#and then just accepting that without questioning it

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 30] Graduation

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Fluff

*THIS IS IT thank you all so much for reading, this truly has been a journey and I couldn't have done it without your support. love you all so much🫂❤️

**Too lazy to put all the smut warnings, it's nothing too extreme just some face sitting and whatnot :p

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“Are you ready to go?” Satoru asks, walking into your room to find you sitting in front of the vanity. You’re finishing up your makeup, putting the lash touch on your lips. His heart skips a beat, and he could faint right at this moment. He’s the luckiest man alive. He still has to rush you, “You can’t be late to your own graduation.”

“Is Anzu ready?” You question, and Satoru hums in response. He walks over to the bed and takes a seat to watch you.

“What? Do you not think I’m responsible enough? I can handle a baby.” Satoru says, as if you didn’t find your daughter nearly chewing an extension cord yesterday because he took his eyes off her for a second. You’re taking an awfully long time to answer the question which makes Satoru scoff, “She’s ready and with your mom.”

“Good.” You answer, turning your attention back to yourself yet again. Which type of earrings will be best? Satoru got you some beautiful diamond earrings for this occasion but you’re not sure you want to wear them– You don’t want to show off to everybody that your fiancé is filthy rich.

“Why don’t you put on the ones I got you?” Satoru sees that you’re struggling to pick the earrings you’ll wear for the night, so he’ll make a suggestion. You ignore him though, and he can’t help but laugh. He stands up, “I’ll go check on Ren while you finish up then.”

“Yeah, make sure he showered.” You tell him, and Satoru hums in response. He walks out of the room, getting ready to deal with the nine-year-old even though the child only seems to listen to you. The man feels like neither of his kids really listen to him, but he guesses he deserves it.

You smile back at yourself in the mirror, elated with how things go. Accepting Satoru’s breakfast offer as a date made your life change– You’d argue for the better, though some people didn’t want you and Satoru to get back together. It took you a while to officially start dating, since Satoru was married; even though you knew his marriage wasn’t authentic, you didn’t want to interfere with any of the mess that was going on.

Satoru began the divorce process with Sayo not too long after asking you out. It was a mutual decision that they kept hidden for as long as they possibly could. Even after their divorce was finalized, they refused to share the news with Sayo’s parents. You understood completely, knowing that it was a bigger issue than what it seemed. You had Satoru all to yourself either way, you didn’t really care what a random pair of old people thought. 

The truth came to light eventually, when you got pregnant with your baby girl. It ended Sayo’s relationship with her parents, but time has passed and she’s much happier without them. It was around two years ago, when Ren kept begging for a baby brother, and Satoru convinced you that it would be a great idea. You wanted another baby so there wasn’t the need for too much convincing either way. Unluckily for Ren, Anzu ended up being a baby girl. 

If you were given the chance to go back in time and change something, you’d keep everything the same. Maybe you would’ve kicked Satoru’s groin once or twice, but you’d do it all again. For Ren, for Anzu. For Satoru as well, though you wouldn’t admit it outloud.

“Ren isn’t ready!” Satoru yells, and you can’t help but chuckle as you roll your eyes. Your sweet baby boy is slowly becoming disobedient, and it’s a bit frustrating. You knew it was going to happen eventually, it’s just hard to believe that your baby boy is slowly setting off on his own adventure.

“Ren! Come here!” You yell, and within a matter of seconds your son comes running into your room. He doesn’t listen to Satoru, but you? He’ll listen to almost everything you have to say.

“What’s up?” He asks, and you look him over. You shake your head disappointedly, seeing that he’s still wearing pajamas.

“Do you want to stay home? Mrs. Gojo is more than happy to babysit.” Even when the woman is about to become your mother-in-law, you refuse to call her anything other than Mrs. Gojo. She’s the grandmother of your two kids, but you refuse to acknowledge her in any other way.

You barely have a relationship with her, for many reasons. Main one is that Satoru doesn’t really want to associate himself with her, not after everything that went down with Ren. Frankly, the only reason he even speaks to her is because Ren adores her– Though you believe that his opinion about his grandma is slowly changing because Ren quickly shakes his head.

“We’re going to her home later anyway, you can stand behind.” You assure him, but he shakes his head before darting out of the room. You almost laugh before yelling, “Make sure you don’t stink!”

“There she is!” You hear Satoru yell, and you turn around to find him with your little family. Your one-year-old squeals at the sight of her mother, while Ren glares at the baby for stealing his spotlight. You walk over to them, taking your baby Anzu into your arms before leaning down to kiss Ren’s forehead. 

“Did you have fun there, Ren?” You ask him, and he shakes his head. He’s not going to have much fun watching a bunch of people that he doesn’t know walk across a stage. Satoru didn’t even give the child his phone. 

“Ignore him, he’s been whining all day long. Where’s my kiss?” Satoru quickly changes the topic and you roll your eyes before pecking his lips. He tries to hug you without squashing the baby, saying, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You respond, pecking his lips once again. You notice a couple of missing people from your group, and you question, “Where’s my mom? And Sayo and Shoko? Their little guy?”

“Bathroom.” Ren answers, and you raise your brows. All of them? You can’t exactly blame them, the ceremony was a long one.

“How about we–” You begin but you notice that your little guy is pouty. You know the reason immediately, so you hand Satoru your baby girl and crouch down to bring the child into a hug. “Am I not getting congratulations from the person that I care about the most?”

“Anzu can’t talk yet.” He answers, which almost makes you laugh. Almost. He’s so jealous of his baby sister, which is kind of ironic considering he begged you to have a baby. His attitude certainly changed when he realized that the baby requires a lot of time and attention.

“Ren, you’re the apple of my eye.” You tell him, though the child refuses to listen. Cuddles are less frequent lately since you have a crying baby that needs you, and you barely play with him anymore. “Can mommy at least get a congratulations?”

“Congratulations, mom.” Ren responds, and you feel your heart melt. Even when he’s mad at you, he’s your cute little guy. You’re rubbing your cheek with his, being as affectionate as you can be with the little guy. Though he ends up pushing you away, telling you, “You’re doing too much.” 

“Jeez, what is it with you? One moment you’re all jealous and the next you’re saying I’m doing too much.” You chuckle, standing up. You take the baby from your fiancé, knowing that she still has a long way before she can tell you that you’re doing too much. 

“Can we leave before we bump into any traffic?” Satoru asks, reading the time on his watch. Not that he’s thrilled to go to his mother’s house, but he’d prefer to be there than sitting in traffic for hours on end. He sees your eyes wandering around for the rest of your group but before you get any ideas he reminds you, “You don’t want to sit in a car with a screaming one-year-old, do you?”

“Yeah… I guess we’ll just meet them at your mom’s place.” You answer, knowing that once your baby girl begins to cry, it’s hard to get her to stop. Good thing for you, she’s usually all smiles and giggles.

“She’s drooling.” Ren points at his sister, who’s making a mess on your gown. Ren then turns his attention to his dad, asking, “I wasn’t a messy baby like her, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Satoru mutters, and you glare at him.

“Let’s get going.”

The graduation party is for you, a way for Mrs. Gojo to congratulate you on finally finishing your bachelor’s. In reality, it’s a way for her to see her grandchildren. A way for her to spoil Ren and dote on Anzu. 

Things between the two of you go back to the way they were: she barely notices you and you don’t acknowledge her. You’re no longer relying on her in any way, and apart from asking about your kids, the woman won’t bother to contact you. She’s fine with the change of you becoming Satoru’s fiancée– And even if she was opposed to it, Satoru won’t listen to her. As a matter of fact, Satoru never calls her first.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing yourself a plate of food, watching as Mrs. Gojo holds your baby. It’s odd to watch her be so… Soft with someone. Sure, she enables Ren and is willing to do anything he wants, but Ren sets the tone. You’ve never watched her with a baby before.

“Who’s my pretty girl?” The woman is putting a baby voice for fuck’s sake, something she never did for her own son. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s just grandma now, she doesn’t have to worry about anything but her grandchildren. Anzu is giggling, so Mrs. Gojo is doing something right.

“I can’t believe that’s my mother.” Satoru approaches you, a little disgusted to watch his mother like this. He should be happy, but it’s a little weird to watch such a cold woman put on a baby voice and entertain a baby. “That is my mother, right? They didn’t change her after her facelift?”

“I’m right here, Satoru. Just because I’m holding a baby doesn’t mean that my ears have disappeared.” She quickly scolds her son, and you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t get a facelift either.”

“Right, you just spent two months in South Korea touring.” Satoru retorts, grabbing a plate for himself. They begin to bicker, and as entertaining as it is to watch them, you leave them alone to sort out their own issues.

You walk to the living room to find Ren playing with Shoko and Sayo’s baby– Something that he won’t do with his own baby sister. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s not the baby brother that Ren wanted or if it’s because he’s not getting the same amount of attention as before. Sayo keeps a close eye on the child, not because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s an overprotective mother. You sit beside him, excited to watch him play and be sweet with a baby, even if it isn’t your baby girl.

“He’s so sweet. Is he like this with Anzu?” Sayo asks, ruffling Ren’s hair as he plays peek-a-boo with the ten-month-old baby. You scoff, as if. Your reaction is the best answer that she needs, and she chuckles. She’s not sure if that’s normal behavior between siblings since she’s an only child.

“What do you mean you aren’t the sweetest older brother to Anzu? You were so excited to be a big brother.” Shoko points out, and Ren’s brows come together. He knows he can’t be mean to his auntie Shoko… So he simply glares at her.

“I don’t want to play with your baby anymore.” He responds. It’s his way of punishing Shoko for the question.

“Damn, can’t take any sort of criticism. You really don’t need a DNA test, that’s one hundred percent Satoru’s kid.” Shoko says, which earns a laugh from you.

“Babe…” Sayo says through gritted teeth, which makes Shoko roll her eyes. God forbid she points out one thing.

“He’s just a little jealous, but he loves his baby sister.” You tease him, pinching your baby boy’s cheek, and he puffs out a breath. Maybe he does like her a bit. Ren doesn’t defend himself, deciding that he’s just going to grab some food from your plate as a punishment. Though it isn’t exactly a punishment for you, you’re always happy to watch your baby eat. “Do you want me to make you a plate, honey?”

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters, crossing his arms. He stands up from his seat, and walks to the stairs, planning to go to the room that his grandma has for him. He might not have his parents undivided attention anymore, but at the very least he still has a room that’s full of games that’s just for him (as if he didn’t have one in your home either). 

“He really is Satoru’s kid…” Shoko comments when Ren is out of sight, and Sayo scolds her again.

“He is, he looks just like me.” Satoru pops into the living room unannounced, which catches Shoko off guard. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, since it’s a critique of his character but she doesn’t find a care to give. He comes back holding Anzu after nearly having to fight his mother to get her. He sits down next to you, reaching for some of the food on your plate. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t a compliment since it’s coming from you.”

“I can be nice, you know.” Shoko responds, and Satoru laughs as if a joke had just come from her lips. Nice… He’ll believe it when he sees it though. Satoru takes a bite of the food that he’s taken from your plate, and he grimaces.

“Did my mom cook or what? This is disgusting.” Satoru can’t even chew the food. Unluckily for him, he doesn’t have anywhere where he can spit the food so he’s forced to swallow. Anzu is screaming, little hand trying to reach for the food. Satoru covers her eyes, “Don’t even look there, my love. There’s no way I’m letting you eat that.”

“It’s not that bad.” You tell him, tasting the food yourself. 

“Well what is it? Am I getting a plate for myself or not?” Shoko asks, reaching over to grab some food from your plate as well. Suddenly your plate has become everyone’s plate; you’re used to it at home with Satoru and Ren, but now Shoko is on the list.

“I wouldn’t trust her with food, she’s always claiming she wants to eat the baby’s cheeks.” Satoru argues, and you click your tongue knowing damn well that he says the same thing.

“Anzu has the cutest, chubbiest cheeks, I understand.” Sayo chimes in before looking at her own baby and kissing his cheeks. Shoko takes a bite, keeping her face neutral as she chews the food. 

“It’s not that bad, Satoru. You’re just dramatic.” Shoko responds, and Satoru pouts. He brings some of the food to the baby’s lips– Even though he claimed he wasn’t going to let her taste, he needs someone to prove him right and that someone will be his one-year-old daughter that spits everything back up.

“Taste this, love.” Satoru says as Anzu bites into the food. Within moments it dribbles down her chin, and back into Satoru’s hand. He’s grossed out, but at least his point has been proven. “Anzu doesn’t like it so…”

“Are you trying to prove your point by using a baby that just stopped breastfeeding?” Shoko questions, and Satoru glares at her. She can’t help but chuckle, “Man, your son is just like you.”

“I’m going to talk to him since he appreciates me.” Satoru stands up, and begins to walk to the stairs, but your voice stops him. You call out his name, and he expects some sort of apology from you but instead you ask,

“Have you seen my mom?”

“She popped into the kitchen to talk to my mom.” He answers before leaving. You’re unphased by the response. The women that don’t get along in any other circumstance, sit together to talk about their grandchildren. They can be cordial with each other once every six months.

Though Satoru doesn’t pay much attention to them, his focus right now is on his baby boy that sits alone in the game room. Ren sits down on the floor, reading to himself. Satoru doesn’t want to interrupt the healthy habit, but at the same time he doesn’t want Ren to sit by himself during the party. He takes a moment to wash his hands before joining Ren.

“Why are you here, honey? We’re celebrating your mom downstairs.” Satoru sits down beside Ren on the floor, and he feels ten years older as he hears his bones crack. Ren barely looks up from his book, side-eyeing his sister, which makes Satoru want to roll his eyes. Isn’t he a little too old to be jealous of a baby? Matter of fact, he begged to be a big brother. “What is your issue with her? What has she done to you?”

“Nothin’.” Ren claims, his eyes landing on his book again. Satoru sighs, letting the baby on the floor so she can walk around and do as she pleases. She chooses to stay nearby, walking over to her brother to take the book that he has in his hands. “See.”

“Anzu, go over there. Chew on the power cords.” Satoru redirects her elsewhere, and the baby whines because she wants something else. “So she takes all your stuff, is that why you don’t like her? You have a lot, Ren.”

“Not just my stuff. Everyone likes her better. You, mom, granny, grammy, the nanny. I used to be everyone’s favorite but then the cute baby came along.” Ren confesses, and Satoru fights back the urge of pointing out that he called Anzu cute. It’s not about the baby right now, Satoru reminds himself.

“You’re still everyone’s favorite, Ren.” Satoru tells a little white lie– There are no favorites in the family, he loves both of his kids equally. But the baby can’t understand him, it’s why he told her to chew on a power cord. “Everyone is just excited about the new baby, it’s not that you’re not the favorite anymore.”

“Why does she get away with everything then?” Ren asks as if he didn’t know any better. He’ll act dumb simply because he’s jealous. He doesn’t ask why Sayo and Shoko’s baby gets away with everything, because Ren knows that it’s just a baby… He just doesn’t have the same feelings about Anzu.

“Well for one thing she goes potty in her pants so… She isn’t really conscious about her actions.” Satoru answers, and Ren puffs out a breath. Satoru got him there. “Anzu just needs a lot of attention because she’s–”

“Don’t do that!” Ren cuts off his father when he realizes that Anzu is doing what Satoru told her to do earlier. Ren takes the cord out of her hand, and she lets out a cry. He’s going to complain about her, but he loves her.

“She’ll grow on you.” Satoru says, standing up to grab his walking baby and get out of Ren’s hair. Ren doesn’t like the baby but he certainly loves her. “But come downstairs, Ren. We’re celebrating your mommy’s achievement. She was talking about hanging up her diploma next to your kindergarten diploma.”

“Can you tell them I don’t want to talk about Anzu?” Ren asks, and Satoru hums in response. Satoru extends his hand for Ren to take, and the child takes it without an issue before both head back downstairs to spend time with you.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru approaches you as you sit on the ground outside, in his mother’s garden. You’re hiding from everyone. After hours of talking to people inside, you need a break from the small group.

“Need a minute.” You answer, and Satoru decides to sit down next to you. The kids are fine with their grandmothers, he can take a moment alone with you and properly congratulate you. He throws his arm over your shoulder and brings you close to him. “We should’ve just gone out to eat at a restaurant and called it a day. I don’t have the energy to be so social.”

“I got you a trip to Bora Bora. You just have to power through these last couple of hours… We can get Anzu to throw a fit and make it a few minutes.” He responds and you chuckle. You rest your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes for a moment. Being social shouldn’t be so draining.

“Can we leave the kids with granny?” You ask him, and he hums in response. He had no plans on taking them; he loves them, but they sure know how to ruin a vacation. 

Your gaze falls on his face, looking into the blue eyes you fell in love with so long ago. Even though it was an eternity ago, he still makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t let you stare for too long before he steals a kiss from you.

“If you stare for too long you might find me ugly.” Satoru tells you and you roll your eyes. If you don’t find him ugly first thing in the morning then you’re definitely not finding him ugly now.

“Are you saying that because–” You begin but the man cuts you off before you can finish your question. He knows you, he knows that you’ll start a petty fight with a dumb question.

“Because I love you so much, and I think I’m not good enough for you– I know I’m not good enough for you, you’re perfect.” Satoru responds, making you grin from ear to ear. He isn’t exactly wrong, he’s lucky that you considered getting back together with him at all.

“I love you too even though you’re…” You bite your tongue before you insult him. He raises a brow and before he can question anything, your lips land on his. His cheeks begin to turn pink when you peck his lips over and over again, feeling like a teenager all over again.

You stare into his eyes when you stop, watching the sparkle in them as he looks back at you. He’s utterly in love with you, and the feeling only gets more intense as time passes. He caresses your face with the back of his hand ever so lovingly. You get lost in his loving eyes until your eyes shift to the flowers behind him.

“Oh my–” You gasp, your eyes widening as you realize. “This is where you used to pick flowers for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Satoru laughs, turning to pick a lily for you. It’s been years since he’s been in this place. Maybe he should come here more often. “A flower for my flower.”

“Cheesy.” You take it from his hands, wanting to roll your eyes because of his comment– But your face is getting hot. Even when he’s cheesy your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Yeah, cheesy is what got me two kids.” He retorts. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Gojo?”

“Calling me Mrs. Gojo is going to make you single.” You warn him, and he fights back on laughing. “Don’t make me divorce you before getting married.”

“What? Are you going to Suguru for a rebound again?” Satoru questions, making you glare at him. Maybe he should just listen and agree, not everything needs a response from him. “I’m just joking, baby. He has a girlfriend now and whatnot.”

“You better stick to your day job, you have no future as a comedian.” You say, standing up from the ground to go back inside, and of course, Satoru follows like a lost puppy. He’s simply lost without you.

You love spending time with your kids, you love them more than anything– But you’re not going to pass up on the opportunity of a sleepover. Having them off your hands for the night is a blessing sometimes. You simply want to celebrate with your fiancé in a way that your kids make difficult.

“I’ll run you a bath.” Satoru tells you, running to go upstairs to get to the bathroom before you. Running you a bath that he’ll end up joining, that’s not too bad. It’s a nice way to end the night, that you know for sure.

You give him a moment to set everything up, pulling out your phone to answer a couple of messages of people congratulating you for finishing your degree. What’s next? You’re not too sure. But whatever you decide it’s fine. You have Satoru and your kids by your side no matter what. The money also helps.

Right now, you know you want to relax in a bathtub full of bubbles. Maybe have Satoru right next to you. You’ve been looking into the future for the past ten years, for once you just want to sit back and appreciate the moment. 

“Are you coming?!” You hear Satoru as you walk up the stairs. He’s so impatient, he can’t even wait a minute. You won’t hurry up to please him, as a matter of fact, you walk slower. Satoru is tapping his foot on the floor when you finally get to the bedroom.

“Finally.” He says, walking over to you to zip down the zipper that holds your dress together. He’s desperate to get you naked. You’re chuckling, reminding him,

“No need for you to be in a rush, we have all night.” But it goes in one ear and out the other. Before you know it, he turns you around, his lips landing on yours. His kiss is full of desire, needing to feel your every touch on his skin. He’s burning up to feel you.

“Fuck, I want you so fucking bad.” He pulls away from the kiss as the dress drops to the ground. He picks you up from the floor and puts you down on the bed, smirking at the black lingerie that will soon be removed. “So perfect for me, love.”

“Fuck me, Satoru.” You tell him, voice seductive that can get him to drop to his knees in an instant. The bath that’s filled up and with bubbles is long forgotten by both of you. He takes off his shirt and pants, leaving his briefs. Your eyes stare at the tent that makes him ever so uncomfortable. You sit up on the bed, your fingers going directly to the erection.

Your index finger goes underneath the band of his underwear, eyes looking up at him as you pull his briefs down. Your eyes quickly avert to his cock, wrapping around the base of it. You slowly move your hand from base to tip as pre-cum leaks from the tip. Your tongue licks it up, circling around it as the man bites down on his lip.

Your mouth wraps around all it can take, bobbing your head slowly. You take what your mouth can handle. He can’t complain because it’s just perfect. Everything you do in Satoru’s eyes is perfect. The pace is slow, but it gradually gets faster. 

You look up at him to find him biting his lip, his eyes shut. You take his cock out of your mouth, and begin to run your hand up and down his shaft, your saliva serving as a lubricant. He finally opens his eyes to look down at you, but his teeth remain on his bottom lip.

“I want to hear you.” You say, a rather demanding tone in your voice. He stops biting down on his lip, and your hand continues to jerk him off for a couple of seconds before your mouth wraps around his cock again.

He’s groaning at your every move, which is like music to your ears. You look up at him to find him looking back down at you. He knows you’re more than satisfied with him, with how he sounds. It’s nice to be as loud as he wants to be, without worrying about someone barging in.

You try to take his whole length in your mouth, making you gag. Tears quickly form in your eyes as you remove your mouth from his cock, and try again. He throws his head back, breathy moans escaping his lips at your every move. 

You take your mouth off his cock and begin to jerk him off. Your mouth goes to his balls and you begin to suck on them. Satoru got louder and louder by the second, his release approaching. 

Your mouth goes back to his cock while your hands begin to play with his balls. It doesn’t take too long for his cum to hit the back of your throat. Your mouth remains on his cock for a couple of seconds before pulling away. You make sure to swallow all the cum, sticking your tongue out for him to see and proudly admire.

“My good girl.” He praises you. He reaches behind to unhook your bra and slide it off you. Once it’s off, he desperately tries to take off your panties. It’s unexpected when he gets on the bed and lays down. You crawl to where he is, positioning yourself on top of him. You get ready to ride him, but it takes you by surprise when your fiancé says, “Sit on my face.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, though it’s not unusual from Satoru.

“Just come here and sit.” He responds. You do what he wants, but you are hesitant to fully sit down. He’s the one who pushes you down onto him. His tongue is quick to wander around your cunt.

His tongue begins to flick your clit over and over again, making low moans leave your lips. His arms go over your thighs, pushing you down further. You’d be worried about him breathing, if you weren’t too focused on how his tongue moves around your pussy.

“Toru!” You moan. Your moans serve as encouragement, and are a sweet reward for the man, moving his tongue faster. His tongue stops flicking your clit, and moves down to your hole. He teases you, threatening to enter but never really doing it. 

“Baby please.” You beg. His tongue finally enters your cunt. You shut your eyes, getting lost in the feeling. But out of the two of you, Satoru is enjoying it more. He finally takes his tongue out and goes back to your clit. 

He begins to suck on your clit, and you swear you see stars as your orgasm builds up. Your hips raise a bit, but he pushes you back down. You get louder and louder. “I’m gonna- fuck- gonna cum-”

You moan loudly as you reach your climax, his tongue still working wonders. A minute later he stops, and you get off him, sitting down on his torso. He raises himself a bit, not completely to sit up but enough to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you into a lewd kiss.

“Should we continue in the bath?” Satoru asks when he pulls away and you can’t nod your head more frantically. You get off the bed and practically run to the bath. Satoru gets in the bathtub first, and you follow behind.

“You’re so lucky.” You point out as your back presses against his chest. He’s never doubted it. He peppers your neck with kisses, while you align his cock with your entrance. You lower yourself on his cock.

“How about another baby?” Satoru asks, making you click your tongue while you begin to move.

“Leave me alone” You reply, and he wants to chuckle but he’s biting down his lip as he feels your pussy wrap around him. He loves your mouth but it can’t compare to this. 

He’s kissing your back, showing you how much he loves you in every possible way as you move up and down his cock. His hand moves down to play with your clit, making you shut your eyes. Every little touch is enough to make you insane lately and Satoru loves to touch you.

“You’re so perfect around me, baby.” Satoru whispers into your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. 

You’re softly moaning his name, your walls tightening around him. You’re so close to finishing. You’ve been so touch deprived lately since your schedules make spending time with each other impossible– Maybe now you’ll have more time to spend with each other.

“Fuck–” You curse as you finish on his cock. You hold to the edge of the bathtub as Satoru continues to move in and out of you. 

He’s not going to last long. It’s too hard for him to contain himself when he’s inside of you. He comes to a complete stop when he finally reaches his release, finishing inside of you. He remains buried inside of you as you pant to catch your breaths, but after a minute you lift yourself and take his cock out of you.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Satoru asks, hands caressing your arms as your head goes to his chest.

“Just sleep.” You answer as Satoru kisses the top of your head. He squeezes your hand before bringing it up to his lips to press a subtle kiss on it. “I need to get some rest.”

“Sleep sounds nice.” Satoru responds. You’re getting comfortable in the bathtub as your eyes begin to get heavy. You’re tired. Satoru notices and he splashes you, “Don’t fall asleep in the bathtub, love.”

“Just carry me to the bed.” You reply, making him roll his eyes playfully. He can, but if you don’t drag him out he’ll stay in the water and get all pruny. He’s warm by your side, too comfortable to leave. This is the reality he wanted ten years ago, and he finally has it. He’s not leaving this comfort no matter what gets in the way.

You’ll be the one to get up first and drag him out, that’s how it usually is in the morning. But you’re falling asleep. He doesn’t want to disturb you either. So he’ll just stay in the bathtub. 

“Don’t let me get all pruny, Satoru. Carry me out.” You warn him, and he hums in response. He’ll have to eventually because you’ll end up killing him if you wake up in ten hours, and you’re still in the bathroom.

“You know Ren is going to call later to say goodnight?” He points out, but you don’t care to talk about it. You’re sleepy. He kisses the top of your head when he’s met with silence. He mutters softly to not disturb your peace, 

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Isagi Yoichi being a nervous wreck for your guys first date.

He doesn't even know how he managed to get you to say yes to his shitty proposal. It all went wrong, but, as always, you made the wrong seem right and did the unthinkable: you agreed to going on a date with him.

This date needed to go perfectly. He can't mess this opportunity up. You were going to see how he's the perfect boyfriend for you, both gentle and funny, and accept his "proposal" when he asked the awaited question: "Do you want to be my girlfriend?".

I mean, c'mon, going on a date with a girl can't be that hard, right...? Well, for Isagi it sure was. Because it wasn't just a girl. It was you. And that thought alone made him feel like he might faint on the spot.

And so, the week preceding your date with him, Yoichi is planning everything meticulously. He needed every help he could get.

And who is better to help him than his friends?

7 days before the date.

"No, no!" Isagi screamed "She wouldn't act like that! You're not helping at all, Nagi."

"I wanna sleep." Seishiro said, removing the phone that he was holding in front of his face with your picture on it "Why does it have to be with me and in my room? Can't you practice in front of a mirror or something?"

"It doesn't feel the same!" Isagi huffed, running his hands through his hair "Just one more time. Remember, I helped you hide from Barou when he chased after you for wetting the bed with your hair, and you said you owned me one. Therefore, you're repaying me and can't run away from this."

"Okay then" Nagi snored, and put the phone with your photo in front of his face again

"Try to get her personality right this time" Isagi rolled his eyes and grabbed the paper with his speech. The moment he looked at your face, he blushed hard. Boy, he was so head over heels for you it was almost ridiculous. "Hey! How are you today? Hope you're doing fine!" Okay, great start. I didn't stutter. This is going to be perfect.

"Hello Yoichi-kun. I'm fine, thank you for asking. How about you." Nagi said monotonously while reading his own paper with the phrases he was supposed to say. It was actually kinda funny how he said this without any emotion.

"I was doing well, but I'm feeling e-even better now that you're here!" Yoichi said and shot Nagi finger guns while showing a strained smile. "So, where do you wanna sit--"

"Nagi! I bought you some lemon tea!!--"

"REO! KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING." Isagi said while his cheeks burned with a red so bright you could amost see smoke coming out his ears.

"Isagi. What the actual fuck--"

6 days before the date.

"I'm surprised you even decided to help me" Yoichi said while looking at a menu

"It's out of pity" Reo, who was sitting in front of him, said "You are helpless. But I'm gonna help you make her have the best date of her life" he smirked

Doing a signal with his hands, Reo called his driver, who parked the car right in front of their table.

"Okay. Now, get into the car."

"Uh... where are we going?? I thought you told me to meet you here so we could practice how I would act."

"And that's exactly what we're gonna do. Just get into the car, don't you trust me?"

'No I don't' Isagi thought, but he didn't say anything. He stepped into the car, obtaining a smirk from Reo, who also entered the vehicle.

"See, that wasn't that hard, was it?" His smirk widened, but soon disappeared when Mikage put on a serious face "Now, pretend I'm her. Here's the situation: we just got to the place of the date and we're about to leave the car. What do you do?"

"I... open the car door, get out and close it right after."

"Wrong. You open the car door, get out, hold it for her so she can also exit and then close it. Geez, this is going to be harder than I thought." Reo sighed "Now, let's practice. Do what I just told you"

Isagi nodded. He then opened the door, got out of the car and held it open so Reo could also exit.

Just when he thought it was all going well, a bee landed on his nose. Desperate to scare the insect, he started to shake his hands in front of his nose

"Shoo! Shoo!"

"OUCH!"

"Oh shit." The same hand he was using to scare the bee away was also the hand he was previously using to hold the car door. And his hand couldn't do 2 things at the same time. So, when he released the door, it strongly hit Reo's face.

"Shit. Reo, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, but it's not because of me" Reo made an angry face while rubbing his forehead "I'm sorry for your date. Let's try again. Do it properly this time."

With a sigh, Isagi entered the car again.

5 days before the date.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I need your help, Otoya." Yoichi said and swallowed hard, knowing that his next words would be a punch to his ego, but it needed to be done. "I'm a disaster! When I was training with Reo, I spilled coffe on him, the car door hit his face and I made him fall when I pulled the chair so he could sit on it. And I know you talk to a lot of girls, so you must know what to do."

"You came to the right place, dude." Otoya smirked and held open his shared dorm's door "Fear not, me and Tabito are going to help you get that girl."

Okay. When he said they'd "help him make you fall for him", he didn't imagine it meant watching Otoya flirting with Karasu wearing a wig for 10 minutes straight.

"Did you take notes?" Eita asked

"Yeah, I did" Isagi bashfully answered while holding up the little notebook he had in hand, which was full of notes about Otoya's advices on how to "step up his game".

"Okay, now it's your turn." The ninja said, seating down

"W-what? I didn't know I would also have to flirt with Karasu"

"It's for practice only! And you just have to pretend it's not me" Tabito answered, and then made a high pitched voice "I'm the girl you like!" He battered his eyelashes and put his hands together.

"S-sure..." Yoichi said, getting up "Okay so... uhm... how do I start?"

"Tell her a pick up line"

"Any?"

"Any."

"...do you play soccer? Cause you're a keeper." followed by finger guns.

The silence in the room was almost papable. Otoya and Karasu exchanged looks. Isagi was sweating. Karasu and Otoya locked gazes again. And then all of a sudden...

They began to laugh. Hard.

"Oh shit..." Karasu said, wiping away a tear from his eyes "This was so bad!"

"I know, right?" Otoya agreed "He did the finger guns and all that"

"W-what?! Was it that bad??"

"The worst I've ever seen. I wish i had recorded it"

"Nah, don't worry. I did, it's right here."

"KARASU, DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW."

4 day before the date

"Okay..." Chigiri said, analysing Isagi's hair "Based on the shape of your head, we could do a buzzcut. Ladies like it."

"You're sure you know how to cut people's hair right?" Isagi asked nervously

"Yeah I do. Just sit back, relax and let me do my thing"

With a sigh, Isagi sat down on a chair in his room, patting his pants with his hands

"It's just that this week has been absolute hell for me! I screw everything up everytime I try to practice for my date! The way things are going, she's going to hate it! I'm actually so scared right now you have no idea"

"I didn't remember telling you I could be your therapist" Chigiri smirked (what's with his friends always smirking at him??) "But if I coukd give my input in this, I'd say you just need to be yourself. Don't try to change. You're a nice guy, I'm sure she'll like the date"

"That... actually helped. Thank you Chigiri."

"You're welcome."

Wow. Things were going great for once. Nothing bad had happened! Maybe it meant that his luck was back, and the date was going to actually go as planeed!

"Uhm... Chigiri. There's hair in my nose"

"Just brush it off"

"I'm scared to move"

"Why? Just take it off"

"If I don't move, nothing can go wrong"

"Ugh, I'll take it off for you, you traumatized coward"

Yoichi discovered something today: his nose is very sensible. He just wishes he had discovered it in a different way.

*ATCHOO*

"Fuck."

"What? Is it over?"

"I'm done here. I did my work." Chigiri said in a hurry, packing his things quickly and then leaving. But before he stepped out the door, he shouted "I'd suggest you look at the mirror" he then smiled worriedly and shut the door

"Look in the mirror? What does he even mean...?"

When Isagi saw the hole in his hair, he let out a scream the whole neighbourhood heard.

The third day before the date was spent solving the hair issue

2 days before the date

"I don't have clothes."

"What do you mean you don't have clothes? What about all of these T-shirts on the floor?"

"None of them are good enough!" Isagi shouted

"I think you're too worried about this date" Hiori commented "Everything will go just fine, don't worry"

"Yeah! You just have to act as yourself!" Bachira added "If she accepted to go out with you, it means she already likes you, even if just a little!"

"I don't know, I think I might just cancel it. I think I'm too plain and boring for her?? I don't really know it anymore, man."

"There's NO WAY you're going to cancel it" Hiori said. With a jump, he got up from Isagi's bed, held his shoulders ans shook them while he spoke to him "Listen here tou little shit: I will NOT tolerate your endless rambling about her anymore. You finally got a date with her and want to throw it all away because of some senseless insecurity?? She accepted because she already likes you, Isagi. You don't need a whole new personality, new looks or anything. Just go as yourself. I can't take you talking about how you wish you were her boyfriend and all the things you want to do with her. Just grow a pair of balls and go to that date, goddamit!"

A gentle silence settled on the room

"He's right, you know?" Bachira broke the silence, unusually serious "You don't need to be Otoya, Reo or Karasu to make her like you. Just do what you'd normally do. I'm sure she'll like it"

"I think you guys are right" Isagi said, smiling "I'll just be myself!" He looked at the air and clenched his fist, doing a celebration and determined pose.

"Yeah!" Bachira hyped him up "That's the spirit! "

"Just drop the finger guns please" Hiori joked

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY FINGER GUNS??"

The day of the date.

He wasn't as nervous anymore. The talk with Hiori and Bachira really did help him, after all. He was actually determined.

You both were going to enjoy the date. He would make sure of it.

"Wow. You look beautiful" Isagi said, looking you up and down when he saw you at the restaurant. Turns out Reo's lesson was useless, since you both didn't share a car together.

"Thank you!" You said, giggling "You also look very handsome if I do say so myself!"

Isagi reached for the hand that was behind his back and pulled out a red rose

"For me?" You smiled, grabbed the rose and sniffled it. And oh, how he wished you'd smile only at him for the rest of his and your life. It made him feel even better knowing that he was the one who made you smile so brightly

He gently grabbed the flower from your hands and put it in your hair, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear in the process, careful to not let the thorns prickle you. He then smiled and grabbed your hands, looking you straight in the eye

"It reminded me of you, since you're both pretty"

Old habits die hard, they say. And so, even though everyone told him not to do it, he did it. The finger guns.

"I-it was cringy, wasn't it?" He said, nervous, when he saw you laughing at his (pathetic) attempt at flirting

"No it wasn't. I think it's kinda cute, actually" you linked both your arms together and smiled at him again (damn woman, did you want to kill him?) "Now let's go have the best date ever!"

You were perfect. And so, when you both entered the restaurant, there was only three things on Isagi's head, and he would make sure that all of them were going to happen.

Be yourself.

Enjoy.

Make her smile.

And so, you both went inside the restaurant, ready for fun and not knowing you'd get out with a new title that you would both proudly wear: "boyfriend and girlfriend".

~ A/N: Not proofread!! Also, I actually hate this sm omg

[signanothername]

Do you think that your take on nightmare could become a better person without becoming at least fully uncorrupted?

I like your take on uncorrupted nm but I was curious to ask because there’s not really much of Nightmare becoming a better person *whilst* still being corrupted?

Asking the real questions here >:)

Before I start this ramble however, I think it’s important to keep in mind that even while uncorrupted, Nightmare’s still a bitch, cause as I mentioned before, Nightmare wouldn’t suddenly get back to becoming a kind angel with a big heart, and it’s also important to keep in mind that if uncorrupted Nightmare got back to being powerful (even without the corruption in the mix) he’s extremely prone to (and would probably) get back to his old ways

Cause while the corruption has a great impact on Nightmare’s behavior and how he deals with his emotions, the corruption is less of the root cause and more of a participant in Nightmare’s awful behavior

The root cause of Nightmare’s awful behavior is extreme fear born out of trauma

The corruption already did its job a long time ago and shaped Nightmare as a person, it’s still Nightmare himself that’s in full control of his actions, he could at any point in time, make the right or wrong decision

With that in mind, could Nightmare be a better person whilst corrupted?

I’d say it’s kinda complicated, it’s both yes and no at the same time

Could he become a better person whilst corrupted?

Yes

Would he overall become a better person with better behavior? And with everyone?

No, unless there’s an actual driving force to motivate Nightmare to be a better person somewhat (which is absolutely possible ;) ), Nightmare would continue to be a bitch

Could he still get better at treating specific people that he deems worth his time? And only deems worth his time after specific interactions that made him believe so?

Yes

Corrupted or not, Nightmare isn’t incapable of becoming a better person, however there needs to be a reason for Nightmare to be so

Nightmare is a very “treat people how they treat you” kinda person, and while Nightmare is extremely toxic, abusive, and cruel, he’s also someone who stays true to his word and would treat who treats him with kindness the same, and Nightmare doesn’t easily believe in genuine kindness without a goal behind it, and so he’d insist on giving something back instead of accepting kindness for what it is

So if someone shows him genuine kindness, he’d also show genuine kindness (in his own twisted way) in “this is me paying my debt back” way, like, he’d “pay it back” by keeping the AU of the person who showed him kindness under his protection for a period of time, or let go of a debt they owe him, etc

I’ve mentioned before that Nightmare is capable of kindness, and I don’t mean in “paying someone’s kindness back” kinda way, but he can actually be kind in an active way where he thinks of doing something kind to someone else without it being a payback of sorts, and so Nightmare can still make a good decision and actually show it without any strings attached, and the truth is he does show it, very rarely, but he does (in the “a little life update” comic, Killer mentions how Nightmare managed to do one “good thing” at least ;) )

Nightmare just has a mindset that’s like “nobody was ever kind to me when i was the one who’s helpless/ defenseless, so why should I ever show anyone kindness now that I’m in power?” It’s an irrational mindset, but the thing is, no one can debate him on it considering it’s something he keeps to himself

For the outside world, Nightmare does what he does cause he’s a bitch and that’s it, not taking into consideration the fact he acts the way he does as a result of a harmful mindset he developed due to a life changing traumatic experience (obviously cause they don’t know)

And while his kindness is still pretty much apart of him, whenever he has certain thoughts of doing something good/ kind for someone, he just immediately stomps on it and tells himself that he’s being “irrational”, and yes, Nightmare thinks that being kind in a cruel world is “irrational”, he’s the opposite to Dream, who thinks that being kind in a cruel world is what true strength is

And y’know I kinda always talk about how much of a bitch Nightmare can be, but I never talk about the fact that, despite how bitchy he is, Nightmare can actually be sensible

In the right circumstances at the right times, Nightmare can actually be talked to without him being an absolute bitch

And that goes for almost everyone, MTT included

like Killer, Murder and Horror can actually talk to him without Nightmare immediately taking it as a chance to abuse them

But Nightmare is the kinda person that you need to tiptoe around sometimes, cause he has insane mood swings, so MTT have to check whether he’s in a good mood or a bad mood and based on that decide whether it’s a good idea to approach and talk to him or leave him alone and sometimes even go as far as make themselves as small and as unseen as possible as to not catch his attention

Building a good rapport with Nightmare is.. complicated, but possible

But the thing is, even if Nightmare became a better person, it’s better to keep your expectations a bit low, cause even if Nightmare took genuine steps towards becoming a better person i think his capacity for that is limited, like don’t expect him to become like Dream where he’d jump to saving someone in need, but he’d cut back on his abusive and toxic behavior

Basically, Nightmare would become a better person but in a passive rather than an active way where he’d stop hurting people himself, but would let other people do the hurting for him (and i mean in a natural way with how positivity and negativity works and not send someone to hurt another)

For example, let’s say the twins see an innocent someone get beaten in front of them, Dream would immediately jump in to save them, Nightmare wouldn’t, he’d watch with sadistic glee and it would even get a chuckle or two outta him as the poor soul is getting beaten all while he feeds on their misery and once he’d fed himself he’ll just leave (and that’s regardless whether he’s corrupted or not)

It’s cause Nightmare also has the mindset of “the strong devours the weak”, it’s the natural order of things to him, it’s not his fault that the world around him settles for the minimum is it? That’s why he’s obsessed with power and would do anything to obtain it, if Nightmare can ensure that he keeps that power by torturing innocent people then he’ll do it, all cause he’s paralyzed by the terror of the mere thought of becoming weak again

To Nightmare, weakness means a death sentence, and we all know how irrationally afraid Nightmare is of death

Despite his power, knowledge, and 500 year long experiences, Nightmare was and will always be a fearful child who claws at the world around him first so it wouldn’t have the courage to claw back at him (completely dismissing the fact that the world would claw back regardless >:) )

For Nightmare to become a better person he needs to face his greatest enemy, and that enemy was always his own self

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Three.

Johnny didn't want someone who asked questions - to him, anyways. That didn't mean you wouldn't try to get your own answers

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Johnny (he insisted you call him that after you very reluctantly agreed to his deal, stating that "John" was too formal) didn’t need someone who asked questions. Asking questions meant thinking and thinking meant trouble. He didn’t need someone asking anything about the man framed in the only picture he had, nor did he need to be questioned on why there was an uncanny frakensteined monster that bore that very person's resemblance living in an abandoned military facility. 

Of course, you’d still think of those questions. Anyone with a single braincell and any scrap of common sense would. You’d think about them until your brain melted and oozed out your ears as they ceaselessly tore at your mind, lingering on the edges of every other thought you had.

Asking him at this point though wouldn't get you anywhere, aside from maybe in a hospital bed. Pushing the already probably mentally unstable man further when he clearly had a whole storm brewing behind those distant blue eyes was a flat out stupid idea. When someone carried such a beastly burden day in and out, adding even a feather to the weight they carried could cause them to snap. If you wanted answers, you’d have to play it smart and ride the sands of time until the tempest faded into a mild breeze, taking the pressure that ceaselessly weighed him down with it.

Besides, you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and do anything to cost you your newfound side job that rolled into your lap when you needed it most. You needed it and the money almost as much as Johnny needed you.

Aside from a wonderful therapist, what Johnny needed was someone to run some errands for him.  The way he phrased it could’ve made it seem almost normal. Almost. He just needed you to sometimes pick things up and drop things off for him - things he said he didn't have time to do.

Before you could even begin to regret agreeing or start gathering the courage to start verbalizing anything, another $100 was shoved in your awaiting hands the second he summoned you to his house once more not even two days later, effectively tying your tongue in a knot and forcing you to swallow anything that threatened to rise up back into the pit of your stomach where it belonged.

"You're certainly a wonderful sight for sore eyes" Johnny said as he held the door open for you, the lopsided grin that stretched slightly too far for comfort donning his face.

Underneath your fingertips, the crinkle of the crisp bill he'd shoved in your hands offered an ounce of comfort and familiarity as you stepped into the haphazard blend of the contrasting house. Once again, the overpowering stench of bleach reached your nose, causing it to wrinkle as your eyes watered. The soapy, pungent basic scent of unnaturally clean stood as far too much, like he had just scrubbed every single nearby surface with it twice.

Holding your breath just enough to make it through the hallway without burning your lungs, the shaky exhale that escaped you when you reached the kitchen was anything but certain, unlike the man who lead the way with a spring in his step.

"How 'bout a cuppa?" He offered as he gestured for you to sit in one of the uncomfortable, cheap, ugly modern chairs that lined the matching too sleek table.

Though the thought of something to drink was a nice gesture and tempted your slightly parched throat, it wasn't one you could accept. Drinking something from his house, even if he made it in front of you, had you on hesitate as uncertainty made itself known in the way your stomach twisted. Sure, it might give you something to sip on and take away from your nerves - but you didn't know what he'd consider normal or what he could put in it.

"Thanks, but no thank you. I'm good." You declined, your brows knitting together the smallest bit as your hands locked together, a closed-lipped smile donned your features as a polite peace offering.

Johnny simply tipped his head and shrugged in a 'suit yourself' gesture as he turned his back to you and took ahold of the kettle. "Maybe one day you'll come 'round to it. The Brits are wrong on many things but tea isn't one of them." He noted while he filled the blue metal device to the brim before setting it unceremoniously on the stove.

Humming in a truly neutral agreement that could be taken either way, you chose not to say anything in addition. A steady, rhythmic clicking broke through the silence before the gentle whoosh of the flames igniting quieted the air once more.

Johnny busied himself around the countertop and the island, whistling an off-tune song you couldn't quite recognize. While you weren't sure what song it was, there was no denying that his tone was off. Whether that was on purpose or not, you had no idea, but it made your skin crawl. A grimace crossed your features when the continual bad intonation didn't get any better. Why couldn't he have at least picked something to be on pitch with?

Thankfully the half-cringe that passed upon your face went unnoticed as he began searching through the orange toned cabinets and drawers at his own leisurely pace.

Naturally, your eyes were drawn to the man as he worked in his element. Your own natural curiosity tugged on the little part of your brain that egged you on to watch and try to figure out what he was doing. The weight of the world might have rested on his shoulders, judging by the slight tension he always held in his muscles and the lines carved deep into his face after many sleepless nights, but he didn't show it elsewhere.

He moved about as if the burden he carried were nothing more than a backpack, an annoyance that could eventually be shed. If you were able to look at his face closer, you're sure the shadows of dark bags would line underneath his eyes, darkening his features as if trying to externally express the gloom he felt.

To see that meant you'd have to look him in the eyes, though. You're not sure you were ready to meet the intensity of his head-on gaze again, or have to explain why you were staring. Blinking out of your stupor, you snapped your gaze to the tiled floor, trying to find something else to draw your attention.

The too stark, too barren kitchen loomed around you at all angles and provided no relief or point of interest. Looking anywhere else did little to help your nerves and thoughts alike when the clashing gaudiness of the wallpaper and the modern furniture greeted you no matter where you turned your eyes.

No matter what, you most certainly didn't want to look at the one picture on the wall - the one that reminded you of the thing you'd seen.

Though the man in the picture wasn't nearly as monstrous and had all the correct, human proportions (in the right number too, mind you), taking a single glance made your stomach churn. Sheer, primal dread and horror weren't an easy feeling to shake, especially when you caught glimpses of it every time you so much as turned your head to the side.

When he finally started talking again, a silent breath of relief escaped you as you relaxed marginally, thanking all heavens above he gave focus on other than the solitary portrait that hung on the empty wall.

"You don't know how... how happy I am."

Metallic clattering rang out as he shut yet another drawer before the one beside it was squeaked open from the rattling force. Though he spoke aloud, you weren't sure if he was more talking to himself or to you.

You didn't dare to breathe a word when he seemed to have paused for a moment, muttering something under his breath before he shut that drawer too and opened a cabinet below. "... to finally have someone to help me." He added as an afterthought as he popped back up, a small, rusted metal box in his hand.

Clunking against the counter as he gingerly placed it down, the rusty hinges squeaked in protest as he popped the lid, inspecting the mysterious contents with scrutinizing, unblinking eyes before he nodded to himself, clamping the lid shut once more before you had a chance to see what was in it.

"Things have been..." He trailed off with a small, dismissive circle of his hand as he turned his back to you again, upper cabinets flying open as he dug through the few items precariously perched in there once more.

He didn't continue his sentence, shaking his head to himself, the words he refused to speak evaporating into thin air. The grip you had on your own hands tightened as you bit your tongue - you weren't going to pry. No questions, you reminded yourself, as your mind filled in the blanks with many words that it raced to think of to finish his sentence for him.

Difficult? Terrible? Agonizing? Stressful? You're sure you could place them all on a Bingo card and score instantly.

No matter how much you wanted to ask, wanted to figure out what was going on, you weren't going to ask. You couldn't. The fragile balance that hung in the silence of the air depended on it.

Johnny seemed to like talking to himself anyhow, even if it was filled with beats and pauses and half finished sentences to match. It's like he either expected interjection or didn't know how to talk after having spent so much time alone.

"Ever since the exp- accident," He corrected himself in such a rush you didn't catch what he almost said, "Haven't been able to do nearly all of what I wanted."

Johnny didn't give you a chance to think about it as he huffed, his shoulders sagging, “Cannot drive anymore.” He spoke in a rougher grit, nodding to his missing left arm.

Frustration wrote itself all over his face in the unmistakable narrowing of his eyes and the tension held in his shoulders increasing tenfold as a scowl crossed his features. But like everything else with him, it hardly lasted a few noticeable seconds before the grin that was all too theatric made its appearance once more. “Unless you want to see the gas station version of Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift, I wouldn't let me get behind a wheel.” 

His warm, mirth filled chuckle and toothy smile could almost be mistaken as genuine if he weren't staring right through you with a certainty that made your hackles raise. "That's where you come in. Real life saver, you are." He noted as he finally found what he was searching for, depositing it in a drawstring bag alongside the metal container.

Just in time, the kettle whistled a shrill pitchy noise. Steam billowed out of the small opening. Like a dog drawn to the beck and call of its owner, he trotted right on over to it, pouring it into a metal thermos he already had set aside in his impromptu kitchen rearranging spree.

Screwing the top on, he settled it in the bag before drawing it tight. Fabric cinched underneath the motion and, testing it to be sure nothing would spill, he finally picked it up and promptly deposited it on your lap.

"Well, best be off with it then." He said as he clapped a hand on your shoulders, guiding you to your feet. You swallowed, already knowing where he was going to ask you to go. "If you're fast enough, the water will still be warm when you get back if you change your mind on having a proper cuppa."

Going there in the evening light proved to be significantly less unnerving than visiting in the pitch blackness of the night. Considering you at least could see a hair better and knew what to expect as far as the layout go, it eased your nerves but the constant unsettled feeling remained on your shoulders as an unseen weight all the same.

On one hand, you now knew what was lurking in the dark. On the other hand, you now knew what was lurking. With six arms, three heads, and enough eyes to see into the past, present, and future at the same time, jumping to meet it again wasn't on the top of your to-do list.

Unlike the first time, though, it was a quick in and out. That was the mantra you repeated to yourself as you exited your car, crawling back in the small opening in the rusted, chain link fence. In and out. You'd be done before you knew it.

The steady thump of your heart against your ribs echoed far louder than any noise in the run-down facility as you trekked through the halls with careful steps. Every so often, you'd freeze and listen, looking for any clues of the thing - the very thing you were here to deliver a bag to.

You don't know why exactly Johnny wanted you to do this so bad or what he included in the very item you carried close to your chest. If he was trying to feed you to the monster, he was doing a piss poor job at it. And if it were something elicit, then why on earth would it involve a thermos of hot water?

Those questions were shoved to the back of your mind as you heard a small clink down one of the halls - a noise that sounded like metal on metal.

Goosebumps prickled your arms as your body froze. Placing the bag down next to the wall on a drop spot you, for once, listened to your heart and bolted.

You didn't wait around to see if the thing was lurking around the corners, watching your every move. You didn't want to see if it felt friendly today. In and out. You're just here to do your job - not here to be eaten.

True to his word, the water was still warm by the time you returned to collect your payment. Not that you were going to have any of the tea he offered, but it meant the job was done and you now had enough money to soothe your erratically beating heart as you justified your (probable) bad decisions.

Johnny was all smiles as he thanked you earnestly, ignorant to your internal plight. His earnest words that paired with his glee of, "Have an evening as lovely as yourself," lingered on in the air, going unanswered as you took your money and hurried off back to your dwelling.

Not wanting to deal with any more questions or thoughts regarding it or anything around it for the night, the TV went on the moment you got home. White noise filled the space as its distant chatter reverberated, the familiar flashing lights of the flickering screen soothing you as it wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Scarfing down your dinner, you settled on the couch for the night, letting the noise of the television lull you to sleep instead of your own mind.

Sleep held you as long as it could in its embrace as you dozed away, but it could only do so much to keep you down when an all too loud text pinged on your phone. Cursing yourself for not having put it on Do Not Disturb, you blearily blinked at the illuminated screen.

Blocky letters shone 5:15 am on the lock screen, yet another groan escaping you. It's too early for this. Setting it down for another moment as you squinted, you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm as you slowly came to your senses.

Focusing on the name would be fruitless when you already mentally calculated who would have the audacity and the lack of common sense to text you this early.

"Morning bonnie :), up for another task?"

No wonder he seemed so exhausted all the time, you mentally groused as you reluctantly went through your morning routine at none too fast of a pace. Anyone who woke up at the ass crack of dawn had the right to be. There's plenty of other things weighing him down but right now, all you could think of was how it was too damn early for this.

Even though it was too early, far too early for your taste to be doing anything, Johnny was all smiles as you pulled up, as if he'd already been up for hours and was almost happy about it.

This time, he wasn't fumbling through anything or assembling things together. Sitting on the old, creaky rocking chair on the porch, he already had a bag beside him. The worn canvas rucksack was considerably larger than the drawstring he'd had you take the day prior.

"Good morning." He greeted from the small landing as you sauntered out of your car, the usually present smile that put the pink lights of dawn to shame held itself upon his fine features once more. "Know I already said morning, but wasn't good til I saw you."

The warm, blush colors of the sunrise matched your cheeks perfectly as the familiar heat of a flush rose upon you in a matching warmth of the early morning's rays. It's too early for this....

Handing the bag off to you, his eyes followed your every movement once more as you took it from him into your grasp. "Same place as last time." He instructed without another word more.

The thermos settled on the side of the bag radiated warmth as it settled against your skin as you balanced the luggage out in your arms. How you wished you could feel the same warmth all over as you lay buried in your bed, dozing underneath your fluffy blankets as you should've been at this time.

Nodding, you offered a strained smile, ignoring how his fingers drummed in rapid succession on the armrest of the chair. "Got it." Was all you said before you turned on your heels before you could second guess what you were doing.

The third time through the building proved to somehow be even easier. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or irritation that ebbed away the nerves that normally had you hesitating, but you carried on through the same path you'd trekked twice prior.

Exactly as Soap instructed, you went to set the bag down right where you had prior. Except when you got there, you froze.

There on the ground lay the same thermos you saw him fill and the deflated, compacted form of the drawstring bag. Folded with precision, the bag lay pinned by the thermos, as if it had been placed with delicate intent in mind.

Swallowing back the sudden dryness of your mouth, the small steps you took towards it now took longer than ever before. As if it may burn you, your hands shook as you held your breath when you reached out to grasp them. The light weight of the metal bottle shouldn't have caught you off guard, but it did. Whatever did this - no, whoever, clearly had great control of themselves.

It couldn't have been that thing, right? That was a monster, a beast. Maybe it was someone else - someone else here who he was helping.

You didn't want to think about it too hard or the implications of it. Taking a deep breath, you choked down your nerves and snatched up the bag and empty bottle before depositing the rucksack.

Looking back wasn't even a thought that crossed your mind as you hightailed it out of there, your mind racing faster than your feet.

By the time you returned to Johnny's house and rang the bell, he'd already taken a shower. The fresh scent of his cologne clung to his skin as he opened the door, the overgrown shag of his mohawk curled on the very fringes with dampness.

"Back so soon?" He asked, arching an inquisitive brow, his attention focused on the lines of your face the second you appeared.

Though you tried to hide the small tremors and the paleness of your features as your mind and heart raced despite the contrast of your feet rooted in place.

"Christ alive, everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." He asked as he tilted his head.

Alright? Alright?? How could it be alright when now for sure you knew that something, something possibly intelligent, was there. The thing you've brought something too held life, conscious thought, and yet weathered away every day in that building.

Seeing the bag folded so neatly opened a pandora's box of questions that you don't think you could ignore for any longer, but you weren't going to spill that to him.

Hurrying out a nod, you forced a smile and cleared your throat, trying to get yourself to appear normal. "Y-yeah! Fine, I'm fine. Just uh... a bit tired! Not used to being up this early." You said, trying your damndest to play it off with an awkward chuckle.

Pleasebelieveitpleasebelieveitplease-

His eyes studied you, a frown pursing his lips as he once again searched right though your soul with those intense, blue eyes. For those few, tense moments, you swore he dug right into your mind, trying to find reasons to call you a liar as he sunk his claws in and tore.

Yet his gaze softened as he scratched the back of his neck, the smile turning sheepish. "Sorry - forgot not everyone is used to waking up before the sun. Old habits die hard." As if trying to make up for his 'mistake', he didn't wait a second as he fished out the $200 from his pocket - no envelope this time.

The bills made their way into your pocket as you snatched them up. "Thanks." You rushed out as you took a step back. Johnny arched a single brow as he just kept staring, as if expecting something.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his acute gaze as he simply kept staring the same, scrutinizing look pinning you down from afar. Averting your eyes, your offered a half-there nod as you took another step back, "Anyways I uh, have a long day ahead."

Your mind wasn't really in putting together neat sentences as it kept circling back to seeing the bag and thermos set so nicely, so purposefully, as if awaiting someone to return to them.

Shit, right. The things. Shaking your head, you stiffened at your realization. "O-oh! Right, almost forgot." Pulling your own utilitarian bag off of your back, the sound of a zipper broke the hush of the early morning air. Revealing the still-folded bag and his bottle, you held it out for him to take.

Surprised wasn't the exact word you'd say described Johnny. Though his brows arched and his grin faltered for a split second into something much bigger, he held his position. The slight shake in his fingers as he plucked the items from your hands was palpable as was the breath he held as he turned them over, the pads of his fingers tracing them as his attention dragged downwards into the paltry weight of the objects themselves.

For a few reverent moments, his whole attention focused right on those items his gaze piercing through it. While you were thankful that attention was no longer on you, it didn't help the unease that always seemed to follow, remaining slung around your shoulders like an old, uncomfortable pal who made their appearance at the worst times. When you shifted from foot to foot, his eyes snapped right back up as he blinked out of his entranced daze.

"Right, I won't hold you any longer. Thank you again." He said, as he steadied himself with a deep breath, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't have a chance to protest before he closed the door, leaving you standing right there on the now empty front porch.

Turns out, Johnny preferably needed you to go every day of the week to that place. You weren't sure how to feel after discovering the fact that the thing was probably intelligent and was indeed capable of such delicate tasks - but the money talked far louder than your hesitancy. It's a wonder he didn't run out of cash but hey, you weren't complaining. Sure, it wasn't ideal to go there and to keep questioning your sanity, but money talked. And what it was saying was "Keep doing what you're doing".

Though unease lingered in every one of your hairs that stood on end and the goosebumps that prickled your flesh every time you visited, it became significantly easier as you fell into a routine. Nothing would stop the way you always found yourself glancing down the dark hallways with wary shifts to the balls of your feet, ready to bolt at a moments notice, but you no longer had to look over your shoulder or halt in your movements every time you heard a small noise.

Johnny would either have you come by early morning or late evening, and would hand off a bag. Sometimes you'd talk to him a bit or more accurately, he'd talk and you'd listen as he packed the bag. You'd then take it, go right back into the abandoned fort, and trade it out with the bag always placed with such neat intent and now-empty thermos.

Now, anyone sane would've suspected something extremely suspicious, if not illegal. After all, who would pay vast amounts of money to drop off a full bag and pick the empty up if it weren't dealing with illegal substances?

Johnny. That's who.

Much to your surprise, everything was normal in every bag you brought - it always was. He'd pack them in front of you or if they were ready to go, they held the same, ordinary objects. Not to mention, you'd always double checked them just to be sure you weren't playing an unwitting part in some smuggling operation. You didn't always make the best decisions but you weren't stupid. Yet they were never abnormal.

No matter what, there'd always be a thermos of hot water and a sealed, labelless letter. Otherwise, it was a mixed bag, quite literally. Sometimes he'd thrown in a fleece or woolen blanket, other times some personal hygiene items, or board games or decks of cards, or even photographs and books. It didn't take long for you to realize that they were care packages meant for what- no, whoever was in there.

You weren't dealing with an it or a what or a that or a thing, it was a who. Someone who he clearly cared about and someone who you sincerely suspected was the man in the portrait or had been at some point in time.

The more days that you found yourself delivering yet another package, the more curious you found yourself - and the less fearful. After all, this was clearly a being who clung to some part of their humanity - someone capable of considerate actions and thoughts alike.

Frankly, it he never went after you in the first place. You'd realized that as you spent yet another night pondering in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. By all means, he could have attacked and killed you. He could have done that the moment it saw you for the first time and taken you by surprise in the Tartarean void that he called his home amidst the decaying walls.

He could've chased after you and snapped your neck before you had a chance to run for it. Hell, he could easily ambush you as you dropped off the daily supplies. And he could probably do it all without flinching or missing a single beat, as if he were completing a task as simple as fetching the morning paper.

But he didn't. He never even came closer. You hadn't seen him since the first night. Instead, the only trace you ever saw that he was by was the neatly placed bags and the empty thermos, always properly set up.

No monster would do that. No true monster would have those manners or such a capability, unless it was playing the long haul to gain your trust before it feasted. But that would've been long, long ago.

You didn't know what to make of it. And you knew Johnny would be no help, as many thoughts as he had. Not once had he ever brought the beast up - nor did you. Talk around him was something you both danced around, never quite getting to it.

That didn't stop you from doing your job as kept on delivering all the same. You knew better than to ask who this being was to him beyond someone he'd very likely known - and known well. He wouldn't be ready to admit that. No matter how many times you caught him staring at the sole portrait that hung on the kitchen wall or smoothing his thumb over the silver cross that dangled around his neck, he never dare breathed a name.

Asking Johnny wouldn't help, so you figured you might as well bypass the middle man. Living in the dark was something you couldn't do anymore - and you're sure he (the temporarily nameless being that he was) would like to finally have some light shone on him for once. It was time to talk to the creature you'd tried to desperately avoid in the first place.

Finding him was out of the question. You most certainly weren't going to walk through the dingy, damp halls once more to throw yourself at him. You doubted he would want that either. Considering he hadn't been around, he likely valued some semblance of privacy.

He could read - you figured he could read. After all, Johnny had sent him many letters. If they remained unopened, you didn't know, but it didn't stop Johnny from writing them all the same. Before you could get ahead of yourself, though, you decided to try a simple trick.

Clinging to a whiteboard with one hand, bag in the other, you crawled through the dark halls you'd come to know like the back of your hand. You didn't need the headlamp anymore but it certainly helped when your eyes hadn't adjusted.

Setting the bag down in the usual drop-zone, you balanced the whiteboard on your thighs and uncapped an expo marker. The squeak of the black pen filled the air as you inhaled a slow breath, trying to calm the anxious, anticipatory beating of your heart.

"Hi! :) I'm -" You hesitated. Writing your name was a bad idea, especially when it was a place you weren't supposed to be. The last thing you needed was for anyone else to find it and track you down, as unlikely as that may be.

Settling on "A friend of your friend." You continued to write, " The one who has been bringing the bags. What's your name?"

Setting the board down and capping the marker once more, placing it just below, you took a step back. You didn't know for sure if he could write or read, but it was worth a shot and was better than nothing. The question wasn't revolutionary but if answered, you'd finally have an inkling of who you were dealing with and more importantly, a proper name to call him.

As you headed back to the exit once more, you glanced back for the first time. For some reason feeling a pang of disappointment you saw nothing lying in wait in the shadows and heard nothing to match. Shaking your head, you dismissed the ridiculous thought as you scampered off, taking the empty bag and thermos that had been left to hold up your usual part of the routine.

You'd never been particularly excited to go back, really just following through for the money (and maybe a scrap of pity for Johnny), but today your legs couldn't carry you fast enough through the halls as you came back. Pitter pattering in your chest, your heart hammered away on your ribs as the familiar burn of exertion tugged at your muscles but you refused to let it slow you down. If anything, it only fueled the burning desire to get there fast.

The moment the whiteboard entered your line of sight, you somehow picked up speed further before leaning into a sliding stop in front of it. A thump echoed as the bag fell from your hands, your breath catching as you stared at the sight that awaited you. Your eyes widened at the smudged ink and the one, half-shaky word scrawled underneath. A name.

Simon.

Rolling the name over and over in your mind until you surely wouldn't be able to ever forget it, you snapped a picture of the whiteboard so you'd have a piece of it forever. To finally know the name of the being you had delivered countless things to marked a huge step forwards. There were many, many things you wanted to ask but for now you knew one, very important thing.

His name was Simon.

You itched to write more, to ask him fifty million questions now that you knew he was human enough to answer, but you couldn't get ahead of yourself. Your hands trembled as you uncapped the marker, tracing each letter of his name with your finger as you erased it, the feel of the letters forever etching into your soul.

"Its nice to meet you Simon." You kept it simple to start as you pursed your lips, racking your brain for the proper route to go here.

How long had he been here? Did he know what day it was? Who was he to Johnny? Why was he here? How did he get like that? What does he eat? How does he eat? Why doesn't he -

No.

You weren't going to do that. No matter how much there was to learn, you couldn't force your thirst for knowledge onto him or overwhelm him with questions. Trust for those answers had to be earned, not given, if he was anything like most.

Considering that he likely hadn't had direct human contact and interaction in how long, being compassionate would do you well. Maybe you could earn his trust more by helping him out further and listening, even if you had yet to physically say a single word to one another.

"I'm sorry for running from you. I didn't expect anyone to be there." You continued, figuring an apology of any kind was overdue but a late one was better than none, "Is there anything I can get or bring for you to make you more comfortable?"

The apology wasn't the best or hell, even that great. Limited space on the small whiteboard, however, was quite a curse. And if he had any bit of humanity - the kind you had, he'd understand very well why you ran. Anyone would in your shoes. It wasn't anything personal but now knowing he had conscious thoughts, guilt gnawed at you.

Likely, you still would've run anyways, but when facing with the unknown and something as threatening appearing as him, it's better safe than sorry. He'd understand, right? You were just a human in the end. A human who had very human reactions in the face of danger.

Once more, you set the marker down and read over your words, double checking to make sure your spelling still held up and the words were big enough to discern. They weren't perfect, eloquent, or fantastic but they were a starting point and they were yours. That was good enough for now. Resisting the urge to linger in the hall, you capped the pen and made your way out of the building once more, following the same path you'd always taken, already yearning to turn back.

Thankfully, the night passed in the blink of an eye and lady luck decided to roll the ball in your court the next day as Johnny picked an early time. Your heart raced at the same rate as your body as you sprinted through the halls, all caution thrown to the wind that whipped over your head with the motions. Reminding yourself to at least set the bag down instead of throwing it, you glanced at the board, your eyes widening.

Scrawled in a much neater, larger handwriting that took up the board, your breath halted in your chest. The beating of your heart faded into a background hum as your blood ran cold, a pit growing and sinking in your stomach so fast its as if you swallowed lead.

There wasn't an item or thing requested. Underneath, just like the day before, there was a name. But it was a different one, one you had at the top of your contact lists.

Johnny.

જ⁀➴

His many clouded eyes had stared at the simple, innocent question written on the white board. They stared and stared, until even in his constantly unfeeling state, they ached with soreness around the edges.

Anything.

Such a word was the most dangerous thing you could've offered to a desperate man who had long since drowned in the rivers of despair. To you, it was probably nothing more than a simple considerate thought. To him, it was a lifeline being thrown out in a tsunami, offering a thin rope to pull him out of the impossibly huge wave that kept him down. Attempting to grab it and crawl out may be fruitless but without any options left, the slimmest chance of improbable survival was always better than none at all.

So he took the rope you threw him and clung until his nails dug in and all six of his hands were burned and his skin chaffed. He held it close, grappling it with every ounce of strength he had left, tying it in knots to cling on further to the chance that was being offered - to have the anything, the only thing, he needed more than the second chance at life he had been granted.

He knew deep down that it might be an impossible request to pull him out, to get him what he needed beyond anything else in this world, to fulfill the visceral yearning that scorched his soul and burnt him with red hot pokers every day in an otherwise numb existence.

But when he had nothing left, nothing at all aside from his miserable existence in this liminal purgatory, playing the only Hail Mary he clung onto now that he was given a chance was his own way of accepting the line which you threw him and pulling back as he desperately tried to grapple out.

After all, a dead man had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

His everything that now stood just on the horizon, so close he could almost see those beautiful blue eyes again and trace over the silver of a scar that split his brows once more.

[luna-azzurra]

Do you have any tips for writing a character who hates their appearance? Like say this character has the ability to look like a normal human but their non-human form is quote on quote "ugly/hideous" (The creature's related to the character have the same issue/The self-hatred is taught by the elders and/or parents from the society the creature belongs to.)

"Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show" kind of thing. And the parents/elders aren't mean about it, they just know their real appearance isn't appealing.

Human appearance = Confidence, more self-acceptance, more self-love, etc.

Your character could feel stuck between these two identities, on one side, they’ve got their non-human form that’s been labeled as “ugly” or “hideous,” and on the other side, they have their human form, which is praised and makes them feel confident, even if it’s not their real self. It’s like a mask they wear to feel better about themselves, but deep down, there’s still this lingering feeling of “I’m not good enough as I am.”

You can show how this affects their self-esteem and mental state. Every time they look human, they feel a little bit stronger, a little more accepted, but it’s not really them. Maybe they start to rely on the human form so much that they feel lost without it, like they don’t know how to be themselves anymore. That confidence they get when they look human? It’s a bit fake, like wearing an outfit that makes you feel good for a while, but you know once you take it off, all the insecurities come rushing back.

They want to accept their real form, but every time they look at themselves, all they can hear are the voices from their parents and society telling them they’re not good enough, that they need to hide this part of themselves. You can show moments where they’re afraid to let anyone see their true form, even people they care about. They fear rejection, judgment, or that people will think they’re as hideous as they’ve been told their whole life. But, over time, maybe they start to question these ideas. Maybe someone in their life (a friend, a love interest, or even themselves) shows them that their real form isn’t as bad as they’ve been taught to believe. You could even explore little moments where they realize they don’t hate certain parts of their non-human self as much as they thought they did. It’s a slow, difficult process of learning to accept themselves, and it won’t be a quick fix. They might still struggle with the urge to hide behind their human form, but eventually, they start to see that their real self isn’t something they need to conceal or be ashamed of.

Example / The Mirror Scene

The bathroom mirror was fogged up from the hot water, but they could still see the outline of their face. Human face. The one that made them feel like they belonged. A quick wipe of the glass revealed familiar features: smooth skin, symmetrical eyes, a nose that didn’t make anyone flinch. A face they didn’t have to hide.

For a second, they almost smiled. Almost. This face was easier, so much easier, than the real one. The one they kept buried beneath layers of “normal.” With a shaky breath, they glanced at the door, locked, thankfully. No one could see them here. It was safe. It was just them and the mirror. But safety wasn’t comfort, not when the thing they feared most was their own reflection.

The familiar sensation of their skin shifting began, like a wave of pins and needles. Slowly, painfully, the human features faded, replaced by the reality underneath. Their jawline thickened, rough, uneven skin stretching across sharp ridges. The soft eyes they’d once admired in the mirror were now wide and strange, glowing faintly in the dim light.

They hated it. They hated that every time they looked like this, all they could hear was their mom’s voice, calm but full of pity. “You’ll feel better if you just stay in human form. It’s easier.”

Easier. Sure. Except it wasn’t them.

They leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting their real face. “Hideous,” they whispered, like they could get ahead of the insult before someone else could throw it at them. The word hung in the air, suffocating, familiar. They’d heard it a thousand times, from elders, parents, even their friends when they didn’t think anyone was listening.

[coolnighttimetravel]

Yandere Ten Stoneheart cult au x kind reader

CW: yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, kind of suggestive (?).

Imagine an au where you have an issue with the debt. No matter how much you try to make money, you always end up broke. Poor thing, about to get sued by your annoying landlord.

Luckily, IPC noticed your struggle and decided to offer to work for them. You'll get a high payment and be able to pay your bills. All you have to do is to sign a contact and your wish will come true. At first, everything went fine. Untill, you meet with ten stoneheart. Oh, how adorable you are~.

While dating each other, Aventurine and Topaz also fall for you, due to your kindness and caring persona. Since day one, Numby already begins liking you, and later in a few days even becomes attached to you. It warms Jelena's heart so much that's two of you get along so well. Kakavasha feels accepted by you. Just like Topaz, you don't view him as the luck tool, but rather as the person. Every time, when they get injuries, you always stare at them with those adorable concerned eyes. A type of eyes, that's they want you to look only at them. Lately, they've been feeling jealous whenever someone even looks at you. You don't even imagine how much they desire to own you. To hide you somewhere safe and protect you from the cruel world.

Jade is someone you never got along with. Her cunning, sly, and manipulative personality never appealed to you. Yet, Jade has strange feelings towards you. The way you glare at her and coldly reply at her questions, make her attached to you even more. The purple haired women can't stop thinking about you. She wants to know every detail about your life. Your weakness, strength, interest, etc. Jade plans to convince you into making a wish. You can ask her everything you heart desire, but in return, you have to become her personal assistant. Wouldn't it be perfect to put a collar on your pretty neck? Turning you into an obedient pet, who'll do everything for their mistress. She'll assure you that your dependent life will become happy.

Sugilite is intrigued by you as a person. He’s amused how much you want to help people in need. Sugilite hates that you spend so much time with Jelena and Kakavasha. It would be much better if you become his house partner and make meals for him. And as the reward, Sugilite will always spoil you with the delicates. The silver haired guy it's greedy after all, and he'll never want to share what belongs to him.

Obsidian eagers so much to mark you. To bite your bare throat, so everyone knows to whom you'll belong to. The red haired lady would do ANYTHING to have you, even by murdering someone. Every time, when Obsedian think about you, it is usually the two of you bathing in the pomegranate juice. Getting held tight by her, so you'll never escape her grasp. Staying with her for an eternity no matter what!

When you finally realize their unhealthy obsession towards you, you try to end the contact with IPC. You thought you could escape? You poor naive thing. Didn't you read the contact? The one who signs it never escapes from IPC. After all, they'll always turn life into paradise for the miserable people. How can you leave them? If you do, your life will be even worse before joining them. Without IPC, you're not able to survive.

But don't you worry, ten stonehearts will give you another option. Aventurine and Topaz will keep you secure, Jade will make your life richer by depending on her, Sugilite will feed you even more than in your entire life, and Obsidian, well there are secrets that she still keeps for the surprise… Sooner or later, you'll realize that you will be much better under their wings. After all, they'll turn your life into eternal bliss.

I might make it into the series and add other characters, once we'll know more about them. I will write platonic for Opal, though. If you're not shy, you're welcome to give some ideas. However, I will respond slowly since I'm busy.

[laundrypause]

AU where loscar are in high school, Oscar's quite popular and Logan is not as popular but just as much as well-liked. One thing about Logan is he is the most oblivious human to ever exist in the entirety of mankind. People flirting with him? Nah, they're just being nice. Getting chocolates for Valentine's? They must feel bad that he doesn't have one. Notes with hearts attached to phone numbers mysteriously finding their way into his locker? Must be the people he's been partnered with for their midterms. At first, Logan's secret admirers thought he was trying to reject them without outwardly saying no to their advances. And if that really was the case, they'd back off cause yk common decency. But then they find out he actually doesn't realise that these advances are essentially what they are. Advances. So they do what seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution and asked one of Logan's best friends to help them out because maybe their flirtations were too general. Too normal. They needed an insider who knew what Logan liked other than fishing and cars. Things that made his heart flutter, his cheeks blush. They wanted him to know that they were interested in him, not just being friendly. So who else to ask none other than Oscar to help them out.

Oscar wouldn't say he was Logan's bestest best closest friend who knew everything about him down to a T. That position was occupied. But Oscar thinks he knows Logan enough to try and be a Cupid-associate per say and help these poor souls who decided to fall for Oblivious Man™. He doesn't know what the tightening of his chest or the flood of fire trickling through his body means but it's probably the odd gloop of greens the cafeteria calls lunch he ate. Not for any other reason at all.

For about 2 weeks straight, Oscar's the designated Loge(Love) Guru, attempting to inconspicuously ask Logan questions and relaying pieces of said information to the admirers that fit the list of questions they'd emailed him. Yes, emailed him like social media didn't exist and this was the early 2000s or something. The list of questions include:

What's Logan's favourite color?

Is he a steak kinda guy?

His ideal type in 3 words?

Coach or Gucci?

And other questions Oscar deemed.... he'd rather not ask (let's leave it at that).

Logan's a little confused about the sudden influx of questions hurled at him by Oscar but deigns it harmless enough. If it meant he'd get to spend more time with Oscar, he'd take it. Who's there to judge him? Exactly. No one.

It's been weeks ever since the admirers have asked Oscar for help and still...no dice. It seemed like after they'd requested Oscar's expertise, Logan's become even more detached to their pursuits, which should definitely be impossible but it's Logan. He always somehow manages to defy the odds. But maybe this is a sign of some sort, that Logan will never manage to see through the fog and accept that it's possible for people to experience attraction towards him.

When they say this to Oscar, however, he's weirdly defensive. Saying how could they just give up that easily, if they're actually serious about Logan why are they not doing anything more, that actually they were asking the wrong questions. That did they not realize that Logan wasn't that much of a materialist? Their actions need to have meaning, their gifts need to convey a message. They can't just throw a designer watch at him expecting him to know their intentions. Hell, he wouldn't even accept the damn gift because oh why would you spend so much on me? I can't accept this.

Nor can they can't just give him flowers all willy-nilly, just grabbing them off a shelf because it's the most expensive. Purple so obviously clashes with him and didn't they remember when Oscar said Logan liked yellow? They should've gotten him a yellow bouquet with greens and blues complimenting it, yellow because he was as bright as the sun, always exuding warmth and blues and greens because they were the colors of his eyes and wrapped with delicate pink crêpe paper because that's the color of his cheeks whenever he flushes and-

Oh my God, they were dumbasses. Idiots, fools, blockheads. Of course Oscar's 'advice' didn't work. It didn't work because he liked him. He liked Logan. Shit, it was all starting to make sense now, why none of the help Oscar lent truly...helped. Because he didn't want to help them. Because he liked Logan and didn't want them to- God how were they so dumb? It's so obvious now, so clear. The way Oscar's eyes always managed to soften when Logan was in his radar, the immediate hardening of his body, muscles taut whenever someone says something less than friendly to the American, ready to jump into a fight like an aggravated cat or even the way he always seemed to be the first person in line to lend Logan a shoulder when he's tired out of his mind, staving off sleep just to do one more calc question.

Always the one forcing him to take care of himself whenever Logan forgets to. God, they were complaining about Logan being the oblivious one but how about them? Being completely blind to the obvious lovesick simp that was still going on about how the direction of the quirk of Logan's mouth could clearly tell you about the mood he's in.

Oscar, the most discreetly obvious about his feelings. So discreet, he managed to go unnoticed by the admirers until now. So discreet, he himself doesn't realize the extent of what he's feeling for Logan isn't just platonic.

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Fool's Rambling #29:Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

There's this new Kdrama where the female lead accepts the bribe of the mother in law to leave her son.

And I just think it would be funny for Yuu if it were the same.

Premise, feeling bored, Yuu watched a new TV show and got an idea to play a prank with their boyfriend.

Yuu: Ask me if I will leave you for 1 million thaumarks.

Twst boy: What??!

.

.

.

Riddle: Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks???*questions the question*

Yuu: No I won't!

Riddle:*smiles*

Yuu: Unless tax is excluded, too.

Riddle: OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!

.

.

.

Leona:This is stupid.

Yui: Just say it!!!

Leona:*sighs* Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: No, you're way more richer than that!

Leona:Damn right I am.

.

.

.

Azul: Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: Never, but I will leave you for 5 million.

Azul: That's my entrepreneur!

Yuu:Haha! I thought you'd be sad on the prospect I'll leave you.

Azul: Incorrect. You may leave me, but who says "I" will leave you? We are bound by a contract of love. Your money is my money.

Yuu:Greedy.

.

.

.

Jamil: I'd leave you for a goodnight's rest...

Yuu: Hey!You were suppose to say the question to me! *sulks*

Jamil: *sighs*Yeah yeah...will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: Never, I love your cooking too much. I literally can't live without you.

Jamil:*proud smirk*

.

.

.

Vil: What a stupid game.

Yuu: Come on, just say it.

Vil: *raises an eyebrow* Hmph..you're better off doing something else. And I already know you'd never leave me for money so meager

Yuu: So you think I'd leave you for a higher amount?

Vil:*clicks his tongue* You better not, you should know what's good for you *stares at Yuu has offended him already*

Yuu: Yes yes...sorry, Vil. Of course not, you're my #1. The best thing in my world money can't buy.

Vil: Don't patronize me, darling.Besides, you can't buy anything, you're broke.

Yuu: Ouch, reality check.

.

.

.

Idia:Is this one of those dumb TV show tropes?

Yuu: So what if it was? Come on, ask me.

Idia: *sighs* Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: I'd leave you right now for free.

Idia:...

Yuu: I'm joking...Don't give me that look

*Spends hours consoling him*

.

.

.

Malleus: I'd never leave you for all the riches of the world, beloved.

Yuu: Wait, no. YOU ask ME.

Malleus: Oh? Why should I? Are you thinking of it? Leaving me for such a petty sum?

Yuu: No!!! Ofcourse not.

Malleus:*teasing* So a higher sum, then?

Yuu: NO SUM AT ALL!!!*blushes because they realized they were teased*

Malleus: Good to hear, my love. But just in case, let me remind you...*drops several jewels into their hands* That leaving me would be foolish,for I can even offer you the stars if you wish, so perish the thought.

[sweet-little-raven]

*Sigh* Wednesday is trending again, which means that the kiddos out there are gonna start drama again. Please just stop; this is one of the reason why the show was called cringe a year ago and people left the fandom.

1- You have the right to ship Wyler et Wavier. This is your opinion, your preference and I respect it. So why, mainly Wavier shippers, are suddenly back at attacking Wenclair shippers for no reason at all on Tumblr, Twitter and basically every single social media? What are you, 12? Is this hard to respect people's opinions???

2- Stop shipping Jenna and Emma. I'm almost certain this is the reason why we can't tag Emma on Instagram anymore. Ever since the Chappell Roan videos got out, a lot of people have made weird comments saying that they kissed or that they were on a date. Just stop. Stop shipping real people, or do it but silently. All of this is making them very uncomfortable and it's just direspectful to assume things like that. We just got them back, don't make Jenna delete Instagram again and make Emma disappear from it once again.

This just needed to be said. Just be respectful, it's not that fucking hard, goddamit. And when I mean respectful, I mean towards the fans AND the actors. Don't make Wednesday cringe again. Stop being kids and attacking other fans for absolutely no reason because you can't accept the fact that they don't ship your ship. And stop using the fucking Wenclair hashtag to say trash about them, this is getting annoying.

This is also addressed to, like me, Wenclair shippers. You should respect Wyler and Wavier shippers as well; don't give the bad example. Everyone is free to ship the characters they want, and this without any drama or violence. Just be kind to each others, it's not that hard.

Thank you for reading this. If you disagree, then just shut the fuck up because I don't have time to lose arguing with immature people on social media. I'm writing this as a reminder to respect Jenna and Emma and the fans, that's all. Y'all seriously needed a reminder.

Also, don't make Tumblr toxic. I already left Instagram and Twitter because people in here are the most toxic ever, I always loved Tumblr because people were nice, but for a week mad Wavier shippers started posting and insulting which is extremely annoying. Oh, and I also had to turn off my anonymous asks because I got very weird questions from probably bots. Don't make this app bad too, it's basically the only good one left with Pinterest.

I suppose that's all. Goodnight. And don't fucking come at me for saying this, because everything I said in here is true and I am just trying to remind people to be nice, not cause any more drama. If you say something mean here, you will be blocked immediately because, as I said, I don't have time to lose arguing with kids who can't respect an opinion.

Goodnight 🤍☮️

[corviiids]

oh would love to see ur breakdown of whether or not miles could do it tho. if not him then do u think polly could do it

verdict: miles edgeworth could beat kira but not without help and significant damage to his psyche. as a player character he could do it with support. as an npc he would support phoenix to figure it out but would argue the entire time

could miles edgeworth intuit the mechanics of the death note

not at first instance. probably not at all. i think if miles edgeworth received the right combination of clues and/or (but preferably and) was forced to eliminate literally every other option, he would accept the mechanics of the death note as factual. however i don't think 'magic notebook that kills people' would ever enter miles edgeworth's mental realm of things that are possible without someone/something very firmly pointing him towards that fact. he would not arrive at this conclusion on his own. also, phoenix meekly bringing up the possibility in court would give him a migraine.

could miles edgeworth identify light yagami

yes. i think edgeworth would ultimately be able to kira even without intuiting the death note's mechanics. i think figuring out how the book works is the very last stage in this inquisition. but i think he would be able to ID light as a person of interest even without solid information on means and i also think he would really enjoy his verbal battle with light yagami and by enjoy i mean miles edgeworth enjoys talking to people that make him want to tear his hair out. can we all take a second to imagine mind chess/logic chess light yagami edition? can we please think about that

could miles edgeworth survive

yes - see my post about shi long lang:

yes i think he survives owing to the rules of the ace attorney universe which he brought with him, namely that a culprit in ace attorney will politely sit and cooperate while you argue with them and will admit when you've defeated them in argument, which is the least realistic thing about ace attorney. so i think light wouldn't make a move to try and kill lang until his Culprit Breakdown, at which point lang could simply kick him in the shins and pluck the notebook out of his hands because light is three toothpicks taped together.

(miles wouldnt kick light in the shins but if lang, franziska, kay, or gumshoe is there they would do it for him while miles does that arms crossed eyes closed pose about it.)

also noteworthy is that miles would give a speech about how he would gladly risk his own life to kira if it means uncovering the truth

(i put apollo under the cut because this post is too long)

verdict: apollo justice could beat light yagami but i think he would need trucy for help and motivation

could apollo intuit the mechanics of the death note

not organically but i think in true trained by phoenix wright tradition he'd kind of arrive there in a moment of panic by pure accident. trucy would say something nuts and apollo would be like

APOLLO The only thing the witness has on him is a notebook!

TRUCY

Hey, anything can be a murder weapon if you try your best and believe in yourself!

APOLLO What's he going to do with a notebook, write me to death?

APOLLO .........

TRUCY Uh, Polly? You've got a weird face on.

APOLLO I just had a really bad idea.

could apollo justice identify light yagami

i think apollo would be taken in by light for the most part like, kind of kristoph style... listen the bracelet is a weird mechanic. people literally lie all day long forever and apollo only catches specific, gameplay convenient things, just like phoenix with the magatama. (we're back at 'why dont you just question your client with your truth telling powers from the beginning' and the answer is because it is a video game with a narrative that needs gameplay and stakes.) so i think apollo catches light in a couple of white lies and then dismisses it for the most part as like, light's just one of those weird guys with a fakey persona but who is mostly harmless, and light generally tries not to lie directly in favour of speaking vaguely around the truth, so it doesn't really ping apollo as particularly strange until near the end of the case where apollo is like. ive been getting weird vibes from this guy from the start what if that like. means something

anyway i think he'd figure out that it's light in like a tense moment where he feels like trucy or himself or someone else is in danger

could apollo justice survive

yes for the same reasons as above but i think it's a close thing. like i think light gets "Apollo Justic" written in the book before trucy throws a knife at him and nails the death note to the wall and then apollo is like (Y-y-yikes!!! That was close!)

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[talonabraxas]

Vaikuntha Talon Abraxas

Features of Vaikuntha Planets

The spiritual planets of Vaikuntha, the paraṁ dhāma, the supreme abode, are the eternal home to all the spirit souls. The material planets are not Vaikuntha; they are just kuṇṭha and anyone living in these planets is always full of anxiety. The major difference between the spiritual and material planets is that in the Vaikuntha planets, there is no such thing as anxiety. The Supreme Lord manifests in His various personal expansions such as Rama, Narasimha, Varaha, etc. on each of the Vaikuntha planets as the predominating Deity.

Features of Vaikuntha planets

There are many features of the eternal planets of Vaikuntha like:

The forests of Vaikuntha have wish-fulfilling trees, and in all seasons they are filled with flowers and fruits.

In the Vaikuntha planets, the inhabitants fly in their aeroplanes made of lapis lazuli, emerald, and gold.

The birds of Vaikuntha stop their own singing simply to hear the glories of the Lord.

But this kind of features are common, let’s discuss the features that set Vaikuntha apart from all the material and spiritual planets.

Vaikuntha planets have no anxiety

The living entities in the Vaikuntha planets live with no anxiety. Vaikuntha itself means- ‘without any anxiety.’ In the material planets, everyone is in full of anxiety, He may be human or an ant, small, very insignificant. He may be a very rich man or a very poor man. The anxiety is there. Why? Sadā samudvigna-dhiyām asad-grahāt: [Srimad-Bhagavatam 7.5.5] “Because they have accepted this material body.”

No Māyā in Vaikuntha

In the spiritual planets of Vaikuntha, there is no influence of māyā or the departments of existence. Within the body, there are five different departments of existence, known as anna-maya (consciousness of food), prāṇa-maya (the consciousness of being alive), mano-maya (consciousness of one’s existence), vijnāna-maya (consciousness of mental platform) and, ānanda-maya (blissful life of knowledge and eternity).

As said in the Vedānta-sūtra, ānanda-mayo ’bhyāsāt, as long as the living entities are situated in the lower four stages of life— anna-maya, prāṇa-maya, mano-maya and vijnāna-maya—they are considered to be in the material condition of life, but as soon as one reaches the stage of ānanda-maya, he is a liberated soul.

No birth-death cycle in Vaikuntha

No birth-death cycle means, no to the cycle of misery. In the Supreme abode, there is no birth, death, old age, and disease, thus the souls are free. In the material world, everyone is trying not to die, not to become old, not to get diseases. This is natural because, by nature, we are not subjected to these things, thus our endeavour, our activity, is struggling, to become death-less, birth-less and disease-less. The Supreme Lord is sac-cid-ānanda-vigraha, eternal, blissful, knowledgeable, similarly, we, being part and parcel of the Lord are also of the same quality and we are suffering because we have accepted our association with this material world.

Vaikuntha, the abode of eternal bliss

In Vaikuntha, everyone is full of transcendental bliss. Ānandamayo ‘bhyāsāt (Vedānta-sūtra 1.1.12). By nature, they are ānandamaya, always jolly. Also, in this material world, when we become free from the material concept of life, and when one is aware of the fact that “I am not this material body; I am the spirit soul,” he becomes jolly because he acquires the spiritual quality.

No desires, no lamentations in Vaikuntha

Brahma-bhūtaḥ prasannātmā, na śocati na kāṅkṣati: [Bhagavad-gita 18.54] “There is no desire, and there is no lamentation.” In the material world, one who is not God-conscious is always hankering, and if he loses something, he’s lamenting. But in the Vaikuntha, when you are under the surrendered state of the Lord, the hankering and lamentation end, because, where there is God, there is no question of lamentations.

Where is Vaikuntha?

Vaikuntha planets are situated far away from the material world, beyond the boundaries of universes. However, Vaikuntha planets are not just that geographical location. When one is absorbed in the thoughts, feelings and activities related to the Supreme Lord and His service, one is no longer in this material world even though he may physically appear to be in the material world. In his consciousness, he is already in Vaikuntha. Thus ultimately, there is no such thing as the material world, but when one forgets the service of the Lord and engages himself in the service of his senses, he is said to be living in the material world

[yourladyem]

Beetlejuice 3 Story Idea

Dolores and Rory plan to kidnap Lydia for a special Afterlife sacrifice that would give Dolores power over the Living and immortal beauty without the scars of her death. She uses her power of manipulation to trick Rory into believing she loves him and says the ceremony is for Rory to take Beetlejuice's place in her heart as her immortal partner/lover. But secretly it would bind Beetlejuice to her forever and give her the power she desires to return to the Living.

Beetlejuice, Astrid, and Delia team up to save Lydia. Lydia tries calling for Beetlejuice but Dolores blocks her ability. Beetlejuice is the one who notices their connection is severed which causes him to reach out to Astrid for help after finding Delia who also notices her connection to Lydia was also cut. They realize none of them can get a hold of her. But Beetlejuice does figure out he can still contact her through a dream it's a connection with bizarre elements but doable for them.

They could travel through something like Dante's Inferno and Beetlejuice could brag that he literally went through Hell and back for the woman he loves.

No contract this time. No forced wedding. He just does it risking everything for her. But no one realizes it until after they save Lydia who starts questioning his motives immediately after she reunites with them after she found a way to escape. Clues in the dreams he sends her. Beetlejuice sacrifices himself to save her solely out of true love.

Lydia escapes and meets everyone just outside the gates of the sacrificial sanctuary. But her body starts illuminating. She doesn't have much time. They all reunite. Beetlejuice heads for the Hellish sanctuary with fire all around them. Lydia goes after him.

"What's going to happen to you?" Lydia asks.

"I'm giving her what she wants so you can go free?"

"What's the catch? Another bizarre wedding? For a third time? You know you could have asked someone for your Afterlife Green Card. Don't tell me you tricked Astrid into something!"

He sadly smiles at her outburst. He places an ancient sealed scroll in her hands. He holds her hands for a moment and she doesn't pull away. He cups her face and looks deep into her eyes.

"Even after this time you still haven't figured it out."

She doesn't move away when he kisses her pulling her into his arms. Before she knows it, she's kissing him back.

He lets her go.

"I love you, Lydia." Before she can say anything, he runs towards the sanctuary. Lydia is left stunned watching him disappear into the blazing fires confronting Delores for a final stand off as Delia and Astrid pull her away as they escape.

They make it back to the graveyard outside the church through the same exit Richard showed them. It's a beautiful peaceful day.

Astrid and Delia are delighted the nightmare is over. Lydia stumbles towards the bench in front of the crypt and plots down still reeling from the events.

She looks down at the scroll. With shaky hands, she breaks the seal that is bound with a thin ribbon of red lace. Very familiar red lace. Gold lettering appears on the page.

It's a contract. But just any contact.

Delia and Astrid join her. Delia sits beside her asking her what's wrong. She's unable to speak and hands the scroll to Astrid, who reads it.

The contract states he willingly traded his Afterlife for her life solely on the basis of true love and selfless sacrifice. No mutual trade-off except her freedom.

Lydia bursts into tears at the surprise of Delia and Astrid and even herself. Delia comforts her.

"Let me guess. You love him too." Delia smirks. Lydia just cries even more. After decades of denial, Lydia finally accepts the truth but now it's too late. Delia just holds her.

"Well, this explains so much, believe it or not. Still. Even after all the hell we went through with him, still better than Rory."

Astrid smirks in agreement. She started liking him too. He wasn't all bad. He was obviously crazy about her mother and now she knew the extent of it.

Time passes.

Lydia is never truly the same again. She checks the mail at the old Deetz home seeing the postcard from Astrid saying she's having a great time in Brazil with her college friends. She talks with Delia and goes through the rest of the mail finding an old folded-up piece of paper stuck to the back of one of the envelopes. She opens it up and it's an old flyer.

Missing the love of your life? Can't live without someone? Realizing you've made a terrible mistake pushing them away?

Same my name 3Xs.

"No way." Delia states

"It can't be." Lydia whispers. They stare at each other. Oh why not.

Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice.

Nothing.

They head for the foyer. Still nothing.

"Ok. He's not exactly one for subtly. Where is he?" Delia demands placing her fist on her hips. "Where are you! Great. Even I'm starting to miss him."

"The attic." Lydia concludes. They race towards the stairs when a knock comes at the front door.

They freeze. Lydia runs for the front door. A very attractive man with peach fuzz grayish/white hair and very striking familiar eyes smirks at her.

"Miss me, Honeycakes?"

Lydia feels their connection reform. His old self flashes before her then morphs back to the man in front of her. Lydia's jaw drops for more than one reason. "You..."

"It's me. The Juice in the flesh." He grins striking his signature pose.

"It's you?" Lydia finally manages to form a sentence.

"It's me, Lydia." Still grinning.

"It's really you?"

"Mmm hmm."

Her eyes crack in anger. "I'm going to kill you!" She screams charging at him. His smirk drops and bolts for the yard with her not far on his tail.

"Lydia! Lydia! Now wait a minute, Honey!" He keeps screaming at her as she continues trying to grab hold of him.

Delia watches from the porch with headless Charles. "She's going to marry him, isn't she?" She continues watching Lydia's game of murder tag.

"She wouldn't. Would she?" Headless Charles chimes in. Blood spewing out.

"Yes, she would. Still better than Rory, though."

Back in the yard, BJ twists away from his Gothic assailant. "Honey! Honey! Lydia! Babe! Stop!"

"Why? Why should I! Do you know what you put me through?! How are you even alive? How do you look like that?!"

"Did you read the scroll I gave you?"

"Yes!"

He laughs enjoying her irritation catching his breath.

"Then that's all you need to know. I thought it was pretty obvious. I thought it was obvious a long time ago."

She swallows the rising emotion.

"I traded my life for yours that granted me freedom from the Afterlife. Yes, I traded in my good looks for this." Pointing to himself. "Even sacrificing my luscious blonde locks but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to help the woman I love. Again."

She shoulders sag. She looks at him with guilty eyes.

"Since I died on my wedding night - murdered by a death cultist actually who tricked me into marrying her for my soul - only if I selflessly sacrificed myself to save a person out of pure love I would be freed from my death sentence and could return to the Living and Delores would have no power over me again and she couldn't hurt the person I loved. Didn't think it would ever happen until I met you. By the way she is gone for good. Rory too by the way."

Lydia smiles a little. "So not someone else? Why me? You could have had someone else and gotten your Green Card marrying someone else or sacrificing yourself for someone else?"

"Yes, I could have. Even tried a few times before meeting you. But they weren't you. It was always you. It was always going to be us. And despite your best efforts, you've known that too. You can't stop this. You can delay it but never truly stop it. And you knew that too."

She bites her lip.

So," He pulls out a ring from one of his pockets. "What do you say, Honey? Will you marry for real this time? Third time's the charm." He grins.

She bites back the growing tears and nods. He slides the ring on her finger.

"Ok but no take back this ti-" She cuts him off with a rough kiss.

"Called it." Delia smiles. Charles digs into his pocket and hands her some cash.

Beetlejuice and Lydia break the kiss. Lydia smacks his chest.

"Ow!"

"I love you but don't ever do this to me again! That's for the literal Hell you put me through! Including not answering me when I called for you. I know you heard me!"

And they're back to arguing.

"Yeah, that marriage is going to last forever." Delia shakes her head. "Just like us." She turned to Charles.

Third wedding and they're finally married for real. Vows exchanged and he kisses his bride.

"I just have one question." Lydia whispers. "What is your real name?"

"Well it's actually B-"

Bam! Black screen and credits roll

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for systems and headmates who used to be anti endo!

Change can be very difficult, and sometimes, it can feel downright impossible. If you are a system or headmate who used to be anti endo, but has since changed your ways, you deserve to be uplifted, embraced, and celebrated in our spaces. You are a part of the plural community, and you belong here just the way you are! Here’s to those who used to be anti endo, but aren’t anymore!

🌺 Shoutout to systems who first learned about plurality through anti endos, and didn’t want to or were scared to question their beliefs!

🌻 Shoutout to individual headmates in pro endo systems who used to be anti endo, but have since come around!

🌷 Shoutout to systems who do not understand endogenic plurality, but who still cherish and believe endogenic systems!

🌼 Shoutout to systems who used to be anti endo, and then later found out they are endogenic or mixed origins themselves!

🌺 Shoutout to systems who were shunned, cut off, or ostracized from their friends or online community after they started questioning their anti endo beliefs!

🌻 Shoutout to those who used to be anti endo, but now advocate for plural solidarity and acceptance!

🌷 Shoutout to systems who are just beginning to question and change their views regarding endogenic plurality!

🌼 Shoutout to past anti endos who now stand up for and defend endogenic systems!

🌺 Shoutout to those who disliked endos as a result of their trauma history, but who changed after they had the chance to heal, learn, and grow!

🌻 Shoutout to systems who used to be anti endo but are now asking questions, being respectful, and having conversations with endogenic systems!

🌷 Shoutout to systems who changed their anti endo beliefs after being treated with kindness, compassion, and patience by endogenic systems and their supporters!

Anti endos are people too, and they are capable of positive growth and change, no matter who they are today and what they believe. If you are a system or headmate who used to be anti endo, but has since changed your ways or beliefs, please know that we are so very proud of you. Changing your beliefs can be extremely difficult! We are sure that there is a lot of pain, fear, and anger that comes along with being anti endo, and we are so very thrilled to see you reach a point where you can let that bitterness go, or at least direct it towards more deserving targets (like the ableist society that we live in or medical institution that discriminated against us all).

Please don’t ever doubt your place in the plural community. Your past does not define you - the actions you take and decisions you make today are so much more important! Our spaces truly would not be the same without you, and we cherish your presence here! You belong in the plural community and your allyship with endogenic systems speaks volumes. Know that we care about you and we believe in you. You inspire and motivate us towards positive change and being the best system we can be. We hope you can take it easy and have a wonderful day today. Know that we’re in your corner, we’re rooting for you, we are ready to fight for you, and we can’t wait to see what your future holds!

[sokkszn]

you know, he won’t

anton x fem!reader

warnings: (his name is mentioned once so you can very much imagine anyone else in his position) angst angst angsttttttt, mention of period, cussing, questioning his sexuality and damn its just angst guys. fluff if u squint and face away from ur screen👍(proofread but take it w a grain of salt its 5.20am rn)

your relationship with anton was complicated. it seems crazy to say that because you were dating him —have been for years. you knew you loved him, or else you wouldn’t have stayed all those years. it was just how he treats you.

he didn’t treat you badly, you dont think he was even capable of doing so, he was just… so, absent minded? inattentive rather. he just never paid attention. of course theres the cute things that he does like, buying you a fresh bouquet of flowers every weekend, or buying you snacks when you’re on your period. but it was never your favourites, it was never fresh smelling hyacinth, the only flower you found yourself obsessing over, or your favourite bitter-tasting dark chocolate. you remember listing these early on into dating, thinking he would’ve atleast noted it down, but, nothing.

it was all trivial at the end of the day, you know he loves you… he just has an odd way of showing it, you guess. his love was never accommodated to you, he loved you the way he wanted to, there’s nothing wrong with that, you think, but you just wish you could be loved the way you wanted, you wish you could morph him into your perfect man. which sucks, because you knew he was good for you, you knew you loved him, you just wished he was better.

you tried to accept him for what he truly is —distant. but sometimes it hurts? not being able to receive what you want from this relationship knowing he receives what he wants. you know he loves you but why won’t he show it? properly.

you want to hold him in the night, you want to caress his hair to relieve his stress, you want to jump up and down excited with him, you want to love him, but you just, can’t. you can’t look at him without feeling resentment, without feeling like you’re the problem, and sometimes you are, you can admit that, but this.. this is different, its not a fight, its not a disagreement nor is it an argument. you just don’t feel loved, the way you want at least. this makes you feel selfish, but he’s the one being loved, not you. you know that he knows you feel like this, but he won’t do anything about it. you know he loves you, but he wont show it.

he makes you feel disgusting, like you’re unlovable —or rather unworthy of love. but you know he loves you.

it hurts, honestly, it really fucking hurts. you see how he acts with his friends, how he’s comfortable with initiating skinship with them, how he gets excited around them, how he remembers little things about them. honestly? sometimes you think he’s gay.

maybe this is all out of jealousy, but you’re his girlfriend, he just doesn’t fucking act like it.

for some reason, even though you know it’s not your fault, you cant help but feel guilty and tear up at these thoughts, he’s your boyfriend, you’re meant to love him wholeheartedly. and you did, but thats exactly the problem, you did.

maybe, you truly just loved him.

a/n: guys i’ve never been in a relationship i have no clue where this angst came from 👍 also im ngl the whole time writing this i felt like i was in that one sad video, daddy is the sweetest in the world, daddy wants me to be the best, i love my daddy, but…. but he lies 😭😭😭 guys did i eat w the fic name yes or naurrrrrr 🫦

[luckyroll3]

Chef's Kiss: Part 1

Masterlist and Summary

Story inspired by this TikTok.

The Job

Your phone buzzes, a jarring vibration against the calm of your sunlit office. You glance at the caller ID—Marcus Williams. One of your richest, but most demanding clients. You straighten in your chair, already tensing at his potential request.

"Good morning, Marcus," you answer with a practiced calm.

"Morning," he replies curtly. "I need you to organize a dinner event. It's crucial. Sixty high-profile guests. Can I count on you?"

His voice is all clipped edges and impatience. You open your notebook app on your ipad, scribbling details as he rattles them off—a date less than a month out, a list of VIPs, his expectations clear and, as usual, excessive.

"Is that all? I thought you’d want me to host your next event on the moon this time,” you say cheekily, hoping to soften him a bit.

“Ha! Maybe for the next one,” he says with a chuckle. “Your sense of humor is only one of the reasons I rehire you. But it’s mostly your ability to pull off miracles. Can you take care of this one for me?”

“Absolutely. I'm on it," you assure him. He hangs up without a goodbye; the typical Marcus efficiency that you have learned to accept. “Bye to you too,” you say to the dead line.

You exhale, then hit the speed dial for Natalie. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and expectant.

"Nat, we've got a big one," you say, leaning back into the comforting embrace of your leather chair.

"Spill it," she urges, eagerness threading through her words.

"Marcus just tasked us with a high-stakes dinner event." You feel the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders.

"Oof, when's the event?" Natalie's question is a soft tap on the drum of your anxiety.

"In about a month," you reply, eyeing the calendar. The days look too few, the timeframe mocking you.

"Yikes. But hey, we've got this," she says, confidence buoying her tone.

"Right." You smile despite yourself. "You know how Marcus is. We'll need to be meticulous. No room for error."

"Story of our lives," she chuckles. "I'll start prepping a timeline. We can tackle it first thing tomorrow."

"Thanks, Nat," you say, grateful for her unfailing support. "You're a lifesaver."

"Anytime," she replies, and you can almost hear her grin.

"Okay, let's circle back in an hour and set our game plan," you suggest.

"Will do, boss lady," Natalie sings out before hanging up.

You drop your phone on the desk and stare at the notes on the tablet. You take a deep breath, readying your nerves to turn chaos into a masterpiece once again.

You fire off an email to Daniella at Saffron & Thyme, fingers flying over the keys. Your mind thinks back to her restaurant's capabilities, the way they've never let you down. The cursor blinks back at you as you hit send.

"Done," you murmur, leaning back. "Dani should be getting back to us soon."

"Great! Their wild mushroom risotto is to die for," Natalie chimes in from across the desk, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Think it'll make the cut for the menu?"

"Let's hope." you grin, imagining the savory flavors, the impeccable plating.

The ping of your inbox pulls you back. A swift reply from Dani; she's always on the ball. You schedule a call with her for later in the day.

"Phone meeting's set," you announce, catching Natalie's gaze.

"Sweet," she replies, popping a bubblegum bubble. "We're on track."

Hours slip by, a blur of preparation and checklists, until the appointed time arrives. You press the speaker button, and Natalie leans in, pen poised.

"Hey, Dani," you greet as her voice fills the room, all business and warmth.

"Good to hear from you two," Daniella responds, her tone laced with a smile. "Let's talk about this dinner event of yours."

Natalie and you exchange a glance – it's go-time. You dive into the details, outlining Marcus' vision, the high-profile guest list, the atmosphere he’s aiming for.

"Got it," Dani interrupts, brisk yet excited. "I'm thinking something seasonal, maybe add a twist of elegance to each dish?"

"Exactly," you affirm, relief flooding through you. Dani gets it, like always.

"Count us in," she declares. "I'll clear the date. Chef Jax will be thrilled to brainstorm some ideas with you."

"Perfect," you say, and your pulse steadies. One major task checked off the list.

"Can't wait to work with you again, ladies," Dani adds, and you can almost see her managerial nod through the phone.

"Likewise," Natalie pipes up. "This one's going to be epic."

"Definitely." you echo, and after a few more confirmations and well-wishes, you end the call.

You flip open your laptop. Natalie perches on the edge of the glass desk, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm.

"Timeline," you say, your voice slicing through the silence. "We need precision."

"Got it." She leans in, her curls bouncing with each nod. "Let's break it down, hour by hour."

You dive into the heart of logistics, crafting a timeline that reads like a symphony score—every note, every beat mapped out to the second. Your fingers dance over the keyboard as we assign tasks and set deadlines, our words weaving together until a coherent plan emerges from the chaos.

"Florist," you mutter, scanning the list. "Linens, A/V setup..."

"Who do you want for florals? The usual?" Natalie asks, chewing on her pen.

"Rosa's Garden. They've never let us down."

"True. Their orchids are art." Her eyes glint with approval.

You pick up the phone, dialing the familiar number. Rosa answers with her husky, laughter-lined voice, and you pitch our vision—a cascade of white blooms, elegance in every petal.

"Darling, for you, anything," Rosa purrs after a brief haggle over price. "I'll make sure it’s all there, fresh and fragrant."

Relief washes over you. "This is shaping up."

"Like we'd let it do anything else." Natalie grins.

You both sit back, your gazes meeting in quiet triumph. The foundation is laid, the groundwork solid. It's a waiting game now, the calm before the storm of execution.

You move on, the guest list sprawling before you like a challenge. Names, titles, companies – they blur together, a sea of significance.

"Adams needs to be near the bar," you say, remembering his penchant for networking with a drink in hand.

"Far from Johnson though." Natalie taps her lip. "Their last merger talk didn't go well."

"Right." you circle their names, drawing a line between them. It feels like defusing a bomb, a delicate operation where one wrong move could spell disaster.

"Helena will want a view of the stage." you envisage Helena's keen eyes, missing nothing.” Natalie nods, scribbling away. "And check dietary restrictions again," you remind her. "Last thing we need is an allergic reaction."

"Already on it." She grins, confidence a bright spark in her gaze.

"Good." Your shoulders ease a fraction. The details matter. They always do.

"Think he'll be happy?" she asks, a lilt of mischief in her voice.

"Marcus? He doesn't do happy," you smirk. "But satisfied? Maybe."

"Then we're golden." Natalie winks.

You see an email come through from Dani. She’s arranged a date and time for you and Chef Jax to meet and you add it to the calendar.

"We’re the best damn event planners in the city. We’re always golden." Your confidence surges as you send the confirmation reply. You shut down the computers, the screens' glow fading into darkness. “Let’s call it a night.” 

The Meeting

The crisp air of the early evening bites at your skin as you approach Saffron & Thyme, the five-star restaurant nestled in the heart of the city. Leaves rustle underfoot, a whispering prelude to the bustle inside. You're here to discuss Marcus’ event.

A sudden rush of wind signals an intrusion into your thoughts. A man on a bike, all athletic build and tousled hair under a baseball cap, clips your shoulder as he whizzes by. "Sorry, mate!" he calls out, his voice tinged with an Australian accent that curls around the words like smoke. He swings back around and heads towards you.

“You okay?” His warm brown eyes meet yours, before performing a silent appraisal of your body. “I underestimated the distance between us. But you’re good, yeah?”

“I’m good,” you respond. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay!” He grins broadly, two dimples appearing. It’s one of the most gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen. “Sorry again.” He winks, then starts pedaling and disappears down the alley. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off. Time is ticking.

Inside, the familiar scent of herbs and freshly baked bread welcomes you. It's comforting. You smooth down your blouse and ask the hostess for Dani and Chef Jax.

Dani emerges a few seconds later, her face both apologetic and reassuring. “Hey!” She greets you with a quick kiss on both cheeks. “So good to see you.”

“Nice to see you again Dani. Thanks so much for taking on this event with such short notice.”

“Of course. So I have some bad news. Chef Jax left a week ago to become the private chef for a big celebrity.” Her tone suggests this is more gossip than disaster. She sees concern cross your face and quickly adds, "But don't worry, we've got someone even better."

That's when he steps into view. You blink quickly as Dani ushers forward the new chef. It’s the biker from the sidewalk. His entrance is nothing short of magnetic; the kitchen's heat seems to have followed him out, adding a shimmer to his tanned skin. Chris' smile, complete with its playful dimples, radiates confidence. He strides towards you, the embodiment of every culinary fantasy you didn't know you had. You wonder if you’re developing a chef kink. You feel warmth flooding your cheeks.

"Chris has taken over the kitchen," Dani says, proudly introducing the man whose hands, strong and skilled, once deftly navigated a bike handle, now destined to craft your event's menu.

Chris steps forwards, a grin tugging at his full pink lips. "Sorry again for bumping into you. Nice to properly meet you," he says, his grin spreading wider and his rich brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Seems I’ve made quite the first impression, huh?”

You swallow, forcing a smile. “It was quite the entrance. Would have been more impressive if you were doing some tricks,” you quip, aiming for light-heartedness. “But water under the bridge.”

Chris chuckles as he extends a hand, his large palm enveloping yours in a firm handshake. His skin is warm, the touch sending an unexpected jolt of electricity sparking up your arm. You stare at your joined hands, acutely aware of his lingering gaze.

“Christopher Bahng, but everyone calls me Chris.” You introduce yourself. “An absolute pleasure.” Chris lifts your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

A shiver dances down your spine at the sensation. You're drawn to him, undeniably so. But this is work. You nod, your mind stamping down the attraction, forcing professionalism to the forefront. You clear your throat, slipping free of his grasp, but the tingling remains. “Shall we discuss the event?” you ask, looking between Chris and Dani.

Chris chuckles again, the sound warm and throaty. "Straight to business. I like that."

The three of you sit at an empty table near the back, Dani taking her place at the head while you and Chris flank her sides, sitting across from each other. Every inch of air between the two of you is charged with unspoken tension.

"So, let's talk about the dinner," you start, opening your folder. Your voice is steady, all business now. "We're looking for something that makes a statement."

"Ah, I love a good challenge." Chris leans in, his forearms on the table, and you're acutely aware of the muscles beneath his rolled-up sleeves. The scent of spice and citrus wafts off him towards you, clean and intoxicating. "Tell me more. What do you have in mind?" His gaze on you is intense.

You glance away, heart pounding. Get a grip, you chastise yourself. You smooth a stray curl behind your ear, summoning your most confident tone.

"An upscale six-course tasting menu to impress our guests." You outline the specifics, including the ambiance you're aiming for. Chris nods along, his eyes never leaving yours, as if every word you say is vital. It's flattering and a little unnerving. You find yourself leaning in too, drawn into his orbit.

"Ambitious. I like it. Sounds like we've got some exciting work ahead of us," he says once you finish, his dimpled smile returning full force. You can't help but return it, despite the warning bells in your mind.

You clear your throat again. “Will the kitchen be able to handle this? Given the sudden changes in staff?”

“My team can handle anything.” Chris smiles, sending a thrill through you. "I'll make it an evening you won’t forget."

You swallow hard, tearing your gaze from his. This chemistry is dangerous. Off limits. You straighten, smoothing your expression into cool professionalism.

"Wonderful. Shall we finalize the details then?" You flip open your ipad, poising the stylus over the screen.

Chris leans back in his chair, regarding you through half-lidded eyes, studying your face. You raise a brow.

After a long moment, Chris chuckles again, content with whatever it is he’s discovered. "Details it is." He folds his hands on the table, giving you his full attention. "What do you need from me?"

You go back and forth discussing the details. Dani chimes in as necessary, but the conversation is mainly between you and Chris. Dani excuses herself to deal with something in the back.

"Imagine this," he starts, "a deconstructed bouillabaisse, each element a surprise on the palate."

You nod, intrigued. The idea is bold, inventive. It's exactly what Marcus loves.

"Seafood sourced locally?" you ask, thinking of freshness, sustainability—the buzzwords that please your clients.

"Of course." Chris' smile is confident. "Nothing but the best."

You move on to presentation, discussing plating styles. Rustic elegance versus modern chic. He sketches shapes on a napkin—curves, lines, a swoop here for sauce, a stack there for texture. You watch him work. The way his brow furrows in concentration, the occasional bite of his lip.

"Guests eat with their eyes first," he says, locking eyes with you. His enthusiasm is infectious.

"Absolutely," you agree, feeling the pull of his passion. You turn back to your notes. “Marcus also has a love for theatrics, so keep that in mind too.”

Chris nods, and makes a few additional suggestions.

You glance up from your notes, meeting Chris's gaze. His eyes are warm, crinkling at the corners as he smiles. Your heart stutters at the sight.

"I think we have everything covered." You pretend to scan your notes and hope your voice sounds normal. "Unless there's anything else you want to discuss?"

“Dietary restrictions?”

“I’ll have my assistant Nat send you notes on that once we finalize the guest list by the end of the week.”

“Perfect.”

“Just be prepared. The requests from these rich folks tend to border on ridiculous. We’ll need to figure out how to incorporate them without sacrificing the menu's integrity. It might be a bit much given our timeline. Given the potential complications, does the end of the week still work?”

“I’ll make it work,” he says confidently.

"Great. Thank you." You breathe easier. Your eyes connect with his and neither of you look away.

"All set?" Dani asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and breaking the spell.

"Yup! All set," you confirm, finally looking away and standing as you slip the tablet into your bag. You feel lighter, energized by the collaboration, by Chris' fervor. The event looms large, but so does the excitement. And maybe something more. “Thanks for meeting with me today.”

Your gaze drifts again to Chris, as he rises as well. You watch the way his hair curls just slightly under the edge of his baseball cap, how his eyes glint with life and laughter. Your heart thuds harder. You're not supposed to notice these things. He rounds the table to stand next to you.

“The pleasure was all mine.” His voice is low and husky, catching you mid-stare. A knowing smile plays on his lips—the dimples teasing you. "Got your phone?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah." You fumble in your bag, your cheeks warm. You trade phones, fingers brushing, lingering. Numbers are exchanged, a necessity cloaked in possibility.

"Call me if anything changes," he says, handing back your device. His eyes hold yours, a silent conversation you're both too aware of. Time stretches until you come to your senses.

"Will do," you manage, voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Chef," you say, turning to leave.

Chris grins. “Until next time.”

Out on the sidewalk, the city buzzes around you. You tuck into the stream of people, lost in thought. The quickening pulse at the base of your neck is hard to ignore. Chris. His talent, his charisma, his looks —dangerously magnetic.

You're drawn to him, undeniably so. But this is about work. You’re wondering how you will resist him. The questions loop in your mind, chasing each other like shadows as you navigate back to the office.

Still, his smile lingers. The plump lips. The twinkle in his eye. The fucking dimples. There's no denying the chemistry between you, a dangerous attraction that threatens to derail the event if you're not careful. Still, you can't ignore the thrill his heated looks ignite within you or how his passion for cooking sparks your own enthusiasm.

You take a deep breath.

Back at your computer, you find several emails from Marcus, each terser than the last, demanding updates. You don’t have time for fucking romance. With a sigh, you settle in to respond, pushing all thoughts of Chris from your mind.

The Recipe Tasting

The brass handle is cold under your touch as you push open the door to the restaurant, a sanctuary of calm in the early hours of Saturday morning. Chris’ message said to just come on in when you arrived. A thrill dances up your spine, mingling with the anticipation that's been simmering since you set this meeting with him. The moment you step inside, the rich tapestry of scents wraps around you—garlic, fresh herbs, a hint of citrus.

"Good morning," Chris greets. There’s a hint of fatigue in his eyes, but his dimpled smile radiates warmth against the cool backdrop of the quiet dining room. His chef's whites hug his athletic frame, a stark contrast to the dark, tousled curls peeking out from beneath the gray beanie he's donned today. You follow behind him, and can’t help it when your eyes drop to take in how well the pants highlight his perfectly round ass. You glance around the pristine kitchen, noticing the organized chaos of ingredients and tools laid out for the tasting.

“How long have you been here?” you ask.

"Since four this morning," he says over his shoulder, with a shrug. The motion accentuating the breadth of shoulders beneath the crisp white shirt. “There’s a lot to prepare, but I wanted everything to be perfect for you.” His tone is laced with pride.

"It’s just a tasting. No need for perfection. Yet," you respond, admiring the dedication.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he replies.

In the kitchen, stainless steel surfaces gleam under the fluorescent lights. A pan sizzles on one of the stoves, punctuating the symphony of aromas. Chris removes the pan from the heat before leading you to a prep table, ingredients arrayed like paint on an artist's palette. He pulls out the stool for you. As you sit, you feel his thumb graze lightly across your side. You’re unsure whether it was intentional or accidental. You don’t react outwardly, but inside, you start to feel fluttering in your belly.

"Let me show you what I've got planned," he says, gesturing towards the display with his broad, strong and veiny hand.

"Surprise me," you challenge, your voice steadier than your racing heart.

One by one, he lifts lids from pots, unveiling the dishes. Each carries a story, a piece of his soul: braised short ribs that hint at his Korean heritage, vibrant vegetables speaking to his Australian upbringing. He talks, hands painting the air with his passion, eyes alight with creativity.

"Each dish is a chapter," he explains. "A narrative in flavor."

You nod, captivated not just by the food but by him—by the fervor in his voice, the spark in his gaze. Today, Chris isn't just a chef; he's a storyteller, and you hang on every word.

Chris approaches with the first dish, his stride confident. The steam curls upward as he sets it down before you, the aroma a prelude to the flavors awaiting discovery.

"Try this," he urges, the dimples in his cheek deepening with his encouraging smile.

The fork feels cool against your fingertips. You spear a tender morsel, and it succumbs to the gentle pressure. Brought to your lips, the flavor blooms across your tongue—earthy, rich, with a whisper of spice that tickles your palate.

"Wow," escapes from you. It's more than taste; it's emotion, memory, a dance of textures and aromas that resonate with something primal within you.

Chris leans on the stainless steel table, eyes locked on yours, searching for more than approval. "What does it remind you of?" His voice is low, inviting.

"A bonfire during sunset on a secluded beach. That moment when the sky's ablaze and you're caught between day and night," you say, the image so clear you can almost hear the waves lapping at the shore.

"Perfect," he breathes out, satisfaction lighting up his face. "That balance is exactly what I was aiming for."

"Chris, this is... incredible." Your words are honest, stripped of pretense by the genuineness of the experience.

"Good, because there's more to come." He stands straight, the professional veil slipping back into place, but the lingering look he gives you is all warmth and shared secrets.

"Bring it on," you reply, the challenge in your tone softened by a playful smile, eager for the next act in this delicious play.

You watch as he plates the next dish and walks back to you. He slides the plate in front of you, the vibrant colors of the dish popping against the stark white. Your nostrils flare slightly, taking in the aromatic fusion wafting from the arrangement.

"Try this," he encourages. "A little adventure on a plate. Octopus carpaccio with chorizo crumble and saffron aioli."

You lift your fork to your lips. The first bite is a revelation as the medley of bold, yet harmonious flavors explodes on your tongue. A soft moan escapes you before you catch yourself.

Chris smirks at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at you’re reaction. “Glad you like it.” He slides a glass towards you. You take a sip, surprised to find that it is white wine, but it’s perfect as it accentuates the flavors. “The saffron provides an interesting contrast to the the brininess of the octopus.” He picks the glass up and brings it to his own lips.

"It's amazing." You gesture at the dish with your fork. "The blend of textures and flavors is incredible." You place another forkful into your mouth, closing your lips around the silverware before pulling it out slowly to get as much as the flavor off as possible. You notice his eyes focused on your lips. "Your skill... it's exceptional." You speak between bites, each word sincere.

"Cooking is an art form. The ability to blend flavors and culinary traditions from different cultures is fascinating to me." He leans forward, his gaze snapping back up to your eyes. "But the real joy is in sharing the experience with someone who appreciates it."

"I love cooking too, but it’s more of a hobby for me. There's so much joy in exploring new tastes, new techniques."

"Exactly! For me, it began with my grandmother's recipes. She brought Korea to our Australian kitchen." His hands animate his words, the story bringing a dance to his fingers as they mimic chopping and stirring.

"Family recipes are treasures." You pause, the memory of your dad's jerk chicken seasoning your words with nostalgia. "My dad's Caribbean roots spice up our meals. It's like every dinner tells a part of our story."

"Food is our connection to heritage, to family." Chris nods, a grin spreading across his face, softened by the dimples that carve into his cheeks. "It's amazing how it brings people together, isn't it?"

"Absolutely." You smile, lost momentarily in the shared understanding, the common ground blooming like the herbs in a well-tended garden. With each shared anecdote, the connection deepens, roots twisting around a budding possibility.

You reach for the next plate, not sure what it is, but eager to taste anyway. Chris reaches for the plate at the same time, his intention to guide you through the flavors of his latest creation. Your fingers graze his, light as whispers, as you simultaneously grab the plate and a shock of warmth surges up your arm. You freeze, caught in the unexpected intimacy of skin against skin.

His gaze locks with yours. It's a silent conversation, a question posed in the depths of his brown eyes that beg for an answer. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm, betraying the calm façade you struggle to maintain. The air crackles with the energy shared in that fleeting touch, the undercurrents of attraction swirling like steam from the hot dishes scattered across the counter.

The moment stretches, awareness growing between you both. You want nothing more than to close the distance between your bodies, to discover the taste of the full, sensual mouth that has been tempting you all morning. His gaze dips to your mouth then returns to your eyes, and you wonder if he's imagining the same thing. You wonder if he'll act on the desire simmering in the air. But after a long moment, he straightens and clears his throat, looking away.

"Sorry," he murmurs, but there's no real apology in his voice, only a low timbre that resonates somewhere deep within you. His smile is a half-formed thing, laden with meanings you're not sure you should decipher.

“It’s fine," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "What is this?" you ask, referring to the plate still held by both of you. You release it, allowing him to set it down in front of you. You sit back in the stool, trying to calm yourself.

“Taste it.” He picks up your fork and scoops up the perfect bite before guiding it to your mouth. You open wide, your eyes locked on his as the fork enters your mouth.

Rich flavors explode on your tongue—spicy chili, fresh lime, and tangy fish sauce with coconut milk, redolent of Chris's Korean-Australian heritage.

"My halmeoni—my grandmother—taught me this recipe." His eyes soften with affection. "It's one of my favorites. A fusion of Korean and Australian flavors."

"It's incredible." He fills up another forkful and offers it to you. You close your eyes as you accept it, savoring another bite. "The blend of spices is perfect."

"I'm glad you appreciate it." His smile is warm and genuine. He uses the same fork to take his own bite. You bring the glass of wine to your lips for another sip and watch as he chews, then swallows slowly. When his tongue darts out to lick his lips you feel your vagina clench. His eyes haven’t left you either.

The air seems to vibrate between the two of you. His eyes drop to your lips again, you start to lean forward, closing the gap between you as if drawn by an invisible force. Chris mirrors you, his breath beginning to mingle with yours as you both move closer to each other. In this charged space, time seems suspended, waiting for one of you to shatter the delicate balance with a single, reckless act.

As you start to close your eyes, the kitchen door bangs open, shattering the moment. You and Chris spring apart as Dani strides in, her confident steps resonating on the tiled floor. She pauses, taking in the scene with a knowing tilt of her head. "Morning, you two," she says, a hint of amusement coloring her words. "How’s the tasting going."

You sit back in the stool, the bubble of tension popping in the wake of her arrival. Chris clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck and the tips of ears turning bright red as he busies himself with adjusting the placement of the dishes. "Good, good," he says, the casualness of his tone not quite reaching his eyes. “We’re almost done here.”

“Cool.” Dani raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment further. She moves past the two of you to the office in the back of the kitchen, her motion sweeping away the remnants of the moment you and Chris almost shared.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as Dani delves into her pre-opening routine.

You catch Chris' eye once more. He smiles warmly and begins to explain the last few dishes he’s prepared, sharing them out on small plates. He lets you feed yourself this time. The two of you easily slip back into your roles as you discuss how the dishes fit together and what makes the most sense for the event. You both busy yourselves with taking notes as you work together to finalize the menu. Although tension still lingers in the air, thick and heady as the aromas wafting through the kitchen, neither of you acknowledge it.