#japanese breakfast set

[anythingbyadriannelenker]

japanese breakfast dressed as lord of the rings characters for halloween and it was AMAZING. like full commitment to the bit, including elaborate costuming, stage theming, and the fucking "what about second breakfast?" scene playing before the encore.

[arcticmonkeysaf]

that matt retweeted this is so funny 😭

[garbagequeer]

i dont care if posing for cars live happened to you it should have happened to me

[mwebber]

osheaga sched be like hey. do you ever want to be in two places at once

[ros3ybabe]

Winter Break Goals/Habits/Things to Begin

So, my winter break begins Saturday officially, even tho I finish all my schoolwork by tomorrow/Thursday. I figured to keep me on track with my goal of being a better me in 2024, I'd make a list of some things I'd like to incorporate into my days during my 6 week long winter break! Not everything will be accomplished, but I'm going to try my hardest.

🩷 My Winter Break List 🩷

consistent workout routine 3-5 days a week

try out a pilates class (local studio)

study japanese/spanish every day (create a new routine for studying either)

consistent sleep schedule (10pm - 6am)

daily afternoon hot girl walks (30+ minutes)

daily gratitude journaling

answer a journal prompt daily

read every day, 1 chapter of a book minimum

pick up a hobby and practice it several times a week (drawing, crochet, etc)

daily morning and night skincare

daily meditation (in the morning)

educate myself on healthy financial habits

drink electrolytes daily

watch one episode of a TV show minimum (NOT American Dad - thats my comfort sho)

clean bedroom and do laundry often, weekly at worst

get ready for the day, every day (do my hair, wear clothes I DIDNT sleep in, maybe some light makeup)

eat breakfast every day

meet my protein goal daily

track all my habits daily

it seems like a lot, yes, but it is completely doable as some of these habits take 10 minutes or less and I have 24 hours in a day to fill up. I get bored very easy si if I don't set goals, I'll end up staying in bed on my phone all day long and that's not healthy or productive whatsoever. I'll include these in my daily challenge updates too to keep myself accountable!!

here's to trying ro be a better me!

til next time lovelies 🩷

[cheralith]

vogue — 「 boss/fashion designer!geto suguru x reader 」

synopsis ; even without much knowledge in the world of fashion, you decide that it's in your best interest to work for the country's fashion magazine powerhouse. however, you begin to second-guess your decision when you're faced with the grueling labor of its one and only editor-in-chief who expects nothing less of perfection. can your efficiency meet his standards or will you be out the door before you can even blink?

content tags/warnings ; gn!reader, use of they/them pronouns, mild language, traditional japanese basis of (l/n) (f/n) used, reader wears glasses, makeup, and heeled boots, some mild manga and jjk 0 spoilers (three minor characters from each are introduced), uhhh suguru being a dick lawl, some parts not edited/not beta read

contains ; editor-in-chief!geto, fashion designer!geto, assistant!reader, assistant turned ****!reader, platonic roommate!ino, modern au, mild angst, some crack if you squint

word count ; 10.2k

notes ; heavily inspired by "the devil wears prada" and "paradise kiss", so there'll be some references i've dropped within this—see if you can spot them! also the censored is spoilers so until then, hehe.

now playing ; seven days in sunny june - jamiroquai

It’d be foolish not to know the household name of Geto Suguru, the ultimate male muse of Jun Takahashi whose title has yet to be reigned by another. He was the ultimate breathing mannequin of the iconic Yohji Yamamoto piece he had worn on the Milan runway back when he was just a teenager. It was one of the most staple pieces of the new century that helped open the gates of the mixing of world culture and avant garde fashion—an England-Japanese punk fusion of an ashen and tattered kasaya layered under the contrasting statement piece: the earth-toned gojōu-gesa splattered with weaves of gold—and it was that very piece that rose him to the top of the fashion world as one of the most powerful names in global fashion.

And how could he not? At seventeen, he was scouted as a model for Gaulthier and became his muse at the ripe age of twenty before several other worldwide designers began to fight for his eyes. It was only a few shrewd years later that he’d open up his own successful fashion line, RIIKO, named in honor of his late sister, resulting in it becoming one of the fashion line pillars in the modern century. 

It didn’t take long after that, due to his fame and distinct education from Jujutsu University, rising to the top for Kaizen fashion magazine and ruling it with an iron fist and several cups of coffee with almost all his designs on display for all to see in the office. It was due to his work that Kaizen became the powerhouse of powerhouses of fashion editorials and magazines and it was solely his work that made fashion what it was in present times. 

Whether it was direct or indirect, Geto had impacted the industry in all sorts of ways. Be it blossoming an upcoming supermodel’s name or setting new fashion trends, everything could essentially be traced to Geto Suguru. 

So it’s understandable that many had called you a fool—a dimwit, even—for not understanding how big of a deal it was to become his junior assistant after lazily submitting your resume. Originally, you had just wanted to become a simple lifestyle journalist for papers like Sankei Shimbun or The Japan Times, but seeing how it was between a seemingly mysterious fashion magazine that mentioned, received gasps, or the measly and homely newspaper of The Hokkaido Tribune, a magazine you knew would only give new journalists the scraps of what they earned, the choice was obvious. 

Whatever gave you more money, you’d take. Survival of the fittest, was this world not?

“Do not tell me you’re going to your interview at Kaizen wearing that?” Ino barks out a laugh as he finishes his morning cereal for breakfast, scanning your outfit. “You’re going to work in a fashion magazine, not some dingy corporate office.”

You sneer at him as you shove on your loafers (don’t mind that the leather is peeling slightly on the side). You think that there’s nothing remotely wrong with your overused gauntlet gray matching set of trousers and blazer with a slightly wrinkled button-up underneath it. 

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at your roommate and parttime brother figure. “What on earth do you know about fashion?”

“Enough of it to know that outfit is atrocious for that type of environment,” he states simply as he shoves a donut in his mouth. He kicks his feet up on the table, making you cringe at their nakedness. “Trust me, change if you can. Make a statement for ‘em.”

Ino Takuma sighs and glances at your thick spectacles that you’ve worn since early college. “And at least change your glasses for your contacts. Heard they don’t like those sorta things over there. At least not the prescription kind.”

“Can’t find them,” you grunt when you feel the weight of your shoulder bag heave down your body. “I’m already late, anyway,” you sigh, “Listen, if I don’t come back alive, which I will by the way, then you can dance on my grave all you want.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he chants before he lets out a haughty snicker that gets muffled instantly when you slam the door on him. 

You throw insults at Ino in your mind, grumbling about how a mere job hopper like him wouldn’t even know the speck of fashion, how you refuse to take advice from someone who wears the same thing every day. There’s nothing wrong with the gray, you think. It’s safe and presentable, ordinary and professional, and you’d much rather blend in than stand out as you believe standing out and making yourself known is just a recipe for trouble. 

Stretching out a hand on the street, you call for a taxi and humbly enter as you smooth out your trousers. The taxi driver eyes you in the rearview mirror with a questioning glint in your eye. “Job interview?” he asks.

“Oh, um,” you nod your head. “Yep! I'm a little nervous, haha.”

“Really?” he says as he gratefully steps on the accelerator a little faster. “Better get you there quick, then. Would hate to have you late. Where are you planning on working?”

“Kaizen Magazine,” you declare confidently, an affirmative look on your face.

“Kaizen?” questions the driver slowly as his eyes go to scan your outfit in the mirror again, his brows raised. “As in the… the fashion magazine?” 

You nod with visible apprehensiveness. You think that maybe you truly were the only person in the world that didn’t know the impact of Kaizen, seeing as how a mere taxi driver even knew about the name and you didn’t up until a few weeks ago. 

“I see…” he mutters. The drive there is a mix of silence and everyday morning conversations, before he pulls up to the building that held the key to your dreams. “Well then, here’s your stop.” 

You let out a little gasp of excitement. “Thank you so much,” you reply as you shove some cash into the slot. 

“Hm, well,” the taxi driver counts the money carefully, barely looking just before you close the door as he mutters, “Good luck, Plain Jane.”

You turn back to the taxi, your hearing a little awry. “Sorry, what was that?”

But when you turn back to the yellow cab, all that’s left is a billow of smoke and cinders. Dazed and confused, you quickly shake those feelings off before you head inside to the building that was now your shining beacon of hope with a determined smile still plastered on your lips. White is the first thing that greets you when you enter the building as it was essentially aired out onto every corner. White marble counters, white tile flooring with white grout, white frames of fashion icons—the white screams pristine and perfection to you and its message went very much noticed. You haven’t even met Geto Suguru yet, but you understood already that he expected nothing but excellence.

You ride up the elevator quietly and alone, trying not to focus on how your anxiety increased with each ding of the passing floors. The elevator screen seems to almost taunt you as it closes in on your doom, the numbers getting closer to the designated floor until it slowly pauses and shone brightly the number 21 in stippled red.

The doors slowly open and the light seeps itself back to your vision, white flooding your senses again. You carry yourself carefully down the hallway whilst taking your time to admire the many framed pictures of past magazines, multiple runway models, and scraps of newspaper articles. One specific piece catches your attention, however; it was large, almost half your body size and framed in a gilded black frame. It was a picture of a mannequin wearing a tawdry gray-black robe with the kanji characters of “summer” painted with purple messily atop. Layered was a loose, but well-fitted piece of thick green and gold cloth that looked much more refined to the messiness of the other materials. 

You stare at it for what seemed to be forever whilst admiring the contrast and beauty of the work before your name is called out.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

Your trance breaks from the voice approaching you. You turn to see a short and young woman with dark blue eyes staring at you with a raised brow. “That’s you I presume?” she asks.

“Oh! Uh,” you nod furiously and smooth out your trousers again. “Yes… yes, that’s me. I assume you’re Manami Suda? The one I spoke with on the phone?”

She nods slowly, her eyes going to study your outfit which was a rather stark contrast to her own attire that highlighted an emphasis on shades of opal and navy. Her eyes have a similar glint in the way that Ino’s and the taxi driver’s had, further enunciating the message that your attire was rather… something.

“I see you’ve dressed up for the occasion,” she murmurs. Sarcasm going undetected by you, you grin as a response and think that a compliment from her was a sign you did something right. Her eyes go to rise back and meet yours again before she turns and redirects you to the end of the hallway where some rooms belonging to subordinal editors sat in, clacking away at the computers. There was one singular room that held the only door on the floor and it doesn’t take you long to assume who it belongs to considering the large letters of GS frosted onto the glass.

Two desks stood on each side of the door, one completely devoid of life and decorations. Manami guides you to the empty one and patted the top of it. “This will be yours if you manage to miraculously pass.” 

Manami taps on her clipboard a couple of times, listing off a couple of requirements that you were most likely going to need in the future: efficient time management, ability to fight for what Geto wants, sharp memory, quick feet…

“And uh…” Manami flickers her eyes to you and the details (or lack of, in this case). She mutters under her breath quietly, “... a good wardrobe.”

You turn to her, internally wondering if you were going deaf today. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“A good, warm…” she squints, obviously finding the right word to keep that ignorant smile on your face. “... welcome to start off his day.”

She succeeds in her task as you merely nod with the same blatant grin attached. “Got it!”

Manami tours you around the floor of the office, letting you say hello to your future coworkers that work in the cubicles that send you worried looks behind your back. They obviously seem too pitying of you, knowing that your fate would be sealed as Geto’s potential right hand man the moment you signed that employee contract.  

“This is Human Resources,” Manami gestures over to a room filled with chattering employees who seemed to be getting their gossip out before their day started. “You’ll contact them if you have any—” her phone dings suddenly. Casually, she pulls it out, only for all of her resolve to disappear in an instant. Manami then abruptly blows a whistle with her teeth, alerting everybody in the radius.

“Everybody! His morning facial was canceled!” Manami hollers. “Geto is coming in…” her phone pings again with another notification, and you can tell Manami’s heart instantly drops. “Oh God… he’s in the lobby! Everybody, places! You,” she snags the sleeve of your blazer and drags you along with her, your clunky loafers nearly tripping you. “Come with me.”

Manami takes back to where you first started and orders you to stand in the front of the blank desk with a look that screams both fright and anxiousness all in one. She lists off too many tasks that you need to do before he comes, but you’re so frazzled with trying to remember how to act in front of your future boss that you can’t even remember the first thing she told you. 

“Help me arrange the drafts of the magazines from most recent to least recent before he—”

The elevator dings and all goes quiet; Manami tosses the magazines over her shoulders and positions herself firmly in her place, gesturing for you to do the same. The doors open and unveiled from two bodyguards is a man—a tall man, around six feet or perhaps even taller—dressed in noir fitted pants and a matching button-up closed only halfway to reveal a silk navy turtleneck. Caped behind him is a black velvet trenchcoat that you’re sure is worth half your rent and a watch plated on his wrist that is well over your life savings. He’s slightly sunkissed, with blue-black tresses of hair with a soft bang sneaking through and large plated earrings to match. His eyes, however, show a tint of color—a sharp dark amethyst that you think could cut through you like crystals.

But he’s almost hauntingly attracting—like a spirit. Something about him was an enigma and his aura was nothing less than powerful. 

“Good morning, Geto,” Manami chants with an artificial happiness to her tone.

Geto doesn’t reply, just merely giving a silent blink before he sheds his coat off and tosses it aimlessly towards Manami. It proves to be heavier than anticipated, giving how she fights to groan from the weight of it. He’s handed his briefcase from one of the bodyguards and begins to open the door to his office until he pauses and turns and glances at you, the stranger.

“Hello,” you state with a slight bow. “I-I’m one of the interviewees for your junior assistant. My name is—”

“(Y/N),” Geto murmurs; his voice is soft and low. It’s all knowing, with indigo eyes boring into your own. ��(L/N) (Y/N), I know. The one that graduated from Jujutsu University recently, yes?” 

 Adjusting your glasses to wave away the blurriness, you nod with anticipation. “Yes, that’s me.”

Geto turns back and opens the door, to which he only replies back, “In my office.”

You glance at Manami for confirmation, only given back with a jut of her head towards the door. All the unease you felt in the elevator comes hurdling back to you in an instinct and you feel as if you were no more than a peasant to someone that was essentially royalty in the fashion world. 

Geto turns his chair to face away from you, shuffling a few papers over each other that appears to be your resume, before he spins it slowly towards you. He kicks his feet up lazily on his desk. 

“It’s nice to have another Jujutsu alum to join us,” he says. His voice is still the same—a little baritone with a wisping edge of a whisper to it, but it almost sounds… bored. Unamused even. “A bachelors in print journalism… same as mine, hm. Tell me, is Professor Tengen still as loose as ever with their practices?”

You fight to fiddle with your glasses as you watch as Geto tangibly toys with his own, with his focus angled on the papers in front of him rather than you. “Um, I assume so. Though I believe they’re actually retiring this year.”

“Good,” he sighs in what seems to be relief. “Shame that the university had wasted time and money by hiring them. Truly, I hope they can find someone much better suited for their position.”

“Really?” you quietly question. You had only taken their class a few semesters ago and thought despite their rather… all too lenient disposition… you did learn quite a lot in their class. “I thought they were a rather alright teacher…”

Regret pools in your mouth from the moment you have finished your sentence. Geto finally goes to look at you from the edge of his glasses with a sharp look, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. 

“Tengen was merely a sorry excuse for a professor. They were rather nothing but a nanny who gave their students too much leeway,” Geto declares. “Though, I’ll admit, I am pleasantly surprised that you managed to take something out of that class.”

A laugh that’s just dripping with nothing but nervousness leaks out of your lips. “I suppose I had learned just a few things…”

“Mmh,” Geto nod nonchalantly, eyes drawing back to the papers. “Well. Let’s start with the basics. Why exactly do you want to work here?” 

Geto already feels the cliche comments erupting. Had the person in front of him say at least one of them, he was ready to insert the papers he was holding into the nearby shredder. Or maybe out the window this time, he wonders—something nice for a change.

“I was inspired by your work.” 

“It’s been my dream to work at Kaizen.”

“Fashion is my absolute passion.”

“I want to—”

“I’m just in need of a job, really,” you say lifelessly. 

He goes to raise his head slowly from the packet and turns to you slowly. Geto doesn’t say anything, but his facial expressions indicate a blend of confusion and intrigue. A slithering tongue darts out to slick his lips, indicating you’ve piqued his interest. “Well, obviously. But why this job specifically? What about it stood out to you?”

You clear your throat. “I had learned recently that Kaizen is a rather prestigious mag—”

“‘Recently’?” Geto repeats quietly. “You hadn’t heard of us before?” 

Lips thinning, you shake your head slightly. His eyes go narrow again to your dread, serpent-like. “My specialty is more in newspapers rather than magazines, I-I’m not too knowledgeable in that area.”

Geto goes quiet and the silence makes the air go thick. It’s then that familiar glint sparkles in his sullen eyes when they go to examine your choice of clothing—it confirms Ino was truly right in the end, as he lets out a smile-less chuckle that doesn’t do much to ease your brain. 

“Continue,” Geto gestures and takes off his glasses to look at you, or you suppose your outfit, more properly. He folds his hands and places his chin on top of them. “You said you only learned about us not too long ago?”

“Yes, and I realized that perhaps working here for a while would, at least I hope, grant me access to other media houses,” you explain. It’s only then you realize that your declaration sounds absolutely ludicrous and almost disrespectful to the editor-in-chief of the most iconic fashion magazine in the nation. “Connections are quite powerful in this day and age, haha…”

“I suppose,” Geto mumbles with not much interest in your poor humor. “What about me? I do hate bragging but surely, you know about my name or at least my fashion line?”

Your hesitant countenance and silence tells Geto all he needs to know. He thinks that it’s almost some sort of marvel that no one has heard of him or his works before.

He sighs. “Do you have any experience working in any fashion-related activities at least?”

“Well, I once worked in a department store for a few months back in high school,” you say thoughtfully (and ignorantly).

Geto gives you a blank look. His blinks are apathetically slow.

“Um,” you clear your throat again and shake your head, timid. “N-no…”

“Then tell me,” he continues smoothly. “Why exactly should I hire you? You obviously have no taste in fashion and you hadn’t even heard of my name, let alone my magazine, until recently. What is there within that makes you want to work here other than you just… what was it that you said?” He air-quotes mockingly, “‘needing a job?’”

Your throat runs dry and limbs go stiff. A heat rockets to your face when you seemingly can’t get any words out to excuse yourself, much too caught up in the same of your ignorance towards Geto’s profession. And that’s all the response he needs to make his decision. 

His hand takes the packet again and to your horror that you fight to keep in, inserts it into the paper shredder. The groan of it rumbles through the room agonizingly and you realize that Ino is going to have the time of your life planning your doomsday. 

Geto gives you the mercy of breaking the thick silence first. “You may go.” 

With a swift flick of his wrist, Geto dismisses you with a slight edge to his murmuring as he puts back on his glasses to examine the morning newspaper to not waste any more incessant time in the day. 

You don’t even attempt to fight back with any poor excuses. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, the sting of them frustrating you to your wits end. Instead, you gather the last of your resolve and bid him through a strained throat good day and make your leave, humiliation and disappointment trailing not too far behind. 

You hope that Ino will give a nice eulogy, at least.

Out of all the miracles that await you in life, you do not expect the one that comes in the form of an early morning phone call that wakes you at the ass-crack of dawn. When you pick it up with sleep still very much embedded in your eyes, it dissipates in the instant you hear Manami’s voice. It’s only then that it hits you why on earth she was calling so early and why she was demanding to know your whereabouts, claiming you were going to be late on your first day of work. 

You think it’s some sort of cruel joke maneuvered by Ino, especially with how his comforts from last night were mixed with taunts. But when Manami’s voice finally registers in your brain, by some sort of miracle or stroke of luck, you have gotten the job as Geto Suguru’s junior assistant. 

You don’t know how, but you don’t waste any time questioning how on earth you landed in such a position because you leap out of bed at 7:23 a.m. and manage to do your morning routine in the matter of what you think is a record-breaking fifteen minutes. Your ruckus manages to wake up deep-sleeping Ino, who, when you excitedly tell him to postpone your funeral, gives a groggy thumbs up before drooling back into his pillow. It’s 7:38 a.m. when you shove on your shabby coat and you realize you only have a mere twenty-two minutes left until you have to officially clock in for work. 

At 7:40, you’re out the door and sprinting to the located coffee shop that thankfully wasn’t too far from where you lived.

At 7:47, you’re at the designated cafe whilst attempting to swim through the crowds of morning bustlers to pick up Geto’s coffee.

7:50, you’re sticking your hand out waving desperately for a taxi and tip extra to make the driver speed through as you attempt to make sure the coffees don’t spill out of their containers.

7:58, you arrive at the building and just barely make it into the narrow gap of a tight-fitting elevator, earning stares from the others from your rather… frazzled appearance.

At 8:02 a.m., you dash out the elevator and officially clock in for your first day at work at Kaizen Magazine amidst a birdnest of hair, clothes that were plucked out of your hamper, and what you pray to the heavens above are hefty layers of deodorant and perfume since you were given no time to shower.

When Geto comes in that day, all suave and composed, he takes one good look at you before sighing and focusing his attention to the more refined Manami and lets her take the gears for the day. The only attention he gives you that morning is the rough toss of his heavy coat—a cashmere pearl peacoat today—flung at your arms that nearly makes you tumble from its weight.

You quickly learn that working for Geto requires high demand and maintenance, as he is not one to skip over any details in his day. Not even three hours in your first day, you already have to plan out his future meetings, reschedule one with a rather feisty and insistent client, edit a forest of emails, finishing by dashing out five blocks on foot to the two michelin star restaurant to retrieve Geto’s weekly steak for lunch. Had this been your old corporate job, you only would’ve gotten half the tasks you had completed by the end of the usual eight hours, but you realized early on that you had barely scratched the surface of your future in Kaizen.

You think that after plating his steak with the shakiest of hands, you finally have time to relax during lunch time when you see the small hand of the clock finally hit 12:00 p.m. , especially since you and him were left alone in his part of the office together. But the moment that Geto saunters into the office again, he tends to you once again with a final task by himself.

“(Y/N),” he calls from the office, the scrape of his fork against ceramic cluttering your ears agonizingly. 

You fight the urge to cringe from the sound as you scurry to the doorframe, hands stiffly intertwined together. “Yes, Mr. Geto?”

“No need for such formalities,” he remarks with the dab of a napkin to his lips. “They make me feel old, and I’m surely not much older than you are…” you think that’s the longest he’s spoken to you since the day had started. “Did Leibovitz confirm?”

Blinking, you tilt your head ignorantly. “D-did who confirm?”

He pauses and does that taunting slow rise of his eyes from his steak to you. “Leibovitz. Did she confirm?”

Silence fills the office, much like the silence that drowned you back at the interview. He clicks his tongue and dismisses you with a disappointed shake of his head. “Just go on your lunch,” he mutters, sighing.

Manami, the savior that she is, is called into the office after her break and is asked the same task and you watch with humiliation whilst packing your things to go on your lunch as she picks up the telephone and speaks to someone over the line before confirming to Geto that, “I’ve got Annie!”

“He hates me, Taku!” you cry out whilst flopping onto the dinner table. It’s ten in the evening and you’ve just come home after what was supposed to be an 8-5 shift. You suppose you should be used to this already after two months of working for the Lucifer donned ritually in white in the building, but you don’t know how much your sanity (and body) can take. 

Normally, Geto is usually cold to those who he wasn’t familiar with, but you think that his distaste for you sours everyday. You notice that he’s beginning to pile you with the more urgent and busier duties and that he often stares you down more menacingly in the morning with those piercing purple eyes of his, like you were gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. You thought it was just him being normal Geto Suguru, the man with the expectations higher than the clouds, and that you just were still adjusting to such a high-intensity environment, but it was today that your world came crumbling down when you overheard him muttering to his associates about you, tone icier than ever.

You were on the other side of the door, a fist going to rap on the glass with the other holding his afternoon coffee pick-me-up when you heard it.

“... can’t even do the most miniscule things right,” Geto had groaned. “I ask if Lanvin’s models are all good to go for next Thursday’s shoot and somehow, they have the nerve to ask ‘How do you spell Lanvin’? For fuck’s sake, I can feel my goddamn conscious just wither away by the second.”

You hadn’t heard Geto swear since you had started working there, but something about his venomous tone enunciating such words had made your blood run cold from the other side of the door. Not having the courage to face him after that, you left his coffee on Manami’s desk for her to tend to with a post-it note saying a sorry excuse for yourself before letting your eyes sob frustratingly in the bathroom, isolated from others.

The last time you had cried that hard was way back in childhood, where you had broken your arm from falling down a tree branch. But you think that Geto’s words had twisted through your skin and bone much harsher than that pain ever will. 

“It’s a miracle how I haven’t been fired yet… I don’t even know why he hired me!” you wail.

Ino sighs from across the dinner table and you can’t tell if it’s a sigh of pity or a sigh of criticism. You learn that it’s both when he rolls his eyes at you whilst simultaneously pushing a plate of much needed food towards you. 

“First off, you need to eat,” he presses, staring at your gaunt features. “The way your face is swallowing is making me feel like I’m living’ with a ghost. You’ve lost some weight, I’ve noticed.”

Awareingly, you touch your cheekbones and realize he’s right, for you feel the small disc of sharpness from them prick your fingertips. They’ve never been so cavern before. You suppose it’s because of the lack of proper meal time between your days and how you often eat small and very late dinners back at home, truly not enough needed fuel for you.

“Secondly,” Ino chews his tongue, wondering if he should really say what he’s about to say because of your current disposition but goes through with it anyway. He might as well rip the bandaid off now to let more time for the wound to heal. “You won’t like what I’m ‘bout to say, but you need to up your game. Severely.”

An aching body rises up from the table. You go to stare at Ino through glazed eyes and a pouty lip, asking him what he meant.

“Ah nope! Don’t give me that face and don’t play coy with me,” he hisses, looking away to not give in to your helpless puppy eyes. He can’t—he shouldn’t give you the easy way out and just say to quit—not when you’ve been earning so much bank that rent isn’t a problem for either of you anymore. He wonders, though, for a moment if so much money is worth your rationality.

He drags a hand down his face before placing his chin on it, examining your haggard appearance. “What I mean is that you need to see through Geto’s eyes. See what he sees when he looks at you. Tell me, if you had an assistant that showed up wearing things that looked like they were plucked from the clearance bin at a thrift store and didn’t show any respect for your brand, which just so happens to be a fashion magazine out of all things…” Ino eyes you with a raised brow. “You startin’ to follow me?”

Your fingers fiddle with each other. “... sorta.”

“Now listen,” he raises his hands up lazily in surrender. “I already know what you’re ‘bout to say about me not knowing’ how to dress in shit other than black and more black, but even I know that you should put in more effort into your appearance. That’s the first step.”

“But I have—!” you exclaim helplessly, “I-I swear, I’ve been trying to… but it’s not my fault that it isn’t up to his standards.”

Your roommate groans and rubs his forehead, not really knowing what else to do for your situation until an idea pops in his head. “Free up your weekend,” he demands with a sly grin that makes you a little uneasy. “I’m no fashion connoisseur, but you know who is?”

“And remember, we never touch anything with chevron on it, especially in today’s fashion world,” Yuki chimes as she slaps on a navy blue pageboy cap on your head and she prances about your bedroom that’s been littered with spare clothes from her very own closet she graciously gifted to you for the past weekend. “I’m so utterly relieved that the trend has dug its own grave.”

The past weekend had been filled with endless shopping trips and you shuffling in and out of clothes every minute, practicing how to pair items and colors together by Yuki’s teachings. Of course you should’ve known that Ino was going to contact the one person that he was within reach that was essentially a walking encyclopedia when it came to fashion. You’ve met Tsukumo Yuki before, found her to be quite delightful even, but you never anticipated she would be this giddy, especially about clothes of all things.

And she used her brain to good use for not only clothes, but the entirety of yourself. You never knew how much just a simple haircut could do your face along with small hints of makeup to emphasize the best parts of it. Dared not your hands go to a lash curler, but here you are now, making sure your powder compact and lipstick for the day was in your bag before you went out. 

“Uh, I don’t think I ever mentioned this before yet, but thank you for helping my wardrobe out, it really means a lot,” you say just before she slides on a pair of gold bangles on your wrist. “Are you sure you wanna give these clothes to me? I’m okay with just borrowing them.” 

“Nonsense, babe,” she wavers off before shuffling through your now-hearty closet, a closet that’s now bursting with many clothes given by her. “I needed space in my closet anyway, so take as much as you need.”

So (Y/N)’s closet is basically her trash can, a particular shaggy brunette thinks with a roll of his eyes. Ino fiddles with the piece of toast in his mouth as he leans on the doorway, watching as Yuki essentially treats you like her very own Barbie doll at such an odd morning hour. 

“(Y/N)’s not a doll, Yuki,” Ino lazily calls aloud through a tired yawn. “You better get ‘em out the door soon or else they’ll get late for work. Especially need that money since the landlord’s been on our ass about increasing our rent…” he mutters, sniffing. “Damn bastard.”

She snaps at Ino to be quiet and let her work before she shuffles on a regal blue overcoat over your shoulders that completes your look. When you look at yourself finally in the mirror, you almost think there’s a stranger in your house from the way you look so dignified compared to the you just three days ago. It’s a simple outfit with not much layering, but it’s still enough to ooze charisma and elegance to wandering eyes. You’re adorned in a white weaved sweater with flared, light-wash jeans and white boots to match. Over the outfit lies the coat that drapes almost like a king’s mantle behind you and the pageboy cap as your crown.

Yuki creeps up behind you, her manicured hands on your shoulders affirmingly. “How’re you feeling, hun?” she asks quietly as she shares the same sight with you in the mirror. “Don’t you look wonderful?”

You know that it was all her work, it was all her creativity that made you into the artwork that you are now, so breathlessly laugh with a smile on your painted lips and thank her quietly once more before whispering, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

Her eyes study you for another minute, going to stare at the glasses still atop your face. Yes, they were new and much more modern considering she quite literally called your old pair atrocious, snapped them in half, and tossed them over her shoulder, but she was still quite dissatisfied when you told her about your hesitance about using contacts. “Are you sure you don’t want to give contacts another chance?” she sighs. 

You shake your head with a small smile, “I’ll feel completely naked without them,” you murmur, “Besides, I think they actually compliment this look, if I’m being honest.”

Her lips stretch out into a grin, too absorbed in her fashion education finally being used. 

“Well then!” she begins to drag you by the sleeve out your room. “We wouldn’t want you to be late then for your first day as the new you, right? Let’s get you a cab!”

Somehow, you think you really are at your first day at work again from the way you feel that same fluttering in your stomach and from how the people you’ve once grown accustomed to seeing in the early mornings are not merely passing you with mundane nods of their heads but instead, greeting you with wide-eyed gawks and open-mouthed smiles. Some of them, a few who you knew but never spoke a word to, even do a double take and compliment you aloud on the new look. Even the cute barista in the lobby that never bothered to spell your name right at last did after finally taking a good look at the holder of the card.

When you exit out of the elevator, Manami nearly drops the pile of magazines she’s holding when she spots a refined and refreshed you. You offer a bright smile to her and you watch as her gasp slowly forms into an affirmative grin when you round your desk.

She laughs softly. “And who might you be?” she asks with a tease in her voice. “‘Cause last time I checked, that’s my coworker (Y/N)’s desk.”

“I murdered them,” you shrug nonchalantly, earning another chuckle from her. You take it as a good sign, great even, considering up until now, Manami had been rather stoic and a little indifferent towards you because of your amateurism; but now, you suppose that ditching that Plain Jane from just two days ago is finally beginning to do you good by finally grounding a proper relationship with her. “Shame, isn’t it? Poor thing.”

“Truly,” she nods. Her eyes trail further down until they spot something that makes her gasp. “Don’t tell me those are—”

“—the new calfskin gold studded Louboutin boots?” you finish for her. You flex your ankle and show off the ravishing red bottoms of your shoes. “Oh yeah.”

Manami squeals in excitement and rushes over to your desk, begging to take a look at them. “How on earth did you manage to get your hands on these?! I’ve been looking for them fo—”

The elevator dings again but with a tone that makes you and Manami flinch. Both of you stiffen and straighten out your posture, falling into a thick silence when out comes Geto traipsing out like he usually did—his aura being nothing less than dominating. You and Manami chime out in sync a good morning to him as he saunters towards his office as he begins to shuffle off his coat as usual to toss to you until he looks up and catches you in his field of vision.

He stops all of a sudden with his eyes dancing about your figure, a stark contrast to the rest of his paralyzed body. Geto’s lips thin all of a sudden, and so do his eyes when they scan your outfit. He takes in a sharp breath and opens his mouth to say something to you, yet nothing comes out, even as your eyes glisten with anticipation.

It merely instead zips itself close and he finally whisks himself into his office, coat still on and briefcase still in hand, and slams the door shut. 

But not without glancing at you one last time.

Much has changed in the past month for the better.

Yuki was a godsend—she had been your guardian angel, your fairy godmother of sorts—because you swore your career life had taken a complete 180° the moment your closet was revamped. Ever since that makeover, you had felt so much more confident in your actions, so much lighter on your feet. The price of your efforts was beginning to pay off as well, as Geto began to slowly thaw his icier sense of self when you began to actually put effort into your appearance. His thrusts of his coat towards you began to become less aggressive, was significantly more lenient when it came to more of the impossible tasks, and had at one time actually muttered a ‘good morning’ to you and Manami after months of greeting with silence and judgemental glances.

She’d occasionally check up on you every once in a while, usually to offer new clothes that she didn’t want anymore. And by offer, it actually just meant packing them in a box from her place to yours with a post-it that’d usually read “With love, YT ❤” in neat cursive. Along with forming a close bond with Yuki, your relationship with Manami improved significantly, especially when you gave her those white Louboutins she was eyeing. She often invited you to lunch with her other friends, Larue and Remi. 

The iconic John Galliano once said that, “The joy of dressing is an art.” A month ago, you would’ve never believed what you would think is a rather tacky statement, but now, you can truly see it to believe it. It never occurred to you to actually look at your surroundings closely, but you often would sometimes take a few seconds out of your day to admire the many colors and materials that would adorn your coworkers. Whether it be admiration for their sense of style or mild jealousy over luxurious pieces, you were finally understanding what makes fashion, fashion.

And your epiphany was awarded today with the task that you thought would never come into the light of your days working for Geto—being tasked with dropping off The Book.

The Book was a collection of pieces that were needed for the upcoming edition of the magazine, regarding it as being the most important item in the entire company. It was a duty that usually Manami tended to, but she hypothesized that you managed to finally get on Geto’s good side after a while and congratulated you. Manami spoke to you briefly about how trivial The Book was to both Geto and Kaizen. She told you about how you must guard it and Geto’s key to his penthouse with your life, and that you were to remain absolutely invisible to him if he was in the apartment. Manami told you because it was usually the hour he needed most concentration—it was during the later hours of the day that he usually mended last minute edits to the edition or he was working on his latest fashion collection since he was only able to work on it during the weekends as Kaizen took too much of his time.

Manami told you he would most likely be found on the second floor of his penthouse, and you were to remain on the first floor at all costs. 

“The editors will finish The Book around 10:30 or 11:00 at night, wait in the office until then. Then, drop the book off at his penthouse at no later than 11:30 with his dry cleaning, too.”

Her words echo in your mind as you tiptoe out of the cab and look up to see a gleaming, glamorous building sitting in the heart of the city. It’s one you’ve passed a plenty of times—hell, you pass it on your way to work—but it never occurred to you that it’d be this antique white, Parisian-styled building that would be the abode of your boss. 

“Take the elevator to the top floor and enter his apartment. Do not call out his name, don’t wander around, don’t even make a single sound. You are nothing more than a ghost when you step foot into his house.”

The only doors that are on the very top floor of the apartment complex are two large metal doors that sit before you. You enter the key into the keyhole and push them open with controlled force, closing them as quietly as possible with Manami’s whispers still floating about your head. You knew that Geto was certainly a man of luxury, but to see that wealth exempt in a form other than fashion was a sight that you weren’t sure if your eyes deserved to feast on. Sculptures and paintings decorated the foyer and hallway, adding occasional splashes of color to the ivory-adorned apartment. After hanging the dry cleaning in the designated coat closet, the first room you enter - and perhaps the only one you’ll ever be in - is the said living room with the glass coffee table sitting in the center of it.

“Place The Book on the coffee table in the living room. That’s it. Do not toddle any longer in his house and get out immediately. Don’t let curiosity get the better of you and just simply go afterwards. It’s for your own good.”

But oh, how curiosity is just a little devil of temptation that sits far too easily on your shoulder. A house holds the most of a person, and Geto is just an all too mysterious enigma for you not to at least dip your toe in. The doors at the end of the hallway are waiting for you, but so are the picture frames that sit atop the TV stand. You suppose… maybe another minute wouldn’t hurt.

Your feet carry you slowly to the stand and you crouch, adjusting your glasses to get a better look at the pictures. There’s only two of them—six by fours, both in oak brown frames. The first one is a picture of a smiling young girl with short chestnut hair sporting a smile with a cigarette between her teeth. Beside her are two boys taller than her, both making similar faces at the camera. One of them, the one that’s a little taller with silvery snow hair and opaque black sunglasses, throwing a forced, all-too wide grin that almost looks maniacal. It doesn’t require much brain power to know the other figure in the photo is a younger Geto Suguru, his hair shorter in a tight bun with a rare, but soft grin on his face, his gaze affectionate to the others.

The other picture is of the same two boys arm in arm with each other. Both of them are grinning now, with the white haired boy still smiling a little more largely than the other. It doesn’t take long for you to assume who the other boy was considering that the shade of purple sheathing his twinkling eyes is unique to only one individual in your life. 

Best friends, you suggest in your mind as you study the pictures a little longer than needed. A minute, you thought, wouldn’t do much harm, but how utterly wrong your thoughts prove when you suddenly hear the slam of a door from the floor above. The crash of it makes you yelp and breaks you out of your trance from the pictures and your gaze suddenly snaps to the open stairs above you, as well as two voices echoing aloud. 

“Y-you can’t—” an unknown voice wheezes. “I’ve been your muse for years. You possibly can’t just abandon me out of nowhere…”

“You say that as if I’m not doing that right now,” a familiar one replies back boredly. It’s Geto, and his voice makes your nerves electrify in fear because it’s in that moment that you remember that you can’t get caught inside of his house. “This is the last time I’m telling you, Shigemo. Get out.”

The man that you assume is Shigemo heaves heavy breaths. “You need me,” he declares.

“Needed. Past tense,” Geto corrects as he almost forces Shigemo down the stairs with an invisible force surrounding him. You can see their figures above you, Shigemo slowly stepping backwards with each step Geto takes forward. “You’ve done me well these few years, I admit, and I do thank you for that. But I suppose your expiration date has finally come.”

“I’m not a food,” Shigemo snivels. “I’m a person. Most importantly. I’m the reason your fashion line flourished, I was the inspiration for almost all your works. We’re essentially a team.”

They’re towards the end of the staircase, towards where you are still present in plain sight. Your eyes scatter about a place to hide in the meantime, but there are seemingly no places to hide that would hide you well without the notice of Geto’s eyes.

“A team?” Geto barks out a sarcastic laugh, one that makes shivers run down your spine from both the rarity of the sound and how utterly intimidating it is. “I work alone and I always have. There is no point on relying on anyone of any kind when my independence obviously pays off.”

“Who will you have then?” Shigemo retaliates with a whimper in his voice. “You know that I’m the only one that will tolerate you. It’s not like you can go crawling to Goj—“

“Finish that sentence and see what happens,” Geto hisses, causing the other man to fall into a forced silence.

Your eyes finally land on the small space between the fireplace and a pillar. It’s a space large enough for you to fill and efficient enough to hide you from sight. Unsticking your feet from the ground, you make a run for the small space, only for you to forget about the obstacle that was the ottoman sitting spitefully on the floor.

The thud that comes from your body almost rivals the volume of the door slamming open moments earlier and just like the door, it attracts unneeded attention. Geto and Shigemo stop their bickering for a moment to search for the cause of the sound, only to see you humiliatingly face first on the floor. Geto narrows his eyes at the sight of you, an unwanted visitor in his home. 

A pained groan slips from your lips accidentally. You silently curse yourself for not taking the time to properly break into the tantalizing loafers Yuki bought you the day prior and wince at the pain blooming from your knees and chest. When you finally get up, you can’t help but notice that everything around you seems rather… hazy.

“Who is that…” Shigemo mutters.

Geto bites back a sigh and instead, pinches the bridge of his nose. He supposes that despite your improved mannerisms, your clumsiness still has yet to dissipate. Annoyed, he grunts out, “One of my new assistants.”

Shaking his head, Geto decides to deal with you later. His home is already suffocated with one individual, he doesn’t need another clogging the atmosphere up. He returns his attention back to Shigemo. “I thought I told you to leave,” he states, shoving his bag towards him.

Shigemo’s face paints a horrified expression once again. “Geto, please rethink this,” Shigemo pleads. 

He lets out a chain of pleads and excuses for himself as Geto essentially escorts him out with just walking towards him, his face still icy. Shigemo ends up on the other side of the door to his penthouse and it’s there where his patheticness exudes the most—he falls on his hands and knees like a beggar, claiming he’d do anything and everything just to be by his side. 

But his voice is suddenly cut short when Geto finally slams the door in his face, the thickness of them guarding him from Shigemo’s whines. He lets out another sigh and locks up the door securely before dealing with the other parasite in his house.

“I don’t think dropping off a book should take longer than thirty seconds,” Geto drawls as he saunters towards the living room, where you’re still on all fours on the floor, your hands tapping around. “So tell me, why are you still here?”

At the sound of his sharp tone, you freeze. You’re sure you looked utterly stupid and a mess right now, considering that you had just lost a fight to an ottoman out of all things, but you couldn’t let Geto see you in such a state. It didn’t take you long to realize that the reason why everything around you looked so blurry was because of your now-missing glasses that you attempted to look around for. But you pulled a Velma, and just like her, you can’t see without your glasses.

Everyone thinks it’s an exaggeration when you state that you felt utterly naked without them, but you truly did. You’ve been wearing glasses ever since childhood and you really didn’t appreciate the looks you had gotten when you were younger when at times you’d take them off. Some complained that your eyes were too small, too big—others mentioned you looked “off” and “weird” without them. Either way, comments from the other children stuck with you like scars, and ever since then, you refused to be seen without them. 

“I a-apologize,” you stutter, shuffling your body to hide behind the recliner so Geto wouldn’t see how much of a clutter you are. You’ve humiliated yourself too much already in the office and the last thing you truly need is for you to get fired merely because your curiosity got the better of you. “I was about to head out and th-then I heard your voice from upstairs and—”

Your words fall deaf on Geto’s ears. He lets out another groan while stretching the aching muscles in his neck as he closes in on your disorderedness. A hand goes to shield your face—you don’t want him to see the bareness of your face, especially since you didn’t bother wearing makeup today. You can’t even bear the thought of him looking at it. In a rushed state, you wander around for your glasses with your head tucked in, using the remnants of your hair to curtain your face.

A jumble of excuses tumble out of your quivering lip, but Geto is too preoccupied with the gleam of something catching his eye. Laying flat on the floor are a pair of glasses that doesn’t take Geto long to presume who they belong to. He plucks them from the ground and examines them for a brief moment before holding them above you. 

“I assume these are yours,” he asserts with a cocked brow.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice directly right above you and through your foggy field of vision is the seraphic figure of Geto holding what seems to be your glasses. Lips escaping a relieved gasp, you hurriedly scramble to your feet. Your eyes are too poor to see it properly, but Geto also shares surprise, but for an entirely different reason.

He doesn’t give you the sanity that is your glasses right away, because he’s much too preoccupied studying your face. It’s so… fresh. Your glasses were hiding such a view, like curtains to a window that unveiled the utmost rare and breathtaking sights. The way your eyes are wide open, pupils blown with a touch of singularity makes him even more intrigued because of how they’re uniquely placed onto your face along with the rest of your features. Your lips, plump with a natural sheen to them—your cheekbones, perfectly rounded. The slope of your nose fell just right. Geto studies it like an artist to a blank canvas, devoid of anything yet holding just the perfect amount of space—wanting, waiting to be filled with anything and everything.

When his eyes stare at you in what seems to be bewilderment, you swallow thickly and look away. But you can only glance at your surroundings for less than a second before Geto takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your face toward him again. It’s then that you realize that Geto isn’t staring at you, but your face as a whole. His eyes flick with small movements, dancing about as they go from eyebrow to lips, freckle to lash, examining each and every single particle that your face has to offer.

You feel a heat creep onto your cheeks. You’re not sure whether it’s because of the closeness you and him share or the fact that you can’t detect his opinions on the one thing you’ve been disclosed about for years, but either way, you feel weak in the knees; it only worsens when Geto’s thumb brushes over the entirety of your bottom lip, feeling the plushness of it on his the pad of his finger.

“Has your face always been this open…?” he murmurs softly as he studies the various angles of your face. 

You aren’t sure whether it’s a compliment or insult, either or neither. Geto’s tone always had a sort of bleakness to it, but in this very moment, you truly can’t tell what he’s thinking. 

“My glasses…” is all you manage to squeak out, fighting the urge to squirm in his grasp. Another gulp goes down your dry throat when Geto’s face contorts to an irritated confusion before he realizes his other hand holds the one thing dear to your heart. 

“Oh,” he mutters and hands them back to you. His opposing hand finally goes to release your face. “Right.”

Shaking hands go to put them back onto your face again. Sighing internally of relief of your now crystal-clear surroundings, you dust yourself off with your head once more, tucked into your chest. 

“I’m so sorry for this,” you whisper. The heat on your face has now spread to the entirety of your body, your nerves alight with the rush of adrenaline. “I-I’ll make sure this never happens again… good night.”

With that, you scurry yourself out before Geto has the chance to falter. All words to urge you to stay to either scold you or excuse you evaporate on his tongue. He can only watch in a strange silence as your figure rushes down the hall and out the doors, the click of them ringing out in his penthouse.

After moments of self-paralysis, an unknown feeling boils inside the pit of Geto’s stomach. He thinks he’s seen your face before with the familiarity of it unsettling him. The ghost of your face prances about in his mind as he slowly climbs the stairs to his sewing room, ignoring the shattered wine glass on the floor thrown by Shigemo. He instead, refills his own glass again with the nearby bottle of merlot wine and savoring the thickness of it running down his dry throat, embellishing in its warmth.

A single, large window faces the busy nighttime street and Geto walks and stills near it, watching carefully as the speck of your figure on the street below calls for a cab. He eyes how you turn towards the building one more time, doing your usual adjustment of your glasses (it’s a habit you often do in times of nervousness, he’s picked up) before you shuffle yourself into a cab that speeds off into the night.

Geto lets out an annoyed click of his tongue. Something about your face seems haunting and he doesn’t enjoy it. The last thing that he needed for today was even more plaguing thoughts in his head after the loss of his muse not even just ten minutes ago, but now with your face staining the back of his head, his jaw grits in irritation. In a poor attempt to take his mind off the excursion of today and the future, he shuffles about his many sketchbooks to look for any designs he could pluck out for his latest collection. 

It’s an hour in, two glasses of wine later, and somehow, he still hasn’t found a single piece to begin working on that fits into his theme. Miraculously, through the vast array of what is thought to be thousands of sketches, Geto hasn’t found one that stood out to him until he gets to the last sketchbook. It’s an early one—he thinks it dates back to his early college days, when he was just beginning to peek into the world of fashion. A pang of nostalgia hits him all of a sudden when he flips to a specific page that was the start of his history.

It’s the very design that had the attention of many designers. The sketch featured a gold and red embellished outfit, a sheen of glittering flickers adorning it. The shirt features a mosaic of gold and small flecks of color here and there, imitating the many church mosaics he’d often admired as a child. The skirt and collar of the shirt were the same shade of blood red, crimson gems bespeckling them. 

It’s not the outfit, however, that makes his eyes harden. Why would it? He’s seen it many times before. It’s been brought up over and over again—in interviews, in magazines. It’s one of the staples that made Geto the pillar that he is. He knows every detail of it, much like his other designs, so it isn’t the design of the outfit that made him appalled. It’s instead, the person that’s wearing it. 

Because somehow, the eerie sketch of the model’s face that he had drawn years ago…

… somehow replicates your own face perfectly.

a/n: first jjk fic in forever! wowie it's been much too long... also if u need a refresher on who shigemo is, he's the guy with the ponytail that nanami pulled kekeke

10.2k is hefty i know but i couldn't help myself my bad lolol T_T currently just a test run of what i hope to be is a series that some may be interested in because clearly this barely scratches the surface of what i want to embed haha so please let me know how you like it so far :))

continuing, i hope you enjoyed and thank you for taking time out of your day to enjoy my craft, whether it be your first time or your hundredth! once more, likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and are always appreciated (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!!

[borathae]

"Jungkook loves having a break from work because it means that he can make you breakfast in the morning and welcome you home with dinner."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: Jungkook being a cutie, cozy mornings, casual use of Bunny & Mommy as non-kinky petnames, kisses, flirting because they're in love!

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: this was planned for january but we all need fluff more than smut rn so i decided to switch up my schedule a little. i hope this can cheer you guys up.

You wake up in darkness like most mornings because you and your husband prefer to have the electric blinds down. And like most mornings, the first thing you do is look for him in the darkness by swiping your hand over the sheets. However, unlike most mornings, you can’t locate him today. He must have gotten up already, which was weird considering he had the day off today. 

Because of one of his countless work trips, he has this week off. He gave himself that rule. The longer the work trip was and the higher the stress level, the longer he'll relax at home as balance. He wasn’t home for a month this time around, so for one week you will have him playing house husband. 

Jungkook shouldn’t be out of bed yet. It was his second day home and he should be getting his well-deserved sleep. You have to get up for university, but Jungkook should still be snoozing. You have to see what could be so important that he is already out of bed.

You open the blinds with a click of the button you have next to your bedside lamp and use the growing light to get out of bed. You stretch your arms above your head, yawning loudly to get the oxygen flowing. Then you make your way to the bathroom for the mandatory post wake up pee. Once relieved and equipped with a glass of fresh water to drink on the way, you make your way to the living area in hopes of locating Jungkook. 

The faint sound of music calls you to the kitchen. Soon the smell of breakfast tickles your nose. So that's where he went off to. He is cooking breakfast. 

You smile once you lay eyes on him. He is turned to you as he is using the kitchen island counter to chop kimchi. He is wrapped in a dark blue kimono robe and a black apron. The long sleeves of the kimono he fixed according to Japanese traditions, making it so that they wouldn’t get in the way as he cooks. 

He is singing to the song on the radio, lifting his eyes as they catch your movements.

His face lights up.

“Good morning”, he says and keeps gazing at you as you make your way to him.

“Good morning”, you increase your steps, needing to be with him, “why are you up already? It’s so early.”

Jungkook checks the time, “I didn’t feel tired anymore. I’ve been up since five thirty.” 

“Why? Bunny, today’s your free day”, you whine, setting the empty glass aside.

“I’m seriously fine. I think jetlag’s still doing it to me. I’m making breakfast.”

“I know, it already smells amazing”, you say and wrap your arms around his waist. 

He puts the knife down and turns in your hold, lifting his arms so you could snuggle into his chest. He closes his arms around you, swaying from side to side as your bodies naturally move to the music. 

He closes his eyes and rests his cheek against your head. 

“You should be in bed snoozing”, you mumble into him.

“I’m okay”, he says in a chuckle, “I feel really rested.”

“Mhm okay fine I believe you”, you give up and squeeze him gently, “my bunny. Shit, I missed you.”

“I missed you too”, he says and squeezes you back, “so much.”

“I missed you more. You know?” 

Jungkook laughs, “that’s impossible because I missed you so much that nobody could ever top it.”

You chuckle, “wow that’s a lot.”

“Mh-hm it’s a lot.”

You lift your head, grinning up at him. He retorts it, scrunching his nose. 

“You’re a stupid noodle.”

“Heh.”

“What are you making?” 

“Steamed salmon in a teriyaki glaze, multigrain rice, kimchi and miso soup.”

“That literally sounds like heaven, holy fuck.” 

“And I’m making jujube tea with ginger because it’s getting chilly.” 

“You’re seriously amazing. I was so down to eat soggy cereal today and now you’re treating me to such a royal breakfast.”

He giggles, “yeah, I hope it’ll taste yummy. I made the glaze myself and, I don’t know, I think I used too much ginger.” 

“I bet it’ll be amazing.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

The air fryer beeps, calling Jungkook’s attention.

“Oh! Food’s ready! Sit down Mommy, I’ll serve it to you”, he says and wiggles out of the hug in excitement. He skips to the air fryer, humming to himself.

You do as you are told and sit down by the round dining table, watching him scramble to get the food plated. You are wiggling your toes in happiness. He is so cute. 

“You look so handsome in your kimono, Bunny”, you tell him.

“Thank you, Mommy”, he says, but otherwise stays rather unresponsive as he is fully concentrated on making the food look pretty. 

“It’s a shame that I gotta leave for classes today ‘cause I just wanna stare at you all day.” 

At that Jungkook lifts his eyes. He glances at you. Flusters. Looks away. Blushes. 

You chuckle fondly, grinning to yourself. Of course your words would fluster him. That was your goal after all.

“And then later if you let me, I’d unwrap you like a little treat.”

Jungkook glances at you again. He is so obviously shy from your words, but he doesn’t let it show at all.

“Food is, uhm, it’s done”, he says.

“You’re just gonna ignore me, mhm?” you tease with a smile.

“I don’t know what to say to that”, he confesses, making you chuckle 

“You’re so fucking cute.”

He serves the food on a bamboo tray, setting it down with a kiss to your cheek and his left hand petting the back of your head.

“Thank you, my love”, you say, leaning into the kiss.

“Mhm, you can start already. I’ll just get mine.” 

And as Jungkook hurries back to the kitchen, you scan your eyes over the food. It looks amazing. The salmon looks crispy in a dark glaze and the multigrain rice has a nice purple colour to it. The miso soup is steaming and the fresh kimchi from Jungkook’s mom is served in a small glass bowl.

“The food looks amazing”, you tell him.

“Yeah, dig in. Dig in”, he dismisses you as he is terribly busy with scooping rice into his bowl.

“I am”, you say and chuckle. He is so cute. 

You pick up the wooden spoon and scoop up the first bite of many. You try to make it equal parts rice and equal parts salmon, topping it off with a piece of kimchi.

Jungkook sits down on the chair next to yours, resting his chin on the back of his hands. He is watching you intently, showing off his teeth in a sweet bunny smile. 

You take the first bite. 

“And?” he instantly asks, leaning closer to you as he is waiting for the praise.

“Mh”, you let out and pull a face of pure culinary ecstasy, giving him two thumbs up as you chew deliciously. 

He giggles, “good?”

“S’amazing”, you mumble and take a bite of the miso soup, “mhhm, mhm hm mh”, you hum, continuously giving him thumbs up.

“Heh thank you”, he whispers and sways happily, “eat a lot, Mommy. I made it with all the love in the world.”

“I can taste it. It’s so yummy”, you say and swallow your bite. You put your hand at the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.

“Mhm”, Jungkook lets out, twisting the front of your shirt as his legs squeeze together under the table.

You break the kiss with a ruffle of his hair.

“Thank you so much for cooking”, you whisper and smile.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle, his lips curl into a giddy grin.

“My cutie”, you add and break away to continue eating. The food is too delicious not to put your entire attention on it.

Jungkook watches you take a bite and eat it happily, then he finally begins eating as well, doing so with a frown.

“Mhm yes, this is good food”, he comments and nods his head.

“Yeah, it really is”, you agree and for the next few moments, you and him are silent as you concentrate on eating.

The amazing thing about being married is being able to see eating time as what it is. Eating time. In society, eating with other people most often means forcing conversation for the sake of friendliness. Foods get cold from being neglected for talking, bites aren’t properly chewed for the sake of conversation and tastes aren’t properly enjoyed. Being married to your soulmate and comfort means that those forced conversations cease to exist. You already have the greatest bonding time eating and sharing cozy silence.  

By the time the food is almost all gone, the conversation naturally begins to seep into the silence again. You and he were able to enjoy the food and are now finally ready to talk. Oh, it is so nice to be married.

“Will you go to afternoon lectures as well?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, I have to. What she’s talking about right now is really important.”

“I see. Is it still about behavioural studies?” 

“Yeah.”

“Mmh nice. What you told me on the phone always sounded really interesting.”

“Yeah, it is. Mhm Bunny seriously, I can’t get over how everything is though. Like fuck college talk, your food’s amazing.” 

He scrunches his nose, “thank you, my love. I have another surprise for you too.”

“What do you mean? A surprise?”

“Mh-hm. Don’t make me say it yet. You know I suck at keeping surprises a secret”  he says and smiles his cutest bunny smile.

“Okay, but now you gotta tell me. What did you do?”

“No, I’m not telling you”, Jungkook says and gets up to flee to the kitchen. He giggles as he does, looking over his shoulder to check if you were watching him.

“Bunny”, you warn in a chuckle, getting up to chase him, “tell me.”

He is by the sink, loading the dishwasher and shaking his head.

“Tell me”, you say and tickle his sides.

Jungkook squeaks and writhes away, pressing his arms to his sides as best as possible.

“Mommy stop”, he whines between giggles.

“Tell me”, you insist, tickling his waist instead.

Jungkook turns and grabs your lower arm.

“You’re unfair”, he squeaks. 

You laugh, tickling him again just so you can get his reaction. Jungkook squeaks in laughter. He pulls his biggest move by tickling your sides in return.

“Ah!” you twitch away, “hey! Not fair.”

Jungkook snickers, “it’s what you get for being mean.”

You click your tongue, “you’re a little brat.” 

He grins, “and you’re almost running late.” 

You glance at the clock.

“Oh shit. Fuck, I gotta wash up”, you gasp and sprint off, “you stupid noodle you. You distracted me with your cute butt. Also, if I come downstairs and see you changed outta your robe so you could drive me, I’m punishing your ass. You’re staying home today”, you scold him as you run up the stairs, taking two at a time. 

Jungkook laughs. Seconds later, the upstairs bathroom falls closed.

Jungkook abandons the cleaning up for now in order to prepare your backpack for you. He would drive you to campus on other days, but you told him last night that you would take the bus today as you needed to swing by the library either way. Jungkook didn’t really want to argue with you about it so he just agreed to whatever you insisted on. 

But that doesn’t mean that he won’t make sure that you are leaving the house perfectly prepared. He fills your thermos cup with your favourite coffee, puts a water bottle into your backpack after making sure you have all the books and notes backed and he even slipped some little love notes between the pages you will read today. He hopes that you will love them. He is already so giddy at the thought of you discovering them.

You are stomping down the stairs again, putting on your earrings as you do.

“Have you seen my backpack? I'm going crazy. It’s not in my office.”

“It’s here, my love. You always forget it downstairs on Tuesdays because you come home so late”, Jungkook says, carrying it for you as you hurry to the coat closet. 

“Ah yeah. Fuck, did I get my books?”

“Everything you need is in the bag.”

“My notes?”

“Yes, those too.”

You scramble to get your shoes on. Jungkook in the meantime gets your coat so he could help you later.

“Shit, I didn’t get to make coffee.” 

“I did. Don’t worry”, he assures you.

“And water. I need water for later.”

“It’s in the bag.”

“A big-” 

“Yes, a big bottle.”

You halt in your hurried actions for a moment, looking at him in adoring disbelief. He is still holding your backpack and another bag in one hand, whilst offering you your favourite coat with the other. Your eyes flit back to the bag.

“What’s that?” 

“My surprise.” 

“Your surprise?” 

“First. Coat”, he says and helps you slip it on, “then backpack”, he helps you again, “now surprise”, he hands you the bag. 

You look into it. Your thermos of coffee is in there, a metal spoon and a pair of chopsticks wrapped in a paper towel as well, your favourite chocolate bar, a small package of salted pretzels, a tangerine, a banana and a metal bento box.

You look up to meet his shy gaze.

“You made me lunch?” you get out squeakily, pouting as your eyes fill with fond tears.

Jungkook nods his head, “it's something so yummy. I also packed you favourite snacks and some fruits for vitamins. But don’t open the bento until it’s time for lunch.”

“Bunny. Oh my god, you’re gonna make me cry. I love it so much.”

Jungkook wipes your tears away, smooches your forehead and then places his hands on your shoulders to lead you to the elevator. He calls it with a press of the button.

“No tears. You’re running late.”

You laugh, feeling your heart flutter. He is so fucking adorable.

The elevator dings and opens. He shoves you gently until you naturally walk on your own.

“How do you expect me to be normal after this? You’re the sweetest noodle ever”, you whine. 

“Thank me by thinking of me all day”, he says and giggles.

You turn. He is still in the penthouse while you’re in the elevator. One reach is all that separates you and him.

Jungkook lifts his hand to wave you goodbye. Just a few more seconds and the doors would close. It’s now or never. 

The doors begin closing.

“Good luck today, my love. See you late-eeek”, Jungkook squeals and stumbles into the elevator as you pull him inside by the collar of his robe.

You twirl him and press him against the wall, knocking a surprised gasp out of him.

The elevator moves.

“What are you doing? I’m in my robe. I don’t have my keycard with me. I don’t-”

“Take mine. You can open the door for me later”, you interrupt him.

“But. The robe.”

“Nobody will care. Wanna make use of the time”, you dismiss him and pull him into a kiss. 

Jungkook whimpers, grasping you instantly. His heart is racing, his knees are buckling. So here he is. In his robe, without clothes underneath, pinned against a cold wall as he is getting tongue kissed in an elevator. It’s not what he had hoped would happen if he made you lunch, but it’s definitely not the worst outcome.

[minkyungseokie]

My Birthday Boy | Oscar Piastri

synopsis; Y/n and Oscar spend his birthday together in her home country

warnings; none

note; not requested

note2; This is posted on the day that's considered the 6th from where I am. I also made the reader Japanese. You can pretend otherwise if you don't like

This is gonna be short. I just wanted to post a little something for his birthday.

Main Masterlist | Actor Masterlist | Oscar Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

Y/n woke up and slid out of bed as sneakily as she could without waking Oscar. It was quali day for the Suzuka GP, but it was also Oscar's 23rd birthday. She wanted to wake him up with something special since it was the first birthday they were spending together in her home country of Japan. She wanted to do so many things with him while they were in Japan from taking him to her favorite hidden spots to possibly meeting her family.

The first thing she was going to do was make him some breakfast to wake up to. She didn’t really know what he was wanted when it came to Japanese breakfast, so she just makes some soufflé pancakes and some fruit. Nothing that breaks the diet too much, but something special for his birthday. Y/n made her way back to the bed and combed on top of him so that she was straddling him, “Wake up, love.” Y/n muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Oscar groaned, but made no move to wake up, “Come on, it’s time to wake up.” Y/n whined, grabbing his face and pressing feather light kisses all over it, making sure to kiss every mole or freckle. Oscar finally opened his eyes to see his girlfriend staring down at him with a blinding smile, “おはよう, お誕生日おめでとう!” Y/n greeted. Oscar smiled as he sat up, “Good morning to you too and thank you for the birthday wishes.” Oscar rasped, turning to the side to yawn before placing a kiss on Y/n’s forehead.

Y/n hopped off of Oscar’s lap and grabbed her tray with the breakfast on it, “I made breakfast. Pancakes, fruit, and tea!” Y/n presented the food proudly. It made Oscar’s heart melt that she’s not only made breakfast for his birthday, but also the fact that she should do something for him crossed her mind as soon as she woke up.

He was so lucky to have her.

Oscar gladly took the tray and pulled Y/n down next to him, “I know you haven’t eaten anything, so you should enjoy this with me.” Oscar suggested, spearing a strawberry on hood fork and holding it in front of her face. “Oh, no. No, thank you. I made it for you.” Y/n waved her hands in from off her face dramatically, “Yes, and i want to share.” Oscar said, “But it’s for your birthday.” Y/n argued, “Correct. It’s my birthday and my food that i want to share with you.” Oscar insisted.

Y/n rolled her eyes and reluctantly bit the strawberry, “Wasn’t so hard, was it now?” Oscar teased. “Oh, shut up.” Y/n said jokingly before clearing her throat, “What do you think…about… since it’s our third year together and the first time we’re in Japan together…” Y/n hesitated, wringing her hands nervously.

Oscar set the now empty tray to the side and grabbed Y/n’s hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs comfortingly, “What is it? You can ask me.” Oscar said. “Okay,” Y/n took a deep breath and looked Oscar in the eyes, “Do you want to possibly meet my parents?”

Oscar’s eyes widened before a gentle smile soar across his face, “I’d love to.” Oscar said, putting a hand on the back of Y/n’s head, pushing it a bit forward so he could kiss her forehead. “Really!” Y/n gasped excitedly, “Yeah, I’d love to meet your parents.” Oscar assured. Y/n jumped up and threw her arms around Oscar’s neck, knocking him down so he was now lying back down on the bed, “I’m so happy! I love you so much and happy birthday.”

“I love you too and thank you.”

[neoplatinum]

to love and to cherish - epilogue | minatozaki sana

summary: the aftermath of that day has left more than physical scars on your family

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: blood, murder, gore, knives, kidnapping, assassins, katanas, arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex, misamo!

wc: 4.0k

(series masterlist)

you stare at your shoulder, the scar from the stabbing in a lighter color. you lightly graze over the scar, watching the way it contorts under the pressure of your finger. a faint pain coming back just from the mention. you barely survived that attack from the abes. the injuries from your fight leaving imprints not only physically, but mentally.

some days you wake up crying, tears already staining the pillowcase. it’s either sana or the kids dying in front of you, the evil smile of the brothers causing you to toss and turn. sana’s always there next to you.

always next to you.

you tend to go quiet those mornings, letting yourself be vulnerable in her arms. constantly living with the images of the brothers killing your family.

today seems to be one of those days.

you’ve been having the same dream for the past couple of days. in this dream, sana is the one who rushed in, chasing down the brothers herself. intending to make them pay for their crimes. to tear them to pieces, instead they kill haruto and hanako with their laughs filling up the empty room. 

sana letting herself fall to the ground, sobs let loose as she lets them kill her, no longer willing to live. and you stand in the corner, pounding at an invisible boundary, screaming to save them all. 

in every dream, you are powerless, unable to protect the family that you’ve grown to love.

you watch yourself in the mirror, the injuries of the fight still evident across your body. some cuts deeper than others; a testament that you survived according to sana.

you let out a deep breath, as you wash your hands, trying to rid the thoughts from your head. a distorted version of the reality that you now live. the abe’s are dead and your kids are safe. even momo and mina are recovering quickly, momo’s back to her old muscly self.

turning off the faucet, and wiping your hands on a small towel as you walk back into the bedroom. sana’s still sleeping, her head lolled to the side, the comforter wrapped around her snuggly. 

smiling, you lightly adjust her head back, so she wont wake up with a neck cramp. her head continues to chase after your hand even as you step back.

you lean down to kiss her forehead before exiting the room. and outside your room is both haruto and hanako. his big eyes staring at you, rushing to hug your legs. you bend down, pressing a kiss to both of their temples before wrapping them in a deep hug.

haruto’s been more clingy with you, he doesn’t tell you what he’s seen that day. but you have an inkling it’s more than you intended him to see. maybe the bloodshed has made him more worried for you. he always clung to sana before, but these days, you find him wanting to sit on your lap at dinner, or begging you to read him to sleep. 

all of which you will happily oblige to, doing anything to keep his childhood a happy one. hanako doesn’t seem bothered, a warm smile always on her face, she’s grown to cling to sana.

you stand back up, picking hanako up in your good arm. letting haruto hold onto your fingers as you descend down the stairs, the family portrait fixed against the wall again. rounding the hallway and down to the kitchen.

sitting hanako into a high-seat while haruto clambers up a step-stool. hands against the ledge, watching you intently. you start making a simple japanese breakfast for everyone. spooning warm hot rice into bowls, and plating tamagoyaki on long rectangular plates. the distant chirping still heard through long panes of windows.

it’s a nice sunday, with your family until sana’s mother’s birthday. sending staff to the minatozaki estate to help set up.

haruto watches as you continue to stir the miso soup, pouring it into bowls, giving it to him to place on the dining table. a chore that he’s found himself enjoying. the heavy steps of his little feet against the hard wooden planks. his little hummings as he continues to walk back and forth. hanako’s just happy to be there with her little toy in hand as she tries to bite it. the rest of the breakfast gets served when sana walks into the dining room. 

you walk up to her, feeding her a piece of steamed egg, to which she happily melts into your arms after. “good?”

“the best.” you pull her towards her chair, scooting the chair in, and leaving the dining room to wash the dishes. haruto’s already going on about how excited he is to see grandma, while you can hear hanako’s toys shaking. grateful beyond belief that your family is safe and happy.

--

the drive to the main estate is quiet, other than hanako’s toys shaking in her hands. the sounds of light music playing through the radio speakers, haruto’s happily sat in your lap, hands on the car door as he watches the scenery outside. it’s nice to see him so happy, wonder-filled eyes observing the world around him. brushing through his hair, and teaching him the different things that he sees out the window.

the calming hum of the car, coupled with light coughs from the chauffeur makes you lose track of time. unaware that you have rolled into the main estate. gazing upon the beautiful trees branching down towards the people, like a giant canopy over the mingling guests.

that familiar crest on the wall, now in a golden pin on your breast pocket. a dignified gift from sana’s mother. a valued heirloom of the minatozaki clan, one you had to officially sign that was yours to own when she handed it to you. hanako continues to shake her rattle, clanging the wooden pieces against each other. you grab haruto in your arms as you step out the car. rounding around the back and opening the door for sana. a hand outstretched as you take it, letting her stand up. placing haruto on the ground for him to run behind sana’s legs. peering at the crowd of people out front. 

you place hanako on your hip, taking sana’s hand in yours. walking towards large doors, the sounds of gasps filling your ears, the feeling of being stared down from afar. continuing to walk in as the crowd parts at the sight. you pay it no mind as you walk down the familiar stone slabs. hearing the trickle of water and the sounds of the wind chimes nearby. 

immediately the security team is bowing to a perfect right angle. head straight down as you pass. little haruto hiding behind sana’s legs as he watches the people strangely. once you enter through the main doors, immediately you’re hit with the sight of dignitaries everyone. a far too familiar scene, you’ve started to dread these events. they always put you in a sense of unease. crowded spaces with limited exits has made you more hyper aware, constantly darting your eyes for exits and counts of people.

heads are turning at the sight of your family, the familiar lewd glances from the men and curiosity or disdain at the sight of you. rolling your eyes at the familiar looks. seems that even months away from prying eyes has made the people more nosy. you pull sana a little closer to you, her eyebrow slighted up at the motion. you just offer her cheek a kiss and continue to move forward.

its clear why sana feels like a zoo animal at these events, you’re feeling the exact same. 

you can’t blame them though, this is the first sighting of your family out in public in months since the showdown with the abe’s. it’s made friends and foes more curious of you. 

you even took a temporary leave from work, spending more time recovering and finding peace with the events that unfolded. the death of the abes led to an uproar in the japanese underground network, more people vying for the dissolved power that was once there. 

not many people know that kaito was killed by kenji, instead it was leaked that you killed them both. causing unease in the people, a sign of power being shifted in your direction. more and more of the minatozaki council is recognizing your power in the family. a sign that you could become the next capable leader. 

you can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing anymore.

you spot momo and mina afar, their eyes already scanning the scenery. a clear sign that they didn’t want to be here, resorting to their military training to distract themselves. you smile as haruto runs up to mina. shaking on her pant leg as she picks him up.

“hi momo, how have you been?” you ask, letting her coo at hanako, your daughter continues to shake the rattle in momo’s face. nearly hitting her with it. momo dodges it easily, and just pokes her cheeks lightly.

“always doing better than you.” she says, smiling wildly as she tickles hanako, her squirming in your arms. you pass her to momo, watching the way she tosses her in the air. your heart nearly dropping to your stomach, but then she catches her and hanako cheers. 

mina gives an approving nod before going back to people watching, sharp eyes looking for anything out of place.

sana pulls you into her, a content smile as she watches her kids play with her cousins. a reminder that this life wasn’t always going to be this way. had she been married to kaito, she doubts momo and mina would be willing to interact with her kids. but knowing that you are her partner, it’s obvious how willing they are to be intertwined in your life. 

the sound of a gong taking you out of your little bubble, the sight of sana’s mother taking center stage. a mic in hand as she welcomes the guests to her birthday ball. a bright smile on her face, as she continues to share the sentiments of how happy she is for the life that she now has. short anecdotes about how she started and how far she has come, even taking the time to pan to you and sana. giving a quick bow to the clapping guests as their eyes fall on your family.

she gives a graceful deep bow before exiting the stage. you grab hanako from momo’s arm and make your way over, letting her coo at her granddaughter. the other women in her circle fawning over the young girl, hanako absorbing all the attention. 

you’re starting to think that you’re raising a mini sana. one that showers in attention and wants to be treated like a little princess. sana’s mother smiles and picks her up. 

you step away from the group of woman, walking back to the trio. haruto begging to be held when he sees you, his eyes happy as he wraps his arms around your neck. a sign that he’s feeling safe.

you and sana make your rounds with other guests, kindly greeting them all. worried over the injuries that you’ve sustained. a trained smile as they express their empathy with greedy eyes. you keep your hand on sana’s back as you continue to move around the floor. taking time to appreciate the dragon tattoo that peeks out from the dress, fingers softly moving across her back through long conversations. 

her tattoo is a gorgeous sight you will never get tired of seeing. you continue to stare at it until she turns towards you, hair covering the tattoo as she caught you again. a warm blush spread across her face, a knowing grin sent your way. sana only smiles before coyly walking away, off to mingle with her mother’s friends. all of them fawning over her and her daughter. haruto peeks his head over, asking you to bring him towards his grandmother.

you drop him to the ground as he stands in between his grandmother’s legs. eyes peering at the older women in the circle, awws and compliments filling his ears. you take the time to glance around, more and more eyes on you than ever before. 

before abe blood was spilled, no one bothered to look at you. seeing you as another lap dog for the minatozakis, conditioned to become a pawn for their bidding. but since the events, it seems people are paying attention. the rumors of the death of both brothers at your hands spreading like a forest fire. causing hushed whispers and fear in those that know nothing of your background. 

you’re brought out of your thoughts when sana places a hand on your lower back, gently bringing you back to the present. giving her a kiss as you offer your hand for a dance. pulling her onto the dancefloor, weaving past on-lookers and those already dancing across the waxed murals floor. finding an empty space towards the middle. bringing your hand around her waist and intertwining your other hand with hers, giving her a nod as you both start dancing. you twirl her with your hand, watching the way her hand flows along with her. you don’t know it but couples around you have left the dance floor, instead watching her elegance with every step. instead you’re focused on her satisfied smile as you continue to keep in time with her steps. letting her dance around you, pulling her back in for a quick dip of her body. applause from all directions hitting your ears. you smile widely as you pull her back up. taking a deep bow with her, clapping still filling the dance floor.

she looks radiant like this, face shining under the lights, a genuine smile as she takes in the applause, even doing a quick spin for the theatrics. you laugh before offering your hand once more, walking away from the dancefloor. the couples that once were dancing finding their places once more.

“you never asked me to dance when we were kids. i didn’t know you could dance like that.” she says handing you a drink from one of the circulating waiters. 

“didn’t want to ask you then.” you explain, continuing to down the smooth amber liquid, the strength of the liquid hitting your senses. “thought you were stuck up.” immediately she hits your arm, the one holding the cup, you watch the liquid slosh up the sides, nearly spilling over. 

moving it away from your body as she stares at you, jaw hanging at the words. “you did not just say that.” she says, folding her arms over the other, staring you down.

“i never tell lies sweetheart.” you grin downing the rest of your drink before she could slap the cup out of your hand. laughing lightly as you just offer her a forehead kiss instead. 

“i was not stuck up.”

you just laugh, placing the cup onto a tray, giving a small thank you to the waiter before focusing on your wife once more.

“sana, you’re the heiress to the biggest japanese conglomerate family, and you want to convince me you’re not stuck up?” you challenge her, amusement dripping through the words.

“even if i was, you can’t say that i am. i’m your wife so that means that i’m always right.” she says with finality. you don’t have it in you to argue with her, reassuring her that it was all a big joke. her arms still folded as you try and hug her. you continue to pester her until you feel a tap on your shoulder. immediately turning around and keeping sana behind you, a hand keeping her away from whoever tapped you.

in front of you is a man and a woman. both their face stoic and strange tattoos along the side of their face. relaxed posture and open hands, dark purple kimonos, a fan in the woman’s hand. their crest upon the fan. you step backwards.

“hello.” you offer. the woman continues to stare at you, eyeing your outfit and particularly focused on the minatozaki pin you have on. stopping her fanning before starting up again. sana stands next to you, staring at the pair in front of you instead.

“it’s nice to finally put a face to all the rumors.” the man’s deep voice hitting your ear it’s raspy like a smoker’s and rumbly. he looks away from you towards sana. “sana minatozaki, it’s been a while.” he offers his hand, sana’s outstretched as he presses a soft kiss to her hand.

“yukio ito. it’s been a while.” she pulls her hand away from his hand, his eyes glancing up, a small grin as he continues to stay bending down. the woman stops her fanning, closing it quickly.

“i’ve missed you sana-chan.” the woman says, her eyes lighting up in that feigned smile, offering a hug to sana, watching the way she lightly touches sana. you feel your hair standing up. 

“yuri, it’s been a while.” sana offers, more bite to her words than you expected. yukio fixes himself back up while yuri starts fanning herself again. 

this feels like meeting the abe brothers all over again.

“taking down the abe brothers yourself and you married sana? what can’t you do?” he laughs out, grabbing a cigar from his pocket, lighting it in front of you. the scarring of his hand apparent, running zig zag lines all over. you watch the line of smoke floating up.

“i’m flattered you think that.” you say returning back to his face. 

sana steps closer to you, slipping her fingers in between yours, standing toe to toe against the ito siblings. he takes another cigar out of his pocket, offering it to you. 

“i apologize, but i don’t smoke.” you return it back to him, watching the way he stuffs it back into his pocket. 

“how proper, can kill two men with your hands but doesn’t smoke.” he laughs with his sister. you just nod and let them laugh away. “i like that, come have a drink with us sometime.” he says before turning away with his sister. 

watching them disappear into the crowd. letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as sana squeezes your hand.

“never thought i’d see her again.” sana mumbles to herself.

“why?”

“she disappeared to thailand years ago, way before we got married. said she was going to elope with this model that she found there. never heard from her since.” sana explains, pulling you towards her mother and her kids.

“i’m assuming you were close?” you say, continuing to walk next to her.

“my best friend actually, well before she disappeared.” she says, and you both arrive in front of her mother. haruto and hanako are dancing in the circle. wild movements and swinging arms everywhere as they enjoy the music.

“do you miss her?” you whisper to sana. continuing to watch your kids playfully dance with cheers from the older women. 

“not at all, one of my exes cheated on me with her for months. i only found out because mina caught them together.” she explains. you nod and go back to watching your kids. “that and she also stole money from me.”

“sorry to hear that, dear.” you say, patting your shoulder for her.

“it’s okay, it’s in the past.” you nod, letting her lay her head on your shoulder. watching the children fondly. 

sana’s mother admires the safety that you bring to her daughter.  a comfort in her heart finally easing in, knowing that she made the right decision approaching you all those years ago.

 then she turns on her heels rounding towards the stage. and immediately the music goes quiet, turning heads towards the platform. 

“thank you all for joining me tonight,” quick claps of applause before she moves along the stage. circulating across the platform, the lights shifting as she moves around. “i’d like to propose a toast!”

she grabs a drink from the tray behind her.

“to the future of the minatozakis!” she turns her head towards you, pointing the glass tipped your way. a light being shown on you and sana. you pull yourself closer to sana, pointing your glass towards the older woman.

everyone grabs their glass, and you cheers your in the air towards her. a loud harmonious cheer of ‘to the minatozakis!’ can be being heard as everyone takes a drink. loud claps following as she exits off the stage once more. 

sana kisses your cheek, intertwining your fingers once more. handing you her glass. you place the cups down on the table, taking sana’s too.

“i wanted to ask you something.” sana says, taking your hands in hers as she pulls you away from the main hall, taking one more glance at haruto and hanako still by their grandmother.

“what is it, honey?” she continues to lead you away from the main hall, there’s a few people lingering outside the doors but other than that’s its quiet. you continue down the hall with sana’s heels hitting the floor as she guides you to a meeting room. closing the door behind her and returning back to your side.

“do you want to have another kid?” your eyes immediately widen, thinking back to how scared your kids were in that room. that dreaded room, you hope to never see those crying eyes again.

“i do, but i’m scared sana.” you explain. there’s nothing more that you want but knowing the horrors that could have been inflicted on your family, you’re scared to bring another life into this family.

“scared of what?” she whispers gently, tucking your hair behind your ear. watching the way your eyes are so unfocused and lost in your thoughts.

all you can see is your hands covered in blood from then, your own children’s wails filling the air as you stare at a dead kaito abe. blooding spilling from his own shirt onto the ground. the dreams of everyone around you dying, without you being able to save them. stuck behind a barrier from those you care more than anything about.

“i’m scared i won’t be able to save them.” you exhale, dropping into a chair. “won’t be able to save the kids, won’t be able to save you.”

she shakes her head, dropping to her knees, watching the ways your shoulders sag as you lean back. concern filled eyes searching for yours, “but you did, you saved us. you saved the kids, you saved my own life.” she says dropping into your lap.

“you saved me, more than you could ever know.” she says kissing you softly, bringing you out from your vortex of thoughts. 

“but what if i can’t save them?” you counter, worried about the new threats that now exist just because the abes are dead. there’s newer powers to worry about. 

“you will, because i know you. you would save them even if you were on your last breath” she says confidently. you don’t challenge her on it, even if you were on your last leg you would still fight with everything in you to protect this family, to protect this marriage and your kids.

“i would do anything to save them, i just have dreams that i can’t save them.” you explain, letting her understand the night terrors that you’ve been experiencing since that day. she nods, she never step foot into the room, but she knows enough to be glad she never was there. 

“you can save them, i know it.” she says. and you nod, pulling her into a kiss as well. everything that’s been taken from you in your life, you have grown from it. learning to adapt to the circumstances that have been dealt. you can grow from this too, not letting the potential fear that festers in your brain stopping you from achieving the next step in life. 

“so another kid?” you say in a teasing voice.

“yes?”

“let’s have another kid then.” tickling her lightly as she erupts into giggles.

there’s no one else you’d rather live this life with. having sana by your side every day is a dream you didn’t know you had until now. to love and to cherish sana minatozaki with everything in you.

--

a/n: and it's finisheddd!!!! thank you to everyone who read this series frfr. and a special thank you to @cry4mina for always listening to me talk about my troubles with writing and giving me ideas. i hope this epilogue was a nice fluffy finish to such a dramatic story LOL. and for @d3viant0n3 this one's for you. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[valentine-writes]

their "i love you"s and other drabbles...

「 tws + notes: no tws, HEAVILY unedited, a little angst in sum partz but f it we ball (THERE'S SUMN WRONG W/ ME I NEVER DO THIS MUCH?), fluff, tried to add a lil bit of everyone, little thoughtz abt the characters,,, 」

↳ ft. ben reilly/scarlet spider, gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, jessica drew, lyla, margo kess, miles morales (1610 and 42), miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099, pavitr prabhakar, peter b parker, spider-man noir, and the spot/johnathan ohnn

「 gn!reader, romantic relationships <3 」

author's note: not my usual content but thought it wud b fun to whip up a few drabbles,, (´。＿。｀) diff format than usual too! all separate and stuff, w/ the characterz at the bottom being the ones the drabble applies to the most (ALL CAPZ MEANS I THOUGHT IT FIT THEM SUPER WELL!!!!) thought it wud b fun,,, altered lyrics are italicized, itz jus a pronoun change 2 make it gender neutral (❁´◡`❁) edit: my tags. do not fit. so i had to redo them. reblogz r super appreciated ^_^ i jus wanna make sure all fans of these characterz are being fed content <33

[ please don't forget about me - pompey ]

"and if you see me everyday / will I lose my shine?"

↳ always terrified of not being exciting and new to you– like one day, their appeal will fade. not like they understand what drew you to them in the first place, but they never asked. maybe you're just hanging around for the hell of it. maybe one day, they'll watch you leave and they'll have nothing to convince you to stay

"how many bad jokes will it take? / or awkward quiet times?"

↳ they wonder if they're already losing you slowly. everytime they speak to you, it's like they're trying to compensate for something. begging you to look at them– but not too close,,, just in case you notice how brutally flawed they are, beyond just the quirks you find endearing. maybe one day you'll look too deep into their eyes and you won't like what you see

▸ JOHNATHAN OHNN/THE SPOT, peter b parker

[ soft sounds from another planet - japanese breakfast ]

"i'll show you the way to hurt me"

↳ loving again is the biggest risk anyone who's been hurt like them could take. you make it worth the danger– the possibility of the pain they've grown all too familiar with. maybe for today, caution can be set aside. when it comes to you, they wouldn't mind letting their guard down.

"in search of a soft sound from another planet / in search of a quiet place to lay this to rest."

↳ they have to admit their past has burdened them in ways they can't even begin to communicate. they know you can't fix everything that has been broken in their lives. still, the comfort you provide is never taken for granted. you are their safe space– the soft sound from another planet. their quiet place to finally lay it all to rest. and suddenly, the aching in their chest doesn't eat them up inside as much as it used to.

you make it easy to love again.

▸ GWEN STACY, MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099

[ our lullabye - miracle musical ]

"i was made for you / you were made for me"

↳ it's hard to believe that you're more than just a distant fantasy sometimes. they can't deny how much they've yearned for a love like the one you two share. something so sweet, so real. it's nothing like the movies or the fairytales, but is anything ever? even when things are messy and complicated, it's undeniable how perfect it all feels. how everything about the two of you just fits. they're inclined to thank every shooting star they've ever wished on, every birthday candle they've ever held their deepest desires in as they blew the flame out for the day you two met. by any manner of higher power or forces unseen to the human eye, they're certain fate was on their side to give them such a blessing.

"i'll love you 'till you're gone / our song goes on and on"

↳ they're determined to hold on as long as possible. all good things cannot last– but they try not to dwell on that thought. they hold onto the hope that you're the one thing that will stay. your love feels divine. radiant, in the way it overtakes them fully. they almost feel undeserving. so, no matter how small or how grand the action, they try to remind you every day, "i love you"s woven into their every being whenever you're around.

▸ lyla, SPIDER-MAN NOIR, johnathan ohnn/the spot

[ i will - mitski ]

"everything you feel is good / if you would only let you"

↳ sometimes they feel you holding back. they can't help but notice the tension in the room as you suppress the things you want to say, silence the thoughts in your head. they know it's not easy to be earnest all the time. but they love you– they care for you. and all they've ever wanted is for you to be authentic. if it's pure, how could it ever be wrong? maybe in your own time, you'll be able to unravel in front of them. they're by your side every step of the way. to finally have you open up to them– to be real, to be honest– it would mean the world to them. they want to show you they love every single part of you. they love you when you're upset, when you're crying, when you're angry– because it's you.

"so stay with me / hold my hand / there's no need / to be brave"

↳ they offer every reassurance they can give you. you no longer have to fend for yourself. those days of being alone are over. you can crumble apart if you need– there's no need for constant bravery anymore. you did such a good job picking yourself up, time and time again. now, they outstretch a hand to you, a silent way of saying, "let me help you this time."

▸ ben reilly/scarlet spider, gwen stacy, HOBIE BROWN/SPIDER-PUNK, JESSICA DREW, lyla, MILES MORALES (1610), PAVITR PRABHAKAR, PETER B PARKER tbh all of them but shhh

[ right side of my neck - faye webster ]

"you looked back at me once / but i looked back two times"

↳ absolutely smitten with you. it doesn't matter how hard you fell. they. fell. harder. and maybe it's not obvious to you. but they've never had someone who made them care so much. some part of them feels immature for feeling so in love,, like a school kid with a puppy crush. they find it ridiculous, how absolutely lovesick and enamoured they are with everything about you. whatever you feel and express towards them, they feel towards you three times as much. they try everyday to show it.

"the right side of my neck / still smells like you"

↳ you just seem to leave a part of you with them always. they can't ignore it– can't seem to escape your presence, even when you're not physically there. it felt like spiralling to insanity at first. but they've learned to appreciate it– find comfort in it, even. the way the smell of your shampoo lingers on the pillow they leant you when you stayed over, the way that the mug of tea (made just the way you like it) is still on the kitchen table from the morning after– you left your t-shirt once and you had to ask them directly for it back. they like keeping pieces of you near. it reminds them of how loved they are.

▸ BEN REILLY/SCARLET SPIDER, gwen stacy, HOBIE BROWN/SPIDER-PUNK, MARGO KESS, miles morales (1610 and 42), pavitr prabhakar, the spot/johnathan ohnn

[ you love me - kimya dawson ]

"but when i met you, right away, i knew / you would never, ever, ever hurt me"

↳ you're used to pulling away. leave before they can leave you, before they even try to make you miss them– but the second you met them? they were insistent on proving that they were harmless. they could never dream of hurting you. and they see as you pull away, scared to get too close– and yet, every single time, they open their arms back to you.

"and the road's still long but you come along / and you hold my hand, and you understand"

↳ "when you're ready" has become second place in their favourite three word sentences. they remind you of these words constantly.

"when you're ready" means they don't mind that it's not now. ""when you're ready" means it doesn't matter how long they have to wait for you, they will. when you're ready" is another form of "i love you"

▸ MARGO KESS, MILES MORALES (1610), pavitr prabhakar, PETER B PARKER, spider-man noir

[ (you) on my arm - leith ross ]

"i wanna buy you pretty little things / and never ever lie to you"

↳ wants something simple with you. craves a form of sweet, normalcy. the mundane tasks and events of life seem far more appealing to them when you're in the picture. no, they never really imagined ever having a quiet life, yet the hope for one with you lingered. to buy you little gifts, to be the best they could possibly be to you, to drive around with you for the hell of it. they're certain anything could be heaven if you were there to accompany them.

a quiet life sounds nice.

"i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it"

↳ having you on their arm just makes them feel secure. keeping you close while showing you off to the world– showing you've got each other. they're a bit sappy for little things like this. everywhere you go, they never fail to extend an arm out to you. something about you makes them feel safer than ever.

▸ jessica drew, miles morales (1610), MILES MORALES (42), peter b parker, SPIDER-MAN NOIR

[ peach scone - hobo johnson ]

"so I fall to ground, collect myself and get ready to take over your heart / or at least your spare time"

↳ they try so incredibly hard to be the one for you. no matter what they try, they just seem to fumble and mess it up. they stumble over their words when they try to compliment you, they get weak in the knees when they try to make a move, and no matter how much they spend deliberating, and deliberating– they've got no clue how to win you over. hopefully you find their clumsy attempts endearing. they're making a fool of themself. and maybe, they haven't really said anything yet– but they're happy to at least hang around you in the meantime

▸ BEN REILLY/SCARLET SPIDER, gwen stacy, MILES MORALES (1610), spider-man noir, the spot/johnathan ohnn

[ dan the dancer - mitski ]

" he liked them more than life itself / i'm sure "

↳ he was quiet in the way he expressed his adoration. still, he did everything he could to ensure you would never go unloved. the way he looks into your eyes, taking you in like you are the loveliest thing on earth... it's only fitting. you're his world. maybe in the silent moments, when his fingers gently brush your cheek, admiring you– you'd begin to understand this.

▸ MILES MORALES (42), MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099

[ lover // over the moon - alice phoebe lou ]

"i'm a lover / i feel it now / i'm a lover / just never knew how"

↳ they don't even try to hide how much they enjoy your company. you're special to them– why would they try to hide that? at this point, whenever you feel arms wrap around you from behind, you've learned to see their grinning face when you glance over your shoulder. maybe they've never been particularly shy about most things,, but now they're just twice as loud. it's inexplicable, the things you do to them. they hadn't anticipated being so utterly soft,,, not like they're complaining

▸ hobie brown/spider-punk, PAVITR PRABHAKAR

[taotaoirl]

toji malewife headcanons

this is my take on the malewife headcanons (written months ago)

tags: fluff, gender neutral reader, you guys are living together/married

i like to think that toji is the #1 malewife (even though it is likely just my delusions speaking!)

first and foremost, he is a great cook

just imagine toji in a white apron (tied around his slutty waist ofc)

he would wake up super early every morning just to make the both of you (and the kids) breakfast, which would likely be a traditional japanese breakfast (consisting of fish, rice, miso soup, and pickled vegetables)

on sundays, he would make you guys an english breakfast (consisting of eggs, bacon, tomato, mushrooms, toast and no baked beans bcs fuck baked beans)

reiterating the toji would-do-anything-for-you fushiguro agenda because he would even *attempt to make you all kinds of baked goods even though he always overbakes everything. and ofc you gotta gobble that burnt shit up telling him it was the best thing you've ever had

once again reiterating the toji would-do-anything-for-you fushiguro agenda: when he's not running from his responsibilities, he likes to cook you an elaborate meal at the end of the day and yes he does the dishes as well

after a long day of work, there is nothing better than coming home to a table set for two and a three-course meal prepared by toji fushiguro.

the set up is nothing too fancy, no decorations whatsoever, but the food is top notch

toji likes to sit at the end of the table, head slightly tilted on his hand, watching you eat the food he has carefully prepared for you. he doesn't say much, but you notice the way his eyes soften the moment you pick up your chopsticks and start eating

if you compliment his cooking, he will likely get flustered (though he doesn't show it). he will simply raise his eyebrows, look away and say that the kids helped too (the kids, in fact, did not help)

it is well-established that toji probably has pretty nasty hygiene, but it is also common knowledge that megumi's mom helped him get his shit together. so i like to think that as long as he has someone to depend on, he starts taking care of himself too. especially when he is handed the responsibility of taking care of his family- he will do everything he can to avoid falling back into his old habits (of ass hygiene)

if you are away for long hours/working/too tired, toji will step up and do all the cleaning for you- vacuuming, dusting, deep cleaning every room- whatever it is, you name it, he'll do it

he'll do it but it's gonna be a mediocre job at best. it's better than nothing though!

needless to say he's also quite good at fixing household items (basically a staple repairman husband)

once he's done will allat (he will speedrun that shit) he'll get back on the couch/bed, put an arm around your shoulder and enjoy his silence with you

[oksurethisismyname]

There’s a lot of One Piece student/ high school Aus but I suggest One Piece teacher AU

Note: these descriptions are based on my experience as a teacher in southern USA. Where I’m at, you have to be certified to teach in public schools and it is a well known fact that coaches are almost always history teachers (don’t ask why)

Luffy is one of those coaches that is also a history teacher, but every student knows he only got his history license so he could be a coach. He’s taking girls volleyball to state this year, they are absolutely destroying their opponents. He teaches World History and is known for being vocally anti government / capitalist, but also super optimistic.

Sanji is a French teacher who is also certified in Home Ec. He is known by students to be a bit of a hard ass but he always brings food from whatever francophone country their learning about and students low key love him for always having snacks ready for kids who might not have enough lunch money or have breakfast at home.

Zoro is a coach as well, and he got certified in Japanese so he teaches one section and then uses the rest of his time coaching. Him and Sanji are both on the World Languages department and when the state language competition rolls around, they go HARD. Somehow he got roped into teaching health this year but is really hoping the teaching intern will get hired and take that over next year.

Nami is a certified geography and economics teacher, which is unfortunately apart of the history department so she’s stuck in stupid department meetings with Luffy. Shes in charge of detention and has students do stuff for her class as “punishment”, but really it’s a fun time with music playing and her classroom is always spotless after.

Robin is obviously also a history teacher. She’s AP certified so she does AP World, AP US, and AP Euro. Her students love her but are also kind of afraid of her. She’s currently advocating for the inclusion of AP African American Studies at their school.

Franky is part of the vocational program at the school, doing mechanic and wood working stuff with students. Alternatively, Franky could be the maintenance guy at the school. He’s always around fixing something.

Usopp is the drama teacher. He is the most chosen elective because he’s super funny and also has a habit of getting off topic and just not giving tests. He and Franky work together on set design and lighting for the school shows.

Brook is the choir and orchestra director. He’s super old so students think it’ll be boring but day 1 he is acting a total fool and kids love this crazy old man.

Chopper is a student teacher doing his internship as a biology teacher. He’s got major baby face and a sweet voice which is funny considering his teaching mentor is Dr. Trafalgar Law, who has resting bitch face and a tired annoyed voice. His AP bio and AP anatomy classes are some of the hardest classes at the school, but chopper offers tutoring and students are doing better now that they see Dr. Law being kind to Chopper .

Jimbei is the guidance counselor. He’s always got his door open for students to talk to him and he never judges them. He’s kind and patient and students trust him.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

02 fly high. where you have yet to realize what ushijima will mean to you.

<< 01 clear skies. | >> 03 shining light.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: double post this week, I'm feeling like i need some motivation to keep going. i wrote this a while ago, and am super excited with how this part ends, but i still feel like the flow isn’t the best here… word count: 1.4k warnings: some angst if you squint terms: furoshiki -- cloth that is used to wrap bento

june, first year

“curry rice!” you grin at the ash blonde haired boy, plopping a neatly wrapped bento on his desk as you slide into the seat in front of him. ever since your brother introduced you to him, he has become a constant in your everyday school life to the point that the two of you are almost inseparable. 

“are you coming over after practice again? we have that japanese homework that i need your help with” you shrug off your jacket, sweat sticking to your skin from the walk to school. summer is coming on quickly now, coaxing the spring blossoms that you loved so much away. 

semi hums in agreement as he unties the furoshiki and opens the bento excitedly. “it smells amazing, y/n! i am hungry thinking about it now even though i had breakfast.” he pouts at you. 

you laugh wholeheartedly, feeling something like satisfaction. it is one thing to have your family compliment your cooking, another to hear such sincere praises from your friends. you think this might just be it. high school might be better than you thought after all. after all the disappointments and heartbreaks from junior high and even before that. 

“thanks, eita. now keep it before you make the whole class hungry.” you poke fun at him as you pull out another set of wrapped bento, this one in plain cat print. it was the plainest, non-feminine-screaming furoshiki you could find after the one with crashing waves that you wrapped semi’s bento in. 

you didn’t normally bring bentos to school since both your parents are always busy with work. even this furoshiki is a recent addition after you graduated from junior high, when you started packing some meals for yourself. 

“so, you remember how ushijima-san helped me with my wound a few days ago?” you sound hesitant even to yourself. inside, you wanted to kick yourself for following through with this now that you are actually in the process of it, but it is too late. so you might as well get it over with. “i made an extra portion for him to thank him for his help… could you pass it to him at practice?”

“ehhh, why does he get one too? i have known you for two months now and it’s only my first time receiving a bento from you.”

you roll your eyes at the boy. “if you help me, i will make you a strawberry shortcake.” bribing him is easy when you knew he enjoyed the cake you shared last week. you breathe a sigh of relief when he does not pursue the topic any further. 

semi is quite the competitive persona, so it did not surprise you when that was the tangent he went off in, instead of the typical, do you like him? that other people would assume. this is good for you. you do not want him to misunderstand your intentions, and it’s not like you harbor those feelings for ushijima. you just strongly dislike the feeling of being in anyone’s debt. 

“how is practice for interhigh matches going anyway?” you smile at your newfound friend who you got along with as naturally as breathing. 

yes, high school will be different. i will see it so. 

it is pouring outside later that afternoon regardless of how clear the skies were when you walked to school in the morning. the sound of volleyball practice fades into the background as you pull out a blank music sheet and start scribbling the tune that has been rattling around your head today. 

today, when you climbed the stairs to the gymnasium and watched the practice match your school is playing against the college team that came in, you had expected to experiment with the melody when you get home later. you note that the usual starting lineup were on court, with the exception of one of the wingspikers being subbed out for ushijima. even though he is just a new first year. perhaps this is the lineup that the coach has in mind for the interhigh tournament, you had thought. 

and even though you have seen countless of your brother’s matches over the years, this one felt different. the spiking form of the player as he begins his approach, swinging both arms backwards before leaving the ground, feet kicked out behind him, and making contact with the ball with his left hand, sending it back into the opponent’s courtside, felt different. 

it had felt like you were given wings to soar high above the clouds when all life did was cover up the blue skies that you loved so much. it had felt like coming up for a full breath of fresh air after being dunked in water. it had felt like you were alive again, for once in a very long time. 

and the melody that you had been crafting takes on a life of its own, taking its first flight from your hands and rise high up into the sky. twisting, turning. triumphant. the notes flow onto the sheet as your hand struggles to keep up with your mind. 

before you know it, you hear semi calling your name from the court. eh, the match is over? you glance at your watch, showing two hours after when you arrived at the court. “yes! be right there!” you yell back, swinging your belongings onto your shoulder and making your way downstairs. 

music sheet in hand, mind far ahead of yourself, wanting to play it on your violin already, you venture to find your friend. semi is standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed while waiting for you. “were you paying any attention to the game, y/n?”

“what– take a look at this first,” you shove the paper in his hands, excitedly waiting for his response. one could say one of the reasons you two got along so well is your love for music. 

he takes his sweet time reading your rough draft and giving you a “hmph” before returning it to you. “fine, i forgive you for missing my set. this is an acceptable excuse, i suppose. it is no small feat to overcome a creative block.”  

semi shoots you a mischievous smile before slinging his arm over your shoulders and messing your hair up with his other hand. “SEMI”

“well done! but no next time though” “no promises”

another voice cuts through the air, stopping both of you from making a bigger scene. you had resorted to trying to make his hair stick up vertically as revenge. 

“miyamura-san…” ushjima holds out the cat clothed bento to you, slightly amused by you and semi. “thanks for the curry rice, it was delicious.” 

“waa, a compliment from ushijima-san, your cooking must have been amazing, miyamura-san,” a red-haired boy pokes his head out from behind ushijima, whom you would later learn is none other than tendo satori, a troublesome boy who always seemed to be able to see through you. 

you beam at his compliment, “heh, thanks guys.” swinging your bag to the front, you shuffle the things around in your bag to make space for the box. he had neatly tied the furoshiki around the box, which caught you by surprise, as semi had returned his to you in a clumsily packed fashion. you surmise that the rising ace in front of you is an athlete who probably likes to keep his life neat and in order, he seems like the type. 

“so what are you up to later, semi-semi?” 

“ah, i am going to y/n’s to study”

“can i come with? i have nothing else to do.”

“no! if you’re so free you can practice more volleyball.” 

semi banters with the red-haired boy, which sounds like a regular occasion to you. you chuckle to yourself, picturing ushijima, the stoic spiker, playing the referee between the two boys. now that would be entertaining to watch. 

your eyes meet ushijima’s, to which he raises his eyebrow at you as if he’s saying what’s so funny? you shrug, feigning innocence before turning away from him. 

neither of you realized it at the time, but ushijima gave you wings to fly, even before you really knew each other. 

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[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is Talliston House in Great Dunmow, United Kingdom. The primary bedroom in the home is listed as haunted, and is available to rent on Airbnb for $180 per night. You gotta see this gothic house.

Some common spaces are shared, but I'm not sure which. This is the Victorian living room.

And this is the gothic dining room. (You will get breakfast here- salmon and bagels with cream cheese.)

What a delightful kitchen.

This is one of the baths- there is a dedicated bath for guests.

The homeowner is a writer and this is his office.

The owner's bedroom. Now let's go to the haunted bedroom.

And, here we are in the very gothic "haunted" bedroom.

Wow, that closet is magnificent.

There's a throne in here, too.

Details of the fireplace mantel.

This is probably a nighttime photo.

Candle on the nightstand.

Door to the lovely Japanese tea garden is steampunk.

Isn't this beautiful? That's an opium table with a sphere and art deco tea set.

Italianate staircase to the upper floor.

In the attic is a Cambodian treehouse.

In the front yard is a gothic style garden.

By the barn on the property is an Irish fountain in the courtyard.

https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/10454498

[xanaxspritz]

hi🥰🥰 i just saw your post about requests being open so here i am, brain filled with suguru worms🧎 i’ve been daydreaming sm about living a slow, romantic cottage-core life with this man. would you consider doing headcanons for that?🥹

an: wrote this in an aiport lol. set after suguru declares war on jujutsu high but doesn't die. escapes in exile with sorcerer!reader. this got a little dark sorry!

cw: a bit of tradwifery (sorry), possessiveness, vomiting, impregnation

you're still getting used to the country life. it's nice and tranquil. there's a few yuzu trees surrounding the cottage you and suguru inhabit and a strawberry field by the lake that's less than a mile away from the house. suguru moved you two to the japanese countryside after narrowly escaping death after the war against jujutsu high to lay low for a while, but his grip on you has only gotten stronger after leaving tokyo.

you made do with what you had. fleeing so quickly meant no time to pack. a part of you missed the temple, the people, the friends you made, and the huge master bedroom you and suguru shared (the cottage bedroom wasn't half the size). but suguru insisted that this tiny cottage would be the best chance from gojo or anyone from jujutsu high to find him, so here you were, bright and early fixing suguru breakfast.

"smells great darling," he says smiling as you pour the hot green tea into his teacup. "will you not have any yourself?"

"no, im not hungry," you shrug.

"hmm."

you sit in comfortable silence for a bit, looking out the window next to the table while he goes back to reading the paper. you knew you should feel lucky to be here, the village was so pretty and picturesque, and the villagers were so welcoming. you knew you should feel even luckier that surguru chose you, yes you, to run away with him. he fucks you harder now, rougher and more impulsively than the carefully calculated man that he was before. he cums inside you now, every single time as if he was trying to get you pregnant. maybe he's taking his frustrations out on you, or maybe he's just showing you how much he really loves you, and it would be a lie to say you didn't like it.

you feel his big hands rub your knee under the table, taking you out of your thoughts.

"you look like you're thinking about something," he raises an eyebrow.

"oh! it's nothing. just thinking about tokyo I guess," you say.

"I believe there's a festival in the village today. would my pretty girl like to get some sweets? we'll walk there together."

your ears perk up. "really?" you ask. maybe they'll have matcha dango you loved getting from the stand nearby the temple. maybe they'll even have candy apples. "I would love to go."

walking hand in hand, you stroll to the village center for the festival. suguru holds your hand tight, squeezing it, giving you a small, sweet, smile.

"I know it hasn't been easy for you," he begins "but you're doing a wonderful job. always so obedient, so caring of me. one day, I would like you make you my wife."

you're heart beats faster after the mention of "wife". this was the first time he's ever said the word. could this really be happening?

"I would be honored to," you grin unable to hide your excitement. for the rest of the day, you're elated and bubbly at the possible idea that one day you'll be suguru's permanently.

xxx xxx xxx xxx

he fucks you fast and hard that night, you take every inch of his dick a the good girl you are, leaving his dick inside of you overnight while you sleep in his embrace. the next morning you feel a wave of nausea, throwing up until you puke clear liquid from the depths of your stomach. it could be forming eating too many deserts, but you pull a pregnancy test form behind the mirror cabinet in the bathroom just to be safe, and wait the five longest minutes of your life to find the stick displaying two bright blue lines. your heart sinks.

"suguru...i think.. i might.." you say coming out of the bathroom finding him at the dining table, tears begin welling in your eyes. "I'm pregnant!" you blurt out, shoving the pregnancy test towards him.

he gingerly grabs the stick, taking a few minutes to process the news and then sinks down to his knees at your feet, peppering thousands of kisses at your navel.

"i've been waiting for this moment," he says rubbing your belly. "i cant want to see youre body grow with my child, youre gonna make such a good mama, i promise."

suguru stands up to wipe your tears away, giving you a big hug. you were finally bound to him forever. with his essence inside you and a baby on the way, you could never leave him even if you tried. he rubs your back, letting you sob on his shoulder. you are his for the rest of time.