#tried something new because I never work with layouts

[skyshipper]

HAPPY STAR WARS DAY! MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU

[0strawberrysorbet0]

𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

Not too happy with this chapter but hope it's good enough 😕

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part one ← Part two → Part three

Summary: When Charlie is called to heaven for a meeting instead of her father she is ecstatic but she meets a boy with some very familiar features..

Warnings: cursing, Adam mentioned, rlly weird layout, idk what else, probs spelling mistakes and weird grammer

Where am I??" Was the only thought coursing through the boy's mind?

He couldn't hear anything but his thoughts, everything else was muffled as if he was underwater, he strolled mindlessly throughout the forest, there were lush plants and exotic flowers of every tone and shape.

He could see birds and insects, things they did not have in his new home...

As he walked forward, it was like he was being pulled, like he didn't control it...

He heard a voice call for him...

"ƙׁׅյׁׅ݊ꪀյׁׅժׁׅ݊ᝯׁׅ֒꯱ dear?? Where-" was all he heard, voice silencing before he heard a yell...

He couldn't make out words but he heard a male's voice shout, who were they shouting for??

As he stumbled through the thicker, darker patch of forest he reached a tree, an apple, sparkling and juicy, shaped like a heart hung from a branch. Just as he went to grab it,

someone clung to the skin on his leg.. Or something.. Biting down on his flesh.. His pale skin turned pink and oozing a cherry-coloured syrup.

As he turned to see the blood dripping he shot up, dripping in a cold sweat as his face whitened.

That dream. Again.

It had been haunting him, it happened every so often but now more than ever. It was always the same.

He wanders, a woman calling for someone and a man screaming then sees the Apple and tries to grab it before being bitten. Then waking up before being able to see the creature.

But what was it?.. He sat up on his bed, grabbed a yellow shoebox from under his bed, he placed it onto his milky white duvet.

He peeled the lid off the box, revealing a little rubber duck... He didn't know where it was from but he had had it for as long as he could remember, there were a few photos of him and his friends... Mainly Emily.

There were a few random things, buttons and feathers, but he finally found what he was looking for, a folded sheet of parchment. He opened it revealing a drawing of the forest, mainly the path he walked and the paths he could see.

He took out the red pen and drew the figure of a woman, shouting... He couldn't see the figure's face or features but he could tell it was a woman.

His father could never see this, nor Sera. They'd think he was plotting against something.. Which he'd never do. He wasn't a monster.

At the bottom of the box was a small gift from Emily, a little box that had been wrapped with gold ribbon. Inside was an apple... An actual real apple.

He hadn't a clue where she got it but it was gorgeous. So shiny and juicy, plump and red, a delicious bloody red...

He had never understood why they were forbidden anyways, yes because of The Fall but surely the fruit wasn't the problem..

He couldn't blame Eve.

He wouldn't have resisted either.

His silence was broken by knocking on his door. "(M/N)? Son? I'm heading off to my meeting, there's some food on the table, take care!"

It was his dad, it was thoughtful of the man to let him know he was leaving but it scared the boy shitless.

He got himself dressed and got to work on his heavenly duties, he strolled through a building, looking for Emily, he had to tell her about his dream.

As he walked past a meeting room he could hear a familiar screeching voice, Adam.

And a voice he hadn't heard before?.. A young girl? Whatever. It wasn't Emily so it didn't matter, he continued to walk until the voice got louder, almost like it was behind him

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!"

Miss? He turned to see the person who had been shouting, it was a girl.

She had red glowing eyes with the sclera being a strong yellow color.

Her hair was the same straw blonde colour as his hair, it was tied up into a strange ponytail, in circular shapes almost, she was wearing a blood-red suit and her cheeks were rosy and pink.

What a strange angel... She didn't even look like an angel...

He just turned and continued to walk, going to find Emily.

..............................................................................................

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven and ruled by beings of Pure light, Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil..." A blonde girl read aloud,

As she flicked through the pages she looked at the part in between the section where Lucifer and Lilith tempted Eve and the banishment.

It was burnt, the small gap, unnoticeable at first glance, but with the number of times she had read it, she could tell someone had burnt out a few pages, burning part of the story...

"Charlie?" Her girlfriend said at the doorframe, an extermination had just happened, she looked out the window at the burning city.

She needed to put a stop to this, these sinners surely didn't deserve it. Well at least some of them.

The day seemed to melt away quickly, they had talked about commercials and... Well they all had some unique ideas...

Her phone started to ring, and she jumped up and went to answer it.

It was her father? Strange... He never called.

But he wanted her to go to heaven instead of him? Holy shit... Maybe she could change heaven's mind after all...

Before she knew it she was there, heaven..

When Charlie arrived she noticed how pristine everything was, light, bright, the place was practically blinded by white light.

She now stood before The Adam, or as he called himself (much to her dismay) The original dick. She had put all the ideas she could (before he'd interrupt) onto the table but they smushed it all.

To sum it up... The meeting went horribly. She had not only been turned down but completely ignored. Her whole life she had believed angels to be kind, caring creatures... There was a reason they made it up there after all.

But she wasn't so sure now. She wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

As she was leaving she saw a pair of wings stroll past the door, they were full and stuck out proudly, glowing a bright white. The feathers looked almost like cotton candy as they surfed the breeze, one or two floating off.

One had dropped at her feet. She picked it up before trying to get a look at the angel, they had long blonde hair, and she presumed it was a woman.

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!" She shouted about the feathers, maybe the angel would need them? Or maybe she just wanted to see the angel's face. She couldn't tell but she felt somewhat connected to the being.

The angel turned gracefully, piercing eyes staring through her, beautiful, beautiful eyes, they were the colour of a rich berry, a beautiful purple, like a flower, soft and delicate. Yet the angel's stare could have ripped her in half by that alone.

Charlie stood there, not making a sound so the angel turned around. Bored with her it walked off through the corridor.

She needed to know who this was and why they looked like her mother.

..............................................................................................

"I still dunno what ya mean by 'she looked like my mother' toots, who are ya even talkin' about again?" Angel replied, pouring himself another drink as Charlie told the spider demon bout the meeting and her encounter with the angel.

"I'm telling you!! She looked just like my mom!" She said, waving a picture of her mother in front of Angel's face.

"Jeez, okay calm! I get it!" He slapped the picture away "Why are ya so bothered though?"

"I don't know. I just felt connected to her.. " she said, petting Keekee, who curled into her lap and purred at the affectionate touch.

"For all you know it might've not even been a girl, just let it go toots" he took a big swing of his drink before pouring another drink.

"I'm telling you I feel connected to them, I... I know they looked like my mother." She sighed.

Hopefully, she'd be able to go up to heaven soon, to win them over and to see that angel again.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire

@honey-valentin3 @type-ink

[anyataylorjoys]

Someone asked me how I created the fade transition in this gifset which I’ll try to explain in the most comprehensive way that I can. If you've never done something like this before, I suggest reading through the full tutorial before attempting it so you know what you'll need to plan for.

To follow, you should have:

basic knowledge of how to make gifs in photoshop

some familiarity with the concept of how keyframes work

patience

Difficulty level: Moderate/advanced

Prep + overview

First and foremost, make the two gifs you'll be using. Both will need to have about the same amount of frames.

For ref the gif in my example is 540x540.

I recommend around 60-70 frames max total for a big gif, which can be pushing it if both are in color, then I would aim for 50-60. My gif has a total of 74 frames which I finessed using lossy and this will be explained in Part 4.

⚠️ IMPORTANT: when overlaying two or more gifs and when using key frames, you MUST set your frame delay to 0.03 fps for each gif, which can be changed to 0.05 fps or anything else that you want after converting the combined canvas back into frames. But both gifs have to be set to 0.03 before you convert them to timeline to avoid duplicated frames that don't match up, resulting in an unpleasantly choppy finish.

Part 1: Getting Started

Drag one of your gifs onto the other so they're both on the same canvas.

The gif that your canvas is fading FROM (Gif 1) should be on top of the gif it is fading INTO (Gif 2).

And here's a visual of the order in which your layers should appear by the end of this tutorial, so you know what you're working toward achieving:

Part 2: Creating the grid

Go to: View > Guides > New guide layout

I chose 5 columns and 5 rows to get the result of 25 squares.

The more rows and columns you choose, the more work you'll have to do, and the faster your squares will have to fade out so keep that in mind. I wouldn't recommend any more than 25 squares for this type of transition.

To save time, duplicate the line you've created 3 more times, or as many times as needed (key shortcut: CMD +J) and move each one to align with the guides both horizontally and vertically. You won't need to recreate the lines on the edges of the canvas, only the ones that will show.

After you complete this step, you will no longer need the guides so you can go back in and clear them.

Follow the same duplicating process for the squares with the rectangle tool using the lines you've created.

Align the squares inside the grid lines. The squares should not overlap the lines but fit precisely inside them.

This might take a few tries for each because although to the eye, the squares look all exactly the same size, you'll notice that if you try to use the same duplicated square for every single one without alterations, many of them will be a few pixels off and you'll have to transform the paths to fit.

To do this go to edit > transform path and hold down the command key with the control key as you move one edge to fill the space.

Once you're done, put all the squares in their separate group, which needs to be sandwiched between Gif 1 and Gif 2.

Right click Gif 1 and choose "create clipping mask" from the drop down to mask it to the squares group. This step is super important.

After this point, I also took the opacity of the line groups down to about 40% so the lines wouldn't be so bold. Doing this revealed some squares that needed fixing so even if you aren't going dim the lines, I recommend clicking off the visibility of the lines for a moment to make sure everything is covered properly.

Part 3A: Prep For Key framing

I wanted my squares to fade out in a random-like fashion and if you want the same effect, you will have to decide which squares you want to fade out first, or reversely, which parts of Gif 2 you want to be revealed first.

In order to see what's going on underneath, I made Gif 1 invisible and turned down the opacity of the squares group.

If you want text underneath to be revealed when the squares fade away, I would add that now, and place the text group above Gif 2, but under the squares group.

Make a mental note that where your text is placed and the order in which it will be revealed is also something you will have to plan for.

With the move tool, click on the first square you want to fade out. Every time you click on a square, it will reveal itself in your layers.

I chose A3 to be the first square to fade and I'm gonna move this one to the very top of all the other square layers.

So if I click on D2 next, that layer would need to be moved under the A3 layer and so on. You'll go back and forth between doing this and adding key frames to each one. As you go along, it's crucial that you put them in order from top to bottom and highly suggested that you rename the layers (numerically for example) which will make it easier to see where you've left off as your dragging the layers into place.

Part 3B: Adding the Keyframes

This is where we enter the gates of hell things become tedious.

Open up the squares group in the timeline panel so you can see all the clips.

Here is my example of the general pattern that's followed and its corresponding layers of what you want to achieve when you're finished:

So let’s try it!

Expand the control time magnification all the way to the right so you can see every frame per second.

As shown in Part 3A, select your first chosen square.

Where you place the time-indicator on the panel will indicate the placement of the keyframe. Click on the clock next to opacity to place your first keyframe.

Move the time-indicator over 3 frames and place the next key frame.

Things to consider before moving forward:

Where you place your very first keyframe will be detrimental. If you're using a lot of squares like I did, you may have to start the transition sooner than preferred.

If you're doing 25 squares, the key frames will have to be more condensed which means more overlapping because more frames are required to finish the transition, verses if you're only using a 9-squared grid. See Part 4 for more detailed examples of this.

The opacity will remain at 100% for every initial key frame, and the second one will be at 0%.

Instead of creating two keyframes like this and changing the opacities for every single clip, you can copy the keyframes and paste them onto the other clips by click-dragging your mouse over both of them and they'll both turn yellow. Then right click one of the keyframes and hit copy.

Now drop down to your next clip, move your time-indicator if necessary to the spot where the first keyframe will start and click the clock to create one. Then right click it and hit "paste".

Tip: When you have both keyframes selected, you can also move them side to side by click-dragging one of them while both are highlighted.

Your full repetitive process in steps will go as follows:

click on square of choice on the canvas

drag that square layer to the top under the last renamed

in timeline panel: drop down to next clip, move time-indicator tick to your chosen spot for the next keyframe

create new keyframe

right click new keyframe & paste copied keyframes

repeat until you've done this with every square in the group

Now you can change the opacity of your squares layer group back to 100% and turn on the visibility of Gif 1. Then hit play to see the magic happen.

PART 4: Finished examples

Example 1

the transition starts too soon Cause: initial keyframe was placed at frame 0

the squares fade away too quickly Cause: overlapping keyframes, seen below. (this may be the ideal way to go with more squares, but for only 9, it's too fast)

Example 2

more frame time for first gif

transition wraps up at a good point Cause: in this instance, the first keyframe was placed 9 frames in, and the keyframes are not overlapping. The sequential pair starts where the last pair ended, creating a slower fade of each square.

Part 5: Final Tips and Saving

You can dl my save action here which will convert everything back into frames, change the frame rate to 0.05 and open the export window so you can see the size of the gif immediately.

If it's over 10gb, one way to finesse this is by use of lossy. By definition, lossy “compresses by removing background data” and therefore quality can be lost when pushed too far. But for most gifs, I have not noticed a deterioration in quality at all when saving with lossy until you start getting into 15-20 or higher, then it will start eating away at your gif so keep it minimal.

If you've done this and your gif is losing a noticeable amount of quality and you still haven’t gotten it below 10gb, you will have no choice but to start deleting frames.

When it comes to transitions like this one, sometimes you can't spare a single frame and if this is the case, you will have to return to the timeline state in your history and condense the key frames to fade out quicker so you can shorten the gif. You should always save a history point before converting so you have a bookmark to go back to in case this happens.

That's pretty much it, free to shoot me an ask on here or on @jugheadjones with any questions.

[boydepartment]

spoil it all- uni student! nishimura riki x uni student! reader

a/n: RHHHHHHHHRAHHHHHHHRAHHAHAHAHHA :3 trying new layout i am sorry if its a lil ugly

warnings- fluff! little angst…! inspired by frank sinatra’s something stupid!

wc- 500-800 words

MASTERLIST

I know I stand in line

Until you think you have the time…

you slipped on your shoes and made your way down the street, it was spring time and you had a small break off school. it was exciting and what was even more exciting was that your best friend here was FINALLY free the same time as you. riki was a hard worker and even being friends he put his work and studies first.

you had grown up a lot in the past couple years with riki, you accidentally met on coincidence and have been talking ever since. both being foreigners studying in a new country. you’d facetime, text, send eachother memes, almost inseparable. unless he had work or was practicing his dancing, or just didn’t have time due to his studies.

so when he called you telling you to come over and hang out with him, you practically rushed over. why wouldn’t you?

To spend an evening with me

And if we go some place to dance…

you both ended up dancing around his small apartment, obviously he was a little better than you, being a dance major and all…

neither of you minded though, he was your best friend and why would he care?

you only cared a little bit… a lot actually…

you always cared, you saw how much he worked on his studies and how much he puts into everything he does.

it was admirable. you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him.

I know that there's a chance

You won't be leaving with me

you both were laying on the carpet that was freshly vacuumed. the dancing had taken you out and you both were giggling and breathing heavily.

“i wanted to talk to you about something…” riki started and leaned on his side, you turned to him and wiped your forehead.

“what is it?” your heart was pounding. you didn’t know why. maybe it was a sliver of hope.

riki moved onto his stomach now and ran his heads through his hair, his makeshift bracelets jingling, “after university i think i want to go to a training program.”

you blinked as you looked at him, riki had been talking about becoming a professional dancer anywhere after college since you’ve met him.

you smiled at him, “where do you think you’ll go?”

riki looked at you and grinned, “i dunno, korea, new york… maybe back home in japan… i haven’t decided.” he rubbed his eyes and looked up, “maybe i’ll even go to california.”

“i believe in you.”

of course you did, and you’ll always support him. even after college, even after this period of time was over and you both will probably never talk again, after you don’t need eachother anymore, even after all of that. you’d always believe in him, your best friend.

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place

And have a drink or two

later on in the night you stood in his dim kitchen making tea. giggling as it was 2am and everything was just so funny. you felt like kids again at a sleepover.

“okay i swear i know how to make my moms tea.” riki said and spoke a lot by nodding his head and moving his hands.

you started to laugh silently, covering your face, “riki i don’t know if it’s supposed to look like that!”

he threw his head back and laughed, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie that matched yours.

you both got matching hoodies last semester because he got tired of having to shoo off locals who tried to talk to you. so he fixed the problem. that was the first time you realized you saw him more than a best friend.

you watched him rush over to the tea bags and threw them in the pot, one of the papers was still attached and it caught fire.

riki jumped back, “WHAT DO I DO?!”

you started laughing, falling to the floor, “it’ll- it should- it’ll burn out quickly just turn off- turn off the stove!”

immediately he listened and looked at you on the floor, a little longer than a friend would, a small smile on his face before he started laughing just as hard as you.

And then I go and spoil it all

after the tea fiasco you both laid down in his room. it was around 4 am and he had soft lights around his room. it was still dark but little nooks and crannies of his room were illuminated.

“do you remember when that girl in your class asked if you were single?” you asked while readjusting the blanket. you were both talking about stories throughout your time here at the university.

riki covered his eyes and chuckled slightly, “i froze up! and started speaking japanese- yes of course i remember!”

“you did the same thing to me when that guy came up to me!” you exclaimed and shoved his arm, he acted like he was hurt and pretended to cry. then he stopped and looked at you.

“that guy was ugly you could do so much better. of course i cursed him out in japanese.”

your jaw dropped and you started laughing, “RIKI STOP THATS MEAN!” you went to shove him again but he ended up grabbing a pillow and smacking you, lightly.

you both were giggling after the play fight and you were trying to brush hair out of face. he was above you still laughing and you could help but stare at him.

he was so pretty to you, obviously you always noticed this, you’ve dyed his hair multiple times, done his makeup for some university and community performances, you had every mole on his face memorized. the little details of your best friend were your favorite. and his personality was even more beautiful to you, you loved everything about him. his laugh, the way he words things, how he talks and laughs with his whole body, you were in love with him.

“what?!” riki asked, almost taunting in a way, still playing around.

By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

without even thinking you spoke, “i love you…”

“what?”

[mistydeyes]

fake hypochondriac

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hypochondria

hy·​po·​chon·​dria noun

excessive concern about one's health especially when accompanied by imagined physical ailments

summary: If an apple a day, keeps the doctor away then what keeps a pharmacist away? Whatever it is, Ghost wants to eradicate it. This man's small crush will send him to extremes. A sequel to "a panacea"

pairing: Ghost x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds, fluff, and flirting

a/n: by popular vote, ghost's sequel won! don't worry though, price's will be coming real soon ;)

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The unit had been a buzz about your work as a pharmacist officer. From clearing Gaz’s congestion to the ridiculous bandage you gave to Ghost, they simply would not stop talking about you. Soap even tried to convince the doctor that he needed to visit you for a malady of reasons but your colleagues were smarter than that. You had to give it to him, the fake food coloring blood applied to his stitches was a nice touch. It became a running joke in the medical wing. Some of your closest work friends even gushed about how the men would talk about you as if you had discovered the secrets to eternal life.

All joking aside, in all your years here, people had called you pet names and made small attempts at flirting but you always had your main goal on your mind: provide the best care so they can stop bothering me. However, one man caught your eye. No one would ever know that the masked man who wore a star bandaid was the one who stole your heart.

Of course, you’d never want anyone to have to constantly come visit you on the pretense of needing medication but you valued the time spent with him. Somehow he ended up needing every single vaccination. From pneumococcal to typhoid, you wondered if you should tell him that these were all voluntary.

Little did you know, he made every effort to miss the optional clinics and went straight to you upon his return. Your soft touch and even softer laugh were like music to his ears. He didn’t know how many people were graced by your presence like this but he tried to make himself the most memorable one.

His younger self would have laughed at his antics. His mother used to say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Even though you weren’t a doctor, he would cut down every apple tree and burn every pie if it meant seeing you daily.

One day, Soap gave him an idea. The team was ending another debriefing with Laswell and making conversation as they left the room. “I wish I could visit the lass but all she does is either give me my meds or gives her whatever you call recommendations” Soap groaned as he lugged the large number of building layouts and files in his arms.

“Pharmacological and non-pharm recommendations, Sergeant” Price corrected. “You better learn their terminology, they didn’t go to school and experience those muppets at the local chemist’s for nothing.”

That was it, Ghost would ask you for some silly non-pharm recommendation like Gaz had and keep coming up with new ailments to keep visiting you.

The plan was in place, following the lunch rush he walked to the medical wing and made his way to the pharmacy.

You stood in the back, answering yet another phone call from a doctor. “As I said before, you need to find out what their reaction is to penicillin and other beta-lactams. I don’t care if they say they have a true allergy, you know anaphylaxis is the only indicator. And no, I’m not ordering something off the formulary just because your patient says they were sneezing after a bout of amoxicillin. Just call me back after you spoke to them and if you really need it, then you know where to reach me.” With that, you slammed the phone down and let out a groan. You knew pharmacology was no doctor's favorite subject but this was antibiotics 101.

Your technician came around the corner, “Captain L/N, is everything alright?”

“You know we’ve been working together for what 2 years now? I’m just Y/N especially back here in this phone call hell.” you laughed as you sat down in your chair. “I’m alright, just another medic trying to get me to order something off the formulary for kicks”

“Well Y/N, there is someone here to see you. Just a soldier complaining of a sore throat. He says the doctors won’t prescribe anything because they haven’t observed anything wrong.” Your tech responded before disappearing amongst the shelves to fill some incoming scripts.

You made your way to the front where you were surprised to see Lt. Riley wearing a face mask (although still with the ghost print). Even though he had been coming for months now, live vaccines had to be spaced out by 28 days, you had not seen his face fully. His eyes were trained down and you noted his surprisingly light eyelashes. He still had the ever-present eye black and you wondered how he kept his lashes so pristine. If it was a mascara or a brand of makeup remover you needed to know!

“Simon,” you spoke in a cheerful voice. By now, you were on a first-name basis. It only took one tuberculosis skin test for him to encourage you to call him by his name. To be fair, when you held his arm gently to measure the area he would’ve told you anything.

“You aren’t due for any vaccinations you know. You’ve cleared me out! I’m sure the doctors would think I’m sticking you for my pleasure and your pain.” you joked. You were teasing but you knew there was no way he was here for yet another immunization.

“Not this time, love. I’ve got this tickle in my throat. It hurts when I swallow and I swear Soap saw my tonsils angry and inflamed,” he replied.

“And the doctor didn’t diagnose you with bronchitis or call for your tonsils to be removed?” you questioned. It wasn’t unusual for them to miss anything but you were realistically unable to prescribe anything to him.

“Well let me take a look. If you want to head over to the vaccination area then you can take your mask off. I’m sure you are familiar with where it is.” With that, he nodded and walked toward the designated area. He appreciated your kindness and that you valued his privacy.

You let your technician know where you’d be and they waved you off saying they could handle the onslaught of soldiers if it came to it.

As you entered the corned-off area, you saw Simon there, fiddling with his mask. You didn’t understand why he was so nervous, how could someone so well acquainted with violence be nervous of a flashlight and quick examination?

“Don’t worry, I’ll sure to be quick. I just need you to remove your mask and open up wide,” you explained and fished in your pocket for your pen light. To any recruit, they would’ve made a cheeky comment to your command but Simon obliged to your ask.

As he lowered your mask, you couldn’t help but admire the man in front of you. He was gorgeous. He looked like he was carved from a model like some Greek deity. His face was adorned by various silvery scars that looked painted on a portrait with metallic paint. His jawline was sharp and his lips were blush pink with an even sharper cupid’s bow. You made sure not to ogle for too long and began your assessment.

As you pointed your flashlight, you examined his throat and tonsils, trying to find if the doctor had missed anything. But when you saw no redness and his lymph nodes weren’t swollen, you didn’t know what to say.

“Hm, well good news and I guess bad news but I’m not seeing anything here. I’m not sure what to tell you but I wish I could help” you said in a defeated tone. You looked saddened by your lack of discovery and this made Simon want to scratch his whole plan.

“But,” you began, as he put on his mask, “my grandparents would always say ‘Y/N, all you need is to get some good rest and have a cup of tea with lemon’” you explained, trying your best to impersonate your best old person voice. Simon chuckled at your attempt. God, you really knew how to brighten someone’s day, and who could not love your sweet, grave voice?

“Sorry to take your time, love, but I’ll be sure to let you know,” he said and stood up before giving you a thankful look.

“The pleasure is all mine, Simon. I try to do what I can for one of my favorite patients,” you replied. You were laying on the flirting hard, something you would lie in bed cringing about later.

With that, he walked out of your little bubble and went about his day. You watched his muscular ass figure exit as you too returned to your day.

Although you thought you had cured him with some good advice, you were visited every other day for the next few weeks as he still had the same complaint. You had recommended everything following each checkup. From spoonfuls of honey and thyme lollies to encouraging hot showers and steam therapy, you were out of options. By what seemed like his 10th visit, you were prepared to march him down to radiology and make sure that this wasn’t some terrible looming illness.

“Still having that sore throat, huh?” you questioned as he walked through your doorway. He nodded in agreement and you picked up the landline. “I’m making a quick call, we’ll get this sorted out.”

“Hi, this is Captain. L/N. I have Lt. Riley here and he has been complaining of a sore throat for weeks. Is there any way the lab could run a throat culture as well as some blood work for me?”

And that’s how Simon ended up in the doctor’s office with a cotton swab down his throat and multiple needle pricks to his veins. He should’ve picked something more benign like reoccurring IBS but then again he might have ended up with a finger up his ass instead of the swab.

Two days later, you received a notification that the results were in. To your dismay, the results showed nothing. The swab was negative for every infection and his blood cell counts were all within normal range.

Frustrated, you told your tech you’d be back and walked your way to Cpt. Price’s office.

You knocked on the closed door hoping not to disturb the man. His baritone voice echoed into the hallway as he told you to enter.

“Hi Captain, sorry to bother you,” you said noting the mountain of paperwork on his desk as well as his extinguished pile of cigars. “But I was wondering if you had noticed anyone else in your unit with a sore throat. Lt. Riley has been coming to the pharmacy for a few weeks now and no one can figure it out.”

“Not that I know of. We haven’t run drills either so I know our quiet Ghost isn’t necessarily screaming at the recruits. He hasn’t come to me either with any complaints,” he explained and leaned back in his chair. He knew that Ghost was wasting your resources so he decided to let you in on a secret.

“As their commanding officer, you know I highly value the word of my men. But I do remember during my school days, that boys would tend to lie about an illness just to get sent to the infirmary and eventually home,” he explained. “It’s no secret that some soldiers, even Ghost, show a fondness for you.”

You blushed at his response, you couldn’t imagine that of all people, the stoic Ghost had a schoolboy crush on you. Hell, you hated your school nurse and always dreaded going to the doctor. You went days before telling your mom that you might have broken your finger during recess (you can still remember her rushing to the emergency room the minute she saw your bruised and puffy finger).

“I’ll talk to him the next time he comes in, which I hope he doesn’t,” you said, “thanks for the advice. And don’t forget, I always have a pack of nicotine gum for you if you ever decide to quit.” He chuckled and politely shooed you away. As you shut the door, you shook your head as you heard a lighter flick and smelled the familiar scent of a cigar.

Right on schedule, Simon came strolling into the pharmacy. You had just finished chatting with Soap and chastised him for yet another antibiotic prescription. This time it was for an infected foot wound after forgetting to change his socks and wading in still, grimy water during a mission.

As Soap gave you a cheeky smile saying he’d be back, Ghost tried to suppress his jealousy. Why did Soap have to be blessed with a purulent foot wound instead of him? Maybe he’ll try that one next.

“Ah Simon, I’m heading out to lunch if you’d like to join. I’m presuming it’s still the throat issue so I can check it out after.” You said and reached into the fridge under the counter to grab your food.

You made sure to lock up the pharmacy and lower the protective barriers, you couldn’t let anyone access the “good stuff.” Your tech said their goodbyes as they went to the mess hall for some warm food.

It was the dead of summer but today was surprisingly balmy. You knew there were some tables outside so you pushed the exit door and sat down on one side. He sat opposite you as you opened up your salad and half sandwich.

“So, can I tell your story?” you said before taking a bite. He nodded watching you intently.

“There was a time I broke my finger during recess and didn’t tell my mom for the next 3 days. You should’ve seen her face when I revealed my oozing, bruised ring finger. The thought of missing school and recess was devastating so I hid it like a child.” you explained and held up your left hand showing how your ring finger was slightly askew compared to the others. He laughed heartily, which made you also laugh in return.

After wiping some tears from your eyes you went on, “And that’s why my mom was so shocked when I got my MPharm. She always tells my dad that she doesn’t understand how someone so adverse to doctors went into healthcare.”

“We all have our weird obsessions, plus you are a natural,” he said and was almost at a loss for words as you smiled back at him, the sun hitting perfectly on your face and dancing in your hair.

“Anyways, I told Captain Price that story and he had such a different experience. He said that as a young lad, he and his mates would do anything it would take to get into the infirmary and home. I couldn't believe kids were so smart and had the forethought to plan something like that!”

Ghost knew where this was going. He also received notification that the tests came back clear of any illness. He knew the jig was up but couldn’t run away from the confrontation.

“Now, I’m not debunking your mystery illness, Simon. But I just wanted to talk to you privately and ask if there was anything else that you haven’t told me?” You asked and knew you had got him hook, line, and sinker. His eyes glancing around and his sweaty palms were confirmation of your theory.

He took a few moments to answer and you both sat in silence. You finished the remainder of your food and wiped your hands neatly as he stroke the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I guess I was just finding an excuse to talk to you,” he began to explain and you could see his extremities begin to grow flush. “I, uh, didn’t know how to so once I ran out of excuses with the shots, I decided to fake a sore throat,” he sheepishly replied.

With his confession, you couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh you did. Hard. It took you a minute before returning your composure.

“You know that the other soldiers can just have a regular conversation with me. I don’t bite and I swear I’ve talked Gaz’s ears off about pollen and flowers. I just feel bad now for making you undergo all those tests,” you said gently placing your hand on top of his.

“I do see what you mean though. If I had a doctor as handsome as you, I would have every illness, injury, and question under the sun.” You couldn’t leave him thinking you didn’t reciprocate your feelings. With that, it was your turn to blush.

“It’s rather childish isn’t it?” He said as he gently caressed your other free hand. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“How about you make it up to me with dinner? I can show you that there’s more than just textbook knowledge to me” you offered, “I know a surprising amount about languages, I can flirt with you in 10 different ones.”

“It’s a date, gorgeous. I’m all ears for anything you have to say,” he said and you both looked like lovesick teens, “As long as you keep this a secret. You know the doctors would never believe me if I actually got sick.”

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

After months of dating, you revealed a secret. “After I spoke to Price, I had a suspicion to check your medical record. You know I could see you never went to the doctor right? You never logged any visits for your alleged sore throat.” You said jokingly and lightly punched his shoulder. “I just can’t believe you roped everyone into it. I can have a normal conversation, babe.”

He laughed at your reveal and kissed the top of your forehead. “I just wanted to make sure your university course load prepared you for anything.”

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

My Girl {Dabi} (pt 2)

A/n: I wasn't originally planning on writing a part 2 on this one but the comments and the reblogs were asking for a part 2 so here it is. Hopefully those of you who asked it, will actually like it. For those of you who haven't read it, here is Part 1 and Part 3

Pairing: Dabi/ Toua Todoroki x fem!civilian!reader

Trigger warning: mentions of death, fire, slightly suggested, mentions of a creepy looking dude but nothing further than that, mentions of scars

From that day on a few things changed. Dabi was sleeping in his apartment more often. He hadn't mentioned you touching yourself to the thought of him again, not that you had actually talked to him again after that day.

"Doll..." You heard his voice through the paper thin walls of your bedroom. You had been laying on your bed, one week after your unexpected yet fateful meeting with him, getting ready to fall asleep.

"What?" You turned your head to the side, pressing your cheek against the wall so he could actually hear you. If the layout of his apartment was the same as yours then his bedroom was where he was at the moment.

"Moan for me, come on."

Oh you were so lucky that he couldn't see the blush on your face and the way your eyes widened immediately upon hearing his suggestive words. If your ears weren't deceiving you then he was most probably chuckling, thriving from teasing you.

"Shut it." You weren't sure what had given you the confidence to talk to one of the most dangerous villains like that but then again, he was pushing your limits with this. If you had known that the walls were so thin or that you were a little too loud then you would have never indulged in your desires.

But what was done, was done. You couldn't do anything to take it back.

"Oh I have become quite the greedy bastard, doll."

"You act like a starved man."

"How can I not?" He let out a breathy chuckle. Really how thin were those shitty walls? "It's not often a girl treats me like a human being."

There was something in his words. Not sarcasm, not honesty. You couldn't quite pinpoint it but the way he said 'human being' was a little... off. As if he didn't believe it.

Nevertheless, you didn't respond, slowly getting out of your comfortable and warm bed to start getting dressed. It was past midnight and even though you had tried to ignore the growling sounds of your stomach, too tired and bored to cook, you couldn't take it anymore.

The pace with which you brushed your teeth and wore new clothes was a fast one. It was extremely cold and the air condition in your apartment was broken to the point where it only produced cold air.

In a matter of five minutes, you were walking towards the nearest convinience store, a small -almost tiny- building. You rarely went there, unless you actually couldn't avoid it. Located at the end of the narrow alley, a straight line from where your apartment building was, was the tiny and creepy looking convinience store. The only source of light was the cold tone faint lamp inside the store -practically a horror movie setting.

The old man working there was almost half asleep, not even paying attention to the costumers walking in or if they were paying for what they were buying or straight up stealing. You couldn't help but feel bad for him, feeling sorry that he didn't have a second employee to work the night shifts and that his store was so scary looking that almost no one walked in.

Not wanting to distrub his sleep, you walked straight towards the aisle with the instant noodles hoping to find something that could ease your hunger.

Normally you wouldn't have to browse so much because the store you usually went to had way more options which included your favourite but here the options were quite limited.

That was when you felt someone staring at you. At first you thought it was Dabi -with how deeply the old man at the counter was sleeping he could have easily walked in unnoticed. You were going to ignore it. Not wanting your encounters with him to become more awkward than they already were.

And so you did. But the feeling that someone was straight up stalking you continued and something in you screamed that if it was Dabi then he would have said something already. Yet... how well did you actually know that man? Apart from the information provided by the news and the internet, you knew nothing. Well he loved cats but that was it. Would he really speak to you or would he just wait until you were scared shitless and then tease you endlessly? You didn't know.

Dabi was a villain after all. Villains lie.

"I would never hurt you my ass." You mumbled under your breath and grabbed the first pack of noodles, ready to leave when you noticed that the old man was not in he counter anymore. That was when it settled in, that feeling that you were being watched.

There was a new man on the counter, whatever his quirk was his face resembled the face of a bird and it was so unsettling. From the way this man's eyes were placed basically at the sides of his face to the way his nose was huge. Everything made you scared.

Placing the exact amount of money the noodles cost on the counter, you managed to pull your shit together and actually walk out of the store. You had seen that man before. His face was on wanted posters across your neighbour and even though you hadn't stop to check his crimes, you could tell that he was dangerous.

Where had that old man gone?

You ran back to your apartment, quickly locking the door behind you and setting the noodles on the kitchen table before heading to the bedroom to change back in your pyjamas.

Just when silence had fallen upon the apartment, the only sound being the water being boiled for the noodles, you heard a knock on your door. Standing frozen above the boiling water, you prayed that whoever was outside would leave.

"Doll it's me. Open up before the police finds me because I did a very bad thing."

Dabi's voice was the last thing you had expected to hear... theoretically because in practice... you didn't talk to anyone else in the building.

The smell of smoke and ash filled the living room when Dabi walked in. "There you are, why don't you help with my stapples hm?"

"I thought you were next door." You asked confused, trying to make sense of why he was in your apartment and why his skin was falling off at some places.

"I was." He looked back at you, clearly amused by how confused you were. A small smirk found its place on his face and removed his boots before laying down on the couch. "But then you stopped responding, I heard the door open and I thought I should follow you. And you will be surprised now, doll, there was a creepy guy following you as well."

"That I know." You mumbled removing the pot from the stove and pouring the hot water in the cup of noodles. "He is at the convinience store."

"Was." A small pause followed with you looking at the noodles with wide eyes. "He was at the store. He is not anymore." There was this eerly nonchalant tone in his voice.

"What do you mean... was?" You slowly turned around to face him, almost offended at how he was laying on your couch with his arms behind his head.

"There is no convenience store there anymore. And thus there is no creepy looking guy ogling at my girl on this planet, anymore."

Needless to say that you were dumbfounded. You couldn't even find the words or figure out if you should feel scared or honoured that someone did this for you.

"You burnt the guy-"

"The convenience store." He quickly corrected you.

"What about the old guy?"

"That creepy looking dude um..." He didn't have to say more. You were a little shocked.

"Why?"

"You took care of my scars..." He said, his deep voice barely above a whisper. "And that dude deserved it okay? He had been mocking the League for quite some time now. And if I hadn't burnt him, Shigaraki would have turned him into ash." He paused again. "That's not the point though. No one bothers my girl, that's all."

A/n: DABI DARK ROMANCE LET'S GO

[mysteria157]

Chapter 11

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~16k

CW: just…straight smut, profanity

Summary: Nanami gifts you with something that sets a new course in your life. When confessions are finally laid on the table, you both give in.

Notes: Hi! This is a long one so buckle in. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

You watched Rory move another porcelain pillar across his studio to join the others of various height and size. An art exhibit was to be hosted at his studio and he had waited until the last minute to prepare.

“That looks good there. I don’t think we should change anything else.”

You watched him dust off his jeans, brown hands swiping the particles off the denim before he smiled up at you. His two strand twists were pulled up into a top bun, brown eyes filled with joy as he looked around at his finished work. The exhibit was to be held in only two days and he still needed to confirm catering, music, and decorations he had ordered weeks ago.

“Who asked you for an exhibit anyway? This has never happened to you.”

Rory pursed his lips, clasping his hands behind his back before he rocked playfully on his heels before throwing a wide grin in your direction.

“Me. I’ve finally pulled enough sponsors and followers to have something small.”

“Congratulations!”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace as he chuckled into your hair and rubbed your back.

“I’ll be there, I promise. Do you need a guide? Can I help come up with price points? Or I can get out some last minute marketing for you—”

“Honey.”

He smiled down at you and patted the side of your cheek, a familiar gesture of affection he had always cast your way growing up.

“The only thing I want is for you to wear a nice comfortable dress, support me when you can, and look beautiful like you always do.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from his laughing form at your annoyance before you folded your arms over your chest.

“It would be a perfect opportunity to really showcase some of your work.”

The sound of that made your throat clench, lips pursing as you tried to push away the nerves in your belly. As if anyone would like your amateur work. Rory had been crafting ceramics for years, and before you were even born.

“I can set up a shelf if you want. Somewhere where not too many will pry—”

“Uncle Rory. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not ready yet. I still have so much to work on.”

He scoffed in response, waving a hand at you in dismissal before flitting his gaze to the layout of pillars.

“Your mother is something else.”

He had muttered it under his breath, but you still caught it, choosing not to respond.

In truth, you had only just recently begun to regain your confidence and footing with ceramics again. The nagging words of your mother had echoed less and less every time you sat at a throwing wheel. But with a growing baby and a new house, you hadn’t really touched anything in the past week.

“Fine, fine. I won’t bring it up anymore. But I still want you there. Wear something nice…bring Nanami too. I know you had your little date yesterday because you look…very relaxed.”

You scoffed, choking on a laugh and blushing fiercely as you smacked your uncle on the arm.

“Nothing happened!”

You watched his shoulders shake in glee as he looked down at you, the teasing glint in his eyes so reminiscent of almost every time he looked at you. Growing up and spending your summers with him, having a place to run to when your mother frustrated you, you had only ever seen him happy or laughing. It was rare to see him annoyed or pensive or even angry; the only times those emotions had ever graced his features was when your mother was either in the room or the subject of conversation.

“All alone with a looker like that?”

He whistled, the noise bouncing off the walls of his empty studio as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Make it make sense. I’m straight as an arrow but…20 dollars is 20 dollars.”

“Stop!” you squealed, face red and throat ripping with giggles as you smacked his arm again. He guffawed, his boisterous laugh practically shaking the walls as he watched you flail about in embarrassment.

You were right though, nothing had happened. At least not really. You had toed that line last night gracefully, letting him ravage you to the point of delusion. Had it not been for your traitorous stomach, you probably would have woken up this morning in his sheets demanding breakfast and tea. He had morphed back into the perfect gentleman you were used to, content to blurt out annoyed comments at the television, fingers still pressing into the sore muscles of your back, peppering your neck with a kiss or two when the thought crossed his mind. Kento was able to put your discomfort on the top of his priority list, his lust tampered and tucked away for another time when it was more appropriate.

After all three episodes of the Kardashians had played and the heaviness of sleep began to settle into your bones, he walked you out to your car so you could go home before your eyes began to droop.

That was all. Nothing too crazy even though you wanted it to be.

But soon. You had promised it to yourself when you brushed your teeth last night and got ready for bed. Soon you would take charge and show him just how insatiable you could be.

“See, you over here thinking about it right now. A shame.”

Rory’s teasing slid through your ears, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into your overheated and embarrassed body. You narrowed your eyes at him, sticking your tongue out before whirling around to walk out of the studio.

“It’s in two days! Seven pm, don’t be late!”

****

“So, I haven’t heard from you all day. How long until you tell me how your date went?”

By the time you made it to your house from Rory’s studio, you only had minutes to spare before Ome was making her presence known. You had invited many of your friends over to finally get your house in order.

Originally it wasn’t your plan, but when Gojo heard Nanami and Haibara would be over to finally lay concrete in your studio, he immediately inserted himself. He wanted to ‘use his superior height to hang up pictures and shelves’.

His words not yours. Because he knew wherever you were, Ome would be as well.

Yuji, using any opportunity to spend time with you, insisted on coming over to move the rest of your furniture around.

Ome? Ome just wanted to be around to snoop about your date.

“Stop ignoring me. I’ll keep pestering until you give in.”

You offered her no response, flickering your gaze down to the layout of instructions for the rocking chair that had finally come in the mail. Ome had tried to reach for the box for the baby’s crib, but you had adamantly refused to open it. Based on Kento’s random bouts of slightly less stoic sentiment when he talked about putting together the crib, you gathered he wanted nothing more than to do it himself.

“How big is his dick?”

You rolled your eyes, your gaze still looking down at the instructions.

“Why are you talking like we haven’t had sex before?”

You gestured down to your belly, keeping your eyes on your work as you fastened a wooden leg into a rocker, the dark wood sliding beneath your fingertips.

“You had sex with Nanami when you were both drunk as fuck. Last night was the first time you two fucked free of inhibition. Your hormones are out of control, high libido, everything is sensitive, it’s the perfect opportunity to ride him into submission.”

You sighed slowly, your patience quickly evaporating as she continued to ramble. It was impossible to ignore Ome when she was determined to pry something out of you. It made no sense to withhold anything from her when she could read you like a book upside down, inside out, wet and dirty even on your worst day.

“We didn’t have sex, Ome.”

She scoffed in annoyance, bright silver eyes filling with growing curiosity as she helped you fasten the other side of the rocker. Her kinky locs were pulled away from her chocolate face and into a low bun. She had hidden away her curves in jogging pants and a hoodie, but you were sure the minute Gojo laid his eyes on her, he would make his intentions known until she smacked him across the face.

“You looked hot. Nanami naturally looks like a model so I know he was hot. It was fate. You’ve been trying to climb that quarter of a Danish man for months—”

“He made me a wonderful meal and we made out on his couch and watched the Kardashians. That’s all. I don’t even—we haven’t even talked about what we are.”

She sighed, the peppermint of her gum drifting over to your face and sending small shocks down your spine.

“You two are having a baby together, the correct way to go about a relationship passed a few months ago. You like him, he for damn sure likes you. Be the powerhouse that I know you are and state your intentions. Tell him you want him, drop to your knees and give him that sloppy toppy that will keep him at your side forever.”

You giggled softly, fastening another log in place, your mind running wild with imagination from her words. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to greet him and Haibara at the door, pull Kento by the shirt into your room and throw him on your bed before you fell to your knees and wrapped his cock in your mouth. You didn’t get the chance to that night five months ago, he had knocked away all attempts of you trying to grab at him, redirecting your hands into the sheets to grab and pull as he fucked you with an intensity and sensuality that had you on the verge of tears.

Ome was right though, as much as you wanted to have sex with him, you knew your subconscious would never be comfortable until you at least talked about the state of your relationship. You had both gone from enemies to being bound together by the baby inside of you, to friends who clearly had intense feelings for one another. Everything had moved so fast and out of order.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts, your eyes blinking back into focus at the mahogany rocking chair leg in your hands. Ome bounded up from the floor and out of the room, leaving you in silence as you fastened the last piece of the chair. You smoothed your hands along the seat, the shiny dark wood reflecting the orb of the light on the ceiling as you pressed against the arm, watching the chair rock back and then towards you again.

Would Kento want something more with you?

You could never ask Ome the question. You could but you would never live down her anger at your stupidity.

Kento had seen almost every rough edge from you. While he didn’t have the opportunity to see you gross from sleep, hot morning breath and snoring, he had been given a front row seat to your fears and vulnerabilities. He had watched you break down and confess why you demanded so much of yourself. He had seen firsthand the effects of your own mother throwing scathing words in your direction and just how deep the trauma in your soul lay hidden.

You couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. You couldn’t want him physically and emotionally but cast him away when things got tough. Not with a baby on the way. You wouldn’t put your daughter through that. You wouldn’t subject her to awkward birthday parties where mommy and daddy were on opposite sides of the backyard glaring at each other.

But you couldn’t stand the thought of choosing to co-parent and watch Kento meet another woman. You couldn’t stomach the idea of having to explain to your daughter that the curvy blonde woman wrapped around her father would potentially be a stepmother.

“Nanami and Haibara are here!”

Ome’s voice rang in your ears, shaking your shoulders back into the present once again in such a small span of minutes. You looked up at the door of the nursery, watching Haibara and Kento come into view as Ome slid past them and began to collect the trash from the floor.

“Thank you for letting me help, y/n!”

Yu, cheerful as always smiled down at you, his almost comically large brown eyes shining down at you before looking around the nursery.

“I’m happy you could come.”

Ome inserted herself before Yu could speak again, holding the trash in her arms as she offered to show him the room that would make up your studio. They both disappeared from the room, their voices slowly decreasing in volume as they walked down the hall and out of earshot.

Kento in his dark jeans and simple white shirt, walked into the nursery, his intense brown eyes analyzing every inch of your work.

“What do you think?”

You let the simple question hang in the room, drifting in the air and through his ears as he admired your partially complete stencil on the wall.

“I think it’s going to look amazing. You already know how I feel about your work.”

You didn’t offer him a response as you watched his form walk slowly around the room, his blond hair was free of product and left to fall free. You had decided weeks ago that you loved it that way. It showed a side of him that you never imagined. Even with his stoic and serious demeanor, the carefree way he let his hair fall around his face made him less intimidating and more vulnerable.

He pulled his gaze away from your work on the wall, turning around to face your form perched on the floor before his eyes landed on the completed rocking chair in front of you. You ran your hands along one of the arms, smiling playfully up at him.

“Not bad huh?”

He hummed in response, the deep sound wafting down to land on your skin.

“How about you model the product for me?”

A large pale hand reached down for you, long fingers flickering back toward himself in a come hither motion and beckoning for you. You took his hand not a second later, letting the warmth bleed into your palm and begin to make its way up your arm as he pulled you to your feet.

You would need a pillow for your back, but the chair was structurally perfect. Large enough to not have your feet drag on the floor when you rocked back and forth, but not too small to squeeze your thighs on the sides.

Kento looked down at you, watching you sway back and forth in the large mahogany chair and basking in the warmth that began to boil in his stomach. You smiled up at him, your gaze free of frustration and worry, a mixture of happiness and mirth filling its place. Your curls were piled messily atop your head, a few tendrils falling to frame your face. Even in your maternity leggings and long blue shirt, he could see the swell of your stomach beneath the fabric, prominent and growing to accommodate the life inside.

It filled him with a sense of emotion he wasn’t expecting. He had long ago accepted the primal feeling of being the cause of another life forming. But he had yet to grasp the random bursts of unbridled happiness when his eyes would land on you when you both were together. He marveled at the way his chest tightened when he found you idly rubbing your belly when you talked. He loved the subtle changes in your form; the roundness of your cheeks and the way you would have to slide your shirt down when it rode too high and exposed the skin of your stomach. Even now as he looked down at you, the sight of a mother rocking in a chair and cradling her stomach, he couldn’t help the picture of their daughter in your arms sleeping on your chest as you rocked her to sleep.

To see you change so much for something else was a beautiful thing. Kento for all of his wit and strength and accomplishments would never know the feel of being so close to a life he had created as it grew.

“I’m going to guess by how much you’re staring that you like what you see?”

Kento chuckled softly, lips curling into a small smile as he chose to gaze at you further instead of offering a response. You bit the inside of your cheek, willing away the blush trying to make its way on your face as you stopped rocking and pulled yourself out of the chair.

“Rory has an exhibit in a few days at the studio. All of his work over the years and he’s pretty excited about it.”

“That is quite an accomplishment. I’ll offer my congratulations when I see him again.”

You opened your mouth, faltering for only a second before you squared your shoulders and harnessed that small reserve of confidence you kept in handy when it came to him.

“I’ll be going, you should come too.”

You fucking idiot.

Analyzing eyes roved over your form, sliding over your skin with an intensity that always made your stomach melt with heat. He closed the gap between you both, crossing the last shred of a boundary you had erected as his chest brushed against yours.

“So, you’re saying we should arrive separately? That’s very counterproductive and not like you at all.”

A pale hand slid around your waist, the familiar warmth of his skin blazing through your shirt and licking up your torso as he immediately pulled you closer to him.

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

His voice was so low, the deep timbre vibrating against you as his tea scented breath washed over your face. You couldn’t smell the familiar cologne on his body even at your close proximity, but you could faintly get a whiff of lavender fabric softener radiating from his white shirt. The feel of the nursery walls against your back shocked you instantly, pushing a shaky breath from your lungs, your blood boiling in your toes and slowly inching its way up your legs.  

“You’d have me dress up nice, gel and part my hair, wear those glasses you like so much…but I have to come alone? That’s not very fair.”

“I…I suppose you can come with me then. A date.”

He hummed in agreement before leaning down towards you.

The feel of his lips molding against yours wasn’t new, but it always felt that way. Hot and a little wet but so slow and sensual to the point you felt your heart begin to lurch up into your throat. Even with your limited experience with each other, finding a rhythm was easy because in a matter of seconds, the hand not on your waist had slid up to the side of your neck, titling your head back and allowing him better access. The feel of his tongue sliding against your bottom lip made you gasp, stomach fluttering in anticipation as you opened up more for him and let his tongue slide against yours.

All too soon his lips pulled away from yours, choosing instead to kiss the side of your mouth, the corner of your jaw, the thin skin of your neck before he latched on and began to suck the skin between his mouth, popping the blood vessels to give way to a mark that would surely take days to fade.

You blinked away the thick haze in your head, your vision slowly coming into focus as you looked up in a trance at the ceiling.

“Th-the door is open, Kento. Have some restraint.”

He hummed against your neck, disapproval leeching from his wet mouth and onto your skin. With great strength, he pulled away from your neck and looked down at you instead. His full lips were swollen and slightly red, cheeks holding a hint of ruddiness in color as he breathed heavily against you.

“Then we can go to your room.”

You swallowed down the whine that pressed against the back of your throat and threatened to be let free. His tone was serious and without a hint of teasing, eyes severe but liquid and flowing with heat. You opened your mouth to fight back, eyes blinking rapidly through the increasingly rising lust in your chest.

“Gojo and Yuji will be here soon.”

Kento simply shrugged, radiating indifference as one of his hands stroked your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt up to let his fingers graze against your skin. You found yourself arching your back fractionally, angling your hips just a little closer to him.

“Gojo will be distracted with Omelia and Yuji will be too engrossed on how cement works to care about anything else.”

Another kiss to your lips, quick and wet before the hand on your skin moved further up your back, the miniscule touch arching you a little more into him.

He sighed dramatically, hot breath amplifying the electric currents still zipping through your body.

“Perhaps you’re right. We would be pressed for time.”

Both of his hands cradled your face, tilting your head back again to look up at him before he slotted his lips against yours, kissing you with an intensity that had you struggling to breathe against him. You buried your hands into his chest, fingers curling the soft fabric tightly, wanting him closer but also knowing you wouldn’t have the privacy today that you both craved.

He pulled away with a soft breath before pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Besides, the things I would like to do…I’m sure our friends would be a little mortified if they heard you.”

The whine that had remained huddled in the back of your throat finally sprung free, your face coloring hard as you smacked his muscular chest and glared up at him. He smiled down at you, a gentle curve of his lips and a small puff of air leaving his nose as he laughed gently, chest rubbing up against your belly.

The ring of the doorbell and Ome’s yell that should would answer, made you both unfortunately aware of what would be happening today; getting your house in order. Not tangled in the sheets for hours on end.

But soon.

“Go help Haibara with the studio.” You reached up to stroke loose blond locks from his forehead, admiring as they flopped back into place. “The gallery is in two days. Look nice but not too fancy and wear that cologne I can always smell on you.”

You watched with silent satisfaction as his eyes flooded with arousal and pride, offering yourself to him one last time as he kissed your lips quickly and pulled away from your frame, allowing the cold air of your nursery to waft between your bodies and dissipate the heat.

“Yes ma’am.”

You ignored the licks of heat in your belly at the words, pushing away the fantasies as he placed a quick kiss to your cheek and walked from the room.

You weren’t paying attention to the growing chatter in the hallways, your eyes unfocused and teeth digging into your bottom lip as Ome and Gojo walked into the nursery.

“Why can’t I compliment you?”

Gojo’s voice was filled with confusion and a small hint of disappointment as he stopped in the doorway. Ome sat in your rocking chair, looking up at Gojo’s confused form.

“You only compliment me because you want me to get in bed with you. You’re too tall and annoying for me to spare the five minutes for you to get off.”

You relaxed your posture, molding more into the wall as you watched them both interact.

“No, I’m complimenting you because I mean it.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest. You could see the need to fight him in her eyes, the innate desire to turn away any man who made themselves known to her. But you could also detect a hint of interest, so very small but only you could see it.

“Gojo, you’re—”

“Just one date.”

The admission wasn’t a surprise to neither you nor Ome. But the serious look on Gojo’s face, bright blue eyes looking down at Ome in a fierce sort of loyalty you had never seen before, made you both pause.

“Just one. Give me one chance to prove to you that I’m worth more than insults. If you don’t like me after all of that, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She didn’t speak for a few seconds too long, silver expressive eyes looking up at Gojo’s equally alien ones before she pursed her lips in resignation.

“Y/n’s uncle is showing his work at his studio in a few days. Take me. No tricks, no stupid remarks, no nasty innuendos. If you fuck this up, I’ll choke you.”

He wiggled his shoulders playfully, smiling down at her.

“So, a win-win for me then?”

You couldn’t help the snort that shot from your mouth, eyeing Ome as she rolled her eyes and tried to contain the twitching of her lips.

Gojo turned his form over to you, flashing pearly whites in your direction before he invaded your space with his grotesquely tall form and pulled you into a gentle hug.

“So still no dick yet?”

For as much as Ome complained about Gojo, they truly had a lot in common. Two sides of the same coin who said what was on their mind without a care for how it came out of their mouths. Gojo took in your annoyed expression for only a second before rolling his eyes.

“I told you, my eyes see everything. I can tell that you had a good date last night, but you don’t have that glow most women do when they’ve had good pipe.”

There was no point in admonishing him. Once he got started, it was almost impossible for him to stop until it suited him.

“In college, I accidentally heard Nanamin giving it to one of his girlfriends at the time. Even I wanted to take notes from him. She walked out of his room like a newborn deer."

Gojo sighed as he recounted the events, almost wistful.

"Luckily Haibara walked in the house when Nanamin saw me or he probably would have beat the shit out of me. Wear something nice and he will be on you like a rabid dog.”

Ome barked at him to get out, rushing after his laughing form as he ran from the room, leaving you a blushing mess.

***

You were sure of yourself as you looked in the large mirror of your bathroom. You had spent hours putting yourself together, picking out every accessory and coming up with the perfect style until you had given up entirely and decided to just…go with your gut. And that simple action boosted your confidence to a degree that even you were blushing as you looked in the mirror.

A mauve long dress with skinny straps hugged your body. Not too tight, but form-fitting enough to show off the curves of your growing form and your belly. The long-sleeved mauve duster made you feel a little more secure as it flowed down your body and stopped at the same length of your dress. Your clear chunky heels were only about three inches tall; a perfect height for you to walk around in all night without getting too uncomfortable. Your curls hung over your shoulders and down your back, your edges smoothed down and secure with a skinny black headband to keep any tendrils from falling in front of your face. You topped off your accessories with a double-layered gold necklace, gold hoop earrings and a few simple gold bands to decorate your fingers. A simple wing of eyeliner, clear mascara, and a smooth application of clear lipgloss had cemented your look and filled you with a sensation of pride that you hoped would ride with you the rest of the night.

The sound of your doorbell pulled you out of your admiration, jumping a little from shock before you grabbed your black clutch and made your way for the door.

It made no sense to look naturally ready to fuck. And yet here he was, at your front door in black pants topped with a black leather belt with a silver buckle to accentuate his trim waist. A dark grey knit long-sleeve top was tucked into his pants, pulling just a little at his pectorals and biceps. The sleeves were pushed up to the middle of his forearms, showing off veiny skin and his signature silver Cartier watch. His thick blonde locks were gelled and parted in his signature style that you had seen every day at work and that familiar cologne was pooling around his form, floating around his feet and waiting to trail after him.

“You’re beautiful.”

The statement left no room for argument as he looked down at you and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You offered a small smile up at him in return, rolling your eyes playfully before you locked your door and followed him to his car.

***

Rory had really outdone himself in such a short time. The studio had been transformed from glaze and paint stained walls, eclectic design, and haphazard decoration, to sleek and modern. The walls which were usually decorated with frames of paintings and photography had been covered with white satin curtains. The bright lights that were often on in the center of the room had been turned off, smaller lights installed instead and directing their low-lit gaze at the various pieces of ceramic art that littered around the room on white stone pillars of varying size. He had forgone the musician and settled with a simple playlist of smooth jazz and R&B that played through the speakers on the walls. A long table of snacks and drinks and a caterer for each dish manned the far wall at the very end of the room. Even though you and Kento were only fifteen minutes late for a three-hour-long event, the room was filled with people talking idly with each other as they gazed at his work.

“Will you be my guide?” Kento teased from next to you, offering his muscular arm before you wrapped into his embrace and chuckled against him.

“You know his style more than I do.”

You couldn’t deny the happiness that filled you as you both wandered from work to work, your mouth flying with different facts about each piece. You told him about Rory’s inspiration for a collection of terracotta pots he had made when you were fifteen, walked him through the process of how he studied indigenous tribes overseas for a few years to gain inspiration on how to craft in a different way.

He listened intently, asking questions often to keep your mind busy, his mind truly interested in everything he was looking at. It made you squeeze his arm a little tighter in affection as you both said hello to Rory before continuing to wander around.

“Do you realize that this could be you?”

You didn’t respond to him as you both studied a set of black stoneware, fashioned to look as if it had been broken from hot coal and molded on the spot. Kento, sensing your apprehension, chose to keep speaking.

“You have a creativity that rivals even Rory.”

You scoffed in reply to his statement. What a ludicrous thing to say; comparing yourself to your uncle who had years of experience and study to hone his craft. And you, who had only thrown pottery on a wheel in your studio in your spare time, would not come as close to this for quite some time.

“Where do you think you get the trait from? You have work in your studio that could be sitting right on these pillars tonight.”

You simply chose to study him further, your eyes prying into him to see if you could pull any sense of a lie from his expressive brown eyes. As usual, you came up short. Kento always exuded a seriousness that gave way to honesty

“I think impending fatherhood has made you soft.”

“I may be happy that I’ll be a father soon, but I have no reason to lie. I will say it until you begin to realize and then continue to do so; you have a gift.”

You swallowed gently, pushing down the rising quivering in your throat from his words. You had a love-hate relationship with his way to simply speak freely. What would come out chopped and filled with anxiety from others was always effortless for Kento. Especially when it was directed at you.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He was clearly trying to soothe you; give you a little space to breathe and soak in his words. You took the bait, smiling softly and nodding before you watched him walk through the crowd and away from you.

Your eyes wandered over Rory’s black stoneware again, admiring the natural orange spots to bring the appearance of rust. You would get there. Once the baby was born and you had just a little more time to breathe, you would dedicate yourself to your work. You had more than enough money to stay unemployed for years and you had resolved to see this through until the end; whether that resulted in success or embarrassment would remain to be seen.

Gojo was hard to miss as he and Ome circled the room and caught your eye, talking—and surprisingly not bickering—as he pointed to certain objects and smiled down at her, mouthing words that seemed to make her chuckle and roll her eyes. Ome was of course as sexy as ever; black pants that hugged her thick thighs and slim waist, a black halter top that showed off chocolate shoulders, her kinky curly hair falling over her shoulders in a twist out she had clearly worked hard on. Her silver eyes were the most entrancing thing in the room. Gojo for all his unnatural height and bright blue eyes that pulled everyone in, was nothing in comparison to her when she was in the room. He waved at you, smiling brightly before his stark gaze landed on what was probably Kento across the room. He whispered something in Ome’s ear before he disappeared into the crowd.

You were intentionally quiet when she reached you, pursing your lips dramatically as you waited for her to speak first. She glared at you instead, seeing through the demeanor almost instantly, gaze cutting as a means to intimidate but only served to bounce off of you.

She sighed in defeat.

“Spit it out.”

“So you and Gojo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggled brightly, rubbing your belly instinctually as you watched her chocolate cheeks darken from blush. She rolled her eyes once, your giggling never ceasing as she rolled them again before the gentle curve of a smile broke her façade and she exhaled with her own incredibly rare giggle herself.

“He’s been…fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Okay, okay. He’s been really, really…sweet. I thought I could intimidate him into backing down but I guess six months of practice made him an expert. He’s…fucking trying and I’m having a good time.”

You wrapped your arm with one of hers, pulling her toward you with another giggle.

“I’m glad. Don’t get too comfy too quick, you might be joining me in the motherhood department with the way he carries himself.”

Ome squawked, smacking away your hand in embarrassment.

“You annoying piece of—”

“Excuse me.”

Your chiding laughter faded away slowly as you turned around to the source of whoever was trying to get your attention. Her appearance gave nothing away and you for sure didn’t recognize her from anywhere else. Red rimmed glasses perched on pale and freckled skin, jet black hair pulled up into a tight high bun, dark jeans, a white top, and red lipstick to make her stand out in the crowd even with her small frame.

“Are you y/n?”

“I am.”

Your confirmation seemed to make the small smile on her face grow significantly. She clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Oh, I’m so glad. Your message said I could find you here. I was hoping to talk to you in person about a potential commission?”

You tilted your head in confusion, your eyes looking quickly through the crowd for Kento but not finding him. Ome shifted beside you, sliding closer to you and reaching for your arm to pull you away if she needed to.

The woman could see the hesitation on your face and dug in her purse to pull out her phone.

“I’ve been following your Instagram page for weeks now and finally had the courage to message you about your work. I even received a response this afternoon on where to meet you so we could talk further.”

You held your composure as she handed you her phone.

The profile was simple and without flair but the pictures, each picture was of the work that you had done over the years. Terracotta and stoneware, partially complete painted china, the odd figurines you had crafted in the privacy of your studio. All of it was there, there was no way this was someone else. The fear of someone sneaking into your house rooted in your mind as you scrolled through picture after picture, going over every single time you had opened and closed the door to your home in Sendai to imagine a possibility that you had left it unlocked.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what’s going…on…here.”

Your words died in your throat, mouth drying up instantly. The very last photo was of you; your messy hair pulled up into a bun, shirt stretched over a smaller belly and hands clutching a stoneware dish as you wrapped it in bubble wrap. You weren’t even looking up in the photo, but the impression was clear. Someone had taken a photo of you, and the sinking reality of who that person was had your heart soaring against your ribcage, pounding relentlessly against your bones, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

You scrolled back up to the top of the page, admiring the profile picture of one of your better works and then refusing to gasp at the bio.

Y/n

Self-taught Ceramic Artist based in Nakameguro

DM for more inquiries

“Kento.”

His name left you on a shaky exhale, your head filling with disbelief. You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of a pair of eyes looking at you, and smiled up softly at her, handing her back the phone.

“I apologize. It seems I have a friend who made this page for me and didn’t tell me. But…I would be happy to make something for you. You’ll have to be patient with me as you’ll be my first client. But we can talk later this week if you want.”

The woman exhaled happily, smiling up at you again before she bowed in respect.

“Thank you so much! I would be honored.”

She pulled her purse over her shoulder, turning to leave before faltering and looking at you.

“You have a wonderful friend.”

The statement made you shake out a small giggle, happiness beginning to flood your veins at a ferocity you weren’t prepared for.

“I suppose I do.”

Ome asked for the profile name from the woman as you remained silent. When she finally walked away and back into the crowd, it was just you and Ome still standing next to one of Rory’s work.

Kento had waited until your back was turned to take those photos that day when you were packing up your studio. He had done all of this without a second thought; creating an Instagram page maybe with Yuji’s help, organizing picture after picture, probably even manning inquiries and messaging that woman right before he got into his car to drive to your house to pick you up.

“Do you realize this could be you?”

“You have work in your studio that could be sitting on these pillars tonight.”

“You have such a gift.”

Ome’s hand on your back made you start, jumping slightly back into reality, your eyes hazy with tears as you looked over at her. You blinked them away, willing them back inside before they could roll down your eyes and give you away when Kento was to find you again. You looked down at your phone for what felt like the 50th time in only two minutes, scrolling through picture after picture, your admiration and affection for him growing by the second.

He had a kindness that you more than deserved but never would have expected to get, especially when you first met. He had only saw your work one time, just once in your studio right before you poured your heart out to him about your mother, and yet he had already resolved to make you realize just how talented you truly were.

All of this for you.

“Are you okay?”

Ome’s voice was soft next to you, rubbing your back and watching as you smiled over at her before nodding, your voice still too tight to speak.

“I can see Gojo trying to find me, so I’ll go to him and give you some space.”

She pulled you into a firm hug, chuckling against your cheek.

“I’m glad I finally have someone in my corner that can make you see reason.”

You pinched her side playfully, not speaking as you watched her disappear from you and in the direction of Gojo.

Kento was by your side only minutes later, his face giving away nothing as he offered you a plastic-covered cup, a string from a teabag hanging from the side.

“Dandelion tea. Helps with water retention and I can imagine standing for this long might make you a little swollen and uncomfortable.”

You exhaled quickly, your shoulder shaking from the action as you took the cup from him.

“They have packets of dandelion tea here?”

Kento tilted his head, his serious eyes gazing at you with an air that made your stomach squeeze.

“No, I brought a packet for you. Events like these require a lot of standing. It only made sense.”

You shook your head in disbelief, eyebrows pinching together as your mind reeled with the force of him. The more that you felt yourself getting used to his usual acts of kindness, the more you realized just how unacclimated you were. Even though you knew his nature, the fact that the person standing in front of you was just…being himself was almost too much to contemplate.

Making you tea for your nausea, texting you the right foods to eat to help with your nutrient intake, rubbing the sore muscles of your body without you having to ask, wanting to spend any moment with you that he could, offering you nothing but honesty and affirmation and affection in every interaction you both had.

For fucks sake even forcing you to put your own feet in the water with your work to show the world and even yourself just how much people were looking.

All of it was only things that Kento could do. Without question and without apprehension.

As he looked down at you, a small smile growing on his straight lips with not a care in the world, you realized in that moment that you wanted to be out of this room and only with him.

“Can we go home? Maybe back to my house? It’s closer and I would like to be away from people if I can.”

A familiar large hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd instantly.

“Whatever you would like, we will do.”

You bit the inside of your lip, both hands gripping the warm cup a little tighter as the flapping in your chest reinforced its existence with a heavy lurch.

***

Your tea was largely forgotten as you set the cup down on your granite kitchen island. You had spent the entire car ride thinking over what you would say and how you would approach him. You had rehearsed it in your head over and over. But now, standing in your large kitchen as you watched him heat up leftover food from last night for you without even having to ask, you found your tongue had curled into the back of your throat, thick and dry and keeping you from speaking.

“Do you want to watch a movie? I found one that I think you might like.”

His attention was elsewhere as he spoke, pulling the reheated pizza from your microwave and setting it on the counter between you both. He finally looked up at you, his straight face coloring with a hint of worry.

“You’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

Hesitation made your bones suddenly heavy, your mouth mute and your resolution teetering on the edge of fear. Kento could read every flicker of emotion in your eyes like a book, walking around the island to stand in front of you, a hand rubbing your upper arm in an attempt to soothe you.

“Are you nauseous? Tired?”

You blinked yourself out of your stupor, steeling what remained of your fraying nerves as you dug in your purse for your phone. He was silent as he watched you unlock it, observing as you opened the app and clicked the recently followed profile. You squeezed the sides of your phone as you looked at the pictures, your conviction hardening in your chest as you decided finally to put the games and worry with him aside.

“A woman found me at the gallery tonight and asked for me to commission something for her. Naturally…I had no idea what she was talking about and she showed me this.”

You turned your phone to face him. Kento wasn’t surprised or caught off guard; his straight face simply looked down at your unlocked phone, brown eyes flickering over the contents quickly before he looked up to meet your gaze, his expression unchanged.

“Did you make this?”

He answered almost immediately, his voice firm and leaving no room for trepidation.

“I did. I took them that night when I helped you pack, and then it took me about a week to put it all together. I’ve been watching it and answering inquiries since then. She was the first person that I felt confident would not be a creep.”

You clutched your phone to your chest, pressing the cold titanium to your cleavage and willing yourself to stay focused. He spoke without a care in the world, muttering the words to you as if he were talking about the weather. As if the act were just a usual stroll down the street.

“I don’t want you to say that I’m speaking nonsense. I don’t want a vague answer and I don’t want you to tell me something just to make me feel better. I need to know, now. Why did you do it?”

He pulled in a steady breath, broad shoulders rising with the movement before he squinted down at you and opened his full straight lips to speak.

“We had a rather rough start, didn’t we? Always barking at each other in conference rooms, demeaning each other’s’ prowess whenever we could. All because I was an asshole who did not like change and was content to coast through a job I loathed. But even though we both couldn’t stand each other; I was always thinking about you. Even when I swore to myself that you were no good, I loved every word that came out of your mouth, every glare you sent my way, every laugh that fell from your lips when Yuji or Gojo told you a joke. You were always the smartest person in the room and I gravitated to you. Even when I was drunk out of my mind, you were all I wanted. I hated it. But I realized quite quickly that I hated how much I had messed up when I could have done so much better with you.”

You swallowed the heavy lump in your throat, trying your best to will away the lightheadedness as his words lofted down between you both to settle on your face.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only acting this way because of the baby. If anything, she’s shown me everything that I want. I want to be able to take care of you while she grows inside of you. I want to be there when she comes into the world. I want to be there for every diaper change and late night when we are both too exhausted to stand…I want to be there for every meal and birthday and holiday, but I want you with me. I want to be there with you every day, for everything. I got your job back, put your ideas in front of those who would listen, and helped fire the ones who wronged you because you deserve it all. I made that page because I want you to understand how special you are and I want others to see that as well, and if that means I have to give you a push then I’ll do it a million times over.”

The sound of your phone creaking as you squeezed the metal in your hands pulled the fuzz out of your mouth. Your vision was swimming with tears, threatening to spill over and start a spicket that you wouldn’t be able to stop. You could feel yourself sinking, wanting to sob in happiness but too embarrassed to show him. So naturally, you turned to humor as a distraction from your bubbling nervousness. You cleared your throat gently and lifted your chin up at him.

“You speak like you’re reading wedding vows. You don’t think it’s a little soon?”

Kento’s eyes widened fractionally in surprise, his cheeks dusting red before he schooled his features and narrowed his eyes down at you in admonishment.

“That’s not funny. Stop teasing.”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that warbled from the back of your throat, your hands relaxing around your phone before you set it on the counter next to you. You looked up at him, admiring the subtle blush on his cheeks that still hadn’t faded away, reveling in the emotions dancing in his eyes; vulnerable and uncertain. You took another step closer to him, the gap between you both now only inches apart.

“So, you want me then?”

You of course already knew what he was going to say. For months now, Kento had done nothing but show who he really was; kind and honest, unwavering in his feelings and affirming of yours, protecting of you in such a fierce way that the force of it was still something you had yet learned how to handle. There were so many other things that you could try and think about another time. You knew deep down that he wasn’t going anywhere. But to hear him speak the words you wanted to hear, just one more time to satisfy the urge for a few months, it would be more than enough for you.

He wrapped both of his arms around your waist, warm skin sliding against your duster and leeching into the tight fabric of your dress. The smell of him dancing along your skin, caressing and groping in a way that had you reeling.

You watched in growing delight as the corners of his lips curved with a soft smile, brown eyes melting almost immediately.

“Of course, I want you. I want you every minute of every day. I admire you and--I like you…more than you can imagine.”

The resolution had cemented in your chest, pushing away all your nerves and apprehension at once as he spoke the words to you; serious and firm and unrelenting in a way that only Kento could convey.

Mentally grasping the sudden abundance of courage, you closed the gap between you both and buried your hands in his shirt, bunching the fabric and yanking him down towards you until his nose brushed against yours. You quietly admired the sight of his eyes widening just an inch, bright brown eyes blowing out slowly.

“You’re a very sappy man, Kento. I’m surprised you don’t cry more.”

The rare chuckle that was growing more and more common around you shot out onto your skin, brushing against your cheeks and smoothing down the sides of your neck.

“The teasing won’t ever stop, will it?”

The hands around your waist yanked you even closer to him, your chest molding against his and forcing your neck to crane slightly to look up at him because of his tall form. The ring of his irises was thin, barely noticeable in the kitchen lights as you felt the heat from his body increase in temperature.

“Is that a problem, Kento?”

“Absolutely not.”

You both moved at the same time, crashing your lips against one another and igniting a fire that had been poked and prodded for almost six months, finally laying more coals down to watch it grow to a volatile level. His hands were insistent, digging into the meat of your hips with a force that had you hissing in satisfaction, your own hands twisting into his shirt, fingernails catching on the fabric and pulling hard.

The brush of the cold countertop against your back made you jolt, pulling your lips from his as you gasped from the feeling. There was no space between you both, your boundary had shattered a long time ago around him. Even slouched over to reach your lips, Kento towered over your small frame, boxing you in between his hot body and the granite behind you. His broad chest was heaving against your chest, panting deeply as you felt one of his hands leave your waist and twine between your fingers, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Your bedroom.”

His voice was low, lower than what you were expecting and the words carried nothing but demand as you felt your spine zip with electricity. You squeezed his hand and wordlessly led him through your living room, down the hall, and into your large master bedroom.

You had decided to stick with the taupe-colored walls but opted to paint the accent wall a light sage. Your walls were decorated ornately with paintings and pictures, a collection of small impressionist works you had accumulated over time and a vast array of pictures of you, Ome, Rory, and your friends throughout the course of your life. An antique vanity that you had saved up for years ago sat against one of your walls, skincare bottles and your minimalist makeup lay on the refurbished countertop.

The sight of your California King platform bed reminded you immediately of the tall man behind you, quiet and imposing as you felt his chest brush against your back. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip, the pain keeping you grounded and lucid as one of Kento’s hands brushed your curls over a shoulder, exposing your neck to him. The hot press of his lips on the skin had your eyes rolling, fluttering closed as you instantly bent to his will, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. You couldn’t remember when your duster had come off or even when long fingers dipped underneath the thin straps of your dress before they were giving way and falling over and down your shoulders, allowing the fabric to tumble down your body and onto the floor. Your bra and panties were nothing special, you had always opted more for comfort these days and the lacier garments you did have were a bit too small now.

You had both seen each other stark naked before, had been pressed together and sweaty and panting and groaning against one another to leave no room to hide so this wasn’t anything new.

But that was before you knew more about him, before he had given you a child and peeled layer after layer of your soul until nothing was left. Now you were both free of inebriation and that ghosting feeling of anxiety slowly began to make itself known, familiar invisible tendrils dancing up your body menacingly.

All too quickly, Kento was turning you around to face him, an action that managed to dissipate the tendrils around you if only for a moment. His eyes were heady with lust and something else you couldn’t quite place, dark and blown out as his gazed roved over your skin.

You were proud of your growing belly; at five and a half months it wasn’t that big yet and you had no trouble getting around and reaching for things. But the soft curve of it did make you feel a little self-conscious. It wasn’t the smooth and slightly toned brown skin he had trailed his tongue down months ago. It wasn’t the same, but you knew Kento could care less.

Warm hands grabbed your hips, guiding you backwards until you were sinking down onto the soft black duvet on your bed. You swallowed hard as you watched him sag down to his knees onto the plush rug on the floor, his eye level now only a few inches taller than yours before he was leaning in again and taking your lips in a manner that seemed to leave you breathless. He wanted this, wanted you. In every way, shape, and form. And the finality of it registering in your body had you building with newfound confidence as you reached behind yourself and unhooked your bra, casting it aside and leaving your top half bare except for your gold necklace.

He took it as an invitation, his hands smoothing up your torso, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts before the pad of them ran over your nipples. You knew you were more sensitive lately, but the feel of his thumbs brushing against you had you whimpering into Kento’s mouth, your hands digging into the sheets behind you as you arched more into his touch. His lips were hot and wet as they trailed down your neck to suck and knead at your skin, gnawing at the soreness from the mark he left days ago before they dipped lower to brush against your collarbone, his thick tongue licking the bone against your thin skin.

Ten minutes. It had taken ten minutes for Kento to go from gentleman with his kisses and smooth hands, to perverted beast with a long and insistent tongue that needed to taste every inch of your skin. You let out a shaky breath as you looked down at him, refusing to whimper as his eyes caught yours, tongue out and pressed to your skin before trailing it down your breast and toward a nipple, twirling the bud before he sucked it into his mouth. The moan from your mouth caught you off guard, a little loud and jarring to your body as you tried to sift through the painful pleasure radiating up your spine. His hand grabbed your other breast, kneading the sensitive skin before two fingers rolled a nipple between them and pinched down.

You squeaked, sagging back onto your hands on the bed and letting your head fall back between your shoulder blades as you looked up at the ceiling, mouth open and panting.

Kento promised himself he would go slow. He wanted to take his time with you, touch every single inch until you were a whimpering, pleading mess that was begging for him with tears in your eyes.

It’s what he told himself when you answered the door in your tight dress, block heels, and long curls. It’s what he reinforced in his mind when you were close enough to taste his breath, teasing him even after he had laid himself bare. And it’s what he kept repeating in his head even now, a tongue licking a pert nipple in a gentle caress that had you shaking, your hands threatening to slip as your resolve broke further and further. But he was teetering on the edge, his mind running with salacious thoughts the more he tasted the salt of your skin and listened to the broken whimpers leaving your mouth. He hadn’t even touched your cunt yet, and he was trying to get himself together before he did. Just the thought of you hot and wet and dripping for him had him stiffening in his pants.

As soon as he acknowledged his resolve, it crumbled, a large and hot hand trailing from one of your breasts to dip behind the fabric of your panties. The sigh that left your mouth was deep and heavy, your head whipping down to look at him as his fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through the wetness of your slick. You dug your fingers into the fabric on his shoulders, eyebrows pinching in frustration.

“Stop teasing, Kento.”

A thick finger dipped between your folds, pressing into the hole of your cunt down to the knuckle. You jolted against him, shaking a breathy moan from your dry throat as you glared down at him.

“Being teased doesn’t feel that great all of a sudden?”

His face was straight and unchanging, eyes holding a glint of mirth as his muscular arm moved back and forth, the wrist flexing as the thick finger attached stroked in and out of your wet center. You needed more, craved more; the itchiness of your skin was slowly starting to become more insistent, hips arching toward him begging for another to give you the stretch you were seeking. Your face was like an open book, your emotions and needs laid bare for him and he smiled in response, a rare show of pearly white and straight teeth shocking you.

“You want more, baby?”

Your cunt clenched around his finger at the name, more slick gushing out just from the heat and timbre of his voice. You bit your bottom lip, nodding fervently as you dug your fingers harder into the fabric on his shoulders.

“Is this not enough?”

You couldn’t help the small growl that bubbled in your throat, a glare shooting his way, cutting through his indifferent air and making him smile softly again. He finally relented, slowly pulling his finger out of you, reveling in the wet muscle that squeezed him in an effort to keep him inside. He swallowed a groan, cock twitching in his pants and eyes looking up at you as he popped the wet finger in his mouth, sucking off your slick with a leery gaze.

You couldn’t handle the teasing any longer, choosing instead to scoot back on your bed and plop your head down on the pillows to prop you up, watching in silence as Kento stayed kneeled at the foot of the bed, an elbow pressing into the sheets as he propped his chin on a relaxed hand.

“I thought you wanted me?”

It was a low blow for you to say, but with the arousal thrumming in your veins, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I always want you.”

“Then stop stalling and take off your clothes.”

He sighed dramatically, slowly coming to stand as he cast you a look of indifference. He was playing a game that he wouldn’t win, and you intended to let him know that.

“Unless you’re stalling for a reason? Afraid you’ll bust too soon?”

That hit something in him immediately, his tall and muscular body freezing, intense eyes flashing with shock, realization of what you were doing, and then resolution as he narrowed his eyes. He knew you were goading him, could smell it from across your large bed; but he wouldn’t let you get away with it regardless.

Kento’s hands reached for the hem of his shirt, dipping beneath the fabric before he pulled it over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. You clenched your thighs together at the sight; your haze all those months ago had not done the memory of him justice. You forgot about the smooth pectorals that pulled his shirts a little too tight, or the tight abs and v cut that led down to something promising in his pants. His torso was without blemish except the light dusting of blonde hair that trailed down and disappeared behind his belt. You pressed your fingers into your sheets as they itched to reach across the bed and touch.

“Bust too soon? You and I both know that’s not true. Now, spread your legs for me, baby.”

You were heating with embarrassment as you felt the blood boil beneath your cheeks, your chest hitching with breath as you slowly obeyed him, opening your legs to show him your lavender panties. Kento’s eyes seemed to dilate further as he looked down at your covered pussy, his mouth watering at the sight of the dark spot conveying the heavy arousal you were steadily giving off. You ignored the growing itch at the base of your spine as you watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and push down his pants and underwear, finally freeing the rest of his skin for you to look at.

You’d forgotten how big he was but seeing it again was jarring. Long enough not to be overbearing, but thick to the point your cunt throbbed in anticipation. His cock hung heavy, twitching at the act of you staring, the tip gathering a small drip of precum. You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood, your patience pulling thin.

“Show me what I want.”

His tone left no room for argument, his eyes sharp and focused as he kneeled on the bed. Your hand trembled for only a second as you pushed your panties to the side, showing him your dripping cunt that was more than ready to be stuffed full.

He tutted, shaking his head in disappointment as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be shy. Show me all of it, baby.”

You whined softly, fighting the thrumming in your veins as you used your fingers to spread your folds apart, your hole fluttering from the sudden rush of cold air in the room. It was completely obscene, and your face was on fire, but you couldn’t bear the thought of him not touching you.

“Good girl.”

The praise washed over you like a wave of hot water, sliding over your skin and trailing down your body. You watched him crawl toward you, muscular shoulders bunching and curling over his rotator cuffs as he hovered over you, one hand bunching in the hair at the nape of your neck while the other slid your panties down your legs, your traces of arousal catching on the skin of your calves as the fabric dropped off the side of the bed. His lips were on yours in an instant, no more pretense necessary as you let his thick tongue part your lips and make a home in your mouth. It was messy and heated, your heart hammering as you tried to keep yourself under control.

The feel of two long fingers pressing hard against your clit had you arching up into him, a whine ripping from your throat and into his mouth as he licked the skin of your bottom lip. He circled slippery fingers once, twice, and one final time against your bundle of nerves before he slid his fingers inside of you without warning and up to the knuckle. You gasp harshly, pulling away from his mouth to dig your nails in the skin of his trapezius muscles.

“Such a wet little thing, you’re dripping.”

He fingered you with a finesse that had you trembling, the pads of his submerged fingers finding that spongy wall inside of you within a second before he was curling up, shooting burning pleasure through your core to pool at the base of your spine. He was relentless, curling over and over, thumb rubbing against your clit, his sharp eyes watching in concealed wonder as your moans grew in pitch, unflinching as your dug your nails harder into his skin.

“More Kento.”

You had planned to beg on his cock, you at least thought you would get that far. But the pleasure had come early just from his fingers alone and your dignity was in shambles. He tilted his head in confusion, a muscular arm still shifting with movement as he slowed down his ministrations.

“I thought I was giving you more?”

You whimpered hard in frustration, eyebrows pinching together and eyes prickling with the urge to build with tears. You blinked them away before they could form, frowning up at him.

“Stop it. You’re being unfair—”

He cut you off before you could beg any further, his eyes hard and the hand in your hair tightening fractionally as he spoke.

“You’re going to cum on my fingers and on my tongue, and then I’ll fuck you, darling.”

It was all you could ask for and still not enough.

“But—”

“Stop making demands when all you’ve done is tease.”

His tone was dark, heavy with lust and firmness as his fingers gave a sudden curl inside of you, pulling a loud moan from your mouth.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Even with the haze in his mind, his concern was evident on his face. Always thinking of you, even when every part of his body wanted to bury inside of you. You smiled up at him, shaking your head as the childish frustration billowed away in the hot air between you.

“Never. I’m just being a brat.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Something you seem to do well.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, reveling in the chuckle that rumbled against your chest from him. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and reassuring to counteract the firmness he had given you just moments ago. When he pulled away, he brushed his lips against your nose, smiling softly as he looked down at you.

“If it’s ever too much, if I hurt you in any way or if you want to stop, tell me at once.”

You nodded quickly, anticipation beginning to bubble in your gut for the millionth time that night. He pursed his lips in disapproval, the fingers stilling inside of you immediately. You whimpered harshly, teeth digging into the skin of your lip as you fluttered your eyes up at him.

“Speak to me. I need you to use your words.”

“Y-yes. I promise, I’ll tell you if I want you to stop or if it’s too much.”

The disapproval fell from his face and disappeared in the heady scent of his cologne around you, a smirk etching in its place as he kissed your lips.

“Good girl.”

The praise was dizzying, his emotions were practically giving you whiplash as you struggled to keep yourself grounded as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking the skin to leave yet another mark before he licked over the spot in satisfaction. You buried your fingers in the pillow beneath your head, panting heavily as you watched him—eyes locked with his—as that familiar thick and wet tongue slid down your skin, gathering the salt between the valley of your breasts, over the gentle swell of your stomach and down to your throbbing cunt. His eyes stayed on yours, your skin heating with an intensity that was making you faint as you watched him use the hand not inside of you slide beneath your knee, pushing it up and over his shoulder. You obeyed his unspoken command to not look away even as he dug his straight teeth into the skin of your inner thighs, pulling a sharp gasp from you that grew in pace as he kissed closer and closer before his tongue licked a smooth strip up your clit, dipping between the two fingers submerged in you to join the heat inside. The moan that left you was broken and deep, satisfaction sliding into the air from your mouth.

You were beautiful, he thought to himself as he watched you; panting and moaning from your place on the sheets above him as his tongue stroked inside of you, alternating with the movement of his fingers. Your hands were buried in the pillow beneath you, pulling the fabric hard to cushion against your ears as your teeth dug harshly into your skin, your lips swollen and red. You wouldn’t last long, the increased blood circulation from pregnancy had left you sensitive and engorged all over, the pleasure ten times more intense, more sensitive, your cunt throbbing from every touch and that familiar white hot pleasure beginning to curl more at the base of your spine. You could feel the muscles in your legs and back begin to tighten, your stomach clenching and bunching with every stroke of his tongue on your clit and every curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

You were barely coherent as you felt the promise of your first orgasm of the night make its intentions known, your legs twitching and chest heaving as you felt your back begin to arch. He was a man starved as he ate you out, the thick muscle of his tongue brushing against your bundle of nerves at just the right pressure, his fingers twisting at just the right speed.

“One more, baby. Let me stretch you out so you can take me.”

You nodded obediently, slack jawed and panting up into the air as you felt another finger slide inside of you, stretching you to the point where you could only shake out a disbelieving moan, eyes squeezing tight as the pleasure began to race down your spine and into your cunt. Your hands flew into his hair, burying inside of thick and soft locks and pulling him closer to you, the action making him groan against your clit. The vibration only served as a kick start to bringing your orgasm forth, your moans climbing higher and higher in pitch until you felt him curl those three fingers one last time, bursting the gates open.

You cursed harshly into the air, hips writhing against his still moving fingers and tongue as your orgasm pooled down your legs and back into your blood, ready to circulate again when he was inside of you. Kento was practically rutting into the mattress, using any sort of friction to soothe the throbbing of his cock and disgusting thoughts of being inside of your tight heat as he slid his fingers out of you and crawled back up your body.

You watched him breathlessly as he popped a finger in his mouth one by one, sucking the juices of you from his skin. You reached for his wrist to stop him, wrapping your hand around it and pulling his hand toward you before you slid the last slick covered finger into your mouth, twirling your tongue around the appendage and admiring your own taste.

“Shit.”

The hiss from his lips was full of surprise as he watched you pop his finger from your mouth and push his hand back down to your cunt, pressing against you insistently before you whispered words to him that he had been dreaming for weeks.

“Fuck me.”

He hissed out another curse, sliding a pillow beneath your hips and making you comfortable above all else even though his blood was pounding in his ears, cock twitching to the point of pain. Your hands were burning on his skin, trailing up his chest to bury at the nape of his neck as you felt him press against your entrance, hot and leaking.

He kept his gaze on your hooded eyes as he pressed his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, groaning deeply at the feel of your muscles contracting around him as he made his way inside. Your eyes fluttered harshly, fingers digging into his nape as you felt the muscles in your cunt throb and pulse around him. He was right to finger you with three fingers, but even with that, the stretch of him was intense and overwhelming, bordering on a faint sense of pain that you had to pant your way through. He paused to let you adjust, both of his hands bunching the fabric of your pillows on either side of your head.

“God you’re so tight,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you softly and trying to will the perverted thoughts away. They were pleading with him to slam his hips into you, listen to you moan hard and beg for him to let you cum, scratch at the skin of his chest as he pounded you into the mattress. But it’s been months, and your comfort was more important to him above all else.

The small whimper from your throat pulled him back into the present, kissing your nose softly as he looked down at you.

“You’re doing so well, baby and I’m almost there. Can you take the rest for me?”

You nodded before speaking quickly instead as you remembered what he had asked of you earlier.

He inched further into you, the stretched muscles giving way a little more, pleasure taking its place as you finally felt his hips press against yours. Kento watched you whimper below him, eyes misting over as you squeezed his cock tight, begging for him to move not a second later. His thrusts were slow and calculated, measuring your comfort as he moved in and out of you, using your facial expressions as a compass for what felt okay to avoid hurting the life growing between you both. Even though he could feel you tense below him, your eyes were heavy, mouth open and panting as you trailed your hands down to his biceps.

“Relax for me, darling. Just a little.”

He grabbed your hip, using sudden strength to keep them steady, forcing your body to sag into the bed and his cock to sink into you further, pulling a loud moan from your lips.

“More—more Kento.”

He obeyed you immediately, picking up his pace and stretching the rings of muscles squeezing him like a vice. Your pulse was racing, your heart fluttering like a bird in your ribcage as moan after moan fell past your lips like water. He was hitting spots in you that no other man before could ever touch, handling you with care with the life inside of you but also fucking you with an intensity that had all sense of modesty splintering from you with each steady thrust of his hips.

“I’ve waited almost six months for this.”

The confession hung in the air between you both, no longer shocking you but still a surprise to hear, nonetheless. His blonde locks hung heavy over his forehead, a few tendrils pressing to the skin from the building sweat. His pupils were blown out considerably, lust and arousal oozing from them and falling down onto your skin. A scalding hand grabbed the flesh of one of your thighs, pulling your leg around his waist and sinking himself a little further into you.

“You would be ashamed of how vulgar I’ve been. I think about being inside of you all the time.”

He leaned down, crashing his lips to yours before he pulled away and licked up the side of your neck, panting heavy hot air against your ear.

“I think about how you felt around me that night every day when I’m at work, in the morning when I go for a run, in the shower when I have my hand wrapped around my cock…”

Your cunt fluttered around him, your reservoir of pleasure bubbling from the heat of your skin, spilling over the edges as each thrust began to push against the hard barrier of a rewarding orgasm. The hand holding up your leg smoothed down your skin to the crease of your thigh, angling your hips in a way that had him brushing against the sponginess of your g-spot harshly.

“Oh fuck, right there!”

He obeyed you quickly, adjusting his thrusts to only hit where you wanted him, marveling at your breathy demands. You should have been wincing in pain from the constant onslaught on such a sensitive area, but instead tears were pooling in your eyes, the pleasure squeezing your hips and thighs and lips of your cunt as you moaned unashamedly into the air of your bedroom.

“So fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the yelp that left your mouth, cheeks coloring in embarrassment as you bit the corner of your lip, giving way for the moans to leak from the side of your mouth. You cunt gave another flutter around him, legs tensing and toes curling as brush after brush of his tip against that spot inside you had the tears finally spilling from the corners of your eyes. Your curls were wild beneath you, pooling on the pillow and sticking to the sweat on your face and neck.

“You don’t believe me?”

The hand at your hip grabbed an arm that was around his neck, bringing the skin of your wrist to his mouth before he pressed a soft kiss against your pulse. The breath leaving his mouth was quick against your skin, growing heavy and incessant with each pump inside of you. You couldn’t answer him, your throat was too busy pushing heavy moans out between pinched lips, eyes weighty with tears as you blinked them away constantly. You knew you were beautiful, but it was always scary to think about in such a vulnerable position like what you were in now, open and sweaty and aroused.

“I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. And now you’re finally beneath me; sweaty and messy and moaning like the sweet little thing you are. And all mine.”

Your heart was soaring, mind racing and barely functioning from the heat that was frying the tissue. Every nerve had been exposed and frayed from his intense gaze and heavy touch, every inch of you had been laid bare for him to gawk at, pick at, lick at until you were nothing more than a bubbling mess.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

His tone was hard and firm, demanding that you acknowledge your own vulnerability and face it head on as he plowed into you with renewed fervor, your cunt quivering once before squeezing him tightly.

“Y-yes!”

He growled beneath his breath, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yes, what?”

He pressed his cock harshly to the spongy wall of your g-spot, pulling a wet moan from your lips as you arched your back and sobbed in pleasure, your lower back tightening.

“I’m yours! I’m yours!”

The admission slipping from your lips filled you with a sensation of warmth, marveling at the thought of him only wanting this with you.

“That’s right, baby. You’re right there, I can feel it.”

His acknowledgement seemed to spur you on, the tight muscles of your back heating and burning beneath your skin, your legs twitching and pussy pulsating around him as you felt that white hot sensation burn you from the inside out.

“Gonna cum—I can’t! Oh god, I’m gonna cum K-kento!”

You were clenching him constantly, pulling groans from his full lips and refusing to be ashamed as you choked on your breath, toes curling into the sheets and head pressing into the pillow behind you.

“Take what you want from me, darling. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You felt a thumb dip down to gather the wetness around your cunt before he stroked once then twice on your clit, yanking the orgasm from your spine.

His name fell from your lips, tears leaking from the sides of your eyes as the pleasure ebbed and flowed over your skin, licking away the dying embers as your muscles loosened and relaxed and you came floating back into your body.

You were eyes were heavy and your chest was heaving to catch your breath; satisfied and exhausted but still ready for more so he could cum.

Kento pulled out of you slowly before rolling you both over, your body now on top of him and still panting against his chest as he moved you both back so that he could sit up and rest against the headboard of your bed. You pulled away from his sweaty skin to look at him; exhausted and satisfied heaving breaths hitting his face as you pulled your hips up to hover over him. His cock was throbbing and red and wet from your arousal, twitching incessantly and begging to be wrapped in your heat again as you dragged your puffy and quivering pussy along the thick head of his tip. You smashed your lips against his, licking into his eager mouth as you sank down onto him in one fluid movement, leaving no time for him to adjust at the sudden sensation.

Large hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing hard to ground himself from the onslaught of the tightness that you encompassed. He pulled away from the wet kiss, hissing deeply from the feel of you, a soft moan panting hot into your mouth before he was guiding your movements on top of him, helping you slide up and down his shaft, the action easy from the soaked juices of your folds.

It took less than a minute before you were a woman possessed, bouncing on his cock with not a care in the world. Kento was struggling to keep up, hands slipping on the sweat of your skin as he gripped you harshly, angling your hips in a way that had him sinking deeper without causing discomfort.

His hair was a mess, more locks stuck to his face and forehead, eyebrows pinched in concentration, full lips parted slightly as he panted against you.

Suddenly you felt his hands dig into the cheeks of your ass, digging his fingers into the plushness of your skin and angling your back to arch your body into him so he could slip inside further.

“You feel so fucking good. So, so good. Hot and wet and tight, such a good girl.”

You were delirious with pleasure as you listened to him, basking at the feel of his thick cock sliding along your gummy walls that were quaking with overuse. You were overstimulated beyond belief, quivering against him and teetering between pleasure and sensitivity, lips brushing against his with every bounce on his length. The thickness of him and the feeling of being split open stoked some primal fire inside of you, your clit throbbing unexpectantly as it brushed against the skin of his abdomen over and over, the sensation making you shake.

You were going to cum again.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief, but your body had a mind of its own, determined to bring you to nirvana one last time before you passed out against him. Your jaw went slack, hands digging into his hair to anchor yourself as you rode him with a newfound fervor that had him reeling.

He was in awe of you as he watched you take control, thigh muscles bunching and clenching with your movements, never ceasing even though they began to quake in pain. The smell of sex in the air, the feel of your hot skin against his, your gold necklace slapping against your collarbone, nipples brushing against his chest, slick from your pussy sliding along his shaft and down his balls, it was all too much. He felt faint, head foggy with lust and a steady coiling pleasure in his stomach and balls that was making his muscles ache.

Suddenly the sounds coming from your mouth morphed into words, quiet and whispered against his lips as you spoke with unfocused eyes.

“So big—so big, split—splitting me open. I’m so full. More, more, more.”

The words were falling from your lips, uncaring if he or anyone else heard them, cheeks red from exertion and stained with drying tears, hair clinging to your face, nails digging into his scalp as you rode him with only one goal in mind.

He realized with a satisfied thought that you were using him, taking him in whatever way you wanted for your own pleasure as your blown out and unfocused eyes stayed locked with his.

He hissed your name, the familiar feeling of his balls tightening egging him on. As quiet and serious of a man as Kento was, he was surprisingly vocal as his groans increased in consistency.

“Tell me how well I’m fucking you.”

His command sliced through the air between you both, forcing you to come back to reality just a little bit. You were already delirious with pleasure, brain barely functioning as the weak embers of your impending orgasm steered your bravery to let the words tumble from your lips.

“You’re fucking me so well. Big and thick and fucking me just how I like. Keep going, Kento. Don’t stop.”

He groaned harshly into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing severely as he chased his release and equally yours, his cock hitting that spot inside you ceaselessly and pulling tears to your eyes again as you felt your body alight with fire.

You were steadily chanting into the air, breathy and delirious whispers of don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop sliding into his ears, making his heart hammer against his chest, his fingers clench harder into your skin, his desire for you swelling and spilling over the edges of his seal of control. 

He reached between you both, stroking your clit at a rate that had you throwing your head back and hollering into the night air. He watched your Adams apple bob and stutter inside of your throat, moans piercing his ears as your entire body seized and you fell over the cliff of ecstasy for the final time of the night.

His name fell from your lips in a broken cry, fingers wet from the sweat in his hair, squeezing and pulling from the tautness of your muscles. Your head was swimming through the thick fog of pleasure as you came back down from your high, throat dry and stuck as you swallowed your dying moans, your body still moving atop of him as you realized through your haze that he still hadn't cum.

A sharp groan from him pulled you a little more into yourself, gentle moans still leaving your mouth on a staccato from the force of his thrusts up into you. He had taken control of your body completely, squeezing the flesh of your ass and bouncing you on his cock with a fervor that made your entire body jolt from each thrust. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, whimpering and moaning against his cheek, exhaling heavily against his face before you leaned over and pulled his earlobe into your mouth, biting down on the skin. He flinched against you, groaning from surprise and arousal as you licked over the bite marks of his ear.

“You can do it, Ken, hmm?”

You were mad with satisfaction, fucked loose and sweaty and reveling in his sudden sharp breaths and moans against your neck and as he climbed further and further towards his end.

You were encouraging him, breathing hard and heavy into his ear, clenching your core around him in a way that made him see white, the tightness in his balls making dark spots form at the sides of his vision. You weren't like this that night at the hotel. You were drunk and moaning, glaring at him at every chance you could get even though your eyes were rolling with ceaseless pleasure.

But now you were completely yourself; hot and messy, clinging to him until there was no space between you both, dripping slick on every part of his groin and thighs, moaning and whimpering into his ear yes, yes, please, cunt clenching him to the point of delicious pain. 

The thought of being able to have this with you for the unseeable future had him bucking up into you harder, faster, deeper into your pussy until you wailed in his ear, tears spilling over your cheeks as your felt yourself clench impossibly tighter around him.

“That’s it, Kento. Beat this pussy up until I’m sore. Fill me up.”

Your words caught him off guard, unearthing a deep seated part of his brain that he didn’t want to acknowledge as his orgasm pulled from behind his belly button and ripped through him.

“Shit—shit—fuck!”

He moaned hard against the skin of your neck, squeezing you tightly as you felt him twitch harshly and spill into your wet heat, the warmth of it making you moan softly into the sweaty skin of his neck. You relaxed against him, sagging into his chest as you both basked in the comfortable silence of the cooling temperature of your bedroom, only your heaving breaths filling the air. You felt him press a warm kiss to your temple, pulling you back to look at him.

You soaked in the sight of him; forehead sweaty and matted with soaked blonde hair, a heavy ruddy color in his cheeks, his lips swollen and red. The brown of his eyes was returning as he down at you with a warmth that made your chest bubble with an emotion you either couldn’t place or wouldn’t acknowledge right now. He looked…blissfully happy. And it was evident more as a close lipped smile slid onto his face when he leaned down to press his lips to yours. You found your fingers carding through the hair on the nape of his neck, massaging and stroking his scalp as he pulled away to look down at you, his serious expression laced with a finality of what you both had just done.

You hummed, looking up at him before pursing your lips, your lids heavy with idyllic satisfaction and exhaustion.

“Not bad, slick.”

Kento chuckled harshly against your cheek before landing a smack to your ass that had you gasping up against him, giggles bursting from your throat at the shock and excitement as you watched him roll his eyes dramatically and slide out of you with a playful glower before carrying your still giggling form to the bathroom.

***

You realized with shocking—and satisfying—clarity that Kento was clingy, especially after sex. He had always hovered around you in public and even alone before you two had started putting your hands on each other, but now that an orgasm and acknowledged feelings were in the picture, his hands never stopped reaching for you. He couldn’t keep to himself in the shower, using your ‘fragile state as the mother of his child’ (his words, not yours) as an excuse to wash your body. He tried his best to feel on you through the soft fabric of your towel as he dried you off, quiet and observing as he wiped the pellets of water from your skin. He did give you space when you put on lotion, content to watch you with silent curiosity, a towel hanging low on his waist, as you lathered shea butter into your skin, paying extra care to the swell of your stomach.

You didn’t mind at all. He wasn’t overbearing in the slightest, you could tell he was making up for lost time. But you loved it all the same.

It turns out he really was serious about that movie he had brought up earlier in the night You watched him open Netflix on your laptop, eyes practically bulging from your skull as he pressed play for a movie that you would have never imagined him taking a second glance at.

“The Proposal?”

He looked back at you with a straight face, eyes indifferent and relaxed, his drying hair flopping against his forehead. His torso was bare, muscles bunching as he twisted back towards you, grey sweatpants—you thanked Ome mentally for liking to sleep in big clothes—stretching against his thighs as he pulled himself back towards your pillows and manhandled you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest.

“Is there something wrong with The Proposal?”

His voice rumbled against your back as you watched him use his foot to bring your computer closer, the movie beginning to play.

You flinched for a second as his hands carded through your curls, ignoring the cut reaction to smack his fingers away, and staying quiet as he parted down the middle and separated the hair into sections before putting your hair into long three strand braids and sliding the bonnet from underneath your pillow onto your scalp.

“H-how did you—”

“While many may think I am aloof, I do not thrive on being arrogant and misinformed about others who are not like me. Our daughter will be half Black which means things will be different for her in a way unlike everyone else. That includes her hair which needs unique care to be healthy. So I’ve been…watching videos.”

He cleared his throat, thankful you couldn’t see just how red his cheeks were as his fingers pressed down into the small of your back, massaging the sore muscles and undoing any kinks from the exhausting sex you both had basked in.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, your cheeks aching from the stretch, chest filling with warmth as you watched the movie in front of you.

You knew Kento was a different breed, but it felt so good to see it, to hear it from him. It felt good to imagine him hunched over, eyes squinting in concentration as he watched a YouTube guru on his television show him what a washday routine looked like. It felt good to think of your daughter in the same position you were in now; between his legs and watching tv as he braided her hair before bed. You cursed inwardly, blinking furiously as you felt a tingle in your eyes, willing away the tears before they could build.

“You’ll be a good father, Kento.”

The conclusiveness in your voice was enough to reassure him as he pressed further into the flesh of your back, humming in acknowledgement. He watched the movie in silence, eyes locked on the screen and arm moving fluidly as he rubbed your skin, watching as Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds bickered with one another.

“Why this movie?” You found yourself asking, unable to hide the curiosity for long. You felt him shrug from behind you.

“It’s one of my favorites.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, forcing yourself to remember this moment so you could tell Ome tomorrow. Nanami Kento may be serious and indifferent with a face that barely conveyed how he was really feeling, but you had gotten to see almost everything that others would never get to. They wouldn’t get to watch reality tv with him or try to bargain pieces of his R&B collection. They wouldn’t get to know that he liked cheese pizza with no toppings and thick crust.

Not even now would they be able to marvel at the rare low laugh that fell from his open lips, deep in his gut and free flowing against your neck, your body shaking with the force of him as both the main characters ran stark naked into each other on the screen of your laptop.

This Kento was reserved only for you.

[stardustsorbet]

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓-𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐖/ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍

WARNINGS ⁞ angst, breakups, mentions of established relationships, alcoholism, crying. writing this because if I can’t be happy nobody can (*´-`)

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 — 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄

Kaveh stays up late normally, but when you two called it quits he couldn’t help but stay up even later to keep his mind distracted. His commissions got done abnormally quickly, but there would always be a hint of inspiration from you in his designs. You loved Padisarahs, so in every bit where nature could be featured, there are Padisarahs in patches of grass. Some commissioners seem worried, little tear stains visible on the layout, though he tried his best to avoid ruining his work. Eye bags would cling to his eyes, watching over the thrown away sketches. Just then he could only realize how bad this had all ruined him.

𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 — 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒

This guy is a total dweeb (lovingly) in his taste of books, but once you two break up, he can’t help but indulging in a new genre of literature: romance. He’ll never admit it, as nonchalant as he is, but he wishes that maybe if he read these books earlier, he’d be able to take inspiration from them. Watch firework shows with you, dance in the rain, wash your hair delicately. Maybe then, just maybe, the timeline would be different. You would both be happy in each other’s arms.

𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎 — 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ��𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

Albedo always appreciated the beauty of everything around him. However, when your relationship comes to an end, he can’t help but notice even more. He’d notice beauty in the things that reminded him of you. For example, a little blue bird wasn’t just a sweet, innocent creature. It was something you’d coo and whistle at, and with everything he could see how your gentle nature would come into play. He sketches absentmindedly, and in each piece of landscape he doodles, he can envision exactly where you’d stand, gazing back at his with that beautiful smile you always wore.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 — 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐌

He’s never violent when he’s drunk thankfully enough, but he sure is emotional. Finding forgotten letters from the previous nights, vision hazy as he tries to read the nonsense he spouted onto the pages. Diluc can’t help but test wine of his a lot more efficiently, craving the way he just forgets about you for the briefest of moments, at least in a completely coherent way. In true Mondstadter fashion, he becomes more receptive to drinks poured for him. Sometimes, however, he’ll have a late night at the tavern when another employee is managing and fall asleep upon the counter. He’d wake up with a blanket covering his shoulders, and it smells just like you.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 — 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆

Zhongli never thought it would be unfortunate to work in a slow business, but as boredom kicks in, the mind wanders. Working the front at the parlor is a rather unproductive task, most action going on in the back as the deceased are embalmed and taken care of. It gives him time to think. Think about where everything went wrong, how he could’ve stopped this from happening. He’d think about the future you could’ve had, the places you could’ve gone, the memories you could’ve made. He daydreams about the smallest things, like counting the moles upon your body, waking you up with a subtle kiss on the forehead, things he used to do when things were easier; normal.

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤

summary: as tensions rise between your tribe at Black Hat and the Ottos at the ranch, you're certain the killing won't end. Of course, things start to change when the Clarks join the ranch, and one Clark in particular seems to be after the same thing as you: peace.

warning/s: mentions of discrimination, violence, death and injury.

author's note: hey all! so this was a request on here about a month ago and i've been trying very hard to get it written up, but between work and being ill lol, it's been hard. Finally though, it's here! this first chapter is a lil quick-paced to get through the scenes in the show, but it slows down after this and there’s much more alicia x you scenes too. four parts to expect, so stay tuned :)

(also peep the new layout 👀)

two / three / four / masterlist / wattpad

I was finishing eating lunch when my dad returned from his outing with a small party from our tribe. He didn't look hurt in any way thankfully, but when he spotted me, he dismissed those around him so he could speak to me privately.

"Hey, Y/N," he sighed, pulling me in for a side hug. "How are you?"

I returned the hug, curious to what he wanted to share. "I'm good. What happened? Did you get into another confrontation with the ranchers?"

The ranchers were those inhabiting Broke Jaw Ranch, owned by the Otto family, and whom had problems with us at Black Hat Reservation ever since they stole our land. Prior to the dead rising, my father and ancestors had been trying to win back the land the legal way, but legalities never worked in our favour. Now, no more laws meant resorting to the old fashioned method – violence. And that was exactly what the ranchers practiced, which made me fear every time my father left our home.

"We came across Troy and some others," my dad explained. Troy was one of Jeremiah Otto's sons – the other being Jake – who also headed up the ranch, and he was an absolute dickhead, but a dangerous one. "We warned them to stay away from us."

"You think they'll listen?" I asked.

He tried not to smile as he suddenly threw a bag on the ground from his back, and out tumbled several pairs of boots. Presumably Troy and his party's.

"They should get the hint," he answered. "And if not, they know the helicopter was us. They know what we're capable of."

I sighed inwardly, knowing he was referring to the helicopter our people had shot out of the sky the other night. It wasn't something I was particularly proud of, even if I wasn't directly involved, but it did serve to send a message. I understood why we did it, but sometimes I only wanted peace and not more violence.

"What is it?" he asked, sensing something was wrong.

I looked up at him, expression softening. "Can't we try to negotiate with them? I'm sure if we agreed to speak with Jake–"

"You know what this land means to our people," he said sternly. "The Ottos don't negotiate. Never have. Why would we try to meet them halfway?"

I nodded slowly, having heard this many times before. And to an extent, he was right. The ranchers and the Ottos were all the same, as experience had shown us. They didn't like us one bit, solely because we were different to them.

But if there was a chance at negotiation, Jake would be the one to go to. The most levelheaded of the Ottos, he wanted a peaceful solution, too. But my father didn't trust him, nor see it that way. And maybe I should've started to think like him, too.

"Sorry, I know you're right," I admitted. "I'm just tired of trying to survive, even now. I thought it would be over."

My dad frowned apologetically before pulling me in for a hug. "We're going to get our land back. And they aren't going to hurt us anymore. We've got the upper hand now, Y/N, you just wait."

I nodded, returning his hug, and tried to stop being so soft. His methods weren't always agreeable, but maybe they were necessary to winning this war.

"I'm gonna double check our security on the perimeter," he said once he pulled away. "Take care of yourself."

I offered him a small smile as I watched him walk away, before it faded and I felt shitty all over again. Deciding to get my mind off it, I went to the well to get some water, only for Ofelia to join my side and earn my attention.

"Hey, you look down," she noticed, glancing at me as she filled her bottle up. "What's up?"

Ofelia was one of our newest members of the Black Hat Reservation, someone my father saved from dying out in the desert. As I'd gotten to know her more and more, we became quite good friends and I was grateful to have her around, not really opening up to many people like I did her.

"Just thinking about all this stuff with the ranch," I admitted. "It's tiring is all."

"They should give back what they stole," Ofelia said with a sigh. "They can't get away with it, even now."

"I know," I agreed. "I just– sometimes I feel like the violence is a never ending cycle. They steal from us. We fight them. They fight us. We blow up their helicopter. When does it end?"

"When they surrender," Ofelia said confidently, and I envied it because why couldn't I think that way? Why did I have to be so soft?

I nodded, spacing out a little as I looked back to the well. She squeezed my shoulders slightly, comforting me.

"It won't always be like this," she promised. "We're getting close. They'll give it up eventually. And the cycle will end."

"I hope so," I muttered, before nudging her in the side. "Thanks, Ofelia."

She smiled. "You're welcome."

Barely a few days later, there was a commotion out front, and by the time I'd left the diner to see what was happening, my father was stood before Jake Otto himself and a stranger he'd brought along with him, probably another rancher. All guns were pointed their way and I grew curious to why Jake had shown up. Did he want to negotiate? Maybe there was a chance after all?

"Take them inside whilst I get cleaned up," my dad ordered, flicking his hand.

Some guards ushered Jake and the girl inside the diner as I exchanged glances with my dad, ignoring the bloody apron he wore, a consequence of him beheading a pig moments before.

"You're hearing him out?" I asked, trying to hide any hopefulness, but he knew me too well.

"Doesn't mean anything," he told me, giving me a knowing look. "But we shall hear what he has to say."

I tried to contain my curiosity and eagerness as I nodded. After waiting for him to clean himself up, we both went to the diner and took a seat at the booth opposite Jake and the mystery girl. It was quiet at first, Jake and my father eyeing each other up. Then his eyes met mine and he nodded slightly in acknowledgement, to which I returned. We'd spoken a few times on occasion, but that was in the old world.

The mystery girl beside him also looked between my father and I, though with a hardened stare as if she'd already made her mind up about us. It could have been laughable considering she didn't know us, but I was too eager to hear what their proposal was to care.

"My father will never abandon the ranch," Jake started calmly, meeting my dad's eyes. "You know that."

Without faltering, my dad answered, "Then we'll feed him to the crows like Phil McCarthy." I tried not to cringe as I recalled said rancher being left to be pecked away by crows when he trespassed on our land. "Then Russell Brown and Vernon Trimbol."

Those named were all shared founders of Broke Jaw Ranch, and the number one reason we could never have our land returned to us. My father harboured enough hatred for them for all of us, and I didn't blame him, even if he sometimes let it dictate his actions.

"Russell's dead," Jake informed us. "The adobe burned."

A little pleased, my dad said, "That karma's overdue, but welcomed."

"Vernon Trimbol's dead, too," the mystery girl spoke, eyeing my father curiously.

"I hope it was a long and... painful illness," my dad said without any remorse.

"He died with his family," the girl continued, almost challengingly. "His wife, his daughter. You killed them."

I furrowed my brows, eyes studying the brunette and her absurd accusation. But before I could even think to defend my father, he spoke calmly to Jake.

"Is this girl speaking for you?"

The girl and Jake exchanged glances before Jake ignored my father's question and instead pleaded, "We need the violence to stop."

"Soon will, Jake," my dad answered nonchalantly, before raising three fingers in the air. "Three down, one to go."

"My father never did anything to you or your people–" Jake began, but this seemed to irritate my dad.

"Tell me, junior," he interrupted, "do the lies turn your stomach? Do you taste the bile in the back of your throat?"

"State police investigated this," Jake explained, "they found no correlation between–"

"Stop–" my father banged his hand on the table with frustration, "–talking. You're boring me, like you did in court. Those days are dead."

"I thought we had an understanding, even outside of court," Jake tried again, and I could see why my father was growing more angry, despite holding it in.

"I understood," my father reminded him. "When you came here with your drunk friends, I was to serve them their food with a smile on my face. Tolerate their slurs. Clean up their vomit in the toilet, and thank them for their pocket change tips."

I swallowed hard, the memories of those days returning to mind as he mentioned them. Nobody wanted to see their family belittled, but that's exactly what we had to endure from Jake's family. The peace we wanted was looking farther and farther out of reach.

"The days of the white man's courts are over," my dad told him. "Land grabs, desecrations... over. Now you have our verdict. The first humans' verdict. You must vacate our lands."

It fell quiet as Jake stared at my father, trying to read his expression. Would he finally give in? Could this be it?

"I was hoping for a parley," Jake said instead, and I should have known it was too good to be true. "A chance to negotiate and to avoid more loss."

I glanced at my dad, seeing him stuck in thought as he digested Jake's words. But this was exactly what I was after this whole time and we couldn't just let it slip by.

"Let's do it," I spoke up for the first time, earning everyone's attention.

"Y/N–"

"No, I'm serious," I cut my dad off as he tried to make me reconsider, no doubt. "A parley is good. It's what we all need. To stop the killing. To stop the cycle."

"Exactly," the mystery girl agreed, and I glanced at her with both gratitude and curiosity.

My dad paused, studying my expression, and I communicated my hope for this all I could with just my eyes. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.

"Maybe you're right," he finally gave in, responding to Jake's offer. "If a parley can spare blood... we can talk about it. After we eat."

Just on cue, Ofelia approached our booth with a tray of freshly prepared food, setting it down before us.

After sharing an awkwardly quiet meal with Jake and his newly introduced rancher friend, Alicia, the latter excused herself to chat with Ofelia outside. I watched them leave, wondering who exactly Alicia was and how she knew Ofelia, but my attention was returned to Jake and my dad as they discussed the terms of the parley.

One of our people were to be exchanged with one of theirs as a hostage – in this case, Jake – to earn each other's trust and respect the temporary ceasefire. I was familiar with this method and even ready to offer myself up, but as soon as I brought it up to my dad once Jake left the room, I was immediately shut down.

"I'm not sending you," he said in that annoyingly calm but stern voice he pulled out on his subordinates. "I've already decided it's Ofelia."

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. "Dad, c'mon. I'm the right person for this! You know peace is all I've been preaching! I can do this, just let me! Let me be useful!"

"You are useful," he told me. "Here."

"Dad–!"

"End of discussion!" he silenced me, before closing his eyes with annoyance. "You're not going over there. Ofelia knows what she's doing. She's older."

"So, what? I'm a kid all of a sudden?" I asked rhetorically. "We both know I stopped being a kid a long time ago. Back when–"

"Don't say it," he warned me, and the hurt returned to his eyes momentarily. "Please, Y/N. Just respect my decision."

I clenched my jaw, frowning. I couldn't argue this with him, I knew it. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't hurt him, so I nodded reluctantly and left it at that.

"Good," he said with relief. "C'mon."

We joined the others outside, where Ofelia and Alicia seemed to finish up their conversation. My dad nodded to Ofelia, who approached us, seeming to know what was going to happen. After discussing the parley with her, we waited for Jake to be ready, but he seemed to be bickering quietly with Alicia on the sidelines.

"Do we have a parley or not?" my father asked impatiently, interrupting their fight.

Jake gave Alicia a disapproving stare, but nodded. "It appears we do. Alicia will be staying."

My father nodded and motioned for Jake to follow him for a moment. This was the perfect chance for me to speak to Ofelia.

"You know them?" I asked her quietly, away from prying ears.

"Only Alicia," she answered truthfully. "Remember when I told you about that family who helped me? The Clarks?" I nodded and she continued, "That's Alicia, the daughter."

I was surprised to say the least, glancing over at the brunette in question. "Small world."

"Uh-huh..."

"From what you told me about them, about her, it doesn't sound like they're like the Ottos," I said with confusion. "Why is she helping them?"

Ofelia frowned, looking down at her shoes. "We killed Travis, her family. He was in the helicopter when we shot it down."

I sighed, glancing out at the Clark girl who was standing with her arms crossed, looking like she was holding in a restrained anger. It made sense now, why she was so frustrated back there.

"It wasn't right," I said quietly, looking back to Ofelia, "but dad's stubborn. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone but the Ottos."

"Well, Alicia won't let that go," Ofelia said knowingly. "Not right now."

"But she's staying for the parley, so that's gotta be a good thing, right?" I asked somewhat hopefully.

Ofelia nodded. "She's levelheaded. Smart. She wants the same as you, Y/N. Peace. She won't wreck this, if that's what you're worried about."

I hummed in acknowledgment, studying Alicia once more, wondering if she was all of these things Ofelia was saying and more. If this was the same girl who took Ofelia and her family in when they needed help, the same girl who cared for strangers as if they were her own, then maybe all wasn't doomed.

"I have to go," Ofelia suddenly said, eyes glancing behind me at Jake and my father.

I nodded, pulling her in for a quick hug. "Be careful over there. They aren't all like your friend."

Ofelia snickered quietly. "I know." Then she met my eyes one last time, nodding in Alicia's direction. "Look out for her, yeah? She's good."

I nodded, if not for the stranger, then for Ofelia. "I promise."

Shortly after Ofelia left with Jake and a scout, I found myself washing up some dishes in the diner kitchen as usual. My dad was showing Alicia around the place, but I didn't expect him to turn up in the kitchen with her in tow, leaving her to me.

"Y/N," he called, and I shut off the tap, turning around and surprised to see to them. "Alicia is going to be sticking with you during her time here, helping around as much as she can. Is that alright?"

I raised my eyebrows slightly, glancing at the deadpan expression of the girl in question before meeting my father's eyes questioningly. Why me? There were so many other people he could have left her with. And besides, I thought he didn't trust my instincts when it came to stuff like this.

Obviously, I couldn't argue that with him in front of her, so I simply nodded.

"Sure," I said awkwardly, before meeting the green eyes already fixed on me. "You can help me finish the washing up, I guess."

"Thank you," my dad said gratefully, before leaving the two of us alone.

"Nice to meet you," I greeted her. "I'm Y/N."

"Walker's daughter, right?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, before turning to face the sink as she joined my side. Swallowing uncomfortably, I felt the need to glance at her and say, "I'm sorry. About your– about Travis."

She furrowed her brows. "How do you know that? How– how can you even say that? It was your father's orders that killed him."

She wasn't shouting, but the anger in her voice was still present, only making me feel guilty because she wasn't wrong.

"Ofelia told me," I answered. "And I didn't want that to happen. I told my dad not to shoot the heli down, but his hatred for the Ottos runs deeper than anything else. Even me, sometimes."

She clenched her jaw, looking down at the sink, and I almost regretted bringing it up in the first place.

"What do you want me to do?" she changed the subject.

Knowing I couldn't do much about her dismissiveness, I nodded to the sink. "Start washing, I guess."

Between the two of us, we finished washing all the dishes and pans in no time, an uncomfortable silence filling the air, then I wiped my hands and spoke.

"I'm gonna go pick some vegetables from the field, if you wanna join."

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, neither bitter nor indifferent, but it still rubbed me the wrong way.

"Look, you might not like this, but this exchange is the only way to ensure peace. If this works, maybe things can finally be okay."

She quirked a brow curiously. "And you want that?"

"What?"

"Peace?"

I looked to her with confusion. "Why wouldn't I?" She rose an eyebrow judgementally, so I asked, "Do you?"

Her eyes flickered between mine, giving nothing away. "Of course. I want to be safe. I want to keep my family safe."

"So do I," I said gently.

"Then we're in agreement," she noticed.

I sighed quietly, already leading her out the kitchen. "If only it were that easy."

She mumbled in agreement as she followed me to the vegetable patch, the both of us holding a basket to collect our pickings in. Again, it was quiet between us, something I presumed would remain considering we were still 'enemies', but it didn't last long as she spoke up.

"Will this really work?" she asked from beside me.

I paused, glancing at her as she worked. "Well, if we leave them out any longer, the sun's gonna fry them and then they won't be very edible any–"

"Not this," she stopped me, giving me a disapproving look. "The parley."

"Oh." I cleared my throat, continuing to pick the chillies from the plant. "Hopefully, yeah. If your people treat Ofelia with respect–"

"They aren't my people," she interrupted firmly.

As if she wasn't a mystery already.

"Okay...," I said slowly. "Well, if the ranchers treat Ofelia with respect, a relationship of sorts can form between us and them, opening everything up to negotiation."

"And if they don't?" Alicia asked.

I gave her a questioning look. "Won't they?" When she didn't answer, I grew worried. "Alicia, is Ofelia in danger there?"

"No, no she's not," she assured me when she saw my expression. "Not with Jake. He'll keep her safe."

Feeling warm under the sun, I used my sleeve to wipe at my face and sighed. "Jake is patient, much easier to talk to than his family, but it's not enough."

"Your father isn't very patient," Alicia commented.

I smiled dryly. "My people have been patient for centuries. More than you could know, Alicia."

"I'm not going to pretend to understand what the history of the ranch means to you and your people," she said earnestly, "but I'm hoping we can find a peaceful resolution. That's why I'm here, Y/N."

I nodded, meeting her gaze. For some stupid reason, I wanted to believe her. I think I might have. She seemed different to the others, maybe because of everything Ofelia had told me of her. I wasn't sure, but I truly hoped she wouldn't disappoint.

Unfortunately for everyone, the parley didn't last long and I still wasn't sure if it was slightly my fault. Maybe if I'd kept a closer eye on Alicia, they wouldn't have smuggled her out of there? Or maybe it was inevitable.

I wasn't sure. All I knew was one second I was telling her to get some water from the well and the next there was the sound of shooting coming from outside, along with a mini ambush of ranchers. By the time I'd grabbed a gun and made it outside, they were already driving away, a glimpse of Alicia in the backseat of their truck. And to make things worse, a few of our people were either injured or shot dead.

It angered me, but mostly I felt disappointment at the fact that we'd come full circle yet again. Alicia had seemed different earlier today, like she actually wanted this to work. So, why had she broken out of here, hurting my people in the process?

My fault for believing her, I suppose.

Of course, this didn't bode well with my dad, and understandably so. However, I certainly didn't expect him to send Ofelia undercover there, under the guise that she'd been thrown out, when in fact she was there solely to poison their militia with anthrax. As soon as she returned, that was when I found out. I worried about what was going on with her, since I didn't even know she'd left, but she was distracted.

"Ofelia, what the hell happened?" I asked worriedly, upon seeing her battered and bruised face. "Where have you been?!"

"The ranch," she answered angrily, though it wasn't directed at me. "I was supposed to make them sick. But he didn't tell me– it was fucking anthrax!"

"What are you talking about?" I said with confusion, trying to meet her flickering gaze. "Why were you at the ranch? What anthrax?"

And that's when she explained the plan, conducted by none other than my father. Except the catch was that it wasn't a little something to just weaken their militia, it was anthrax poisoning to kill as many of them as possible, and Ofelia didn't know until it was too late.

"Alicia didn't want to mess up this parley," she continued to explain. "Her mother used Troy to get her back because she was scared for her. It wasn't her fault. She still wants peace."

At this newfound information, I was surprised and also a little relieved because, stupidly enough, I still believed there was hope.

"And now her brother, Nick, is sick because of the anthrax," Ofelia finished guiltily. "And it's my fault."

I frowned, shaking my head. "It's not. You didn't know. He should've told you."

Not in the mood for my sympathy, Ofelia shrugged me off and walked away to be alone. And I only grew more frustrated at my father, ashamed at his manipulating tactics amongst his own people, all because of a vendetta.

Storming over to him in the greenhouse, I tried to keep myself calm, but it only irked me more when he tried to pretend everything was okay.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

Squeezing my fists together, I stared at him with disbelief. "Seriously? Am I okay?!"

Confused, he blinked. "Is that a no?"

"You lied to Ofelia about the anthrax!"

He sighed, like this was all a mild inconvenience. "I didn't want to. But it needed to be done. Someone had to weaken their militia."

"You don't get it, do you?" I asked with a glare. "This will never end. They killed our people. You poisoned theirs. They'll just keep coming back. It's a never ending cycle!"

"And I'll keep it going if it means getting justice for our people!" he finally snapped. "If it means protecting our home, taking back our land, then yes, I will keep going!"

I unclenched my jaw, exhausted already. "Wow. I hate to say it, dad, but maybe this just isn't worth it anymore. Maybe the ranch isn't worth it."

He frowned with frustration, about to retaliate and berate me no doubt, but our argument was conveniently interrupted by the sound of shouting in the distance. The two of us ran out to see what the commotion was, only to see some of our tipis on fire, along with ranchers driving around and shooting around.

"Defence, now!" my father ordered, and I immediately ran to grab the nearest gun before taking cover.

It wouldn't have made a difference though, as soon enough, a pickup truck belonging to the ranchers began to drive away with our reliquary in tow, one that contained many of our ancestor's belongings in one place. The only rancher who knew of its existence was Alicia, considering my father had shown it to her when she was here. Which only meant one thing.

She'd told them to steal it.

As predicted, this war was a constant back and forth and my dad was only seeking revenge, as usual. Once the ranchers had stolen our reliquary, they used it to try and negotiate peace with my father. But he was so angry that he declined and threatened them, giving them until nightfall to vacate the ranch. Instead, Alicia's mother, Madison Clark, did one even better. She offered us up Jeremiah Otto's head.

And that was how we negotiated a peace deal, where we could finally move back onto our own land, though sharing it with the ranchers.

It wasn't ideal, but if it meant no more bloodshed, and also no more Jeremiah, then my father was more than happy to accept. So, a handful of us began moving in.

Most of the ranchers seemed to accept it, but I couldn't personally be sure. I tried not to focus on that though, nor the clear divide between our people. Instead, I did what I did best. Gardening.

I was taking stock in the vegetable patches to see what was growing and what else could be planted when I heard someone approaching behind me. To my surprise, it was Alicia.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

I nodded awkwardly before returning my attention to the clipboard in hand. We hadn't properly spoken since the parley was broken, so I wasn't so sure where we stood with one another.

"So, it worked," she tried to make conversation, referring to the peace deal.

"Barely," I mumbled.

It went quiet, and if it weren't for the fact that her footsteps weren't heard, I could have believed she'd left.

"I didn't know they were going to come for me," she suddenly said, a hint of guilt in her voice. "My mother was worried."

I shrugged halfheartedly, but she felt the need to justify it, as if she cared what I thought.

"I didn't want more people to die."

Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet hers. "Nobody ever does. But when it's my people, it's just collateral, right?"

Her lips curved into a slight frown as she shook her head, and I really wanted to believe her. Desperately. Because she seemed genuine, and if she was, then this wouldn't be for nothing.

"Jeremiah is gone now," she reminded me. "This can be a fresh start."

I pressed my lips together, lowering my clipboard. "I know that. You know that. But what about the ranchers? His followers?"

"Most of them only want peace," she tried to reassure me. "They'll follow anyone who gives them a sense of safety."

I suppressed the urge to scoff. "I hope so."

"The only way to show them that is to be unified," she added.

I quirked a brow. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Work with me, not against me. Side by side. If our people see us working together, maybe they'll realise it's not a bad thing."

I exhaled quietly, impressed at her thinking. "That's a good idea." She nodded gratefully, and I continued, "But why? Why would you care? And why us?"

She ran a hand through her hair as she explained patiently, "I've already told you that I only want to keep my family safe, same as you. So, why not work together in that? You're the daughter of the leader of those the ranchers are learning to trust. They see you working with us, they'll ease up. I just know it."

It made sense what she was saying, and she'd never done anything to give me reason to distrust her. Best case scenario, we could truly establish peace. Worst case scenario, we didn't become friends. I couldn't see much to lose, so I gave in with a nod.

"Okay. I guess you're right, Alicia."

She began to smile, both hopeful and relieved. "Great. Maybe we can start with me giving you a rundown on what we're growing?"

I sighed, returning her smile, and it felt good to have a reason to smile again. "I– yeah. That would be super helpful actually."

[seravphs]

(青春) —

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

There is before-Getou and after-Getou. In both spaces, Gojo exists.

wc — 3.1k

tags — the gradual but inexorable realization that your youth is lost to you, possessive Gojo, so hard to write Gojo and Getou together without making it a little ménage a trois, eldest daughter coded reader trying to pick up the pieces Getou left behind, missing your childhood innocence that can never return, blurry lines, unreliable adults, mild Getou x reader, title from The Belladonna of Sadness by Sally Wen Mao 

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The road to Jujutsu High is littered with the fallen cherry blossoms. Gojo kicks at the large snow banks of pink flowers, letting them land in drifts marking your progression across campus. He complains incessantly of the pollen, the bees, and whatever else he finds it in his heart to complain about. Petals rain from the sky over your head. 

Spring arrives with the new students on campus. You’re the first, because Gojo insisted on arriving early. He wants to assert his superiority over his classmates by knowing the layout of the land before they can, though you’re sure possessing the Six Eyes would’ve worked just as well in that capacity. Lady Gojo, as always, does not challenge her son. He leaves the day he says he will. 

Before you go, she takes you aside. There is an almost saintly quality to her beauty, as if something about her is not of this world. Her white hair sweeps over her shoulder, tracing the delicate curve of her neck. 

Her son is undeniably of her blood. They share the same pale coloring, as if a photograph had been bleached to a true negative. Only a woman like her could have given birth to a son like him. 

When she places her hands over yours, it’s hard not to pull back, feeling unworthy. Even having known Lady Gojo for most of your life, it’s often difficult to shake the overwhelming feeling of respect you have for her. She asks you to look after him in her stead. 

There’s only one answer you can give. 

“Good girl,” she says, pressing her lips to your brow like a blessing. This close, you can smell the camellia oil in her silky hair. Loose strands brush against your face, and then she pulls back. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Another student is there when you arrive. 

“What the fuck,” Gojo says. “It’s a week before the semester starts. Why is he here?”

“You’re here,” you pointedly remind him. 

He blows you off. “That’s different.” 

Getou Suguru got special permission from Principal Yaga to join Jujutsu High two weeks early. As the only student from a non-sorcerer family, Yaga wanted to help him get acclimated before class started. Gojo seethes in rage, especially when Getou tries to help you move your things into your new dorm in the other building. 

“Hands off,” he slaps Getou’s hands away from your suitcase. “She’s mine.” 

“You can’t own a person,” Getou says, mildly annoyed. 

He’s trying to play nice, feeling out the intricacies of completely new faces in a new setting. You wish you could tell him he doesn’t need to bother. Gojo will always be Gojo, no matter where he is. 

He’s only mildly more bearable the next day, as the final student arrives just on the cusp of being late. 

“A reverse cursed technique user?” Gojo’s practically shivering with excitement. “Cool! I wanna do that!” 

Yaga smacks his desk with his ruler for attention. “And you will, if you can manage to pay attention during class.” 

You’re surprised you’re even using the classrooms at all. They might be useful for theory, but in truth, everyone knew Jujutsu was best learned through experience. It really wasn’t learned at all, but earned through being on the field. 

Yaga doesn’t seem to think so. 

“Boring,” Gojo interrupts halfway through his lecture. “I learned all of this already with my tutors when I was eight! When do we get to the good stuff?” 

Getou scoffs. “Not all of us have tutors, asshole.” 

“Yeah?” Gojo says. He pushes his sunglasses up so they rest on his head. 

Yaga takes a quick survey of the classroom. You already know what he’s going to do before he does it. 

“Getou, move to the seat next to you. And you,” he points at you. “Sit in his seat, please.” 

“We don’t need-“ Getou starts. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “Do it. Now.” 

You’re almost impressed as you take your new seat. Part of dealing with Gojo is knowing when to pick your battles. It seems Yaga has already picked up on that. 

“Hey,” Gojo says, grinning at you. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” 

Shoko, who has been quiet up until now, makes a soft gagging noise from the other side of Getou. On the very first day of class, the relationships between the four of you have already been solidified. 

Despite their rocky start, Getou and Gojo seek each other out like they’ve been magnetized to each other. They play terribly off each other, goading the other on. 

“Bet you I can take out more cursed users-“

“Bet you I can take down the curse faster-“

Gojo has never had a challenge like him in all of his fifteen years of life. For all their bickering, they take to each other quickly. A little too quickly. They’re attached at the hip before long, which means Getou’s also attached to you. 

“Psst,” Gojo hisses. His breath is fogging up the window you just cleaned. “Open up! Hurry!” 

You check the clock. It’s past curfew, and the sun has long since set. His hair glows radiantly against the backdrop of the dark sky. Weak to him as always, you push the window open. 

“What are you doing?” 

He’s already clambering in without an invitation, knowing you won’t refuse him. The consequences of growing up together means you can speak a language that doesn’t need words, a poetic way of saying Gojo is used to being spoiled by you. 

“What are you waiting for?” He throws over his shoulder, his leg straddling the windowsill and his torso halfway inside your room. For a second, you’re worried he’ll be stuck. He hit a growth spurt last year and hasn’t stopped since. “Are you coming or not?” 

“You didn’t say we were going to her room,” Getou attempts to and fails at hiding the blush on his face. “We can’t be in a girl’s room!” 

“Don’t be a prude,” Gojo shoots back.

Getou hesitates, looking at you. You extend your hand to pull him through. He takes it. 

Gojo makes himself comfortable as always, ransacking the little box of snacks you keep above the mini fridge. Getou smacks his hands away, trying to discipline him. It’s no use. Gojo’s manners are something his mother despairs at. 

Finally satisfied with his pick, Gojo sprawls out on the floor, every single inch taking up as much space as possible. With no room left for Getou, you pat the bed to offer him a seat next to you. 

“Where’s Shoko?” You frown. “You invited her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gojo waves you off. “I knew you’d be pissed if I didn’t. She said she doesn’t want to hang out. Probably asleep by now.” 

He looks up at the two of you through his eyelashes, his eyes half shut. There’s something charmingly open about his expression right now, sweet and boyish. The lamplight casts dancing shadows across his face, making the moment feel ephemeral, though it’s just another night that Gojo has snuck into your room. 

He has a way of making all time spent with him feel significant, seared into your memory like it’ll be taken out of its treasure chest and lovingly pored over later. Perhaps it will. He’s an important man - these moments may be like family heirlooms in the future, the good old days when grandma was best friends with the Legendary Gojo Satoru. Maybe your grandchildren will beg you for stories of him. You’ll tell them about how he was talented, brave, and above all, reckless. 

He’s beholden to no authority, and beyond willing to prove it. It’s a thorn in the elders’ sides. 

“The elders are pressuring Yaga to ask me to take a special grade mission,” he says. 

Getou jolts. “That’s confidential.” 

Gojo rolls his eyes at him. “Come on, everyone knew I was going to tell her. Do you want me to?” 

The last part is directed at you. Carefully, you turn the question over in your head. Gojo is offering you the choice, letting you balance and discard lives. Right now, the elders only have one special grade, Tsukumo Yuki, and she’s fond of going rogue after missions. Maybe it’s just a special grade thing, to be a loose cannon. It would be helpful to have another special grade willing to step up, but- 

“Tell him no. You’re just a first-year,” you say. 

“I want to go. I’m good enough.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“Will you give me a reward if I don’t?” 

Getou interrupts the beginning of your answer. “It’s fine, I’ll go with him. It’ll be okay if it’s the both of us.” 

“You’re a first-year, too. Don’t go, Gojo. I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll talk to Yaga for you.” 

As if his name summons him, there’s a loud thump on the door. 

“Hey!” Yaga has a bad habit of knocking so hard it startles you. “Are those men’s voices I hear? No boys in the girls’ dorms!”

You freeze. You hate lying because you’re horrible at it. Gojo mouths at you furiously, ‘Just lie! Make something up!’ 

“No,” you say, too shakily. It’s so obvious. “Just watching TV!” 

“Hmph,” Yaga grumbles, but his footsteps fade away. 

Years later, you’ll realize that Yaga could’ve checked the boys’ rooms if he was really suspicious and wanted to separate you three. Your heart squeezes, as it always does in the future, thinking of these quieter times. It was nice to be so young and untouchable. 

Yaga’s visit kills all future conversation, and Gojo is yawning, anyway. You know you can convince him to listen to you, so you let it go. Getou wakes both of you up the next morning. It’s a particularly brutal day to practice - Tsukumo’s back, which means she wants to have a personal hand in training the “baby special grades,” as she calls them. 

You’re waiting for Gojo to finish his private training session on the porch when Getou joins you. He’s drinking green tea out of a reusable bottle. In his other hand, he has a can of soda for you. It’s so cold it sweats condensation even in the barely there warmth of spring. 

“Thanks,” you take it gratefully. 

“Done already?”

“Waiting for Gojo.” 

“Why are you so obsessed with him anyways?” He regrets his words immediately after he says it. “Is that rude? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be.” 

You take another gulp of the drink so you can think about his question. It’s so cold your teeth hurt. “I promised his mother I would take care of him.” 

“But you’re the same age as him. And not as- You’re-“ 

“Not as strong as he is,” you supply, without anger. 

“I didn’t want to say it.” 

“There are different types of strength,” you say, brushing off your clothes as you stand up. Both Gojo and Getou are growing like bean sprouts. The shoulder of his jacket stretches dangerously taut, one of the threads fraying. You reach out and snap it off for him. 

“Besides, this is just how it’s always been. Gojo needs a little extra spoiling, and I’ve always been happy to provide it.” 

“And if I need spoiling too?” He says, half-joking. 

You reach up to pat his head, causing him to freeze. “Sure. I can spare you some.” 

“What are you two doing?” Gojo’s voice is like a whip as he strides towards you. 

You pull your hand back instantly and hide it behind your back. For some reason, you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. 

“There was something in my hair,” Getou says smoothly. 

Gojo pulls him towards him by the cuffs of his sleeves. He pats Getou’s hair down himself, as if for confirmation. “Huh. Guess she got all of it. You guys hungry? I’m starved! Let’s get dinner.” 

“Wait for Shoko,” you reprimand him. “She’s still in training.” 

“But I’m so hungry!” 

“It’s just 5 minutes. Come sit by me,” you say. 

He whines and moans about it, but he does come to you, laying his head on your lap. The weight of him is soothing and familiar, the heat of him felt through the thin fabric of your skirt. You press a teasing finger to his cheek and feel the whistle of air as he snaps his teeth at you playfully. 

“You too, Getou,” you say. “We can all wait together.” 

“She’s taking so long,” Gojo complains. You pat him absentmindedly on the head to shush him. 

“You’ll be grateful when she’s healing your dumb ass,” Getou tells him. 

“Me?” Gojo scoffs. “As if I’m ever going to need healing.” 

Your first year passes uneventfully, as slow and syrupy as the jam Gojo eats by the spoonful for breakfast. Gojo still sneaks over occasionally for sleepovers, bringing Getou or Shoko or both. Sometimes you all sneak out together to town. 

You continue learning theory and refining your technique. Shoko lies about her age and receives a deferred medical school offer. Gojo and Getou are strong enough to go on missions already, taking everything up to grade 1. 

Even during these halcyon days, as if you know what’s coming, your heart is filled with longing. You miss the moment even as you’re living in it, wishing that your first year at Jujutsu Tech would never end. It’s nice to be so peaceful. Though you’re all training to become sorcerers, it doesn’t feel real yet. You cling to each day as summer starts to approach, robbing you of what little is left of your first year. 

Spring comes and goes, leaving you with nothing but wistfulness. You can’t help feeling that these are the days you will miss when you graduate, these moments you can never experience again. 

It’s bittersweet, the joy of having something for the first time. If you could, you would give yourself temporary amnesia so you could meet every moment anew. 

 Instead, the uncompromising march of time remains indifferent to your silent prayers. The second day of your second year, Getou asks you to meet him behind the main campus. 

“Let’s take a walk through the woods,” he says. 

“That’s how good girls get murdered,” you joke, though you follow him anyway. 

“You think I would hurt you?” 

You gasp, tripping over a root you didn’t expect. He turns around and lunges for you just as you trip backwards, trying to catch you before you can fall. He grabs your shoulders right when you grin and reveal that you were just fine the whole time. 

“No,” you say, only cheered on by his exasperation. “I don’t think you would.” 

He makes an annoyed sound, and you realize for the first time exactly how close he is to you. He notices simultaneously. Suddenly the awareness that the two of you are just inches apart dawns on both of you. His breath hitches. His kiss tastes like the green tea he drinks to get rid of the aftertaste of curses. 

You touch your fingertips to your lips wonderingly as he pulls back. His face is dark with an emotion you can’t identify, something that you don’t think you can call love. He shivers when you press those same fingertips to his lips, your touch burning him through. 

You draw back instantly, aware you’ve crossed a line. 

“Oh, Getou.” 

“You don’t have to say anything.” For this boy from the villages, the strongest but still not Gojo, pity is unbearable. He doles it out to others like a benevolent saint. To receive it feels wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be. I know. It’s Gojo, isn’t it?” 

“Not like that,” you try, though you know you’ll never be able to explain the complicated relationship between you and Gojo. Some day he’ll get married. Perhaps he’ll leave you behind, or perhaps you’ll have to explain to some poor girl why there’s an automatic third in her relationship. You just come with the territory, a package deal. 2-for-1 is always just a way to sell a sucker something they don’t want. 

“I know,” Getou says. “Do you ever think of doing anything for yourself?” 

That’s an interesting question. You thought about it all the time when you were younger and resentful of babysitting, but you’ve long since grown used to your role, like a tree pruned into the right shape. 

“Not really.” 

Getou’s words are said thoughtlessly, just the musings of a boy who wants to understand why. They take root in your heart and become something else. The leash slackens, little by little. 

Spring of second-year is much like first-year. For all you worried, little has changed. 

There’s only one major difference. 

Gojo and Getou take their first special-grade mission. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You’re annoyed, and surprised by exactly how annoyed you really are. For everyone else’s bad temper with Gojo, you have the patience of a saint when it comes to him. It helps that he gives you more than he gives anyone else, too, except times like these. 

He looks askance. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” 

Gojo goes. You can’t stop him. You don’t have the right to when he’s more than capable of it. He’s the strongest, after all. Technically, he should’ve been doing field work long before. He’s the most valuable asset the sorcerers have. 

Once you’ve uncaged him, Gojo rampages. He comes back within a day, predictably victorious, brutally so. This only solidifies his understanding of himself as the god of this cursed world. He can’t help but push himself even more, trying to find the seemingly limitless boundary of his power. 

When he’s given the Star Plasma Vessel mission, he doesn’t turn it down. Getou follows him. 

Everyone seems to be walking their own paths. As Gojo and Getou keep exploring the limits of their own strength on missions, Shoko spends her days in the morgue. Eventually, you too find something to pass your time. 

Yaga recruits you as an assistant. Most days, this means paperwork and making tea, though occasionally it gives you glimpses into the bureaucracy of the Jujutsu world. Shoko thinks it’s boring, banning you from talking about it on your lunch dates. You don’t mind - you’d hate being idle more. 

Though it’s normally unexciting in Yaga’s office, you notice the mood immediately when you walk in. Yaga’s leaning back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, almost like he’s trying to stop a nosebleed. He looks like he’s about to cry. You’ve never seen your principal like this, and it alarms you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Gojo says. “I fixed it.” 

Turning around, you see his hair first. Gojo’s bone white hair, so like his mother’s, is matted with dark red blood. It drips into his eye and leaves rust colored stains across his cheek, the collar of his shirt, and his jacket. His eyes are manic. 

You should’ve gone with them.

(夏) — 

[shoezuki]

Theresbeen many a drunk headcanon and they be fun and funky but it got me thinking bout clumsiness outside of bein drunk.

Gepard seems very sure-footed. He's the captain of the guard, always leading, never showing hesitation lest it brings nerves upon his troops. I don't think he's some sorta balance god but I do think he's a steady guy that isn't really bumping into anything.

Sampo gives off cat vibes to me, I can imagine him scuttling up a wall jus to tiptoe across its top as if it was nothing. He's doin lil hops and skips just to show off a little. Whilst Geppie is strong in his stance and motion, Sampo is graceful but not really in a delicate way? He's got the smugness of a cat but his grace is more akin to an elk. It's got weight behind it but you can tell he's not fallin anytime soon.

But I like to think he's extremely used to having everything mapped out. He has places for everything and whilst it doesn't at all look neat, he knows exactly where everything is.

His coffee table is always crooked but he simply bends out of the way as he walks past, head in a stack of documents. There's stuff all over the floor but he's tiptoeing between them without hesitation. He has cabinets full of anything and everything, look in them and god knows what his file sorting system is but you ask for something specific and he makes a beeline for the bottom left drawer, stuffs his hand to the back and pulls it out instantly.

With Gep, he's also orderly. He knows where everything is but because it's neat. Even his pens are organised by colour and use. He's not a neat-freak, he's just grown up to always put things back where he found it when he's done and having shared sleepin spaces for so long with fellow soldiers, knows that keeping everything in its place makes things less stressful.

He knows better than to mess with Sampo's files or move any of his 'work' stuff but he's defo moving tidbits off the floor and pushing furniture back against the wall. Like, why is the sofa in the middle of the room??? How does someone do that in the first place???

So now Sampo, as aware and confident as he is, is now tripping over everything. He's knocked his shin on the coffee table 3 times in one day. He's stubbed his toe on the sofa and fully fallen to the ground, he's gone to grab something off the floor (where it usually is) only to realise it's no longer there and just stand in the middle of the room, looking lost, staring into space for 5 minutes.

He feels like he's been invaded. Never had to shrug off Natasha's questioning so often when she comments on a new bruise or scrape. He's not even getting them on the field!!!! That stool was perfectly fine in front of the cupboard. That's where he liked it.

But like hell is he gonna tell Gepard that. He's tried to some extent but it's only led to long circle talk. After all, it's unsurprisingly hard to explain that you like your furniture layout to look like someone's lost a fight in your home and having things not in the way is mildly disturbing.

This was meant to be about clumsiness. They're gettin away from me again XD

~ 🥃

YesyesyesYES SBGDV god they both have like. Theyre own sense of order. Like gepard's is the most blatant. Hes got a Schedule ok he has an order to how he does things and when he does things and where stuff goes.

But sampo seems Chaotic. Like his things seem to be a mess and all disjointed and over the place but To Him he has like. A System. He has no fucking clue what that system is and can Not explain it whatsoever but hes got it. Sure its a mess and no one knows how he can possible operate like this and especially concerning his bomb making its crazy he hasnt blown himself up yet but it Works.

Them living together is Hilarious cuz if this. Like gepard needs things where theyre 'supposed' to be, while sampo shifts his things n environment according to Him. Mfers in a silent war cuz they keep moving shit back to where They think its sposed to be. Like sampo keeps shifting the coffee table to the left and at a bit of an angle so that he can rest his feet on it from the sofa but gep keeps moving it back cuz its Supposed To Be Exactly 2 feet from the sofa and Right in the middle of the fucking rug, sampo. Every late night sampo moves the dishes around seemingly randomly so that his favourite bowls and mugs are easily reachable while he cooks and every morning gepard gets up and reorganizes the cupboards by size and type of dish while he makes coffee.

Theyre engaging in domestic psychological warfare

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Pt 6 - And if I loved you any less, I’d be able to talk about it more

<<<prev

———

Crosshair x female reader

Content: making out under the pier and getting back together 😌

———

Crosshair set to try new things in the week building up to the harvest festival. The local citizens of Pabu got to know him more and he began to grow familiar with the layout of the land but more so with the idea of just getting to be as he was.

No where to run, no need to think of a strategy to escape and no need to bring to the fore front of his mind what he had to endure.

He stopped himself.

He never wanted to think of it again, Tantiss.

Crosshair swam up to the docks but lingered to look back at the rising sun, the water was pristine and the golden rays began to shimmer across the surface but as much as he tried to not think of you, he couldn’t.

If you were here, you would have commented about the way this daily occurrence holds the magic to be something new everyday, while he struggled with change of any sort.

But as he watched he began to understand your point of view, that you could love something and yet give it the space to evolve to only continue to love it nonetheless.

He waded his hand through the water which had now become laced with sunlight glitter as he had a moment to himself, hidden near the wooden piers, forgotten by his brothers and lost to the thoughts in his head but just as he had looked up to pull himself out of the water, he saw a shadow pass overhead.

He hid himself out of instinct and watched as a pair of tan legs sunk into the water. Now he gripped himself behind the column. He knew who it was instantly. His heart began to beat faster, one because he had somehow summoned you, second because now he couldn’t escape without being seen.

Crosshair composed himself, his tracker eyes craving to look at his target. He tilted his head, to catch a glimpse of your elegance and it brought him back to all the hidden moments he stole away when he was working with the empire.

Fool. His thoughts raged against him.

You had loved him through it all. Even when he was wrong.

His chest began to hurt, it physically made him ill to know how he had wronged you. How he was the first to pull away and now as the soft daylight danced across your skin, he wanted to vanish into the depths below.

He was a coward to ask for forgiveness.

You loved the sun even as it changed everyday while he looked away the very moment there was a slight inconvenience. He looked away from the one thing that kept him going.

All the peace he had from the swim had now vanished into a state of despair when,

“Crosshair?”, he heard your voice and he froze.

Everything became silent, the gentle waves, his roaring heart, all he felt was the warmth of the sun and the cold comfort of the water.

Peace, it had come back to him.

He turned to look at you, his eyes making contact with yours that time had now finally stopped.

“I didn’t know you were here.”, you looked embarrassed while he could not focus.

Your hair sticking across your face like strokes of paint across a canvas, your bare shoulder shimmering with the water’s touch, he was lucid dreaming and words were not being formed.

All his snarky comebacks died in the base of his throat, he wanted to pull you close so he gripped the piers instead.

He watched realisation settle on your face when it hit him on how he would have looked to you right this second.

“Sorry to have disturbed you.”, you raised your hands in defence.

“No.”, he said abruptly shaking his head softly and you stilled.

“No you didn’t.”, he waded towards you before his mind could tell him no.

You waited for him, unlike the Harvest festival where you bolted the moment you saw him.

A lot had happened that night. You knew Crosshair was not one to use his words for flattery or nonsense. He used it like every syllable was precious, he didn’t speak if there was no need to but his actions would always follow through.

Like how he was the first to notice your absence and find you at the pier.

How in the darkness, you felt his fingers find yours even though there was a rift between you both.

How he wanted to show you that your criticism of his lack of communication had been worked on and that he was trying in the ways he could.

“I was hoping to score a dance with you.”, he had said then, his hands waiting in yours for permission.

“You know I always reserve the first one for you.”, you responded and that was all he needed, to reel you in gently, his hand finding the curve of your waist effortlessly as though he had you memorised like his rifle.

He lead you in a dance that needed no music and you couldn’t help but be mesmerised at his quiet love. It was only for you to know and understand.

You drew closer to him, to lay your head on his chest as you swayed, he stopped.

Tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes were focused in the distance before he found your gaze.

“If I never confess my true feelings because of the fear it will be ripped away from me, then I let the Empire win.”, he said and it startled you. But he didn’t give you time to settle in as he continued.

His hands finding their way up to your shoulder as he bent down to level your gaze.

“So this is my defiance, my one true secret I have held on to for living hope, I am and have always been in love with you.”, he spoke those words like it was a part of him.

“Now you hold the one true weapon that even the Empire does not.”, he let go of your shoulders while his sagged with relief, his eyes searching yours fervently for your answer.

“Do with it what you will.”, he said softly as he opened his arms wide as though he was asking you to take a shot. And that if you did, it would be the end for him.

To him standing with his armour on to now with his skin revived by the sea, you had not given him an answer then. He walked away before you could. His silver hair had grown back for it to start to curl at the ends but now it was slicked back as he ran his hand through it.

The silence had stretched a second longer when he broke it.

“About what I said at the Harvest festival.”, he looked away unsure on what to say next.

You knew what he was going to do.

He had to think this through, if he could take back what he said in the chances of keeping you close, would he do it?

Were you going to run away again?

If he said he didn’t mean it or if it was a mistake, would he at least be able to salvage this friendship?

But before he could go and say something he didn’t mean.

You tugged him close to stop him from saying anything else by kissing him. It had been enough. This torturous distance. This was your answer.

He stilled, his arms were frozen, his eyes witnessing your act but yet unable to believe what he was seeing.

Your lips found his and everything in the world felt right. You ran your fingers up his neck to catch the ends of his hair, no answer you could have worded could convey what you felt as perfectly as this.

But it took lesser than a second for him to react, for his hands to find you and draw you closer as he took over and deepened the kiss like a man who had just returned from war.

The war of a lifetime where it was either his life or his sanity, but now, as he felt your breath cascade over his lips, he was restored.

Tantiss was a fever dream that he crawled out the pits of hell to now be embraced by the angel of his dreams. He dug his fingers into your waist as his desires could not be restrained any further. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips.

Your chest was pressed up against his as he angled your head to kiss the underside of your jaw. His lips travelling down your neck to the depths below as you gasped.

“If I ever mess this up again.”, he spoke as his lips hovered over your skin, you reached for his chin to tilt his face to you. He looked ethereal in this light as though he was asking for forgiveness.

“We’ll work through it together.”, you said firmly, as you drew his face closer to find his lips again, you had been denied of him long enough.

“If I ever run off again.”, you whispered, your eyes drowning in his.

“I’ll come find you.”, he replied, his voice dripping like honey as his lips tilted up.

“Now kiss me again.”, you demanded and his eyes turned heavy lidded as though he didn’t want any more distractions.

“How impatient.”, he said with sarcasm as his lips claimed yours again, the oceans waves drowning out his hungry moans as the deck above hid you from the public eye.

All was forgiven in love and Pabu.

—

Tags:

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @waytoooldforthis78

[sandy-the-glader]

George x reader (fem or gn you choose) so reader is the new neighbour, while they are talented too their parents didn’t make them work, got to go to college and have a somewhat normal life. However Lockwood & Co are the only people their age and they are lonely during summer so they decide to ask them if they want a hand (they are clueless on how agencies work) and Lockwood is so desperate with administration and/or stock deliveries he accepts. Reader starts working at Portland Row, never going on the field and while reader gets on well with Lucy and Lockwood, George is a bit more cold bc not only reader is treating this as a summer job, he resents reader for the opportunity of pursuing their studies and prob jealous of reader and their family next door. Too specific perhaps? Pick what you want but I need more George x reader 🫠🫠🫣

New assistant

Character: George Karim × Fem!Reader

Type: fluff, tad bit of angst

Length: 3.2k words

Summary: (Basically the request above!)

Trope: Girl Next Door/Grumpy x Sunshine (I'm sorry i love George and this trope)

A/n: LONG A/N omg don’t worry about the ask being too detailed it actually helps me out a lot because I can just fill in all the details and this was the easiest one to write out of all my requests so thank you I really adore it! I did change a few things so I hope that's okay. Enemies to Lovers oneshot coming out soon (hopefully) also I’m so sorry this came out late I’ve been slacking big time!! Also if you guys wanna request for Gilbert Blythe from Anne with an E I would love it

"Hi." I greeted. "I'm Y/n the new neighbor next door and I just wanted to introduce myself and ask you something." I pointed with my thumb to my left referencing my house.

"Oh hello. I briefly spoke with your father this morning." He recalled.

"I apologize if he isn't the most talkative. My mother is the chatty one." I cleared my throat. "You're Anthony Lockwood right?" He nodded.

"Most people just call me Lockwood but please come in." He moved to the side. I stepped inside and the layout basically mirrored our house. It was very cozy and homey.

The walls were littered with artifacts it was almost like a mini museum to look at. It was really extraordinary to see. There was also a little bench and an umbrella holder mainly with rapiers in it.

He lead me into the living area and it was just as cozy as the hallway I sat in one of the chairs and he briefly excused himself. I looked around the room keeping my eyes busy.

I sat patiently just waiting for Lockwood to return. I heard some clattering in the kitchen then he soon came back with a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry about that." He placed a tray of biscuits and tea in front of me. "I normally would have George do that part but he's out of the house at the moment."

"Oh, it's fine I really don't mind." I tried to calm his stressed mood. That's why I wanted the job. "So I overheard the other day that you needed an assistant? I was in need of a job so I was hoping I could help around here? Take some of the load off your guy's backs?" I asked nervously.

Since the houses were connected sometimes you could hear them talking in certain rooms. The other day is when I heard a male voice complain about needing more people and how there was never enough time for re-stocking salt bombs or preparing chains. I only knew so much about both items but I was sure willing to try.

"Ah yes, that would be perfect around here. We've all been working and we don't have time anymore for certain things." He chuckled. "Um, do you happen to have any talents? Just curious."

"Oh yes, I have touch and a bit of sight. I just never became an agent because I wanted to go to school." He nodded understanding the situation. "And my parents never forced it upon me. They always thought the business was too dangerous so..."

"Well frankly we really are desperate but you will get the same pay as George and Lucy. I want to thank you this will honestly be more help than you may think." I shook my head.

"It really is not a big deal I'm really in need of a summer job right now and this helps me too." Before I could elaborate the front door swung open and it revealed a pair arguing about something.

"No no no that's actually wrong!" The boy argued. I assumed that was George and the girl was Lucy.

"Please not in front of our guest." Lockwood gave them a desperate smile. "This is Y/n. She moved in last week." Lucy gave me a small smile and placed her bag by the entrance of the room. She walked over to me and shook my hand.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle. It's good to finally meet you." she looked at the other boy trying to tell him to introduce himself. He sighed as if I was causing him a problem.

"George Karim." He spoke before walking off.

"I'm sorry about him. He’s not good with new people." Lockwood apologized.

"It's okay! I understand." I let out a nervous chuckle.

The rest of the day was full of many things mainly the tour of the house/ where everything was located. It was a little nerve-wracking because I wanted to make a good impression and make sure I did the job right.

At the end of the day, Lockwood explained the times he wanted me here and when I could leave. Everything sounded good and maybe I would actually have a good summer this year.

As the sun started to dip down below the trees across from our houses, I quietly shut the door of Lockwood and Co easily slipping out of the house.

I pulled out the key and slid it into the lock. I opened the door and was hit with a pleasant aroma. Garlic, spices, it was some recipe I couldn't place.

"I'm home." I called out. I heard my dad in the kitchen and my mom was somewhere in the house. I filled up on tea and many biscuits over at the house so I wasn't exactly in the mood for something to eat. I slipped off my shoes and went up the stairs to my room.

-

Walking into 35 Portland Row the next day there was already chaos. Lockwood was running around searching for his tie, George was complaining about tea and Lucy was yelling about chains.

"Lockwood!" I got his attention and he slowed down a little bit. "I'll help you find your tie okay? What's happening what's the rush?"

"We have to talk about a case with a big company in 15 minutes, we woke up late and we were not prepared. They wanted to see our equipment and-"

"Hey. Again I'll find your tie, I'll pack up some salt bombs and flares. Slow down it's gonna be alright. You hired me so you wouldn’t be stressed.” He nodded and gulped lightly.

I made sure to stop by the kitchen first to see George in distress about how they somehow had absolutely no tea in the house.

“Hey you can go get ready I’ll be sure to pick up some tea later.” I proposed to George. He hummed as if not to care and walked out of the room. He has been so difficult already and I haven't even known him for 24 hours.

Lockwood’s tie was in the kitchen on one of the chairs. I snagged it and headed down to the storeroom. Lucy was a stressed mess going through chains and trying to go through flares at the same time. "Lucy." I interrupted her thoughts. "How about I sort and oil chains for you guys and I'll take care of the supplies. Go have a quick breakfast, George and Lockwood too.”

She sighed and briefly hugged me.

"Thank you."

"Yeah of course!" She quickly ran out of the storage room and I heard her head up the stairs.

There were many different types of flares to choose from, salt bombs too. I grabbed a few different kinds and placed three in a smaller bag down here obviously for missions.

I walked out of the storeroom and slung the bag of supplies over my shoulder to carry upstairs. Lockwood had been pacing in the kitchen and Lucy had a piece of toast in her hand. Not sure where George had wandered off to but I was nervous for them all to be on time.

“Tie and supplies.” I handed both things to Lockwood and a wave of relief washed over him.

“Thank you Y/n truly you’re a lifesaver.” I nodded and stepped back. They both started to drift out of the room and soon the house was filled with silence.

Well, that was one way to start the first day. What was I thinking? I don't know how to oil chains or how I'm supposed to sort them. How hard could it be..?

-

"Why did you let her put everything together?" George grumbled in the taxi.

"What do you mean?" Lockwood furrowed his eyebrows.

"She just started here and she acted like she could fix everything and how do you know she will just do everything right?"

"Because I hired her and I have faith. George, you just have to give her a chance." George grumbled in response and just stared out the car window.

-

Over time and working at 35 Portland Row I seemed to realize one thing that never seemed to change. George Karim.

It's like he goes out of his way to pick on things I didn't do correctly. It is possibly the hardest thing to deal with.

"We needed more salt bombs."

"Why didn't you get flares while we were out?"

“That’s not how you do it!”

Even when I'm not working and I'm hanging out with Lucy he will complain were "too loud" or "disturbing his peace"

He is extremely different around me. Whenever I walk into the same room as him it's like his whole mood changes. There's always this look in his eye I could never understand.

Anger? Hatred even?

He was friendly around Lockwood and Lucy but never me. I was really determined to figure out what I did to make him this way with me.

-

“Hey Luce?” I rolled over on Lucy’s bed.

“Hm?” She asked as she was painting her nails black.

“So you know why George isn’t fond of me?” She snorted.

“He’s fond of you even thought he might not like to show it exactly..?”

“It makes it sound like you’re just trying to make me feel better.” I groaned.

“Hey.” She looked at me pausing her nails. “Over these past couple of months, you’ve become like my closest friend. Why would I lie to you?” She put the nail polish brush back into the bottle and placed it on the side table.

“Because you’re Lucy Carlyle and you’re the most mischievous person I know.” She gasped before throwing a pillow at me with her non-painted hand. “See! Mischief!” Maybe and hopefully Lockwood would know.

-

"Lockwoooooood." I wined. He was surrounded by books in the library. He jolted up at my voice.

"Oh um hi." His eyes were wide and tired.

"Lockwood you need a nap." I frowned. He has a few empty tea cups surrounding him.

"Nevermind that. What did you need?" He blinked a couple of times trying to wake himself up. He looked quite a mess I wasn't even sure I should be asking him this right now.

"If I tell you, you must take a nap after." He nodded and kept blinking.

"Do you know why George doesn't like me?" Lockwood sat up and looked shocked.

"He doesn't not like you." I groaned.

"Ugh, that's what Lucy said! But it's true he obviously dislikes me I can see it in his cold eyes." Lockwood cracked a smile.

"He does i promise. But if you want to make any of us happy in this house.. food is the way to go."

"Thank you!" I beamed. Not only did I get a tip for George but for all of them.

-

I placed all of the bags of food on the kitchen table. I took Lockwood's advice immediately.

I made sure to purchase my own ingredients. George was picky about people using his spices or things in the fridges without his knowing and even if you did ask it was most always a definite no.

I wanted to cook for Lockwood and everyone else! Just a small nice gesture. And also to make George like me more.

I’ve had little experience from cooking but just enough to make this recipe. My family made it constantly and kept the ingredients and steps on a little note card in the kitchen.

I did my best and followed along as well as I could. I added everything as it should be, no more no less.

The smell attracted Lockwood into the kitchen.

“Oh Y/n. Hi.” I hummed. “I thought George was cooking.”

“Nope. Thought I’d do something for you guys. You’ve had a long week. You better have taken that nap like I told you.” The agents had many back-to-back cases making them extremely exhausted. Of course, I packed their gear each and every day and made sure they had something in their system before going off to fight visitors.

And since George has been tired he hasn’t been cooking meaning they’ve only been eating out.

“That’s very thoughtful. And I have by the way.” Lockwood flashed his signature smile and raised his hands in defense. "May I help?"

"Oh no, Lockwood! You sit down while I do this for you okay?"

"You've been doing so much all month! And the month before that too."

"Thats my job Lockwood." I chuckled.

"Just let me help a little bit." I sighed. I knew I couldn't keep him from helping since this is his kitchen and the boy is stubborn.

I don't know how but in a matter of minutes he made it so astonishingly messy.

"Hey if you keep making it this messy you're cleaning it up."

"Okay okay!" He laughed. With the extra help, the dish was being made way faster than before. Even if his real purpose was to mess up the kitchen and I swear it was.

"Can you go grab Lucy and George for me?" Lockwood hummed and he pulled his lanky body out of the kitchen and up to the bedrooms.

I started to place all of the food onto the table and I made everything as neat and pretty as I could. I wanted tonight to be special and I wanted George to actually like me. Even if it was just for tonight that wouldn't be all that bad.

One by one the members of Lockwood and co trudged down the steps and landed into the kitchen. A small chatter filled the room and it felt really nice to have this again.

Since they were always eating out this week I could never really join them and besides I was never at the house past the time they left at dusk. I always did the chores during the day and I only stayed if they asked me to.

They all pulled out a chair and Lockwood grabbed drinks and such . Soon they started grabbing their own servings of the food and their faces morphed into a interested grin. Except George of course he kept his plain look but I swear I saw the corners of his cheeks twitch as if he were going to.

The actual part where they tried the food was nerve-wracking. I was worried they wouldn’t like this but as soon as George spoke out my worries faded away.

"This isn't bad." George hummed

"Yeah, this is amazing Y/n! Where did you learn to cook like this?" She shoveled some more food into her mouth.

"Eh you know just my parents." George glanced down at his food.

"You should stay in tonight." Lockwood offered. "The food was great like they said and I'm sure we could all find something to do together."

I thought for a moment. The plan sounded lovely but I was sure I had plans later tonight.

"Well, my parents must-" George abruptly stood up and stormed out of the room and out of the house. The door made a loud bang. We all sat in silence.

I didn’t know what happened did but I for sure knew it had something to do with me.

I wasn't sure what to do so I followed George out of the house and saw him sitting on the steps with his hand propping his head up. I didn't say anything I just sat next to him.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. I don't know what I said or did but I just don't want you to be angry with me." George was silent for a moment his eyes glued to the street.

"I'm not mad at you." He finally said looking over at me. "I'm jealous." He admitted. I almost laughed but I was genuinely curious. I was doing Lockwood and Co's dirty work for gods sake. And of course, I wasn't mad about that that's what I signed up for. But in that moment I finally realized that look he gave me. It was jealousy.

"Jealous of what?" I frowned.

"Your relationship with your parents." He sighed. I was shocked but it made sense. All I've been talking about since I arrived here was my parents. I looked at him waiting for him to elaborate. "My parent's raised my siblings to be so successful they were all born engineers and I was just the odd child. When I got fired from Fittes they looked down on me they were so disappointed they barely even let me tell them why."

I was partly glad that George didn't hate my guts but another part of me felt sorrow for him.

"You're not an odd child." George scoffed at that. "It's true! You're so smart I've seen it. You crack most of the cases and Lucy tells me how quickly you find the sources. I've heard how hard you work to do research for this agency. Coming into this agency I had absolutely no idea how anything worked and now being around you and all the others… I feel like I know everything.” He nodded softly.

I scooted closer to him and he smiled.

“I know what it feels like to not fit in. In high school and even college, I was always a loner. I didn’t fit in with the other kids. Most of them would have parties and have fun but I was always sucked into my studies and that’s what made people not notice me. Well, I couple did and tossed me around for it but usually, they were drunk asshole boys who just wanted to get into a girl's pants.” George gave me a concerned look. “But here I feel like I have a place. Like I’m heard from and you guys understand me. And George… we all fit in together.”

It looked like something clicked in his brain. Like he finally realized something.

“You shouldn’t have to get your parent's approval to be successful.” I nudged him.

“I guess I just always paid attention to what I needed to improve on or do better I never realized what good was happening in front of me.” I patted his thigh. “I always preferred everything to be perfect. I think that’s why I made comments to you so much.”

“I’m also quite glad you don’t hate my guts.” He laughed. “I’m serious! I actually thought you hated me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just not a big fan of the unfamiliar. But you have been working here for well over two months.”

“It’s okay I just hope we’re okay from this.” I pointed between us.

“Yes yes.” He clarified.

“Now can we go back inside? And it’s quite hot and I want a donut.” I complained. George stood up and offered a gentle hand. I took it and struggled a bit because I swear I was almost melted to the ground.

We entered quietly and went back down to the kitchen where we saw Lockwood and Lucy giving each other very lovey eyes.

Me and George exchanged very well knowing looks.

“You know if you two are going to keep looking at each other like that you might as well kiss.” He spoke out making them jump in shock.

“Yeah it’s really quite painful you know?” I crossed my arms.

“No, we’re not like that I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lockwood fumbled with his words.

“Yeah, we aren’t doing anything.” Lucy flushed. “Yeah well since when are you two partners in crime?” I shrugged.

“Now.”

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Road Kill

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.1k

Summary: You learn something new about Wanda

A/N: Hello. I'm back. Wtf happened to the desktop layout while I was gone?? Anyways, here's a random thing that came to mind as I got my car washed the other day. Enjoy.

Warnings: brief depiction of road kill, blood, anxiety, and claustrophobia

It was an unfortunate series of events that landed you and Wanda at the car wash. You left work a little later than usual, and at this time of year that meant it was already dark. You didn’t like driving at night because it made the last ten minutes or so of your trip up the mountain treacherous and a little anxiety-inducing. You’ve had many animals run in front of your car, and tonight is one of those unfortunate times where you hit one of them.

Well to be fair, you hadn’t hit the poor deer, but the car that had, threw him in front of you, and you weren’t able to avoid running him over. You cursed and then cursed again when you stopped but the other driver didn’t, and you tried to look at the damage. It was difficult in the dark, and you didn’t want to really see it all. The smell was overwhelming as you stepped out of the car. When you look around and see that you truly are in the dark alone, you realize you’ll be even later getting home.

“Shit. “

Wanda’s finishing up dinner when she hears her phone ring from the living room. She sets her spoon down before hurrying past Boone and Fletcher to see who was calling her. She figured it was you since you’d told her that you were going to leave late tonight, and maybe you were letting her know that you would be home soon. She hates that you were still working late despite having such a difficult week, but she is glad that your weekend was starting now. She sees that it’s you calling, and she smiles widely before sliding her finger across the screen with a sigh.

“Hey, detka. Are you on your way?”

You can’t help but smile widely as you glance down toward your headlights that are a little splattered and look like a scene out of a horror movie. You still can’t force yourself to look down at the remainder of the deer that was under your fender, and you grimace at the starry sky with a loud sigh.

“Yeah, I was almost home, but someone hit a deer and it’s hit me, so I’m just going to be a little bit later.”

Wanda’s somehow never hit anything on the way home since they lived in the house. She’d gotten into plenty of accidents that were work-related, but otherwise she was pretty lucky. You had gotten a couple of speeding tickets that you hid from Wanda, and maybe three fender benders, but you’d somehow avoided hitting a deer, until now. You hear Wanda curse and she’s already looking for her keys when she responds. You hear her slight panic, and you’re already shaking your head as she asks the predictable question.

“Really? Are you okay? Do you need me to come and get you?”

Despite insisting that it was fine, Wanda’s already told you that she’s calling Bucky to come pick you up. You mention hosing off the car, and Wanda cringes but agrees as she goes outside to stand and wait for Bucky to arrive. She keeps you on the phone since it’s dark and you’re literally stranded in the mountains. You back your car up and try to get most of the deer off of it. You have already warned both your wife and friend to not look too closely unless they didn’t want to eat dinner tonight.

“We’re almost there, Y/n.”

You just make an affirmative noise before you continue to stare up at the few stars you can see through the trees. Tonight would be a good night to sit on the top deck of your house and stargaze with your wife and dog. You could do it later if you wanted to, but first you had to get your car cleaned. A couple of minutes later you hear a car come around the corner, and you stand up from where you’d been sitting at the sight of a familiar face. You smile when Bucky turns on his hazards before parking in front of you with a grimace. Wanda studiously ignores the grizzly scene as she rushes out of the car to meet you.

“Hey Wands. Hey Bucky.”

Wanda’s a little surprised when you mention how you wanted to take the car to the wash now instead of just going home to rinse it off. You mention how you don’t want to bring the smells back to the house, and Wanda kind of understands this, and she lets you thank and hug Bucky before she gets into the passenger seat to go with you. You sigh as you get buckled and quickly turn the car around and head back down the road.

“Hopefully this won’t take very long. We’ll be home eating dinner before you know it.”

Wanda smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she considers what she’s gotten herself into. She decides to focus on you and she reaches out for one of your hands as you continue to drive back toward town.

“How was your day, detka?”

You spend the next ten minutes telling Wanda about your day, and her telling you about hers. She had made sure that tomorrow would be free for her since you both have been so busy and you haven’t had a lot of time together. You are glad to hear this and by the time you arrive at the carwash, you’re ready to blow through it and get home quickly.

“Okay, let’s see.”

You pull up to the pay station and look at the vaguely familiar wash options. You are mumbling to yourself so you don’t realize that Wanda’s a little distracted as she looks to the dark tunnel that you’re going to drive through in less than a minute. She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that it’s going to be fine as you pay and roll the window back up.

“Alright, ready Wands?”

You’re pulling the car forward on the track as you ask this, not really expecting an answer, but when Wanda’s grip on the door and her seat tighten as she nods stiffly, you realize you should have paid more attention. The lights in the tunnel are a bright, dark blue and they come on as a loud beep signals you should put the car in neutral. You do and you only get to focus on the lights and how they look through the water that’s rushing down and from the side sprayers in front of you for a moment before your wife steals your attention.

Wanda’s focusing on her breathing as she keeps her eyes closed and tries not to think about being enclosed in such a small space with all of the noise around her. You reach out for her hand quickly as the car rolls into the first jets of water and the sound of it hitting the hood is almost deafening.

“Wands? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Wanda squeezes your hand before she shakes her head and turns to you with a slightly panicked expression. She’s only been in a car wash like this one time before, and she’d had a full-blown panic attack. She didn’t realize she was claustrophobic until she was inside surrounded by water without any way to get out. At least without getting drenched and covered in soap. She didn’t like feeling trapped, and as the water gets louder and the entire car is bathed in an eerie blue light, Wanda feels her breathing get shallow.

“No, I-I don’t like this. I need to get out.”

Wanda’s hand goes to the door, but she doesn’t open it as you slowly begin to realize what’s wrong. You honestly enjoyed car washes. Your car got clean, and you got 30 to 40 seconds of sitting in your car surrounded by the sound of rain and pretty lights. You love it, but apparently, it’s not everyone’s thing. You’re not sure how you didn’t know this before, but you’re quick to try and distract your wife since you can’t exactly get out right now.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll be out in a minute, and then we can go home and see the kids.”

Wanda offers you a small smile that you can tell is only a gesture, and not really sincere. You turn toward her and try to figure out how to best approach this. You didn’t know that Wanda was claustrophobic, but this is not the ideal time to figure it out. You unbuckle yourself before you reach over and lean Wanda’s seat back so she’s lying down. You unbuckle her too so she doesn’t feel so trapped, and you sit up and lean over the console with a small smile.

“Can you close your eyes for me, really quick?”

This is easy for Wanda to do, and she squeezes them shut as she takes your hands and holds them to her chest. She takes a deep breath and you start talking as you glance to the windows that are still being doused in suds. You admire the lights for a second before turning your attention back to Wanda.

“Do you remember our first date? Well rather our first time? It was maybe our tenth date, and you went all out and it was amazing. Do you remember what I’m talking about?”

Wanda struggles to focus on you at first as she tries to block out the sound of water thundering against the roof. When she realizes what you’re talking about, she can’t help but smile at the memory of it. She nods and she keeps her eyes closed as she breathes out barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah, I do.”

You smile in response as you kiss your wife’s forehead and think back on one of the most romantic nights of your life. This was probably the date that convinced you that there was no leaving Wanda. She was going to be it for you, and you’d hoped that she would feel the same way.

“It was probably one of my favorite dates, Wands. You were so sweet, and you spent what I’m sure was an obscene amount of money to make me happy.”

You realize that you’re getting close to the end of the tunnel because the car’s getting hit by air now to dry it off, and you try to speak louder so Wanda doesn’t hear it. She almost looks peaceful as she lies back with her eyes shut, and you just hope she’s thinking about your time together as fondly as you are.

“I was so nervous. I’d put a lot of effort…or at least money into it, and I was very worried you’d find it too cheesy.”

You shake your head as you shift slightly so you can pull the car up and out of the tunnel and back into the parking lot. You carefully park near the vacuums before humming in contemplation as you recall that Wanda was right. She had sat in the car for nearly ten minutes after she’d driven you to the club, and you’d been confused and a little worried.

“It wasn’t cheesy, my love. It was perfect. Really beautiful.”

Wanda was thinking of the decorations that she’d paid tens of thousands for, but you were mostly thinking about how the rest of the night had gone after leaving the club. It had been beautifully decorated, and it was the memory of the lights that made you think of it now, The lights have since gone out, and you and Wanda really are in the dark with just your cleaner headlights and a couple of lamp posts illuminating the parking lot.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Wanda’s eyes open to see you smiling at her, and she sits up a little so she can kiss you. You smile against her lips and only pull away a few seconds later when Wanda seems to realize where you are. She looks around briefly before she opens the window and watches as the last remaining drops of water disappear. She puts her seat back up and sticks her arm out the window and sighs heavily. She’s still looking outside as you put your seatbelt back on and start to pull out of the parking lot.

“Ready to go eat?”

Wanda turns to you with a smile before she nods in agreement. She’s starving and she’d almost forgotten as her anxiety seemed to overrule everything else. Now that she was calm, she was hungry again and she reaches over for your arm. She squeezes it gently and you turn to her when you come to a red light.

“Thank you, detka.”

You smile and kiss her cheek before continuing down the road. It’s time to get home and enjoy the rest of the night, and then tomorrow you and Wanda will have the entire day together. She keeps her hand on your arm for the rest of the ride home, and she’s already feeling the urge to go to sleep after this stress. Maybe she can convince you to eat on the couch in front of the television tonight.

“Of course, Wands.”

Masterlist

[onionpainter]

I have a question about your prep for oil painting, or more like when ur practicing. Do you use a specially treated paper to practice with oils (studies, quick thumbnail sketches, etc) before using canvas or do you just sketch ideas, layout on canvas and then under paint? I enjoy the medium a lot but I actually want to sketch and do studies in oil (without much drawing involved) but don’t want to waste canvas. Also hate painting gesso over stuff repeatedly. Is paper something you have tried? Any advise would be appreciated o wise onion painter

Ok, so as for my personal habits, I tend to do "Practices" digitally [I have a tablet and SAI] or sometimes on paper like so: [garlic is pencil on paper, rest are digital]. I do draw thumbnails but they are usually in marker or pencil in my sketchbook, and are little more than like, very stylized symbols representing subjects or different compositional patterns. Most of my painting planning and composition happens via digital photo collages.

The rest of my very long answer is under the readmore

I'll do colour studies occasionally if I'm feeling particularly anxious about a picture, OR if it has a colour range that I am yet unfamiliar with. I have done a couple colour studies for my current big picture with the cattle, one I did on location so I could have an example of the colours present in the landscape to my eye, and another of a seascape because this cattle picture will be my first significant effort to include the blue colour range into my vocabulary, and also to spend some hours painting clouds to get a feel for them. [for context, when I began with my current method of painting I began only painting white objects against back fabric with a value range from chromatic black to titanium white and then added in new colour ranges one by one once I was fluent in all of the preceding colour ranges] When it comes to your practice [and I mean "Practice" as in everything you paint overall] I think you might find canvas panels very helpful, as they take up very little space BUT they are still rigid and therefore don't need to be taped to a board or anything. They also come in a really wide variety of sizes and are very affordable. If you enjoy using canvas paper then you should continue what you are doing, but try different kinds of surfaces. Some people prefer to do oil paintings on sheets of copper. There will be a material that suits your style and your personality, you just have to find out what it is. I like belgian linen, but others may prefer gesso'd particle board.

You have several points going on in your question, so I will address them individually:

Not wanting to "Waste Canvas" Canvas is not a precious commodity. It is a raw material which can be used in the process of painting, therefore, its value lies in the work hours and expertise of the craftsperson who uses it. One of the most common uses of canvas is in art training. So you are not "wasting canvas" by using it for the purpose of learning the skills necessary for painting: that is a perfectly acceptable use for canvas, and all other materials. I'm not "wasting" a pair of hiking boots by walking at the bottom of a mountain, I'm using them, and if I don't use the boots at the bottom of the mountain I will never get to use them at the top.

Putting Gesso over oil paintings Don't do this. Gesso is a water based paint so it dries much faster than the oil beneath it. If you want to paint over a painting you can either paint over it with a neutral oil colour, OR, just do the new painting over it without the middle stage. Some things to watch out for if you reuse canvas this way: Ridge lines [bits of textured paint from the previous painting sticking up through your new painting might take away from it], oil layers [remember the fat over lean rule when choosing a canvas to paint over. if you have high concentrations of oil, aka fat, on the canvas already, it might be better to choose a different canvas], dryness [try to only paint over pictures that have had a good amount of time to dry.] Basically all of these warnings are to prevent cracking and other conservator problems with your paintings. A good painting can happen to your canvas at any time and it would be a shame to paint something you really like and have it crack later from poor application.

"Without much drawing involved" Painting is "mass drawing" [shapes not lines] with colour, so you can't really avoid drawing if you want to paint. This doesn't mean you have to use pencil or other dry mediums if you don't want to though, painting a value study [mass drawing] with oil is a very popular technique which many employ. I'd recommend that you look into "imprimatura" and "grisaille", two methods of value painting used for oil.

In conclusion, I don't want to get all "just be yourself" in here, but i'd recommend you research the different techniques and materials available to you and pick the one that has the fewest barriers to your work flow, feels the best to work with, and creates the final product that you want to create. If you were me I would tell you to work on belgian linen stretched canvases and occasional cotton canvas panels, but you may prefer something different so that advice may not be helpful. Keep at it!

[20dimensionsoftangerine]

Snippet one! This is a story where Canon Adaine somehow falls into a dimension where everyone's parents are... Alignment swapped? (Adaine, Kristen, and Fabian's families are very nice while Gorgug, Fig, and Riz's are less so)

(I have no idea where I was going with this scene so it just ends sorry!)

"I was thinking we should probably have some way to distiguish the two of us while you're here."

Adaine looked up from the book she'd been pouring over- an honestly badly written one about multiverse theory- to blink at her doppleganger sitting across from her.

The other Adaine was giving her a tentitive smile, the book on her own lap open but ignored for the moment. She was wearing comfortable, bright clothes but they were of much finer quality than anything Adaine had.

Adaine, huffed and turned back to her book. "What? You want one of us to dye our hair or something? I already have my jacket and a completely different outfit. We don't need more than that." She wasn't going to stick around long enough that she was going to have to change clothes. Hopefully

."Oh, no, not visually," the other one clarified, "I meant more our names. I can't keep thinking of you as 'other Adaine' that won't be fair."

Adaine grunted in acknowledgment but didn't contribute any kind of suggestion. She was fine thinking of this other her as... the other.

"I think I should be Adaine," the doppleganger continued, "and you can Odaine."

That did get Adaine to look back up, squinting suspciously at the hopefully smiling girl. "Odaine? Why?"

The other girl tapped her fingers in a nervous pattern Adaine was intimately familiar with as her smile grew nervous. "Well, because I'm Adaine Abernant and you're Adaine O'Shaunessy. It makes sense doesn't it?"

"No," Adaine instantly shot the idea down, focusing back on the book, "I'll just stick with my name, thanks."

"Oh," the girl sounded dissapointed. Adaine tried not to care about it. "Okay, I can just go by Addy then? While you're here? It's a nickname Aelwyn used to call me when we were little."

Every word Addy said felt like daggers to Adaine but she tried not to show it as she nodded. "That works."

There was a few minutes of blissful silence that Adaine used to read as much as she could. Multi-verse theory was rocky at best and had never actually been proven before. The book was only slightly better than useless.

"I'm sorry," Addy spoke up again, causing Adaine's eyes to flick up to her once more. They were in this girl's room. A room that had an identical layout to Adaine's old one but besides that was so far different it was almost comical. Instead of blank walls and sparce possesions the place was filled with things like fairy lights and posters and a terrariam and so many other things Adaine had in her current bedroom. Seeing her new life overlayed over her old one like this was making her nauseous. "Have I done something to upset you? I mean, obviously you have to right to be upset since you got thrown out of your universe for who knows what reason but you just seem to be... mad. At me. In particular."

Hells, were Adaine's eyes also that big and bright? It looked like Addy was staring straight through to her soul.

Or were Adaine's eyes duller? Tainted by something this version of herself had never had to experience.

"No," Adaine tried to say as sincearly as she could. Because the other girl really hadn't done anything wrong. "You're fine. I'm just stressed. And would really like to get home as quickly as possible."

"We've been at this for hours. Would you like to take a break?" Addy offered, "I can have father fetch us some tea if you'd like."

Adaine could not stop the shudder that ran through her body. "No. Thank you. I'm good."

Addy sighed and closed her own book before standing up and leaving the room entirely. Adaine tried not to let that worry her and tried to ignore the hauntingly familiar voices floating up from downstairs as she read more. Jumping to another dimension didn't actually seem that difficult, all things concidered. It was just about finding one that wouldn't instantly kill you. Or finding the very specific one you needed to get back to. That seemed next to impossible.

So engrossed did she get in the studying that Adaine almost jumped when Addy returned to the room some time later, two steaming cups in hand. "Five minute break," Addy said authoritivly, "it'll make the research go by easier in general."

"I'm fine," Adaine insisted as the other girl layed the cups on her desk. Not even using a coaster.

Addy gave her a very meaningful look, though it was more directed at Adaine's side. She glanced down and realized her finger nails of her left hand was digging into her knee to the point both her hand and leg were beginning to ache. Embarrassed, Adaine quickly shook her arm out and forced herself to relax.

Addy smirked knowlingly as she placed sugar cubes into the tea cups. "I have an anxiety disorder too, you know. I know how easy it is to get lost in research. Especially when it's something this important."

Adaine swallowed thickly and forced herself to close the book, staring at her own hands to avoid looking at the room around her or the other girl. "Why?"

"Hmm? Why what?" Addy asked, handing Adaine a cup that she almost mechanically drank from. It was overly sweet. Just like Adaine liked it.

"Why do you have an anxiety disorder?"

Addy blinked as she sank back into a cross legged position across from Adaine. "Genetics? I suppose? Father said he struggled with something similar in his youth but that was before they even had a name for it."

That was almost funny, Adaine thought as she stared dully into her swirling tea. Had her Angwyn gotten anxious? Was that why he hated the weakness so much in her? Or was that a difference between their two realities? Not a similarity.

"You're parents were cruel to you, weren't they?"

Adaine's head snapped up to stare at Addy who was looking at her with something that wasn't quite pity but was very clearly worry. "How do you know that?"

Addy's ears burned pink and it was now her turn to avoid eye contact. "I'm not stupid!" She said it like a reflex. "I know I... I know I'm naive and sheltered more than most but I'm not stupid. You... you have the same look. That look Gorgug gets when he has to think about it. And you're mad at me. The way Fig gets mad when she's jelouse and doesn't want to be." She squeezed her own cup in her hands and tentitivly looked up at Adaine. "Your parents were cruel to you. And because they're reflections of my parents being here is upsetting you. That's... right? Isn't it?"

Adaine took a deep breath, just like Jawbone taught her, held it for five, and was relieved that the exhale didn't stutter. "Who told you you were stupid?"

Addy opened her mouth like she was about to answer before closing it again with a thoughtful frown. "You're changing the subject."

Adaine rolled her eyes. "Yes, alright. My parents were horrible vile excuses for people. This house burnt down and I didn't even care if anyone was inside." She waved her hand vaugly through the air before letting it drop onto her lap. "I don't see how that's relevant though."

"If you're uncomfortable here we can leave," Addy offered. She didn't seem offended so that was something at least. Adaine had been worried her clear hatred for their surroundings would be rude to her temporary host. "There's always... uh... well, this is kind of the 'hang out' spot if I'm being honest. Kristen's place is a little crowded with her brothers, Riz's phyisically kind of small, and Fabian still won't tell me why he doesn't want anyone over at his place even though his parents have invited us multiple times."

"What about..." Adaine almost dared not ask, was trying not to think about the differences from this world and her own, but the question nagged at her and she didn't think it would just leave her alone. "Mordred?"

Addy let out a startled laugh before cutting herself off, her eyes wide. "Mordred Manor? Is... is that where you live?"

Adaine frowned but tried not to let the reaction get to her. It would make sense if her home was run down in this reality, it had been for a long time in hers after all. "Yeah my dad bought it and fixed it up. Uh, my new dad. I'm adopted."

"I know, I'm not stupid," Addy repeated, though there was an almost teasing smile on her face, "your last name is the same as Tracker's. Unless things are crazy different where you're from I kinda assumed her dad adopted you too."

"Does she call Jawbone her dad here?" Adaine ideally wondered.

Addy almost choked on her tea. "J-Jawbone? What do you... are you saying Jawbone adopted you? The werewolf?"