#now i have to wait until new production performs...

[janeya]

wondering .. do u guys consider me the jane ceo or is that just my own wishes..

[defmaybe]

Party Police

ITZY's Shin Yuna x Male Reader

1.4k words

Sequel to Sticky

A/N: Let’s do a sequel!!! Again, I really love writing Yuna dominant lol, thanks for reading!!! Also, this one doesn't have the "definitely, maybe" line lol.

—

The plane croaks and cries as its wheels touch the runway. It slows down and turns a few times to park. Then, the seatbelt light above is gone.

—

Narita

As far as a company trip goes, this one should give you bragging rights over your friends until death. A spring trip to Tokyo–where every street and building is photogenic. The air is perfect (a bit cold, really, but it’s definitely better than your home).

Of course, it’s a reward from your generous boss, who fought the higher-ups to death for this trip. Your team’s productivity has soared under her reign, as she always brings snacks for your co-workers every single day. And with her bubbly, optimistic attitude, and such a level of competency you don’t dare to compete, they just had to approve this one-week trip at the price of a car.

The secret sessions between you two remain, well, a secret. Though, there has been a running rumor of your boss having a booty call with an employee, but you’re smart enough to play along with the wave, pulling out the ‘yeah, who could that be’ along with a few chuckles.

—

Shibuya, not so far from the crosswalk

The exit of the station has always been so busy, oh, so bustling in its nature. The chill air welcomes you to the afternoon of Shibuya. In front of you is the crosswalk—that goddamn crosswalk. You follow the wave of the people to the landmark, waiting to reach your sanctuary again.

The red stop signal flickers

1 2 3

You stride through the crowd—some holding their phones to capture the moment, some are just trying to reach their destinations as soon as possible.

You walk on the same path that you did years ago, just walking up north to your terminus, and there it is.

You open the glass door, and you feel another breeze from the air conditioners from inside blowing your face. It looks a bit cramped, but it’s definitely well-planned enough for you to see all the new albums. The first floor is mostly decorated with yellow and red–same as the big sign outside.

—

Tower Records

“Hmm, Alvvays, huh?” 

Yuna suddenly appears by your right shoulder, staring at their debut LP you’re holding.

Into your ears, she whispers, “You have a great taste, baby boy.” Her voice is breathy–hints of depth under it.

“You don’t have to leave. You could just stay here with me~” Yuna sings. Her hands are perching on your shoulder as she performs her little swaying with the hips.

“Forget all the party police. We can find comfort in debauchery~.”

With debauchery, her right hand trails down your lithe frame, down the sides, as you’re trying your best to stifle your own moan. The Alvvays disc in your hand is trembling.

“Oh, baby boy, I just wanna eat you right here, among these CDs,”—she continues—“I just wanna have you squirm, one hand holding on Antisocialites, another holding on Blue Rev.”

“M–Miss Shin, what are you s–saying? I d–don’t think it’s appropriate–”

“Shhh, baby boy, it’s not ‘Miss Shin’ here. You know the word, remember?” Yuna giggles at her own words, as you’re sweating at the fear of getting caught inside your own sanctuary. And she doesn’t let your body find its footing so firmly in the section either. She presses you forward, and you step back in response.

A B

“Say it, baby boy. Don’t keep me waiting~,” she teases. She presses you past Carly Rae Jepsen. Emotion runs high on you.

D E F G

“I–I can’t, Miss Shin. This is n–not the place.” You two are on Hatchie; she’s still without a blush. You must be fucking red as a tomato now, judging from how your whole body feels so damn hot.

I J K

Lorde. “Oh, baby boy, I know you wanna say it so, so bad. You just love being under my domination, don’t you?” 

But you can’t just give her a green light that easily, despite how much you just want her to pump your cock right here and now, in Tower Records Shibuya. There’s a matter of shame in play here. Your breaths are out of rhythm, unlike the music out of speaker right now.

M N O

“Ooh, look who it is here,”—Yuna picks up the Brand New Eyes box with both of her hands, pouting—“It’s Paramore! You… are… the only exception~. Am I your exception too?”

Fuck, why is she so irresistible?

Q R S

Taylor Swift appears in your sight on the left, along the steps back. “Y–Yes, M–M–” The thought sprouts in your head now, but you just can’t form the words. You’re, again, enchanted under her spell.

U V

Wolf Alice. “No hard feelings if you can’t say it, baby boy. I’ll just take the subway to Harajuku or somewhere else if that’s what you want, alone, without you~.”

X Y

“Y–Yes.”

“Yes… what, baby boy?”

“Yes, m–m–mommy. Y–You are my exception.” And on Z, you surrender to her.

“Good boy.” Yuna holds your hand, waking up a few butterflies inside you, before guiding you towards….

—

Tower Records’ Bathroom

“Umm, mmph, I’ve been dying to taste this cock for so long, baby boy.” And Yuna supports her point by dragging her filthy tongue along the underside of your length, glistening you with her saliva. And how can you not shudder with that? “I’d say… it’s worth the wait.”

“M–Mommy~,” you groan, eyes fluttering on top of the toilet.

What a sight. Yuna is kneeling on the floor for you in this stall, aiming to please you with her mouth. You can see her cleavage from the above, with her nipples still covered with the black bra. To ramp up the experience, she starts with taking in your whole mushroom tip with no struggle. God, she’s so good.

Her oral expertise continues to astound you, as she twirls her tongue around your tip, gathering any pre-cum leaking out.

“Hmm, I think I should do a bit more before you cum~,” she says, before diving onto the base of your throbbing length with ease.

“F–Fuck! You’re so t–tight, mommy,” you moan, and your hands are holding on to the lid with your dear life, not wanting to fall. Your head is basically leaning on the wall behind you now.

Yuna says nothing, but you can see her smiling on your shaft despite the cheeks being hollowed out to create such otherworldly suction. Fuck. She bobs her head up and down to bring you to the edge. Her gag reflex starts to make her tears welling up, but that doesn’t stop her from pleasuring her favorite employee with her mouth to his hilt.

Every movement of hers is considered, aiming to milk your cock just like she did that time with her right hand, the other grabbing you by your slutty waist—when you were nothing but a toy for her to play with. She hollows her cheeks, as said, to create such otherworldly suction. And that dreamy eye contact while she blows on your hardness, god, who wouldn’t cum within a heartbeat. 

“M–Mommy, I’m gonna cum,” you say, as your hips buck into her with her frenetic movements.

Yuna doesn’t relent her attempts, still gagging profusely on her baby boy’s needy cock. She makes this little whiny sound with every of your thrust, as the end of your digit reaches as far back as it can. Yet, she’s still determined—so fucking determined to please her number one employee. But now, you want just a bit more.

“M–Mommy, y–your tits, p–please.”

She gives in to your plea too easily, but it’s like you’d complain. She quickly discards layers of fabric until her bra is left. And after a few magic tricks of her hands, her last barrier falls off just for you. You savor in the moment of her bare breasts and the stiff nipples under your impending orgasm. Oh, what a sight.

And it’s there, your seed releasing into her throat.

“M–Mommy~,” you whimper.

Your length twitches inside her tight cavern, wanting to squeeze every drop out of you. She doesn’t let any drop leak out of her mouth either, swallowing any residue down to her stomach.

And as you finish, she has to open her mouth and stick out her tongue to show her clean cavern.

“F–Fuck, mommy, w–why, why are you so good?”

“Just for my favorite employee, baby boy.”

—

[totemstones]

Before shooting

(Jennie x Male Character)

Tag : Blowjob

Length : 1.1K words

‘Hour and a half work after seeing this pic, i rushing it’

‘Pre-300 notes on my first post at first and a half day!!! Thank y’all’

Jennie has her shooting appointment for one of famous fashion brand, for being their’s ambassador. Brand’s team wants her to take a picture with their product, so they assign her to do a shooting.

When the shooting day has come. Jennie comes to meet the team to brief on the theme and details.

‘Hi, Jennie. Let’s go down to the details. I want you to be less teasing. You know, our brand is not that sexy, and since we saw what you did, like, the see-through shirt, inappropriate clothes, nip-slip during the performance, or shaking your butt on stage. I don’t know that if you’re doing this on purpose. So, i want you to be less teasing. Are you ok with that?’

‘Of course, i can do that’

‘I am trusting you, Jennie’

Since Jennie and the team are in the same line. The team let Jennie do the costume part. Jennie is getting mad about them.

‘Fuck, why they try to stop me for being teasing, that’s fucking me. Dumbass’

The fashion stylist guy preparing her clothes for shooting. Then Jennie starts to call him

‘Hey stylist, come here please.’

‘Yes’

Stylist ran into the changing room, where Jennie was still wearing her shirt.

‘What happens Jennie?’

‘I think the shirt is a little small for me, I think it’s fitted, but I want a new shirt that a little looser. Do you have another shirt like this.’

‘I’ll find it, wait for a moment’

‘Ok. When you find it then comes to me’

The stylist went to finds a new shirt for her, a one-size bigger. He finds it and runs back to her.

‘Jennie, I found a new one for you’

‘Alright, you can come in’

Stylist opens the door, and sees Jennie did a little loose on her clothes, both shirt and skirt, that he can noticing it.

‘Here, your new shirt’

‘Thank you. But I want you to do something’

‘What?’

‘Can you wear it for me?’

‘What! I can’t do that’

‘Oh, come on baby boy, you can do that to me. I didn’t mind that, come here’

Jennie snatches his hands and his hands are touch her titties.

‘Oh, sorry Jennie. I didn’t mean to do that’

‘Why you do that to me! I will tell your boss what you do that to their model!’

She says it loudly enough to make sure that someone will hear it. He feels like he might get in the trouble and will get fire soon if someone heard that, for being in the room with the model.

‘No, i’m sorry Jennie, i’m so sorr-’

‘Nuh uh shhh…, don’t say that to me, don’t act like a cry baby. I have a little barter for you.’

Jennie brings her stylist to stand up, and her hands start to scrape the pant around both of his thighs.

‘I’ll suck your dick, if you let me to do it, you might not get in the trouble. But if you don’t want me to do it, I’ll doing that again, and you might get fired soon. What do you want baby boy, scream for help or fuck my mouth until i scream’

She does a little handjob to get his dick getting bigger, seducing him with it.

‘I mean, i even hate them when they try to lower my seducing, to match their product’s theme, so why i supposed to call them for? Anyways, i want someone to see my seducing part but privately. Are you will be the first one to see that? This might be your remuneration from me’

Jennie don’t wait for his answer. She drags down his pant, the belt hitting on the floor make a sound, that’s make Jennie feels even hotter.

‘I mean, I don’t have too much self-confidence. But who the fuck will stop me to acting like that on stage, even the brands who pays me. My slutty side talents have to be shown to everyone’

Jennie taking his cock into her mouth, stylist releasing a groaning of relief, this making Jennie going faster on sucking his cock.

‘Oh Jennie, you’re so fucking good at this’

‘I know that, but don’t try to be praising me when i give it. You just pretend to love that’

He starts to grabs her head, and synchronizes her rhythm, to show that he really enjoys it without pretending. Now he starts to feels like he just fucking her mouth, and she’s not trying to blow it anymore

‘I didn’t pretend it bitch, I really loving it. Now you look like fucking lazy whore who let the boy control her head and rest’

Jennie got screw by him, by going in and out rawly.

One of the staff from the team started to finding Jennie, because she should have been shot now. So, they shouting her name out loud.

‘Jennie! It’s your queue now. Where are you’

Then they came to the costume room, and saw Jennie’s phone here, they thought that she might have a trouble about dressing.

‘Jennie. Are you in there?’

He lets his cock out to give a chance to Jennie to answers them’

‘Yes, I’m here, I just get a little trouble about my dressing here’

‘Oh! I’m sorry I will find the stylist for you’

‘Never mind, i did it by my o-‘

He can’t hold it. He takes his dick into his mouth again, and whispering to her ears.

‘Answer them while my cock in it. Let me see your actual talent here. You say you want to show your talents privately huh? Show it to me then’

He continue fucking her mouth slowly, not loud, to don’t make a noise and be heard by the staff outside.

Jennie had been silent for a moment. Staff start to wondering.

‘Jennie, are you okay?’

‘Yea- yeah, i a-am okay, dor-don’t worry bor-bout me’

‘Okay, but do it quickly, the cameraman is here now’

‘Alr-alright’

Both of them hearing the staff has closed the door. The tension is definitely rising. Jennie look up to him.

‘Did i show it correctly?’

‘That’s correct, but not complete yet. Let me cum in your mouth first’

‘Alright baby boy, i’ll let you cum in my mouth’

‘Alright, never think in my entire life that i will fuck a superstar like you, never. But thank you to want to being slut, want to acting slutty to someone. You make my dream comes true’

‘I’ll take that’

He pacing faster on her, her face getting more ahegao. Then his orgasm about to comes soon.

‘I’m about to cum. Can i blow it on your face or your tits’

‘Can you do both?’

‘I’ll sad if my clothes got wet as a stylist, but in this case, i’m so fucking happy right now, fucking with a superstar yet slutty artist. I’ll do both’

‘Bet’

Then he came all over her face and her shirt. The last groan from her is so sexy. She wipes the cream on the shirt.

‘I hope someone will not get mad because the cum and my sweat will make a strain on it’

‘I’ll keep it then, to remember what we just did in this changing room’

‘Ah. You such a romantic guy. Love you baby boy’

They get their dress back up again, he change a new shirt for her. Then gave him a 2-minutes romantic kiss for a tips before she will take a shooting.

Still continue…

[horrorhot-line]

metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self or way of life. 

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo / immune! reader

➵ word count: 14.2k

➵ genre: of avoidance and coincidences

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: s1 ep 3. for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why your peaceful life had been turned upside down. no matter what you did, you always found yourself dragged into saiki’s problems. worst of all? at first you wanted nothing to do with him, and slowly, without even realising it, you didn’t mind being around him as much. 

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

➵ previous part - serendipity

horrorhot-line © 2020. all rights reserved.

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

if you use the above format of speech in your fanfic, please credit as I was the first to come with it, thank you <3

author’s notes: this post is a rewrite from my friends to lovers series that I first posted back in 2020, the relaunch you’ve been waiting for is finally here! it’s still pretty much the same with a few changes here and there, hope you all enjoy <3

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Your plan to swerve the scary psychic you had the pleasure of calling your classmate worked well enough—until it didn't. It all started going downhill when you ran into Saiki at the park.

He just happened to be there because your paths intertwined on the way home from school. What's worse is you had taken a different route on purpose to avoid getting involved with the man, only to find yourself in the same crowd as him, watching a magic show.

From your first encounter with Saiki, you had decided to keep your distance, especially after you found out he was probably the most powerful psychic in the world. You had promised not to tell anyone his secret and made sure not to be caught near him, yet there he was.

Truth be told, you were terrified of him. You didn't have enough fingers to count how many times you had caught sight of him in your peripherals in the days following your visit to his house, following you to make sure you held up your end of the bargain and didn't tell anyone of his powers. Which? Rude, first of all, bold of him to assume you were a snitch; if he was a telepath, then surely he knew you weren't the type to spill secrets.

"Who's ready for another très bien trick by me? Master illusionist Uryoko Chono!" The magician performing the show asked as he pulled out a cone you recognised all too well from birthday parties, and you moved swiftly to the side so confetti wouldn't land in your hair. You didn't have the time to stand idly by and watch— you needed to be home for the new soap opera that would launch that day!

That, and you didn't want to get caught in any situation that involved a particular psychic. You decided to do a U-turn when you saw Saiki's pink hair in the crowd; turning on your heel, you were ready to hightail it out of there until the magician addressed you.

"Hey, student! Why don't you stay and join the fun? You too, pink hair! I'll do a trick to put a smile on those faces!" Chono exclaimed, leaning on the table before him and putting a hand out to stop the two of you. There was little chance of that happening; you were sure Saiki didn't even know how to stretch the corners of his mouth.

You sighed, fully ready to leave, only to be greeted by the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. Great! Now you had to stay. It seemed like Saiki felt the same, shooting a side glance your way before staring at the green-haired magician as the both of you decided in silence that the attention of leaving wasn't worth it— being a sheep would have to suffice for now.

Finding yourself at the front of the crowd, you deadpanned at the magician. "Oh! I see you're a sceptic." No, that wasn't it. It was more the fact that you could think of a million other things that called your attention, and this magic show wasn't one of them. "Well, once you see my show, you will become a believer in my powers to amaze." You could only purse your lips at the statement; you weren't buying it.

All magicians were hacks who used their ability to misdirect to achieve their illusions. What was the saying again? The closer you look, the less you see. That, and after finding out about Saiki and how vast his powers were, nothing this man had to offer would phase you. Yet, you watched anyway because walking away would be way too awkward now.

Saiki walked towards the crowd, joining it at your side. How had this caught his attention, you wondered. Did the magician really have supernatural powers? 'No— I'm watching, so he leaves me alone.' Saiki had yet to think something at you in weeks, and when he did, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

You were sure you'd never get used to his voice echoing inside your brain. At least he had cleared up your misunderstanding, you thought to yourself before moving away slightly, so the man in question wasn't too close to you. From where you stood before, you could practically feel his body heat and your touch-starved brai— Stop! Don't think anymore, and just focus on the show.

The magician pulled out a box with a cartoon-like shooting star on it. "Right. I hold here an ordinary cardboard box." Chono stated, holding it up for the crowd to see. 'Nope, there's nothing ordinary about it.' Saiki thought at you, his expression dead, as always. You still couldn't understand why Saiki was talking to you. Curiosity peaked, you replied anyway, 'What do you mean by that?'

"As you can see, it's empty inside." The magician tilted the box, opening it so all could see, and he was right. 'At that angle, you can't tell there's a partition.' So that's how the performers did it; you always wondered how they accomplished tricks like that. You were right— this guy was a hack!

At least his showmanship was on point. "But, watch! Just a couple taps and it's party time." Chono said as he tapped his cane on the box before opening it, only for birds to shoot out and fly away into the distance. "Aren't they amazing, folks?"

The crowd cheered and clapped for the magician, not knowing what you and Saiki did. "Hey there, kids! Très bien, am I right?" The magician asked as he pointed a finger at the both of you. Not to you, they weren't, but the trick probably would have perplexed you either way if it wasn't for Saiki telling you how the box worked.

'It's not très bien. If anything, I'm worried about that dove.' Saiki remarked, and you turned to look at him questioningly, his gaze fixed on the magician. 'What dove?' You inquired, confused as to what he meant. Saiki answered, but his eyes never left the green-haired man's form.

'He has a dove under that hat, but I think he forgot about it.' You examined the magician's maroon hat, guessing Saiki could see through it with his X-ray vision. 'Shouldn't we tell him?' You looked from Saiki to the hat and back, your concern growing. 'After. I'll tell him once he's done here.' So the rock of a man next to you did have a heart, after all.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention here for the main event of our show, my super illusion!" Where had Chono pulled out those massive boxes from in the few seconds you looked away? His hat, you mused, chuckling quietly to yourself, stopping only when you noticed Saiki shoot a look of dismay your way.

Wow, tough crowd— then again, the psychic didn't really have a sense of humour to begin with. "Magically teleporting from one box to another will be my lovely assistant, Michael!"

Chono snapped his fingers before looking to his right, and you followed his line of sight only to see an old man with a straw hat on his unruly grey hair. 'Lovely is a stretch.' You winced. Were those flies buzzing around him— and what was that foul odour he was emanating?

You had to agree with Saiki on that one. You could think of a lot of ways to describe him off the top of your head, but 'lovely' definitely wasn't one of them. Then again, from the looks of it, he was probably homeless, so who were you to judge? At the end of the day, you felt sorry for him. Too busy lamenting is sympathy; you didn't notice Saiki staring at you before looking back at the show.

"The beautiful Michael is entering the box." The assistant was definitely not beautiful, either. Maybe Chono was blind? Now, if that were true— it might've gotten a clap out of you. The magician explained the trick yapped as you watched the old man get in before the lid was shut behind him. Chono snapped his fingers again, "And, drum roll," before doing some weird dance and making sound effects with his mouth. Guess he had to raise the level of excitement somehow.

This act had better blow your socks off, your legs hurt from standing in place this long. 'This is so sad.' You nodded at Saiki's thought, 'It's almost painful to watch.' The second-hand embarrassment you were getting was through the roof, 5 more minutes of this and you were sure you'd be a victim of spontaneous human combustion.

Was it too late to regret your choices? You did not waste 20 minutes of the airing of the new soap just to be disappointed. The crowd murmured in anticipation. 'What expression am I supposed to be making right now?'

Even you couldn't tell Saiki the answer to that, 'A smile maybe?' You mused, only for him to shoot a glare at you, causing you to put your hands up in surrender. Chono released the ball of confetti in his hand, and you watched as it fell to the ground. 'His overconfidence makes me cringe.' Your face scrunched at the scene— you weren't sure how much more you could take. 'You and me both.'

'And I'm still worried about that dove. Does that hat have air holes?' From what you could tell, no, it didn't. At least Saiki cared about the well-being of animals. 'I'm not worried, I just don't wanna be around to see a bird die.' You rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest. Of course, he was the type to deny it. God forbid he actually had the ability to express concern for something.

"Alright, let's open the box!" Chono said as he walked over to the other box, putting his hand on top. 'Uh oh, lovely Mike isn't done teleporting yet.' You were beyond confused, turning to Saiki, who was still facing the stage. 'He's under the table.' Your eyebrows unfurrowed as realisation washed over you. That made sense, so the trick was to use the table to go to and from the box.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, dreading what was to come. "3, 2, 1... It's party time!" Chono exclaimed, a huge grin on his face. Michael came out, alright— just not from the box. He crawled out from underneath the table and raised his arms as if he had completed a feat. Chono stood with his back to Michael, his hand gesturing to the empty box.

A comical sweat bead formed on your forehead, and you cringed internally. Listening to the sound of a fork on the chalkboard probably would have been a better use of your time. You bit your fist as if that would help ease how uncomfortable you felt. Was it too late to make a run for it?

The crowd was deathly silent, and it was no wonder why. 'Now I really don't know what expression to make, maybe this one?' Saiki remarked as he observed the magician. You watched as Chono's expression fell, a hideous grimace taking its place as if he'd just witnessed an entity of cosmic horror like Cthulhu. 'Yeah, that seems appropriate', Saiki confirmed, and you were glad his unintentional comedy saved you from losing further brain cells.

The crowd dispersed shortly after that, and you stayed behind with Saiki to witness the aftermath.

"Why should I pay you for ruining the illusion?!" Chono exclaimed at Michael, who only retorted. "I moved at the normal speed— it was your darn pattern that got too fast. Now, you hand over that 500 yen." The assistant put his hand out, expecting his payment.

"No one tipped me for this performance, so I couldn't pay you even if I wanted to," Chono stated before he noticed your and Saiki's presence. "Hey, why are you two hanging around?" The magician said as he turned his back to Michael. Saiki wordlessly raised his finger to his head and bent it repeatedly.

"What, oh, you wanna give me a tip? Haha, I could never take money from a kid. The look of joy on your face—" Chono cut himself off when he looked down at the hat he took off his head. "—PICO!" That poor bird, you couldn't help but think.

"I completely forgot she was up there," Chono said, now sitting down as he stroked the dove. So that's why Saiki chose to linger even after the show had ended— he was still worried about the bird. Truth be told, you'd nearly forgotten after you saw the last trick. 'How can you forget there's a dove on your head?' Saiki stood at Chono's side as he looked down at the white creature.

You questioned the same thing- surely the animal had rustled and moved around up there. "So, you weren't trying to tip me; you were trying to remind me. Wait— does that mean... That you're a magician? That's how you knew she was up there." Saiki clenched his fist, a frown forming on his face. No, he was an esper. 'I should've kept walking.' Saiki lamented.

"With instincts that good, you must have hated my show." At least the green-haired man was right about one thing. Saiki had, in fact, hated the show, but he only had his powers to blame for that. "Maybe I'm not cut out for the magician game after all." Cue the sad music in the background— where did the sound even come from? Was there a hidden speaker somewhere in the park?

You were sure the universe had some sort of playlist, like a version of a 90s TV show's laughing track, the one that went off at the right moments. "Until a few months ago, I was your average office drone," Chono told the two of you, bowing his head as he sat on the park bench.

Hold it. You did not agree to listen to whatever existential crisis he had going on. "Then, I made a small mistake." Of course, you'd have to hear his sob story anyway. 'Oh, boy.' You sighed, waiting for the magician to get it all off his chest. "Corporate fat cats laid me off. Then, my wife skipped town."

Damn, homeboy was really going through it, alright. 'Is it too late to walk away?' Saiki questioned no one in particular, but you answered anyway. 'It is.'

"With no job, I couldn't pay the mortgage anymore. One little mistake and my career, wife and home had all disappeared, and then it dawned on me. I should become an illusionist." This was heartbreaking and all, but you had to wonder where he was going with this story. "Wait- what?" Was it you, or was Saiki's voice hot as fu— No! Now was not the time!

"Because so many things had vanished from my life, I thought it must mean that disappearing them was my talent!" You nearly choked on your spit. Well, that took a turn. The plot twist gave you whiplash. Oh, dear. This poor man... somebody help slap some sense into him. "Your only talent is self-delusion," Saiki was right— the man needed a reality check.

"So, even though I had been offered another office job, I turned it down to start my new life doing street magic." At least Chono looked pumped about it all. "Again, what?" You were just as bewildered as Saiki was, questioning the green-haired man's logic. "If I can save up 1 million yen, I can buy the 'sawing a body' in half trick— then, my wife is sure to come back!"

You shook your head in disappointment; the man had clearly lost his mind, another reason to add to the list of why not everyone should be allowed to procreate.

If left like this, he'd end up a victim of loan sharks or worse. "Don't be so sure," Saiki commented, and you almost thought he was talking to you. He was addressing both. Why would his wife come back if he did that? And how did Chono plan on raising that kind of cash when he had just lost his lovely assistant? "But then I wonder if I chose the wrong path."

'Yes, yes you did.' Saiki thought bluntly, and you agreed mentally. At least the magician finally saw clarity and the error in his ways. 'He needs to quit street magic and get a real job.' You thought back. "Sorry, didn't mean to get so gloomy." Chono apologised, looking up at the two of you.

'What'll it take for him to give up?' You pondered at Saiki's question, bringing your hand up to your chin to think. Maybe showing him an impossible illusion? If it was something he'd never be able to do, he'd quit. "Let's get back to your background as an illusionist and how you knew I had a dove up there." Chono gestured at his hat, and you watched realisation dawn on Saiki. Over what, you had no idea. 'That's it.'

You observed as Saiki wordlessly walked to stand directly parallel to Chono and you, pulling his school bag off his shoulders to hold it in front of him. "Whoa! Gonna pull something out of your bag?" Chono commented as you watched on.

Saiki held up his other hand as his eyes suddenly widened. You raised an eyebrow; this was the most expressive you'd seen him since he found out about your immunity. 'I'll do a trick that's so beyond his ability, he'll realise how far gone he is and give up.' Was that why— Did Saiki take inspiration from your thoughts? He did.

"You're gonna pull out... a dove!" Chono guessed before stating he could pull out a bowling ball himself. 'Hmph.' Saiki's stoic expression remained even if you could feel the smugness emanating from him. Then your eyes widened when he pulled out the hand that was rummaging inside his bag. Nothing could have prepared you for what the psychic did.

He pulled out Michael by the hat on his head, though the man looked like a scrunched-up piece of paper. Saiki placed the old man on the floor, and you watched Chono's eyes bulge from his socket as he gasped. Surely, that would be enough to get the aspiring magician to stop his foolish ways. If you didn't know of Saikis's abilities, you would have become a believer.

"That's impossible!" Chono exclaimed as he fell to his knees, his jaw still slacking. 'Aren't you supposed to say très bien? At least this will make him give up.' Saiki stated as he moved to walk away and turned his back to Chono. You tried not to stare at Saiki's dump truck— and failed.

"Thank you. Now I can see. If your talent was hair, it'd be a flowing mane, while mine is just an eyelash." You stifled a laugh at the example Chono used, and who could blame you? 'I don't quite understand using hair for that metaphor, but at least he's finally—' Saiki didn't get to finish that thought when he turned his head; Chono had already left your side to kneel behind the psychic.

"Make me your apprentice." The scene reminded you of One Punch Man, where Genos asked Saitama to make him a disciple. 'Should've seen it coming.' You only gazed over Saiki's shoulder to watch Michael hold up a 500 yen coin, talking about how he was going to eat a hot cup of soup.

Maybe sticking around and missing the airing of that soap opera was worth it— you had to admit, this was far more entertaining.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Saiki may have walked the same way home as you, but his house came before yours. After the whole fiasco with the magician happened, and you realised your goal of not bumping into said psychic had failed, you chose not to take a detour but to walk with the guy instead.

No point wasting more time, you had reasoned. Your original plan to go home in hopes of catching the last few minutes of the TV show you wanted to watch was a bust because when you neared the Saiki household, you noticed Mrs Saiki standing outside the house in the front yard trimming bushes with gardening scissors.

Before you had a chance to make your getaway after greeting her, she exclaimed that it was far too late in the afternoon to walk home without eating, and even though you found her caring demeanour sweet, you weren't grateful for the sentiment when it meant spending more time with Saiki. He could still kill you, after all. He would never, not when you gave him coffee jelly.

Sure he hadn't done anything yet, but the man did threaten to smite you off this earth the last time you were in his house. Could anyone really blame you for wanting to keep your distance? Try as you might though— you couldn't say no to the lovely woman who was Saiki's mother. Her smile threatened to blind you, and you didn't want to upset her by refusing.

Dinner with the Saikis was eventful, to say the least.

Mrs Saiki had ushered you inside quickly, but her son hadn't followed the two of you in. You didn't question it when she locked the front door. When he did step into the kitchen minutes later, he was followed by his dad.

Mr Saiki didn't acknowledge your existence— instead, he rushed over to his wife. "I can't believe you changed the locks on me again!" He complained, and you felt in that moment that you chose the wrong day to come over.

Were they having marital issues? You swore that the last time you were here they were getting along just fine. What had happened? "I hope you're hungry Ku-Ku. I'm making you breaded pork chops for dinner!" Mrs Saiki chose to ignore her husband, talking to her son instead as if the angry man behind her didn't exist.

"Hang on— now you're choosing to ignore me? Besides, I told you I wanted to have steak tonight!" Mr Saiki pointed his finger at his wife before raising his arm up and down as if he was throwing a tantrum— which he was. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot— but I can boil you a leather shoe." Mrs Saiki replied in a sickly sweet tone, turning back to her cooking. "I don't want a shoe, leather or not!"

You wanted to laugh but thought it wasn't the right time; you chose to snicker to yourself quietly from your seat on the sofa. 'I wonder when it went wrong for them. they used to be so passionate.' You watched on as Mr Saiki claimed his hate for his wife was as wide and deep as the Pacific Ocean, and she retorted by saying she hated him like a fish hated air.

Why did you have to be caught in the middle of this? 'Well, they're still passionate now, but it's a little different.' Saiki was not helping you keep a straight face; his commentary was genuinely the only thing keeping you going.

When the food was ready, you took up the seat next to Saiki at the dining table, staying silent as you dug into the rice with your chopsticks. "Gorge yourself,  guys— I made a ton!" Mrs Saiki said with a smile on her face. "Hey, hey, hey! Hey!" Mr Saiki stood up from his seat at the dining table, slapping his hand on the surface like an angry restaurant customer.

You couldn't blame the guy; you and Saiki had gotten pork chops for dinner. Mr Saiki, however, had received a leather shoe filled to the brim with rice, garnished with gravy on top and chopsticks placed inside it. "Is it good, Ku? Y/n— Oh, honey, would you like something else?" Mrs Saiki gave a closed-eyed grin to her husband, who stood in front of her. "No, because I bet it's just the other shoe."

"Bon Appetit!" Saiki's dad had guessed right; it was another shoe, but it was a blue sneaker. "That's not even from the same pair!" You watched steam flow out of the shoe, wondering how this situation was real. You felt like you had been sucked into some comedy show. 'They've been going at each other for a year.' Your eyebrows shot up at Saiki's revelation, watching on as the couple argued.

Mr Saiki gave up on trying to get his partner to be civil, turning to his son with the cooked leather shoe in his hand. "Hey, Kusuo— use your powers to turn this old shoe into a steak for Daddy." Saiki's thoughts flooded into your brain, stopping you from hearing his dad's rambling.

'So, in case you forgot, this pathetic dude's my dad, Kuniharu Saiki. He's lazy and irresponsible— and asks for help with everything in his life. But surprise, surprise, the more I help, the more useless he gets. So, lately, I've stopped doing him any favours.' Wow, Saiki sure was cold, dissing his father like it was nothing.

'I guessed all that already— Who are you talking to?'

'The audience.'

'...Stop breaking the fourth wall, please.'

Your only reply was a side eye from the psychic, which you ignored as you took another bite of rice. You observed as Mr Saiki stopped rambling as he realised his son wasn't going to listen to him. "What?! How dare you take your mother's side in this?! Do you have any idea how many shoes I have to lick each day to buy that food you're eating now?!!" Mr Saiki shouted, and you silently watched as Saiki continued to eat his food quietly with no change in his expression.

"So, you do like to eat shoes?" You guessed that much was enough for his father to realise his son wasn't going to lift a finger to help. Mr Saiki gave in, "Alright, I'll eat it—" He shovelled the rice into his mouth after he picked up the plate only to shoot up out of his seat seconds later, "It stinks! What did you do to this shoe?! Are you trying to poison your father?!" Mr Saiki exclaimed at his son.

"I'm pretty sure that's how they always smell, dummy," Saiki commented, still eating his rice. You watched as Mrs Saiki addressed her son when he put his bowl down, a shining bright aura around her. Where did that bright light come from? "Hey, Ku? Now, just remember what I've always said. Please don't use your powers for evil."

'This is my mom, Kurumi Saiki.' Mrs Saiki clasped her hand around her son's, "You must only use your powers to help those in need. Or those people who you're certain are genuinely nice—"

'She's a big reason why I haven't let my gifts turn me to the dark side.'

'Is that a Star Wars reference?'

Saiki ignored your question— continuing his not-so-inner monologue, 'She's a caring soul— well, to me.' You were taken aback when the sweet air around Mrs Saiki changed to something sinister. "—But, feel free to use your powers to hurt Daddy." This whole situation was getting more and more preposterous. 'She kinda has a dark side herself.' You could see that.

Mrs Saiki seemed to notice her husband scoffing down Saiki's food when she was distracted around the same time you did, and you watched as she slowly turned and her expression shifted from a smile to a cold glare. "Stop eating Kusuo's dinner, you thieving son of bi—h!" Mrs Saiki looked extremely pissed off, a tick mark appearing on her face. Hang on— she knew how to swear?!

You felt sorry for Mr Saiki, but there was no way you'd get involved; you didn't want his wife to aim her anger at you instead. "That's it! We're taking this outside!" She shouted, and you had to admit the situation was getting interesting. Who would win? Your bets were on Saiki's mom.

'In truth, I could break up this fight whenever I feel like it, but this is something they're going to have to work out themselves.' Did he think things at you on purpose even though he could just not talk to you? You didn't want to admit it, but the idea made something inside you churn. Were the two of you closer than you realised?

You watched Saiki's attention shift from the brawl to the dessert that was placed near him on the dining table when the food was laid out. 'Hm? Coffee-flavoured jelly? ...Hmm, doesn't taste bad— earthy with a slightly citrus finish. Don't let the name fool you— this jelly is a mature, dignified treat.'

You couldn't pay attention to Saiki fangirling over the dessert, too busy watching Mrs Saiki handle her husband like she was some WWE fighter and he was her opponent. She put him in all types of chokeholds before raising him over her head, preparing to throw him. Was now a good time to take your chance and sneak away?

'Better still, when you add just a splash of whole milk, it becomes an entirely new flavoured sensation,' Saiki continued to eat the coffee jelly, turning away from his parents to take another bite, '—and that hint of decadence is everything I ask for in my dessert.'

When you looked back at Saiki, you froze. The fight was long forgotten as you watched the corners of his mouth lift. You realised then, that was the first time you had seen Saiki smile. You didn't want to admit it, but he suited him. Really well, too well, actually.

Saiki didn't get to eat any more of his treat because when he raised his hand to his mouth to consume another spoonful, Mrs Saiki launched her husband across the room, and he crashed into his son, which forced the jelly-filled utensil out of the psychic's hand. You watched the jelly fall from the Saiki's hand in slow motion until you saw a flash of pink.

Saiki had managed to catch the dessert in his mouth before it fell on the carpet. He was now on the floor, and you couldn't help but think about what you had done for the universe to force you to stay at the Saiki household during this whole fiasco.

"You wanted to eat jelly that bad?" Mr Saiki had gotten up, whereas Saiki was still on his stomach on the ground, chewing what was in his mouth. "Forget the jelly— We got bigger problems! Your mothers turned into a monster!" Your eyes travelled to where Mr Saiki was pointing, thinking he was exaggerating.

He wasn't— Mrs Saiki's face had transformed into what could only be described as a Japanese Onii mask from folklore. "Stop running from me, you coward." Even her voice had changed as if she had been possessed. Oh, dear. "You've got to stop her! You're my only hope to stop her reign of terror. Do it! Slay the demon!" You wanted to run your hands down your face in exasperation, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

Mrs Saiki let out a demonic laugh as she grabbed onto the dining table. "You're not leaving 'til I say so!" She exclaimed before she raised the furniture above her head to throw it at her husband— how had the food not slid off? You wanted to leave but didn't want to incur Mrs Saiki's wrath. Mr Saiki tried to shield himself by bringing his arms up to cover his face as he closed his eyes. "Ahhh! Oh god! Ah— Huh?"

When he opened his eyes, Mr Saiki realised the table was floating above his head, all thanks to Saiki using his psychokinesis. "Hey, Kusuo!" Saiki's father went from shocked to smug, smirking as he realised he'd been saved. 'I've got the weirdest parents, I don't really care about stopping another pointless fight, but I can't help myself.' At least Saiki had stepped in, lest the house gets trashed and you get dragged into the war.

"So now you're on your dad's side? But I even made you pork chops!" Mrs Saiki's face was finally back to normal, her voice too, and you let out a sigh of relief. You were still confused by Saiki's comment. 'Why do I say it's pointless? Just wait.'

"I want nothing to do with either of you again!" When Mrs Saiki's voice flooded into your brain, you nearly jumped. 'That's a lie. Truth is, I love them!' Your head whipped to look at Saiki's back, guessing he must have used his powers on you. At least he had helped clear your confusion.

You couldn't help but wonder why she was lying, why she wasn't honest about her true feelings. What was the point of this fight again? 'No matter how hard they try, the voices in their hearts always bubble up. In other words, all these fights they have— are a sham.'

Your brain hurt— because trying to wrap your head around why the couple was acting like they despised each other when they didn't was nothing short of difficult. You rubbed at your temples, Saiki using another power you weren't used to had gotten to you. When Mr Saiki claimed he hated his wife and son, his inner thoughts told you he just wanted to snuggle.

They fought on the surface, but the voices in your head told you that they were just complimenting each other internally. 'Like I said, another pointless fight. There is one person here who has real reason to be upset, me—'

'Don't forget me, buddy. I didn't ask to be dragged into this.'

'—Those weirdos interrupted my dessert. I guess only a psychic can fix this.'

Mr and Mrs Saiki stopped arguing when they started saying they loved each other telepathically. You watched in amusement as they started blushing, getting confused as to why they could hear each other. Realisation dawned on them as they turned to their son, "Kusuo!" They both exclaimed.

'Forced shared telepathy. I used my psychic powers to link their minds at the neural level. In other words, thanks to me, they can now hear each other's thoughts.' Even though it was late, you were somewhat grateful he explained to you how you could hear what his parents were thinking.

Mr and Mrs Saiki told their son to stop his powers because they didn't want the other to realise they were still in love. What a disaster. At least the fighting had stopped. You watched the psychic's parents go from being embarrassed to pronouncing their adoration for each other.

With a hand on his wife's waist, Mr Saiki declared that he loved her, and she did the same. Where had the flowers surrounding them come from? 'Cool. The end.' Saiki deadpanned. Finally, the fighting was over.

While his parents apologised to each other profusely, Saiki went back to his seat at the dining table to finish his dessert. You sat across from him, relieved that the war in his living room had passed. 'What a pain. Normal people are complicated. At least now I can finish my dessert in peace.' This time around, when Saiki smiled, you had the chance to properly observe it.

He looked handsome, you had to admit. You knew the man was attractive, but he looked 100x better when he was showing normal emotions. It was over dessert, but still! Did Saiki have a sweet tooth? Would he smile again if you got him something from the bakery? You shook your head, choosing to find interest in the furniture around the psychic's house.

You didn't know how to feel when you found out that the fight started when Mrs Saiki ate her husband's coffee jelly, overhearing the conclusion of their argument. Was all of that because of some dessert? This was ridiculous.

You gazed on as Saiki's expression fell when Saiki's mom twirled over to her son and snatched the coffee jelly the psychic was eating right out of his hand so she could present it to Mr Saiki. Saiki's smile was replaced by a dark expression as he stared at his hand where his snack had just been.

Oh, no... He was super angry. You ignored the man's father, claiming the dessert was a mature, dignified treat, rummaging through your school bag to find what you needed.

The rumbling of the windows in the Saiki household stopped when you placed the bag on the floor beside your seat and used your hand to slide the coffee jelly you fished out onto Saiki's side of the table. It only took the psychic a few seconds to realise what exactly it was in front of him, and you grinned.

What could you say? The guy looked cute when he was confused. Burdened with the knowledge of how powerful he was, you sometimes forgot that the man sitting across from you was like any other human.

After a beat, he made eye contact with you, and you swore you saw his eyes sparkle. Your smile dropped in slight shock, your lips parting.

"Coffee jelly?"

You gulped, catching your bearings, too distracted to realise he had used his actual voice to talk.

"Yeah, I forgot to eat it at lunch— you can have it, Kusuo."

When you called him by his first name without thinking, having heard it so many times today from his parents— you thought he'd complain. Instead, Saiki grabbed the treat and gingerly peeled back the seal before digging in, a soft smile gracing his face again. You ignored the weird feeling that washed over your heart.

Maybe the psychic wasn't all that bad.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

When night fell, you headed up to Saiki's room. The psychic knew of your inner turmoil of not being able to catch the show you wanted to watch and said his mom had most likely recorded the pilot episode before you two had reached his house. 'I'm only doing this because I don't want to owe you for that coffee jelly.' That was fair; you couldn't fault a man who kept up with his debts.

Grabbing the cassette from his living room, Saiki walked past you and up the stairs. When you stood in confusion, expecting to watch it on the living room TV, he turned to tilt his head toward his bedroom as if telling you to follow him.

'Hurry up. Before I change my mind.'

That is how you found yourself seated on Saiki's bed, with him sitting in the chair he had pulled from his desk, right in front of the television.

He had left the room earlier to change into more suitable clothes: a white sweatshirt with blue sleeves and brown pants. This was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes—when he kidnapped you to interrogate you in your first real meeting, he hadn't bothered to change out of his school uniform. You had to admit that even though he didn't have an eye for colour coordination, he still managed to pull it off.

Truth be told, you were disappointed. The show didn't live up to the promotions you had seen all over social media the past week. You were expecting a love story starring Mikoto Teruhashi. Was it you, or was that name familiar?

What you got was some twisted joke of a romance. The female lead's family died in a car crash, she got cheated on with her sister no less, and she got married to a stranger to save her family only to find out that her ex-boyfriend didn't sleep with another woman; she had walked in on his long-lost twin brother instead. All in one episode.

You felt like you had whiplash with all those plot twists, and honestly, what a letdown— you expected better writing. Sighing, you shifted yourself on Saiki's bed when you felt pins and needles assault your feet. You chose to cross your legs, yawning into your hand. Was now a good time to go home?

"Is binge-watching shows your favourite pastime?" You asked, trying to make conversation between the infomercials. It was better than telling him immediately that you wanted to leave after he went through the trouble of doing you a favour. "I like watching TV. It's one of the few things that can surprise me. I don't know what's coming next because I can't hear the actor's thoughts." The psychic replied.

"Makes sense." You nodded, not really knowing what to say next. "Speaking of next, that new mystery show's supposed to start soon." Saiki moved to sit with one leg on his chair, his arm resting on his knee for support. You nearly lost your mind when he used his index finger to change the channel.

Oh, yeah— he's a psychic; of course, he could do that, you thought, ignoring that your brain had decided to short-circuit on you. "Tonight, you will witness a miracle!" Sure, you heard the host of the TV show talk, but his words didn't quite reach you, too busy looking at his fingers and wondering what else they co— Dear, lord, you needed to go outside and touch the grass, hug a tree, probably both.

Clearing your throat and trying your best to practice self-awareness, you turned to the TV screen, a mixture of green and maroon pixels coming together slowly as the cameraman zoomed in. No way... that man in the distance looked too familiar for your liking. It couldn't be. "What." Saiki mirrored your shock, his eyes widening as he leaned forward in his seat. The host on the TV continued. "A stupendous amazing illusion performed by the former homeless man turned master magician, Uryoko Chono!"

"Now that's Très Bien!" Chono said through the screen, and you watched Saiki's face deadpan. "What did I tell you about TV surprising me?" You didn't have a witty reply for him this time— far too stunned that the magician from that afternoon had managed to get his own segment on live TV mere hours after you met him.

Was that even possible? Then again, after the month you'd had, was there any point in questioning what was and wasn't achievable? "After losing it all, he became a street magician and mastered tricks that others can only dream of!" The host came into view— a mic in his hand, as he praised the green-haired man beside him. You brought a hand up to hold your head, baffled into silence.

"But this isn't just a surprise; it's unbelievable. How is a man who almost killed his dove good enough to be on TV?" Even you didn't know the answer to that. You would've broken the fourth wall and asked the writer in your desperation if Saiki hadn't done it one too many times during his parents' argument. Too bad, even the author of this fanfic doesn't know.

You watched as the pink-haired psychic stared at the screen, gobsmacked. "You might wanna close your mouth, flies will get in. Never mind that— we just saw him before. How's he gotten on TV so soon?"

"Blame the author; it's for plot convenience." Finding out your guess was correct brought you anything but relief. You exhaled in exasperation, a new headache forming in your skull. "There you go, breaking the fourth wall again." You commented, shaking your head as you tutted at him. "What I'm attempting tonight is the most dangerous escape you'll ever see!" Chono's voice coming from the TV filled the room.

Your face slowly lost its colour as they showed snippets of what was to come. A box, chains, then knives, followed by a drop, fire and— was that a bulldozer?! You were sure of it now; the green-haired magician was toast. "No way he's this good." Saiki had taken your advice and shut his mouth; it was no longer hanging open. You side-eyed him from the bed, "He's a goner."

"But live or not, they'd never put someone on TV that might get hurt, right?" You shook your head to yourself; they would— they had. "Don't be too sure. If he dies, the show's view count will skyrocket." You could already see the hashtags trending on Twitter X.

The camera panned to the magician in question. "As you can see, folks, Chono's hands and feet are both shackled. As he makes his way to the crate— Oh no, he fell!" You observed as Chono faceplanted and kissed the floor. Was this second-hand embarrassment you felt? "Just a trip; he should be fine." You weren't sure you fully believed that statement, and by the sound of it, neither did Saiki.

"He's safely inside the box. And now, Mr Micheal— Chono's formerly homeless assistant, will lock him in." You could only watch on in horror as realisation dawned over the magician's face, and he exclaimed to wait— that he wasn't ready. You didn't like where this was going. From the tricks you had seen that afternoon, you highly doubted that the green-haired man could pull this off. He wasn't going to make it.

"Him screaming isn't a good sign. Neither is all that banging he's doing." Saiki's face paled at the implication. "Thank you for that, Captain obvious." The psychic only glared at you, and you were too busy biting your fist while watching the TV to notice. The host told the audience that Chono only had 5 minutes to escape or the box would be destroyed with him in it. The camera cut to a shot of the timer counting down.

"I'm sceptical he can do this." So were you. There was only 3 minutes left. "Should I help? I don't even think I can. I'm not close enough to jump in and save him without being seen." You were on the edge of your seat.

Two minutes left. "Then again, if he fails, he dies, and I can't have that happen." You imagined what was to come, the TV announcing that Chono was burning alive inside the crate.

"It would ruin my night." You swore the psychic was just talking to himself at that point. At least Saiki cared; the boy did have a heart, after all. The pink-haired psychic stood up from where he was sitting on the chair. "If he fails, the footage would cut into my mystery show—" You took your statement back; he was heartless. "Is there a way to teleport in without getting on TV? ...Yes. The one place the camera can't find me— inside the box itself."

With that, Saiki was gone. He vanished into thin air; and when your mind finally caught up with the fact that he could teleport, you guessed he was now inside the box. At least he was doing something, even if his heart wasn't quite in the right place. You just hoped he didn't get himself caught.

All alone in the room, you could only keep your eyes glued to the screen, waiting with bated breath. 'Kusuo?' You hoped he could hear you over everyone else's thoughts, hoped he was within range. He did, and he was.

'He's not here.'

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard his voice reverberate in your head. Then, his words hit you.

'What do you mean he's not there?!'

'...He really has gotten better. I mean he's not here, L/n— the banging was coming from a CD player.'

So Chono hadn't even been inside the box when they chained it up? Why wasn't Saiki back then? There was no point in him staying there. The 5-minute timer was up, and you watched Michael come into view, struggling to hold the swords he was about to pierce the crate with.

'Hurry, Kusuo— you need to come back.' You winced at the heavy concern lacing your voice— thought?

'I can't. I have to think fast; I can't just teleport back out. Th at power needs to be recharged for 3 minutes before I can use it again.'

You watched as the magician's assistant started to put the swords in one by one. 'Oh, crap.' 17 more to go.

'You still there?'

You couldn't help but stress when he didn't respond. Chewing on your bottom lip, you tried not to think about the cold sweat at the idea of Saiki not making it out. 3 swords left. How did Saiki plan to survive this one?

'Yeah. No one could— except me. I dislocated almost every joint in my body.'

With just a few words from Saiki, you felt like a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. The relief you felt was short-lived, though, as dread pooled inside your stomach at his words.

'Are you okay?!'

'I'm not gonna lie— it hurts.'

You wracked your brain to try to find a way to help him, but you came up empty. Sure, you wanted nothing to do with him, but you weren't comfortable knowing he was in pain. Why? You had no idea. You chose to blame common human decency, but the feeling of your heart sinking suggested otherwise.

You watched as the TV crew hooked a line to the crate before it was announced that a crane would lift it and drop it from a 30-metre height. You raised your hands to cover your face because you weren't sure you wanted to see, only for you to move your fingers so you could peer at the screen seconds later.

'The only way to avoid certain death... is...' You watched the crate collide with the floor, the bottom of it crumpling from the impact. '...To jump. Flawless timing.'

You stopped tensing, visibly relaxing, when you heard Saiki in your head again, never more grateful than now for his telepathy. He managed to save himself again, and you hadn't appreciated his powers more than in that moment. After the dust from the crash settled, the host on TV announced that the box would be set on fire. You furrowed your eyebrows— did they really need to go that far? It was too much overkill, in your opinion.

'Didn't even get a chance to catch my breath. At least with all the hot weather lately, I've been able to hone my psychic powers over temperature.' You honestly didn't know how to feel when the support crew doused the crate in gasoline, lit a match and set the box alight— only for the host of the show to reveal that fire wasn't the final boss.

'There's more?'

How was he planning on getting out in time when he hadn't passed his 3-minute limitation over teleportation? Wait— how had the crew managed to do so much damage in that time window? The host confirmed your fears when they brought in a yellow steamroller. No way— were they planning to run over the box and flatten it completely, with Saiki still inside?!

You watched the stream roller reverse and then drive over the box, crushing it under its wheels. You watched silently, your heart beating out of your chest in worry. The host asked the audience how anyone could survive inside the box— until lights turned on behind him, showcasing Chono.

"Hold on, who is that I see? It's the miraculous illusionist himself, Uryoko Chono! He's alive!" The crowd went wild, breaking out into applause and screams at the trick. You couldn't care less! Where was Saiki?! Was he okay?!!

'How annoying. His wasn't the only great escape, but I got lucky. The soil was extra soft.'

It was your turn to go radio silent.

'...Did you dig a hole like some groundhog?'

You were just happy he was safe. God forbid you had to live with the fact that Saiki died and you had witnessed it. Then again, he was an all-powerful psychic— what did you expect? Of course, he'd make it out alive.

'I know. I said I liked TV because it can still surprise me— but this is too much.' You couldn't help but snort at the comment; his dry humour was growing on you. Saiki was right; the amount of turmoil the day involved was not something you had mentally prepared yourself to handle. Exhaustion took over you, and you let yourself fall back onto Saiki's bed.

Was Saiki's life always like this? Downright disastrous to the point where it was funny? You kinda felt sorry for him. "Très Bien, right?" Chono exclaimed when the host stated that the escape was great. You exhaled, placing your hands on your stomach and trying to relax.

"Hey, stick around for what's next—" Your head shot up, recognising the voice from the countless trailers you had seen for months plastered every time you opened an app. It was the male lead of the new mystery show everyone was looking forward to.

Your mind worked at a million miles per hour, and you were sure there were drawings of algebra floating around you. Saiki was a psychic, and if he was near the new show's star, he'd no doubt hear spoilers from the actor.

'Kusuo, come back.'

'I can't; I still have 13 seconds to go.'

Great. The show he was looking forward to, the reason he went to save Chono, would be spoilt because he chose to be a good human being. All because the lead actor was around, and of course, the guy knew what was to come— he had just finished filming it.

You made a decision then, one you knew you'd regret. Concentrating on controlling your breathing, you forced your mind to go blank. Then you imagined Saiki at the park he had transported to so he could save a certain magician.

You clenched your jaw. Saiki wasn't too far away, and if you used your immunity on him, it'd work, right? You had to try, at least. You reached out your hand in your mind, and when it came into contact with his shoulder, you saw what you were looking for.

The familiar thin white strings, millions of them shooting off from his temples in all different directions and disappearing into the distance when your eyes tried to follow them. You had no doubt they were the strings that connected Saiki's mind to anyone in a 200-metre radius.

With your hand still on Saiki, you imagined the actor who starred in the show's premiere as the love interest. That's when you found the thin line connecting the two, all the others melting in front of you as you forced yourself to focus. You had to hurry; you didn't have much time.

"The world premiere of a mystery called, 'Love Fantasy.'" You tried to dismiss the voice of the actor; he sounded like he was speaking from right next to you, and damn it, if his yapping wasn't as distracting as it felt. "My character will try to uncover the mystery of his girlfriend's death."

You clenched your jaw at the pain invading your skull, ignoring it as you reached out, using your index and middle finger as make-shift scissors, closing the two to cut the string. All the while, you questioned why you had chosen to use your talents for the psychic. Oh, yeah— it was because you felt bad for the guy.

The headache you experienced for the better half of the day skyrocketed when you opened your eyes. Damn, it hurt. You wished you had stayed on Saiki's bed.

As your vision began to swim, a familiar wave of nausea hit you. You felt the ground shift beneath you, unable to do anything as you realised you would fall face-first into Saiki's table. You hoped it wouldn't bruise. Closing your eyes, you braced for impact, expecting pain.

When it didn't come, you forced your eyelids to open, using the last ounce of energy you had left. Why did they have to feel so heavy? You still couldn't see clearly, but what you could tell was that someone had caught you before you kissed Saiki's carpet.

Your body was limp; try as you might, you couldn't get your limbs to listen to you. It hurt to breathe; the sharp pain in your ribs ensured that. You couldn't even raise your head to see who had caught you. Was it Saiki's dad? Had to be.

"...od grief... what happene..." You strained your ears to hear whoever was talking to you, to no avail. You scrunched your eyes shut when another wave of nausea hit you. You felt yourself getting picked up before being placed on something soft. The bed?

You took in sharp breaths, trying to ease the pain. No such luck. When you felt a hand on your forehead, you opened and squinted your eyes to see. Even with your fuzzy vision, you knew you recognised the pink you saw.

'Kusuo?' You thought at the psychic, hoping you had guessed right. 'Yes?' The relief that filled you when the pain seemed to ease at the sound of Saiki's voice in your head— was incomparable.

'Is that you?' A brief pause followed, and he answered before you could think of anything else. 'Who else? How did this happen?' Right, stupid question to ask. You closed your eyes again, assuming he asked about your deteriorating condition. 'I used nullification on you.'

Silence followed for a few seconds, and you missed Saiki's voice inside your brain. 'Why?' Was all he had asked, and you looked at him. You could see his face clearly now, and if you didn't feel like you would throw up the food Mrs Saiki had made for you earlier, you were sure you'd be flushed.

He was so close— you could feel his exhales fan your neck. You noticed the faint wrinkle in between his eyebrows. You returned to looking at his eyes, trying to name the emotion. Worry. 'Because you were looking forward to watching the show, and that actor would have spoilt it by accident.'

You shut your lids, feeling sheepish when you said it aloud; it wasn't like it was your job to care to begin with— but you did, and you couldn't understand why. That question would have to wait; first, you had to get better.

You didn't see Saiki move so much as you felt it. The moment he tried to lift himself off you, your stomach churned, and Saiki halted altogether. Your tense muscles relaxed as the pain dulled with the psychic's gesture. You opened your eyes to look at him, finding him looking at you already.

Granted, the pain wasn't as bad as the last few times, but you still appreciated the action. He broke the silence first, the staring contest between you two along with it as he looked away. 'Good grief. Stop doing troublesome things.' Was all he replied with, and you had half a mind to furrow your eyebrows in disbelief when you realised he was referring to your last comment to him. Your lips parted to shoot a retort at him, and that's when you saw it.

The corners of his mouth twitched. You almost thought it was a trick of the light in your peripherals until you looked at his lips.

Utterly shell-shocked, your mouth gaped open at the sight. Was Saiki smiling at you? Where was the coffee jelly? It was gone with a flash, replaced by his iconic deadpan. 'I was not.' He totally was! What a tsundere— not even able to admit that some part of him was low-key touched that you had done something for him out of consideration. 'I'm not touched; what you did was stupid. You have a fever.' You could only huff at Saiki's statement with the last of your energy.

'Yeah, that's normal. I mean, you're the most powerful psychic out there, and another person was involved.' You shouldn't have expected anything less. Turning off your immunity to using your nullification and severing a connection between two people was a giant leap. When Saiki didn't respond, you couldn't help the thought that came to mind. 'So if two plus two is four, and five plus five is ten, then...'

Saiki's eyes narrowed once he registered your words. 'I want you to know I only tolerate that reference because you're sick. You didn't even get it right.' You chuckled softly at his comment, ribs not yet ready for a full laugh. Lips stretching into a grin from his leniency or his last statement, you weren't sure. Your cheeks hurt, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. That was until you realised how cold you felt, shivering when goosebumps appeared over your arms.

You hadn't felt like this since childhood, but could you be surprised at your situation? Especially when it involved the world's most potent psychic to ever live. It was no surprise that the fevers you experienced as a child when Saiki was running around changing human biology with crazy hair colours would make a comeback. You went back to rest your eyes.

You were in no position to retaliate when Saiki picked you up and transported the two of you into your bedroom. The familiar feeling of your mattress helped relax your body some more.

'I'm leaving the second I can transport again.'

You said nothing as the pink-haired boy quickly tucked you under the covers and placed a cold compress on your forehead. He waited until your hand was secured to it before he backed away.

You half expected him to kiss your forehead like you had seen in all the romance manga you had read— where the female lead got sick, and the male lead took care of her. No kiss was exchanged, to your disappointment.

'Thank you.' That was all you could think of him, not knowing what other way to express your gratitude. He was silent for a bit, then he turned his back to you, and just like that, he was gone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair— what a day.

You were too busy dealing with your inner turmoil to realise that Saiki had stayed for more than three minutes.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Nothing had changed the next day at school— and you were glad for it somewhat. You had thought things between you and Saiki would be awkward.

They weren't; when he saw you that morning, all he had done was nod at you, acknowledging your existence before he turned to face the blackboard at the front of the class. You ignored your disappointment; it's not like you expected him to be your best friend or something.

When the school bell signalled the end of the academic day, you got ready to pack your things and leave. That was until you noticed a light blue-haired boy walking up to Saiki, who was in front of you, also shoving his books in his bag so he could make his getaway. Too late.

"Guess what? I've been summoned." You deadpanned at Kaidou's statement, something you were sure you picked up from Saiki. Was he rubbing off on you? Nah, no way. Not possible. "If I told you why, I'd have to kill you both."

Your expression relaxed when Kaidou's eyes met yours, and you gave him a confused smile, signalling one thing. 'I have no idea what you're on about.' You watched as the blue-haired boy puffed his chest like some peacock.

"But for now, let's just say the world's in store for some pretty big changes." With that, Kaidou waddled away like some penguin. What was with that walk, and why were his hips swaying side to side as he continued down the hallway? Shakira, es tu? PK couture, you mused to yourself— he was going for a catwalk.

"What? Did he make a friend?" Saiki asked, and you were surprised when he turned his head to the right to make eye contact with you. You looked back at him, still leaning half your body out of the classroom with your hands on the door frame. You simply shrugged your shoulders before the both of you gazed at where Kaidou had turned the corner.

When Saiki moved forward in the same direction, you took a step toward him. "Where are you going?" You asked, mind already guessing the answer. Saiki looked over his shoulder at you, "I'm going after him because I'm curious." He stated before continuing down the hallway. You decided you were too, so you followed in tow.

The two of you spotted Kaidou not long after. The light blue-haired boy walked to the doors leading to the storage room on the second floor. He whipped his head around to see if anyone else was about. You didn't expect what came next; you were caught off guard when Saiki pulled on your arm to hide the two of you behind a wall.

You saw a flash of pink before you were brought face to face with the guy's chest, and when you looked up, you realised he was staring down at you. Damn, he had a sharp jawline. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Saiki was sculpted by the likes of Micheal Angelo himself. You felt your ears burn and chose to ignore them. Why did he have to be so close, and why was he caging you against the wall?

"It'll be troublesome if he sees us," Saiki stated as he stepped away from you. You shook your head to eliminate the thoughts swirling through your mind before the two of you peered at the blue-haired boy from your hidden spot. "Thurisaz, isaz, hagalaz, sowilo, gebo, fehu." You couldn't help but think Kaidou sounded like he was summoning a demon. Was it that Jet Black Wings nonsense again?

When the door opened, the light blue-haired boy walked in. Saiki left your side and started to walk over to the door where Kaidou had been moments earlier. You followed soon after, and you strained your ears to hear what was happening in the room.

The following 5 minutes were nothing but painful. You heard two voices; one was Kiadou's, and the other, you guessed, was a student who must have been his friend.

You and Saiki listened as the blue-haired boy claimed it was hard to believe that he used to be part of the Dark Reunion before he figured out that the organisation was evil, went rogue, performed some technique when he got cornered and managed to transmigrate into Shun Kaidou's body when he was unborn.

Was this some— sort of weird realistic roleplay? Sure, having his fantasies come true through acting was nice, but you weren't sure it was a good idea to spur on his delusions. Kaidou was too far gone already. His 'friend' told him they would do anything to help Kaidou regain his memories because his power was needed.

Who was 'they'? You couldn't help but question the whole situation. Something about it felt sketchy. Kaidou seemed to have the same thought, wondering who his friend was referring to.

Apparently, there were four other phantoms in the room. It got weirder and weirder. You had to give it to both of them; you wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face if you were in there to save your life. The 'friend' claimed that if Kaidou couldn't see them, he could never help.

Kaidou jumped to try and save face, saying he could see the phantoms. What a joke. You weren't so curious anymore; now you just wanted to leave. You stopped paying attention to the conversation until you heard the 'friend' exclaim, "Stop!" followed by, "Mannaz, ingwaz, wunjo!"

Great, someone else who liked to talk in gibberish. You cringed when you heard Kaidou's friend state that the Dark Reunion had gotten into the room and killed the four phantoms. Since when could phantoms die? Wasn't all of this too much? You had to commend the 'friend' at least— for staying in character so long.

The friend stated they needed to create a barrier to protect them before telling Kaidou to place all metal objects into the bag since it would interfere. Now, things were getting interesting. When Kaidou asked if the change had to be given as well, that's when the realisation hit.

The whole thing was a scam. That kid was trying to steal all of Kaidou's money under the guise of roleplay! What was worse— was that the poor blue-haired boy believed the whole thing was real. The only thing Kaidou actually got out of the charade was losing his wallet. Poor guy didn't even get to take his train pass back. This new friend of his was pure evil.

'Good grief.' You heard Saiki think at you, 'Good grief, indeed.'

The 'friend' told Kaidou that the Jet Black Wings was a saviour and to come back at the same time tomorrow. Something about not forgetting to do the sworn ally absolution. Panic engulfed you when you heard the doorknob turn.

Looking left to right hurriedly, you barely had a chance to notice that Saiki wrapped a hand around your waist and teleported you inside the room. When your gaze refocused, you realised you were behind some sort of curtain. You had no idea why Saiki didn't decide to handle things on his own, instead opting to take you with him.

'Why couldn't you have just left me out there? I don't want to get involved—' You stopped mid-thought when Saiki looked down at you and glared. The audacity he had! To not only drag you into this mess but to shut you down when you rightfully complained? Meanie. You huffed to yourself in annoyance but stayed quiet nonetheless.

You proceeded to fold your arms over your chest, only to realise that in your exasperation, you hadn't noticed Saiki was still holding onto you. He stepped away, putting distance between you two the second the thought crossed your mind, something you tried not to be hurt over. Why? You didn't quite understand yourself.

You didn't have time to ponder anything else; the guy who scammed Kaidou stole your attention when he spoke up from behind the curtain. "That guy and his stupid fantasies are the best thing ever. He couldn't tell the absolution was my homework! All I had to do was play along with him. I even got the idiot to give me his wallet!" What a disaster. Poor Kaidou got ripped off and taken advantage of, all because of his love for make-believe.

'What a pain. Kaidou, as your one friend, I'm telling you— do a better job choosing your other friends.' The exasperation in Saiki's voice was palpable. How would you break the news to the poor blue-haired boy? That his new friend was a good-for-nothing liar.

The sad excuse of a swindler was still gushing over how he had tricked Kaidou, and you could only shake your head. Would dumping the truth work better? Or hinting at it? Saiki already had a plan in mind, you realised, as the lights turned off in the room. "What the? Who did that?" The scammer asked.

"Dark reunion."

What happened to the guy in glasses next was not spoken of after.

When Kaidou dragged the both of you to the same room the day after, saying to keep it a secret no matter what— the whole place was trashed, and the words dark reunion were plastered on the wall. The graffiti had been your handiwork.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

"Hey buddy, ready for the beach? I was walking by, and I saw the last name Saiki on the mailbox, so I figured this must be where ol' Kusuo lives." Nendou stood on the step to Saiki's household, explaining himself as he pointed at the mailbox behind him, a blow-up dolphin in his other hand. He was dressed for the day, clad in a red shirt with floral patterns and shorts.

You made eye contact with Saiki only to get a glare back. You looked off to the side, feeling like you were in trouble. 'Why are you here?' He thought at you, and what an excellent question, indeed. If only you had stayed home, Nendou wouldn't have spotted you on the streets and dragged you along for a day by the seaside. You looked to Saiki again, 'I didn't choose to come here of my own free will.'

You were still somewhat peeved that you didn't get a say in the matter. Nendou had assumed a yes from you and decided for himself that you would accompany him, dragging you by the arm down the streets of your peaceful little town. You hadn't paid much attention to where he was taking you until he neared Saiki's neighbourhood, and before you could steer him in a different direction, he noticed a name on a mailbox. The rest was history.

"Ku— Ku— Kusuo, is this your friend?" For a second, you thought Mrs Saiki was terrified of Nendou. Something you wouldn't fault her for; he did look like a gangster, after all. "He's not my friend." Saiki's comment fell on deaf ears as Mrs Saiki burst into tears, a handkerchief manifesting into her hands out of nowhere. "Oh, dear! My little boy finally has another friend! In less than a week, too— I'm so happy!"

This was definitely one of the reasons why you loved Saiki's mom; she was just too precious. "Sorry girly girl, but me and him ain't friends— we're best buddies!" Mrs Saiki started weeping into her handkerchief again, "Oh, dear! My little boy's finally getting a normal life!" You wanted to comfort her but thought better of it since she was crying tears of joy and not sadness.

"I never knew you had a sister, pal." Nendou's comment practically made Mrs Saiki putty in his hands. She gushed about how the wannabe gangster thought she was young enough to look like Saiki's sister. You couldn't tell if Nendou was buttering her up or if he was being serious. Knowing him, it was probably the latter.

'How many times is he going to make her cry?' Saiki wondered from next to you. 'At least they're tears of happiness.' A warm smile stretched on your lips; the woman needed to be protected at all costs. Movement in your peripherals broke you from your thoughts. You turned to Saiki, who was now standing beside you, looking up at him when you felt his stare out your peripherals.

His lips parted as if he was about to say something when Saiki's mom commented that Nendou taking Saiki to the beach sounded like fun. "Uh, yeah— I'm not going." The smile on Mrs Saiki's face disappeared in an instant, and the glare she shot Saiki's way sent chills down your spine. "Your best buddy went out of his way to ask you in person. You're going to the beach, Kusuo."

"Oh, dear."

A snicker fell out your lips, and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand so as to not draw attention to yourself. By then, it was too late; your plans to quietly try and slip away from the group were foiled by your own hands. Saiki's mom finally noticed you, pushing her son aside so she could hug you.

For a moment, you wondered if you could spend the afternoon with Mrs Saiki, until you caught sight of her esper son over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. You knew what that look meant, but still, he chose to invade the privacy of your mind yet again to think at you, 'Oh, no, you don't. You're coming.'

Mrs Saiki continued to gush over you, and the plan to spend a lazy day indoors seemed to be further and further away.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

That's how you and Saiki ended up going to the beach.

Kaidou had joined the group as well, a fact you pitied when you observed how much Nendou teased him about having a phobia of the sea. You watched from your seat on the blanket next to Saiki as Kaidou denied it all, fresh tears in his eyes. "N—no. Th—that's not true. I know how to swim, jerk! I—I'm not afraid of the water." You almost felt bad for him; why was he here again?

'Well, he's turned on the waterworks.' Ironic. Saiki's comment nearly made you choke on your drink, and you coughed. The psychic's hand on your back, patting lightly, surprised you, to say the least, but you welcomed it. Anything to clear your airways. You chalked up the help to him feeling guilty.

You watched as Kaidou proceeded to enter the sea, only to slip and start drowning in inch-deep water. That's when you decided the second-hand embarrassment was too much to handle, placing your drink down to stand up and walk over to the sea.

You stopped in the middle of your task, turning to Saiki, who stared you down. 'Yes, I'm leaving you here. You're on your own, nerd.' You thought at him, glancing between Saiki and his book. He stayed silent, only glaring at you over his glasses. You could tell what he was thinking already; how could you just leave him to deal with everyone else? Hah— so long, sucker!

You looked from Saiki to Hairo whose pants had slipped when he ran to save Kaidou from drowning, Nendou— who stared at the other girls on the beach with a blush and smirk on his face, then back to the psychic.

'Yeah, I'm not about to watch any more of their shenanigans; I'm out of here.'

You greeted Hairo briefly and walked towards the water in time to overhear that the red-haired boy had decided to volunteer as a lifeguard over the summer. Walking further into the water, you stopped when you couldn't feel the sand underneath your feet and started to swim further out until the voices of your classmates sounded distant enough that you couldn't make out the words.

Sighing, you floated on your back and stared up at the sun. The weather was way too warm, and you hated the heat because of how it caused you to sweat. At least now you could have some peace and quiet; your social battery had run out a while back.

The silence didn't last long, you felt a ripple in the water and opened one eye, only to realise the cause was Saiki. He sat on a blue swimming donut that had sun patterns on it. That's when you noticed he was shirtless, only wearing his yellow swimming trunks, and you tried not to stare, opting to look at the beach instead, coughing awkwardly.

You watched as a group of girls ran across the sand— Nendou not far behind, chasing them. 'I don't want people knowing I'm with him.' You had to agree with Saiki; being associated with Nendou was never a good thing. Looking away from the girls fleeing in terror on the beach, you turned back to the young esper.

'I get that— but why did you have to come here?'

'I draw less attention when I'm with you than when I'm by myself.'

'So, you're using me?'

'... Don't make it weird.'

When you made the comment, your mind had not been in the gutter, but now it certainly was. There was a brief pause before Saiki looked back at the beach. He sighed and closed his eyes— then he tilted his float sideways until his body crashed against the water. You shot up, no longer floating on your back. You kicked your legs to stay above the waves and looked around to see if you could spot Saiki who was no longer on the water donut.

'You won't find me, I'm all the way at the bottom. When I want to be alone or get some serious thinking done, I come down here. I find the seafloor relaxing.'

You jumped in your skin at the sound of his voice in your head, not yet used to hearing it without seeing him. You raised an eyebrow to yourself when your brain registered what he had said. You didn't get the chance to reply to him, the sound of Nendou shouting stealing your attention.

"Saiki! You going pee-pee?!"

'Oh man, next time, I'll have to go deeper. Better go back before they start looking.'

You stopped paying attention to what Saiki was thinking at you when you noticed a girl in the water. Was she... She was drowning!

Your body moved before you could think. The water around you splashed as you started swimming, trying to get to her as fast as you could. You heard Nendou and Kaidou in the distance. Now, hang on a minute, you swore the blue-haired boy had no idea how to swim— how had he made it this far out? As if on cue, Kaidou started drowning as well, and you watched in horror.

You relaxed somewhat when you watched Nendou save the idiot, carrying him on his back. By then, you had made it to the girl, but the other two boys were still making their way towards you. You tried to grab onto her to save her, only for her to jump on you in her panic. She clawed her way up, trying to get on your shoulders.

You realised then that both of you were screwed. "No! Don't—" You didn't get to finish your sentence as you felt your body give way under her weight, water filling your nose instantly.

You ended up underwater along with the girl, your legs spent and tired. Surely, this wasn't how things ended. You had so much left to do— so many sites to see! Your mind went into overdrive as you sank deeper.

When you felt something brush against your feet under the water, you nearly lost it; the safety of your classmates and the random girl next to you be damned!

You calmed down when you recognised the pink underneath the clear waves. 'What a pain. Everyone around me is so needy.'

Saiki placed his hands on your waist and effortlessly lifted you until your head was above water. Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and your legs started kicking lightly to keep you afloat. You looked around until your eyes landed on Nendou, who was standing on the water as if it was a solid surface, with Hairo, Kaidou and the drowning girl from earlier on his back.

"What— Nendou! You're walking on water!" Hairo exclaimed as he looked down. "When'd you learn how to do that?!" Kaidou chimed in, and you already knew the answer. It was Saiki, using his strength to lift them all so they wouldn't drown. You watched as all five four of them sped off towards the sand.

'See? I told him he'd have more luck walking on water than picking up girls.'

You snorted to yourself at Saiki's comment before tilting your body so you were on your back, letting the waves carry you as you caught your breath. You closed your eyes, exhaustion kicking in as the adrenaline ran out— only to open when you felt the water move, making you rock.

You squinted as the sun invaded your gaze, only for you to see Saiki. He turned around in the water, showing you his back, "Get on. I'll carry you to the beach." His closed statement left no room for discussion, and even if you had it in you to retort, you were too tired to argue.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, mindful not to squeeze too hard and rested your head on his warm back as he swam to shore. You tried not to pay attention to how close the two of you were or how you could feel his body heat since he didn't have a top on.

After drying off, you watched as the girl who nearly drowned you, apologised to Nendou. "Sorry I joked about how ugly your face is." She said, and you guessed it was her way of thanking him for saving her.

"Hmph, I'm glad you didn't ask for her number in return for your heroics," Kaidou said, giving the wannabe gangster a nod of approval when he returned as you packed up to leave. "Heh, I try to be a gentleman, but if that hottie fell in love with me, I'm not gonna turn her down," Nendou replied, closing his eyes as if he was proud. You had to give it to him, the man had confidence. You walked alongside Saiki as the group left Hairo and the girl.

"She wouldn't," Kaidou whispered under his breath, a smirk on his face. Nendou whipped his head around to shout at him. "What'd you say?!"

The day at the beach ended, and you could finally go home.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

bonus:

After the four of you got back in town, Nendou and Kaidou split off so they could head home. Truth be told, that was the plan for you as well until Saiki stopped you.

"Do you want to come back to my house?" You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow at him at the suggestion. You were sure he thought of you as a nuisance like everyone else, yet here he was— inviting you to his place.

"Don't get any weird ideas. Mom told me to bring you back for dinner. She likes having you around." Mrs Saiki hadn't specifically told him to bring you back, but Saiki did know that she liked your company.

A small smile graced your face at the sentiment. Being liked by someone else's parents was a different type of validation. You shrugged and walked beside him back to the Saiki Household, the day not yet over.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part -  anemoia (coming soon!)

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

2025 taglist:

@too-many-fandoms666 @nikolaisfingersinfyodorsmouth @crescent-bluemoon @beehoppingaround @budijojo @shrewbles @art-missy @zenmiren

comment below to be added <3

[all444glo]

FERTILIZER

🎞️|| Money was never the problem. Not really. You weren’t broke, you just acted like it. Jared constantly showed his love with gifts, however you grew up seeing generosity as leverage. The argument was unfortunately inevitable.

⚠️|| financial trauma, emotional conflict,soft dom!male oral (f receiving), trauma reflection, unresolved family dynamics, post-argument intimacy, communication issues, emotional vulnerability, one-sided silent treatment, Jared trying to make it right with head lol

“Well I heard that the flowers love to hear you sing, baby girl Put your ear to my heart, bet you won't hear anything Can I get you to sing baby? Give me something in E major? Pretty darling, your silence is driving me crazy”

The number one divisor between couples is money.
Not infidelity.
Not timing.
Not even sex.
Money.

It breaks friendships, ruins bloodlines, and chips away at love until all that’s left is resentment. You’d seen what it looked like for a woman to owe a man—watched your mama carry debt that didn’t have interest, just intention. Gifts with strings hidden under the ribbon. Help that came with conditions. You learned early that some men give just to feel entitled to take.

But it wasn’t just the men.

Your mother made you feel like you owed her, too. Like love had to be repaid. She’d say it in passing—“After everything I sacrificed”—but you felt it. In the way she’d guilt you for wanting anything she didn’t hand you first. In the way her love came tucked in expectation. You learned to say thank you before you even wanted something. You learned to perform gratitude.

So when you got with Jared, you made two promises to yourself:
1. Don’t let money ruin this.
2. Don’t ever feel like love has to come with conditions again.

You weren’t broke. Not even close. You were a research assistant, top of your class, just two years from applying to pediatrics programs. You knew how to stretch a check, how to live like you had less than you did because that kept you grounded. Safe. In control.

You grew up counting change before counting blessings. Even now—with a steady income, your own place, a man who would give you the world if you asked—you still pinched pennies like the rug could get pulled from under you any second. You ran mental math when you shopped, saved leftovers religiously, flinched at luxury like it might disappear if you got too comfortable.

It wasn’t about pride.
It was about survival.

And Jared? Jared had a Nike deal and a roster spot.

He came from a middle-class family—nothing wild, but stable. His parents showed love through giving, through consistency. They gave without needing applause. To him, your frugality was... cute. A bit. A personality quirk. He didn’t get that it was trauma. That every time he gave without asking, it kind of enraged you.

His love language was giving. Grand, expensive, thoughtful giving. You tried not to take that personally, but it did something to your spirit every time he handed you a gift that cost more than your rent.

Like tonight.

You came home from a twelve-hour shift to find a Louis Vuitton luggage set laid out across the bed like a showroom display. Inside: full-sized versions of every product you’d mentioned running out of. Moisturizer, bronzer, a new version of the expired palette you’d been using for years, three of those $42 lip glosses you were gonna wait until next your paycheck to replace. Sephora and Ulta gift cards tucked neatly in each pouch.

You didn’t mean to ruin the moment.

You didn’t mean to start a fight.

But your chest tightened. You blinked hard. Then you whispered, “How much was all of this?”

And all hell broke loose.

“I just asked a question, Jared.”

“Nah, you rolled your eyes, looked up the price, and then made that little face you always make like I slapped your mother.”

“Because it’s too much! I told you, I don’t want you doing all that.”

“You don’t want me doing that. You’d take those bags from anyone else.”

“Now we just saying anything.”

“Well then help me rationalize it, cause I’m having a hard time—”

“I don’t wanna owe you—”

“Owe me? I’m your boyfriend?”

“Jared, it’s just too much—”

“Too much what? Love? Effort?”

“No. Money.”

He blinked. Scoffed. “So you’re mad I pay attention?”

“I’m mad you won’t listen. I don’t want to be spoiled like this, Jared.”

“You don’t want to be loved like this. That’s what you really mean.”

You went quiet. He didn’t.

“Nah, cause you always feel attacked whenever I do something for you—even if it doesn’t involve money. You always got one foot out like I’m just gon’ dip. That’s not love, that’s paranoia.”

“And what if I am paranoid? You think I asked to be like this?”

“No, you didn’t ask—but you don’t do shit to fix it, Y/N. That’s the issue.”

You didn’t speak for hours after that. Not even in passing.

He was in the game room, yelling into his headset—something about lag and “gettin’ smoked off rip.” You were curled up on the balcony in a sundress, earbuds in, sun melting into the skyline.

But your mind was louder than your music.

You were mad, but not just at him.

You were mad that he was right.

Mad that the truth hurt.

Because yeah, Jared triggered you, often even—but you hadn’t done much to heal it either. You just carried it around, hid it, “accepted it”, wrapped your whole personality in it like it was a trait. And when someone tried to push past it, even gently—you exploded.

He never pushed. Never asked for your childhood story. But he noticed. The way you reacted to certain things too softly or too sharply. The way your silence screamed. He’d seen it before—in your jaw when he did the bare minimum, your eyes when favors came without an expected return date. He didn’t know the details, but he knew enough to tread lightly.

And still—you made him pay for loving you the only way he knew how.

You weren’t afraid of love.

You were afraid of debt. Emotional, financial, whatever.

You sat with that. Let it burn a little. Let the truth settle somewhere between your ribs and your pride.

But also? He was wrong. He was wrong to throw that in your face like it was a flaw you chose. Wrong to act like your trauma was some character defect and not something you were still learning how to live with.

So—you weren’t not speaking to him.

You just didn’t care to speak when he came to check in.

Nor when he stuck his head out the door to ask if you were hungry or wanted to come watch him play.

You noticed. You just felt too conflicted to react.

When the sliding glass door creaked open, you didn’t even turn your head. But you felt him—barefoot and slow, headset still hanging around his neck, the mic echoing someone calling his name in the background.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just dropped to his knees behind you like his body already knew what his mouth couldn’t find the words to fix.

You were leaned back, sundress creeping up your thighs, legs bent just enough for him to move gently between them.

His fingers grazed the inside of your knee, then his lips—soft, warm, careful. A kiss. Then another.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything—

But he was already tugging your underwear to the side.

“Jared—”

“Nah,” he murmured, mouth brushing your thigh. “I gotta talk to you this way.”

You let your head fall back as he licked one long, slow stripe between your folds—then flattened his tongue and circled your clit like he was trying to memorize it.

“F-fuck,” you whispered, already breathless. “You think this gon solve anything?”

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips shiny, eyes heavy.

“I think I know how to make you listen,” he said low. “And I think you like when I beg with my mouth,”

Then he buried his face between your thighs again like he meant it.

His tongue stroked firm and fast, then slowed just as your thighs started to tremble. He moaned against you when your hips bucked into his mouth, and the vibration alone had your head spinning.

“Jared, baby—”

“Mmhm.” He kept licking, kept teasing, using his middle finger to gently press inside you, curling just right.

“Stop playing,” you whimpered. “You know what I want.”

He smirked and kissed your inner thigh again. “Now you can speak?”

Then he kissed your clit, soft and sweet, like he knew you were close. Like he wanted you there.

“You always taste this good when you mad at me?” he murmured.

You whimpered, chest rising in shallow gasps. He looked up at you from between your thighs with a fire in his eyes—one hand gripping your hip, the other rubbing slow circles on your clit like he was trying to coax the words out of you.

“C’mon, mama,” he whispered. “Say it. Say you forgive me.”

You were too gone to lie. You nodded, voice high and cracked: “I forgive you, baby, please just—fuck, don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. He licked you through your orgasm, kept going until your legs were shaking and your hand was in his curls, tugging like you needed something to hold onto. Your whole body arched as you came again, back stiffening, mouth falling open around a moan that sounded like his name.

“Good girl,” he whispered, breath warm against your skin. “That’s all I needed.”

Later, tangled in sheets and silence, you spoke first.

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled you closer. “Me too.”

“I just get scared. It’s not even about the stuff—I have never experienced non-transactional love, so this means so much more to me.”

He kissed your temple. “We can work through that. But you can’t push me away when I’m trying. I’d give you the world if you’d let me.”

“I’ll try. And you don’t have to stop gifting me things. Just… maybe balance it with other stuff. Like notes. Or that dumb lil back scratch you do when I’m sleepy.”

He chuckled, eyes finally soft again. “Deal. So I can’t get you the matching toiletry bag though?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “We’ll talk about it.”

[thirsty-lakedream]

Hunky Appliances: Design Flaw

Are you an single bachelor or bachelorette looking to spice up your home and fill it with companionship, all without any need of true social interaction? Well we are happy to Introduce Hunky appliance. Our realistic bots are designed to replace all your boring appliances with 200% efficiency. We have models for any kind of chore, from cooking your food, cleaning your house, and much more. Visit our website to be the first in line to get this revolutionary product or call 1-XXX-XXXX to preorder yours today!

When I initially saw that ad, I jumped at the chance. I’m a pretty lonely guy, and I never made a real connection. So the proposition got me excited, I spent no time ordering my new appliance. The fact that you can’t fully customize the companion was a little disappointing, but the wide catalogue of hot models allowed me to find the 3rick model.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting my new android companion arrived and for awhile things were amazing! Not only was he a great time to look at, but he happily completed all the tasks in the house. From cooking, to laundry, all the stuff I couldn’t be bothered with he performed without any issue.

It was all great! Until it suddenly wasn’t. That hot summer day, nothing sounded better than take a nice dip in the pool. But when I went out that morning I found my neighbors dumb tree shed its leaves making it look like a swamp. Without thinking I asked Erick to clean it and he quickly complied. That’s when I found out these Hunky Appliance bits were not built for submerging in water! As soon as he touched down in the water, he started to spazz out and glitch! Sparks shot out of him like a fireworks display and his voice turned grainy and unnatural. Then suddenly he shut off, motionless floating there like a corpse.

It’s been a couple hours since and I’m worried I just lost my favorite appliance due to my dumb mistake. He’s out there in the backyard still, I’m hoping the sun and the rice I poured into his body will help soak up the excess water and he’ll be functional again. If you are thinking of investing in a hunky appliance, make sure to fully read the manual, especially the warnings on what not to do!

Had this story in my drafts for a good year now, finally finished it! Thanks @cutestabber for the idea!

[gazetto-chronicle]

2024.12.14 Ruki on IG:

Hoodies are an essential item for me since I wear them all the time, so I created one again.

This piece went through a lot of effort: it was dyed with a distressed finish, bleached, and then printed on top. Each one has slight variations in the dyeing, which makes them all the more special and easy to grow attached to.

The staff at the production company insisted that gray would also turn out amazing, so I gave it a shot—and they were totally right. I’m so glad I made it ⚡️

That’s why I created this hoodie in two colors. Working with the staff and enjoying the process together was another great memory.

#nilduenilun_tokyo #nilduenilun #act11 #ruki

Knit Sweater This is another new item.

I took the design from the one and only original guitar I own and translated it directly into this knit sweater. It took quite a bit of effort to create that pattern on the guitar, and getting the same texture with this knit material was just as challenging. Haha.

One of the highlights is its comfort: no shedding and no itchiness 🎸

#nilduenilun_tokyo #nilduenilun #act11 #ruki

New black shirt.

For the shoot, I dyed my hair black as well to make the contrast with the white stand out sharply. Going all black every once in a while feels great.

What stood out to me during the shoot was how much the model loved this black shirt—she even took her own photos of it.

I think it suits both men and women, so please give it a try.

#nilduenilun_tokyo #nilduenilun #act11 #ruki

New item🕯️ This is a candle I’ve been wanting to create for a long time.

There’s a story from last winter: after Koron passed away, I lit a candle at home every single day until it burned down completely. Afterward, I repurposed the empty jar as a vase for preserved flowers and ultimately offered it to Koron.

That candle brought me so much comfort, and it reminded me how scents can leave a lasting impression.

I’ve always loved candles, but I’m glad I waited until now to create one instead of doing it back then.

I named this candle LAST HEAVEN, the same name as the first perfume I made.

This is NIL’s very first candle.

It smells amazing, so I hope it can bring peace and comfort to everyone.

#nilduenilun_tokyo #nilduenilun #ruki #lastheaven

NIL New Item (shirt) This was the first item I started designing for this collection: an embroidered shirt.

Back in the day, I often wore my own shirts during encores, so I thought about what kind of shirt I would wear now and created this piece.

The white shirt idea came from last year’s Christmas live performance, where I wore a white suit. I realized white could look surprisingly good, so I decided to make this shirt in both white and black.

I’m particularly fond of the black floral embroidery.

This time, I also had a lot of photos of myself taken for the first time, so it became a great memory. I’ve shared a bunch of them, so I hope you’ll enjoy them 📸

I worked hard again this year to create these pieces, so I hope you’ll give them a try!🔥

#nilduenilun_tokyo #nilduenilun #ruki

On Twitter:

“Good job today, everyone 🙏🔥 I spent my day being totally at the mercy of Instagram’s scheduled posts. Haha.”

"And so, this year as well, I was able to announce new items from NIL.

This will be a long one, but I want to leave my thoughts here.

When I didn’t want to listen to music anymore, when I couldn’t create anything, when everything went blank—it was only then that I truly realized how precious it is to have an environment where I can create something.

Slowly but surely, the feeling of wanting to cherish what I’ve built over time began to overflow. With the help of many staff members in a rush, I was able to bring this 11th collection to life.

I poured myself into this project with the mindset that I want to give my all to what I can do and leave behind right now, because I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.

Now that it’s all been uploaded, I feel once again that this is just one more step toward what comes next.

There were challenges in continuing to push forward and keep updating, but because I decided to create exactly what I love without holding back, I feel like I’ve also relearned the importance of enjoying the process, even amidst the difficulties.

I gave the collection the title "BREATH," with many meanings in mind, including the idea of taking a breath, when you sing.

I think I was able to shape something that I want to incorporate into my daily life.

And this year, which marks seven years since starting NIL, I decided to capture "My Current Self"—Ruki as I am now, with makeup for the first time.

I feel that preserving this moment in some tangible way holds meaning.

I don’t plan on doing this every time, but I’d be happy if people could see me as I am now. And I’m sure these items will suit you all as well, so if you pick them up, it would make me happy.

As always, I personally made everything, from the music to the editing of the promotional videos 🎧

These items are filled with so many thoughts and feelings. I hope you’ll enjoy them 🙏

Please check them out starting tomorrow at 6 PM 📸"

"I'll also post some behind-the-scenes shots so please look forward to them 🐦‍⬛🕊️📸

Good night."

[littleslaywrites]

pas de deux | spencer reid x bau!reader 

summary: you’re a ballet dancer in your spare time. when you get injured, spencer is there to help you recover.

based on ask: “can i request a spencer reid x reader where our reader (who does something like figure skating, gymnastics, cheer, ballet, etc, in her spare time) gets injured on the job and realizes that also affects her hobby? and spencer helps her find a new hobby while she's in recovery and it's just super fluffy and cute” 

word count: 1.8k

cw: f!reader, basically just fluff, slight angst kinda, description of injury (knee hyperextension), boyfriend!spencer, reader is an intern at the bau and becomes a member of the team

Ballet has always been there for you, even when nobody else was. You had been dancing your whole life, from age three all the way until now, spending your time after work in the studio. Although you chose not to major in dance in college, it was your solace, always waiting after a long day.

Spencer was the first person you had met that made you feel like ballet did. When you started your internship over the summer at the BAU, he was there for you without being patronizing. He understood you like nobody else had. You felt free around him, always excited to see him when you got home. Best of all, he was perfectly fine sharing your attention with ballet. When you had your first performance after meeting him, before he even asked you on your first date, he was waiting in the front row with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen. From that night on, he was at every opening and closing night you had.

After graduating, you were promoted from intern to an official member of the team, and Spencer promoted you from crush to girlfriend. That winter, you were doing a production of The Nutcracker in D.C. at the Washington Ballet. Every night after work, you’d make the drive to rehearsal. It was a tight schedule, but the love you had for it ensured it was never a burden. 

It was a routine case, local, so you didn’t even have to fly out. Garcia had traced the unsub’s location, sending the team to a house in some unsuspecting suburb. 

The SUV pulled into the driveway, you sitting in the passenger seat while Morgan drove. Rossi and JJ were right behind you, so you didn’t hesitate to go inside the house. As Morgan kicked down the door, you saw the unsub make a run for it. You followed, but in your hurry, you didn’t realize there was a step up into the room you were rushing into. 

You realized you were tripping as it happened, swearing internally at your mindlessness. You felt your ankle twist, and you tried to save the fall by putting your knee down. You felt it hit the ground, buckling and bending back, pain shooting through the back of your leg. Morgan was ahead of you, already taking down the unsub, so your fall went unnoticed until JJ came through the door.

As JJ came to your side, your first thought wasn’t the injury, but the embarrassment you felt. Within your first three months as an official member of the BAU, you managed to injure yourself because you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Laying flat on your stomach, you heard JJ ask if you were okay. You murmured something, trying to push yourself up to your feet. You’d had little injuries in ballet, so you surely could handle whatever you just did. But as you tried to stand, the throbbing pain in your knee made itself known. You bit your tongue to stifle yourself from crying out in pain. 

Your attempt to stand failing, you rolled over to your back and sat up, looking at the damage. You cringed away as you looked at your knee, bent in the opposite direction as it should be. Biting your lip, you carefully straightened your leg back out to its regular position, sighing as the pain set it. JJ called out for a medic, and you braced yourself for the consequences of your mistake.

Spencer is trailing behind the first two cars, arriving as the unsub is being led to the police car that was waiting outside. When he hears JJ call out for the medic over the radio, he immediately panics, mind going to the worst case scenario about you. As he climbs out of the passenger seat, he sees you hobbling into the back of an ambulance, arm around JJ’s shoulder. He jogs over to you, trying to see around the EMT who’s working on your knee.

“What happened, y/n?” he asks, trying not to sound too concerned but failing. 

“It seems like she hyperextended her knee,” the medic replies for you. “She should try to stay off of it for a month. I’m getting her a brace now.”

You’re looking down at your hands, not wanting to face the concerned look in Spencer’s eyes. Of course, you’re grateful someone cares about you in the way he does, but it makes you embarrassed to know you caused the concern. 

“I have a ballet performance in two months–” you begin, before the medic cuts you off.

“Absolutely not,” the medic says. “You’ll be on crutches for half that time, and you shouldn’t put any excess pressure on it for at least 12 weeks.”

This news shatters your heart. You know the medic’s careless attitude can’t be attributed to cruelty, he’s probably busy and wanting to get onto the next job, but his words still make your eyes water. Knowing the rest of the team is already moved onto wrapping up the case, you let a silent tear fall, still refusing to look away from your lap.

When the medic leaves to fill out some form, Spencer moves in close to you, lifting your chin to make eye contact with you. The look in his eyes is full of concern and understanding, only causing more tears to come.

“Hey,” he pulls you into a hug. “I know,” he comforts as you cry. 

You’re sure your face is burning from embarrassment, both from being injured and now crying in the middle of a crime scene. You bury your face in his neck so nobody else can see you.

He knows what losing ballet means to you, especially losing your role in the show. He doesn’t have to tell you that he understands, the way he holds you says it clearly. 

“You know, just before you started your internship, I got shot in the leg and was on crutches. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts.

“Spencer, that wasn’t your fault,” you sigh out, “I tripped and fell. That’s all on me.”

He looks at you, knowing nothing he says can change your mind. “At least you won’t have to get on the plane for a while.” 

“What if I like being on the plane?” you ask back.

“You don’t,” he answers, a smirk on the sides of his lips as he tries not to smile at your commitment to being miserable.

You see him trying not to smile, and a laugh breaks up your crying. Spencer brushes away a tear that rolled down your face, joining in your giggles. 

“My stubborn girl,” he says lovingly, leaning down to kiss you.

The EMT clears his throat, and you take that as your signal to head back to the station.

Resting at home wasn’t easy for you. Despite your protests, Spencer got Hotch to give you two weeks off. You felt useless sitting around your shared apartment, not even able to clean with your reliance on the crutches. 

Even worse was when you had to call the company to tell them you wouldn’t be able to perform. You knew your understudy would do well, but giving up the role was heartbreaking nonetheless.

Spencer knew how devastated you were losing your passion, your escape from reality. His solution is to scour his bookshelves for whatever he thought you might like. You didn’t mind reading, but you’d lost your enthusiasm for it in college when you were swamped by textbooks and research papers. Spencer made it his mission to overcome that, knowing there had to be something you’d love.

The night before your first day alone on leave, you were laying in bed. Spencer had taken longer than usual to join you. Unable to go through the effort to get out of bed, you call out “Whatcha doing out there, Spencer?”

“You’ll see,” he replies. His secrecy makes you smile. You can tell he’s in this study from where his voice came from. Your curiosity is piqued, but you don’t want to spoil whatever surprise he has in store, so you just lay back down. Eventually, he joins you in bed, snuggling as close as he can while still being careful of your knee. The comfort of his arms pulls you into sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s fully dressed, laying out clothes for you on the dresser. He helps you get dressed, even though it’s completely unnecessary. You’re not as injured as he acts like you are, which frustrates you, even though it comes from a place of love. Still, you're grateful he helps you get ready before he makes his way to the door to leave for the workday.

“You’d think I was as breakable as an egg from the way you act,” you say, crutching over to the door as he picks up his bag.

“I don’t know, y/n, you fell pretty easily,” he teases, soft brown eyes meeting yours to show that he means nothing, simply poking fun at you. You wish you could reach out and run your hands through his hair, but you’re held back by your crutches. Spencer’s probably grateful for that part of your injury, since he isn’t fixing his hair every few hours because you couldn’t resist playing with it.

Rolling your eyes at his quips, he leans down to kiss you. “I’ll miss you, Humpty Dumpty,” he says playfully. You scoff, faking insult, as he walks away and opens the door. “And, by the way,” he stops himself, “I left a surprise on the coffee table to you.” He closes the door, and you remember him in the study last night.

When you go to sit on the couch, you see a stack of books with a note on the top. Setting the crutches lazily on the floor, you pick up the note, reading:

I looked through my books and found a few I thought you might enjoy. Hopefully, they can take you to another world while you’re stuck on the couch. Love you, Spencer.

P.S. Ice packs are in the freezer.

You smile at his words reaching for the stack. Each book has a note placed inside on why you might like them. Anna Karenina because he remembered (of course he did) when you told him you performed in the ballet adaptation in high school. The Grapes of Wrath to remind you of your home state, California. Misery since you loved horror movies as much as he did, so he thought you might like a horror book. Animal Farm if you wanted something shorter but thought-provoking. Jurassic Park because, as he wrote, “everyone loves dinosaurs”. 

You smiled at the gesture, picturing him going through all of his books and choosing the ones he thought would help you forget about what your injury took away. Even with him at work, you felt his love in the stack of books, the notes he left, the coffee he left you on the table. He was your partner in crime, trusting him in the pas de deux of life.

You leaned back on the couch, picking up the first book from the stack, already anticipating discussing your readings with Spencer when he got back from work.

author's note: I absolutely LOVED writing this one. By the end it was totally self indulgent becuase I was having too much fun. It may or may not be totally based on myself. Since it’s nutcracker season I made that the show y/n was performing in. Also the books mentioned are all some of my favs. I pictured season 6/7 Spencer while writing but that has pretty much no impact on the story lol. @kakamixoxo I love you for this request and I literally had so much fun writing it!

[legendary-69420]

Broadway’s Brightest Star 1 : From Tracks to Theatre

Chapter 11 : Part 1

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning when Charles, lounging on his couch, began aimlessly scrolling through Instagram. He wasn’t looking for anything specific—just killing time before the day’s responsibilities kicked in. That was until a familiar name caught his eye on a reposted story from none other than Mark Spencer.

His thumb froze mid-swipe. The story displayed a vibrant trailer with elegant gold lettering over lush jazz music:

"La La Land comes to Broadway, starring none other than @Mark_Spencer as Sebastian!"

Charles blinked. Mark Spencer? HIS Mark Spencer? When had this happened?

The clip played automatically, showcasing Mark in full Sebastian mode—dressed sharply, spinning on a lamp post, jazz piano music in the background and Mark with an effortless charm. The captions provided all the details: show locations, dates, and a prompt to book tickets. Gigi Meloni (A famous model) had been cast as Mia, and the chemistry between her and Mark looked flawless even in these brief snippets. The polished teaser ended with Mark’s smile lighting up the screen, and Charles felt something twist in his chest.

He couldn’t stop himself from diving deeper. A quick search led him to the official Broadway account. There, a post highlighted Mark’s involvement:

"We wanted someone perfect—someone with both theatrical experience and the passion to embody Sebastian. After seeing Mark’s performance in the 'Barbie' movie and in 'All of Us Strangers', it was clear: he was our Seb," the owner of the production stated. The director added, "Funny story: Mark’s audition featured him singing parts of Mia’s solo as a joke. Classic Mark." Ryan Gosling himself had chimed in with his approval: "Mark is literally the perfect choice. Couldn’t be happier to see him bring Seb to life." Emma Stone added: "Can’t wait to watch his performances—he’s going to be phenomenal."

Charles scrolled to the comments section, which was already exploding with reactions.

@MarkFan69: "Mark 6 months ago: La La Land is my favorite movie. Mark now: Starring in La La Land Broadway. Talk about growth! ✨🔥"

@F1_Fangirl: "WHAT THE HELL!!!!! MARK AS SEB IS SO PERFECT 🥵"

@MarkandCharles4ever: "The Seb we didn’t know we needed 😭💖"

@Charkshipper : "Mark Spencer continues to be the main character of our lives.😆"

@F1Gossip_Guru : "Mark Spencer is Sebastian? My heart can’t take this. 💓💞"

@Markismybf : "Mark and Gigi have SO much chemistry. I hate how perfect they look together.😍"

@MarkSpencersfuturewife : "Okay, but who else is still rooting for Mark and Charles to duet after seeing this news?!🤩😗"*

Even the drivers couldn’t resist joining in.

@Lando_Norris: "So THIS is why you ghosted me for two weeks. Makes sense now."

@Carlos_Sainz "Looks like I’ll be booking tickets for opening night! Proud of you, hermano."

@Lewis_Hamilton: "Wow. Can’t wait to see this. You’re a star, Mark."

Charles stared at the post for far too long. His surprise was quickly giving way to jealousy. The realization that Mark would now have an onstage love interest—a gorgeous, talented model, no less—set his thoughts spiraling.

Charles’ Reaction :

Setting his phone down thinking, Charles muttered under his breath, "No shit, Sherlock." His mind raced. When had Mark found time for this? Between races, promotional events, and whatever else Mark was doing, he’d somehow landed the lead in a major Broadway production? And not just any production—it was La La Land.

Mark’s love for the film was no secret. He’d gushed about it on more than one occasion, calling it “the perfect blend of heartache and hope”. But Charles hadn’t realized the depth of that passion. And now… Mark was Sebastian, pouring himself into the role, creating onscreen chemistry with someone else.

Charles swallowed hard, scrolling back to the trailer. The scenes between Mark and the model were captivating—dances under the stars, moments of raw emotion. It was acting, sure, but it was good acting. Too good.

He let out a small huff and tried to brush off the irrational pang in his chest. You’re being ridiculous, he told himself. It’s just a role. Mark’s a professional. This doesn’t mean anything.

But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that Mark’s newfound Broadway stardom would add another layer of distance between them.

And yet, at the same time, Charles couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride. Mark had done it again—proved his limitless talent to the world.

As Charles set his phone aside, he muttered a final thought to himself.

Looks like I’ll be booking tickets to Broadway.

(Dividers by @omi-resources)

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

2025 is gonna be the year of me posting fic ideas and drafts rather than hoarding them in a single notes app file:

Satanized: The making of the music video.

(this is all because @rainsbasspick said Rain looked like he'd rather be anywhere else lol)

oh and hi @cosmicseafoam since you asked to be tagged in anything I write!!

After the success of Rite here Rite now, and following a rocky start as Frater Imperator, Copia had been given one final task before handing over the reins to the new Papa Emeritus V: organising the music video announcing his succession. Psaltarian was in charge of everything else; from the smoking billboard, to the coded playlist, to the aggressive marketing campaign, and yet Copia was still feeling the pressure of his task.

Between the new Papa and the ghosts of Sister and Nihil, they had concocted a rough plan for how the Satanized video should go: black and white, and set in some unspecified time in the past. Most importantly, it had to fit within their limited budget; despite the record popularity of Ghost currently, custom-made cassocks didn't come cheap. Papa V had wanted the best, of course, something Copia with this collection of bespoke lamé jackets more than understood. That didn't stop him grumbling about it however as Sister's ghost appeared to remind him that he had less than a week and that his budget had been slashed even further.

While they might not have any money for fancy scenery, costumes or hired actors, Copia knew the Abbey wasn't lacking in the things that mattered here; enthusiasm and talent. By lunchtime, word had spread throughout the halls that he was casting for a music video filmed here at the Abbey, with it's most devout worshippers in the lead roles.

The queue of siblings of sin had formed outside his office within hours, and Copia had found himself running auditions quite by accident. What he hadn't expected though was to find his - V's now, he had to remind himself - entire cohort of ghouls waiting patiently for their turn.

Copia was a man of principles, and he had spent his entire tenure in the band striving to be the best frontman he could be. He had dedicated years of his life to the project, improving it in any way he saw fit and ultimately leading them to greatness. That didn't mean he wasn't deeply biased towards the ghouls who had helped him achieve everything, however.

That bias was how, with less that two full days until the video was due to be released, Copia found himself directing the gaggle of ghouls onto the makeshift film set, dressed in borrowed siblings' albs and costume wigs bought hastily on the internet.

The ghouls were technically playing themselves in half of their scenes, he reasoned, and who better to act as members of a band that the members themselves? They were already needed on set for the final shot of Papa V, after all. He chose to ignore that he had written the scenes requiring them to play their instruments into the script at the last minute. He didn't need to justify his choices as Frater Imperator, but a part of him would always be that young Cardinal, desperate for validation and compelled to justify his every move.

They had proven themselves in the movie, Copia thought to himself, Rain especially with his small speaking role. All of them had showed they could be trusted to represent the Abbey and attract more followers all on their own, so what better way to thank them than allow them in front of the cameras again? They had had so much fun, Copia remembered fondly. From their silly skits backstage at the Forum to their unforgettable performance on the stage, the ghouls were an integral part of Ghost.

Playing the lead role in his little production was one of the Brothers of Sin, a devout member of their church who had been at the Abbey for as long as Copia could remember. As he had learned in his brief audition, the Brother had been an aspiring actor before joining their ranks. Educated in one of the finest drama schools, he fell into the role better than anyone the Clergy could have paid money to hire. Even the more esoteric moments of Copia's script couldn't match the Brother breaking out into jazz hands halfway thorough one of his solo scenes. Playing opposite him as a priest was another Brother, one whom Copia had selected for the role solely because he thought his eyebrows fitted the part. His natural confusion lent him just the right air of disgust Copia was going for.

Any air of solemnity the pair of brothers conjured up in their early scenes was dashed as soon as the camera was on the ghouls however. Trustworthy enough to maintain their glamours and entrance audiences as they were, Copia had made one grave mistake when directing them prior to filming their ensemble scenes: he had told them to pretend they were back on stage, take it as seriously as they took the rituals.

In the many months since his final tour had ended, Copia had forgotten exactly what that looked like. Cameras rolling, the ghouls had swayed and bobbed to the music, nearly bumping into each other with every movement given how tightly they were squeezed into an old choir pew. It felt strange to them, performing without masks to hide behind. Dew especially was taking some small comfort in the pressure of the silly wig on his head, the familiar albeit uncomfortable feeling actually helping him concentrate.

Nothing could stop their antics however. Cumulus had flapped her hands directly under Dew's nose during his solo, trying to put him off, while Swiss seemed to be trying to claw back every missed second of screen time he had lacked in the movie by acting up here. Rain looked markedly more subdued that Copia had been expecting however, especially given how he had been dubbed the pack's movie star after his one line of dialogue. What the Abbey's new director was unaware of however was the small spat he and Dew had had only moments before; with Dewdrop teasing the water ghoul over stealing the show in the movie and the water ghoul resolving to act as nonchalantly as he was capable of as a result. Copia supposed that explained Cumulus' determination to annoy Dew in response.

Despite whatever quarrels they may have, the ghouls were keenly looking forward to the filming of one specific scene. Ever since they were summoned, each ghoul had received countless lectures and training on how they were not to hunt the humans, on pain of banishment back to the pit. The line in the script, originally written for other Siblings of Sin, in which they were to pin the lead Brother to a low stone altar went against everything they had been trained not to do topside. The novelty of finally getting to give in to their baser instincts was enough to get all of them to put their quarrels aside. The cat-like grins on the faces of the ghouls as they slunk forward inspired the best performance from the Brother yet; the look on his face one of pure terror. Phantom even licked their lips as they readied to pounce, the Brother of Sin regretting all his life choices that had led to this moment.

Still though, he couldn't criticise them; so much of their popularity came from their antics on stage, and he supposed he couldn't fault them for doing what they did best. Copia was infinitely proud of them. Hearing of his retirement had been hard for them - "retirement" held a scary double meaning for many at the Abbey - but they had taken the news that they would be performing with a new frontman better than he could have expected.

As admirably as all of the ghouls and siblings alike acted, he had to admit that the reveal of his successor was quite spectacular. With the fog machine he had dug out of the basement blasting and a MacGyvered camera boom sweeping around him, the dark Pope was resplendent in his new cassock, surrounded by the ghouls. Copia deeply wished it was still him up there, singing to their ever-increasing legions of adoring fans, but alas that was not to be. Looking up at Perpetua, oozing confidence as he smouldered down the camera lens he smiled weakly to himself: at least their congregation ought to like him, and that was all that truly mattered.

[luvymelody]

todoroki shoto - for the first time : mac demarco

todoroki never really understand why he his face seemed to feel more hot as one of his classmates walked into the room. just one specific classmate.

y/n l/n.

she was a pretty girl no doubt, there would be people from business classes to even the hero classes coming to the 1-a classroom everyday just to have a glance of y/n walking out. todoroki found her pretty but he didn't really pay much thought to it.

aizawa had planned a hero exercise where the class were put into a pair or a trio and they were to retrieve the hostage that was kidnapped and bring them back outside. the kidnapper was going to be aizawa and the hostage was just going to be a mannequin.

partners and groups were going to be made by a wheel a day before in homeroom. everyone got their respected partners or groups and then that left todoroki and y/n with no group or partner.

"so that leaves todoroki and l/n together."

"aww no fair i wanted y/n!"

kaminari called out, yelling out as he got shoji, one of the biggest guys in the class and would probably be seen in a second, shoji's face grew red under his mask.

y/n walked up to todoroki as her seat that was on the right near the middle section while todoroki was in the back left of the class.

"hi todoroki! let's try our best okay!"

y/n exclaimed, her fists above her chest and clutched inwards and having a smile on her face. todoroki didn't understand why, but his face grew hot again.

"of course, l/n."

-

the exercise went off without a hitch, no problems whatsoever. some pairs passed the course and some failed. todoroki and y/n were last to perform.

"you sneak though the left side and i'll sneak though the middle corridor. if i get caught you help me and if you get caught i'll help you-"

y/n was explaining on what they should do as their plan but todoroki was too mesmerised the way their lips moved, noticing the new shade of lip product that they had. it wasn't like a lipstick it was more of a lip tint.

"did you get a new lip product?"

y/n paused and took a double take at todoroki's words. then smiled,

"you noticed? isn't it cute! it was only like 1000 yen, but the cashier was looking at me funny so i don't know if he was scamming me or-"

todoroki's heart thumped faster, feeling like it was beating out of his chest infront of the h/c coloured haired girl.

"anyway do you like it?"

y/n asked, her lips puckering up and she closed her eyes in a pose to show off her lips. he stared hard at her lips and he nearly held up his hand to touch them, if they felt as soft as they looked, but she opened her eyes once more, and his hand retracted quicker than ice can melt under the sun.

"yes, it looks beautiful."

y/n blushed and todoroki noticed that that was how he looked at her when she walked into a room. did she find him pretty?

-

todoroki held onto the mannequin as he looked for y/n, he didn't see her as he went down the left hallway, he didn't know if she got caught or was just in hiding.

todoroki walked fast and noticed a noise behind him, trying to shoot off his ice immediately towards the noise but nothing came out of his hands.

"good try, i have your partner by the way."

todoroki whipped his head around and saw that aizawa was holding onto y/n was his rope that was wrapped around his neck, his hair floating and the yellow goggles on his face onto. y/n nervously smiled and mouthed out a 'sorry' towards the heterochromia eyed boy.

todoroki noticed that y/n was growing a thorn out of her hand, noticing the plants and flora that grew out of both, as aizawa didn't notice and just thought that she wouldn't be able to get out of his scarf grip.

y/n mouthed a 'now' as the stem of the flower bent and grew, hitting aizawa in the face as he grunted into surprise. todoroki immediately froze out a large block of ice towards aizawa, freezing him in place and y/n got out of the rope, making a run towards todoroki.

"let's go- todoroki!"

todoroki waited until the girl was next to him, reaching out for her hand and gripping onto her hand as they exited the building. the class outside cheered as they noticed the two coming out.

"good job! you guys made it!"

mina called out, running over the y/n and hugging her tight as the warmth in her right hand left, the one parallel to her was todoroki's left side.

"thanks!"

the girls crowded around y/n, they whispered a few words and that made y/n the same red as before that todoroki saw that mimicked his face aswell.

"why were you guys holding hands?"

midoriya asked, as he walked up to todoroki next to iida.

"the pair of you did a fantastic job!"

iida said, todoroki gave a small smile with the corner of his lips turning up.

"thank you."

-

the class went back to the dorm rooms, they were settling in for the night and todoroki lied in his bed, hands intertwined on his stomach as he thought about the day.

he was so curious about his temperature rise that y/n and him were feeling, so he got up, walking towards y/n's dorm room. he knocked on the door, as it was opened, no surprisingly y/n opened it.

she was doing her skincare and had a headband to hold back her hair and two eye masks under her eyes. she blushed to see todoroki, she thought that mina was the one knocking as she said that she was coming over.

"oh! hi todoroki, this is kinda embarrassing for you to see me like this.."

"it's alright, you're always beautiful in every way."

y/n grew even more red than before.

"that's really kind of you todoroki-"

"i need to ask, why does your face turn red when i compliment you? because it happens to me when you walk into the same room as me and i notice you. i notice you everytime you do and i've always questioned what this meant because i didn't understand. when i was looking at your lips my heart was beating really loud that it felt like it was coming out of my chest and i don't know what it means and i'm nearly desperate to know what it means."

todoroki summarised, y/n took it in slowly and her face still remained red, she reached down to grab onto todoroki's hands and held them between her and todoroki, then it was todoroki's turn to turn red.

"it.. it means that you like me, todoroki. like, like like me, you like me how a couple would love each other but just a little less."

todoroki listened to her words and gripped her hands tight,

"i understand now.."

todoroki stared into her eyes and glanced at her lips once more.

"may i kiss you?"

todoroki questioned once more, y/n's lips started to tremble under her nerves, uttering a quiet yes as todoroki slowly leaned in, closing the gap between the two of them. he finally understood the feeling and emotion that he felt for y/n. love.

[invisibleicewands]

If you missed Tom Holland’s starring turn in “Romeo & Juliet” on the West End earlier this fall, now is your chance to get a taste of British theater — this time, for free and without leaving your home.

Enter London’s iconic Olivier stage with a viewing of Michael Sheen-led Welsh fantasia play “Nye” via National Theatre at Home (NT at Home), a streaming service designed to offer theatrical plays to viewers globally. “Nye” will stream for free on the National Theatre YouTube channel from 7 p.m. GMT on Thursday, Nov. 7 until Monday, Nov. 11.

Per the show’s description, in “Nye,” “Michael Sheen plays Nye Bevan in a surreal and spectacular journey through the life and legacy of the man who transformed Britain’s welfare state and created the NHS. Confronted with death, Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan’s deepest memories lead him on a mind-bending journey back through his life; from childhood to mining underground, Parliament and fights with Churchill.”

The stage play, which is written by Tim Price and directed by Rufus Norris, will be the second annual title offered as a free stream from the National Theatre.

“I can’t wait for audiences worldwide to watch this incredibly important show,” Sheen told Variety. “It feels particularly appropriate for this play to be available for free as it follows the founder of the National Health Service, Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan through his life and fight to make healthcare free at the point of access. The free stream is a brilliant opportunity for theatre lovers and skeptics alike to tune in, be inspired and learn something, too.”

After its free-streaming window, “Nye” is set to join more than 80 titles in the National Theatre at Home library. In a promo tied to “Nye,” NT at Home is offering new subscribers access to their streaming selection for half off of their first two months with the code “NYE50.” The service is currently priced at £9.99 per month (around $13) or £99.99 per year (around $130).

“I’m thrilled that audiences around the world will have the chance to watch ‘Nye’, not just for free, but from the comfort of their homes,” Norris, “Nye” director and co-chief executive of the National Theatre, said. “NT at Home was born out of the restrictions Covid created, when the National Theatre hosted weekly free broadcasts of productions, garnering 15 million viewers. The platform now has subscribers in 184 out of 195 countries. We’re thrilled to be able to continue to make theatre accessible worldwide with the annual ‘Take Your Seats’ free stream initiative, breathing new life into and building new audiences for productions we’re incredibly proud of.”

Callum Stewart, head of National Theatre at Home, explains NT at Home was born out of a desire to make theater available to locked-down viewers during the pandemic. “It comes down to accessibility and it comes down to affordability,” Stewart says. “Theater is for everyone.”

Stewart credits Sheen’s performance in the titular role and Norris’ directorial capabilities with making “Nye” resonate with audiences to the level that NT at Home decided to give it a free window at launch.

“It is almost like you’re in the hospital with [Nye] and you’re looking into his soul,” Stewart says. “The real human emotion when people don’t have long left…It’s touched a lot of personal points.”

For the 60th anniversary of the National Theatre in 2023, the streamer released its first “Take Your Seats” initiative, which was viewed by over 180,000 people, per the organization. “Nye” will mark the latest edition of “Take Your Seats.”

The show will be available with both audio description and British Sign Language on NT at Home. Stewart says that 85% of current titles offered on NT at Home come with audio descriptions and that the streamer is on track to bolster British Sign Language offerings in addition to starting trial runs for Spanish subtitling.

According to Stewart, telling these stories to global audiences is particularly important and filming this production on the National Theatre’s Olivier stage adds extra magic.

“When people go to the theater, it’s a moment in time. You’ve got to be in the play, almost with the actors. You’ve got to be in that story, in that moment,” Stewart says. “It’s so powerful you don’t have anything else like it. It beats absolutely everything.”

[lemoo0nade]

Gym Date with Consequences

LE SSERAFIM Kazuha x Male Reader

lenght: 2,000 Words

Genre: fluff

After meeting her in ballet school back in the Netherlands, it's safe to say you and Kazuha have been friends for quite some time. You were one of the very first to hear the news about her going to South Korea to become an idol. However, now her busy schedule as a member of one of the most famous K-pop groups in the world is standing in the way of spending time with her, and it’s frustrating.

As much as you cherish your friendship, and those rare texts and calls you exchange, you can't help but think of her as more than just a friend. Seeing her on screen, in performances and music videos, with all the film magic of post-production editing and makeup, feels like a dream to you. Especially knowing how incredibly pretty her natural self is.

It has now been a little over three years since you and Kazuha parted ways. She’s become a full-fledged idol, put her past as a ballerina behind her, and the texts between you two have become more infrequent… until; LE SSERAFIM announce their 2025 'Easy Crazy Hot' world tour.

In awe, you immediately check the tour stops and see exactly what you've been waiting for for years. They’re coming to you. Right to your doorstep, in fact.

“She really didn’t lie,” you say to yourself with a big smile on your face as you look at your chats with her. She’d already told you they would be coming, but you wouldn't have believed her until you heard the official announcement. “Let’s meet up when you come here!” you hit enter, getting surprised by the immediate read receipt popping up. She seems to have been anticipating your message. “Of course!” she replies. “I’m sending you the schedule before I arrive ❤️.” That message gave you the biggest smile you've had in a long time. Did you just arrange a date?

------------------------- 5 months later -----------------------------

“Ahhh,” Kazuha sighs after smacking her lips, “It’s so good to be back, and nothing really changed.” She strolls in relief, pushing open the door to the gym before stopping in the doorway. “Right, oppa?” she raises her voice slightly while looking back and catching you stuck in your thoughts.

An idol's schedule is nothing to take lightly, and you know that. It worries you. You don’t want to stand in the way of Zuha's success, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Walking up to you, she hits you with her everlasting smile. That smile which you kept deep in your memories, her dimples forming so clearly on either side of her face. Just being in her vicinity throws you back to the old times when you and she were besties. All the memories, all the experiences you've had together. The meals you shared and the sleepless nights you fought through…

“Hey, oppa…” a subtle yell fills your ears, “ya-!” mixed with pounding on your chest, which knocks you right out of your daydream. “I-I’m here,” you catch her fists before they hit your chest again. “Just been overwhelmed by some memories.”

You both freeze as you hold her fists in front of you, eyes locked onto each other. It feels as though time stops for hours, but you pull yourself out of it and turn her back around.

“Let’s go,” you exclaim enthusiastically yet shyly, eager to have your first mutual gym day in over three years… and to hide the fact that her eyes just completely melted you. Kazuha and you enter the gym and split up to go to your different changing rooms, but that eye contact still lingers in your brain. You saw it. Her eyes grew wide, and her cheeks turned red. How long were you even staring at each other? A second? A minute? She even seemed to pucker her lips the longer it went. There were sparks… but no, it can’t be. She’s an idol. Idols aren’t allowed to love or date. You’re friends and nothing more.

You change into your gym clothes and put your things in a locker, closing it before walking out to the machine.

As you sit down on the machine, getting ready to do your butterflies, you dare a short peek over to the mats and catch Kazuha doing her workout. She’s doing crunches. Wow, you think to yourself, mesmerized by how easy she’s making it look. She was incredibly fit before she left for Korea, but that idol routine must be intense.

Of course, you’ve seen her do these workouts a ton of times back when you two shared a gym in dance school, but somehow your eyes keep scanning her body subconsciously.

Her long, slightly wavy blonde hair, freshly styled just for her last comeback. Her tall and slender body, with curves that could rival those of supermodels. Her abs are magnificent, every mountain and valley on her stomach formed so perfectly that it’s making you question if she’s even real. Her legs in those LE SSERAFIM branded thigh-high leggings… the perfect length, the perfect form. Even her chest looks absolutely perfect underneath her sports bra.

"It’s unfair," you pout. "How is being this perfect even legal?"

It’s aching you. The urge to go up to her and make your move, but you can’t. “Why, just why,” you sigh as you finally start your set in frustration. Every repetition done while staring at Kazuha. While getting reminded constantly that confessing your feelings would not only risk your friendship but jeopardize her career as an idol.

Roughly two minutes after you finish your set, you notice that all the time you spent glaring at her gave Zuha enough time to finish her crunches, and now she’s started doing squats.

You take a sip of your drink and swallow deeply, not quite comprehending the chance you have been given right now. You have a world-renowned idol doing squats not even ten meters in front of you.

Little did you know, you would get the chance to admire her leggings from another perspective. A perspective which so obviously gives you the perfect view of…- “No. No, I shouldn’t,” you abruptly stand up and quickly stop yourself from becoming a literal pervert. Taking your towel, your drink, you walk away.

“This was supposed to be a reunion and not a chance for me to perv over an old friend,” you murmur to yourself, little knowing that Kazuha noticed you leaving after just one set of your exercises.

Searching for a new place to sit and do your exercises fills your head with thoughts about what has just gotten into you. Thinking so lewdly about a friend… “Her body… her goddamn body,” the images in your head alone make you bite your lip.

No wonder she’s so popular with a body as perfect as hers. Built like an athlete, with her skin shining like….

“Oppa?” a faint voice appears in the back of your head, almost like someone is calling for you. “Hey… hello? Are you daydreaming again?” The voice gets louder, growing more familiar with every word. You could recognize that angelic voice from miles away… it’s…

“Zuha!” you jump up quickly, getting ripped right out of your dreams. She tilts her head and looks at you suspiciously with her arms crossed. “What’s going on with you today?” she asks with a concerned look on her face. “You’ve been seeming out of it since earlier.” “Y-Yeah… I’m fine,” you stutter, shyly looking at the floor, struggling to even look at her.

She suddenly grabs hold of your hands and looks you straight in the eyes. Your brain freezes, contemplating, trying to make sense of the whole situation. “Did I do something wrong?” Kazuha asks worriedly, patiently waiting for your answer. As you gather the courage to lift your head and look her in the eyes, reality hits you like a truck. Her big, dark, gorgeous eyes focused right on you, staring into your soul.

It feels like she could read your mind if you keep up eye contact.

Once again, everything goes silent, just like in front of the gym. Her touch feels so soothing, yet her eyes make you fall harder. It’s such a dangerous dynamic but so intoxicating. Dream-like, some might say, but before you even have the chance to fully embrace the moment, Zuha snaps out of it and hits you with the most painful “Sorry…” you’ve ever heard.

But she’s probably right, you think to yourself while watching her walk off back to the changing rooms, broken by what sounded like a very obvious rejection. But you have to stay positive. You’re reunited with Kazuha against all odds, and the day isn’t over yet.

So, you turn around and head to change, convincing yourself what she did was right. She knows any relationship could ruin her career in an instant… but she felt it too, right? This time, you’re sure… there were sparks. “Stop it,” you burst out and hit your head to finally shut those thoughts. At the same time, however, you come up with countless scenarios where you tell her how you feel.

“FUCK,” you shout, unintentionally drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. Sitting down to let your head fall into your hands, you realize every scenario ends at the same place; rejection by your friend, followed by her going back to Korea and leaving you heartbroken.

I gotta get out of here, you think while suppressing the emotions in your head and your face, starting to pack your things. Grabbing your backpack, leaving the changing rooms, and sitting down on one of the couches in the front of the gym, waiting for Kazuha to meet up for your goodbye.

Roughly 15 minutes later, Kazuha finally appears, visibly distraught with her head almost hanging. For a second, you hesitate, but if those 15 minutes of being alone and stuck in your thoughts taught you anything, it’s that you have to make a move. You can’t let her go. Not like that. It would hurt you so badly knowing you never made your move.

Confident, you get up and walk up to her, only to get knocked right down when she walks past without even looking at you. “Let’s eat!” you yell after her, which makes her pause. Shocked yourself that you would propose something so unworldly to her. “Eat?” Kazuha asks and slowly turns around with a rising smile on her face. “Yeah… do you remember that Korean place by the seaside we used to go after every gym session?”

She giggles, trying to hide her smile behind her hair and turning red in the face. Her smile is so addictive it spreads to you and gives you the courage to walk up to her.

“I can drive…” you ask softly, showing her your car keys, careful not to go too far, especially considering that she seems happy about going to eat. “Damn,” she jolts in excitement and hits your chest playfully. “You have a license now? Aww, you’re all grown up.”

Now it’s your turn to get shy, and oh boy, does it show. Not only is your face red like a tomato, you’re also grinning ear to ear and stuttering your next words like you've never talked to anyone before in your life.

“S-Should we… go…?” which gets answered by Kazuha’s enthusiastic nod as you both make your way to your car.

To be continued.

[fractals-and-symbols]

Thoughts on our verbality

[many more words under the cut]

we used to be fully verbal. Talking as much and as often as we wanted. and sure we got tired, but talking was only hard the same way all things are hard when you are tired. We know we talked a lot. Possibly to to point where we may have been hyper verbal as a child. Or maybe we were just louder than all the other kids so to other it seemed like every word was worth more. If we had verbal shutdowns we do not remember them. Maybe we did, and languages struggles are locked away with memories of the meltdowns we know we had.

It was in high school that we first remember having a verbal shutdown. We think after a meltdown though we have blocked that out if it was one.

We took a notebook with us and wrote what we wanted to say. This was our first time using AAC. We had the words for our experience then. Some words at least. Though they may have been the wrong ones. 

We are not sure if the next memory is part of the same one or a different one but we remember downloading a text to speech app to use. Using it and our family acting put off by it. We were driving to our uncles and aunts place. Our family asked if we were going to use it around them and where clearly not impressed. Our words come back before we arrived

And that was that. Verbal but loosing words sometimes. Struggling to articulate sometimes. But only infrequent speech loss. Once a month at most.

And we didn’t have access to AAC. We had text to speech apps on our phone but we didn’t use them. Because writing worked fine. Forcing ourself to speak worked fine.

Language was ours and we used it how we wanted.

And then we went to china. And it was wonderful and amazing and so different and so much change. And after a music performance (for we were there to perform music) our words slipped out of our grasp. and this was fine. this has happened before. We wrote on paper like before but our hand was shaking and the writing was hard to read.

So we went around research different AAC. for when it happened again.

And it did. Twice more. And that was fine because it made sense why it had happened. and we know things would return to normal once we come home.

And for the most part they did. 

Nothing much changed for a good while. And we worked on our AAC for when verbal shutdowns happened. 

It was slow. The loss of our words. Creeping in at the edges. More verbal shutdowns, sure. But also struggling to voice thoughts. Speaking but as not as much as normal. It grew. Until we rarely have a day where talking is easy all the time. until we rarely have a day where we do not wish we could use AAC because talking is a waste of our precious energy. 

We do not know if our talking will return to normal. We do not know if it will just get worse. Right now we can get though almost all of school talking fine. Right now our talking switches off mostly in safe environments. But it has started showing up in places that I thought it would not. Maybe it is just the product of not having more than 3 week off school in almost 2 years. Maybe it is fine. Maybe it will come back. Maybe it will stay like this (but “this” hasn’t been stable so we do not know what “this” is). Maybe we will lose more words. And we don’t know. And the not knowing is scary. 

This doesn’t have a nice conclusion. Because we are not at the end. Because this is still very new and there is change happening and we have to wait and see. We will keep using AAC though. and hopefully soon we will be able to use it whenever we need and want to. Not just sometimes. Around specific people. 

Wow that’s a lot I have written.

[mysteria157]

Chapter 14

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~13k

CW: explicit sexual content (oral sex), profanity, childbirth.

Summary: A birthday, a confession, and a new baby.

Notes: No more angst for awhile! Thank you to all who have been supportive. It means a lot. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

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It Had To Be You Masterlist

Kento, despite all attempts to prove you otherwise, was a snorer. It was never loud and boisterous as you probably made it seem, but he was never silent when you would wake up to him next to you. It was a common occurrence, a section of your bingo card that you had scratched off with glee, storing it in your memories forever.

During the week, you normally woke to the sound of the shower or him in the kitchen, a product of waking before the sun rose to go for a morning jog before he got ready for work. But you caught him in the act on the weekends and on days where he just didn’t feel like it going a jog, or when you would find him leaning his head back on the couch, legs spread and mouth shut tight, you could hear the almost silent rise and fall of his chest, his breath rubbing against his throat, throwing off almost quiet snores into the air.

You had joked that he snored as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, just to see the flicker of annoyance color his features before they were smoothing away and he was throwing you a dramatic eye roll.

But since that day he had finally given in, the day he had pressed his forehead into your skin and collapsed silently for most of that morning, his morning jog schedule became lax and he chose to sleep in as much as he could. Catching up for lost time you supposed and if that is what he needed to heal, you would never question it. Only two weeks of neglect and lack of sleep and it had torn him down until there was nothing left. So he chose to hit snooze on his four am alarm almost every morning, grumbling into his pillow before he would wrap his strong arms around you and pull you further into his chest, burying his face into the soft skin of your neck and sleeping until it was time to get ready for work. He needed the time, needed the peace. Craved it but denied himself for so long and now he was finally giving in.

Including sleeping in on his birthday. With your due date right around the corner, he had finally taken advantage of his gratuitous amounts of PTO and once the baby was born, he would go on paternity leave. Kento never worked too hard because he didn’t need to; he was good at his job, competent and intelligent to the extent that gave him his position that he has today. And while he did take time off occasionally to do what he wanted; he never felt the need to do so for his birthday until this year.

He pulled in a deep breath before exhaling a eucalyptus tinged grumble into the skin on the back of your neck, weaving his much longer and thicker legs in between yours and yanking you closer. You still hadn’t gotten over just how clingy he can be; always wrapping his arms around you in the kitchen. Pulling you flush against him on the couch as you both caught up on The Kardashians. After sex when he performed his vigorous after care routine of pulling you in the shower with him, moisturizing your skin, braiding back your hair before throwing on your bonnet, and massaging the muscles of your body until you were passing out against him in bed. For as quiet and introverted as he was, his hands were always reaching for you.

You felt one of his large hands pull you closer to him, his long fingers splaying along the skin of your lower stomach, cradling the baby that was practically knocking at the door to come into the world.

The first time Kento felt her kick, he had pulled you to bed, yanked your shirt up and spent almost an entire night splayed on his stomach, both of his large hands cradling your belly and his eyes unblinking as he waited for it to happen again.

You didn’t mind really, at the end of the day, you were content to play Animal Crossing on your Switch to entertain yourself while he stroked the skin of your stomach. He had only gotten another kick or two before he began to speak to her, just small things about his day; what he ate for breakfast, musings on what her favorite foods would be, what books he had ready to read to her. It was the low timbre of his voice against your stomach that had your daughter outright extending her legs, pressing against the sides of your stomach and stretching the skin. While it was mildly uncomfortable for you, Kento had widened his eyes in equal fascination and amused horror, concerned for your wellbeing but also hesitating with the urge to see it again.

As he slowly came out of the fog of his grief over the last three months, he found himself immersing more and more with preparing for the baby. He ignored all of your protests of trying to help with the technology that would be needed. He picked and installed the most expensive baby monitors, put together the baby rocker and bouncer, baby proofed the entire house and scoured every crevice of your abode for any signs of contamination or security breaches. It was his own form of nesting you wanted to guess.

He was protective of her just as he was of you, especially considering you had been on bedrest for the past month. You should have known that it was a possibility. You were tiny; only an inch below five feet and with your history of ligament pain, Dr. Williams issued the bed rest order to you for the last month of pregnancy as a precaution and a threat for you to stay off your feet. Kento was the perfect type of person to make sure you complied. He made you take breaks from throwing, ordered you to lay down a few times a day and outright refused for you to be on your feet for more than thirty minutes.

You had tried to rebel at first, the stubborn part of your brain planting hard in your years of independence as you refused to take a break from your throwing the first day of the order. Kento didn’t argue with you, didn’t glare and didn’t pester and it was only forty minutes later when you were wincing in pain and hobbling to the couch, ignoring his knowing looks that you realized he wanted you to learn the hard way.

You hated it but you knew it was for the best.

It was because of the bed rest that you had planned his special day ahead of time.

You rolled over to face his sleeping form, practically plopping over from the heavy weight against your ribs. His eyes were hazy with sleep when you looked up at him, eyelids heavy as he blinked blearily in your direction, his blonde hair disheveled and plastered on his forehead and temple.

“Sorry, I’m sure me moving my large and swollen form woke you up.”

He hummed in reply, the sound deep and gravelly with sleep and warming the place between your legs instantly. You groaned internally, no matter how horny you had gotten recently, you just couldn’t have sex. The bed rest was one thing but with your swollen body the thoughts could be as lewd as they wanted, you hadn’t been in the mood. You both had tried before and the second you hissed in pain from sudden discomfort, he had been too terrified to try again.

Kento stroked a thumb along the skin of your cheek, lifting a sleepy brow before he rolled his eyes and exhaled further into his pillow.

“Stop lying, it’s too early.”

“It’s nine am.”

He threw you a silent glare before shutting his eyes and burying further into his pillow, his blonde hair sliding against the soft skin of his forehead.

“You need to get up anyway.” He grumbled into his pillow in reply, unmoving and refusing to listen, his naked chest rising as he pulled in a breath. “I have things planned for you today…special things.”

Even though his eyes were still closed, and he offered no response, you could tell he was listening, refusing to entertain you in a growing common display of playfulness, but still listening.

You bit your lip, gathering a small bit of courage, your small hand spreading on the hot skin of his chest. The freshly manicured nail of your pointer finger pressed into his skin, pillowing around the relaxed muscle as you dragged it slowly down his chest. You watched with delight as the muscles of his abdominals twitched from the stimulation, your finger sliding along the wispy blonde hair of his happy trail before playing with the hem of his pants. You slid your eyes up to his face, containing a giggle from his already heated and even gaze.

“Are you gonna go back to sleep?” You purred up at him, your fingernail dancing along the thin skin above his hem, slow and teasing, reveling in the sight of his almost unblinking eyes and steady rise and fall of his broad and muscular chest.

Kento had long ago stopped being ashamed of his reaction time to you; only a few seconds of your hands on his skin and he was hard in his pants and ready to get it in whenever you would let him. He could last only a short time before he was perverted and grabbing at you, licking at your skin and reveling in the way you sounded for him.

You hummed at his lack of reply, using your finger to lift the hem of his pants and slide your hand inside, wasting no time fisting his already throbbing cock. You watched the slight twitch of his eyelids as they slowly began to droop, the rising and falling of his chest picking up in speed as you pumped him languidly, the pads of your fingertips sliding along the large vein on the side of him.

Suddenly you were sitting up and climbing off the bed with a pillow, his heart dropping just a little in disappointment from the feel of you leaving him and then picking up again as he watched you gently and carefully sag onto your knees on the floor, the pillow cushioning your knees. You lifted a brow in his direction, beckoning him toward you silently as you threw off your bonnet and let your curls cascade down your back. He followed your call without complaint, scooting to the edge of the bed and allowing you to settle in between his spread legs. You slid your hands up his clothed legs, digging your fingernails into his skin as you trailed them up his shins, around his knees and up the muscular meat of his thighs.

“How about you slide these off for me, hmm?”

He was obeying you almost instantly, the throbbing of his cock pumping all the blood from his brain and taking over all decision making as he watched you throw his pants a few feet away from you and eye the length of him between his legs. It always astounding to you every time you saw his cock, thick and the perfect length, a pronounced vein along the side, connecting to a man who knew how use it to make you a begging, sobbing, moaning mess.

But you had never gotten this far. He never let you even get your mouth close enough.

“Why is it that you never want me to suck you off?” You found the question leaving your mouth as you thought it inside of your head. You slid a finger along the vein of him, reveling in the sight of his abs bunching in response, his fingers digging into the sheets behind him. “You don’t think I’ll do a good job? That’s a little insulting.”

You wrapped your hand around him, your fingertips barely able to touch each other as you stroked him slowly, squeezing just a little and making him shake out a breath, his stomach curling in heat.

“While I love head, I like to give more than—” his voice caught in his throat as you pumped him with a firmer grip, twisting your wrist along his head and bringing a bead of precum down with your hand, lubricating the glide. “more than I receive.”

That wasn’t the complete reason. Kento did love to give, loved the taste of your pussy any day of the week, loved to feel your gummy walls around him and milking him for all he was worth as you dug your fingernails into his back and moaned without abandon into the air. Watching your face pull and twist in pleasure, your back arching and hands digging into the sheets as you took everything he willingly gave you…that brought him the most pleasure, got him so turned on that he had to think of the most boring things occasionally just to keep himself from blowing his load too early.

But as much as he loved to give, he knew his nature. He knew the minute you got your mouth on him, he would be hooked, captivated with the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock and struggling to take him with teary eyes as he came down your throat. He couldn’t handle the thought of it so he tried to keep you away as much as he could. It made no sense, he felt like an addict when it came to you. Even with a normal tryst in the bed, he could get nasty and salacious fast.

He loved to fuck you nice and sweet and slow, loved pulling you apart by the seams as he poured every ounce of himself into the slow thrust of his hips and the heated touch of his lips on your skin, even if the words he whispered in your ears had you blushing red all the way down your neck, shaking your head in embarrassment even though you loved every minute of it.

But he also loved to fuck you rough. Loved to hear you moan without restraint from the force of his thrusts, loved to watch your beautiful brown eyes glaze over as you became delirious from pleasure. It always mystified him with how much you just didn’t care when it came to sex. You could throw that clouded and fierce gaze his way, demanding he fuck you harder, dig into your hips tighter, fuck into your pussy deeper. Or you could gaze up at him filled with unashamed innocence, giving up all control and letting him yank your hair back and dig his teeth into your skin, make you blush and your eyes fill with tears of pleasure as he praised you for being such a good girl, taking this cock just like I knew you would.

Some days he hated just how depraved he could be, but you loved it. And it only made him throb harder in your hand at the thought of knowing this was you while you were pregnant. As soon as you were free of pain and discomfort, as soon as you were a little more relaxed and you had both settled into a routine and your daughter was at a good enough period of development to be babysat, he would take you on a proper date, wine and dine you like he’s always wanted, and then bend you over every surface of the house and show you just how much he thought about you.

And right now, you were right where he wanted you, so close to unlocking a side of him he had tried so hard to keep away.

“I already know you’re a nasty man, Kento. No need to be so coy.”

You stroked him a little faster, collecting each bead of precum to make your grip on him slicker and more wet, the obscene sounds and his heavy breathing carrying through your large bedroom. You caught the slight pinch between his brows and the subtle twitch of his eye, his fingers tightening into the sheets as he leaned back on his hands.

He held his breath as you stuck out your tongue, long and wet and flattening against him as you slid the wet muscle up his cock from base to tip, gliding along his thick vein and moaning softly against him, his head falling back as he hissed harshly into the cool air of your room. You pressed your tongue along the underside of his mushroom tip before you were licking along the top and dipping your tongue into the slit of his cock. He grunted harshly in surprise, his head snapping back down to watch you stroke his shaft and kiss along the underside of him. His eyes were half open, blonde hair from his head shadowing them as he looked down at you, thighs and biceps jerking with barely contained restraint, stomach bunching with every teasing touch as he begged you silently for more.

You answered his plea, giggling softly as you hovered over his cock, extending your tongue and letting saliva slide down the wet muscle and drip onto him. It was absolutely vulgar, the nastiest thing he had ever seen you do, his eyes widening just a little in disbelief. The thought that this was you had him throbbing to the point of pain and groaning long and deep as you finally wrapped your lips around him and sliding down in one smooth motion.

He thought you would need a minute to adjust to the girth of him, even when fucking you had to adjust slowly. But not now. There was no buildup or need to inch your way down, you were opening up your throat and burying your nose at the base of him like a pro, transfixing him and making him think desperately about marketing templates and content schedules just to keep from shooting too early down your throat.

Your mouth was everything he dreamt it would be, hot and wet, your tongue sliding along the underside of him as you worked him in and out of your mouth, your fingers on his thighs jumping from the feel of him twitching beneath you. He fought the nasty thoughts, pushed away the urge to run his hands in your hair and hold you in place while he fucked your throat. But you were making it so hard, moaning against him as you worked him for all he was worth, digging your fingers in his thighs, never faltering as he felt the tip of his dick hit the muscle of your throat over and over.

He moaned softly from the back of his throat as you pulled up and off of him, his cock leaving your mouth with a pop and the saliva from your sloppy work dripping along his shaft. He couldn’t help carding a hand through the soft tresses of your loose curls.

“Keep your hand there.”

You left no room for argument and he tightened his hold in response, squeezing a little more as you smacked his cock against your tongue and went back to work, a hand reaching to grip at the lower part of his cock and twist with each upward stroke, your mouth moving in the opposite direction as you sucked him off.

The pleasure was pooling at the base of his spine, boiling slowly from the wet and sloppy glide of your mouth on him.

“Fuck, yes.”

You let his words wash over you, ignoring the pulsing heat between your legs as you worked him faster in your mouth and deeper down your throat, moaning against him and relishing in the sound of his panting above you, his abs bunching with each stroke. His eyes were locked on you, soaking in the sight of your lips stretched wide around him, the shine of spit along his shaft and down your fingers, the sheen of sweat on your forehead and the baby hairs along your hairline sticking to your skin.

You pulled your hand from him and slowly slid back down to the hilt, peering up at him through thick lashes as you swallowed around him and pulled a sharp groan from his throat as he looked down at you, marveling in the feel and sight of you on him, eyes misty from the stretch, throat closing with every downward stroke, taking him as if you did it every day.

You pulled off of him, using one hand to fist the top of him while you kissed down the rest of his shaft, turning your head and wrapping your tongue around the side of him. He moaned softly at the sight of you, unashamed of how he sounded as his eyes watched your pink tongue wrap and slide down his thick cock.

He was losing his mind, his stomach squeezing, pleasure scorching his veins, mind clouding to the point of delirium as he felt the embers of his orgasm begin to roar to life. He should have done this sooner, should have never smacked your hands away every time you tried to grab at him. He was such a fucking idiot.

You knew your panties were soaked and even from the view of him above you, panting with ruddy cheeks, blonde hair fluttering in front of his eyes from his breath, eyes heady and low, steely and locked on yours, you could probably cum just from his cock down your throat.

You pulled away from him, using the small lapse in time to catch your breath, your hand stroking him at a steady pace as you looked up at him, your chin a little wet from your saliva, tendrils of your curls sticking to the sides of your face, a seductive glint in your eyes that had him pulsing against the quickening stroke of your hand.

“Am I doing well?”

You truly wanted to know. Even through the haze in your mind, you craved to hear the praise that naturally fell from his lips.

He groaned in the back of his throat before smiling down at you, reeling against the feel of you pumping him as he leaned down to kiss you deeply, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip before making a home in your mouth and pulling away with a hot smack, the hand in your hair sliding down to stroke the side of your cheek.

“Doing so well, angel. You’re a natural.”

You pressed your free hand against his abdomen, pushing him so that he was leaning back on his hands again and looking down at you with his overwhelming gaze. You slid your tongue back down his shaft, tantalizing and slow before you were teasing a heavy ball and sliding it into your mouth.

He cursed harshly into the air, his eyebrows furrowing sharply and stomach pulling taut as the fire in his veins licked down his spine, the blood pumping hard and fast in his ears, his chest panting harshly down at you as the pleasure had his hands clenching hard and shaking from the force of the orgasm pressing against his lower abdomen. He was almost there, so close, so fucking close to being submerged in ecstasy.

You chuckled as you licked back up and slid him back in your mouth to the hilt, pouring everything you could into what reserves you had left, using the twitch of his muscles, the shake of his arms, and the dark look in his eyes to bring him to the edge that you could practically feel in your mouth. You were unhinged, bobbing up and down his thick length, ignoring the pain in your jaw as you kept gagging from the feel of him deep in your mouth, the tip of his cock bruising your throat.

He could see spots in his vision, his heart thrashing in his chest, blood roaring in his ears and drowning out the sound of you moaning and gagging and slurping. You reached down, using one of your small hands to fondle the balls that had drawn tight against him, ripping the seal off the bag that was holding his orgasm in as he groaned hard and loud into the air.

“Yes, yes, yes—oh fuck!”

You watched with barely concealed delight as he drew taut against you, practically freezing for a second before his stomach was drawing impossibly tight, his thighs spasming and his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he was throwing it back, groaning harshly towards the ceiling as his cock twitched violently in your mouth and he was spilling down your throat. You moaned through it, swallowing every last drop, sliding him out of your mouth and using your tongue to lick any remains off him.

He was still reclined back against his hands, panting up at the ceiling and shaking as his orgasm faded away and the sensitivity of your tongue had him looking down at you slowly. Even with your curls pressed into your sweaty skin, the trail of spit along of your chin and the crease of the skin on your cheek from sleep, you were beautiful.

Absolutely, undeniably beautiful and all his.

You pressed against the bed and carefully stood up on your feet, ignoring the pain in your lower back before you were wiping your chin with the back of your hand and leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Happy Birthday,” you purred at him, relishing in the open aired chuckle that pressed against your skin as he smiled softly at you and pecked your lips in return.

“Thank you, angel.”

***

“It’s been half an hour, time to take a break.”

You rolled your eyes from the sound of Ome in your ears. Your hands were wet and covered with clay, pressing against the side of what would soon to be a vase of your own creation. Your first client, Hina, had thankfully given you free reign of her commission. She only asked for a vase she could have in a minimalist living room, not too big to be overwhelming, but prominent enough to make a statement. You had spent the past three months working through countless iterations, using the opportunity to pull a still grieving Kento into the studio with you to get him out of his thoughts and within your field of vision while you worked. He was a great sounding board, even with his lack of experience with the nuances of ceramics, he was able to point out the finer details of texture and size in a way you were thankful for.

Kento was currently out for his birthday, a plan of your own design that allowed him to enjoy his day with his friends while you rested and used what little time you were allowed to be on your feet to finish your commission.

But that was proving to be incredibly difficult thanks to the narc in the form of your best friend, arms folded across her hoodie covered chest, a curvy hip resting against the door of your home studio. She lifted an elegant brow, silver liquid eyes matching your intensity as she gave you a knowing look.

“Put everything down and take a twenty minute break off your feet. Get up before I come over there and make you.”

You whined at the honesty in her words as you stood slowly from your cushioned stool and made your way over to the sink Kento and Yu had installed.

“It looks really good.”

Her tone was impressed, deep and raspy but you could practically feel the corners of her lips curve into a gentle smile as you washed and dried your hands and waddled behind her out of the studio and to the living room. She helped you onto the cushions, cradling an elbow as you sank down and sighed almost instantly at the release from pressure in your lower back. She tsked, clicked her tongue against her teeth as she fussed over you.

“I know you want to finish this before she is here, but I need you to actually be able to deliver her.”

“Ome I—”

“You wanna have her in the hospital? You want to have those people poke and prod on you, downplay your pain and practically walk you into a coffin? Because if your placenta detaches because you failed to obey Dr. Williams orders, I will kill you myself.”

You sighed in defeat, your eyes misting from her words. You weren’t really that upset with her, you had practically grown up with her way of talking. Direct and blunt was all Ome knew, and while she never intended to hurt, she relied so much more on her ability to cut straight to the point to make people see reason. Especially with you. But the influx in hormones over the past week and the growing, swelling and pain and general anxiety…you were incredibly uncomfortable and ready for her to be out. You loved being pregnant, truly you did. But you had finally reached the stage where the discomfort had outweighed the joyful feeling of bringing life into the world.

“I’m sorry. You know I don’t mean it. I just…I worry and I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here.” Ome rubbed your shin absentmindedly, her eyes on your leggings as she thumbed and stroked the fabric. “Just thinking about it makes me nauseous so—so I need you to stop fucking around.”

You snorted in response, rubbing the side of your stomach as you felt your daughter kick a little harder than usual. You groaned softly in reply, ignoring the admonishing gaze from the woman across the sofa.

“Why don’t you go check the guest room? Make sure everything is together for me, please?”

You watched her leave, ignoring the urge to groan again as you felt your daughter land another kick to your side.

When you began to really nest, you spent the better part of a week turning one of your guest rooms into a birthing suite. A bed with absorbent sheets, an inflatable pool ready to be filled with water, a kit of medical supplies for emergencies, receiving blankets, clothes for yourself, snacks and even a space for the midwives to relax, you felt as ready as you could be. You had opted to not have your doula at the birth. Two midwives and Kento would be more than enough support and people that you could handle.

It was odd to think about, in only two weeks—if everything went according to plan—you would be a mother. A part of you ached at the knowledge that you had no role model to build anything from. Your mother was excellent at giving you the best money could buy as long as it strengthened your chances of status, wealth, and a man who would give you a child to carry that on to the next generation. You had learned how to work hard, but she never taught you the ability to set healthy boundaries.

She had yet to call you since that day you left Sendai. Had yet to text you or even pass a message through Rory. It hurt. It hurt more than you thought it would at the fact that your daughter would probably never know her grandmother. But it gave you the strength and resilience to realize that you would never leave your children around her. You would never allow her to expose your children to the trauma that you suffered.

But even with the absence of your own, you gained a mother through Chiyo. She was everything you had always wanted, and it brought you peace to know she would at least have one grandmother and grandfather to show her nothing but love.

The vibration of your phone, pulled you from your thoughts, blinking down at the device and smiling gently at the name of the contact. Your greeting was already queued up when you answered the phone.

“Kento, I’m fine. Please no more calling unless you are dying.”

The quiet huff through the phone had your stomach fluttering in response, your chest warming on its own.

“What a very crude thing to say—”

“So you’re not dying then? Impaled on a stick? Your pants fell down and now you’re about to stroke out from the mortification?”

“You’re insufferable.”

You giggled softly, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach as the sound rumbled up your throat and out of your mouth.

“I’ll stop teasing. I promise I’m doing well. Are you having fun—”

“Nanamin, get off the phone!” Gojo’s voice called from the background. Kento sighed deeply into the receiver, his annoyance permeating through the speaker and onto your cheek and ear. He muttered a quick and solemn goodbye, asking you to call the police if he did not return tonight, before hanging up the phone.

***

“How much will you charge for this?”

Ome watched in fascination as you pressed the wooden rib against the side of the wet and quickly spinning clay. While it was marvelous to sit and rest your body every forty-five minutes, it had proved to be a chore that only tired you out. You refused to acknowledge the heaviness in your eyes, even more so when Ome threw more knowing glares in your direction. You had to finish this commission today or you probably wouldn’t have the strength to do so before the baby came.

“I worked out a few quotes with Hina. I’ll make a pretty penny but nothing excessive.”

The low tones of R&B played through the small speaker on your large concrete table in the middle of your studio. Your belly was full from miso soup and egg rolls that Ome had practically dragged you from your stool to eat. The night was drawing to a close and Kento would be home soon.

“I haven’t received one text from Gojo. Kento must actually be having a good time.”

You threw her an eyebrow from her words, smirking softly as you pressed a wet sponge to the side of your clay, the grey brown color shining slowly with each pass.

“Are you going to finally tell me how things are going? I’ve been trying to remain respectful but—”

“Things are going well.”

Her interruption made you look up at her. Her eyes were locked on your spinning work of clay, silver irises watching each rotation and trying not to look up at you. You held back the quip on your tongue as you really took in her expression. For the first time in a while, she looked vulnerable. It wasn’t as if it was rare from her, at least when it came to you. Ome had no problem expressing how she really felt around you, her honesty was the one thing that would never fade or change with time. But when it came to men, that was a different level of openness that was hard for her.

She despised them; she hated their manipulative behavior, the nonchalance to take and take from women who were largely preyed upon and taken advantage of. She hated that every man she had given a chance in her life had stepped on her time and time again. It made it hard to trust them. It made that wall she kept around her heart icier and only fueled her hostile behavior towards them.

And it wasn’t as if they didn’t deserve it. In your honest opinion, men never deserved much. But a part of you had always felt that Ome deserved to be happy, deserved to have a happy marriage and maybe a few children if that’s what she wanted. She was doing surprisingly well, until her ex decided to cheat and cheat and cheat some more without any regard to the world around him.

The back and forth that you saw from Ome and Gojo was comical at best, but deep down you could see that twinkle in her eye grow with each day, with each insult she threw up at him and with each laugh he shot down at her.

So to see her react so strongly, to not even bark at you with an insult with no heat to it, it was unexpected.

She cleared her throat, pursing her lips before flickering her eyes up to you.

“It’s going really well, actually. He’s been—he’s proving to really be someone I can depend on. As obnoxious and fucking annoying as he is, he cares about the people closest to him.”

You hummed softly, caressing the makeshift vase with both of your hands.

“So…do you think he will live up to the mark? For you?”

You kept your eyes on your work, watching the clay bend as a response to the press of your fingers on its sides. The music played softly between you both, gentle notes floating around the room and settling on both of your shoulders.

“Yea…I think he does. Or I think he will.”

“Hmmm, Ome Gojo. That has a nice ring to it—”

“I give you an inch and you take a fucking mile!”

Your giggles pealed through the dense room, ricocheting off the walls and hitting Ome’s back, the force of it causing her own shoulders to shake as her raspy giggles joined yours.

You had used the wire cutter to separate the bottom of your work from the wheel when you heard the lock of the front door turning, the door swinging open and Gojo’s loud voice tearing through the calm atmosphere of your home.

“The birthday boy is here!!!”

Ome rolled her eyes as she washed the remnants of clay from your throwing wheel, loading a curse on her lips as his tall form sauntered into the room. Even disheveled and windblown, his beautiful white hair made him look like the hottest catalog model you would ever see. Round sunglasses had been pushed up, bringing his bangs with it and casting alien blue eyes about the room as he loomed over you and leaned down to press a quick peck to your cheek.

“Beautiful as always, how are you doing?”

You rolled your eyes in reply, a smirk splaying on your face as your eyes took in Yuji and Geto as they walked into the studio as well. Yuji’s already large eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets as he took in your studio, not even offering a hello as he began to walk around the room, pulling a softly chuckling Geto with him as he began to throw out a barrage of questions.

“I’m doing well. I’m sure Kento made you ask me.”

Gojo scoffed playfully, a hand pressing to his chest in dramatics as he spoke loudly.

“Can’t I care about my friend and godchild? Who do you take me for?”

“A whore.”

Gojo gawked down at you, face red and mouth curling into a devious smile as Yuji’s chuckles rang from the background.

“I’m not a whore. Ome wholeheartedly believes in castration as a punishment for insolence. And the last thing I need is someone trying to cut off my hefty, throbbing, veiny co—”

“Finish that sentence and see what happens.”

You heard his voice before you saw him, deep and low, wafting into the room and wrapping around your body. Your eyes caught his form, tall and imposing as he walked into the room and leaned against the door frame. He looked incredibly relaxed, even the threat that he had thrown Gojo’s way was surprisingly without bite. His blonde locks were windswept and carded out of his face, loose tendrils falling from the hold to rest against his forehead. A pair of black jeans and a nice short sleeved shirt that hugged his shirt in the most delicious way, his Cartier watch shining against the bright lights of your studio, the smell of his cologne not even strong but still seeming to drift through the room and slide up your nostrils, and brown eyes filled with a heavy look had your heart picking up in speed.

God he looked good.

Gojo rolled his eyes theatrically, turning around to stick out his tongue at his friend before he was strolling over to Ome to hound her instead.

It only took a few minutes of pestering from Gojo and relentless questions from Yuji before Ome and Geto were ushering them out, wishing us both a goodnight and Kento a happy birthday before the house was empty besides you both.

You were beautiful. He probably said it to himself at least twenty times a day but right now it hit him harder than before. You were washing your hands at the sink, your heavy curls pulled up into a messy bun, your body dressed in black cotton overalls and a white short-sleeved shirt, your throat humming a tune to the song playing through the speaker. He recognized it, a song he had heard in passing once years ago that had made him buy the entire vinyl not even an hour later. You turned toward him as you dried your hands, a smile growing on your features as he walked closer to you. The shea butter from your cinnamon skin wafted up his nose, making him a little more lightheaded than what he already was. Your cheek had a smear of clay, something that he was surprised you hadn’t noticed but had his chest thumping in an almost uncomfortable way as his heart soared in his chest.

“Did you have a good birthday?”

Gojo, Yuji and Geto had shown up at your house that morning, dragging a more than reluctant Kento out of his house to at least do something for his day. A small hole in the wall bakery that you had found a few weeks prior and had remained untouched by Kento was his first stop that morning. His eyes displayed his excitement almost as soon as he saw the bread behind the thick glass windows and he showed his enthusiasm by getting more than one melonpan, smacking Gojo’s greedy and sticky hands away at every second.

He was shocked but filled with warmth when he had been surprised with a private tour of a whiskey distillery from his favorite company. An entire hour drinking different notes and tastes of his favorite alcohol had his stomach fluttering and his cheeks tinged pink. His words were a little looser as they dined at the best Korean BBQ establishment in Nakameguro. He had been treated to a private booth for him and his friends, away from the loud and yelling crowd of people but still immersed in the atmosphere of good food, excellent service, and the best whiskey he had ever had. Gojo had been less obnoxious than usual, Geto more boisterous as a way of universal balance, Yuji more loud but always respectful of his sensei. Always questioning, always curious, always loving to everyone and the world around him.

His day had been spent around people he loved doing the things only he enjoyed.

You had planned it all for him, content to make sure he spent his day loved and happy.

By the time he had walked through the door of your house, he was confident and finally accepting of that weird feeling in his chest that he had spent months trying to either decipher or push away.

“I had an excellent birthday. Thank you for treating me to a great day.”

You shrugged in nonchalance, your smile growing and then faltering as he pulled you close to him with what your stomach would allow. He brought your hands up to wrap around his neck, his own falling into the soft flesh of your waist and his feet falling into a step that you realized was a gentle sway to the music in the background.

You looked up at him in denial, an eyebrow throwing up to your forehead as you settled into step with him.

“You know this song?”

“Yes. In fact, I happen to like this song.”

You couldn’t help the bark of laughter, the sound heavy with disbelief. He hummed down at you, playful admonishment rolling off his shoulders and onto your face.

“Why must you be in denial when you find out trivial things about me? As if I am some creature that walks your halls.”

“You’ve always been such a mystery to me.” You giggled to yourself, ignoring his questioning look. “I do this thing when I find out weird things about you. I treat it like a bingo card, each new block is a trait or quirk that I never would have expected. Reality television, your R&B collection, your love of romcoms, and even the fact that you snore. All of those things that would seem ‘normal’ to any other man have always been odd when it comes to you. You carry yourself in a way that makes you a man who likes to stay in the background, but who you are only makes you stand out more. You’re unique and compiled of a web of ropes and knots that would take only the closest to you to help unravel. So no, you’re not some creature. You’re just a man I never expected to know, let alone be with.”

He simply hummed beneath his breath, his lips pursing as he swayed with you.

“It’s a compliment, Kento. So take it.”

“Ah yes, anything you wish. Please forgive me.”

You giggled into his chest, pressing your cheek into the fabric of his shirt.

“I hope you realize that I feel the same when it comes to you.”

You didn’t respond to his statement, choosing instead to listen to the rumble of his words in your ear as his chest vibrated with sound against you.

“You were a mystery to me. I could never understand how a woman as hardworking and as kind and caring as you could have a mother who could never acknowledge your existence. I could never understand how someone who could take command of almost any conference room she walked into, secretly loved to be covered in clay and paint and create the most beautiful things with her hands. You insert yourself in everything you do, and you have an innate talent to always hit the mark.” He chuckled to himself absentmindedly, his eyes flitting about the room as he took in all of your work. “I have this theory…similar to your bingo card. In my mind, I only have a certain amount of chairs for the people in my life. My intern, Kugisaki actually thinks the same way…The seats are already predetermined by me, already situated in my head and dusted off for those to sit. My parents, Aiko, Kaya, and Yu were automatically given those seats. Yuji enthusiastically asked for his and while it took me awhile to accept, I gave him one. Gojo and Geto and Shoko demanded their seats, shook and pestered and annoyed me to the point where I couldn’t deny the care and love they had for me and I relinquished my hold just to appease even though I secretly was happy with my decision…But not you.”

The song had faded away and been placed with another, equally as soft as you both disappeared within each other.

“You pulled up your own chair. It was your own, crafted of your own design with a simple cotton cushion and sleek mahogany corners. You drug it across shiny hardwood floors, scratching the surface and plopping down in front of everyone. In front of my parents, Aiko, Yu, Geto, Gojo, Shoko, Yuji, everyone. You sat right in front of me, demanding my attention—commanding it and only promising me wonderful things if I accepted you. The more I denied, the more I was mean and indignant, the more you backed away and the more I hated how it made me feel. But I’m glad I stopped fighting.”

He exhaled softly against you, your head rising with the movement of his chest.

“You are the very best thing that has happened to me. You love those around you with every fiber of your being. You are the smartest person I have ever met. You have such a beautiful talent that I’m only lucky enough to witness. You are the first person in my life that has made me laugh this much…and—and I think what makes me pull you closer the most is that you’ve made me…decide to finally be me. That night when you yelled at me, when you were so angry and desperate for me to acknowledge myself, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone actually see me. I’ve never had someone force me to eat, force me to bathe, force me look at my grief and my flaws and show me that I could take control of it. It was an overwhelming feeling and you are the only person who has been able to make me see that. I’m sure I sound very sappy saying this but, you mean everything to me. And to know that you also are giving me a child that I’ll soon get to meet…I am unbelievably lucky.”

You were quiet as you let his words soak in, as they fell from his lips and leeched into your skin, making your blood pump faster and your stomach flip and twist in a manner that had your heart racing.

“Careful Kento, such strong words. You talk as if you love me.”

You had meant for your words to be lighthearted, to serve as a distraction as you tried to calm the frantic beating of your heart which was only increasing in pace the longer he didn’t answer, you both still swaying to the music around you.

“What if I do?”

Your heart took a sudden lurch, flipping in your chest painfully as you pulled away to look up at him, your nerves a live wire as you took in the implication of what he was saying. Even though his eyes were dilated from a slight buzz and the ruddiness of his cheeks made him seem more playful than usual, you couldn’t deny the fierce seriousness in his gaze. It was unmoving, unyielding, completely honest and locking you in place. The corners of his full lips curved just slightly.

“What if I am talking as if I love you? What would you say then?”

You opened your mouth to speak, your mouth gaping like a fish as you realized that yes, yes he was saying exactly what you thought. There was no denying it now. There was no need to. Over time, Kento had slowly began to cut himself open for you, letting bits and pieces of himself fall at your feet until only the most personal and vulnerable parts of him were left.

Love.

Your mind was reeling, struggling for the right words, your ears throbbing with the sound of blood thunderous through your veins. You slid your hands from around his neck, trailing them down to rest on his pectorals as you bit your lip harshly and ignored the sting of tears in your eyes. You cleared your throat, relaxing further into him.

“I…I would say—I suppose I would ask that you look at me and say it again. Just so I can determine if you’re truly honest.”

A chuckle; deep and gentle against you, mirth and warmth suddenly pungent and heavy between you both as he silently commanded your attention by placing a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head up to look at him.

“I love you.”

It was effortless. Without nervousness or anxiety or tension. Three words that fell from full lips like water, simple and common place as breathing but still carrying the intensity and deeper meaning of them. You expected it to hit you like a train, to shock your system with force and cold water and make you rigid and anxious against him.

But you found yourself exhaling softly, relaxing further into the gentle hold he had on you, your eyes fluttering as you tried desperately to stop the tears as quickly as they were coming.

“You do?”

The words had slipped out before you could stop them, the last bits of your nerves falling from your lips and down to the floor. He didn’t offer a different reaction to your response, the serious and vulnerable expression on his face had remained unchanged, resolute, and firm.

“Very much so. Do you doubt me? I’ve told you this so many times, you shouldn’t say things that do not make sense.”

The wet giggle shooting from your mouth shook your chest, rattling loose those tendrils of anxiety that had plagued you for years and for once letting them dissolve away to be ignored for hopefully a long time. You shook your head, sliding your arms back up to wrap around his neck and meeting his gaze again. Your real response was surprisingly sitting comfortably on your tongue, ready for what felt like months. However, he interrupted before you could speak.

“No teasing remarks? Quips about my words? I’m shocked, truly.”

You couldn’t help the way you laughed again, the sound wet with building tears as you sniffed softly and gently pinched the skin of his nape.

“I love you too.”

He pulled the words in, let them collect in the back of his throat before sliding down to his belly and settling in a delicious way that had his cheeks a little warmer than before. The corners of his smile grew just a little bit more, hints of pearly whites flashing before he was bending a head down to press his lips to yours, sealing the connection between you both. He had thought it would be incredibly dramatic filled with tears and nauseating and continuous professions of love.  But the interaction was something special that could only represent you both. Simple with a hint of nostalgia, a small trace of teasing to bring you a little closer to him.

“Let’s get you off of your feet. I’ll rub your back, I’m sure its hurting. Would that be alright?”

You bit your lip, your eyes swimming with tears again as you began to realize he had probably felt like this for some time. Every day, every interaction that he had given you had always been filled with care, protection, and just a little bit of love. At first small but still there in his own way until it was everywhere all at once.

You blinked quickly, clearing your vision just a little so you could see him better as you nodded up at him.

“Yes please.”

He pressed another smooth kiss to your lips, the smell of his cologne settling in your bones and reaffirming your tiredness. He pulled away from you and made his way for the door, lacing his fingers in yours and taking you with him.

***

She knocked at your door a day before your due date, an intense contraction that pulled you from your sleep in the early hours on July 14th that grew and grew until you realized there would probably be no stopping it.

The first midwife came when your contractions were pretty far apart and your water had broken, helping Kento fill the birthing tub and get general supplies ready for you as you did your best to breathe and distract yourself from the pain. The contractions weren’t too painful at first, almost like a very intense period cramp that you had familiarized yourself with at a young age. They were manageable, annoying but manageable.

Kento did what he does best, love and support you. He didn’t hover, didn’t obsess over you even though you could tell every flicker of pain made him feel more helpless than ever. He rubbed your back, helped you through each contraction by talking and breathing with you, brushed the curls over your shoulders when they got in the way and even made sure you were walking and moving when you could.

He was spiraling. On the outside, he was cool and collected, offering you every bit of support you needed without being too much. But every grunt and moan of pain, every squeeze of his hand as your face contorted into expressions he never wanted to see, every continued flicker of pain was enough to have his stomach in knots. He knew you wanted to do this unmedicated. In fact, he completely agreed and respected that decision. But he hated that bringing life into the world had to be so much, so hurtful, so risky. He would do anything to take the pain away.

But he had to be strong for you. Because right now, the fact that you were going through immeasurable pain to bring an actual human into the world, you were the strongest of anyone in the room.

By the time your contractions were almost three minutes apart and his hand was almost broken, the second midwife showed up. They took control of the room, offering you the right guidance without overshadowing Kento’s presence as well.

“Kento.” You had practically groaned out his name, your face covered with a light sheen of sweat as you sat in the warm tub of water with only a loose sports bra on. He was already next to you, rubbing your shoulders intermittently as you groaned low and long into the air. “Maybe we can…maybe we can go to the hospital. Ask for an epidural? Ask to be admitted?”

He hummed against your temple, kissing the skin.

“Is that really what you want? We can try, but is that what you want?”

You knew he was right. For as much pain as you were in, you refused medication, refused to have doctors you didn’t know touching you, refused to be neglected. You moaned softly in acquiescence and listened to him chuckle softly as you felt him pull your curls into a high bun and wipe the sweat from your neck.

You were at your wits end, your body riddled with pain to a degree that it was hard for you to even comprehend. Your lower stomach ached, your back was on fire, your thighs felt as if they would fall from your body, you could feel your resolve and strength slipping as you gripped one hand with a midwife next and one hand of Kento’s as he sat outside of the tub on the other side, praising you softly in your ear.

“I can’t. I can’t, I can’t I’m sorry, but I can’t.”  

You shook your head frantically, looking over at Kento with tears in your eyes as your body worked of its own accord. You could try all you wanted to make it stop, she was coming one way or another.

“I can’t Kento—”

“You can. You’re doing so well, angel. So, so well. You’re almost there.” You shook your head in reply, breathing harshly as your muscles began to bunch and twist with what you knew was another god awful contraction. “You’ve spent almost a full day, working hard to bring her here. Don’t you want to see her?” A harsh nod. He smiled softly at you, his own eyes filled with exhaustion and excitement as he wiped your forehead again. “Almost 24 hours and no medication, no hospital intervention, just you and trusting your body. You’re so much stronger than you think. I’ll be right here, I promise. Through every step. Just focus and breathe and she will be here soon. Can you do that for me?”

A wet exhale and moan, your eyes filling with tears as you nodded softly at him and turned back to the second midwife at your waist, her eyes assessing every contraction.

It was probably another hour when those contractions began to shift into the need to push. But you were there now, you could almost feel the end in your body, could practically taste new life in the air even though you were sweating out of this world, shaking in pain and squeezing Kento’s hand in a way you were sure would need a brace later.

“Keep breathing with me, baby.”

“Your hand—”

“Is perfectly fine. The only thing I’m focused on are you and her. My hand will survive.”

You were a sobbing mess, pushing again and again with the midwife’s instruction and growing more desolate as it felt like you were making no progress. You knew you were; the midwife had kept you updated enthusiastically with every push. But god did it not feel like it.

“We’re in the home stretch now. Give me more pushes but bear down a little more, give it your all for me. Nanami, keep doing what you’re doing. Keep her focused for me and she will be here soon.”

Just those last few words seemed to be the motivation you needed, the pain still there but instead fueling a strength you were surprised began to bud in your bones. You listened to each instruction, bore down with every contraction, soaked in Kento’s words in your ear as you got closer and closer.

“She’s right there! Give me one more honey!”

Kento gripped your hand tighter, kissing your temple before you were moaning harshly in pain and bearing down with all you had without forcing her out.

The feeling was odd, an intense pressure and burning that caught you by surprise and only spurred you on further as you practically felt her leave.

At 12:25 pm on July 15th, she was born.

The first thing you felt was oddly empty, a connection and warmth between you and her almost severed instantly. You collapsed against Kento, crying as you loosened your grip on his hand, your lungs burning as you caught your breath. You could hear the praise against your temple as he kissed it, his words uncharacteristically wet as your mind quickly snapped to the thought of her.

“You did so well. So, so well.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, your neck and then the side of your cheek, his own emotions raging and out of control as he tried and failed to blink away the wetness in his eyes.

The second thing you felt was pure, overwhelming and unbridled happiness as the sound of her cries filled the room. Your eyes darted down to the midwife at your waist, wide and transfixed even though you were still crying as she nestled the screaming baby onto the skin of your chest. You were instantly alert, quickly forgetting about the sharp aches of your body as she wiggled against you.

She was a little pale, her entire body practically wrinkled, but her face as smooth and expressive as ever. She had what looked to be his nose, buttoned and a little blunt at the tip. Her eyes were closed but the eyebrows were long and faint. And her hair, so much hair splattered to her head, wet and damp but still light enough that you could tell would be a lighter brown than yours.

Even screaming, with a set of lungs you were sure would be you and Kento’s downfall, she was everything.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with tears before offering him a shaky smile. His eyes were locked on her, misty with a large smile on his face before he looked to you and smiled further.

“Look at her, isn’t she perfect Kento?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he was reaching down to wiggle a soft wet toe on her feet, her cries dying down, only offering a disgruntled whimper every now and then as her senses were overwhelmed with the world she had been thrust into.

“Absolutely perfect, she’s beautiful.”

They let Kento cut the cord, his face the most unguarded you had ever seen as the scissors cut through the umbilical. You had pulled off your bra a while ago, using any opportunity to hold her close and get her as much skin contact as you could. Once the afterbirth was delivered, you gave her up to be assessed and cleaned up, and one of the midwives helped you into the shower. By the time you were clean and wearing a long t-shirt, the pool had been emptied and put away and Kento was waiting for you to guide you back to your room.

You were unbelievably tired. So, so tired. But the pull of her kept you going, kept you walking down the hall and crawling into your bed before a midwife was nestling her now bundled form into your chest, congratulating you softly on a healthy and strong delivery.

You hadn’t realized the midwives had gone until Kento was sliding into the bed next to you, pulling you both close and resting his chin on your shoulder, his brown eyes looking down softly at his sleeping daughter.

“One of them will be back tomorrow to check on you but they left their contact if anything comes up for the rest of the day.”

You were humming in reply, not really listening as you stared down at her, tracing a smooth and chubby cheek with one of your fingers. Now that she was dry you could really see the light brown color of her hair, so much of it that poked out from under the sage green newborn beanie and curled just slightly at the ends. Her skin color probably wouldn’t settle for a few more months and when she did open her eyes, there was no mistaking the deep brown that looked at you. She was you and Kento’s daughter in every way.

“Are you sure you would like them to come see her? You’re not too tired?”

“I am, but I want them to be here.”

You turned to him, offering her silently and watching warmly as he wrung his hands and opened his arms, letting you set her gently in them. He exhaled instantly; his eyes locked on her as he took her in. The sight was almost comical, a baby so small nestled in the muscular arms and large stature of her father. You would probably have to fight the mothers off with a stick if you let him out in public.

“Oh she’s wonderful.”

His parents were the first to show up, tiptoeing into your room quietly and Chiyo’s eyes immediately filling with tears when she saw the bundle that was still in her son’s arms. They washed their hands without you asking, and even Santo was filled with excitement, his odd green eyes practically dancing as he looked down at her. Chiyo walked over to your side of the bed, pulling you in a gentle hug that was warming you instantaneously.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

You blinked away the tears again, soaking in the maternal aura from her and nestling it deep inside before you were pulling away and shaking your head.

“I’m tired, but I feel okay. I need nothing I promise.”

You watched as Santo cooed at her from over his son’s shoulder, a large smile on his face as he soaked in the sight of his granddaughter. Santo spent almost twenty minutes holding her, rocking her around the room and talking absentmindedly as Kento collapsed against you, resting his head on your shoulder—a growing trait of relaxed nonchalance that you hoped would follow into fatherhood—as he talked to his mother.

Chiyo was patient through it all, but you could feel the impatience radiating off of her as she glared at her husband. You held in the urge to laugh as you watched her eyes tic before practically holding out her hands and beckoning him to her. Those brown eyes were misting immediately as your daughter whimpered a little in her arms, opening matching eyes to look up at her grandmother before closing them and falling back into slumber.

“Oh my, oh honey she’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Of course, she would be. Have you thought of a name?”

Kento elbowed you softly, burying his face into your neck. He had given you full control over her name, content to agree with it no matter what.

“Ulani Chiyo Nanami.”

His mother widened her eyes and looked up at you, shock coloring her features as she took the name in.

“African American families and most American families have a middle name. And…you’ve been someone in my life that has shown me nothing but love and belonging and a care that I should have had from my own mother. I want my daughter to have a name from someone who means a lot not only to me but to others around her and who cares about everyone.” She was silent as she took the words in, the growing silence making you nervous and antsy. “I hope I didn’t overstep—”

“You didn’t. It’s…it’s perfect. I’m honored and so, so happy.”

She chuckled and reached a hand over to stroke the skin of your cheek before pulling away and looking back down to your baby. You felt him bury his nose further into your skin, breathing the natural tones in deeply as his heart swelled in his chest.

Your friends had thankfully not crowded around you when they made their way in your room an hour after Kento’s parents had departed. Yuji, who’s expressive eyes had remained locked on the bundle in your arms, remained quiet and frozen as Ulani was passed around and cooed to. Gojo was practically fighting off a tantrum as Geto talked softly to her, his calm deep purple eyes watching the slight pucker of her lips with a smile.

“You’ve held her long enough, Geto. It’s my turn.”

Geto ignored him, instead walking over to set Ulani back in your arms.

“She’s wonderful. I’m a proud uncle.”

You thanked him, your eyes still on Yuji’s frozen form against the wall. After a little encouragement from Kento at his perch next to you, Yuji made his way over slowly, sinking onto the bed at your side. He held her carefully, stiff and ramrod straight as Ulani nestled further into his chest. He relaxed quickly against her, rocking her small form before he began to shoot off hushed and random questions about her measurements to you and Kento.

Gojo was practically in shambles by the time Ome had walked into your room. Everyone had a turn with her, everyone was able to hold her and gaze down at her softness, but by the time it was his turn, everyone else had gone and only he and Ome remained.

Her eyes were already swimming with tears as she sat down by your waist. Uncharacteristic tears making her silver eyes already luminescent as Gojo sank down next to her, looking over her shoulder as you handed your daughter to her. Ome’s eyes fluttered happily, a large smile breaking on her face as she chuckled gently down at Ulani.

“Look at you…so lovely and you’ve only been here a few hours.”

The pure adoration in her eyes was hard to miss and even Gojo found himself soaking it up as much as he could.

“Kento and I thought…we were wondering if you both would like to be her godparents?”

Ome’s eyes widened to a degree you would have never expected, her soft expression already vulnerable and only beginning to crack more as she shook out a small sob, nodding profusely and unable to produce any words.

Gojo however held a look of confusion, his cheeks rosy in surprise.

“I don’t understand…I’m sure you would have wanted Yu to be the godfather. I’m not upset, I expected you to always choose him. But I know you are only choosing me because Yu is gone.”

Ome threw him a vicious glare but Kento spoke up before she could chastise him.

“While that may be true, the fact of the matter is that Yu is gone now. Even when he was alive, I wanted you to be in her life. But besides Yu, as much as you drive me absolutely insane, I know you would do anything to protect and love her. I understand if you are upset, I can’t take away that feeling. But I want you to know that you are the next person I would have chosen to step up to the plate. If you do not want to, then of course we both understand.”

Ome finally slid your daughter into Gojo’s arms, her small body practically eclipsed by his tall form. His white hair fell down from his face, casting a shadow over his eyes as his full lips grew into a wide smile. He stroked her chubby cheek with a long finger, trailing it up to circle a light brown curl before he was giggling softly.

“Of course, I would like to be her godfather. I know I was only joking before when y/n was pregnant but, I think secretly I wanted to be tethered to her in some way. I’m honored. And Nanamin, I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

“I know you will.”

Ulani chose that moment to yawn, her small mouth opening wide and stretching her squishy face, a whimper and babylike noise gurgling from her throat before she was nestling further into her blanket and falling asleep.

“Obviously I’m the best choice for the job.”

Kento rolled his eyes harshly, shooting him a small noise of indignation.

“Give me my daughter and get out.”

Gojo stuck his tongue out at his friend, choosing instead to look back down at your daughter and disappear into atmosphere of her for the time being. Ome used to lapse in time to fuss over you, fixing your bun, picking at your clothes, and asking if you had eaten. She rejected all words from Kento, insisting that she wanted to help at least a little before leaving and disappeared into the kitchen to make you both lunch.

You weren’t sure if it was from the sudden movement of the bed, the slight increase in volume of voices, or just mother nature’s timing, but Ulani instantly began to fuss in Gojo’s arms. She wiggled in her blanket, whimpered until she was outright crying in his hold. You felt your body instantly react, your stomach twisting and chest practically pulsing in discomfort as Gojo opened her blankets to check her over.

“She’s wet. Let me go change her and I’ll be right back.”

You held back the urge to protest, whining softly in your spot as he disappeared out the door with your crying daughter.

“He’s trying to butter me up.”

You smacked Kento’s chest in response, snorting up at him before shaking your head in admonition. You knew he was joking, could practically feel his euphoria and happiness radiating from him and seeping into the pores of your skin.

By the time Gojo returned with her, she was still crying but not as intensely as before. He brought her to you, gently setting her in your arms.

“Thank you, Gojo. She’s probably hungry.”

“I’ll go help Ome in the kitchen.”

Kento helped you situate yourself in the bed as you pulled out a sleeve and helped her latch onto you. Your midwives had truly thought it latching for you would be a little bit of a struggle, but Ulani of course took to it like a pro, catching on instantly. You relaxed into Kento’s chest from behind you, his warm muscles cradling your back as his large form hugged you closer, molding you both together as your daughter nursed in your arms.

Her expressive eyes shined up at you, trying to make out what she could see in front of her as her eyelids drooped occasionally from being fed.

“We did good, huh?”

He chuckled softly, pressing a smooth kiss to the crease of your neck and resting his chin atop of your head.

“We did great. You did great.”

You scoffed softly, your eyes still locked on the deep brown of her irises as you spoke.

“I suppose your seed helped. Even drunk and wrapped in a condom, you somehow got through my IUD and knocked me up. Your father says that strong sperm runs in the Nanami line.”

“He is as crude as you are.”

You tried to hold in as much of your giggle as you could, careful not to jostle her.

“Thank you…her middle name. My mother is over the moon, as am I. When did you decide on it?”

“I knew her first name after only a month or two. I had an urge to give her your mother’s name as well, but I didn’t actually feel confident until the baby shower. She’s the best mother I could ever have and she’s a wonderful woman. A strong woman. To give that to Ulani was something that felt right to me.”

He hummed appreciatively against you, a large hand coming up to caress the light brown curls that poked from under her beanie. She reacted to the touch, her eyes shifting over to look up at her father, lips puckering quickly as she nursed from you. She probably couldn’t see much, but the thought of her recognizing him had Kento smiling down at her, his heart growing ten times in size as he cradled you both closer to him.

[droughtofapathy]

wait, what is the bernadette and jan thing? (i am a sucker for broadway drama, and falling out drama is way more fun than affair drama)

Well, look. It must be a very awkward environment if one person is a major star but has perhaps not gotten the kindest of reviews, nor is said person giving a well-directed performance, and the other person is receiving critical acclaim left and right but is in no way a star, despite being the objectively superior actress. This sort of tension may well spill over onto the stage in a certain way.

I'm actually going to let Mary Beth Peil tell the tale in full because she's my primary source on this (and boy, does she have no qualms about spilling the tea). This from her chapter of "Here's to the Ladies: Conversations with More of the Great Women of Musical Theatre."

Well, anyway. That's the gist of it. Did Jan technically start it? Yes. But I support women's wrongs. And she was better. She was so much better. But the show closed (was evicted from the theatre to make way for Evita), Jan was nominated for the Tony, the production moved to LA and Bernadette did not, Vicki Clark came on to replace as Sally (giving a far better performance, and you can quote me on that. She is our premiere living Sally.), and that was that. I don't know that I'd call it a falling out because I'm not sure they were ever in to begin with. But it's a little bygone drama. Jan is no longer with us, and Bernadette is about to open a new Sondheim revue on Broadway.

Now, wait until you hear about the far more delicious drama backstage at Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. Mary Beth Peil really is just a fount of gossip.