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coricatchthorne · 5 months ago

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Admissions 1.2: A Pattern in Your Rash Decisions (Emile)

Welcome (back) to Europa University: Admissions! Quick links if you need 'em:

Story level intro and content notes

Previous chapter

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Once again, Emile realized as Cylus told the waiter their order, he'd allowed himself to be swept along by a beautiful smile with a suggestion of hunger behind it.

As Cylus turned the full force of that periwinkle-purple gaze back onto him, Emile tried to remember why he shouldn't immediately surrender to it.

I cannot help but observe a pattern in your rash decisions, Emile, Mother had written, three nights ago. He'd sent the family a selfie taken with someone he'd thought a new friend, both of them lifting handfuls of genuine Old Earth dirt and sporting fresh piercings and gendermark earrings that identified them unambiguously as young men. While I congratulate you for committing to the course you have long considered, I am displeased to inform you that we received this news prior to your message. Here she'd screenshotted a Now post from a popular tabloid, led by a selfie similar to his. But this one was taken from the other side, at a much higher angle, showing off Emile's cleavage beneath his partially unbuttoned shirt and highlighting a saucy gleam in both boys' eyes. Below, a headline read: Rowdy Reterra Reveals Dilettante Devigne Daughter As Surprisingly Sexy Son?!

His wrist comm buzzed a message notification, drawing his eyes down with dread. Valerie, again. A guilty relief: better her than anyone else except Father, who'd already sent cheerful, oblivious congratulations to his original message. But even Val's correspondence held ominous possibilities right now, given her family responsibilities.

"Everything alright?" Cylus asked, one pale eyebrow lifting with curiosity.

"How rude of me!" Emile exclaimed, silencing his comm's notifications with a quick, embarrassed gesture. "I apologize."

Cylus shook his head with a smile. "You're fine. You just look a bit like a prisoner waiting for sentencing."

"It's just my eldest sister. I... haven't written her back for a couple days, and normally we message all the time. She's the one who told me about this place, actually!" Before he'd left home, Valerie had compiled a detailed list of her favorite spots in the City. He'd never guessed her recommendations would come in handy so soon. But Callisto's Café was perfect. The decor was spacious yet intimate: open areas partitioned by curtains of translucent, patterned fabric that evoked seaweed, punctuated with softly illuminated hanging glass art in abstract, vaguely aquatic shapes. Tables and booths were numerous, ranging from capacious to cozy enough for two, like the sheltered nook he and Cylie had found near the back. He even spotted several Devigne vintages on the high shelves behind the massive bar.

"You're at the University, right?" Cylus poured them each a glass from the carafe of ice water the waiter had left when taking their order. "I imagine that's keeping you busy."

"Well... yes, but it's not just that. I... ruffled some family feathers recently." Your choice of timing, location, and company for this transition demonstrate a concerning lack of forethought, a deviation from our previous discussions on this matter, and a violation of the Devigne family rules of conduct. I have attached them for you to review prior to your matriculation, Mother's message had continued. Do not forget to update your commcards with your chosen name. True to her word, Lyonesse Devigne had linked the document she and Valerie co-managed on family protocols for online and offline behavior, highlighting the portion about publicizing major life changes. It covered several pages, including security concerns and mitigations, press release review processes, and approved media channels. She'd also included the address of a commcard printer in Europa City, not that Emile had made it there yet.

Cylus studied him with amused interest. "You seem like a proper young man. Hard to imagine you doing too much ruffling. What got you in trouble?"

"An... indiscretion. During my Reterra last week." Emile stalled with a deep drink of water, wincing as frigid cubes threatened to tumble out onto his face. He much preferred his family's practice of chilling beverages prior to serving them. "Have, ah, you ever been?"

"To Old Earth? Haven't had the pleasure. What's it like?"

A smiling server arrived with their wine, leaving Emile time to consider. His eyes lingered on the cascade of red liquid into their glasses, a sight familiar as home, as his memory ranged over the two weeks he'd spent being ferried about Old Earth with a collection of other well-off visitors from across the galaxy.

As the server retreated, leaving two generous pours and the bottle behind, Emile spoke again. "It was beautiful, what I saw of it. They flew us over all the most famous preserves, mountains and forests and grasslands and deserts... like nothing I've ever seen. But they don't take you down into them, which makes sense given the regulations, but I felt so... removed." They'd flown over some of the old ruined cities, too: drowned, or burned, or starved, in the long, bleak era when Terra's population had dropped from billions to its remaining few, heavily regulated millions. The others on the tour had regarded the ruins with the same mild excitement they'd shown for any of the natural wonders, which had left Emile feeling quietly uncomfortable. He sipped the wine to distract himself from the complicated knot of feelings in his chest; it tasted good, mellow and warm with an undercurrent of spice. "But the ocean!" His heart soared and twisted at the memory. "We spent three days on a boat around these remote islands, which was amazing. Have you ever heard of snorkeling?"

Cylus hadn't. Before Emile realized it, he'd finished his glass, waxing rhapsodic about the experience. He'd been one of few on the trip who knew how to swim, and never more grateful for it than when stroking through rock arches and exploring strange stony landscapes below the waves.

But then he paused, sorrow surging through him. "It's so sad, though," he said, voice sinking to a whisper. "It used to all be alive, you know? You can see the echoes of it; shells and skeletons and dead reefs. I've seen vids of how it used to be, before the last mass marine extinction and the resulting... conservation efforts. Now, at least where we were, it was so... empty." Even some of the fallen cities had looked more alive, green with plants reclaiming spaces humans had been forced to abandon.

Silence fell between them for a moment, Cylus studying him over a half-empty glass. "Anyway," Emile continued, a wave of self-consciousness rushing him forward, "We ended up in New Singapore, which is where Brenn and I..." He hadn't meant to mention Brenn. But the experience felt tangled inside him, and he ached to talk about it to someone who wasn't a member of his family. For all he knew, Cylie and everyone else at the University had seen the post already, like the leader of the boys he'd fallen in with after convocation had. Maybe all his prevarication was for nothing. "We... connected, and then got gendermarks together. Then a picture of us got posted on Now, and went... a little viral. And that's how my family found out."

"Ahh," Cylie nodded, refilling Emile's glass without evidence of recognition. "Are they strict about that kind of thing?"

"Not about gendermarks or anything weird like that. My eldest sister got one younger than me. And my third-sib..." Emile recalled Dion's reply to Lyonesse's stern message, perfectly calculated to draw their mother's ire. Dion had taken a series of pictures at a club, surrounded by scantily clad celebrants with left ears pierced but empty. All their gendermark earrings hung from the ornate tunnel plug stretching Dion's left lobe: an assortment of triangles, diamonds, and circles overlapping in various orientations. Dion's note had read: Congrats, little brother! I wanted to follow your example but couldn't decide which gender this time. Think I should hold a public poll??? "Well, they change marks often. It's that my family is..." Once again, he teetered on the brink of dropping his surname; once again, he swallowed it. "...kind of private."

Obfuscation always felt awkward in his mouth. He hadn't thought twice before sharing his family name with the other members of his Reterra tour group. But he'd discovered how the very presence of that name drew conversations into inexorable orbit around the world Emile had spent his whole life deciding, with great reluctance, to leave. And then Brenn, who'd seemed more interested in him than his name, had... Well. Mother seemed sure Brenn had sold the image to the outlet that published it, but maybe someone had harvested it from a more private gallery. After all, Emile hadn't told him to keep it secret or anything.

"Does that mean I shouldn't ask anything more about them? I confess I'm terribly curious now, but I wouldn't want to get you in more trouble."

Cylus' teasing tone made Emile want to keep talking, despite everything. "Well, I'm the youngest of seven..."

Another member of the waitstaff appeared as if sent to spare Emile from his own incipient folly, carrying a plate of the flaky pastries that were the café's specialty. "What about you, though?" Emile asked as he cut one of them open, salivating at the scent from within. The first bite, chased with a sip of wine, sent his eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before he collected himself. A spring-harvest white from home would have been Emile's choice to accompany fish, but the red Cylus had chosen earlier matched better than Emile had expected with the vivid seasonings, creamy sauce, and finely chopped celery and lotus root rounding out the fish pastries. He swallowed, cheeks warming to notice Cylie watching him, and remembered to finish his question. "What's your family like?"

Cylus had a twin sister, it turned out; they were traveling performers, which sounded terribly romantic to Emile. He'd always wanted to see the Masked Parade in person, and Cylus said that he and Cynthia had even traveled with them for a time. Before he could ask more about that, though, Cylus shared that they were visiting to decide if they wanted to go to the University too. When Emile volunteered that he was only just starting there himself, Cylus had leaned forward with obvious interest, veering their conversation into the minutiae of the application and admissions process.

By the time Cylus seemed satisfied with that topic, they'd finished the bottle of wine and half a dozen of the buttery, spicy fish rolls. Emile had grown up sipping at his parents' table and had body mass to handle his drink, but by now even he was starting to feel altered.

Though he had enough self awareness left to attribute some of that feeling to how Cylus' eyes kept lingering on his.

"So, Emile," Cylus asked as he refilled Emile's glass from a freshly arrived bottle, "What made you decide to go to Europa University?"

Emile couldn't help thinking back to convocation that afternoon, and the dean's opening address. Yours are the minds that will guide the future of this system, and perhaps this galaxy. And we at Windfall's Europa University will be with you every step of the way.

Emile hadn't come to Europa to guide the future of the galaxy. Right now he was struggling to guide his own eyes, which kept wandering along the curve of pale hair at the edge of Cylus' jaw. "Well... my sister Valerie... she went here. Did really well. She's amazing. She helped convince my parents it might... I don't know, awaken something in me? Not like that," he groaned when Cylus snickered. "My mother literally just..." He'd almost said sent me of our family rules of conduct, the sort of comment almost as bad as dropping his family name. "... Reminded me to behave, after the whole... gendermark incident."

"What kind of misbehavior is she worried about? That kind of 'incident' doesn't seem like it'd come up too often, except maybe for someone like your third-sib." Cylus' tone was light, but his gaze held a sharp edge of interest.

That edge sent pleasant shivers through him; words spilled before he thought better of them. "They... don't love either of my longer term sweethearts." Xiomara, too threatening; Marc, from the wrong class. "And on top of that, our family... entertains a lot of guests, and I was supposed to help out. But I kept... Entangling with the guests. Sometimes more than one... on the same night. At the same time."

"Sounds like a perk more than a problem, if you ask me." The warm lack of surprise in Cylus' smile filled Emile's body with champagne bubbles, as did his lack of dismay at Emile's mention of other lovers.

"It wasn't always sex, even!" Emile continued, buoyed by that lightness. He really ought to ask if Cylus was making an advance. "I like... talking with people." Despite what his array of sexual encounters might suggest, Emile had often been told that he was flirting when he hadn't intended to, and equally often his own attempts at flirtation passed unnoticed. He was worse still at recognizing when people were flirting with him. It all ran together in his mind, a blurry continuum of interaction that seemed to have clear demarcations for everyone else. "But Mother's always telling me to think more about others' judgments. How they might harm me, or the family. She's been in PR for a long time, since before any of us were born. I guess it's hard for her not to think about it. But I'm not good at living that way. I just want to..."

The world seemed to contract around the two of them, a bubble of warm stillness.

"I just want to connect," Emile said softly, meeting Cylie's eyes for an instant before averting his gaze into the depths of his wineglass. "With people, and with the world."

Memories swept through him. Home: the tannic taste of first-harvest grapes, seeds slick against his tongue; the warmth of an apple tree trunk against his back as he tinkered with a damaged drone harvester; the scent of crushed green as his father culled unwelcome evidence of their planet's lingering wildness. Xiomara's firm touches; Marc's gentle, enveloping embrace. And more recently, the weightlessness of water; the dance of sunlight on stone; the feeling of earth between his fingers and the sting in his earlobe and the weight of Brenn's arm slung around his shoulders.

His hand fell away from his wine glass, palm upward on the table between them. "So I... I'd really like to know whatever you'd like to share about yourself," Emile finished, self consciousness creeping in again. "Because I also like to talk about myself, apparently. Far too much."

The touch of Cylus' fingers on his hand brought his eyes back up with a jolt. Something in Cylus' expression seemed... open, in a way it hadn't before. "Alright, then. Do you want to hear about the time my sister and I performed on the promenade of Vega Station?"

Emile, savoring the warmth of Cylie's hand against his, wanted nothing more.

The conversation flowed from there, melting into an easy exchange of stories and reflections. All of Emile's were from home: enough interesting people came to Devigne's Paradise that, without naming names, he managed to at least keep up with Cylie's array of far-flung adventures: from an asteroid colony in a distant system, to the crowded streets of Titan, to a harrowing visit to a volcanic planet on the verge of reclamation. As Emile listened, he remembered how Cylus' hand had closed on his shoulder, earlier; the way those fingers had curled against his waist while he was doing tricks with his knives. How fast those transparent blades had spun, how close, while Cylus wove words into the most beautiful shapes...

Across the table, Cylus' mellifluous voice paused.

Emile jolted, realizing he'd practically fallen into a trance; lost in the rhythm of words to the point he'd stopped absorbing their content. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," he gushed, searching for Cylus' expression in the dim cafe light. He needed to clean his glasses; pulling his hand back and retrieving a cloth from his breast pocket, he did so frantically. "I, I drifted away, there! You have such a wonderful voice." No, that was too forward for having just utterly lost the thread of conversation. "I, uh, please, would you be so kind as to repeat the last bit of your story?"

Fumbling spectacles back onto his face, he blinked to find Cylus laughing softly, something new in his eyes.

Something warm, and wicked.

"You're sweet." Cylus drained scarlet dregs from his wineglass without releasing Emile's gaze. "Being flustered looks good on you."

Without thinking, Emile picked up the wine bottle, angling it above Cylus' glass in unspoken offer. Cylus' smile widened, head inclining approval. Emile's next words spilled from his lips as inexorably as the pouring wine. "You're beautiful. Anything would look good on you." Only the truth. Cylus' dress was plain, the same flat gray trousers-and-shirt that Emile had noticed on a number of people in both the Terran and Europan spaceports. Perhaps some widely available matter-printer pattern? Regardless, those plain garments did nothing to diminish the force of his appearance: delicate features, soft-swept hair, and those slender-fingered hands, which had moved with such precise confidence. His skin looked untouched by sunlight in a way that Emile had never seen before leaving home, almost worryingly pale. But paired with his platinum hair and those striking amethyst eyes, Emile found the full effect eerily beautiful.

Cylus snickered, breaking Emile from another momentary reverie. "Really thought you were about to drop a line, there." When Emile blinked, confused, Cylus leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You know, 'anything would look great, nothing would look even better'?"

Emile flushed, shifting with sudden awareness of how wet he was. "I mean, I'm certain that's true, but I, um, didn't think of it and also I wouldn't want to be impolite..."

"Don't worry." Cylus smiled over the rim of his glass, licking a trace of red off his lips. "You've been very polite. Lucky for you..." Pressure ghosted against his calf. Emile nearly jumped from the padded booth seat. "...I'm not." The contact firmed, sliding upward: Cylus' foot, teasing the inside of Emile's knee.

Emile's breath sped.

Cylus' foot stilled, maintaining a light contact that felt like it was drawing all of Emile's blood down towards it. "Now, if I promise I won't consider it rude," Cylus swirled his glass, scarlet liquid dancing in lazy circles, "Would you like to try your line again? If you really want to be proper," Cylus' long lashes lowered, periwinkle shadowing into indigo, "You can work in a please."

"Please," Emile breathed without further thought. "Would you..." The touch against his knee intensified, pressing outward. He let it move his leg apart from its opposite, cheeks burning hot. Cylus' eyes seemed to swallow the world as that pressure shifted to Emile's inner thigh.

Emile let the first words that reached his tongue come tumbling out. "Please would you show me how those knives work?"

Cylus' touch on his leg froze.

Between heartbeats, Emile lived and died a hundred lifetimes. Why that question? Why not the line Cylus had offered him? Everything had been going so wonderfully...

This time, Cylus' laughter was no soft, seductive thing, but a burst of amusement that shocked Emile's heart into beating again. "You..." Cylus just managed to set his wine down without spilling it, bending over the table and muffling a delightfully undignified series of snorts and gasps with one hand. The touch on Emile's thigh vanished, and his whole body lamented its departure. But Cylus' overflowing mirth replaced its command of his attention.

Emile's face split into a grin so wide it hurt. In that moment, he would have said or done anything in his power, if it meant he would hear Cylus laugh like this again.

As Cylus regained control of his breath, Emile seized the wave of exhilaration and rode it through his next few words: "And also please tell me we're flirting and I'm not imagining it because I also would love to see you in anything you want, including nothing. If that's something you'd like too. P-please."

That set Cylus laughing again, which felt so good that Emile found himself able to sit comfortably with the near-agonizing fact that Cylus hadn't actually answered him yet.

"Oh," Cylus managed at last, wiping his eyes with the same red silk scarf he'd conjured earlier. "People underestimate you, don't they, Emile?"

"Sometimes," Emile admitted, suddenly shy. "You too?"

Cylus smiled and slid out of the booth in one graceful motion, standing and extending a hand towards Emile. "Well, I can't do either of those fascinating things you requested here, can I? I don't suppose you know anywhere that's good for a more... private conversation?"

It was only after he'd paid and followed Cylus out the door that he realized Cylus had deflected his last question with two others.

That counted, Emile told himself—hand exquisitely enfolded by Cylus' warm, dexterous fingers, the street air cool against his flushed face— as the best kind of answer: the kind that trusts the listener to figure it out themself.

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Next Chapter >

Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider following, and/or subscribing for free on my website. You can also find me on Bluesky.

#europa university: admissions #europa university #emiles antics #emile devigne #cylus keene #serial fiction #science fantasy #queer fiction #queer romance #lgbtqia fiction #t4t mlm #t4t romance #trans boys flirting

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crush3dmary · 6 months ago

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💡 +🪅 + 🎁

Eyyy Resuri <3 happy holidays my friend!

💡 what's a fun idea you had that you didn't have time to get to?

Honestly, I really wanted to write more for Tales this year now that I'm sort of feeling the spark again! My wife and I were talking about doing a zelloyd collab but never ended up getting around to it, and I have that Aegis/sort of maybe viae idea I mentioned last time around that will end up being written after the new chapter of Philosophy. But I'd really like to get back to writing Symphonia again in particular, seeing as that will always be my 'home base', so to speak! I have an idea for some more Zelos projection about my headcanon of his family's history with mental illness, which will be very cathartic to write, especially with everything I've been dealing with recently.

🪅 brag about any project you want to! tell us why we should be reading it RIGHT NOW!!!

Uh, can I choose Philosophy here? Lol! It's really my only ongoing project at the moment, everything else has just been oneshots since I normally only have the energy to work on one multichapter at a time. But if you haven't been reading Philosophy of a Knife and have a strong stomach for violence and disturbing content, it's a vivid psychological horror where Ryou becomes Zorc's vessel and Bakura wins, but it's much more about the journey than the destination. Beyond anything else, it's a deep dive into Ryou's changing mindset and corruption with plenty of season zero-esque shadow games, especially in the later chapters. If you read, this gets quite disturbing after chapter 8 or so, but it's got a bit of a slow build to it and everything is warned for in the author's notes with skip lines, but do mind the tags regardless!

🎁 hype up one of your writing buds! what of theirs did you enjoy this year?

I think i'm gonna have to give this one to @kitsunefaux - they've written some really amazing stuff this year and their depictions of the bakumali crew are some of my favourites! I've really enjoyed reading Host which you'll love if you're a fan of Philosophy, I don't usually gravitate towards AUs that deviate from canon too much but this one gripped me by the balls and encouraged me to expand my horizons, lol. I've also had the honour of being brought on as the beta reader for One Wish which is absolutely one of their best works to date, and every time I get sent a new chapter it's normally the highlight of my night. And of course, I can't NOT shout out their fic for the tendershipping zine Parasite too, since the work everyone did on that zine was outstanding! All their stuff is worth reading, but there's a few to start!

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transmothergoddess · 1 year ago

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"Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven" - The Devil, Paradise Lost by John Milton

This blog will feature kinks such as:

Pleasure-domming

Incest

Cult-play

Cannibalism

Trans Supremacy

Consensual non consent

Impregnation

And more. This is your content warning. If things of this nature in fiction are not to your liking then you should not be viewing this blog. Minors dni, don't be a dick, etc.

As for turn offs:

Bathroom kinks and diapers

Furry/anthro/scalie and things of that nature

Bothering me without permission

Baby talk or uwu writing styles

Hyper proportions

Men in dominant roles.

Raceplay

If you run a blog that includes one of my turn offs, feel free to follow and interact, but just respect that I'm not interested in that personally and I won't be looking at your blog. I block with enthusiasm, so respect my rules on my own blog and we'll get along.

Rules: For my own mental health and emotional well-being, as well as to suit my tastes, I'll keep a simple list of things I expect from anyone who chooses to interact with me personally, but not with simple likes or reblogs/comments/tags on my posts.

1) Don't take these rules way too seriously. This is for fun and fantasy, these rules are a guideline for my own enjoyment and to get me in the mood and fuel my desires. At the end of the day I'm a normal person that has a lot on her mind, and I can't pay attention to everyone.

2) Uphold a basic standard of literacy with as few spelling mistakes or grammar deviations as possible. I like when people I interact with have a good grasp of writing.

3) Don't beg for tasks, ask politely and with humility. If I am in the mood, I will deign to grace you with my attention.

4) Don't pester me with multiple asks or messages. I don't mind spam likes/reblogs or tons of asks/messages, but when it starts venturing into self-deprecating or begging for attention, I'm liable to block and move on.

5) Respect my privacy and boundaries. I work hard irl and just want to have a fun relaxing time. I also deal with mental illness so sometimes I'll go inactive for awhile for my own sake. If I say I'm dealing with something for instance, give me a bit of breathing room and assume if we were using the red/yellow/green light system that I just invoked a yellow or red light.

6) I primarily soft-domme. I'll do harder stuff if I like you, but it's emotionally taxing and if we do that, I need aftercare. If you don't think a domme should ask for aftercare, just don't bother speaking with me.

7) Irl I struggle with body image issues that I'm trying to work on. Don't ask me about my height, my weight, my size, or just anything about my real body. If you want a picture, and I really enjoy your company, I may send something. But for fucks sake I am sensitive about my appearance and it drives me up the wall when people demand pictures.

8) My preferred honorifics are: Mother, Goddess, Mistress, Queen, or anything that conveys a sort of maternal or holy authority. Mommy doesn't convey the sense of knowing acknowledgement that I like. Fellow tops, dommes, or casual visitors to my blog can instead use "My Lady" or "Your Grace" if it pleases them.

9) If you want more of my attention, think of me as a queen or cult leader with tons of sycophants and menials I deal with on a daily basis. I like intelligent, independent people that show enthusiasm and respect. I like *interesting* people. You aren't just preening for my attention, you should be trying to court me or curry my favor. I tell everyone they're my favorite, but if you actually want to be more than a tool for my pleasure then you have to show me or teach me something interesting.

10) Anyone identifying as a man, he/him pronouns, or masculine honorifics should first show respect and submission to me before sending asks or dms.

With this all in mind, welcome to the Courts of Love, and the Cult of Pleasure~

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that-ghosts-art · 2 years ago

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“Come on buddy, don’t ya wanna make a lil deal with lil ol’ me?”

I’ve been on a bit of an equivalence high recently as anyone following me may have guessed haha ^-^

For anyone who’s interested I’ve written some of my thoughts on demon!Mabel below the cut :3

First things first let's talk about her style and general appearance, cause I feel like I’ve deviated a fair bit from the previously established fancy suit she’d been portrayed as having like Dipper.

My logic for the change (outside of wanting to try drawing something that isn’t a suit haha) is that I feel she would have more varietyin the outfits she wears compared to Dipper. Looking at the show Dipper was out there wearing the exact same outfit for an entire summer while Mabel (admittedly wearing the same type of clothes) had significantly more variety, wearing a different sweater every episode, some episodes even having more than one, and I feel this would continue to reflect here.

Dipper has his suit and doesn't venture much further then that if he can help it (obviously not to say he doesn't but you know what I mean). Mabel mean while would have a new outfit every day, multiple per day sometimes!

Most of the time I think she would default to a more punk, diy aesthetic because of the inherent creativity of it (which for a typically detail averse artist such as myself was certainly a decision haha), not to mention I can imagine Mabel being like “I’m a literal demon Dipper I gotta go for the outfits with the spikes and chains!”

At the same time she would definitely enjoy trying out a whole host of different styles (to a point though. Some just aren't comfortable, not any more at least, a part of her stolen away with the Transcendence).

I'd need to do some research into clothing styles to say specifically what else she would enjoy, but I can say it's a lot of black with small splashes and highlights of colour. She's also, regardless of style wear lots and lots of jewellery and piercings cause I think she’d like them :3

Switching things up a bit I wanna quickly go over her pins (ie, her queer identities). My hc for demon!Mabel is the same for normal Mabel, being bisexual with a masc preference, and a demigirl (she/her/they/them exploring and trying out various neo pronouns as she encounters them, rotating through them depending on her mood).

Slightly serious tangent, but I know the previously established lore for EAU was that she would be aroace, but in all honesty that never quite sat right with me. Like the only reason she, or subsequently Dipper in the main TAU canon, are aspec is because of the demon-ness, and while I love demons and the demonic as much as the next aroace person, and I adore representation of my identity, the implications aren’t my favourite in the world. Obviously no disrespect to the people behind that decision, (in fact I applaud them on exploring how a character like Mabel might react to people assuming she wants that in this lil fic here :3). Only the maddest of respect to the people who make characters the identities they want them to be :) I just wanted to address it for anyone who like me has read every bit of eau content they can get their grubby lil hands on and noticed that particular difference :p

Besides, this way we get to explore the logistical and moral implications of a character being allosexual while also being an incredibly powerful and immortal being, especially when you get into questions of how she ages herself compared regular humans :3c (I think I'll leave that for another post though haha)

On a different note, another design idea I had was that it'd be really cool if she had a dynamic and moving tattoo that would constantly change and show new (typically pig and star related) designs :) this definitely wasn't inspired by my own inability to come up with and stick to a particular singer design, definitely not.

I also thought it would be neat to differentiate the demonic aspects of her and Alcor's design by giving her feathered wings, rather than the typical bat wings. I mostly just thought it could be nice to try drawing something different, and while Dipper and Mabel are very close and have a fair amount in common they are still very different characters, so it would make sense for their demonic features to differ, even is only slightly. On that note I also gave her a pink outline to her pupils as inspired by this art cause I thought it was neat :3

Anyway I accidentally posted this before I was finished so Imma just take that as a sign to stop and put my other thoughts in a different post haha 😅

#art #my art #equivalence au #ghost chatters #tau #demon!mabel #mizar #I had perhaps too much fun with this pose and colouring haha #if you saw this in the seconds before I realised I has posted this before I was finished #no you didn't

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innerangeltoadlover · 1 year ago

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9. I remember my first visit to my new psychiatrist I said that I was inwardly quite confident. She sat there and started shaking her head quite vigorously- I was sort of taken aback by this because I don’t measure myself against a person like her and it was plainly rude. I think with my illness, I have done okay, but the fact that she actually was shaking her head like she completely disagreed was pretty off putting. I have never thought of myself as a weak or inferior person but as I watched her I felt that. I also refuse to use terms such as strength or weakness to describe the human condition- if I did I’d probably top myself. I think I’ve been dealt a really hard card and I have reacted to the way I have been treated in unconventional ways. I expect that a psychiatrist is smart enough to realise that schizophrenics aren’t going to measure themselves against a norm which psychiatry has created - to me there are many forms of confidence. What I found most strange about her reaction was that it was an instantaneous response to my declaration of confidence. Even 3 years after this meeting this was a huge indicator of where my visits were going to take me (I can hear a toilet flushing ). I am sure that in normal types of therapy confidence is something to be nurtured however in my case confidence was merely evidence of denial. I was also pleasantly contented that the Court case had shone a light on my sister’s psychopathology and I felt I was turning a new page. My former psychiatrist had assured me that my new psychiatrist was great with trauma and I would be treated accordingly. There was lots of hugging etc etc and goodbyes etc etc. The reality is that my new psychiatrist is the most hardline doctor I have ever had and she has done considerable damage. During a phone call with my previous psychiatrist she described her as a bit “cold” and then proceeded to say, “ but you wouldn’t mind that”. So all in all it’s a bull shit game that we nutters are subjected to and conversations are , for the most part meaningless and suited to a particular moment in time which doesn’t matter anyway. I will always believe that the Court Case offered me an opportunity to run through a wide open door that had a wellness sign hanging on it . However that opportunity was bolted shut in my first session and this has motivated me to write this. At my age there really is no valid reason to destroy the moments of happiness and realisation for a client because they may deviate from what is a medical model that has failed me and so many others. I have committed no crimes in my life and I feel I deserved to enter my 60s with the peace of mind that the Court Case had given me . There was also so many moments of affirmation from lawyers , nurses who cared for my parents that my sister was hellish and I’d had to put up with absolute rubbish - not a hope from psychiatrists though. So when I talk about the bacteria in a Petri dish - it ain’t bullshit.

So did I believe in the diagnosis from the beginning? Yes absolutely and completely -I was 25 and a total mess. I still believe in the diagnosis but the treatment is far worse than the illness. I have always taken some pride in being different but carried myself without the confidence that difference requires. As a result of difference without brilliance I was bullied mercilessly- this bullying began in the home ( they call it sibling rivalry) and at the time it was believed to be a rite of passage growing up. The prevailing mood is “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and other such cliches. I’m afraid in my case and in the case of many others sibling abuse is a form of domestic violence which though under reported can have devastating consequences. When one is abused at a young age it can create a pattern which is replicated throughout life if not dealt with.

#im just mentally ill #mental illness #anti psychiatry #anti psychotics #mental health #art #artwork #mentally fucked

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cature · 1 year ago

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💌 ) BEST BELOVED. okay time to be normal. here’s a tag for my comfort characters, never specified by name or dug into in any meaningful depth. i am putting them in my mouth and chewing. i am asking at all times to be reading illuminated treatsies on their actions and their subtexts and their costume designs and their leimotifs and to hold their beating heart in my hands (just to look at it!) and yeah, okay, also sometimes to suck their soul out of their body twice a day for the rest of my life.

💎 ) OLD MONEY. this is quite literally just my blair waldorf tag. it’s the newspapers in print and the purses that don’t carry cash and lipstick made custom and champagne from the valley and not just imitation. it’s the world that gatsby could entertain but never enter. it’s the girls who aren’t daisy. it’s a white winter in the city, but every path you walk on is still clean and dried. the grand vizier, the high pope, the dark curl-spilled queen to serena’s lion-haired king among men, morgan le fey come again to wear chanel.

🔏 ) POETRY. another normal tag! i am a horrific poet with barely a handful of daily lit deviations (i hope reading that phrase gave you flashbacks) under my belt, but the self-published poetry scene is finally recovering from the mass damage that instagram and richard siken fanfic did to it. and i for one am fucking pumped. other quotes with particularly good cadence will also be thrown in here just to jazz things up a bit.

📖 ) MEDIA. i’m on a normal tag roll. these are the stories that are important to me in ways unrelated to comfort characters or my deep abiding need to get plowed by questionable anime men. a lot of my favorite posts end up untagged on my sideblog because they’re not as structured as i like my main to be, so the ones that do make the cut are guaranteed to have been heralded by me physically showing one of my spices my phone.

🥠 ) LITTLE THOUGHTS. essentially a text post tag. a lot of them have tended to be sweet or sad rather than silly, but i like collecting the ones that make me react. fortune cookie emoji feels self-explanatory from there. as with my media tag anything that i like enough to have but not enough to revisit or incorporate into my bird’s nest goes over on a sideblog, so these reblogs are fun treats for me to pick back through.

🪶 ) HOPE AS AN ACTION. “empathy isn’t just something that happens to us - a meteor shower of synapses firing across the brain - it’s also a choice we make: to pay attention, to extend ourselves. It’s made of exertion, that dowdier cousin of impulse. sometimes we care for another because we know we should, or because it’s asked for, but this doesn’t make our caring hollow. this confession of effort chafes against the notion that empathy should always rise unbidden, that genuine means the same thing as unwilled, that intentionality is the enemy of love. but i believe in intention and i believe in work. i believe in waking up in the middle of the night and packing our bags and leaving our worst selves for our better ones.” - leslie jamison.

🫖 ) LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. domesticity, and family, and growing, and trying your best, and singing without thinking about it, and cooking for eachother, and existing in the world as a participant. being housebound on and off for years has not been good to me even as being happily married and content in my triangle has been a massive act of healing. somewhere in between the two i’m holding on fiercely to celebration of the things i can still do together with them and trying to believe that it can be enough.

🍫 ) BITTERNESS. kind of discourse, kind of venting. i’m not overly invested in collating my opinions daily any more, but i have been saying certain things for actively years now while waiting for the wider zeitgeist to catch up to me and it’s always a pleasure to see a widely accepted and welcome new take from the last three months that i got into a fight in my 2018 dms for suggesting. sometimes i just want to hit people i have blocked with a car. being a sex worker who has to ebeg will do that to otherwise perfectly lovely friendships more than you’d think. sometimes you are all just so, so illiterate. essentially a dump for anything that pisses me off.

🔖 ) AUDIENCE ASIDES. this one is for “reblog and tag yourself” memes and is functionally an about me tag that i fill up only with uquiz answers, disjointed facts from my childhood, and either/or games. they’re fun! not everything has to be complicated. scroll around this tag for interaction bait or just to hang out. maybe one day i’ll port my vent app “which major arcana are you” tag meme over here as a uquiz of some kind. that’d be fun, i think. (i’m the moon, btw. just in case you were wondering. mine was the moon.

🫕 ) BESTIES. this is a catch-all tag for my assorted friends to opt-into that is 110% just about being, yknow, kind of a cunt. all of the references to insane internet-specific drama go here, all of the polycule jokes go here, all of the “hey i know you’re high so i invited a thousand people over” jokes go here, and so does all of the sweet stuff. fondue emoji because that way people can dip in and choose to be included in it or not, and also i am too lazy to tag for each individual 🌈/🐰/🎲/📿/🐱/🐻/fruit code/tumblr mutual/etc vibe.

🕰️ ) FIRST FOLIO. because despite the lobotomy i am in fact a washed-out imitation of both english and art history qualification-havers, and sometimes a bitch wants to talk about the way the world shaped a colour choice or a turn of phrase or an adaptational choice between book and stage or stage and dance. constantly fellating the macmillan romeo juliet choreography, my own imaginary staging of ibsen’s fruen fra havet, and prospero’s final lines in the tempest. this is a dump tag for anything that i would pin to a board like a butterfly if given the chance to do so together with my loved ones.

🌪️ ) OIL ROOM. oh, hey, a normal tag again. an art tag, even, for things that rattle around in my brain for a few days after, or things that i’d spend useless hours trying to dig back up on pinterest to add to a board for a fictional character that has (in a similar manner) started to haunt me. probably going to lean more modern sculpture than traditional oil, but to be fair that is because traditional oils find their way into my other tags and didn’t need an invented catch-all for me to skim back through circa pinterest o'clock in six weeks when i get back to that.

🍳 ) THE AI-KYŌGEN. nice little oc tag for my brats. a truly insane overabundance of girls who are crocodiles in the rivers of their own narrative, girls who are self sufficient because they were grown from seed in total darkness, boys who damn themselves and then damn the world in revenge for it, girls who wear their lives wholecloth like a costume every morning until it fits or it kills them, girls who were too young for the tasks they were trapped with and succeeded anyway, girls who died but didn’t because they only remember how to get back up. and clumbo, my orc detective.

📚 ) DEAD INTERNET. short stories, flash fiction, and other pieces i am trying to scrounge up via the wayback machine. i'm an unabashed pirate who lived off of e-begging for 5 yesrs solid and do not have the money to support authors i like. what i can do is collate every short story i've personally cared for onto an un-searchable blog and cross-index my thoughts on them here.

🧦 ) BULLDOZE VENICE. disability talk, encompassing everything from my mental health conditions / sanism to physical disability justice, marriage equality, institutional ableism, and how developmental disability is treated by the wider populace. i don't believe in "mental age" and i don't steal the terms nonverbal/nonspeaking for autistics with high support needs who suffer the most under the pseudo-aba assumptions that you can make yourself speak if needed.

🍱 ) TEXT POSTING. basically the same as my audience asides tag but for posts i personally am making to bitch about running a blog, or changes i am midway through making on this one, or polls about which of my previous tagging system sections i should port over to this blog en masse that day.

📟 ) MIXTAPE. i know i run ostensibly a sideblog for music but i do also like specific songs i want to put here and cross-reference into other tags. since the ancient websites i used to use to listen to just the songs on my rp blogs in another google chrome tab has gone totally under i will have to make that possible another way (that isn't using spotify, because i'm lazy sometimes).

🎫 ) TO REMEMBER. quotable bits that i am going to drop for years into bios. i used to try to run this as a sideblog on its own for cross-referencing but porting the entire mountain goats lyrical discography was hard and i quit. i still need somewhere to store the "spit his cum back at him like a camel" post that has haunted my dreams for a thousand years.

#🗝#♟️#💌#💎#🔏#📖#🥠#🪶#🫖#🍫#🔖#🫕#🕰️#🌪️#🍳#📚#🧦#🍱#📟#🎫

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diabolicflame93 · 1 year ago

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NTM and Ministry Ages 0-4 (Part 1)

A new retrospective series about my childhood and upbringing.

Hey, it’s N.J. here. I’m deviating from my normal content to write a bit of an autobiography series. I’ve done this in bits and pieces, but I’m working on writing about my life in a more structured format. Part of my journey towards something better for me and my life is working through childhood trauma, and through both my good and bad memories of childhood. I think I’ve always had a desire to…

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#Autobiographical #Belief #Broke My Bones to Fit Your Mold #Durham ON #Ethnos 360 #Family #Family dynamics #Hot Mulligan #Missions #New Tribes Bible Institute #New Tribes Missions #NTM #Parenting #Religion

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multifandomgirl08 · 1 year ago

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Caught [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship), Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader x Lando Norris (Platonic)

Summary: Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

Warning(s): 18+ Implied sexual content, accidental?? voyeurism (Lando)

A/N: Little deviation from the normal chapter for this series as there is no Nico. This is an out-take that I just couldn’t hold onto any longer. It does have a bit of adult content, and although this series didn't have any before it was fun to work out of my comfort zone for this while helping me cure my writer's block.

This is a scene I reference in the third social media post in Through Max's Eyes. You get to finally read what happened in Barcelona 2023 with Lando, Max, and the reader.

Words: 2.1k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Lando

After the disappointing race today Lando needed to get out of his head a bit. He had suggested to a few of the drivers about going out to a club to get drinks and blow off some steam.

He heard back from almost everyone except Max, who wasn't replying in the grid group chat. He knew that Max was probably on the phone with Y/N or talking to his son Nico after the race.

He didn't really understand how Max could manage his son, girlfriend, and career all at once.

He had asked Daniel which was Max's room number at the hotel they were all staying at. Daniel had texted him back, 331.

Lando was making his way down the hallway as the numbers kept going up.

300 - 320, on one sign 321 - 340 on another.

He followed the hallway down until he got to 330. Then on the opposite side was 331, the door was cracked open a bit, maybe Max forgot to close it all the way when he had come up after the race.

He knocked, waiting a moment, and knocked again a little louder but heard nothing back. Maybe Max was playing FIFA or had headphones on and wasn't paying attention to the door.

Lando pushed the hotel door open to walk into the room.

"Max?" He asked, his eyes scanning the room before he heard a breathy moan come from behind the open set of double doors.

This should have been Lando's cue to leave Max's hotel room and make sure to close the door behind him. But his feet pushed him on towards the sound. Maybe Max was watching a movie or something, or on the phone with Y/N. There were lots of possibilities.

He walked closer before his eyes met the empty bed. It was as if his ears had finally picked up on the sounds in the room. There was the sound of someone moaning again.

His eyes fell to the floor, shoes discarded, navy team polo by the chair in the corner, a pile of black fabric kicked off to the side. He shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the bedroom.

Lando's eyes started their ascension at the carpeted floor, scanning upwards. Black high heels and bare feet, large hands reached down to pick the girl up, before she settled her legs around the guy's waist. He could barely make out that this guy had his jeans undone. A black bra strap fell off her shoulder and started to expose her to him.

"Zo goed voor mij." He heard in Max's voice but deeper in tone. It was barely above a whisper hearing the guy tell her how good she was for him.

"Max," Lando's ears had never heard you sound like this before. Yearning, desperate. He saw what he knew were your hands moving up a broad back before a hand dropped to the band of blue denim jeans trying to push them down.

“Zo wanhopig voor mij.” There was the voice again, his understanding of Dutch catching up with him again calling her desperate, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know for what.

Being in the room watching made sights and sounds seem like two different things that blended into one another.

He watched as the guy leaned down a little kissing to tops of the woman’s breasts, he seemed to stay there for a few moments, possibly lapping at the skin with his tongue.

“Ahh.” He heard from the girl, seeing her throw her head back towards the wall. The man pulled away, reaching up to kiss the woman again.

His eyes eventually followed a delicate hand up to short brown hair, seeing a stubble-peppered cheek drop out of his view. Causing the woman to move to the right, covering both of their faces from his view. As the man pulled away from the woman and looked to his right, lips swollen and chest heaving for air.

Lando met the eyes of Max as if it fully dawned on him who he had been watching.

His eyes jumped up the wall and then back, to see Max standing there in his unbuttoned skinny-jeans, and Y/N, against the wall in nothing but heels, and her underwear with her bra straps falling down her shoulders, with her legs around Max’s waist.

"Lando?" He heard from Max, their eyes meeting for a millisecond, blue on hazel.

Lando bolted out of there, leaving his question and the ability to look Y/N in the eyes behind him. He pulled the handle of the door along with him, the loud bang made his ears ring for a few moments.

Lando rushed down the corridor, room after room not paying attention to where he was walking as he kept shaking his head at what he had just witnessed.

“Hello Lando,” He heard from Pierre and saw him standing there with Daniel.

“Lando,” Daniel said, “You okay mate?”

Lando just shook his head no again, looking down at the horrible pattern on the carpeted floor. He couldn’t tell Daniel or Pierre what he had walked into, they would never let him live it down.

“It cannot be that bad.” He heard from Pierre.

“It’s pretty bad.” He moved to lean against the wall, knocking his head into it.

“Come on, Lando.” Daniel started to say, pulling him away from the wall.

“Okay, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone else, not Charles,” He said to Pierre, “And not to Martin.” Lando pointed at Daniel. He knew that Max was close friends with Martin, and he didn’t want Martin to know that he had walked in on Max sleeping with Y/N. He didn’t think he could deal with the teasing.

They both nodded back at him. Yeah right.

“Have either of you ever walked in on your parents… you know…” He kept trailing off. He couldn’t say going at it. It felt wrong.

Pierre looked at him for a moment, and Daniel said nothing before Lando saw the recognition fill both of their faces.

“Oh, Lando did you walk in on your parents growing up or something?” Pierre teased at him.

“No!” He objected. “Not my parents…” He took his time getting the words out.

Time to break down the story in full detail.

“I went to see if Max wanted to go get drinks at the club after the race. I walked to his room to see if he was going to go, and the door was open a bit. I knocked, but no one answered, so I went in. I saw…” He trailed off. “I saw Max and Y/N going at it.”

“Lando, Y/N isn’t here. Isn’t she in New York for some work conference or something?” Daniel said. He moved to pull out his phone as if he was going to text Max and ask.

Lando reached for it to stop him.

“It was Y/N, I swear it was.” This whole thing just rubbed Lando the wrong way. Max was his friend, and Y/N was Max’s girlfriend. Lando knew that Max had sex before given that he had a kid, he just never thought he would see Max actually about to do it for himself one day.

“It’s fine, we believe you, that it was Y/N.”

“Lando.” He heard coming from down the hall. There stood Max in dark wash jeans, and a white button-up shirt, and holding his hand was Y/N in a black dress that cut off at her thighs.

Shit! Eyes to the floor, eyes to the fucking floor man.

“Lando,” He heard from Y/N. Her voice was almost motherly in tone. It just made an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” He blurted out, hanging his head. “I didn’t mean to see. It was an accident, I swear.”

He couldn’t look at either of them. Sure, Max was only older than him by two years, and Y/N was right around the same age as far as he could guess, not that he actually knew how old she was.

“It’s fine Lando, I’m sure you didn’t mean to see me and Max-” Y/N started to say.

“Going at it like rabbits,” Daniel interjected behind them.

“What are you talking about Daniel? We still had clothes on.” Max stated. Lando knew that was half a lie. Max had clothes on, and Y/N was pretty close to having nothing on. Lando couldn’t help but think back for a moment to the image that flashed across his mind, it was oddly erotic and would have been hot if he didn’t think of Y/N as a type of mother figure in his life.

“Yo, Einstein. You can’t detail a car with the cover on,” Daniel quotes to the group. Lando looked up just slightly, enough to see Pierre who looked confused.

“What do you mean, can’t detail a car?” Max asked. “I was kissing my girlfriend, Daniel, I wasn’t thinking about a car.”

“Really? The first Fast and the Furious movie. I’m disappointed in all of you.” Lando could see the happy expression fall from Daniel’s face. If it were any other time, and anything else was going on Lando would have remembered what Daniel was quoting, but as of right now he was a little too mortified to do so.

“Whatever,” Lando said, turning to Max and Y/N but didn’t make an effort to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry I walked in without making myself known. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine Lando,” Y/N said to him. “I’ll just make sure the next time I try to surprise Max; I’ll tell someone first.”

“I like your surprises,” Max said, giving her a wide, eye-crinkling smile. He pulled her into him, and Lando dropped his eyes to the floor once again. Too soon.

“So… Drinks? Bar?” Daniel asked. Pierre nodded, and Lando followed quickly after. Max and Y/N however said nothing. The sounds of kissing quickly became audible to his ears.

“Max, mate.” Daniel started to say. “Maybe keep the necking in public to a min. We’ve got young eyes here.” Lando could feel Daniel’s hand on his shoulder after he said that. He knew that Daniel was just teasing him a bit, but he still didn’t like it.

“I’m not that young.” He fired back at Daniel.

“Uh yeah, you are, if you caught these two about to go at it and ran away.” Lando couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was never going to be able to live this down, was he?

“Have you?” Pierre asked as they walked down the hall towards the elevators leaving the couple behind.

“Have I what?” Daniel asked. Lando barely looked up to see Max and Y/N walking further down the hall in the opposite direction back towards Max’s room with a short wave given to all of them.

“Caught them, about to…” Lando trailed off again, he still couldn’t say it.

“Let’s just put it this way, when they want a date night. I’m the first person that they call.”

Sometimes Lando forgot how close Max and Daniel were. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my godson but sometimes Max needs to learn to call in advance instead of the day of.”

“So, you haven’t caught them then?” Lando couldn’t help but ask. Them wanting date night together was one thing, but that wasn’t what Pierre had asked.

“No, I have.” It almost sounded like there was a bit of mischief in Daniel’s voice. “Trust me mate, you were lucky that you walked in when you did because if it was after that, you would have been scarred for life.”

Lando widened his eyes at that. So, Daniel was keeping all of the truly gory details to himself. He knew more, so much more, and maybe he promised Max that he wouldn’t tell anyone what they truly got up to in their spare time.

“Was Max running his mouth?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, back to Daniel.

“Like praising her, in Dutch?” He couldn’t help but nod at Daniel’s question. He was a little curious if he could get more information out of him.

“A bit.” He choked out.

“Good on ya, that you didn’t stick around.” Daniel slapped the back of Lando’s shoulder. “Come on, once we’re down at the bar, I’ll get you a drink. You need it after all you’ve gone through today.”

Lando tried not to think further about what he just heard. Obviously at some point in time Daniel had walked in on Max and Y/N and had a very different reaction then him.

He followed Daniel and Pierre down to the bar, letting Daniel order him something strong that would hopefully make the last 6 hours or so disappear, at least for a while.

Translation(s):

Zo goed voor mij. - So good for me.

Zo wanhopig voor mij. - So desperate for more.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #mv1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #f1 x reader

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lycheedr3ams · 2 years ago

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ℑ𝔩𝔩 𝔐𝔢𝔱 𝔟𝔶 𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

werewolf!könig x fem!reader

Prologue | October 29th | October 30th | October 31st

Summary: You're a bakery worker in the small, isolated town of Heiligenblut, Austria. könig is a hunter and lumberjack who stays to himself and always has an aura of mystery and darkness. and through a series of strange circumstances, you're the one to uncover his secret. (set in the modern-day) CW: like all of my fanfics reader is fem she/her, adult content, predator/prey dynamics, werewolf-fucking, mentions of animal carcasses and blood, a bit unsettling at times. (can't think of anything else atm, this might count as dark content? not sure) WC: 2.2k

LORE EXPLANATION, READ BEFORE PROCEEDING: i had to make up some of my own werewolf lore mixed with real world history, so plz bear with me: when a werewolf falls in love with someone, and that person also falls for them, the werewolf becomes spiritually tied to this person. when this spiritual connection is created, the werewolf's ties to the spiritual realms are interrupted. the werewolf must physically bond with the person whom the feelings are mutual with to restore the werewolf's connection to the other realms. Halloween is the day when that veil between our world and the spiritual one is thinned, allowing for connections to take place. this is why people always wore costumes: to scare off the ghosts that came onto our plane during this time. i can't say anything else without spoiling it, just know most of this is NOT from folklore, i just made up my own werewolf lore bc plot~

morning

your routine walk to work on this chilly and dewy morning was interrupted by a crowd of townspeople in the main square. people from all regions of town were there, but the ones who were talking the most fervently were the farmers. they were standing in the middle of the crowd, waving their hands and not looking very happy. you removed your earbuds as you approached the crowd.

"what's going on?" you asked the woman who used to be your elementary school teacher. she glanced at you for a moment before locking her eyes on the farmer.

"there's been no prey harvested at all for the festival. the hunter hasn't brought in anything, and the farmers haven't been able to catch anything either."

your lips parted slightly in shock, and you were about to ask more questions when another farmer started talking loudly, commanding everyone's attention. "everyone is going to have to give up one of their largest and two of their smallest livestock for the festival tomorrow!"

the townspeople around him shouted in protest, and among all the voices that could be heard, the most shouted message was that they couldn't rely on the hunter anymore.

your blood ran cold. was könig even safe? surely they wouldn't revolt against him for just one failed harvest season? but your thoughts were interrupted by farmers arguing and some people going home, not wanting to hear anymore of it. you watched everyone as if from afar, like you were dreaming, until you felt like you were being watched. it was the same feeling you felt the day before when könig had stared at you. you were snapped back to reality as you turned around and stared straight into the dark forest, but there was no one there.

...

mid-afternoon

almost no one had come into the bakery today, and it was already 3pm. but there was barely any movement of townspeople outside your window. normally, the day before the festival, everyone would be pitching in to help cook, set up tables, and decorate, but it was eerily still. a few people pattered here and there, carrying some vegetables and tablecloths, but it was nothing like how it usually is. the prey was supposed to be cooking by now. that's how it went, every year. that's how it was supposed to go. things never deviated here. they were never supposed to.

you paced around the bakery for almost your entire shift. all of the baking for the festival was pretty much done, and everyone had bought the things they needed. there was too much time for your mind to wander. and in the middle of your rumination, you remembered that könig had never come for the bread he meant to pick up yesterday. you decided to pack up some bread - an extra loaf too, when your boss wasn't looking - and set it underneath the counter, just waiting for when you expected him to walk through the door and look at you with those alluring, dark eyes of his that scared off everyone else.

...

early evening

but closing time came and went, and könig did not show. when your boss wasn't looking, you put cash in the register for the bread that was supposed to be könig's and shoved it into your backpack. you had made up your mind: one way or another, you were going to find könig, give him his bread, and find out what was going on with him.

you tried not to look overly determined as you walked around town trying to find his house. you knew he didn't live within town, since no one had ever seen him enter or leave a nearby building. you tried not to attract the attention of the now restless townspeople as you scoped the perimeter woods of town. but you saw nothing so far on your walk home, so you stopped to change into more outdoor-friendly clothes before slipping away when you were sure no one would notice.

you had no idea which direction of the forest to explore first, so you went towards the most secluded part there was. underneath the canopies of the large, old trees, the forest felt so much cooler than the clearing the town was in. you rubbed your arms as you walked, clearly looking lost. there were no paths to be seen - not even faint deer paths - to guide you. the forest looked completely untouched, but you kept moving forward, remembering what direction the sun was in to get you home.

you wandered around, looking for any signs of life, and almost gave up to go back home when you leaned against a tree trunk to rest and felt deep grooves within its bark. you lifted your hand from the bark and found three deep gashes in the bark, about 2 inches deep. the sharp, straight edges of the cuts suggested that it was a claw mark. but what kind of animal that large could be in the forest? you began to feel even more afraid than you already were. you turned around and almost started charging back home through the forest when you saw a faint cloud of fog just beyond a stream. you followed the fog, slipped over some mossy rocks while trying to cross the stream, and found an old, mossy cabin in the middle of the forest.

you stared at it for a moment, trying to see if anyone was inside without getting too close. but the windows were shut with curtains, and there were no signs of life aside from the fog resting just above the ground around it, likely from the fireplace inside. if it weren't for that fog, you would think the cabin to be abandoned.

you heard a stick crack far in the forest and nearly jumped out of your skin. when you turned to see what it was, you rather saw how dark it had gotten without you noticing. without many other options, you had to swallow your fear and knock on the cabin door.

you knocked a few times, and no answer. so you knocked again. and again. it was getting darker, and you were getting very nervous. you finally decided to try to speak through the door. "i'm not sure who lives here, but i'm lost and it's getting dark."

the door opened, and you were looking up at a very tired and angry-looking könig. you breathlessly gasped at his disheveled appearance. he was never fine-groomed to begin with, but this was dirty even for him. his hair wasn't half-way combed like usual, his bandana was slightly ripped and dirty, there was mud caked to portions of his forearms where his plaid shirt was ripped. könig looked at you with narrowed eyes for a moment before pulling you inside roughly by your arm. you nearly stumbled as he threw you inside, unaware of his own strength.

"what the hell are you doing here?" könig asked angrily. "the woods aren't safe at night! the hell were you thinking?" he nearly growled.

you tried not to shrink at his tone and the sheer power he always seemed to ooze. you cleared your throat. "you never came for the bread you wanted yesterday." you took your backpack off your shoulder and reached for the bread inside. you took the white paper bag and handed it to him nervously. the crinkling of the bag nearly echoed in the eerie silence of the cabin. könig stared at the bag, looked up at your eyes, and then back down at the bread.

"you came looking for me just to give me bread?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. you sighed.

"first, you're welcome," you got a little closer to him to try to give him the bread. he backed away enough for you to notice, but he took the bread when you tilted your head in confusion. "second, i just wanted to make sure everything was okay. the whole town is in a bit of a crisis about the halloween festival tomorrow, and it's unlike you to not have a harvest."

"did you tell anyone you were coming out here?" he asked quickly.

you shook your head. "no. i made sure no one saw me."

könig thought for a long moment as he held the bread bag, now dwarfed by his large hands. he turned and set the bag down on a table. he splayed his palms over the table and leaned down, his back to you. "you need to leave."

you stood still for a moment, not sure how to react to his demeanor. this whole experience - him living in this weird cabin deep in the forest, being all secretive - was unlike anything you had ever been through. you took a deep breath and managed to find your voice. "well, you're welcome for the bread. but i can't walk home alone at night in the woods."

könig cursed under his breath. he took a shaky breath in, still facing away from you. his voice sounded strained. "how did you find my cabin?"

"i just...walked. i got lost a bunch of times. but i saw some fog from this direction."

könig cursed under his breath again. he began to pace the cabin, his hiking boots making dull impact sounds as he tread the wooden floor. he muttered under his breath as he paced.

"könig?" you asked as you tried to lean within his line of sight. his eyes sharply looked down at you as you wrenched him from his thoughts. "please tell me what's going on. maybe i can help."

könig made a sound that was half-grunt half-scoff when his eyes met yours. "you cannot help. not in ways you want to."

"what?" you asked, confused. "i want to help you. just tell me how."

könig crossed his arms as he looked down at you, his feet in line with his shoulders, standing square and tall before you. your heart started racing, but whether out of nervousness or desire you couldn't tell. all you knew was that every nerve in your body was active when he looked down at you like that, making you feel so small - in the best way - beneath him.

"why did you come out here all the way just to give me bread?" könig asked with a flat voice and neutral expression. "it was completely unnecessary."

you inwardly winced, but you got used to his less than refined manner of speech long ago. this man was anything but subtle. "you're right. it was unnecessary. but i wanted to."

könig narrowed his eyes. "and why did you want to?"

you blushed and fell silent. was he seriously trying to make you confess right here, right now? you were so afraid of rejection, even though all the signs hinted that he liked you. but you couldn't talk yourself out of this one, so you took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "because I have feelings for you."

könig's eyes grew wide, and his previously squared shoulders drifted upwards as he tensed up. you rubbed your forearm while you looked away from him.

"listen, i know you probably don't feel the same way, and that's fine. but you've just been so secretive that i was worried about you, and i know you love your bread. and i don't know why no one in the town talks to you, because you're actually nice to be around. and..." you blushed when you saw his shocked expression. "and I should probably stop talking..." you sighed, feeling more embarrassed than you ever have. your cheeks heated up as you looked at anything but the looming giant before you.

"you are wrong," he said quietly after a long pause.

you looked up at him, your eyes widening with confusion. "what?"

könig took a deep breath and seemed to regain the confident pose that he had before, almost as if he had some renewed vigor. "i said, you are wrong."

"wrong about what?" you said, slightly panicked.

könig looked down at you with an unreadable expression. "your feelings for me... are returned."

you froze, your breath stopped for a moment. "you feel the same way?" your heart hammered. this whole experience had been so equally ethereal and eerie that you weren't sure if you were hearing things at this point.

könig slowly closed the distance between you two, his arms returning to his sides. you looked up at him, feeling a bit jumpy; he had been so unpredictable this whole night. he placed his large hands on your shoulders, engulfing each one, and gently pressed his fingers into you. his attempt at holding you close, maybe? but his arms seemed to tremble, and his breathing was shaky and loud, almost like he was a crazed man. you leaned away a little, but könig brought his masked mouth to your hear.

"please," he whispered desperately into your ear, his voice slightly cracking. his entire body trembled before you. "please help me."

i wanted to get this all out before halloween, but i've had a ridiculous amount of schoolwork. the last part will be coming out this weekend, and it will be the long-awaited smut chapter! i hope you guys are enjoying. i love werewolf!könig.

some people expressed interest in a taglist. i tried to find their usernames, but i get so many notifications that it got lost. i'm sorry!!! i'm going to figure out how i can get a signup sheet for a taglist for my whole blog here soon

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cheriecoke · 2 years ago

Text

piece of cake

FEATURING. nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 9.8k

SUMMARY: nanami can't help but notice your strange behavior, and he begins to grow suspicious (aka you throw him a surprise birthday party)

CONTENTS: sorcerer!reader, nanami's bday, husband nanami, reader & nanami povs, gojo being the bestest friend, also everyone loves nanamin!! very very light angst, slight misunderstandings, and ofc nanami being the love of my life. sfw!!!

note: this ended up way longer than i intended! the ending is a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish it before his birthday ended. i love this sweet man so much :(

Nanami didn’t want to be that kind of man.

He knew that letting his thoughts wander into accusations were a one-way ticket to unfounded miscommunication. It was senseless to even go there; coming up with wild solutions that he couldn’t back up would only cause problems that didn’t need to happen in the first place.

With his whole heart, Nanami trusted you. He loved you, and he had never doubted that you felt the same. Honesty was important, and you were both mature enough to understand that communication was the only way to make a relationship work.

He reminded himself of that whenever his mind was clouded with uncertainty.

There was still a small twinge of doubt that wouldn’t leave him alone, and day after day, it became more and more difficult to convince himself that he wasn’t concerned. Every time he tried to speak with you about your strange behavior, you’d talked him into circles, bringing him right back to the beginning of the question like he’d never asked it at all.

Nanami tried to tell himself he was creating something out of nothing, but for weeks, you’d been coming home late, you were always on the phone, and he would have been an optimist or an idiot if he truly believed you weren’t hiding something.

When he really put his mind to it, he could stop himself from coming to unfathomable conclusions. You’d never given him reason to doubt you, even if your behavior had become suspicious as of late.

What he couldn’t diminish was the deeply buried fear that, maybe, you wanted someone more than him.

The entire mess had started just a month ago, when he’d stumbled into the lounge at the high school, a book tucked under his arm and a coffee in his hand. Lunch hour had just ended.

Nanami visited you at the school often, and at this time, you were almost always training Maki, or switching off a class with another sorcerer. Your schedule rarely deviated, and if you weren’t in the middle of teaching, it was because they’d needed you elsewhere.

So, of course, he was surprised to see you were doing neither of those things. Instead, you were in the lounge with Gojo, talking in hushed voices while you stood strangely close to one another.

Your back was turned towards the door when Nanami entered, and you gesticulated wildly with your hands. Between your speed and the low volume of your voice, Nanami couldn’t catch a word of what you were saying. It was obvious that you were excited, and Gojo leaned up against the back counter with an indulgent smile, placing his fingertips to his chin thoughtfully.

Nanami wasn’t sure whether or not to announce his presence, so he let the door slam shut behind him, breaking up your enigmatic conversation.

You whipped around in surprise, your eyes wide. In a similar manner, Gojo’s head darted up like he had no idea Nanami had entered at all. The scene would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been so unfamiliar.

“Nanamin!” Gojo stumbled around the first syllable of his name before recovering smoothly, smiling that cheeky grin of his. “When did you get in? I thought your assignment wasn’t until later this afternoon?”

As Nanami slid into the room, he glanced between you and Gojo with pinched eyebrows, attempting to ignore his unusually awkward behavior. Gojo slid across the countertop, slowly inching away from you until he hit the edge.

“Kento!” you said, in a voice that was much squeakier than your normal tone as you shattered the silence. “You’re here early.”

Nanami had long since given up on trying to understand Gojo Satoru’s behavior, but you were a different case entirely. Your smile was lopsided and uncomfortable, and you wiped your hands on your sides like you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or glad to see him. His features pinched tighter, and he shook off the nasty voice of mistrust that threatened to cloud his logical mind. “I’ve been asked to take Itadori with me today. Apparently, someone’s been telling the principal that I’m a good influence on him.” He took off his glasses, meeting your eyes pointedly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

You smiled sheepishly, drawing closer to him like a magnet. As you left Gojo’s side to stand beside Nanami, that sharp coil of irritation within him released. The lines in his forehead smoothed, and everything was just as it should be.

“I had nothing to do with this,” you said with a small shrug, fixing the tie that was already straight, as if looking for a reason to touch him. “What would make you think that?”

Nanami rolled his eyes at you, knowing you’d had everything to do with it, and gave you an exasperated smile.

You released his lapels shortly after to check the time and frowned when you realized how late it had gotten. “I have to go.” You pecked him on the cheek with a grin, and though Gojo was watching from behind the dark blindfold, Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care. “Maki’s meeting me soon, and I don’t want to make her wait. See you later, Kento.”

He squeezed your hand, the action almost imperceptible as you waved to the other man over your shoulder. “Bye, Gojo.”

Gojo returned the action, his lips pulled together playfully as he returned his focus to Nanami. Although he’d seen the two of you together on numerous occasions, his favorite pastime was teasing the younger man about any sign of affection.

Nanami sighed, suspecting that he’d have to tolerate Gojo for the next half-hour until Itadori was back. He took a long sip of coffee that scalded his throat and sat down on the couch.

The silence lasted until Gojo crept unfortunately closer, lurking like a cat until Nanami huffed, the sign of irritation that Gojo had been waiting for. The white-haired man drew out Nanami’s name like a song, and then plopped himself down on the chair across from him, blabbering on about things that Nanami really didn’t want to listen to.

When he realized five minutes had passed without Gojo even taking a breath, he gritted his teeth, and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t realize you were such good friends with my wife.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth. Nanami had known that you’d gotten closer to Gojo since you’d started working for the school part-time, but you talked about him about as often as you talked about your other colleagues. About as much as Nanami talked about Gojo.

You’d never made it seem like he was the type of person you swapped secrets with in the lounge while everyone else was off on a break.

“Really?” Gojo drew out the word dramatically, his mouth curling into a pout. “I’d say we’re good friends, actually.” He tipped his head back, leaning against the chair with uncharacteristic seriousness. “We mostly talk about you, though. I know you better than I know her.”

“That’s a shame.” Nanami flipped the page, finishing the last bit of his coffee, and feigned irritation, even if he was warmed by the thought of you talking about him so much. “She’s much more interesting than me.”

Gojo laughed, and it seemed to be genuine. Nanami began to grow frightened that he might actually be roped into an actual, amicable conversation with the man.

“Aww,” he cooed sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Nanamin. I know you’re probably worried we’ll become better friends, but you were my friend first.”

Nanami glanced up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Trust me, I’m really not worried about that.” He kicked his leg out, the beginnings of a headache forming in his temple. “I’m more concerned that she’ll invite you over for dinner. I’d like to refrain from any interactions with you outside of work.”

Gojo made a face and then whined dramatically. “You’re so mean to me.” He wiped a hand over his eyes like he was shedding tears.

Nanami sighed.

A few days later, when he took Itadori out for another training session, he began asking Nanami too many questions about his personal life. That fact wasn’t as suspicious as it was frustrating. He couldn’t help that Itadori was curious, but he could’ve asked him these things on the ride over, or while they were at the school.

Invasive questions in the middle of a potential life or death situation were not exactly ones Nanami wanted to tolerate.

“So… what kind of places do you like to shop?”

The question was completely unrelated to his lesson and completely out of the blue. Nanami stopped, eyeing the teenager with undisguised skepticism. “Itadori. I’m not answering that kind of question when we’re in the middle of something serious.” He thought about his words, and quickly rephrased them. “Actually, I’m not answering that question at all.”

Itadori stared back, his face falling theatrically. Nanami could’ve guessed from that expression alone that he’d been spending far too much time with Gojo. “Fine.” He relented, drawing out the word as he scurried to catch up with Nanami, who was already paces ahead.

He let a few minutes pass before his next question.

“Where are your favorite places to eat?”

Nanami closed his eyes to regain his patience. “I’m not answering that either.”

A huff of disappointment. “Well, can I ask about your favorite—”

“No.”

Itadori’s glower turned into something more like a realistic frowny face. Nanami tried to refrain from snapping at him in order to regain his focus. “What can I ask?”

“Anything that you will gain valuable insight from.” Itadori opened his mouth, and Nanami quickly sensed his next words. “Insight that isn’t about me.”

He deflated once more. “Okay, fine.” For a few more moments, he surrendered, letting the conversation stall. Nanami should’ve known better than to expect peace and quiet for long. “So… what days will you be going on assignments? Do you have like… a set schedule, or do you usually get called in?”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, hearing the creak of a floorboard upstairs. There were curses nearby, and if Itadori continued yammering on without paying attention, that would spell a lot of trouble for him and the kid. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m just curious.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you now isn’t the time.”

Itadori opened his mouth, but then seemed to register the sound of cursed spirits, and he finally sobered his attention. His expression changed to one of seriousness, and, thankfully, he let the topic go.

After a particularly stressful mission, Nanami went to the bakery that the two of you frequented, the one that had been the site of many of your dates throughout the years.

It was a quiet little café at the edge of the city, a perfect middle-ground between your home and the school. When he’d been working in the office, and you were still a sorcerer, you’d met him there on numerous occasions, usually bruised and battered, but never without a beautiful smile.

He stretched his back behind him as he headed through the door, his clothes dirtied from fighting and his hair in disarray. It was barely afternoon, and he was already exhausted, wanting just to go home and curl in bed to await your return.

It was a small daydream that would carry him through his last few hours of working, so long as no cursed spirits popped up in his vicinity of patrolling. There seemed to be more and more lately, and if he wasn’t being called off to go fight, then you were, leaving no time for either of you to be with each other.

As he crossed the threshold, another man was exiting, seemingly in a big hurry and carrying a coffee that he almost splashed all over Nanami’s chest.

Reeling in his irritation, Nanami began a polite, “Excuse me,” before realizing who had nearly trampled over him. “Gojo. What are you doing here.”

“What a coincidence seeing you here,” Gojo greeted with a wide grin, like he wasn’t the one infiltrating one of Nanami’s sacred, headache-free spaces.

Nanami cringed, looking at the coffee in Gojo’s hand and the white pastry bag, immediately recognizing the contents. It was your favorite drink, the dessert you got once a week; you’d been ordering the same thing for the past two months, always getting hooked on new things before you eventually tired of them. He knew the order by heart.

“Sorry, I really wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve got important goods to deliver.” He held up the bag and the cup, a receipt folded up between his fingers. Bitterly, Nanami noticed he hadn’t bought anything for himself. For someone with such a sweet tooth, it seemed hard to believe that he’d refrained from indulging.

Which, Nanami concluded with annoyance, meant that he’d come specifically for you. He checked his watch, pushing away the negative emotions. Even though you could’ve called him if you wanted something, like you always did, you’d asked Gojo instead. “She’s not on a break?”

“Some students wanted her help with some things. I told her I didn’t mind getting her something if she wanted to take a break later this afternoon.” Gojo flattened his blindfold over his eyes, the material bunching up around his nose. “Everyone’s out today, anyway.”

“I see,” Nanami said, hating the unnecessary sting in his chest. You knew he’d been working, and even though he told you where he was going, you probably hadn’t seen the message. If you were busy, then he couldn’t expect you to be checking your phone. “Well, tell her I said hello, then.”

“Will do,” Gojo saluted cartoonishly and flitted out the door, smiling with a kind of glee that Nanami, stupidly, wanted to wipe off his face.

Those separate incidents with Gojo had annoyed him, of course, but he knew they weren’t anything to get worked up about. In fact, he’d almost forgotten about the interactions entirely, until another week passed and Nanami slowly started to wonder if you spent more time with the white-haired man than the one you were in a relationship with.

You’d woken up before him that morning, and Nanami opened his eyes to a colder bed and the sound of hushed music softly playing from behind the bathroom door.

It was a cooler day for June. You’d opened the window, and there were dark clouds gathering in the sky, a sign that it was going to storm any time now. He stretched his stiff back, padding to the hallway, where he could see the light coming from the bathroom, the door cracked open. The smell of your perfume wafted through, and Nanami had half a sense to drag you back to the bed and keep you there until the weekend was over.

He pushed the door open further, leaning against the threshold to watch you swipe pink gloss over your puckered lips. Your makeup was freshly powdered, your hair done up in its usual manner.

Nanami smiled, leaning against the door frame as he watched you finish getting ready. “Where are you going this morning, pretty girl?”

You blinked at him through the mirror, putting the tube of lip gloss back in the bag before turning to him with a smile. You looked so sweet, and he yearned for you, almost in disbelief that you’d been together for so long. “I’m taking the kids shopping in the city with Gojo today.” You wrapped your arms around his stomach, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I’ll be home before dinner. Want me to cook tonight?”

Nanami brushed your cheek, feeling that annoying wave of irritation return to claw at him. He didn’t care that you were spending time with Gojo—he shouldn’t care. Your students would be there too, and you’d been happier ever since you started working at the school. The first and second years cared about you so much already, and Gojo was a much less annoying friend to you than he was to Nanami.

He liked seeing you so happy, despite the toll that the job often took on you. “Don’t worry about it. We need to pick up groceries, anyway. I’ll do that while you’re out.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. Although you’d meant for it to be quick, Nanami had wrapped an arm around your lower back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss. He ruined your lipstick, smearing it all over his mouth, but he didn’t care.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, holding you close to him.

“I’m still in my pajamas.” You laughed, your cheeks growing warm as you drew away from him, teasingly dodging his final kiss. “Are you sure you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll probably miss you too much.” As you fixed your lipstick, Nanami went back to the bedroom, rifling through his coat pocket for his wallet. He tossed the gold card on the bathroom counter, where your purse was laying.

You eyed him over your shoulder. “No.”

He stared back, just as seriously. “Yes. Buy yourself something nice, sweetheart.” He thought of the young teenager he’d been mentoring, who’d been putting in his best effort, and who he’d, unfortunately, come to care about quite a lot. “Itadori too. Just don’t tell him it’s from me.”

You blinked, before your expression changed into something so bright, Nanami would’ve done everything in his power to keep it there. “I knew you liked him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With an affection so full that it threatened to burst out of your chest, you jumped towards him, wrapping yourself up in his arms. He kissed your temple and breathed, remembering just how much he didn’t want to lose you.

You were true to your word, always. You came back when you promised, you told him where you were going, but Nanami noticed that you’d been even more secretive since you went shopping with Gojo and your students. When he asked your plans, you were even more vague. When you didn’t return with any shopping bags, he found it odd that you smelled of a cologne he didn’t wear.

He reminded himself of how much he trusted you—he really, really didn’t think you would lie to him, but he couldn’t deny that your behavior was confusing him.

Nanami finished off his tea, eyes across the room as he watched you type wildly on your phone, your brows crinkled. You sent a message then waited for a response, impatiently pacing across the kitchen.

He called your name, but you didn’t respond, too enraptured in whatever it was that you were doing. You seemed to be attached to your cell phone these days, always having a call to respond to, and always jumping when he was a little too close to seeing your messages.

Yesterday, Gojo’s name had popped up on your screen with a message, and you’d crawled across Nanami’s lap to get the phone before he could even think to hand it to you. Nanami had done nothing but stare back at you, and you’d smiled at him, embarrassed, still hiding the screen from him as you read the message.

He really, really didn’t want to jump to conclusions. But these days, you were spending all your free time with Gojo, and you grew defensive every time he tried to bring it up.

“Are you done with the tea?” Nanami asked again, piling up the dirty dishes from where he sat, noticing your cup was still half-full, but lukewarm.

You chewed your thumbnail anxiously, bouncing your leg as you waited for the person on the other end to reply. The phone shook in your hands, and you read through it again, obviously disappointed by the short response. He could’ve guessed who you were talking to, even if he didn’t want to.

Nanami frowned and called your name one more time. Finally, you looked up.

“What?” you asked, and then came to understand his question. The tea sat, unenjoyed, and shame marred your features. “Oh. I’m sorry. No, I’m not finished.” You frowned, tucking the phone back into your pocket before rushing over to your seat. “I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, and Nanami stared, waiting for you to finish your explanation, even though you let it die there. “It’s been busy at work.”

Nanami hated how easily he could tell you were lying. He sighed, rubbing his temples as your phone rang again. This time, though, you kept it in your pocket.

It had been like that for the past couple of days. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with any possible explanation other than the most distressing one.

“Kento?” you asked in a small voice, noting his obvious discontent. “Is everything alright?”

He looked up at you, your eyes so wide and full of concern, and even if he wanted to be mad at you, he couldn’t. His chin fell, arms resting limply at his sides as you looked back at him, waiting for a response. “Is everything alright with you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, shifting where you stood. “Just busy. Like I said.”

The two of you stared at each other, waiting for the other to say what they really wanted to. Never once in your life had you had a problem with communicating, but it felt like now, you were hitting a wall.

All he could do was try his best. If you didn’t want to answer him, he couldn’t make you.

“Okay,” he said, taking your hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed your palm, then the inside of your wrist, before massaging the center of it. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep secrets from me. If anything…” he steadied himself for his next words. “If anything changes between us, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Your eyebrows creased, before understanding seemed to dawn upon you. “Kento,” you said, dropping his hand to come around the table to climb into his lap, placing your hands on both of his cheeks. “Kento, no.”

“You’ve just been a bit—”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and he couldn’t help but draw back into you, smile when you kissed him all over his face, pressing the affirmations into his skin. “I’m not trying to be distant, really. Things are just busy right now, I promise.” You curled your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and Nanami brought his arms around your hips, settling you on his thighs.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.” His eyes softened at your frown, and he brushed his thumb under your shirt, grounding himself against your skin. “I love you.”

That put a smile back on your face, and you kissed him, whispering the same words against his lips.

Now, though he wasn’t so sure he believed what you were saying, as much as he wanted to. Maybe you were just busy at work, but you were certainly hiding something from him.

He knew that everyone had their secrets, but maybe it would’ve stung less if you’d just admitted you were hiding something from him.

The following week was the same routine, and as the workdays ended, Nanami saw you less and less each evening. You spent the majority of your time in the city center, and though you were often with your students, you were also with Gojo, and something about that fact was difficult to swallow.

Nanami felt a little sour that you never asked him to go too. He began to wonder if you were purposefully avoiding him, or if the students disliked him as much as he’d thought they did.

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, and he didn’t want to be overbearing, to seem like he was the kind of man who wanted to control where you were going and spending your time with. He just wished you spared a little bit more of it for him, was all.

He woke with that thought in his mind as he rolled over on the cold bed, reaching out to wrap his arms around you. When he realized the spot beside him was empty, he blinked himself awake wearily, adjusting his eyes to the dark.

The hall light was on, a yellow glow peeking through the cracks under the door, and he frowned as he heard the sound of your voice, low and hushed.

Nanami weighed his decision. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and though you often went to bed much later than him, a phone call at this time was pushing it. He climbed out of the bed, padding quietly over the door to see if he could catch a part of the conversation.

It felt like a breach of trust, and he didn’t want to seem like he was spying on you.

He pressed his ear to the door, waiting for your voice, though it was silent. Half a minute passed. His hands curled around the knob, and he shouldn’t be trying to listen in, he should just go out there and ask you if anything was wrong, and then—

“Gojo, I don’t know what to tell him.”

Nanami stopped, swallowing down his breath to still all noises from his body. He squeezed his fist tighter until his knuckles had gone pale, hearing you murmur under your breath. There were a lot of words he couldn’t catch, and he wrinkled his forehead, trying to catch a hint of context in what you were saying.

“I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out—”

Your voice dropped quiet again.

Nanami felt something fall in his chest as he released the doorknob. He was too tired to think about it rationally, and if he listened anymore, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

He stepped away from the door, his lips etched permanently into a frown.

After Kento had fallen asleep, you’d grabbed your phone off the nightstand, going through the to-do list that you’d created for his birthday.

You hadn’t meant for it to get so out-of-hand. He didn’t usually like big celebrations, and he’d never made a big deal of his birthday in the past. Though in your eyes, that was exactly why you needed to do something different for him this year.

Things had been going so well, and from what you could tell, everyone in your close circle cared about him more than he realized. It was the only way you could think to show that to him.

You’d just wanted to do something special for him, and it had turned into long shopping trips with Satoru Gojo, and secretive meetings with your students to make sure everything went exactly as you’d planned it.

And things were going according to plan… Only, you were starting to feel like your attempts at secrecy were sabotaging your relationship, and you feared that Kento thought the worst of your late nights out and your newly formed friendship with Gojo.

It was obvious that you were lying, and every time he brought it up, he seemed to become even more doubtful of your actions.

You flipped the hallway light on, dialing Gojo’s number, feeling antsy in your own skin. After two rings, he answered, his voice groggy and obviously full of sleep.

“Hello?”

“Gojo,” you said in a panic, rubbing your hand over your face with a kind of distress that he couldn’t even see. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

A beat of silence as he gathered his thoughts. “What?”

You almost felt bad for waking him up, but part of this was his fault. He’d been insistent on being a part of the plan, and now, he needed to listen to your apprehensions about the entire situation. He hadn’t exactly been sneaky either.

“Kento.” you said, pacing back and forth in the hallway, your voice rising to a high-pitched shriek, even as you tried to muffle your words. “He’s been asking me so many questions, and I’m so bad at coming up with answers. I’m seeming like a horrible person.”

Gojo hummed on the other line, and you hated how nonchalant he seemed about all of this. This was your relationship, and he was just sitting happily in his home, with the receipt for a cake that had cost way too much, and gifts for a man that had started to doubt you even cared about him at all. “Well…”

“Gojo,” you said his name again, sternly.

“Sorry.” He sighed. “Nanami’s a tough person to keep a secret from. Just keep telling him what you’ve been telling him: we’ve been assigned to more cases together, work is too busy, et cetera, et cetera. That’s fine.”

“But he knows that’s not true.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration prickling at you. Either Kento was much too perceptive for his own good, or you were just awful at planning surprises. “I’m being too suspicious. I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out, then all the secrecy would have been for nothing.”

Gojo was silent on the other end of the other line. It seemed he was absolutely horrible at consoling you, unlike the man in the other room who was sleeping soundly, unbeknownst to the fact that you were doing this all for him. “Look, it’s only for a couple more days, right? You can keep the secret until then, can’t you?”

You swallowed, steeling yourself for one last week of misery. You weren’t sure you could continue to stand the look of disappointment on Kento’s face every time you did something out of character. “I guess so. Thanks.” You yawned, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.” He hung up, and you stared at the phone once more, trudging back into the other room.

You couldn’t help the guilt that had settled deep in your gut. Even if you were lying to Kento for something special, you knew how it looked on your end. You weren’t good at dispelling his accusations; every time you opened your mouth, you just incriminated yourself more.

You couldn’t wait until his birthday. Things would go back to normal, then, and he could finally see that everyone cared about him more deeply than he realized.

Rubbing your eyes with exhaustion, you crawled back into the space where you always slept. Although, this time, you realized Kento was not asleep like you’d left him but was blinking back at you with concern in his dark eyes.

You jumped, startled for a moment, before settling back down. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay.” He grasped your hand tightly, and you let him, let him drag you close in his arms as he curled around you. “Is something wrong?”

You tensed, and immediately realized that was a mistake. Fuck. You were so horrible at this. You should’ve just let Gojo and Itadori plan the entire thing, and maybe it would’ve been a disaster, but it also would’ve saved you a lot of unnecessary anxiety. “Everything’s fine.”

That didn’t exactly answer his question. Nanami turned on his side, the two of you staring face to face on the pillows. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, his eyes darting to each one of yours like he was trying to decipher a message. Then, he sighed. “Was… someone calling?”

“Just Gojo.”

“Gojo?” Nanami repeated, and though he seemed annoyed at the mention of him, at least he knew you were being honest about that. “Why the hell is Gojo calling you in the middle of the night?”

You blinked, realizing you actually had no good lie to cover that one. “Umm…” you played with Nanami’s hand, tracing the tendons and knuckles as he stared back at you patiently. “He wanted to know if I could cover for him in the morning. He’s… not feeling so well.”

You’d have to text him immediately so that he didn’t come to the school until later. Not that he would mind skipping out on a few hours of work, but even that didn’t seem to convince Kento. He opened his mouth, and shut it, as if trying to carefully put his words together. “That’s all?”

He said it in a way that made you think he was giving you an opening, like you had the option to tell him the truth if you wanted. Of course, you couldn’t reveal what you were hiding, but he didn’t know that.

You sighed, and smiled, kissing him as you curled your hands into his hair. “That’s all, Ken. I really am sorry I woke you up.”

Nanami stared back at you for a moment before forcing a smile, returning your kiss with all his fondness. He brushed your hair away from your face and kissed your cheeks before closing his eyes once more.

When the day of Nanami’s birthday arrived, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t panic if everything wasn’t perfect. He’d appreciate the sentiment, no matter what. Things didn’t have to go by the book for them to be meaningful.

Regardless, you went through your mental to-do sheet, made the final reservation for your dinner, and prayed that everything went as you intended.

Though you were usually not a morning person, you’d gotten up earlier than Kento to fix his coffee the way he always preferred, taking a quiet moment to still your excited nerves. When his usual alarm went off, at the same time every morning, you carried the mug back with you to the bedroom and smiled softly at his sleepy form.

You set the coffee down before he could fully gain consciousness, and sprang on top of him, peppering kisses all over his face until his surprise slowly melted, and he was hugging you tightly.

“Happy birthday.”

Kento smiled up at you groggily, his eyes still drooping with sleep as he curled a hand around your jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, hugging you tight as he whispered, “thank you,” the touch of the words barely there at all.

You relaxed in his presence, sitting back as you handed him the coffee, to which his expression grew even more gentle. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed you again on the forehead, making you melt, just as he always did.

“What do you want to do today?” you asked as you laid on his chest, staring up at him with every ounce of love you had to offer. “I have dinner reservations, but you’ve got all day until then.”

Nanami laughed, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “It doesn’t matter. We can just spend it like any normal day.”

You frowned. “That’s not anything special. It’s your birthday.”

“It’s just a birthday.” He squeezed your arm before maneuvering you gently off of him so that he could sit up on the bed. “Besides, every moment I spend with you is special. I’m happy to just sit around and do nothing until dinner.” Kento seemed to notice your displeased expression, even though your heart had swelled at his comment. “Unless there was something you wanted to do instead…”

He climbed out of the bed, taking one sip of the steaming coffee before setting it back down.

“It’s not my birthday.” You watched him gather his clothes up off the floor with a sigh, the muscles in his back clenching as he bent over. “I want to do what you want to do.”

“And I told you I didn’t care.” He smiled playfully at you, tugging his shirt on over his head. Then, he reached over and squeezed your hand, coming back to where you sat, your legs swung over the side of the mattress.

“Kento.” You pulled him back down with a pointed expression, your faces close, lips almost touching. “I’m serious.”

He stared back at you for a moment, before relenting. “Alright.” Kento bent down, kissing you once more before going into the bathroom. “Let me shower, and we’ll go get some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“Is that what you want to do?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

Although you could tell he was amused by your insistence, he softened, his eyes melting into hearts as he turned. “That’s what I want to do. Happy?”

“Very.” You shoved him away, laughing. “Go take a shower. You’re not getting any younger.”

He rolled his eyes and retreated into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind him.

When the water started running and Kento was definitely in the shower, you hurriedly dialed Gojo’s number, begging him to pick up. After the third dial, when you were certain he wouldn’t answer, a short tone cut through the line.

“What’s wrong?” he answered, clearly amused. There was shuffling on the other end, and some sort of yelp. Your brows pinched together.

As you listened closely to make sure the shower water wouldn’t turn off unexpectedly, you frowned. Your leg shook with anticipation. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Gojo released a breath, though his voice grew mumbled on the other end. “Well, you normally only call me if you’re panicking about the birthday situation, so—”

There was a scream. You dragged your hand down your face, as he said something sharply to someone on the other side of the call.

“Gojo?”

“Yeah?” Another sound, this one of extreme pain. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re exorcising a curse right now.”

He paused, and then the sound stopped, everything going silent on his side. “Well… I’m not anymore.”

You wanted to say that you were shocked he’d bothered to pick up the phone at all, but… You weren’t, really. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Unfortunately, cursed spirits don’t know it’s Nanamin’s birthday, so they just keep coming.” He sighed. “What a bummer. If they were nicer, I’d invite them to the birthday party.”

You snorted. “Right. I’m certain Kento would love that.”

Gojo laughed. “So, what were you calling about? If it’s to panic over your much too long list of things for me to do, don’t worry. Everything’s in order.”

“Really? Did you wrap the presents?”

He hummed. “Megumi did.”

You closed your eyes, holding back a sigh. That was probably for the best, anyway. You’d never seen Gojo wrap a gift, but you weren’t sure how it’d look if he did. “Okay… What about the decorations?”

“Itadori is bringing those over once you two leave.”

A part of you wanted to get frustrated with him for doing absolutely nothing, but it wasn’t his fault he had to work, even if he’d promised to help you out. At least he was delegating the tasks. One way or another, it would get done. “Are you going to help him at all?”

“Have a little bit more faith in me than that. You’re hurting my feelings.”

“No I’m not. Did you get him a birthday card?”

“I think Maki offered to do that. And before you ask your next question, yes everyone’s going to be there on time. Kugisaki followed up with everyone.”

“Oh my god… Did you do anything, Satoru?”

“I picked up the cake.” A beat of silence. “Well, I haven’t yet. I’m going right now. I got a little side-tracked.”

He’d given you no reason to doubt him, really. But you were still afraid that something would go wrong, and you’d be left without a cake, in the middle of a very important birthday. “Fine, but just know that I’m texting Megumi in an hour to come check on you. I can only keep Kento out of the house for so long, so you need to make sure it’s perfect.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

Once you’d sent Gojo the final list of things that needed to be done, you put your phone away, promising yourself that it would not be a point of stress while you were at dinner with Nanami. You’d reserved a table at his favorite restaurant and dressed up nicer than you had in a while.

After breakfast, the two of you meandered around the city for the rest of the day until your reservation, as you tried to think of anything that could keep him away from home. Worried that he would catch on, you continued to diffuse his concerns, kissing him with a smile as you pulled him along to the next place you could think of.

And though he’d protested, saying that you didn’t have to dedicate your entire day to him, you couldn’t think of another way that you’d want to be spending it.

When the evening started to fall, you made your way to the restaurant, and the phone buzzed in your bag. You gritted your teeth and ignored it.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go home?” Kento asked you, swinging your hand in his between the two of you. Neither of you had ever been big on public displays of affection, but holding hands through the streets was one of the nicest feelings you’d come to experience. “We have time.”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, and he eyed you curiously, almost stopping in his tracks. “We better get there early, just in case. Don’t you think?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, but then nodded, squeezing your hand. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be early.” He smiled, humming to himself happily. “You know, you didn’t have to do all of this for me today.”

“I wanted to. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” You laughed, but for some reason, there was uncertainty behind his eyes. You felt the phone buzzing more and more in your pocket.

The restaurant was packed, and even though you were early to your reservation, they got you seated immediately.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Did I already tell you that?” Nanami said once you were seated.

You flushed, your cheeks growing warm as he stared at you across the table with gentle, brown eyes. “Thanks, Kento,” you said in a quiet voice, knowing that you’d looked much better earlier, when your hair had been perfect, and your makeup hadn’t smudged. Your dress now had some wrinkles, and you were sweating with nerves and the heat outside.

He glanced down at the menu, perusing it, even though he got the same thing every time. You ordered a bottle of wine to split between the two of you.

The server brought the alcohol back and poured it, then took your order back to the kitchen. When Nanami ordered, you dropped your chin in your hands, watching him, distracted by the very sight of him.

He nodded at the younger girl politely, and she grew pink, scurrying off to the next room. Kento looked back at you as you laughed and started up another conversation. You talked about school and work and everything in between, the mood only shattering when you felt the incessant buzz of the phone in your pocket.

You were in the middle of a story, but your sentences started to blend together into something that didn’t make sense. You stumbled over what you were saying, feeling the weight of the phone in your pocket as you tried to refocus on your words, but remained distracted.

The phone buzzed again in your pocket. You gritted your teeth. Fucking Gojo Satoru and his idiotic brain—you’d told him not to contact you.

“Is everything alright?” Kento blinked as you took your phone out and set it in your purse.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

He hesitated, thoughtful as he swallowed a sip of wine. “Well, I don’t want you to get in any trouble if it’s work.”

“I took off today. If they can’t handle two sorcerers being gone, then they’ve got bigger problems.”

Nanami sighed, drumming his fingers against the table. “I guess that’s true. Speaking of work, I—"

The phone buzzed louder, then there was a pause. It buzzed again. You cringed.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but—”

The phone started ringing.

You were close to throwing the bag altogether, and probably would’ve, if it hadn’t been one of the most expensive accessories you owned. Nanami looked down at the bag, then back at you, eyebrows raised.

“Honey…” he said, eyes gesturing to the phone. “Just answer it.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and you dug your phone out of the bag, Megumi Fushiguro’s name was bold as it lit up on the screen. You held it tightly in your hand and began to stand, feeling sick and horrible and wondering if all the secrecy had just ruined his birthday. “I’m so sorry Kento—"

He shrugged; his voice was solid with gentle patience. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

You nodded, and waited until you were out of earshot to answer the phone, feeling horrible about leaving him all by himself. Once you were in the bathroom, locked in one of the stalls, you answered. “Hello?”

“Itadori dropped the cake.”

You took a breath before answering Megumi’s calm remark, wondering how close you actually were to snapping. “What.”

In the background, the pink-haired boy wailed over and over, loud cries that were, clearly, full of remorse. “It was an accident!” He shouted over Kugisaki’s berating, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, because that was the last thing you’d expected to happen.

“Itadori dropped the cake,” Megumi repeated, flatly, like you hadn’t gotten it the first time. “It’s all over the floor. Kugisaki’s trying to get him to clean it up, but it’s just making him even more miserable.”

You covered a hand over your mouth, wondering why your eyes were welling up with frustrated tears. Things were not going the way you’d planned. “Is Gojo there yet?”

“Yeah.” Megumi hesitated, and there was a pause, like he was unsure what to do now that he finally had you on the phone. “Want me to put him on?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you, and muttered, “yes.” Within a moment, the older man, currently in charge of three teenagers, was on the line.

“This may or may not be Gojo,” he said, and you were glad that he at least had enough intelligence to sound nervous.

“Satoru.” You tried hard not to panic. “Please, please can you try and find another cake? I know it’s late, but I’m not sure how much longer I can stall here. I’m trying so hard not to be suspicious, but I’m horrible at it.”

“I can try, but—"

“Kento already thinks I’m acting weird, and he keeps asking me questions that I’m doing a very bad job of answering. I feel awful because it’s his birthday, and I’m afraid he thinks I’m just getting ready to split up with him or something.”

“Ouch.” Gojo said dramatically, hissing like he’d been stung. “That’d be a bit of an asshole move, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, I’m obviously not going to do that!” You scrubbed your hands over your face. “He seemed upset today, and I just don’t want all of this to go to waste. Please, Satoru. It doesn’t matter what the cake looks like, but just make sure that you get something, so that—"

“Hey,” he said, dropping the theatrics when you choked back a sob. His tone grew serious. “Take a deep breath. I think you’re forgetting who we’re dealing with here.”

“What do you mean?” You blinked, dabbing your eyes, hoping that your mascara wouldn’t smear.

“Nanami is going to appreciate the gestures, even if they aren’t perfect.”

You inhaled and exhaled, realizing that Satoru was right. Out there was a man that you loved very much, who loved you in return, and this was not as serious as you were making it out to be. “You’re right.”

“Obviously. Enjoy your dinner. I can take care of it.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like a warzone in the background.”

“Everything’s fine,” Gojo swore, even if you didn’t entirely believe him. “I told Megumi not to call you, but he loves getting me in trouble. Please, don’t worry about it.”

You opened your mouth, but Gojo had already hung up.

As you left the stall, you sighed, seeing yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red with unshed tears, but you’d already made Kento wait long enough.

Twitching nervously, you headed back to the table. Nanami was sitting patiently, scrolling through something mindlessly on his phone.

“Everything okay?” he asked as you sat back down, noticing the signs of tears and misery. He reached for you across the table, but then thought better of it, and just frowned.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just really sorry, Kento.” You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s your birthday. I want you to enjoy it.”

A beat of silence passed. He smiled. “I am enjoying it.” He did reach for your hand, then, and pulled it tight against his own. “This has been the best birthday, sweetheart. Why are you upset?”

You swallowed. “I’m not upset.” You shook your head, trying to clear the unhappiness from your expression. “Anyways, what were you saying? I interrupted.”

Nanami’s face fell. You’d changed the subject so quickly; he hadn’t had the chance to ask you any more questions. “Right. Well, nothing important. I just have to be in Kyoto next week.”

You frowned. “All week?”

He nodded. “I wanted to let you know in case you wanted to make plans. You’ve been...” he paused, thinking over his words. “Seeing Gojo a lot lately, so I thought you might want to—”

You stared at him, and realized what he was getting at. Fuck, you felt so horrible. “Oh,” you said, scratching your wrist under the table. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m sure he’ll be busy too.”

That wasn’t the answer Nanami was looking for. He stopped, and then regrouped, nodding. “Well, either way, I wanted you to know. They didn’t give me advanced notice.”

You smiled tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only for a few days,” he said, releasing your hand to place it back onto his lap. “But I’m going to miss you too.” There was something distant in his voice when he said it.

On the way home from the restaurant, Gojo texted you obnoxiously, sending you pictures of the house, the cleanliness of it, the set-up of the gifts, the new cake, and you smiled to yourself, somewhat relieved that things weren’t a complete disaster.

You could feel Kento’s eyes on you as he drove home, his hand resting on your thigh as you turned slightly away from him, keeping his eyes off the screen.

Stop sending me things before he sees my phone.

Gojo’s response was much too quick.

Stop looking at your phone.

You sighed, clicking the screen off and finally relaxing against the window. The secrecy was almost over; you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep this all hidden without causing so much dramatic suspicion.

Nanami pulled into park in front of your home, squeezing your leg gently before releasing it. You expected him to make a move to get out of the car, but instead he sat, contemplative, the key still in the ignition.

You swallowed, looking at him. “Is everything okay?”

He took a breath, turning back to you with some sort of determination in his eyes. “Have I done something to upset you?” he asked, his voice so incredibly gentle.

“What?” you said, laughing nervously. “Why would you ask that?”

His face fell as he looked back at the steering wheel. “I just thought this would be easier if I’d hurt you in some way.”

Your mouth grew dry. You reached for him. “Kento—”

“Look,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, the strands coming loose, falling onto his forehead. “I’m not trying to… I don’t want to…” His words fell off, and though you knew what he was trying to say, you didn’t want him to say it, because there was no reason for it. “If something’s wrong, I just want to know. Let’s at least try to fix it.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” You squeezed his hand, trying to pull away from him. “Can we talk about this inside?” You started to get out of the car.

“No, wait.” He stopped you again, eyes wide with disappointment, like he couldn’t get his words out fast enough. “This is what happens every time. I ask you about it, then you find a way to spin my words around so that we never talk about it. I let you every time, because I love you, and I trust you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart squeezed. “Kento.” You began, feeling bad that you were forced to talk in circles just to get him to believe in your lies. “I promise, we’ll talk about it inside. It’s still your birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it by misunderstanding one another. Please, let’s talk about it once we’re both settled in.”

Nanami’s shoulders stiffened, then deflated, but he didn’t let go of you. “There’s not… Someone else, is there?”

“Of course not.” You said fervently, kissing his hand. “God, Ken. You think I’d want anyone else when I’ve got you?”

He smiled, though it was half-hearted.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything. I owe you that much.”

You led him into the house, holding his hand tightly, hoping that this went over as you intended. Beside you, he was still contemplative, flicking on the lights as you continued into your home.

“You know, I really think we should still—”

As the lights came on, his words were cut off by some variation of everyone yelling happy birthday, and he blinked back at the students he’d recently met, and all the sorcerers he’d worked with closely in the previous years. His jaw opened, then shut, then he looked at you, then back to Gojo, and you could see the understanding in his features before he’d expressed it, when everything clicked into place.

A moment of silence passed where Nanami said nothing, and then Itadori decided to fill that silence with very off-key singing, and Kento’s cheeks dusted light pink, barely visible in the light, as he squeezed your hand tighter.

Everyone made the rounds, greeting him with varying levels of enthusiasm, while Nanami just thanked them with quiet politeness, even though you could see that he was secretly pleased, his lips curling up into a smile, the signs of stress dissipating from his features.

Itadori approached with a poorly wrapped gift and a hug that Nanami didn’t quite return, but he didn’t push away, either.

Nanami took the gift, holding it with soft eyes like he’d been given something precious. “Thank you, Yuuji. This is very kind.”

“You’re welcome.” Itadori said back proudly, smiling smugly at his two friends over his shoulder, obviously proud that he’d gotten such praise. “It’s probably going to be the best gift you’ll get tonight.”

You could see Nanami trying to refrain from laughing, but he snorted instead. “Is this why you were asking me about all those things that I liked a few weeks ago?”

“Uhh…” Yuuji smiled sheepishly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “No! Not really. But… Maybe.” He sighed. “I’d thought you’d forget about that.”

Kento’s eyes crinkled at the corner, and he squeezed Itadori’s shoulder, clearly touched.

You kissed his cheek and left him alone to talk with everyone that came to visit, going to thank Gojo and the students that had helped you over the past few weeks.

An hour passed before you found Kento again, after the cake had been cut and Gojo had insisted he opened one of the many gifts he’d gotten him.

He was standing in the kitchen, staring at a pile of wrapped gifts and the sliced cake that wasn’t exactly what you’d intended, but had received the same reaction, nonetheless.

“Kento?” you said quietly, and though you could tell that he was appreciative of everyone, you still weren’t sure how the surprise had gone over. He turned to you, his sleeves rolled up, a few more strands of blond hair coming loose. His cheeks were flushed, eyes soft. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been lying—”

Kento was to you in two long strides, backing you into a wall before kissing you deeply. Your hands curled into his hair, and you hummed into his mouth with a smile as his hands rested on your hips.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered against your mouth. “I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to ridiculous conclusions.”

You laughed, kissing him again and again, feeling things finally ease back into normalcy. “I know how it looked—” He looked away, embarrassed that he’d even thought of the possibility that you would leave him for Gojo. “I’m sorry I was so suspicious.” You sighed, leaning back in his arms as you held his cheeks with both hands. “Were you surprised?”

“I wish I wasn’t. It was pretty obvious now that I think back on it.”

“But…”

“But, yes,” he said, kissing your forehead as you preened, proud that it had all pulled together in the end. “I was surprised.” He gave you one last kiss, whispering, “thank you” and “I love you” on your lips.

From behind the door, you heard shuffling, and opened your eyes to see Gojo snapping a picture, to which Nanami groaned, pushing himself away from you reluctantly.

Gojo grinned, “Sorry. I’ll let myself out. Didn’t realize you two lovebirds were in here,” he said, even though he most certainly did.

“Please do,” Nanami gestured in the direction of the front door. “I hate the fact that you even know where I live.”

Gojo’s face fell. “After everything I did for your birthday, and you’re still going to pretend you don’t like me?”

“I don’t.” Nanami sighed, before swallowing down whatever antagonist words he really wanted to say. “But thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Gojo beamed—you intervened before he could even think to throw his arms around Kento.

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