and the art pieces mentioned in the chapter at the end of the chapter, under the tags. Summary: You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for.

While you and Marcus would be helping Marnie and the family out with wedding prep during the week, they didn’t have anything in particular scheduled for that day. After he’d had his breakfast, Marcus had showered, gotten dressed, and left to get the car that he’d rented for two of you to use that week. You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for. “I wanna show you around while we’ve got some time,” Marcus had told you between stealing sips of your coffee (which were solely permitted because the two of you were pretending to be together - if this had been under any other circumstance, he would not have gotten away with a single sip. His parents had found it adorable. You had found it a loss of coffee).

You dressed in casual clothing, things that you knew you’d have no trouble walking around in for the day. Marcus honked twice once he was outside in the rental, and you bid quick goodbyes to his family. 

-- “So,” Marcus glanced over at you from behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, “We have a few options-- well, we’ve got a ton, but, I was thinking we could take a tour of the Capitol building, and check out the Harry Ransom Center -- it’s this massive archive and library. There are a few places we could hit for lunch, and then… I don’t know, the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? And I thought we could finish with the Blanton Museum of Art?... Or is that, like, a no, since we’re both kinda around art all the time?” You watched him for a few moments, stunned. He’d clearly gone out of his way to think about what you’d like to do -- places that he knew and that you would like. He wanted you to have fun, and time out of the house - away from his family. Marcus was taking you out and about like… Like he probably would a real girlfriend. “That all sounds really awesome,” You admitted softly. Marcus grinned at you, and you settled back in your seat, facing forward again. -- Conversation came as easily as it had when you were in D.C. Marcus dropped the odd fact about Austin now and again (though it was nothing near his panicked post-flight info-dump), pointed out his old haunts, told you about his and Marnie’s childhoods. Even without his family around, you found that the two of you kept close. You reached for one another’s hands; Marcus drew you into his side when you were in crowded places; even when there was plenty of room, Marcus’ hand was on your shoulder, or your back. The contact was comforting; it didn’t feel forced.  You found yourselves strolling through the Blanton with your fingers intertwined, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the patrons around you. It was where the two of you wound up spending most of your day, discussing Fogel’s Conflict and Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi and Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt. When you drifted into the Klimt pieces on loan from the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, and the two of you stopped in front of The Kiss, Marcus cupped your chin and leaned down, pecking the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over your face, and you leaned into him, turning your head and hiding your face in his shoulder. 

He just curled an arm around you, smoothing a thumb along your side as you let your sheepishness run its course. You turned your head as it ebbed away, finally, taking in the intertwined lovers, robed in gold and adorned with flowers. 

--

“Okay, this… Is stupidly cool,” You admitted, looking around. “I was a little worried that you were going to stop at ‘stupid’.” “No!” You laughed, “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Marcus had brought you to a bar with an arcade in Southern Congress for dinner. The two of you had ordered dinner and were looking for a few games to play before the food arrived. “They’ve got a little bit of everything. Pinball, Pac-man, Tron, Skeeball,” Marcus listed off. “Galaga?” “They’ve got Galaga.” “Perfect.” Marcus was exceptional at Pac-man and pinball, but you learned that you had the upper hand when it came to air hockey. You managed to play two games of it (both of which you won) before the food came. “Today has all been insanely awesome,” You told him after you’d polished off your pizza, “Thank you. I mean-- Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” “I didn’t want you feeling like we were stuck at my family’s place all week, and...I mean I know we’re down here for Marnie, but you said you’d never been to Austin. I didn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.” You and Marcus shared a smile before he added, “The whole day has been insanely awesome, huh?” “Yeah.” “Even in the kitchen?” “You mean when you were drinking my coffee? ‘Cause that put you on thin ice, mister.” “Right before that,” He corrected. The smile he was giving you was two parts bashfulness and one part coy. You folded one arm on the table, pillowing your chin on your other hand. “...Yeah, I’d include that. As first kisses go, it was…” You nodded a little, eyeing Marcus from under your lashes, “It was very...Very nice.” “‘Very nice’?” Marcus repeated, “I guess that’s not the worst review I’ve ever gotten.” “Don’t get all huffy,” You chuckled, ”I mean it, it was… I forgot what being kissed like that even felt like.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that...Was my first kiss in two years.” “Two-- How is that possible?” Marcus’ brow furrowed. You rolled your eyes a little bit, glancing away from Marcus as embarrassment swirled in your stomach. “The last person was my ex-fiancé. After that fell apart…” You shrugged, “I haven’t dated since.” You felt Marcus lean a little closer to get a better look at you. “Did you give up on finding someone?” “Not on purpose. I think I just...Built up some walls that I had torn down really quickly with them. And I built those walls up double. I prioritized work-- the devil I knew, you know.” “No dates, nothing?” “Nope.” “How many people did you turn down?” “What makes you think I turned anyone down?” Marcus tipped his head to the side, giving you a slight once-over as he muttered, “C’mon.” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Well, how long after your engagement broke did you wait to date?” You asked. Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line before he admitted, “Five months.” “What made you get back out there? I mean… How’d you know you were ready?” “I wasn’t, but I was worried that if I waited until I was, the woman that had asked me out wouldn’t be available when I got there. I took a leap. It wasn’t a good leap, but it was a leap,” he chuckled, “And it made me remember that dating can suck and putting myself out there could be scary, but… Ultimately, it’s worth it.” You and Marcus regarded one another quietly for a moment. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. You couldn't understand how he was still so open to finding love when he'd been hurt the way he had. That sort of loss had only made you want to recede; it seemed to make Marcus even more determined to find love. Frankly, it was a wonder that he hadn't yet— he was the kindest man you'd ever met. You lowered your eyes to your empty plate as you realized that you were staring. It was easy to get caught up in his warm eyes; you’d found it happening more often lately, and it certainly suited the purposes of the lie you were playing up around his family. But there was something about all of it— his gaze, his smile, everything that the two of you had done today — it stirred up twinges or remorse. Lately you’d found yourself wondering if there ever could’ve been something real between the two of you, if you’d met under different circumstances. That was a very dangerous line of thought.

“If you’re finished with your food, we can go play some more air hockey.” You smiled at the offer, glancing back up at him as you asked, “I didn’t kick your ass enough the first time?” “Oh-- I was just warming up.” “Clocking all of my moves?” “Exactly.” “We’ll see about that.” (You beat him three more times.) (You let him win once.)

--

You flicked off the light before getting into bed, tucking yourself in beside Marcus. He yawned and mumbled, “G’night.” “Goodnight, what?” Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh, “Goodnight, supreme air hockey winner.” “Thank you.” “Mhm.” “I don’t ask for much.” “I know.” “Just that you steer clear of my coffee—” “Uh huh.” “And address me by my proper title.” You glanced over as you felt Marcus shift in the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as his arm wound around your middle, his hand dangling against your side as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Sleep,” He urged in a mumble, “Oh supreme one.” You settled down, resting one of your hands atop Marcus’ arm. It was a warm, comforting weight; a sweet touch that you could, if you weren’t careful, find yourself getting used to. “‘Oh supreme one’,” You repeated quietly, peering up at the ceiling, “I could get used to that.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​ ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​​ ; @hnt-escape​ ; @writingletterstothefire​​ ; @misswriter​​ ; @bison-writes​​

Museums & Art Work

The Blanton Museum of Art

Fogel’s Conflict

Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi

 Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt The Belvedere Museum

Klimt’s The Kiss

[iwaasfairy]

HEY BAE I LUV UR WRITING UR IWA FIC DKWKFKEKF WUUDUUWF WUFKEKSK also i was wondering if u hav reqs for dark content creators on here

thank you baby! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

i follow a ton of talented dark content writers who i’d recommend. this became so long and i most definitely forgot people so i’m sorry in advance but i just... there’s so many amazing writers on this site i swear

@shoyokuns : mous is the source of most of my degenerate thoughts, very sexy blog indeed @kouteru : belle, angel baby, has stacks upon stacks of big brain content @aoyukai : casual writer but her brain is so big so follow @nectarous : bee writes some hottt stuff (where tf is the anal representation >:( very sad) @kiyokens : give more kenma content NOW vivi, ily tho @ukeis : irina (a snuff queen for me, but everything is amazing) @rintarhoes : violet i think this is still your main dark blog for now? but yes fantastic writing, dark or not @yanderexbabydoll : i think you’ve all seen me rave about rhi since the start of this blog but BY EVERYTHING THAT’S HOLY she’s such a fucking good writer i want to be her when im big @tetsou : honey’s content is so fuckkkinnn sexy (i think of the hajime nii angst on the daily) @bakatenshii : angel is so sweet and am AMAZING writer, i miss you i hope you’re well @undermattsun : miss tw toxic, want miki to step on me pls (i’m such a fangirl it’s almost embarrassing) @sugawara-sweetheart : neems has written a ton of amazing stuff, but the dark content lately? godly (mattsun daddy ; ^; and creepy teru nii) @rocorambles : roco and i have many of the same kinks and her works are amazing, brain still rings with gangbang tingz, she also encourages my bad behaviour so :)) @vermiliren : if you don’t follow ren’s both blogs already what are you even doing @suguru-slut : lune’s new dark bloggie (already know it’ll have good content) obviously @seita : the smut hall of fame, @bokutobabie : syd writes some lovely things that make my heart warm but also has the kinks on point @kittenkaashi : laura writes so well and has the biggest, smoothest brain (also her main is fantastic too) @gaos : marty’s dark blog is still pretty new but marty’s a great writer @b0ba-chan : has both dark and more soft nsfw, im a big fan @closetdegen : ezra my love, i hope you’re doing well, very amazing writer @dearsakusa : boys in skirts supremacy ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱♡ dee is great @nashiexo : fucking amazing content once again, my bde rolemodel @lovingsuna & @angelkaashi : clare’s two bloggies bc everything she does makes me :hearteyes: @atsuuji : cloud’s new blog! go follow if you haven’t yet (her old blog also has fucking amazing content)

and these aren’t purely dark content but also write amazing nsfw so check them out and see if you vibe bc they are great. @kyovtani I love zade so much pls @honey-makki kristen also has dc! @datech diana so cute, sob @aiiishiiiteru makes my meian dreams come true @introloves jax is a fantastic writer and really really sweet but I’m too chicken to tag (edit:I was bullied into tagging >:|) @satendou : spencer is another amazing writer who i want to be like when i grow up @sugardaddykenma lin’s the sexiest shitposter on the platform pass it on @lookslikeleese weese has both dark and nsfw (eyes still on the mattsun angst, it was so fuckihdgz good) and last but definitely not least my long time homies who i adore @kinsurou converted to a hq blog ehehe v sexy @xplosiveboy (if they ever decide to fucking post <33 love you baby) and @wakaoujisenhime viki has that kiri smut for days ++late addition but very important: @sawamooora and @koiibito (lets pretend I’m not a fucking idiot and forgot |:)

And also @onefortyninecm just for the art. Do it. Dickasso of the hq fandom + Dabi

ye i do freak out over half the fandom what about it

[egcdeath]

birthdays with the boys

in honor of my own birthday, today i’ll be sharing with you what i think your birthday with many cevans characters would be like. enjoy! <3

steve rogers

he leaves his mission early and unannounced so when you wake up to the smell of pancakes in your house, and a man with breakfast in bed you almost jump out of your skin buuut you couldn’t be happier to see him

breakfast in bed is just the start of your bday because he goes ALL. OUT. 

as you finish up eating, he grabs a folded piece of paper with a wax seal on it and hands it to you

he tells you to open it once he leaves, gives you a wink, then goes

he planed a birthday scavenger hunt for you!!!

for the rest of the day, you travel around the city to a bunch of important places in your relationship, like your fav dates n stuff

at the midway point of the hunt, he meets you for a coffee and makes sure you’re still enjoying everything before he sends you off with the avenger’s company card and basically tells you to get something nice before finishing the hunt hehe

you do in fact get yourself something nice

at the end of the hunt, you end up at the compound where all of your friends and teammates are and you have a very nice birthday party

by the time that you and steve go home, you’re exhausted but wanna spend a lil more time savoring your birthday so steve suggests that the two of you watch that one cheesy rom com that you love (and he hates)

as you cuddle on the couch, popping the occasionaly popcorn kernel in your mouth, you cant help but to feel grateful that you have such an amazing boyfriend

ransom drysdale

his birthdays were always disregarded when he grew up, so he has a very extravagant celebration planned for you

we all know that he can make a pretty airtight and elaborate plan so you literally have zero idea of what he’s got up his sleeve

enter: a whole birthday week

(he sweet talked your boss into some time off  so thats one whole thing you don’t have to worry about)

day one is a whole spa and a shopping day

he can’t stand some of your friends but he invites them anyway bc he knows it’ll make you happy

he’s glaring at your friends while they giggle about some new louis vuitton purse and you’re thoroughly amused by it

you give him extra kisses that night as a reward for not instigating any fights that day (awww bf of the year am i right ladies?)

day two you guys do a museum hop and look at lots of art

ransom rolls his eyes at canvases that have a few drops of paint on them and are called modern art, you think this is hilarious

day three you have a picnic together in a park

ransom knows you have an affinity for charcuterie boards and attempts to make you one himself (and it’s not all that bad), along with a bunch of dainty little sandwiches

later that day, you go to a planetarium together

on your drive back home you have an interesting convo on the meaning of life

day 4 you take a pottery class together

ransom makes the most deformed bowl you’ve ever seen in your life

so naturally you put it up for display in your bedroom (so whenever you see it you can think of him)

day five is a first class flight to some luxurious villa in europe. most of day five is taken up on a plane

ransom lets you lay your head on him while you sleep, even though the position you’re in is making it astonishingly uncomfortable for him

day six you guys explore the city all day together

ransom makes sure not to complain about his aching legs (even though yours are getting sore too, and if he said something you would’ve done something about it!)

on your real birthday (day seven), ransom takes you out to a very nice dinner, and gives you a hand written letter detailing how much he loves and cares about you (because sometimes it’s hard for him to say his feelings)

you’re extremely flattered but have no idea how you’ll top this for his own birthday

andy barber

you and andy aren’t really huge on big gestures, so he does little things throughout the day

while you’re at work, he makes a surprise stop by and brings you your favorite drink & lunch from your favorite food place

he sends a bouquet of flowers to your job as well

after work, he cooks for you then showers you in gifts

your favorite thing that he gets you is a little engraved necklace with yours and his initials on it

at the end of the day, he gives you a nice full body massage and somehow that was exactly what you needed.

maybe not the most extravagant birthday, but a good one nonetheless.

frank adler

you have a pretty chill birthday with him and mary

he brings you a cake that him and mary made/decorated together

it’s kind of hideous but you love it

you guys let mary skip class for just 1 (one) day but tell her to keep it a secret

you call the school and let her fake being sick in the background. it is a hoot

you all go to the zoo together 

you take tons of pictures

your personal favorite is one where mary and frank are posing with a giraffe

after the zoo, you go bowling

when you win, the sore losers that came with you claim they were letting you win since it was your birthday

you end your day at the beach, watching mary and her cat play in the sand in your peripheral vision while you and frank admire the sunset

ah, sweet, sweet domesticity

ari levinson

you go to an escape room to celebrate your birthday

it’s just you and ari, but you’re smart so you don’t expect it to be too difficult

🚨wrong🚨

you’re both so hard headed and stubborn that doing any of the tasks is like pulling teeth

eventually the building had to close, and you’ve only finished like... a few tasks in the hours you’ve been there

this was certainly not a bad birthday though, arguing with ari is one of your favorite pastimes

and this birthday certainly did not disappoint

jake jensen

you and the rest of your team decided to go to a little retro arcade for the first half of the night

you spent way more time than necessary watching jake attempt to beat the high score of some random game

after giving up on beating the highest score on a pac-man machine, jake decided to attempt to win you a prize on the claw machine

like, $20 and a few annoyed humans in line behind him later, it was still nothing

when jake finally gave up, the next person in line won the soft and plushy elephant you had your eye on

and while your back was turned, he may or may not have paid off its rightful owner in order to get it with you

it was too sweet of a gesture for you to even try to be annoyed with jake

a bit later, you decided to partake in a game of laser tag which was going on in the same building

this was fine and dandy buuuut

everyone on your team treated every mission (real or fictional) like the end of the world

this made for a few very interesting matches

jake nearly trampled a child more than one time

good thing everyone was required to sign a waiver before playing

a custody battle over which team got to have cougar seemed to be a consistent theme during the night

when you were on different teams, you couldn’t help but notice that jake was getting a little too much pleasure out of shooting you

it was fine because you were equally enthusiastic about shooting him

you were eventually booted from the game when an employee claimed you were all being too rough

at some point you lost the elephant

but luckily for you, you found it before you went home

you were going to keep that elephant forever

johnny storm

you were genuinely convinced that johnny forgot your birthday

he did not bring it up ONCE the whole day

you’re actually kind of hurt for a while and get all in your head

johnny gets the silent treatment 🙄 (but he deserves it)

you decide to stop moping and go out, since it issss your birthday

you do your makeup and put on a skimpy little dress

as you leave your room and start enter the communal portion of the baxter building, johnny stops you and checks you out

he’s like “where are you going????”

and you’re like “out 😐”

and he’s like “are you sure? 🤨”

and you’re like yes duh

then he gestures to the side really quickly and you’re kinda confused then a whole bunch of people pop out and start cheering for your birthday

you’re kinda embarrassed that you spent so much of the day moping but you quickly get over it because you love a good party

by the time that most of your guests are gone, you force johnny to take you out to the club

and of course you warn him not to ever pull a stunt like that again

lucas lee

he forgot it was your birthday

[mintaka14]

This is chapter 2 of my Dash & Lily inspired ML AU.

For the Lady’s Favour

A Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction

By Mintaka14

 Chapter Two – Complicated Plans

 “Delivery order,” Luka’s boss said laconically, and pushed a takeaway cup and a slip of paper across the counter towards Luka.

Delivery orders weren’t uncommon, but the address on the slip was, and Luka’s eyebrow climbed as he read it. His boss just shrugged.

“The customer paid extra for this one, so you’d better get going.”

At least it was a nice day to be making a delivery to the Trocadéro, and Luka headed out into the streets towards the gardens.

There were plenty of people clustered around the first bench from the northern entrance of the park, and the second, but there was only one at the third bench. He could see pigtails, and a girl bent over the sketchbook in her lap. As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of an assortment of clothing, notes and scribbles and odd sketches around the edges.

“Delivery for the lady at the third bench?” he called out, and his attention was caught by the figure she seemed to be working on. Was that… Jagged Stone? This girl had good taste in music, clearly, and the coat she’d sketched on him looked amazing.

“Hey, that’s really –“ The girl looked up, and Luka completely lost his train of thought as he found himself staring into endlessly blue eyes. Holy shit.

“Is that my coffee?” she asked with a tentative smile, and Luka jerked back to attention. He looked down at the chocolate and fluff with extra everything and all the froufrou his boss had been able to jam into one cup.

“Not exactly.”

The girl’s eyes fell on the cup in his hands, and she let out a soft breath.

“I guess he has a sweet tooth,” she said, and he handed her the cup, trying not to react to the brush of her fingers.

“You didn’t see who placed the order?” she asked a little wistfully. “It- it wasn’t you, was it?”

“Me?” Luka was still reeling under the impact of those blue, blue eyes. “Right now, I wish it had been.”

He nodded at the cup of chocolate and marshmallow fluff in her hands. “Although I’m more of a coffee guy.”

She lit up in a smile, and any semblance of rational thought that Luka had left was gone. Damn, she was just too gorgeous.

“Me too, to be honest. I wouldn’t get half the things I need to do done without a regular caffeine hit. Are you a night owl too?”

“Too often, yeah. It kind of comes with the territory.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, and he found himself talking more.

“I play in a couple of bands, and I’d keep falling asleep over my guitar in the middle of a gig without coffee to keep me going.”

“You’re a musician?”

He grinned and ducked his head in acknowledgement. “What about you? What keeps you up at night?”

It was only after he’d said it that he realised how that could have sounded, but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“Design and sewing.” She let out a faint huff. “The middle of the night always seems to be about the only time I can focus on my projects without something interrupting me, so… coffee.” She pulled a face at the mountain of fluffy chocolate in her hand, and then seemed to realise that they were still standing in the middle of the park. She backed up a reluctant step. “I should – I should stop holding you up. You probably need to get back to work, and here I’m – Sorry. Thanks for bringing me the hot chocolate.”

“You can hold me up any time,” he sighed, but only when she was out of hearing. He turned and headed back towards the coffee shop, but he came to an abrupt stop at the sound of running footsteps and the touch of a hand on his arm.

“Sorry, sorry!” the girl gasped. She held out a raspberry red macaron wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. It was a work of art. “I nearly forgot. Could you give this to the person who ordered the hot chocolate for me?”

“It looks like a ladybug,” he said stupidly, and she blushed again. “No, it’s cute. Lucky.”

“I could use a bit of luck,” she muttered, then she met his eyes and her smile grew brighter. “It was really nice to meet you, Luka. Thanks for my sugar rush.”

Luka’s malfunctioning brain caught on that. “You know my name?”

And the girl’s face flamed into embarrassment. “I don’t… you… the thing…” She gave up and nodded at his chest, and the name tag that was still there.

Ah. Of course.

“I’m Ma-ma-marinette,” she offered, tripping over her own name.

“Pretty name. It suits you.” Judging from the way her cheeks burned even brighter, his tone had been a little more heartfelt than he’d intended, and, reluctantly, he backed up a step. “Guess I’d better get back before my boss notices I’m missing and decides to fire me.”

The smile she gave him almost knocked him on his ass, and he turned away before he could make even more of an idiot of himself. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, though.

Luka stopped and turned back.

“Marinette,” he said. “Wait, do you know Juleka Couffaine?”

“We were in the same class for a few years,” Marinette admitted. “We hang out sometimes.”

“You’re Marinette! I heard all about you from Jules after that thing with the school photo.” He could have kissed her for what she’d done for his baby sister’s self-confidence, and if half the things he’d heard from Juleka were true, this girl was every bit as incredible as he’d just been imagining. He realised he was beaming at her like a fool, and tried to dial it back a bit.

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” she said, sounding a little alarmed, and he felt his smile soften.

“Nothing bad at all.”

When he finally got back to the coffee shop, Luka had barely had time to slide behind the counter and sling an apron around his waist again before the door swung open with an enthusiastic peal of the bell. He looked up to find Adrien Agreste heading towards the counter with an expression of barely concealed nervous anticipation on his famous features.

Luka gave him an easy smile, but before he could ask what the model wanted, Adrien had blurted out, “Did she like it? Did… were you the one who delivered the hot chocolate for me? Was she there?”

So Marinette’s mystery hot chocolate was Paris’ beloved poster boy.

Luka silently handed him the macaron that Marinette had asked him to deliver, and watched the model’s face light up like Christmas had come early.

~~~~~

Marinette was not surprised when Alya burst into her bedroom without so much as a greeting.

“So?” Alya said impatiently. “How did it go?”

“He sent me hot chocolate. I think I’m still in sugar shock, Alya, but the boy who delivered it was so funny and sweet about it –“

“Never mind the delivery guy,” Alya cut her off. “Your mystery guy came through! You had your first date with him… feel free to tell me I’m a genius any time now. This is a good start. The whole idea is for you to get to know each other before you meet, so you need to write to him and get him to do something to show he’s serious here.”

“Like what?”

Alya shrugged. “You’re the one with the plans. You just have to come up with something you can get him to do that doesn’t involve you meeting face to face, something he can do to win your favour.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I can ask him to fight a duel for my honour or something…” Marinette trailed off. “Fight,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“I know that look,” Alya nudged her shoulder. “That’s a plan happening, isn’t it?”

Marinette grabbed a sheet of notepaper from her desk, and her favourite pen.

“Ultimate Mecha Strike,” she announced.

“What?”

“An online challenge. It’s perfect. We don’t have to meet in person, but we can play each other online and find out a bit more about each other.”

Alya was looking as if she wasn’t sure if it was a bad idea or brilliant.

“What if he doesn’t play UMS?”

“Then I can teach him.”

“And what if he doesn’t like getting whomped?” Alya asked sceptically. She was very familiar with Marinette’s playing style, and Marinette made a face, still concentrating on the note she was writing.

“Then it’s better to find out now that he’s a sore loser, before I get too attached.”

Marinette read over the note, and folded it, presenting it to Alya with a flourish. Alya grinned, and tucked it into her bag.

“Right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Let’s see if he’ll fight for your hand. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Once Alya had clattered down the steps again, Marinette buried her face in her pillow and screamed quietly. This was a bad, bad idea.

~~~~~

Luka was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed over the door, and he paused as Alya came in. It wasn’t unusual to see her in the café, but it was unusual to see her there without Nino or their friends. He watched curiously as she sidled almost furtively towards the noticeboard and tacked something up between the band posters and lost and found notices.

“What are you up to?” Luka asked, and Alya leaped, her hand going to her chest as she spun around.

“Jeez! You startled me.”

Luka tipped his head at the envelope she’d just pinned up. “I saw you the other day, when you put that letter on the board, and now this one. What’s that all about?”

“Aren’t we allowed to use the public noticeboard?” Alya asked, her hands going to her hips and a defensive note in her voice.

“And that hot chocolate delivery the other day?”

Alya huffed in response, but Luka just kept watching her with a look of mild interest, until she said, “It’s just like this game. Sort of. Like a blind date, without actually knowing who you’re dating.”

Luka’s eyebrow climbed.

“Look, we have these friends who’d be perfect for each other, but she can’t talk to him, and he’s completely clueless, so we’re trying to set them up.”

“Right,” Luka said slowly. “Does Marinette know about this?”

“Well, she doesn’t know who it is,” Alya muttered. “But she’s had this huge crush on Adrien for ages. We’re just getting them to set each other challenges, doing stuff like that coffee delivery, or… I don’t know, looking for a painting at the Louvre, something like that. Like dates, where they don’t actually meet.” Alya gave a sudden grin. “It’s going to be so hilarious when they finally work out who they’re writing to.”

“Is this some kind of practical joke?” he asked flatly, his heart sinking a little for Marinette’s sake, but Alya’s angry reaction was somewhat reassuring.

“Like I’d do that to my girl!” she said indignantly. “This is just… a creative way to help her get past some stuff. You met Marinette, so you know how she trips all over herself and stutters?”

She’d certainly stumbled over their names when she’d gotten flustered, but Marinette had been perfectly coherent through most of their conversation. Alya must have taken Luka’s expression as agreement, though, because she barrelled on.

“Well, imagine that, but like a million times worse. Girl just cannot string a sentence together around a guy she likes. And Adrien, well, he’s great with knowing what to say to his fans, and being polite to other models and his father’s business contacts, but not so good with,” Alya gestured vaguely, “normal stuff. He’s never really noticed Marinette like that, because he’s not real good with subtle, but he buys into that whole romantic movie, big gesture, winning the lady thing.”

“And that’s where this comes in?” Luka asked drily, nodding at the letter pinned to the board.

“Exactly!” Alya smacked her hands on the counter. “It’s like something out of one of those old movies. We get Adrien’s attention with the whole romantic mystery thing, and in the meantime, they can get to know each other. Marinette can talk to Adrien, because she doesn’t have to actually talk to him and she doesn’t know it’s him anyway, and Adrien can get to see how amazing my girl really is.”

“This seems like a very complicated way of doing things,” he pointed out as neutrally as possible, but Alya waved away the observation with a flip of her hand.

“You don’t know Marinette. Everything tends to be complicated with her.”

“If Marinette can’t actually talk to him in person, maybe he’s not the right one for her.”

“Oh, please! She’s been in love with him forever. Love makes you do stupid things, and she just needs a bit of a push in the right direction. I know Marinette.” Alya narrowed her eyes at him. “And what’s it got to do with you anyway?”

Luka just shook his head, not trusting himself to respond. He was honest enough with himself to admit that the pang of disappointment he’d felt when he found out that Marinette was interested in someone else might have had something to do with his judgement here, but even so, this had all the makings of a trainwreck of epic proportions. He didn’t, however, need Alya’s measuring gaze to know that it was none of his business, not if Marinette wanted this.

He shrugged, and turned away to straighten the coffee cups.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” he told her, and the note stayed pinned to the board until Adrien came in again some time later to collect it. And if Luka’s heart sank a little at the eager expression on Adrien’s face, and the thought that maybe this ridiculous plan might actually work, then he kept that to himself.

[raleighcarrera]

outpoint

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

a cut scene from chapter 4; after dionne’s party, blaine and kennedy work on their project a little bit and then not at all.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @natesewell ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes

~3.3k words | T

it would be easier not to be seen together if not for the fact that they’re no where near done with their project. in fact, they’ve barely even started.

there’s also the added complication of their less-than-platonic relationship; they’re far from just classmates, or even friends. 

everything feels like it’s gotten out of control so quickly.

but he hadn’t planned for this. he’d agreed to go to vancross because it was that or the campaign trail; when he’d first arrived on campus, blaine had expected to coast through his classes, party until he forgot how pissed off at his parents he was and wait out the boring political drama unfolding back home with a few more years of school.

he hadn’t expected her. 

to their credit, his father’s advisors had done their best to warn him. still, he’d slept through so many briefings before packing up and heading out that he lost count -- going to vancross was supposed to be a reprieve from being blaine hayes, a chance to get out from under his parents’ noses. the first daughter of rutherland was a nonissue, hardly part of the equation at all.

...then he’d met her, and she’d called him a jackass with that cute little challenging sparkle in her eyes, and a part of him that had long since been quiet slowly stirred awake again.

and now he’s here: playing it so cool that kennedy is clearly starting to doubt whether he even likes her at all, fidgety and tense where she’s doing her very best to pretend to be engrossed in her textbook, sitting right beside him on the couch in her suite. 

her bodyguard is definitely glaring at him, too. 

blaine looks away, clearing his throat and nudging kennedy with his shoulder. “hey,” he murmurs, voice purposefully low, “i think i found something.”

it’s only when she blinks at him curiously that he realizes he has absolutely nothing at all to offer her and only wanted an excuse to break the silence between them. he points to a random passage in the book in his lap. “we can use this for our argument.”

kennedy looks down at the section he’s indicated and then stares back at him as though he’s one of the dumbest people she’s ever had the displeasure of talking to. rather than wilt under the disappointment in her eyes, he only smiles charmingly back at her, until she heaves a sigh and says, “maybe you should just work on our citations.” 

god, no. anything but that. panicked, he grabs for the book she’s holding before she can retreat silently into its pages, burying her nose in the spine and refusing to look at him like she has been for the last hour. “look,” he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. the sudden spike of nervousness that flares up within him is... new, to say the least. he needs a plan. “can we talk privately for a minute?”

she looks past him, quirking an eyebrow at her bodyguard. there’s a beat or two of silent communication between them that makes him feel uneasy and a sharp twist of her mouth before he hears the front door open and shut, and then they’re alone.

blaine exhales, jumping to his feet. “okay -- come on.” 

he crosses the room without waiting for a response from her, prying open one of the windows in her kitchen. his head leans out to judge the distance to the cobblestones beneath them; it’ll be a bit of a jump, but he’s had worse. when he looks back at kennedy, she’s still blinking at him owlishly. “uh, what are you doing?”

“we’re ditching your bodyguard,” he grins, more confidently than he feels. it is kind of funny how she’s looking at him, like he just suggested a bank heist. “come on. he’ll be back any second.”

kennedy glances at the front door, then rushes over to meet him at the window. “but -- why -- we’re supposed to be working on our project.”

he arches his eyebrows at her, unimpressed. “and we’re obviously not making any headway. plus, i can tell you’re distracted, and since i’m pretty sure that’s my fault... i want to fix it.” well, those are words he’s almost definitely never said to anyone before. to cover up his own surprise at himself, and how uncomfortably true they ring, he widens his grin and asks, “don’t you trust me?”

as soon as she leans around him to peer down at the length of the drop, he knows he’s won. “not enough to go first.”

blaine winks at her before deciding to hell with it, leaning out the window and jumping down to the ground, wincing when his shoes slam against the pavement. fuck. that probably wasn’t worth a shot at impressing her.

though it is worth being in the perfect position to catch her, when she slips from the windowsill and straight into his arms, windswept and adorable. her trip down had been clumsy and imprecise, with all the grace of someone who had probably never snuck out of anywhere before. 

before he can stop himself, he lifts a hand to her face to brush her hair back behind her ear. she smiles at him, as his fingertips graze her temple, and for a moment it’s like they both forget who and where they are.

it’s terrifying. 

he sets kennedy down on her feet as quickly as he can, reaching for her wrist to tug her through the courtyard. “come on.”

“where are we going?” she asks, stumbling to catch up with him, “and -- slow down, jesus. i can’t run in these shoes. no one’s chasing us, anyway.”

right. he knows that. he’s done this plenty of times -- evaded his own security detail so frequently he could probably do it in his sleep. he’s snuck plenty of pretty girls around behind guards, including this pretty girl just a few days ago. there’s no reason he should be off his game now.

blaine shakes his head at himself and then slows to a stop, finally dropping kennedy’s wrist back to her side. “well, you can’t ever be too sure,” he muses, pleased to find that they’re definitively alone, no other students or faculty or wayward paparazzi following behind them. “but you’re off the grid, now. how’s it feel?”

kennedy pauses, then unleashes a blinding grin that’s a little bit dazzling. “i see why you do this all the time.”

he hums his agreement, trying not to stare at her smile. “we’re not even at our final destination yet.”

she makes an interested noise that he tries not to find sexy and fails. no one ever said he didn’t have a one-track mind. “where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” blaine promises, his own smirk sharpening as soon as they reach the gate and his hands find it unlocked. some state-of-the-art security.

kennedy falters beside him as he holds the wrought-iron out wide for her. “we didn’t fill out any paperwork.”

that’s true. but it would’ve been impossible to ask for permission when the plan was still only half-baked in his mind, sprung into being just twenty minutes ago. “we’ll be back before anyone notices,” he assures her, “except maybe your shadow.”

kennedy rolls her eyes, but his teasing does the trick. she saunters out of the gate with him without a glance back. “tatum’s just doing his job.”

“right,” blaine scoffs, “that’s all he’s doing.” 

there’s a pause that feels just a touch too long before kennedy carefully asks, “what do you mean?” 

“i mean --” he adopts the most casual tone of voice he can muster. it still feels like not enough, making him instantly regret dancing around this topic of conversation. “it just seems like there’s something else going on between you two.”

yep. kennedy smirks wide, as obviously delighted as any one person can look. he should’ve seen that coming. “is that so?”

“don’t be smug,” he mutters, hunching his shoulders in when a group of random strangers walk past them on the sidewalk. 

“no, i’m going to,” kennedy argues, looking unfairly cute as she does the same, mimicking his movements. god, he hates her. “tell me, what do you think is going on between us?”

“only if you tell me why you’ve been so quiet,” he fires back, leading them off down a side street. “you’ve been weird ever since we got back from pavadena.”

“i have not,” kennedy insists immediately, though when he looks her way again while they wait for the light to change so they can cross the street he sees she’s biting down anxiously on her bottom lip. “i’m not even supposed to be seen with you.”

“i know.” he’s not, either. yet here they both are, in broad daylight together, in the middle of town. “so?”

“so, i’m risking a lot, and it’s like, for what? you didn’t even -- you’ve barely spoken to me, too.” she looks embarrassed by the admission, avoiding his gaze while she stares at the sidewalk instead. “when other people are around, you act like... it’s nothing. me and you.”

blaine frowns. it’s unexpected, how hurtful it is to hear her say that in the soft tone of voice she’s using, uncertain and uncomfortable. she shouldn’t sound like that. “isn’t that what you want?”

she sighs, hesitating for a moment before opening her mouth again. “i --” kennedy cuts off abruptly, leaning to the side to peer around his shoulder. with a sheepish shrug, he realizes they’ve reached their destination, and that kennedy’s stopped talking because of the music playing, trying its best to lure them across the street and into the carnival. “oh my god,” she laughs, her whole face transforming from shy to excited so quickly it makes his head spin, “how did you know this was here?”

her reaction is worth any potential disaster waiting for them back on campus. it might even be worth the ass kicking that’s definitely heading his way from that surly bodyguard of hers, too. “doesn’t matter. come on.”

they jog across the street with their heads down, though as soon as they’re actually on the fairgrounds he realizes there’s no need to look over their shoulders; it’s the middle of the day and the carnival is pretty much empty, a wayward toddler being chased by an au pair the only other sign of life on the premises besides a few bored looking workers hanging out of their booths. 

“god, i haven’t been to something like this in ages,” kennedy gushes, already dragging him over to a big table marked tickets. “this is amazing.”

the thing is -- he knows exactly what she means. growing up like they did, being who they are, it’s impossible to do anything normal. he can’t remember the last time he had an afternoon out that was as mundane as this one, either. even date night with his last girlfriend had become a production; nothing was ever just dinner and a movie.

instead of acknowledging her gratitude, he shoves her out of the way with his shoulder and opens his wallet for the most tickets the teenager behind the counter will give him. kennedy completely ignores him while he pays, twisted around to look out over the fairgrounds, cataloging every offering with wide, overeager eyes. somehow she makes this traveling carnival that’s absolutely seen better days feel like a luxury destination, and as he passes the tickets over to her blaine finds that his smile is tough to dampen, despite his best efforts to keep his expression contained.

they burn through a good chunk of the tickets throwing baseballs at milk bottles -- mostly because kennedy insists she can knock down more than he can, and that simply won’t do. he refuses to stop until he’s won her the biggest prize they have available, an obnoxiously pink stuffed elephant with giant, floppy ears. 

fortunately, there’s still enough tickets left for the fun house and the photo booth and every other stupid thing she wants to do that he pretends to hate but doesn’t, until eventually the sun’s starting to set and he knows their afternoon out is coming to an end. 

“we should head back,” blaine suggests regretfully, watching her pick her way through the giant cotton candy he probably shouldn’t have bought for her with a mix of disgust and pride. “we’ve been gone awhile.”

“have we?” kennedy blinks, as though she’s only now noticing how late it’s gotten. “ugh. one more ride -- i have to finish this.”

“you don’t,” he remarks with amusement, noting the tips of her dyed-blue fingers even as they walk off indulgently towards the only ride they’ve yet to approach. “you can just throw it out.”

“that’s quitter’s talk,” she says through a mouthful of melting sugar, chewing with her cheeks bulged out while blaine uses the last of their tickets to get them onto the ferris wheel, which is completely abandoned except for the two of them, as far as he can tell. 

once the door is shut and they take off it’s the most alone they’ve been in awhile. the last time they were this secluded was in the kitchen in pavadena, when he’d licked frosting off her fingers and she’d looked at him like maybe she wanted him to kiss her, too -- like maybe she wanted even more than that.

sort of like how she’s looking at him now, doe eyes wide and nervous, the cogs of her mind very clearly turning into overdrive behind them.

it seems so obvious, now, staring at her in the cart. of course she’d wanted him to kiss her on dionne’s birthday. she’d dressed up, searching for a sincere compliment that she hadn’t gotten and invited him to dance in the hopes that if she made the first move he’d make the finishing one, like they’d done before. and he hadn’t even realized it.

so -- he probably is as stupid as everyone thinks he is. 

the ferris wheel creaks around them as they slowly ascend to the top, old machinery groaning while they climb higher and higher. it feels like it takes forever for him to sort his thoughts into a sentence that’s actually passable, but for once, he wants to be careful about what he says. “i didn’t mean to make you think i don’t care.”

he hears her inhale. kennedy flicks her gaze out at the view behind him, then bravely looks back at his face. “no?”

“no,” he confirms, shrugging helplessly again. “this is new to me.” even this conversation is beyond him.

but judging by the look on her face, he’s yet to colossally fuck up. that’s good. “me, too,” she admits, leaning in a little closer across the metal bench they’re both sitting on. “it’d be weird even if we weren’t... us.”

except that who they are has nothing to do with why this is so strange for him. kennedy could be from antartica, and he’d still be the unlucky bastard who finally met someone he thinks understands him and has botched talking to her about it at every opportunity. 

well, there’s one thing he knows he can still execute perfectly. as the ferris wheel glides to a stop for them to take in the view, the setting sun streaming in picturesquely through the little window in the cart, he leans in and kisses her, hands fanning out low over the small of her back.

kennedy tastes like cotton candy and her hands are sticky when they cup his face -- sticky like they would have been if he’d seen the signs for what they were and kissed her in pavadena like he’d wanted to, if he’d taken advantage of the rare moment alone in the way he was now, crowding her back into the corner of the cart with a grip that he knows is probably too tight.

but she kisses him back just as urgently as he’s kissing her, dragging him in closer and biting at his mouth. she’s kissing him like she’s been thinking about this, too -- like she’s found it even a fraction as all-consuming as he has, late at night when he can’t get to sleep and he’s staring at his ceiling cursing the absurdity of it all.

the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. the ferris wheel lurches back into motion with a sound that would be alarming if he wasn’t so distracted, the cart swaying in the wind as they slowly come down the other side of the circle.

she pulls away despite blaine’s best efforts to keep her in his personal space, his hands still firm on her hips. “blaine,” she murmurs, so prettily he actually has to shut his eyes -- just for a second -- just to catch his breath -- 

light spills into the cart as the door is wrenched open. they’re on the ground again, and there’s a line of kids waiting for their turn on the ride. going up had felt like forever, but the descent was done before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. 

they make their way back to the street silently. blaine is so lost in thought it takes him a minute to realize kennedy is on the phone, wincing and rushing to promise the world to whoever she’s talking to -- that they’d only run out for a little, that she was perfectly safe, that she’d be back soon. tatum, she mouths at him as soon as he catches her eye, though as she talks he finds it hard to do anything but stare at the blue corners of her mouth, where she probably still tastes like cloyingly sweet artificial sugar.

he half expects an ambush to be waiting for them at the vancross gates, but it’s quiet when they head back across the quad. after a few steps in the direction of kennedy’s dorm, blaine’s horrified to find that he’s dragging his feet, reluctant to let what was probably one of the better days of his adult life come to an end.

this is going to be a problem.

they stop on the side of her building, out of sight from any students who may be using the main entrance. kennedy clears her throat, then announces, “well... this was fun. consider me -- fixed. i think i’ll be able to get my head in the game, now.”

he should make a joke. she’s lobbed up the spike perfectly, all he has to do is hit it. he’s done it a thousand times before -- it should be as easy as breathing.

instead, he finds himself staring at her. blaine ignores what she’s said. “it’s not nothing.”

kennedy blinks. “huh?”

well -- saying it once was one thing. repeating it is something else entirely. he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “you. this. it’s not nothing... to me.��

she’s smiled at him a lot since they’ve met, in pretty much every way imaginable: exasperated, fond, excited, alluring. none of them compare to the way she’s looking at him now, her whole face lit up with joy.

the kiss she presses to his cheek is soft, yet still so heavy. there’s a promise of something that makes him feel off-kilter weighted beneath it, and his stomach unknots as he realizes he’s said the right thing. “me either. goodnight, blaine.”

she disappears around the corner, pink elephant tucked up under her arm, half-finished bag of cotton candy dangling from her free hand. he watches her go, shaking his head at himself again and running his fingers through his hair once she’s out of sight.

ideally she’d be out of his mind, now, too, but he’s starting to realize there’s just about nothing that can make that happen and, if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want it, anyway.

you just went on a date, chirps an annoying little voice in the back of his mind. 

huh.

so he did.

for the first time since he came to this stupid school, blaine whistles on the way back to his room.

[mintsuke]

Second Chance (k.s.)

In which; Kita Shinsuke falls for his daughter’s f!kindergarten teacher.

WC: 6.6K

A/N; 200 follower special!! 😳 ty all again and I hope you enjoy and lmk what you think <3

*Slight reference to Clannad :’)

Warnings!: mentions of death, miscarriage, cheating

First day of school jitters weren’t a thing in Kita’s book. There was no such thing when he was always prepared with all his supplies in his satchel and knowledge of where and what class he was in. Why was there a need to be nervous as long as you studied and prepared like usual?

It hadn’t even registered in his mind that he was nervous until he had to let go of the tiny hand curled around his index finger. There was only three times he’d ever felt nervous, his chest twisting crudely and his stomach fluttering uncomfortably with butterflies. One of which, he’d like to never have to relive. 

And currently. It was scarily coming back to him like a pick up truck hurling towards him at dangerous speeds. 

He almost forgot how to breathe as other parents kiss the bubbly cheeks of their own children and watch as the students stand in line as best as they can in front of their classroom. 

“Papa?” the little girl asked, her large hazel eyes blinked at his strained chestnut own, cheeks full and pinch-able, and mouth wide in excitement. His grandmother had helped pull her dark hair into cute little pig tails, not taking a no for an answer when the little one threw a fit about being a big girl now. 

“Kita Erina-chan?” 

A breath. Then all oxygen once again left his lungs as he snapped his head up to greet his daughter’s teacher. 

You stand there with a warm smile, eyes crinkled and nose slightly scrunched. A striped apron had been tied over your clothes. 

He’s not even quite sure of his own reaction as he watches with deaf ears as your lips move, but all he can hear is his heart thrumming loudly in his ears. He doesn’t snap out of his stupor until he realizes you’re calling out his family name in confusion.

“Oh... I apologize...” He mutters in a fluster, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Looking around now, he’s probably one of the last parents to let go of their child, and he can’t help the heat that crawls over his cheeks. 

It was unlike him to act shy like this as well.

“No worries. A lot of parents have a little reluctance on the first day of school. I mean who wouldn’t when you look at these cute little ones,” You smile down at Erina, who mirrors your expression as you hold out your hand, “Shall we go? I have a lot of fun things planned for you, Erina-chan!” 

The heartbreak is unbearable when the little girl releases her hold on his index finger after a brief kiss on his forehead. 

“Tell Papa see you later!” You instruct jovially to Erina, who parrots the phrase cutely, as you and the girl lead the line of kindergartners into the classroom.

Kita’s attention is divided between the absolute adorableness of his own child, and the comfortable way you had just referred to him as papa. It doesn’t even kick in that he’s so smitten with your mere appearance until he’s halfway home and realizes he didn’t catch your introduction and name during his stupor.

He forgets, however, that work needs to be done in the field, and regretfully relinquishes picking up his daughter to his grandmother - who claims the walk is nothing for her strong bones. He’d beg to differ, but kept his thoughts to himself and waited until he returned home to Erina and his granny welcoming him home with dinner. 

“How was school?” He asked as he opened his arm wide to beckon her onto his lap. Bouncing, she nearly cannonballs onto his crossed legs, briefly hugging her father before kissing his cheek happily.

“It was fun!” She exclaimed, going on to excitedly recount her day. He smiled and listened carefully to her story of playing tag with the other kids, her new favorite book being the one you had read during story time, and the drawing she had made during art - which she ran all the way to her room to grab to show him.

“Oh who’s this?” Kita asks curiously as he places his pointer over what he presumed to be a woman holding the child’s hand, the other being held by a man. At least from what he could out of her block-y crayon shapes and mitten-hands and waves to indicate long hair. 

“(L/n)-sensei!” Erina grins toothily.

“You really like your teacher?” A question to which she nods mirthfully to. 

Yumie smiles in adoration at the child of her grandson, “She’s a very nice woman, very pretty and young... A perfect match.” 

Kita’s eyes narrowed for a half second at the glint in his grandmother’s eyes. What was she trying to hint at? 

In all honesty though...

You were pretty.

Ah. 

Pushing aside the thought, he made a sound of mild appraisal as he distracts himself with his glass of water. His cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment.

As much as he’d hate to admit it, his grandmother was sharp and sly, she loved teasing when the moment warranted it. 

She took every chance she got.

Especially after another day of work for Kita and school for Erina.

“Say Eri-chan, is (L/n)-sensei married?”

Kita choked on his water. Faking a cough to hide the mishap, before dabbing his mouth with a napkin. 

“Nope!”

The look of knowing crosses his grandmother’s face, and he can only silently continue to eat his meal. 

“Goodnight Eri-chan,” Kita smiles softly down at his daughter, stroking the back of his fingertips over her plump and rosy cheeks. Just like her’s. Those hazel irises that reflected her similar ones, glimmering with curiosity and mischief. 

“I love you, Papa,” the young girl yawns in a sluggish manner, eyelids falling close and open as she struggles to stay awake. 

Settling down beside her, he turns on his side to allow his daughter to curl against his body. Arms wrapping around her much smaller form securely. 

“I love you too.”

He thought that maybe he was just attracted to you. You were a single and beautiful woman, that much was clear. That was just it though, right? 

Right?

No. 

He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t dare to love another woman.

Yet, why did he feel so empty? Why was he looking at another woman the way he was? 

He had no answer. 

Why did he tend to watch as you corralled the children in a somewhat single-file line into the school building? What were these fleeting glances you both shared, a timid smile from your part, and a blush burning on his cheeks as he nods firmly to greet you silently. 

Your smile was gentle. Tender and soft, just like her’s. 

Crap.. 

This was fine. 

Besides, Erina never expressed a curiosity for her absence of a mother. Why should she, when she had a mother figure like his granny? 

It was fine like this. Kita didn’t need to date. He shouldn’t. 

At least that was what he kept telling himself. Mother’s day had come and passed, Kita and Erina had spent the night making a mess out of the kitchen in an effort to make dinner and a cake for Yumie. He’d thought everything was fine. 

“How was the mother’s day breakfast?” He asked her when he helped her set up their futon for the night.

Her smile was a little more somber this time around, unlike her usual bubbly and wild grin that lit up the world. This one felt sad and he wanted to know why. 

“It was good!”

“Want to tell me about it? Why do you look so sad?”

Her gaze fell to her hands, just as her smile did. 

“Well, we ate onigiri and sandwiches and desserts that (L/n)-sensei made for us!”

“But?” He pressed slightly.

The girl clasped her fingers over the bedding. Her head tilt downward, her dark hair falling over her head like a curtain that hid her sad expression from his gaze.

“Everyone else had their mamas...”

His smile never faltered, although the pain in his chest grew. 

“You don’t like granny accompanying you?”

“No!” She exclaims abruptly, “I... the other boys and girls noticed that I had only brought granny... and I felt sad. Where’s Mama? How come I’m the only one without one?”

She never did have a reason to ask. Now that she does, he’s not sure how to answer. He doesn’t want to upset her with the truth, but lying to her was no good. 

“She’s not with us anymore.”

He thought that answer would suffice. Erina looked dejected at the answer but slept on it. 

Perhaps a day to the park, when she doesn’t have school and he’s got a day off from working away in the farm, will mend the pieces he’s broken from revealing half the truth of her mother’s whereabouts. She didn’t deserve that kind of pain at this age. It just didn’t help her desire for a mother figure, a real one that she would call Mama.

“Oh! Kita-san?”

His heart nearly skips a beat before increasing exponentially in rhythm. 

You’re standing above him, Kita sitting on the bench while watching his daughter play with the neighborhood children, grocery bags hanging from your forearms. His eyes make a mistake to examine your figure as a whole. 

No apron. Just casual clothing on your day off with no need to look nice for your students. Yet, he couldn’t help but admire your natural beauty. Simply effortless.

Erina immediately notices you and comes racing over, calling your name out brightly before greeting you with a tight hug around your hips. You smile warmly at the girl, greeting her politely as she rejoins the children again.

Kita is in awe. He’d imagined this scene millions of times. Erina running into open arms, two pairs of hazel eyes gazing at one another with affection, kisses pressed to the girl’s forehead with whispered praises of her cuteness. 

“Mama!” he imagined her say it dozens of times. Not out of sadness that she was different from her classmates who had mothers, but out of love for the woman who had given birth to her. 

“Kita-san?”

He blinks, eyes widening a fraction before he bows his head in your direction.

“Sorry, I was very deep in my thoughts.”

Taking a seat on the bench beside him, you laugh slightly, and he can’t help but adore the sound. It brings a fluffy feeling in his chest and he can’t remember the last time he’d felt such a way, or heard her laugh. 

“You’re thinking a little too hard, don’tcha think?” You say with a soft chuckle following your teasing. He doesn’t answer, but you take this into stride and direct your attention to the adorable mini Kita playing on the monkey bars. 

“Eri-chan, is so cute and lovable,” You say after a brief moment passes, “You’re a lucky father, Kita-san.”

His lips quirk and you can’t help but stare, his expression nostalgic and sad.

“I am, she reminds me a lot of my wife.”

“Her mother must be a kind and gentle woman.” You comment good-naturedly.

“She was.” He says with that same, fond expression.

“A lucky woman indeed,” You chuckle, slightly envious of the woman who captured his heart. “Pardon me if I’m intruding, but does your wife work often? Eri-chan looked a little sad after our mother’s day activities.”

“Oh. I...” he trails off.

He looks slightly uncomfortable, his smile falling and you feel like you had in fact crossed a line. He’s unsure how to put the words together, but you stop him with a hand held up.

“Don’t worry about it, I apologize for pressing too far.”

Blinking, he opens his mouth, but you grant him that gentle smile of yours. He hates that it reminds him so much of her. Everything about you felt serene and soothing to be around, that darned smile of yours made him feel weak and vulnerable. He always was around her. 

“Not at all, but thank you.”

You cast him a sidelong glance before standing up, looping your wrists through the loops of the plastic bags.

“Well, I suppose I should be heading home now, it was nice seeing you both outside of school.”

He’s not sure what compels him to, but he stands abruptly. The action causes you to stop and wait for him to say something, and he’s not even sure why he reacted the way he did. Warmth spreads across his cheeks, the hue noticeable to your amusement.

“Um would you like some help with your groceries?”

The question shocks both you and himself. Your eyes widen a fraction before crinkling, accompanied by that beautiful smile. 

“How gentlemanly of you Kita-san,” You chuckle, “I’m okay though, the sentiment is appreciated.”

He doesn’t argue, almost feeling embarrassed by his own rashness. Erina seems to notice that you’re preparing to leave and comes running over to hug you goodbye. His stomach is turning, chest twisting, but his expression keeps a small smile as you bid your farewells.

“Thinking about (L/n)-sensei?”

A few hours later and he still can’t seem to stop thinking about you. He stiffens as his grandmother chuckles wholeheartedly. Was it really written all over his face?

The elder takes a seat beside him on the engawa, Erina already tucked away into bed in their shared room. Her warm, chocolate eyes observe the dazed look that remains on her grand son’s expression. 

“It’s been five years already Shin-chan.”

He glances at her, unsure of where she was getting at suddenly. 

“It has,” He agrees wearily.

“You don’t think Eri-chan asks me all the time where her mama is?”

Oh.

His jaw clenches. 

“Why don’t you move on and let her go already?”

An image of her and now, you, appears in his mind. He’s far too aware of his attraction towards you. It just...

“It doesn’t feel right.”

The elder snorts at his answer. 

“And why does it not? Like you’re betraying Reina’s love? For moving forward in your life? You don’t even notice how much you’re suffering by living in the past.”

He doesn’t answer and her eyes soften, placing a gentle hand over his shoulder.

“At best, Eri-chan is your living reminder of yours and Reina’s love.”

A moment. Then a sigh.

“I want you to be happy Shin-chan.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, “That doesn’t exactly entail that I have to date again Granny.”

The woman snickers, “I never said anything about dating, Shin-chan.”

The man flushes.

“No. I— Well...”

“Just admit it, you stubborn grandson of mine,” The woman jabs lightly at his arm.

“I admit nothing,” He says with a hand raking slowly over his face to hide the darkening blush.

“Then why do you get so flustered around Eri-chan’s cute teacher?”

He stands abruptly, pressing his mouth firmly into a straight line as he takes a deep breath.

“I... I’m going to get some rest, don’t stay up too late granny.”

The elder watches as he retreats back to his room and chuckles.

“What a stubborn boy. How unlike you.”

.

He never realized how much Erina really wished to have a mother of her own. He never thought it’d get to the point of Erina throwing a tantrum at dinner, tears welling up in her large hazel eyes. 

“I hate you Papa! I wish I had Mama!” 

“Erina-chan!” Yumie starts, but the young girl stands and races out of the room. Sniffling, she throws the sliding doors open and disappears into the night. 

“Stay here granny, I’ll go look for her,” Kita says as he gets up, “It’s my fault for never telling her the whole truth.”

Hurriedly, he slips on his shoes and leaves the house in a rush. He’s not even sure where she’d run to, but the fear is bubbling in his chest and reaching his throat. Sweat is falling in beads over his forehead. The anxiety is growing and growing like a flame, making his breath shortened.

He couldn’t lose Erina too. 

Frustration and stress is starting to overwhelm him. Two emotions he’s never had to deal with until Erina’s birth. 

To his relief, however, he passes by the park where you had sat with him while he watched Erina play. He spots your crouched form underneath the flickering lights of the park lamps. The breath stuck in his constricting throat finally relents as he hurries over. 

“(L/n)-san!” 

You look up with a flinch, eyes wide before relaxing at his appearance as you raise a finger to your lips. He nods as you turn slightly to reveal his daughter. The girl clutches close to your front, her cheeks still moist from crying minutes prior. Her breathing has calmed and she sleeps soundly in your arms. 

“Thank you,” he whispers as you adjust your hold on her to carry her properly as you walk with Kita back to his home. 

“Don’t mention it, I was luckily on my way to the local conbini when I saw her run into the park.”

You glance down at the girl, those same kind eyes, and that same motherly smile. They were the same.

The journey back to his home comes to an end and you attempt to pass the child onto her father, but she stirs from her sleep and complains. He wonders if she might’ve been a mama’s girl if she was here. The thought makes his chest tighten briefly. Although, it is quite endearing to see his daughter cling to you like so.

“Sensei has to go back home, be a good girl for your papa okay?” You say as she continues to make it difficult for you to leave. The two of you share a look before she finally relents and allows Yumie to take her, still refusing to face her father. 

“Just let her cool down, she’ll come around,” You say when you catch his downhearted expression. 

“I suppose...” He sighs before glancing at you, “Thank you again, I couldn’t have found her if it wasn’t for you.”

“It’s no problem Kita-san,” You chuckle, “Please, I don’t mind so don’t worry about thanking me.”

Scratching the back of his neck meekly, he decides to press his luck and offers to take you home.

“O-oh no, that would be too much of a hassle, you’re home already and all...” You wave your hands in front of you but he shakes his head.

“No, I’m the one offering, how could I let a woman walk home by herself at this time of night too?”

You pout to his surprise, the expression way too cute for his heart.

“You’re a rather sly man, Kita-san.”

You finally allow him to walk you home, falling into stride alongside one another. The pace is neither too slow or hurried. One question leads to a passionate talk, on your part, about teaching children and how you adore them. There’s an unfamiliar glint in your eyes, a falter in your expression that he notices as you talk, but he chooses not to interrupt. 

In turn, he talks about volleyball, but any story that had to do with high school always led back to her.

“I met my wife in high school,” He admitted meekly, gauging your expression briefly for any signs of discomfort or whatnot, but you smile at him encouragingly. “I was actually a first year when I met her, she had been a second year. She wasn’t the manager for the team or anything romantic like that, really... In fact, she was part of the home economics club.

“She loved cooking. We didn’t start dating until the year after, but she would make me bento boxes every day. It wasn’t until half a year into our relationship did I learn about her weak immune system. She constantly fell ill, and even missed much of third year that she had to be held back. 

“Even then... she still managed to watch my games, although she was never able to come watch us when we went to nationals.”

You listen intently to his stories of his wife, adoring the way his face brightens at times and turns somber the next, his expression a whirlwind of nostalgia. He really loves his wife, and you feel a little jealous and guilty for feeling the way you do. It doesn’t even hit you that you’ve reached your apartment until he stops and motions to your door. 

“O-oh, sorry, I... would you like to come in for some tea? As thanks for walking me home of course!” You stammer as he chuckles heartily at your fluster.

“If I’m not intruding.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, your cheeks burning as you prep the kettle on the stove and search for two mugs. It doesn’t even feel real that he’s in your home, but he’s there when you look over your shoulder to see him seated on the floor cushion at the low table. 

When the tea is ready, you settle down adjacent to him. He receives the mug gratefully, sniffing the hot liquid with an exhale of bliss at the calming aroma. 

“Your wife sounds like an amazing woman,” You say after you take a sip from your own mug.

“She was,” he says cryptically, and before you question it, he beats you to the punch, “How about you? Do you have a lucky man in your life?”

You laugh. Gazing down at your ring finger dreamily.

“I did. Before at least.”

He felt a twist in his chest. Was it because you looked so sad and lonely, or the fact that there was once a man in your life. 

Why should the latter even matter to him?

“Puppy love, straight out of high school. He was any girl’s dream. Intelligent and handsome. We were engaged a little ways through my studies to be an elementary teacher.” The look on your face is one of bliss, remembering your younger days, “We always talked of having a family together, we would move into a nice house with a cute pup and surrounded by our children. 

“At least until I found out, I was infertile. I’d gotten pregnant finally and the baby never made it. It was a deal breaker for our relationship, he’d ended up cheating on me and lashing out on me for being the way I am.

“I spent a very long time mourning for the loss of my child and my relationship. I’d lost everything and blamed it on myself for being like this. 

“I guess after a while, I was teaching and looking after these children as if they were my own, and it had healed me in its own way. I guess I finally accepted where I was, who I was. It still hurts even now, wanting nothing more than my own family, my own child, but teaching them like this makes me happy nonetheless. A lot of my old students often come visit from time to time, it makes me very happy.

“I guess even now... I don’t try to look for a partner out of fear that I won’t be enough due to my condition.”

Your eyes gloss over and he wants to reach over and wipe your tears away, but he keeps himself seated as you smile down at your left hand.

“That’s not true,” he says, “Any man would be lucky to love and be loved by you (L/n)-san.”

Your cheeks grow warm at the comforting words.

Maybe, just maybe, you thought, he could’ve been referring to himself as someone possibly capable of loving you.

“Truthfully... my wife isn’t around because she passed away. The birth had taken a toll on her weak body,” he reveals finally, eyes downcast at the liquid in his mug.

The birth of their daughter had been one of the most happiest and yet saddest moments of his life. It left him a widow and a single parent. 

“I’m so sorry...” You begin but he shakes his head.

“No don’t be...”

“...So does Erina-chan...?”

“I never told her to the whole truth... I didn’t want to make her sad, but she’s constantly asking for her mother and wondering why she is different from the rest of her classmates who do. I only ever explain that mama’s not with us anymore... but I was too afraid to face the truth myself. I see much of Reina in my daughter and I’m so afraid losing her and letting go of her. I don’t want to let go of her hand too.”

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. They had been expecting the arrival of their daughter with excitement. His wife’s immune system had always been poor and he knew that very well. He just never expected the amount of strain child birth had put on her until her hand that was once holding his very firmly, let go.

“I can’t let her go, Reina... Moving on would be leaving her in the past and betraying her love.”

He bites his lip. His emotions were starting to flare at the thought of losing Erina and remembering the loss of his wife. Moving on felt too selfish. He didn’t deserve that. Moving on would be a luxury and almost felt wrong. Like he was choosing to forget Reina.

“Someone as important as Reina-san is very hard to forget, and shouldn’t be forgotten at all,” You start, choosing your words carefully while glancing at his expression every so often, in case you step on a sore spot, “In fact, it is her love that keeps you going, it is her legacy that lives within both yours and Erina-chan’s hearts. Erina-chan is the living proof of both of your love. A beautiful daughter, indeed. She must be very happy watching over you both. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over this, she’d want you to be happy Kita-san. What’s holding you back?”

 “I’m afraid.”

Admittedly, Kita Shinsuke is very afraid.

You empathize with him, seeing a little bit of yourself, when you were at your lowest, in the way he slumps in his seat and glares down at his tea to keep his emotions in check.

“It’s okay to be afraid. It’s natural for us human beings. You just don’t need to rush yourself, Kita-san. Don’t let yourself bottle those kind of feelings. Acknowledge them and respect those emotions, or else you’d be ignoring the feelings that Reina-san has given you. Take all the time you need to make peace with yourself and live on for her.”

Your words are heartfelt and he appreciates it very much.

“Thank you and I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, but I think you owe Erina-chan an apology.”

He still lingers though, despite preparing to leave to head back home. 

You still smile, although sadly this time. “Actually, Kita-san... I know this is sudden... but I need to get this off of my chest... I quite like you, romantically to be more precise.”

His eyes widen. The breath catching in his throat, almost as if he suddenly forgot how to breathe. 

You scratch the back of your neck meekly, looking anywhere but at him, “To be honest with you, I was under the impression that you were a single father but under different circumstances... 

“I was prepared to face the fact that you still loved your wife whether it be separation through divorce but never had I considered her passing; I apologize for my rudeness and over-zealousness.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, in simpler terms, is that I kind of like you Kita-san, and I.. trust me when I say that I never hoped to ever replace Reina-san’s place in your heart, because she is a very special person to both you and Erina-chan... but I cannot just overlook the way I can’t stop thinking about the charming man that comes every morning to see his, just as beautiful, daughter off to school.”

His heart skips a beat, stomach fluttering. Then it twists and he has to bite his lip. You’re looking up at him with tenderness, neither expecting him to share or reject your feelings. You look up at him with those similar eyes that hold so much kindness and patience for him. You don’t expect anything from him, if not a rejection. You had prepared yourself for it when you had realized you were starting to stare far too long at the man when he came in the mornings. 

Your fellow teachers teased you for your crush, asking what you’d do if he was married. He never did have a ring on his finger so you did have some sort of hope. Perhaps you were just a little too ambitious. 

He finally takes a shaky breath, unsure what to say anymore. He didn’t want to hurt you or your feelings. The conflict was evident in the swirl of emotions in his chestnut hues. Brows knitted together and teeth worrying into the plush of his bottom lip. 

If it were your place, you would have kissed him and told him it was okay, there was nothing to worry over. It, however, was not your place to. 

“I’m sorry... I...” He starts, unsure how to answer, but you stop him.

“I know. I didn’t tell you this to force you into anything or rush you into moving on, maybe it was just me after all, falling for you without so much as a date or a proper talk like we just had.”

“(L/n)-san...”

You shake your head, placing your hand over his mouth to quiet him. At the realization of your bold action, you retract your hand with a timid smile. Looking at him finally from under your lashes.

“You should go see your daughter Kita-san.”

How was it, that you were still able to look at him like that? Like he deserved your affections?

He leaves reluctantly. There was no arguing that, not when he’d in-explicitly rejected your feelings, but even so, his chest ached for you. 

The walk back is long. He’s drowning in his own thoughts and worries, regretting his own indecisiveness and fears. This was not like him, where was the confident captain of the strong Inarizaki volleyball club? 

Atsumu would definitely think the world was ending if he saw him distraught like this. One time was enough, the setter being present along with Aran at the birth of his daughter and the death of his wife. 

He slips off his shoes in the foyer, greeting his grandmother who waits for him outside of his bedroom. The elder casts him a meaningful smile before opening the door for him, and closing it once he’s inside. 

The miniature lump under the covers is enough to tell him of his daughter’s whereabouts. She’s wide awake as she immediately turns her back to him upon noticing his presence.

Settling into bed, he releases a soft breath.

“I’m sorry Eri-chan. Papa made you mad. Please forgive me.” 

His arms reach out carefully, slipping around her middle to pull her close cradle her smaller body close to him. The hold is firm and unyielding despite her silence, afraid that she’ll let go just like Reina. 

“Mama... she... she’s an angel now. She watches over us, you, me, and even granny. I’m sorry for keeping this from you.”

A moment passes before he feels her body tremble, sniffles that turn into quiet sobs. The girl turns over to clutch her father close.

“I love you Papa, no matter what!”

“I love you too,” He replies with a soft smile, relief and adoration swimming in his eyes.

Like this, they fall asleep, tired from the events of the day. 

It’s the weekend the next morning and he allows the girl to sleep a little longer as he slips out of the room. Dawn has just barely broken through the night and he stretches his limbs before taking a seat on the engawa in a daze. He can’t stop thinking about you. He never could. 

It had unsettled him however, that he might’ve been deluding himself into thinking he liked you. There was always the possibility that he only was attracted to you for your similarities with his wife. He didn’t want to take advantage of your feelings because of that. It wasn’t fair to you. 

“Ahhh I messed up,” he mutters exasperatedly

“Messed up? I never thought I’d see the day you say such a thing, Shin-chan. You finally made up with Eri-chan though, what’s troubling you so?” Yumie asks as she takes a seat beside him.

“(L/n)-san confessed to me.”

The woman continues to watch the sun rise without waver. She must’ve expected it after all. 

“And? What are you planning on doing? Does it still feel wrong? Is it something you don’t want? Shin-chan, you just need to choose what’s best for you. Both Eri-chan and I want you to be happy. Trust yourself as you always do. Where is that unwavering confidence I always saw in you back in your volleyball days?”

His eyes glimmer. 

“Granny...”

“What is it that you want?” She asks again, “Why not be selfish just this once, you deserve happiness, Shin-chan.”

His grandmother’s right, and he knows it. The same thoughts continue to boggle his conscience even as a few days pass and he continues to walk Erina to school. You both steal glances at one another, but he’s still unsure of what to do. 

“How’s my cute 'lil God-daughter?” Atsumu asks heartily when he comes home for the week, inviting Kita for lunch at Onigiri Miya. 

“Our God-daughter,” Osamu corrects as he sets down a platter of their favorites. He smiles at their ex-captain, gesturing towards the onigiri with his hand, “Made fresh only from the best rice around of course.”

Kita chuckles and nods his head in thanks. Truthfully, there had been a whole entire chaos when word had broke out among his old volleyball club members that he was having a daughter. The boys were ecstatic about being uncles to Erina and made a whole fuss about who was to be her God-fathers. In the end, Aran and the twins had been chosen.

“No need to be salty when yer clearly not the cool uncle,” Atsumu sticks his tongue out at his brother. 

“I’m sorry? Who almost broke ‘er arm when...” Osamu trails off immediately, sweat dropping down his temple at Kita’s tight-lipped smile.

“When what?”

“Nothing!” The blonde interjects with a shaky laugh, “How’ve ya been Kita-san? How’s Eri-chan and Yumie-san?”

He’d almost forgotten about his whole dilemma until then, his expression faltering as he glances down at the onigiri in his hands. 

“It’s been... okay... I guess.”

The two blink at him in unison. 

“You guess? Who are ya, and what have ya done with Kita-san?”

The elder shoots them a hardened look, unamused by the question. 

“What’s botherin’ ya? It’s not everyday we see ya this unsure,” Osamu asks thoughtfully, remembering the days of their ever robotic captain. Robust and always confident, they had never thought they’d ever see their ex-captain downtrodden like this. At least not since Reina. 

Just like in high school, when he surprised the team in a sudden spurt of emotion and teared up at being offered the title of captain, they were still never used to the sudden burst of emotions he was capable of at the birth of his daughter and the passing of his wife. The same shock remains as he lets his sadness cross over expression.

He finally relents under their pressing stares, explaining the situation revolving his attraction towards Erina’s teacher... and well, your reciprocated affections. He expressed his fears, his feelings, anything and everything that held him back.

“Is she pretty?” Atsumu grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively before yelping when Osamu smacks him upside his head. 

Kita casts him a blank look, biting his lip to hold back the fond smile that crosses his expression. 

“She’s very pretty.”

Osamu elbows his brother before he can open his mouth. “Kita-san, from what you said just now, she sounds like a very kind woman and honestly I believe you deserve happiness. You’re not at fault for anything, you’ve done nothing wrong, but you need to trust yourself, trust (L/n)-san, and decide what it is you want.

“I can see where you’re coming from, comparing (L/n)-san to Reina, but you need to look at her as her own person. She also deserves that much.”

The older twin nods in agreement, “It’s not everyday I get to give you advice Kita-san, but I agree with Yumie-san, you should let yourself be selfish just this once.” 

“You both deserve a second chance at love.”

.

It’s a lazy night after finishing all of your grading for the weekend. You order takeout instead of cooking and cozy up in your sleeping clothes with a blanket and plush pillow. Perhaps a romance movie to quell the ache of your rejection. 

You were just about ready to watch your selected flick when the doorbell rang. Blinking, you hadn’t expected company, other than the delivery man at least. With not much effort put into your appearance, you shrug at your unkempt hair and lack of professional clothing and answer the door.

“Hey.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. Kita stands tall and confident at your apartment door step, and yet there was something timid about the way his eyes glanced down at you shyly, his fingers clasped at his sides. 

“Hi,” You reply immediately before feeling the heat creep up your neck. To your horror, his eyes glance down your sleeping attire and you hold out your hand to stop him. “S-sorry, I apologize for coming out looking like this... I wasn’t necessarily expecting visitors at this time.”

He blinks once, then twice, before chuckling softly. The sound is warm and fluffy, making your heart flutter effortlessly. It almost hurts knowing he didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

“No, I should apologize for showing up unannounced... but I never did quite get your number.”

Huh?

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. 

“Kita-san... are you...”

“Asking for your number? Yes. I am.” He says firmly and confidently, eyes sparkling as he gazes at you with that beautiful and charming smile of his, “Maybe a date to go with it as well?”

“But... I thought... you rejected me...?”

He shook his head, “I never said I didn’t like you back, (L/n)-san. To be quite honest with you, I think you look very adorable like this.” Your fluster is a treat to his eyes as he reaches forward to take your hand in his. It’s warm and soft, and yet strong and calloused from working in the fields. “Thank you for opening my eyes. I thought about it and my own feelings and I want to stop running away and being afraid of the present and accepting my past.”

“If it’s okay with you. I’d really like to try this.”

You look genuinely surprised and touched by his sincere words, his eyes full of determination and adoration as they bore into yours.

“And by this you mean...”

The sly quirk of your glossy lips is tell-tale of your knowing of his intentions, but you like to tease him nonetheless. 

He might never stop seeing her in his everyday life, but he’d come to the acceptance that you were two individual women and he would continue to love and be grateful to his late wife, but he decided he would move forward for his daughter’s sake. 

There was no stopping the way he was falling hard for you. He adored you for who you were and that was what mattered.

“Please grant me the honor of going on a date with you.”

[talesofarcadia78]

Sorceress of Arcadia || Becoming Part 2 (Douxie’s POV)

Summary: Y/n Lake is Jim Lake's older sister. She discovers  that she is sorceress and her brother is the Trollhunter. She and the Trollhunters go on adventures together, they save trolls and humans. Along the way, a friend becomes more than just a friend and discovers their secrets.

Warning: None 

Word count: 5,587 

Tags: @lunariasilver

Previous >> Becoming Part 2 • Next >> Wherefore Art Thou, Trollhunter? 

Ring! Ring! Ring!

My phone started ringing, meaning someone was calling me. I reached my hand over to my nightstand and picked the call up. “Hello?” you said. “Douxie! Where are you? You're late for your shift! Get over here!” Mr. Benoit screamed. “Yes sir!” you replied, hanging up. You were so late. You quickly got dressed and ran out of your apartment. On the way out your cat, Archie stopped you in front of the doorway. “Arch! I’m getting late for my shift! Move!” you scolded him. “Douxie, you're forgetting something,” Archie said. “What?” you asked, getting impatient. “Your shoes!” Archie shouted. You looked down at your feet. They were bare. In all the rush, you had forgotten about your shoes. “Thanks, Arch!” you said, hastily putting my shoes on. “Bye,” Archie said. “Bye!” you shouted back, running out.

You ran across town and into Mr. Benoit’s. You scrambled inside the staffroom and got to work. After about 2 hours, up to finished up your last task and got out of the cafe. You checked the time, it was almost time for your shift at the bookstore. You walked over to the bookstore when you spotted y/n sitting outside the museum. You walked over to her, wondering what she was doing in town, since the whole ankle problem yesterday. You noticed she was looking at her phone. She seemed to be a bit worked up over something. “Looks like someone is frustrated,” you commented. She looked up from her phone to face me. Her e/c eyes were so hypnotizing. You could stare into them all day. You snapped out of your thoughts when y/n started talking. “Oh hey, Douxie. I was just researching but didn’t find out what I was looking for,” she told you. “Ah, I see. Well, I see you're in town, so your ankle must be okay. Right?” you asked, concerned for her. “Yeah, it’s better. It still hurts a bit, but I can handle it,” she said, walking over to a nearby bin to throw some foil.

“Well, are you interested in books?” you asked, wanting her to come by the bookstore and spend some time there. “Yeah. Why?” she asked, curious why as to why you suddenly brought up the topic of books. “Well, the bookstore I work in isn’t far, wanna come?” you asked. “Yeah sure,” she replied.

Yes!

The two of you walked to the bookstore, chatting about her life. When you had arrived, you held the door open for her and bowed. “Why you’re very chivalrous,” she said. “Thank you, m’lady,” you joked.

The two of you walked inside. You noticed y/n walk over to a shelf and started skimming through the titles. You went behind the counter and pulled out a book that Master Merlin had written, back when we were in Camelot. She might be interested, so you walked over to her and tapped her shoulder. She spun around and you held out the book. “What about this?” you asked, handing her the book. She read the title and asked, “ Wait, Camelot as in 12th century, medieval times Camelot?” “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. This book had been here for ages, no one has ever shown any interest in it so far. You’re the first,” you lied. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you had no other choice. If you did not want to reveal your past and get close to her, you had to lie to her. You would tell her eventually but now wasn’t the time. She walked over to a couch and sat down, starting to read it.

You thought of getting something for her, so you walked to the back and got some lemonade out of the fridge. You poured the lemonade into two, glass cups and walked back to the front. “I got lemonade!” You declared, to no one in particular. You saw that y/n jolted up a bit. You must’ve frightened her, but who knows? You went up behind her and handed her a glass. You sat beside her on the couch and looked over her shoulder, wondering if she liked it or not. “Is it good so far?” you asked. “Yeah. It’s interesting to see Merlin’s perspective of Camelot and King Arthur. Plus it’s funny to see the little notes in the margins,” she said, pointing to a note. You had written those notes, wanting to make the book more fun, not just filled with boring facts. So whenever you got a chance, you would write some notes in the margins. It was fun. One time you had gotten caught, resulting in a long lecture from Master Merlin, but after that incident, you never got caught. “Well, I hoped you like it. Want to buy it?” you asked, finishing up your lemonade and putting it on the table in front of you. “Actually yes. How much is it?” she replied, closing the book. “As I said, the book has been lying around for ages, so, it’s on me,” you repeated. “No. You have two jobs and on top of that, you study. You deserve the money,” she denied, getting $15 and handing you the money. You shook my head, shoving the money back into her hand. She looked like she was about to protest when an idea popped into your head. You jumped off the couch.

“What about, you give me the money and in return, I buy you dinner tomorrow,” you suggested. She was quiet for a minute when she replied, “Okay, sounds like a plan”. “Great, it’s a date!” you added. You walked over to the counter and put the money in the cash box. You walked back over to the couch and sat next to her again and started reading with her. You noticed that she had also finished her lemonade and put the glasses away. You looked at the time, 12, meaning it was break time. You walked over to the door and spun the sign from “open” to “on break”. You then walked back over to y/n and sat next to her. Both of you read through the book.

You read the page where Merlin was talking about how Morgana was starting to get the hang of her magic. When you finished reading the page, you wondered why y/n had stopped turning the page. You turned to see her. You realized that she had fallen asleep on my shoulder. You grinned, she looked cute when she was asleep. You bookmarked the page and closed it. You put the book on the table gently, making sure not to wake y/n up, and leaned back into the couch. After a few minutes, your eyelids started to get heavy, and soon enough, you drifted off into sleep, leaning your head on her’s.

It had been about half an hour when you felt someone shaking me gently. You instantly woke up and looked down at y/n and she pointed towards the door to see some people knocking on the door. You sprinted to the door and unlocked it. “Sorry folks! Just drifted off a bit, please come on in,” you apologized to the people and opened the door wider to let people in. “It’s okay lad, We understand if you need to focus some time with your girlfriend,” an old man said, pointing to y/n. “I...uh...um...” you stammered, trying to look for an answer. Sure you had a crush on her, but was it that obvious? “Lad?” the old man waved his hand in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Yes sir! Please come on in,” you answered, gesturing him to come in.

Y/n walked up to you with the book in her hands. “Well, I have to go. I’ll see you later,” she said and was about to leave when you grabbed her wrist without thinking. I am so stupid! “Wait! How am I going to let you know what time I’ll come to pick you up? Do you have an email or a number...” you asked. Y/n smiled at you and then you exchanged numbers. “Thanks, I’ll text you what time I’ll come,” you said. “Oh and come dressed...nicely,” you added. “Sure, you too. Don’t wear, you know...that,” she joked, gesturing to your outfit. “Cheeky!” you teased. Then she left.

You walked back into the store, helping the people who had come in, but your mind was thinking of y/n. She was so sweet, nice and well... everything! Would she even like a guy like me? She must think I am a popular guy that is a jerk and likes to show off. No, I won’t let that happen. Does she know I have a crush on her? Am I that obvious? you push those thoughts aside and focused on my work.

After your shift ended, you said goodbye to my co-worker and left for your apartment. On the way there, you saw Jack, the keyboardist of your band, heading towards you. “Hey, Jack! What’s up?” you said. “Douxie! You missed band practice! Where were you? Our concert is tomorrow!” Jack said. “Band practice! I forgot about that! I’ll practice tonight and I’ll come extra early to school, so we can all practice, so we don’t embarrass ourselves tomorrow night,” you suggested. Then it hit you. “Sounds good Doux!” Jack agreed. “What about the dinner with y/n!” you said, a little too loudly. “Wait, Douxie! You're going to have dinner with y/n! Dude!” Jack said, surprised. “Yeah. I am so stupid! What am I gonna do Jack?” you asked. “Dude! You're going out for dinner with y/n! She is so popular, well in the classes. I was once in her English class, and she was so helpful like everyone loves her! How did you get to know her? Wait do you like her?” Jack teased. “I...yeah. I do like her,” you said, blushing a bit. “Dude! Your lucky to be going out to dinner with her, but at school, be careful. There is a guy named Tyler that has a huge crush on her. They are both in the same Math and HPE class. She doesn’t know that he even exists, but that guy can go to any lengths to get her liking him,” Jack warns. “But you do know that you are friends with her, so more likely she’ll like you than him,” Jack added. “Okay. But how do you know all of this stuff?” you asked, getting suspicious. “That’s confidential, I can’t tell you,” Jack scoffed. “Okay. Just tell me what I should do about the dinner,” you asked, getting a bit impatient. “Just go out tonight. Then tomorrow, you can ask her to come to the concert,” Jack suggested. “Okay, I’ll do that! Thanks, Jack!” You said, running to my apartment.

On the way to the apartment, you texted y/n: Hey, So, I can’t take you out for dinner tomorrow, something came up. But I am free tonight, are you? She replied: Yeah You immediately replied: Great! I’m coming to pick you up in 20 minutes. Bye. She replied: Okay, bye.

You barged into your apartment, seeing Archie sitting on the couch. “Douxie! You shouldn’t just barge in! Have some manners!” Archie scolded. “This is my home Arch! I can barge in anytime! Plus, I’m in a rush!” you shouted, running into my room and opening up my closet. You looked around your closet, trying to find something good to wear. Then your eyes fell onto a black dress shirt and a pair of black pants. You quickly took it and put it on. You looked at yourself in the mirror. The long sleeves of the shirt were bothering you. Archie walked into the room. “Why are you dressed so nicely? You never dress this nicely. Are you going out somewhere?” Archie asked. “Yes. But these sleeves are so uncomfortable!” you sighed. “Just roll them up,” Archie said. You rolled the sleeves up and it instantly felt better. You then got some black shoes and put them on. “Okay Arch! I’m heading out. I’ll be back around 10,” you said, heading out of the room. “Doux! Wear a bow tie! And do you know where you going?” Archie asked. “Why do I need a bow tie?” you whined. “You’ll look more proper. Here,” Archie replied, handing me a navy blue bow tie. You tied it under your collar, while Archie told me a nice restaurant. “Thanks, Arch! How did you know I was going out for dinner? What if I was going to a fancy party or something?” you asked. “I looked through your texts of you and a girl, y/n. Plus, I know you Doux. I have been with you for almost a millennium,” Archie explained, holding up my phone, with the screen showing my texts with y/n. “Arch! Why did you look through my texts! That’s private!” you scolded him, snatching the phone. “Do you like this y/n girl?” Archie asked. “What! No... She’s just a friend,” you lied. “Douxie, you know you can’t lie to me. I know you like-” Archie said, but you cut him off. “We’ll have this conversation another time. Right now, I’m running late,” you said, grabbing the keys to your Vespa, and heading out.

You quickly rode to y/n’s house, parking the Vespa in front of it. You walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. You didn’t have to wait long. The door opened, revealing Jim. “Hey, Jim. I was here to pick up your sister. We’re going out for dinner,” you said. “Hey, Douxie. I’ll call her,” Jim replied. You were about to say that you would bring her back by 10, but that’s when Jim shouted out, “Y/n! Douxie is here!” You winced, that was loud. Jim took a step back from the doorway, revealing y/n heading down. Your eyes widened as soon as you saw her. She was beautiful in the black to navy blue gradient dress. It also matched with your outfit, just like a couple. You saw Jim grin at his sister. He must be happy to see his sister happy. “Come back by 10. It’s a school night,” Jim said, sternly, but you heard a bit of amusement in his voice. “I will,” y/n replied. “Shall we?” you asked, offering your arm to y/n. She took it, stepping outside. She then turned, facing Jim. “Have fun sis. Douxie, take care of my sister, she’s the only one I have. She is the only person I can talk to when no one else would understand, even when Toby wouldn’t understand,” Jim said to you. “Don’t worry Jim! She is under great care for the next 2 hours. I promise,” you reassured him.

Y/n waved to Jim as he closed the door. You walked over to your Vespa and sat. “I never knew you had a Vespa,” y/n said. “And I never knew your brother was very protective of you,” you joked. “Well, that’s true. He’s never been so protective before,” y/n said. “Well, let’s leave your brother to the side for now, and sit behind me,” you said, patting the seat behind you.

Y/n sat behind you as you started the vehicle up. Once it was started, you rode very fast. You felt a jolt from y/n, and turned around slightly, only to see that she was about fall. But just in time, you caught her with one of your hands. “No offense, but you need to ride more safely,” y/n commented, as she put her hands around your waist. You felt your face start to heat up. “I’ll get around to it. For now, just enjoy the view,” you said. Just when your face was starting to cool down, you felt y/n put her chin on your shoulder. This time, your face didn’t heat up, you smiled. It was going well so far.

After about 10 minutes, you had reached the restaurant that Archie had said to go to. Y/n got off, while you parked it. After the two of you made your way into the restaurant. “Wow! You chose a nice restaurant,” y/n said. You thanked her, even though the choice was Archie’s, not yours. You’ll just thank him when you go back home. The two of you walked over to a two-seater table and y/n was about to sit down when it hit you. It wouldn’t be chivalrous for you to just let her sit down. So you stopped her and took out the chair for her and she sat. She was about to pull the chair in when you did it for her. Then you took a seat across from her. You grabbed the menu and looked through the various foods. There were soups, salads and then your eyes lit up when you saw pasta. “Do you want pasta?” you asked, looking up from the menu, at y/n. “I don’t mind,” y/n said. “Which one do you want?” you asked, turning the menu so that she can see. You didn’t know what y/n would want, so you just asked her, plus she might be allergic to something that you choose or just not eat certain types of ingredients. Like some people are gluten-free. She looked at the menu and then asked, “Maybe the macadamia pesto pappardelle? Wait you aren’t allergic to nuts, are you?” “Nope! It sounds good. Nice choice,” you said. Then a waiter came over to you and asked what you would like to order. You noticed that you had seen him somewhere, but you couldn’t place your finger on it. You got out of your thoughts and order and he walked away. “I’m sorry if you found my choice of food, well you know,” y/n said. “It’s okay. I’m guessing you are a vegetarian or a vegan?” you said since you knew that they didn’t eat meat, and she had chosen an option that wasn’t popular on the menu. “Yeah, I just don’t like the idea of eating animals,” y/n explained. From that, you and y/n started talking and finding out a lot about each other.

After you had finished dinner, you both went to the front to pay. You took out your card to pay while y/n did the same. “Are you guys splitting the bill, or is one of you going to pay?” the employee asked. “I’m going to pay,” you and y/n replied at the same time. “Y/n, you bought the book, I buy you dinner. That was the deal,” you said. Taking advantage of her pause, you quickly tapped your card on the machine. She sighed and put her card back into her purse. “Let’s go,” you said, heading out of the restaurant while y/n followed behind.

You started the Vespa and y/n sat on. “Ride safely,” y/n said. “Will do,” you replied, and rode off into the night. It was a silent ride, but not awkward, comfortable. You were about to break the silence, but y/n beat you to it. “Uh, Douxie, maybe you want to go a bit more faster,” she said to you, as she showed you the time. It was 9:55, you needed to hurry. You nodded and sped up a little. You were halfway across the bridge when something jumped in front in front of you. You halted the Vespa to a stop. The thing that had jumped in front of you was huge and had red and orange eyes, that was staring at us. A troll, and none other than Bular. He came towards us, scraping the floor with his sword. “What is that?” you whispered, trying to sound like you didn't know what it was. “Two little flesh bags out and about at night, make tasty meals,” Bular said. “I do not want to be a tasty meal,” y/n whispered. “It has been so long since I had a human for dinner,” Bular said. He kept coming forward. “Douxie, what do we do?” y/n whispered to you. You could hear the fear in her voice and you had to protect her, it was a promise that you made to her brother. “We have to distract him,” you whispered back. “How?” she asked. “I didn’t think that far,” you replied.

Instead, you tried to start up the engine, but it didn’t work, no fuel. You wanted to curse your Vespa right now, but there was a more dire problem right now. “We have to run," you said. You got off the Vespa and looked at Bular. You didn’t want him to recognize you right now. If he did then his desire to kill you would increase, since you had fought with him at the Battle of Killahead Bridge, 9 centuries ago. “I’m sorry lad! But you won’t be having dinner tonight!” you shouted at Bular. Bular roared and ran towards us. You grabbed y/n’s hand and said, “Do you trust me?” She nodded. You ran to the edge of the bridge and jumped down, taking y/n down with you. You landed perfectly, but then you heard a groan behind you. You turned to see, what the matter was. You saw that y/n was holding her ankle in pain. “Y/n! Are you alright?” you asked, getting worried. She did a thumbs up to you, smiling. It looked forced she wasn’t fine. Then at the worst times, Bular jumped in front of you. In a flash, you picked up y/n bridal style and ran. “Sorry y/n, the dinner didn’t go as planned,” you apologized. “It’s okay,” y/n said, peeking over your shoulder, probably to check if Bular was following or not.

You kept running until you had reached y/n’s house. You walked up the stairs and saw that the door was slightly opened. You kicked it open, to see that Jim was sitting on the edge of the couch. He jumped up off the couch and ran towards the two of you. “Y/n! What took you so long? I was worried sick!” Jim exclaimed. “I’m fine,” y/n said. “You are not fine. You are literally in Douxie’s arms for a reason,” Jim said. “It’s her ankle,” you said. “What did you do?” Jim asked, glaring at you. “Nothing! We ran into... trouble. Her ankle started to hurt, so yeah,” you explained. Jim nodded. You set y/n down and waved goodbye. From the corner of your eye, you saw that Jim was glaring at you. You quickly got out of their house and headed down the street.

You checked around to see if anyone was around. When you saw no one, you teleported back to your Vespa. You found out that Bular was gone, so you took your Vespa and teleported to your apartment. Once you were back inside your apartment, you kicked your shoes off and jumped onto your bed. Then Archie walked in. “Doux? Are you okay?” Archie asked. “Yeah... nope,” you replied. “What happened?” Archie asked, jumping onto the bed. “The dinner was good, by the way, the restaurant was very nice, but when we were heading back... Bular tried to kill us. In the process of escaping, y/n’s ankle got worse and when I got to her house, Jim looked very mad at me,” you explained. “And on top of that, I broke a promise.” Archie just nodded. “Well, I think that you should just go to bed and hope that tomorrow will be a better day,” Archie suggested. “I can’t, I have to practice my guitar, for tomorrow’s concert,” you said, getting up and walking to your guitar and started practicing.

After about an hour of practice, your eyelids got heavy, so you had no choice to go to bed.

You woke up the next morning, a bit earlier than you usually do, and got dressed. You walked out of your bedroom and into your kitchen. Archies was already up, and he was sitting on top of the counter. “Good morning Doux,” Archie said. “Morning,” you said. “I have made you coffee,” Archie said, handing you a mug of coffee, “Thanks, Arch. Wait how did you make a coffee? Your just a cat!” you asked. “That’s my secret and secrets are not supposed to be told!” Archie scoffed. You rolled your eyes and gulped down the coffee, getting your guitar and bag and heading out.

You rode your way to school. It was quiet at this time. You walked your way to the band room, seeing that all your bandmates were already there. “Hey, guys! Let’s get started on practice,” you said. “Hey Doux! So how was your dinner, with y/n?” Jack asked. “Oh...um...good!” you replied. “Douxie! You had dinner with y/n! Dude, your lucky,” Henry, the drummer, commented. “Did you tell everyone?” you asked Jack. “Not everyone, just the band,” Jack replied. “Uhh!” you moaned, facepalming. “Don’t worry Douxie. We will not tease you,” Jason, the other guitarist, and the singer reassured you, glaring at the others. Jason didn’t like it when someone gets teased, even if it is just friendly teasing. “C’mon Jason! Where’s the fun in that?!” Jack whined. After another round of whining from Jack and Henry, you all started to rehearse.

After about an hour of rehearsal, you packed your stuff up and secretly teleported your guitar back to your apartment, so you didn’t have to carry it after school. All of you walked out of the band room, going to their usual gossip spots or wherever they went before the first period.

Jason walked beside you, since you two, we're in the same class first period. “Hey, didn’t you need to ask y/n out?” Jason asked, elbowing you in the ribs. “Huh? Do you mean to ask her to come to the concert?” you asked. “Yeah,” Jason replied. “Well I haven’t yet, but I will,” you said. “Well, I see her right there!” Jason exclaimed, pointing to y/n, she was walking in the opposite direction. “Go and ask her out, Doux.” “I’m not asking her out, just inviting her,” you hissed at Jason. He just smirked and shoved you towards y/n’s direction. “Hey y/n!” you shouted, running to her. She spun around, while one of her friends whispered something to her. As you got closer, she greeted you, “Hey, Douxie!” “So from yesterday, is your ankle alright?” you asked, starting a normal conversation, waiting for the right moment to ask her. “Yeah. I’m sorry that my brother was so rude yesterday. He was mad at you, for not keeping your promise,” y/n said. “It’s okay. I’m to blame for though, I promised Jim you would be in great care, and I broke that promise,” you admitted, looking down on the ground, feeling ashamed. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, plus I’m fine now,” y/n reassured you. You shook your head. You were to blame, you had promised that you would take care of her, but you didn’t. You just made her ankle worse. Tears started to form in your eyes, and they dropped to the ground. Y/n up her hand on your shoulder, “Douxie, I’m fine,” y/n said, which made you look up, “See?” She jumped up and down a couple of times to prove her point. “I’m fine,” she repeated, putting her hand back on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. Then, you knew it was time to ask her. You took her hands into yours and looked her in the eyes. “Well can you come to my concert tonight?” you asked. “What time?” she asked. “8:30, at the square,” you replied. “I’ll be there,” she said. “Great!” you grinned and from your excitement, you kissed her cheek, which made her blush a little. You waved goodbye, going the opposite direction, back to Jason. Jason was starring at you, shocked at what he just saw. “You freaking just kissed y/n on the cheek!” Jason exclaimed. He patted you on the back. “It was out of excitement that she said that she’ll come,” you explained. “But why did you invite her half an hour early?” Jason asked. “Well because I want to give her a backstage tour,” you explained. “Okay,” Jason said, then the two of you walked to class.

You were walking over to your bike, to only see a crowd, surrounding someone. You peeked over people’s shoulders and saw that people were crowded around y/n. She looked worried when a girl asked, “Is it true that Douxie kissed you?” Oh, fuzzbuckets! They learned you kissed y/n! You saw a lot more people starting to shoot her questions, she looked like she was going to faint at this point. You pushed through the crowd and grabbed her out of there. She looked up at you. “You alright?” you asked. “Yeah, but my mental state, not so much,” she replied. “People asking too many questions?” you asked, giving her a sympathetic smile. You knew what it was like since so many people asked you questions all day. She nodded. Suddenly, the crowd started surrounded the two of you and started to shoot questions at both of you. “Are you guys dating?” a girl asked. “When did you guys get together?” another asked. For the first time in your life at Arcadia Oaks Academy, you felt insecure answering those questions. Y/n looked up at you, her face full of hope that you would have a plan. You just smiled and took her hand and ran through the crowd, towards the bikes. You both grabbed yours and rides away. When the coast was clear, you stopped. “I don’t know how you do it, managing such a big crowd at school,” she said. “I just do, love,” you said. “Thank you Douxie, for saving me from all those people,” she said. “No problem. You still coming to my concert, right?” you asked, hoping the people didn’t rattle her too much that she wouldn’t come to the concert. She nodded. Phew!

“Doux, I think you have to go. My brother is coming towards us, and I don’t think he’s in the mood to see you right now,” y/n warned you, pointing towards her brother and Toby. “I agree. See you tonight,” you said, giving y/n a salute and rode off the opposite direction to your apartment. You barged into your apartment, which startled Archie, making him jump. “Sorry Arch!” you shouted and went into your room, to get started on homework. After finishing your homework, you got ready for the concert. “Archie! I’ll be back by 10,” you said, walking out of the door. “That’s what you said yesterday, but you didn’t, since you ran into trouble,” Archie said. “Well this time I will,” you said, closing the door. You got your bike and rode over to the square since your apartment wasn’t far from the square. You saw the Jason was already there, starting to set up. “Hey Jason!” you called out. “Hey, Douxie! The others are at Sam’s as well as our backup guitarist! So head over there!” Jason yelled at you. You placed your guitar on the stage and rode over to Sam’s. Who is the backup guitarist?

Once you had reached Sam’s, you saw Jack, Henry, and a guy you didn’t recognize. You walked in and sat in front of Jack and the guy you didn’t know and next to Henry. “Hey Doux. This is Tyler, our backup guitarist,” Henry introduced you. “Hi, nice to meet you,” you said, giving Jack a quick look that asked if he was the same Tyler that had a huge crush on y/n. Jack nodded. “Tyler this is Douxie, well his actual name is Hisirdoux, but he likes to be called Douxie,” Henry said to Tyler. “Hey Douxie, nice to meet you as well,” Tyler said. You just nodded and pasted on a smile, not wanting to be rude. “So how did you guys find Tyler?” you asked. “We saw him practicing his guitar in the music room, and he was awesome! So we thought, why not ask him to be our backup guitarist?” Henry explained. “I’ve seen you around school Douxie, you seem pretty popular. You charm the girls,” Tyler commented, taking a sip from his drink. “Yeah, I guess. I just kinda have that talent, but it’s not intentional, it just happens naturally,” you said. “Mhm, so you can help me with a certain someone then?” Tyler asked. “Um...I’ll try,” you replied. Before he could continue, you quickly checked the time and interrupted, “We should head back to the square, we still need to set up.” All of them nodded, and we all headed back. When you all were back at the square, you could see some people starting to come. You helped out Jason, trying to avoid Tyler from asking you to help him with a ‘certain someone.

Once you had finished setting up, you looked at the time, it was just 10 minutes until 8:30.

[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Twenty Four)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning: (Again, I don’t know if you can tag this as angst.)

Word Count: 2.8k

Tag List: @ailoveyuta​​ 🥰

Masterlist

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24. Sayonara

It's been years. Five years, ten months, twenty-three days, four hours… He can still count the minutes and seconds if he likes but he'll miss her more. 

The last time he knew something about her, she finished her art study in New York and transferred to Canada. After that, he isn't sure what happened to her. 

He went to the country once, telling his friends that it's for business and nothing personal, which they obviously didn't buy. In the end, it was a vain attempt to find her. Like finding a needle in a haystack and even Taeyong said that it's a suicide mission. 

One time, his stepmother visited him and asked help to see her ex-husband to which he agreed. He doesn't have any choice anyway, he also wanted to know what happened to him. And he promised her, that he will take care of his stepmom. 

It was weird to see the two of them, the foster parents of the girl he loved, sitting in front of each other and talking like matured individuals. Didn't they realize that they just ruin someone's life because of their irresponsibility? But what the older man said surprised Yuta, "If ever you see (Y/N), can you tell her that I'm sorry? I know it's not enough but I just want her to know that I'm proud of her even if she's not my daughter." If only she's here to hear that. He'll probably get to see her smile again. 

And now, he badly wants to see her.

--

Yuta smiled to himself as he sat on the business class of the plane to Paris. Their first encounter. She's so fearless back then, shouting in front of a guy who just molested a girl. And she caught his eye that instant, like a magic spell that binds him to her. Koi no Yokan, his premonition of love. And he's still in that bind. He's still in love with her. Only (Y/N).

Paris only brought memories of her. That time he was seated in front of a pastry shop and his eye caught a familiar girl entering the opposite coffee shop. It was still a mystery why he's infatuated with the girl who rejected him at the plane. But that coffee shop date made him sure of one thing, he's not just lusting over this girl. He liked her smile, he liked how sincere her smile is that made his heart hurt. He missed those smiles. He missed her so much. 

Maybe it was too much reminiscing that he forgot to keep an eye on one thing, a person actually. "Fuck, Shiho!"

--

(Y/N) was still astounded at how Paris looked like the place she once saw in the book. She had been here before but didn't get the chance to tour around because of a certain Japanese guy. Her Japanese guy. Her phone rang and she answered the call, rolling her eyes at the other person on the line. "Yes, I'm already here. Where are you?" By now, she's just annoyed. She should be enjoying this day in Paris, why does she have to meet him now? 

She was by a fountain when she saw a young girl crying, seated on the edge of the statue. What is she doing here alone? Where are her parents? (Y/N) crouched down to her height, smiling at her. "Hi." She greeted and the child looked at her, still crying. She's so cute, she thought. "Are you lost? Where are your parents?" 

"Otou-chan left me." The young girl said in Japanese that surprised her. 

(Y/N) had to smile at that. It's weird hearing the word Otou-chan, she's used to saying it to address Yuta. "Do you want me to help you look for your dad?" She said in fluent Japanese that made the sobbing girl look at her in surprise. "What's your name?" 

"Shiho." That's a cute name. "Shiho Nakamoto." What? She wanted her to repeat what she said but a distant voice can be heard calling for 'Shiho'. A voice she badly wanted to hear. "Otou-chan." The young girl shouted in glee, running to the owner of the voice. Shiho Nakamoto? Otou-Chan? Yuta is already married? 

Slowly, she stood up without facing him. How can they meet like this again? And really, of all places, here in Paris? "Excuse me, thank you for staying with…" She just nodded at that, trying her very best to not face him. What if he's with his wife? This will be really awkward. 

"Noona!" Someone called that made her look to the side. Her savior. She didn't care whether Yuta would realize that it was her but she dashed to where Mark is, holding his arm and dragging him away from the place. "Wait, why?" The younger guy asked in panic. 

But she just pulled him until they're inside the museum. "He's here." Mark gave her a confused look and she gestured at the painting hanging by the center of the museum. The guy looked surprised at that, giggling when she looked annoyed.

It pissed her off that of all the paintings that their class made, it was the painting of Yuta that is getting featured in their exhibit. She just did it since she missed him but Mark saw it and showed it to their director that it got chosen as the main exhibit. This is a stupid move. What if he finds this painting? He'll found out that she's not over him yet when he's obviously done with her. God, what should she do if his wife founds out? 

And he has a daughter now? She can't believe that someone experienced Yuta's stamina. Well, the kid is kind of cute and she resembles Yuta's eyes. She should have stared at her longer. Who is the mother of that child? Who is Yuta's wife?

---

That night is the gala for the Asian art exhibit that their school sponsored, a collection of artworks from students that depict Asian culture. (Y/N) is really nervous since it's her work that's going to get the main feature. A total first. 

She passed by the Southeast Asian artworks, mostly paintings. The West Asian part shows pots and ceramics that would bring you to deserts. She stopped at the East Asian part, suddenly missing Korea as photographs welcomed her. The Chinese vases, as well as the Terracotta Warrior replica, amazed her. And when she reached the Japanese part of the exhibit, someone was standing in front of a certain bowl with gold lacquer, 'Kintsukuroi'. 

He looked surprised seeing her in a blue dress, looking as if she really dolled up. Her hair is longer now that he's itching to run his fingers on the threads of her silky hair. "Hi." she chirped. "What are you doing here?" 

Yuta smiled then realized that they're conversing in his mother tongue. Did she learn Japanese? He showed a brochure of the art exhibit, given to special guests of the gala. The sole reason why he went to Paris is because of an art invitation that depicts Asian arts. He can't really say no to the art director. "I thought you're in Canada." She nodded, surprised that he knew that. 

"I started teaching arts in Canada." Teaching? Yuta was surprised, he thought she's still studying. "These are some of my students' work." 

"Oh," Yuta exclaimed, in awe. "That's really good." She smiled, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. Her gaze fell on the teacup with gold, Yuta used to compare her to that. A broken porcelain, his broken porcelain. What is he thinking now? "I'm really proud of you." The sincerity in his voice almost made her choke if not for Mark Lee calling her name from across the room. 

She asked if he could give her a minute and went to where the younger boy is, asking who she was talking to. His eyes widened in surprise realizing who it is. "Your Japanese guy." She shushed him up, asking what he needed help from. He gestured to his tie and she rolled her eyes, pulling the piece of fabric from his neck. "I'm nervous." 

She skillfully made the knot on his tie, patting it when she's done. "Mina will really like you." The older said that made the younger pout, she had to pinch his cheeks at that. Mark told her to get back with Yuta and she giggled at what he meant. 

He said with.  

But she can't do that. He's already married, Mark knows that. 

"You look happier," Yuta noted that made her stop. "Are you dating?" 

He moved on from her. He found another love which should have really happened. It will be awkward to know that she's still in love with the idea of them together. 

(Y/N) breathed heavily. Mark is definitely going to kill her. "Yes." 

"That's great." He said in monotone. She was scared to look at him. Is he hurt? Is he happy? She hoped he is. "I have to go. I'm going to meet my parents outside." His parents are here? "I'll see you around."

He turned around from her but she tapped her foot. There's a question running in her mind for years. A question, she badly wanted to ask him. And if now, when can she have the courage to ask him that? "Yuta." She called which made him turn to her. She sighed a heavy breath that made him curious. "Why didn't you stop me?" He cocked his head to the side at the question. "When I said I'm going to New York, why didn't you stop me?" 

Yuta walked to where she is, taking slow steps until he's in front of her. "If I stopped you that time, you wouldn't have the chance to find yourself." A bitter smile can be seen on his lips. His hand held her cheek which comforted her, Yuta's warmth. "I wouldn't be able to make you happy like this." 

--

What? Her eyes looked up at his and they're glistening under the lights. Twinkling. "I'm proud of you, my daughter." And even if she wanted to hug him, he just turned around without a word. Walking briskly to leave the hall.

Her heart can't lie now. All this time, it's still Yuta. It's still him.

"Can I not attend?" Yuta begged his dad that made Shiho look at him, pouting. She looked so pretty in that blue dress, the same hue as her dress. "I might just cry inside."

The older man laughed at that, tapping his son's back. "You should have told her that you're still in love with her." But Yuta shook his head, she already moved on. As she should be. She's happier. There's nothing he can do to bring her back to his life. 

He breathed heavily as tears fell from his eyes. The sadness all these years bottled up in this emotion. "Dad…" he called as the older man held him in his arms. "I don't want her to see me like this. Can I just stay at the hotel?" 

"Son, this is your last chance. You might not see her again after this." He said that made him look at the older. He's right. It's been years since he hoped for this to happen. And here she is, in front of him. "It's your last chance to tell her everything you want to say. I don't want you to regret this." This might really be his last chance to say everything bottled up inside him these past years. 

She needed to at least know that he's still holding on for her.

--

The gala was a classy one, filled with wine and classy people from different nationalities. Yuta was just seated at their table as he watched his parents mingle with the other people they knew. 

His eyes frantically tried to look for her but she's nowhere in sight. And why did he forget the face of her boyfriend? Maybe he can spot him in the crowd and ask him if he can talk to her like a true man. Some young girls were looking his way but he's not interested. It's still her that he wants. 

Some girls were giggling at him. Great! Because it's funny to see a single guy seated next to a young child as if in a kiddie restaurant. He cursed when he realized that Shiho is nowhere in sight again. Where the hell could that child be? And why is he so distracted?

But before he could stand up, he saw her talking to an older girl with the same blue dress like her. He just watched in awe at how they looked so good next to each other. How natural she looked talking to a child. 

If only she didn't leave for New York, they might have a child now. A son perhaps. But will she smile like this if she stayed? Will she be happier if she's next to him?

"Shiho, okasan is calling you," Yuta said that made (Y/N) look at him. The younger girl waved her hands to say goodbye to the older and she giggled at how cute she is. The older tried seeing where her mom is but the crowd blocked her view. 

A hand appeared in front of her to help her stand up but she refused to hold it, she might get used to his warmth. He's married, for crying out loud. He should be with his family, not here next to her. "(Y/N)," He called. 

She had to prevent herself from tearing up at that. He just called her name, why is she getting emotional? Or is it because she's still not done crying about him? He sighed loudly, "I don't know where to begin but I…" 

The lights dimmed as the speaker announced the highlight of the exhibit. (Y/N) cursed that made Yuta look at her in worry. Her eyes were full of horror as he stepped closer to check on her. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Yuta shouldn't see the painting, his wife and child shouldn't. No one should. But it's too late. Why did she have to forget about it? 

(Y/N) was called on the stage by the art director and she gave Yuta an apologetic look. She'll just tell everyone that she's done with these feelings so he wouldn't get bothered by it. Yes. She should do that. 

The written speech on the podium was discarded as she closed her eyes and breathed heavily. She greeted everyone in English, wishing that everyone had a nice time looking at the artworks that they prepared. She introduced herself as a faculty of the Art School then started the speech about her getting interested in Japanese culture. "Hatsukoi." She said then stared at one guy in the crowd who was looking at her as well. "First Love." 

She smiled, remembering all the times she had with Yuta. When she discovered that warm feeling of falling in love. A feeling she wanted to erase or she'll definitely get hurt again. "They said your first love never dies. True, it won't change." She introduced that made the audience smile adoringly. "But it will die, given the time." A collective gasp can be heard. Even the director was surprised at the sudden shift of her voice. She should have introduced the wonder of first love, to make the audience fall in love. They're in Paris, the City of Love. 

"The purpose of this artwork is to show the feeling of first love." She looked at her first love, wishing that her last words would resonate to him. "But first loves can also be painful. So this is my goodbye to my first love." She said with a proud smile but in reality, she wanted to badly cry. If she speaks more, they'll surely hear the strain in her voice. A huge lump in her throat that she cannot gulp down. "Sayonara…" The spotlight shone on the artwork, earning everyone's attention, even his. "Yuta." She whispered away from the mic. 

When Yuta returned his gaze at the podium, she's nowhere to be seen. Why is she always shaking him like this? A goodbye to her first love? Is this her goodbye to him? "Onii-chan, isn't that you?" Shiho asked, pointing at the splitting canvas of him surrounded by cherry blossom petals. He attracted the nearby attention as the artist's first love, the subject of the painting. They even complimented her for the amazing art style and that she really made an exact copy of his face on the canvas. 

Yuta sighed. So this is it, really. She really did mean it when she said 'sayonara' before, it's not possible that she's really doing her 'sayonara' now. His dad was right, he will regret that he didn't take the chance to talk to her.

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Chapter 23 / Chapter 25 

Quick note: (I don’t know what’s happening to my posts but the paragraphs sometimes get jumbled. I edited all the chapters and I’ll check on it later to see if there are still some mistakes. I’m sorry. If you read this, thank you. There’s only one chapter left for Otou-chan and I would really like to know what you think of the story. That will mean so much. Again, thank you for taking time in reading this. Your feedback will be highly appreciated.)