#THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM LOVINGLY WHILE HE YAPS

[priceofreedom]

The yellow flowers symbolize reunion ♡ New Zack x Aerith wallpaper (Ever Crisis)

[itryhardtomakethishouseahome]

Arcane Characters saying I love you Pt2

~ Silco, Sevika, and Vander

A/n sorry this one's a little longer than pt 1, also reblogs are much appreciated✨🫶🏼

word count 1.8k pt 1 here

First time saying i love you pt 2

silco, sevika, vander

Silco~

‘It’s too quiet’ you thought, lounging in Silco's office on the sofa Sevika basically claimed as hers. The silence almost made you nervous mostly because it never was. The atmosphere was always filled with the sound of sevika working on her arm, faint explosions echoing from Jinx's lab, silco’s meetings, jinx yapping about her new inventions or arguing with Sevika, or even fin’s disgusting attempts to flirt with you while you catch Silco and Sevika rolling their eyes over his shoulder. Like clockwork, the tedious silence was broken by Silco barging through the door followed by Sevika. 

“She’s a problem and we all know it!” Sevika seethed. You figured that they were either too angry to notice you or too angry to care. 

Silco brushed his hair back and turned his head to look over his shoulder. “We?” You wanted to intervene but know that given the fact that 1. they’re both stubborn and 2. Sevika’s stature and gaze alone intimidate the hell out of you, it’d be useless but nonetheless you definitely piece together that it’s about jinx. 

“Look,” Sevika took a deep breath,  “I know you have a thing for strays and she means a lot to you but she is not your daughter. There is an entire city that relies on you and you’re doing nothing but making excuses for some unhinged kid. Even if you were her father you should know when to keep her in check instead of letting her be a loose cannon and put everything we’ve worked for in jeopardy. If you aren't going to choose between parenting her or acting like her boss, send her to the enforcers.” With that Sevika walked out slamming the door behind her. You definitely understood her anger and everything she was saying but Silco was trying. Granted he could be trying harder but for the life he’s lived he was doing all he could without being cold towards jinx. He COULD turn her in but everything she’s done she was told to do by him, he COULD abandon her and perfect everything he’s built but he knows what it’s like and he’s grown too attached. He was at a loss and you could see it in the ways his shoulders dropped yet looked so tense. 

Sighing, Silco finally decides to acknowledge your presence. “Tell me my dear,” he said, hunched over his desk, “what do I do?” You stood up and walked over to him, gently ushering him to face you. It hurt you to see him like this, unraveled by his daughter and right hand. You take his face in your hands and he immediately sinks into your touch with glossy eyes. “Tell me how to parent her. Tell me how to be better.” he begs. 

“My heart, you don’t need to be better. You’ve told her countless times to take things more seriously. Her not doing so is entirely on her, not you.” You tried your best to reassure him. “I’d suggest telling her that unless she shapes up she won't be allowed on more serious jobs but knowing her she’d throw a fit and go against you anyways.” Finally Silco cracks a smile and scoffs. 

“That does sound like her, suppose my stubbornness has rubbed off on her.” he says, taking your hands in his and staring deeply and lovingly into your eyes. 

“So be more stern with her, is what you’re implying?” he stated more so than asked, taking you in his arms. “Mhm.” you hummed. 

“I'll give it a try, thank you my dear.” 

“Of course, eventually she’ll listen. She just needs to learn that there are reasons why you tell her not to go all out. You’re a great father, you know.” He swears his heart skipped a beat.

“...I love you…” Silco whispers, holding you tighter. “I love you more.”

Sevika~ 

You and Sevika both work for Silco, you have since the start of his reign, and you both quickly learned how tiring and physically demanding it was. However, some days were worse than others today being a prime example for Sevika at least. You had to take care of some petty thieves in one of Silco’s stash houses that Fin had secretly hired but regardless you got to go home early and are now relaxing in your shared bed. Eventually you dozed off but got woken up by the sound of Sevika opening the bedroom door. 

“Oh hey, sorry doll,” she gently kisses your temple. “Didn’t know you went home early.” she mumbles, taking her shoes off and throwing them across the room. 

“Yeah because I’m lucky” you say with a smirk. Sevika lazily smacks your thigh earning a giggle as she plops next to you sinking her face into the pillow. “Lucky brat is what you are. Why’d you leave early anyway?” 

“I finished my task quickly and was gonna wait for you but Silco said that jinx was with you,” Sevika groans at the name of her tiny nemesis earning a giggle from you. She then turns her head ushering you to go on while she starts caressing your jaw. “And that you’d most likely take a while so he sent me home.” she hummed in response. She didn’t say anything else, continuing to only lay on her stomach with her head turned to you, running her fingers down your jaw then suddenly shutting her eyes and jerking her hand.

“What's wrong? Did you get hurt?” You ask, sitting up immediately inspecting her for injuries noticing how she didn't move at all to calm you down. 

“Nothin my backs just sore…” Sevika groaned. You could tell it was more than just her back, it was her shoulder blades and arm. Sighing, you got up and gently started removing her shirt. 

“Angel I'm too tir-” 

“Get your mind out of the gutter Vika I'm not gonna ravage you I just wanna give you a massage.” She utters a quick ‘oh’ before sliding out of her shirt then resuming her previous position.

“As if you could ever ravage me.” she scoffs. Ignoring her, you grab some lotion from the nightstand and take a seat on her butt. You apply the lotion to your hands before putting some pressure on her lower back deciding you’ll save the problem spots for last. Judging by how tense she is and how she groans you get the idea that she was long overdue for a good massage. 

Once you clear all the knots and tension from her lower and mid back you focus your attention on the spot in between her shoulder blades, gently pushing down then dragging your hands around her shoulders hearing various pops, cracks, groans, and moans coming from her. There really isn’t anything you can do about the pain from the arm she no longer has other than press ginger kisses around the area. As she feels your weight shift from her backside to the bed she turns to face you once more, taking you in her arms and engulfing you in a passionate kiss.

“Y’know I'm gonna marry you one day right angel?” she playfully questions. 

“Only seems fair,” you start, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You already got acting like one.” she smiles, remembering everything you’ve done for her, especially when she lost her arm. You were always right there when she needed you but was too stubborn to ask for help, you were always at her beck and call. 

“Oh please, it's ‘cause you love me… and I love you…so much.”

Vander~

You knew that when you started dating Vander that the kids would have to be in your life too and honestly you loved it. You would always bring them gifts like boxing gloves for Vi, trinkets and tools for Mylo and Powder, and snacks for Claggor. Anytime Vander would tell them not to do something they’d immediately run to you begging you to change his mind and sometimes it worked sometimes it didn’t. Today being one of the days it didn’t.

You were relaxing at the empty bar when Vi barged yelling about how something wasn’t fair while Vander trailed her. Vi spotted you and ran to your side.

“Y/n please tell him that we’re ready.” She begged without any context as to what she was talking about. 

“What's happening?” you ask, lost as ever. 

“Apparently the enforcers are turning the lanes upside down looking for us but this is our chance to fight! We need to stand up to them and now’s as good a time as any.” Vi explained. You assumed vander wasn’t having any of it given the fact that 1. the kids’ safety was everything to him and 2. he had an arrangement with the enforcers. 

“There’s too much at risk if we do Violet! You need to stop thinking with these,” Vander says, grabbing her fists. “And start thinking with this!” he then points to her head. “The lanes isn't what it used to be. Yes we all still have the same drive as we did back then, but we’re not in the same shape as we used to be! We lost a lot of good people then and we’d lose even more now.” Violet thinks of her parents which Vander can see in her eyes. “You’ll lose powder, claggor, and Mylo too. We will rise Violet I promise you we will but now is not our time, there's too much at stake.” Vander looks to you for help and so does Vi. You love the kids but this is one thing that Vander would not change his mind about and to be frank you agree with him.

“I'm sorry Vi but he’s right honey” you take her face in your hands trying to get her to see how sincere you are. “A shadow of the lanes would be all that’s left. And I don’t wanna lose you guys.” 

“...fine.” Violet mumbles before running off, leaving you and Vander alone. Vander walks over to you pulling you in for a hug.

“You really care about those kids huh?” He questions. 

“Of course I do, I get that they want to fight but I wish she would see how badly this would end for us. It would end in a fiery blaze with everyone we love slaughtered.” You notice some blue hair peeking out from behind the wall and instantly know who it is. 

“You can come out Powpow, is everything okay?” Vander turns around to face her as she takes a few steps towards you. She looked really sad, her eyes were puffy and she was holding what looked like a stuffed bunny. Vander stares at it thinking it looked familiar then it hit him.

“Look at me Powder,” he kneels in front of her, gently holding her shoulders. “Where did she go?”

“She said she was going to make things right and that she’d be away for a while.” the little girl sniffles. Vander stands up immediately and walks to you.

“I need you to stay here with the kids. I need to go get Violet.” he leans down and kisses you deeply before pulling away to head towards the door.

 “I love you.” 

[ripleylove]

Show all my love for you.

requested by @judgementdaysunshine saying: Can I have Solo Sikoa x Fem reader with the prompt “What’s the one thing you want?” “You”?

pairing: Solo Sikoa x fem reader.

genre: friends to lovers,fluff and a bit suggestive.

summary: while waiting for your beloved birthday,a confession to your best friend Solo completely change the way you see each other.

A/N: im liking this type of layout for my posts! I think it's gonna be a definitive thing ;)

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

As your birthday got closer,you couldn't help but be excited.

That's why you were happily yapping to Solo about your birthday plans,him lovingly looking at you while listening.

You told him about having dinner with your friends (including him) at an Italian restaurant, then about the way you were going to get absolutely wasted at the bar.

"What gifts do you think you gon' receive?" He asked,leaning on his elbow while looking at you.

"That's a million dollar question, Solo." You hummed,trying to think about the things your friends are gonna gift you.

"I think,Chimera is gonna get me a perfume? Since the other day she asked if I liked perfumes; and,Ilaria maybe bought a watch,I don't know. I'm going off my sixth sense,you know?" You teased,smiling sheepishly.

"Oh,my bad." Solo jokingly raised his arms in surrender,and the both of you laughed.

"What's the one thing you want the most?" He asked,and you smirked: this was your perfect occasion.

You and Solo have been friends for over 5 years,and you may or may not have fallen for him,so now you could shoot your shot.

"You."

You said with confidence, while inside your heart the feeling of anxiety and fear of being rejected was rising.

He looked at you with wide eyes,his mouth slowly open.

He stayed silent for some seconds,before he quietly started talking.

"You're for real? Like you actually want me?" He asked with a hopeful tone,looking at you with puppy eyes (that you couldn't quite frankly resist).

You nodded with a little smile gracing the lips that Solo was staring at,and you slowly inched closer to him,giving him a full possibility to back away.

As you finally inched closer to his plump lips,he asked again.

"You're not playing with me?"

"Nah,So. I really really like you. Do you feel the same?" You asked him,and when he eagerly nodded,you almost hurried to kiss his lips.

The feeling was something you've never experienced before,his soft lips hugging yours in a soft embrace,and he deepened the kiss with his tongue,caressing your round cheekbones with his rough hands.

As you pulled away with a red face,you asked him:

"Since when do you like me?"

"For,maybe,3 years? I was too scared to tell you." He said shyly,taking your right hand in his and planting a chaste kiss on it.

"So? Are you going to show me how much you like me?" You smirked,looking lustfully at him.

"Oh,fo' sure,ma. Watch me while I show all my love for you." He smirked,his behaviour doing a complete 360,sliding his hands under your shirt.

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx @p-mp @teenagedramaqueenlisa @thegalacticnacho091 @judgementdaysunshine

[inchidentally]

@ the anons I’ve accrued over this year who brought up Oscar not being embraced by the media team I’m still not going to post the asks bc there’s a lot of doom etc in there but like…

(and even tho it’s easy to find out who it is I’m not including who posted it bc do NOT want hate or anything in their comments and fandom issues =/= relevance to real life teams and their jobs)

“carland0 won the McLaren constructors… Oscar was there ig anyway remember when I staged a puppet show to commemorate carland0” LIKE SHSBSBVSBSBD

and I get that to a media person the subjects are mostly valuable for how good they are on camera bc even Andrea only gets a passing mention in this post compared to a bromance and he’s the actual architect that Lando himself says is behind this win - but he’s also famously deer in the headlights when a camera is on him.

it does possibly explain why the quality and quantity of McLaren content took a sudden nosedive not long after Oscar joined. (side note that Joe also moved on from McLaren early this year who was on the media team and spent a lot of social time with Oscar and posted him more) it’s a lil sad bc if you watch any of Oscar’s Prema content where he feels comfortable and friendly with the people behind the cameras he’s hilarious and willing to “dance” and yap and be silly. even in Alpine he was actually known by broadcast teams for being funny and a sardonic yapper and meme guy. but I think the McLaren ppl mistook Oscar coming into the team in the worst possible way PR wise and clamming up as a result as that being his real personality. Nicole saying how she wanted more people to see his real personality and ironically Carlos himself warming so much to Oscar despite the on track rivalry and not rly hanging out like… I hope the media team maybe start this next season fresh and realize that people who aren’t naturals on camera are still worth putting in effort to help them relax and be themselves. and if one of the people who’s been there for so many years put in that effort then it would have a big ripple effect !!

again I am not gonna post those asks bc a)do NOT support any harassment (however well intentioned) of employees just doing their jobs and b)in the grand scheme of things socmed does not matter and c)Oscar thankfully is blissfully unaware and/or does NOT care. he brings up Carlos and Daniel and carland0 totally on his own and he is utterly free of ego about his perception or presence in McLaren media.

and while it definitely means less Oscar and therefore landoscar content per capita or whatever the phrase is, the whole landoscar dynamic is that it’s so completely not slick fun millennial YouTuber ready PR content and they’re funny and cute and have their own unique chemistry even in the under 2 minutes allowed them for each video. and ofc Oscar has his own social media to put his dry humor and chronically online references <3

but as I saw in comments on a different post, Oscar might take longer to win over the media people but the people who matter most like Andrea and the ppl in the garage and factory and crucially !! the women working directly with him all utterly utterly adore him. he’s quietly there just being a hard worker and proving himself <3

and ultimately ofc the people who don’t like that Lando said he’s decided to not joke or perform as much for media (and saying he picked up from Oscar to just be himself and relax more) can always go back to the old content! and since Carlos creates the same fun bromance atmosphere with all his teammates I mean we all know Team Torque is about to become one of the best parts of race week media. Williams media team is going to eat him UPPPP

anyway yea none of it is deep it just got me thinking about how Oscar post alpinegate withdrew so much and so many ppl haven’t looked up who he was before to realize what a fun silly chatty kitten he is and that ofc he must be bc Lando holds him in his hand lovingly for a reason - and I do think when the ppl who got used to the Carlos and Daniel school of media warm up to Oscar and learn him more we’ll get that high res DSLR filmed content again instead of portrait iPhone instagram <3

(side note the whole thing if Unboxed dropping bc of DTS got debunked. DTS hasn’t stopped any other teams content and if it were true then Lando wouldn’t be allowed to make Landologs. this was definitely a media team decision made midway thru 2023)

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/749681172914782208/i-want-to-know-how-many-monsters-spend-their?source=share

Imagine Santi's perfect match is that poor bastrad's friend.

The monster is just ranting about getting their heart broken by Santi and is mad at both Santi and their friend. Their mad at their friend because they did the one thing she told them not to do, never fall in love with a thot and their mad at Santi because he could've just been profesional and let them down gently instead of absolutely oblitirating their existence over text (lmao Gallon).

So one day she sees Santi working so obviously she goes over there to confornt him, "I know your buisness doesn't include any emontional factors but you don't have to be such a cold blooded bitch when you rejected my friend. You could've just said no like-" and she goes on a yap session about why she think what he did was wrong.

I think Santi would be overjoyed but also annoyed, like yay my match, but also why is she on my buisness, did my old client send her?

["How DARE you not date my pathetic wet cat friend??!??"]

While Santi would usually be pretty direct in these cases, telling you that his policy and limits are very clear, and that you need a day in his shoes (or lack thereof) to understand what it's like to deal with people who just can't buzz off or think that they're now entitled to his time and affection-

He's not even annoyed.

All the calmness in the world seems to be channeled by the incubus while you point your finger so hard at him you're almost touching him. Not very bright of you, a lesser demon might have snapped it. Santi insists that the two of you sit down to talk over this.

Then come the excuses. See, he has to be mean. When someone gets as in love as your poor (idotic) friend, a simple "I'm not available for a relationship" won't work effectively and neither will a "Piss off", the demon has to hurt them deliberately so that the rose-colored lenses shatter. Would you really prefer it if Santi had gently turned your friend down, only for said friend to keep trying over and over, getting their self-esteem destroyed in the long process? He was quick and merciful, if you think about it.

Ir's definitely very bizarre that he keeps looking so lovingly at you during this conversation. It might even make you guess that's why people keep falling in love with him, because he makes those swoons and sighs and casts infatuated eyes at his clients. But no, in this instance, they are as sincere as it gets. And Santi will try to hurry this conversation along so he can convince you to have him for the night. To see for yourself that there's no reason for someone minimally intelligent to fall in love from his services.

Though, naturally, the challenge is only a ruse, and Santi will treat you in a way that'll keep you addicted to him, coming back over and over, so that he has time to form a bond, to explain the concepts of matching to you. This will be more complicated than usual, he acknowledges it, but like Hell he's giving up.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Everything's Fine - A Copia One Shot

Everything was fine. That’s what Copia told himself at least. Or, I got way too excited about Copia canonically having dissociative issues and wrote this as a more detailed version of his perspective throughout RHRN.

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen, Copia & Imperator (it's completely platonic mother/son stuff I swear)

Tags: Angst, dissociation, derealisation, Copia needs a hug, author is projecting, author does not care.

Words: 1.8k

A/n: This was definitely better in my head but I couldn't help myself. I have dissociation issues myself (mostly DPDR) and seeing Copia struggle too made yap and ramble and this came about! Any feedback or comments are welcome and appreciated!

~~~

    Everything was fine.

    That’s what Copia told himself at least.

    He’d seen the signs but his mind wouldn’t have it. Everything was fine, apart from his own doom, it felt. But he knew his own mother would never permit that, right?

    It didn’t matter now, he had a Ritual to perform. Adoring fans screaming his name, the crew waiting for him to give the cue to start Imperium. There were a few new things tonight as well. The skeleton dancers, the quartet on the B-Stage, that new lighting rig for Watcher In The Sky, Twenties for the first time and If You Have Ghosts for the first time in a while. Stressful, but it’s fine. Everything was fine.

    Kaisarion was going as amazing as always, an explosive opening to an explosive show. Copia did his usual of running backstage, his Ghouls deserved the spotlight. Sister was back there of course, looking as great as always. Kevin had been keeping a close eye on her recently, wonder what that’s about?

    That didn’t matter, he had to get back on stage. He got to his mark and everything was fine. Rats, Faith, Spillways all went great and his bat wings were waiting for him for Cirice.

    “It’s going great now, innit?” He shouted to Imperator.

    She was on the other side of the backstage area and wasn’t hearing him. So he went over.

    She’s in a wheelchair. She’s getting weaker. Her pills are all laid out for her with water to wash it down. She never could swallow tablets dry.

No, everything was fine. She was comfy in her high-back chair, her favourite tea and biscuits next to her. She had a blanket because she didn’t have the warmth of the stage lights on her like he did.

    Her bones grow weary, the chill seeps in and her heart won’t warm her up.

    He left for the stage and heard something shaking behind him. Was Swiss or Cirrus back here with their shakers? They should be on stage! Yet they were. It wasn’t more pills…

    She’s dying.

Read below the cut or on ao3

No, she’s watching the show. Maybe she just wants to join in in her own little way and borrowed one of the spare shakers.

    He got to his mark for Cirice and everything was fine. He chose a lovely person by the barricade to sing that iconic chorus to. He remembered when Terzo originated the idea, how excited he was. He missed his brothers; it took a long time for the reality of their passings to settle into Copia’s bones.

    Even when their bodies were paraded around for the fans. No, it wasn’t them, they were just dressed up mannequins. They would come back any day soon because this wasn’t real. Everything was fine. It took Copia a long time to draw the line between reality and what he manifested it to be. Even still, he hoped that one of them would interrupt his Mass, walk into the dining hall and lovingly kick him out of the Papa’s seat.

    He went back to take his bat wings off, no doubt Phantom would steal them later when they thought he wasn’t looking, and Ashley fixed his hair for him. Stubborn thing always ended up with a cow-lick. The reflection of the mirror was interesting.

    It’s an IV drip, she needs these infusions now.

Maybe it’s some new cool thing where you drink from a bag. Swiss showed him the bags in those boxes of wine, maybe this was the sober version.

    The first lyrics of the next song almost betrayed how fine everything was.

    “Ever since you were born, you’ve been dying.

    Everyday, a little more, you’ve been dying.”

    But that’s just a song. No one’s dying. Not the Ghouls, not him and not his mother.

    She will.

    Ritual’s chorus also sought to ruin the peace he wanted for the night.

    “Smells of dead human sacrifice.”

    No one’s getting sacrificed, thankfully.

    She sacrificed everything for you. Just be there for her now.

No. No one is dying.

    He went backstage again and donned his sparkling blue robes. Sister helped design these, so proud of her son and bringing him to the spotlight he deserved from his Emeritus blood.

    Her life’s purpose complete.

    He went back to take his mitre off and Sister was fine, everything was fine. He got his thurible and went back out. Con Clavi Con Dio went by perfectly, the lick of incense wormed it’s way through the air. It reminded him of Sister comforting him when he had a nightmare. It never used to make sense to him why she would pick up so many shifts in the orphanage when she had so many duties.

    He changed again for Watcher In The Sky, and Sister tried to tell him something, Nihil too. He thinks anyway. His mind was as foggy as the rig ascending from just above Mountain’s head. He could make out eyes, no words. Nothing. Where was he?

    “Go, go!” Sister urged him.

    Copia snapped back in and left for the stage. Watcher was fine, he gave his hat to Ashley and jumped into the crate to take him to the B-Stage. What was that thing the light was reflecting off by Sister?

    It’s the IV, for those infusions she was just telling you about.

Maybe she finally watched Star Wars and bought a lightsaber, maybe she finally watched the films like he’d told her to do for years now.

    He was being taken away to the B-Stage, and of course his father shows up. Slightly less fine but it’s okay. He’s already dead, there’s nothing to worry about there.

    She’ll join him soon. The Great Beyond calls her.

    “Listen and obey your mother.”

    Say goodbye while you still can.

“You don’t get it. Just listen to her for my sake and try to do it.”

    No. She’s not sick, she’s not dying.

    “For the new guy.”

    You’re going to take over. You inherited a title from your father, now it’s your mother’s turn.

“Right.”

    No! Why did he say that? Everything’s fine. Nothing’s happening.

    If You Have Ghosts went fine. Well, more than fine, those Ghoulettes are amazing. Chills all around from their gorgeously haunting talents. The speech he gave was one he was quite proud of. He didn’t know where it came from, he just knew he needed to assure his fans.

    Listen to what you say. It’s your life. Your ups and downs. You’re allowed to be sad about your mother, you’re allowed to enjoy your show.

    Twenties was amazing, the dancers too. Dewdrop’s solo, everyone hit their marks. And he went back for his black robes. He got to his spot for Ashely to meet him and looked over to Sister Imperator.

    She’s in her wheelchair because her chair that supports her joints is back home. Her IV is there, she’s taking more of her pills. She’s looking paler and paler each song. She wants you to know she’ll be okay but you keep refusing her. Refusing the truth. She loves you, let her be your mother this last time. Be her son while you still can.

Wait, why do his clothes feel different. He’s in his robes? When did that happen? What’s this on his chest? He picks up a cross. And drops it back down. Inverted only please.

    Just like how you invert reality.

The flame mortars were, thankfully, fine and went off on cue, just like he did to hand his Cornette over to Ashley. He looked over and Swiss was switching his guitars, Rain was taking his jacket off. It was fine.

    Sister she was… being seen to by a doctor, in her wheelchair, another IV linked up.

    She’s getting worse, and fast.

No, she was in her nice chair with her tea.

    Look at her doctor’s face, she knows Sister just needs to be comfortable now.

The doctor was rubbing her arm. Sister looks grave, staring at Copia.

    Copia willed the fog in his head to stop. For reality to come forward. He felt like he could feel every fibre of his robes yet none of them at all. He could see Sister clearer than clear and yet there was two of her, blurred and dancing around. What was happening?

    He Is. That’s what’s happening, he can deal with this later.

    Later, she’ll be gone.

    Miasma, he almost dreaded tonight because of course they would choose the middle of the show to have some family intervention. It was too mortal for Copia. He couldn’t bear to listen, yet the fog was gone. Sister in her chair and IV, her pills and wine as clear as day.

    His mind was on autopilot during Mary On A Cross. He wasn’t sure what his body was doing because all his mind could see was how it ended for his parents after that show in the Whiskey-A-Go-Go. In the cartoonish fashion of the shows he would stay up and watch with Sister. She would be scolded for it by the Sister Superior of the Orphanage, but both would promise to do it again.

    At least Mummy Dust went fine. No issues there, not his growls, the canons, nothing. Well, his shoe broke, but that’s easy enough to fix. Just Respite On The Spitalfields to go now.

    You sung it yourself, nothing ever lasts forever. Soon, she will go softly into the night.

He’s not doing an encore. He’s going to have a night out, maybe drink a bit with Sister. She had her wine goblet before, maybe it was a new red she had yet to introduce him to.

    Sister called him over, talking him into it. For a shocking moment of clarity, he saw his mother as she is. Ill, weak, begging for her son’s understanding.

    “Okay.” He told her, grasping her hand for dear life.

    Kiss The Go-Goat, Dance Macabre with the dancers again. It went great. He ran back for his red jacket. And saw his mother and father.

    “Right here, right now.” He said. And he was, high on adrenaline and everything feeling so good. He could see the chair, but he couldn’t focus on it.

    “See you on the other side, son.” Sister told him.

    The other side, when he returned, took him away. They all waved him off as he floated off in his balloon. Safe. Away. Disconnected. He was free. Soaring in a different realm to the others where it was just him, he didn’t need to hurt here. So free, so far. He could see Sister staring at him, something was wrong in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t like heights, Kevin was helping her down the stairs after all.

    It’s funny, Copia would think later, how much of an illusion his mind carefully structured for him to hide from the pain. Yet, it all came crashing back down so quickly.

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[revrw]

𝙪𝙣𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

;; heeseung x y/n oneshot

→ 710 words

→ a/n : :3333

©revrw

"Y/N!" A voice called out from behind. 

Y/n was caught off-guard by the sudden cry. Just who would shout out her name out of nowhere? Someone who was close to her most-likely. 

Y/n turned around to exchange eye contact with none other than her best friend, Heeseung. More like, someone whom she knew has a crush on her.

"Hey!" Y/n waved at him.

Heeseung did not reply but instead was busy observing someone at a distance. 

"Who..are you staring at?" Y/n walked up to him and followed his line of sight. He was apparently looking at her colleague from work. 

"Who is he?" Heeseung questioned as he switched to face Y/n.

"H-Huh?" Y/n suddenly became flustered.

"You heard me, who is he?" 

"Um he's just someone I know from work."

"I see…"

Heeseung could only stare at Y/n with annoyance as she yapped away, trying to convince him that the man earlier was just her colleague. Damn right, a colleague. A colleague that would wave her goodbye right outside her apartment building and waited like a dog till she was gone. A colleague that would be out with her at nearly midnight.

His fists clenched as if waiting to blow a punch to someone. Can't believe that his crush was playing with him again. First it was her embarrassing him in a restaurant by rejecting his (10th) confession, and now this. After all the 'dates' that Heeseung took Y/n to, as try as he may, he knew that Y/n would not return with the same feelings as him.

"Y/n, I…I-" Heeseung paused and contemplated his choice of words. He was at loss. He has been itching to lash out his anger at her all the while but he knew he wasn't the type to do so. 

Y/n could not help but notice Heeseung trying hard to control his temper. He is a man who has a way with his words and she knew that he wanted to express himself in the best way possible.

"Heeseung." 

"Y-Yeah?"

"Listen, fine I'll explain," Y/n sighed.

"I have been planning and preparing for the perfect time for me to invite you to dinner. Our final dinner together, as friends. I-I still don't know that much about you and that's why I have been postponing this. I wanted everything to be to your liking. And also the reason I have been refusing to return my feelings for you."—

Heeseung's eyes quivered as he tried hard to maintain eye contact. He did not know why he was having trouble seeing. Y/n was just too pretty.

—"The man you saw earlier is, of course, my friend from work, but also the friend who has been helping me with all these preparations. He is a man after all so I took into consideration that he would help me decide on gifts that you would like."—

Heeseung gave up and gazed at Y/n's lips as she spoke. It was seemingly easier for him to process his thoughts together without having the pressure of someone staring down at him.

—"blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah" —

Heeseung could not focus at all. It was something about how Y/n's lips moved as she talked. The plump and delicate lips of her were too much to handle. The pauses she took in between sentences and how the unnoticeable habit of her pouting. It is something he has not noticed till now, of how mesmerising Y/n looked while she talked.

—"blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah"—

‘What if I just-’ Heeseung shook his head, his eyes still fixated on Y/n's lips. His thoughts have trailed too far off. At this point, he did not even register whatever Y/n was saying anymore. Words were coming in one ear and out the other.

—"blahblahblahblah…and that's why I just love you so much," Y/n sheepishly smiled.

Heeseung sprang his head up upon hearing those words. He was in awe — rather, felt surprised— that she did this all with him in her thoughts. So that's why she has been busy lately as well.

"I'm sorr-"

Heeseung hugged Y/n tightly, not giving her the chance to breathe out another word.

"Is this a confession?" He chuckled. 

"Mhm," Y/n broke out of the hug and stared lovingly into his eyes.

"Gosh finally," Heeseung finally cried out his hard-earn tears.

[catboyaesthetic]

Ironsworn - Part 2.

This story was made with the help of playing Ironsworn by Shawn Tomkin. Please read more about it here.

In Pursuit of Arms

As I step outside, I look around for something resembling a blacksmith, a trader, or anything that might provide me with arms of any sort.

( Gather Information, 3+3 Wits vs. 2 and 0 – Strong Hit! )

I need not search long as the sound of iron being hammered fills the empty streets of Damula. The plume of a forge at work fills the already gray sky with a darker shade of it, and it seems to be the one of the few sources of sound and life within this hollow town. Why the Dead insist on assaulting this place, I don’t know. There seems to be little worth conquering.

I follow the sound along the muddy paths that suck away at my boots and venture over to the blacksmith, where I find a woman working away beneath an awning on an as of yet unremarkable piece of iron. Her work has made her lean, and she swings what I know to be a heavy tool like it’s a stick. Her skin is slick with sweat which glistens with the light of the forge behind her. Blacksmiths are hard and hardy folk, and she is no exception. Her hair is tied back with a headscarf that might once have held colour, but has long since grown dark with soot. Upon my arrival, she is either too involved in her work or cares too little for my presence to look up, and so I clear my throat and call out to her. “Greetings and good tidings to you, noble friend.” The woman continues hammering for a while, then quenches the blade – a touch too early for my personal tastes judging from the glow, but I keep my commentary to myself and merely smile. She pulls it from the water once more and lets it rest before finally turning to me and sizes me up in a way that seems to be something of a cultural staple at this point. “Don’t know you, so I’m not your friend.” She declares while she removes her gloves and sets them on her anvil. The thought strikes me that it seems a poor idea to rest one's sweat-filled gloves on your workspace. Especially as a blacksmith. I raise my hands defensively. “Of course, I don’t mean to claim undue familiarity-“ “Say less, you’ll tie your tongue in knots if you keep yapping like that." She interrupts. "You need something, clearly, so out with it.” I like her. I’m not sure what it is that keeps drawing out the courtier in me. Maybe Hann had more of an influence on me than I thought, and a pit opens in my stomach as I think on him. “Very well,” I say, “I’d like a weapon. You look like you make them. Do you have any?” She folds her arms across her chest and sniffs. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve been working on something special for someone." She pauses for a while. "I don’t think he’s gonna need it any time soon.” “Why?” “He died.” She replies brusquely, her face a mask. ”Fool got himself killed. Should’ve waited until I’d finished what I’d been working on.” Her tone carries something more than just cold judgement. Though I cannot be sure, her voice lingers with grief, and for a moment I feel we are kin. After a moment of searching, she turns back with bundle wrapped in cloth and sizes me up once more. “I’ll warn you, this isn’t as practical or as easy to wield as a spear or an axe. This is a proper weapon of war.” As she draws up the cloth, she reveals a longsword so lovingly crafted, I feel unworthy of wielding it. Despite its basic design, the simplicity of it served to give it an air of elegance rather than a crudeness of form. The crossguard is a simple affair, two prongs pointing outward. But the way they thinned ever so slightly allowed it to serve as a pick. The hilt was covered with black leather and the pommel resembled the waves that crashed against the cliffs nearby. Its balance of decoration and purpose was well-weighted, and I look upon the blacksmith then with fresh respect and admiration. Her ability to restrain herself while still adding art to what was ultimately made to be a tool was nothing short of exemplary, and this work of hers made me believe her talents were wasted, in this hole at the end of the world.

None of this I said to her. It is one of my many regrets. As I held the unveiled sword by the cloth underneath it, I wondered how I was going to pay for it. She must have been able to read it off my face. “Can’t afford it, can you?” She asks, and I hear no pity in her voice. I hear frustration instead, and I think to myself I should have informed her earlier. Still, this is something I need to fulfill my vow, and I turn to the blacksmith. “No. I can’t.” I say, then hand the sword back to her to indicate that I have no intention of stealing it. She takes it, wraps it back up, and we stare at one another for a little while before the silence grows to thick and I speak up once more.

( Compel, 5+3 vs. 6 and 9. – Weak Hit. )

“I need this.” I tell her plainly, “I will do whatever it takes to earn it.” Again, there is that look in her eye. She takes my measure for the third time it seems, and whatever influences her to answer me, I cannot thank them enough for their intervention. “Alright,” she replies without so much as blinking. “You can have it. I’ll even let you have the scabbard that I had made for it.” She turns around and goes to gather the sword and its holder, but before she puts it away, she holds it out to me. Instinct flashes and I move just enough to keep away from the point, stopping myself from stepping in and breaking her arms as my mind catches up with my body to realise she means no harm. If she notices, she does not show it. “I have a condition,” she begins. “I made this for one of my dearest friends.” It visibly pains her to speak of him, and it is obvious she is not used to crying, nor doing so in front of another. “He was a selfless man. Kind. Generous.” Her lips tremble, and her eyes swim with tears. “He taught me the craft and did not envy my ability when I proved to be his better in a matter of months. I made this as thanks for giving me a chance all those years ago. For giving me a home. For-” Her whole face twitches with effort it takes to keep her grief in check. She does not finish the rest of her eulogy. After a moment, she can speak again. Her voice is quiet but filled with anger. The words slip past her clenched teeth like knives. “Swear that you will avenge him. That you will drench this weapon to the hilt with death and gore in his name.” In a quiet voice I am surprised to hear is my own, I ask “What was his name?” “Themon,” she decrees. I feel like a knight within the stories as she hands the blade to me. “And this blade shall be known as The Ire of Themon.” Her eyes burn into me like the forge she works at. She entrusts me with what feels like a holy relic to avenge her. The world blurs and for a moment it is just her and I. “Swear it.” She demands, the façade of divine composure cracks and I see the pain and desperation in her face for a heartbeat. How could I refuse her when I know this depth of loss? I take the sword from the cloth that has held it for so long and nod. “I swear it. Upon the Ire of Themon, to drench this blade in the gore and death of those who took them from you.”

( Swear an Iron Vow. 4+3 Heart vs. 8 and 8. – Miss! )

As I accept, I see the relief wash over her. The tears flow freely but she smiles nonetheless. I don’t know what I’ve done to help relieve this burden by taking it upon myself, but I feel woefully unprepared. Should I not try to put Themon to rest? Perhaps he has joined the Innumerable. What are their rites that ensure they end up in their proper resting places? I fear I have already sank myself too deep in the people of this land. It seems ludicrous to think merely slaying the dead will honor the memory of Themon. To claim I have killed enough after a single individual would feel insulting towards his memory, however technically correct a life for a life might be. I will strive to ask myself after every kill to see if I cannot be guided by the spirit of Themon and see if he is sated. How, I do not know. But I know he will only depart once he will have had enough. It’s strange. I’ve never been one for religion or the spiritual. Yet here I am, seriously considering the satisfaction of a ghost. “Thank you,” the blacksmith says with a softness I did not expect to hear, and I can only nod in response. As I slide the blade inside of its scabbard and tie sword belt to my waist, I wonder what it is that makes these people so trusting. The thought occurs to abandon my vow the moment I make it. That I would never have to see her again and yet gain a tool. I recoil from my own mind and a sense of disgust washes over me. What separates us from beasts if we cannot even keep our word? I look up at the sky and wonder when the sun will set. Or perhaps there is no setting of the sun here. I shrug off the thought. Only time will tell. I give the blacksmith a final glance, then set out into the gray once more.

Trespasser and Treason

As my feet get sucked into the mud beneath with every step, I wonder how feasible it is to keep this vow. I must stay realistic. Sentiment ought not to interfere with my mission. I must stay focused and keep up the search for Lena. I’ve not even been here a day and already I am getting distracted. Perhaps it is best if I set out from here. I can keep my vow to Themon if I slaughter the dead elsewhere. Damula will stand as it has been all this time even without my interference. What difference can one man truly make in the onslaught of the dead? I push away the part of me that balks at such a transgression. Am I not a man of honor? Do I not expect the word of another be kept when I give it? It stings, and yet I cannot indulge myself in every flight of fancy. I am here with a mission. I am here for Lena. In the effort to distract myself from my musings, I look around for a place where I might find further information or supplies.

( Gather Information, 2+3 Wits vs. 5 and 9 – Miss! )

At a glance, there is no leads to be found. It is obvious that what food there is is scarce, and I think no one would be eager to part with it to benefit a stranger. I suck in air through my teeth and consider my options. Theft is always an option. But first I must find a store of it. There is no granary here, there seems to be no collective organization whatsoever to begin with. Having already taken a sword from the blacksmith and not wanting to impose on Kendri, I go to investigate a nearby hovel. No light flickers within, nor does any sound seem to come from it. It seems abandoned for as far as I can tell. I step closer and look inside.

( Gather Information, 2 + 3 Wits vs 5 and 9 – Miss! )

Nothing. Not even the suggestion that food has ever been cooked here remains. By all accounts, it seems no one has lived here for years. The dust is thick and nature has crept back inside. As I watch, I see a pair of small eyes looking back at me. A rodent, one I can’t identify. We share a moment staring at one another before it continues. Perhaps thinking me no threat to its existence. An assumption that might prove to be wrong should hunger ever set in proper. For now, however, it is safe.

I move on and walk to another hovel which seems deserted. It is the same, though the design is slightly altered. I think this one used to have an accommodation to house animals. The rot has long since set in. Time and neglect has been a greater threat to this place than anything else. Still, I glance around for a moment before I set foot within.

( Scavenge, 5+3 Wits vs. 10 and 3 – Weak Hit. ) ( +2 Supply, - 2 Momentum. )

As my eyes get used to the dim light within and I step inside, I hear the ruckus I have caused to the small lives that have since taken up residence. A family rodents scurry away, with one rat-looking thing staring at me defiantly before it decides to leave with the others. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought to have seen accusation within those little eyes. But they are no concern of mine. As quietly as I can as not to draw attention to myself, I begin to rummage through the dust-covered interior. Some baskets remain, chewed open by the current residents no doubt. But as I think to move on, I catch a glimpse of something. I find myself suddenly in possession of a ham. Salted to the brink and back, to be sure, but a ham all the same. The thought strikes me that perhaps this may once have been part of one of the animals they kept here. A grim thought, and one I don’t linger on. I find myself compelled to thank the long since departed beast who will feed me for a good while yet and look around to find something to wrap it in. There is nothing clean, but I find a piece of scrap linen and a simple disheveled linen satchel in which I can carry it. Like most everything here, it has holes in it. But the damage is minimal enough that it will do in a pinch, and it is a pinch I find myself in. I look around for a while longer and find nothing of immediate use. As I make to leave, my eye falls upon something glistening from the dim light of the doorway. Tucked away in a corner of the hovel lies an amulet and the remains of the piece of leather that served to turn it into a necklace. It is an intricately carved wooden idol of some kind, a warrior, clad in armour and a helmet, with his spear at the ready. If I am to believe the common conventions of religious imagery, I don’t think I would be remiss in assuming this is some kind of talisman meant to bring fortune in battle or war. Perhaps it is meant to represent some kind of god or spirit. As I turn it over in the dim light of the room, I find myself unable to put it back down. I put it in the satchel absently and turn to leave the house, feeling as I have taken and trespassed enough.

As I walk around the town, something pulls at my attention. I find it difficult to think with my mind continuously returning to the talisman within my satchel. My mind tumbles over several questions. Is it a ward of some kind? It seems likely, given that things that ought to be feared are likely not worn. But then, what does it ward? Who does it serve? By what forces does it function? Questions ebb and flow, with answers nowhere to be found. Before I know it, the darkness has set in. The sun – what little presence it has – vanishes beneath the horizon within minutes, and soon the only light that remains are torchlight. Within this vast abyss of darkness there are only flickers of light scattered around Damula. Only now does it truly sink in just how empty this place is. How many hovels are devoid of life. How few lives remain here, in what feels like the end of the world. I’m unsure whether it’s foolhardiness or hope that keeps these people here. But I suppose one does not exclude the other.

As I make my way back to Kendri’s Rest in hopes of finding a place to sleep or at least rest somewhat comfortably, I notice there are no walls around Damula. A fact that has been stored in the back of my mind for what feels like forever, yet as the dark presses in and the chill creeps up my spine, I find it leaves me vulnerable. Furthermore, there seems to be no watch tower, no guard post. No guards. Tension slips into my steps. My hackles rise to some unseen – or imagined – threat and I take a moment amidst the darkness to look around. Despite the moon, there is nothing I can make out past the reach of a pike. But is that a sound I hear whispering on the wind? No, I’m imagining things.

( Enter the Fray, 3 + 3 Wits vs 9 and 5 – Weak Hit. )

I duck as I hear a familiar whistle and weave away from a sword swung my way. My heart beats in my chest and my feet sink into an all too familiar stance of their own accord. With one fluid motion, I pull the sword from the scabbard, jerking it backwards and slash towards where I believed the strike came from.

( Strike, 6 + 4 Iron, vs 10 and 5  – Weak Hit )

The steel connects, biting flesh. My eyes grow wide with horror and my heart sinks into my stomach as I hear an all too human cry and realize that in my haste, I have struck out at a Damulan. I see him dimly now, outlined in the dark. His face is unreadable, but his body betrays his intent. Before I can speak, he strikes and I am forced to respond in kind.

( Clash, 1 + 4 Iron, vs 3 and 5 – Weak Hit )

I was not trained to take half-measures. He swings wide and I find the block and riposte as if he were a practice dummy. I cannot stop myself from striking. Even as I know doing so means causing harm the people here, I cannot help myself like the lion cannot remove his claws. My hands move without thought and again, I strike. A cut that would have been marked as exemplary now carves a piece out of one of the few lives that remain in Damula. Again, my foe strikes before I can bid him stop.

( Clash, 2 + 4 Iron vs 1 and 7 – Weak Hit )

(End the Fight, 8 vs 5 and 8 – Weak Hit.  Enemy #1 perishes. Another foe appears. )

He is relentless in his assault. Whether in rage or in desperation he throws himself at me. His crude swing does not even come close to threatening me as I simply step aside, and skewer him in the wake of his failed strike. He gurgles something unintelligible in surprise, clings to my sword and I do him the only kindness I can by ending him quickly. He does not deserve to suffer for my mistakes, my shortcomings. I withdraw my sword and try to gather my bearings determining who – or what – it is I was facing.

( Enter the Fray, 6 + 3 Heart vs 1 and 7 – Strong Hit! )

Another foe announces himself with a wrathful cry, and my hands work of their own accord to interpose my blade.

( Strike, 4 + 4 Iron, vs 6 and 10 – Weak Hit. )

From the Ochs guard I thrust forward to provoke him into motion, and he startles, unable to see the follow-up strike coming. I rotate the sword into a powerful diagonal strike with the momentum and feel flesh give way. Sometimes I curse these hands of mine. So keen to deal death. So eager for blood.

( Clash, 5 + 4 Iron, vs 6 and 8 – Strong Hit! )

He strikes once more and I find that this one is more reserved, but still unpolished. He finds my blade blocking his, and barely a heartbeat later, it bites away at his forearm. Even within the cover of dark I can see the first cut against him slowly darken his tunic with a growing pool of blood – grey in this lack of light.

( Strike, 5 + 4 Iron vs 10 and 8 – Weak Hit. )

He reels from pain and he leaves himself open for another assault. I step in and cut at his head which he narrowly avoids, but my sword still finds a mark along his shoulder and he lets out a cry of pain. It is the sound of a man who knows that he is outmatched. Who knows death awaits him. Who knows I am his end.

( End the Fight, 9 vs 8 and 8 – Strong Hit! )

The beginning of a plea of mercy dies on his lips as his head as hewed from his body. I enter a high guard in preparation for another assault as his head hits the mud with a wet thud, but my surroundings stay silent. There is some shuffling and scraping of chairs a little ways away, and some voices go from being muffled from being inside to loud calls outside.

( Secure an Advantage, 3 + 2 Shadow vs 7 and 1 – Weak Hit. )

I know what this’ll look like. They will likely not accept the explanation. To them, I will only be a murderer. Perhaps I am. I wipe my blade clean in a hurry and swiftly sheathe it before fleeing. There is no crowd to vanish into and subsequently no need to look inconspicuous. I will be suspicious simply by being alive in this town no matter what happens or what I say. The dawn will not be kind to me. If the dead assault Damula today, they will not find me among their ranks. I must go. I must go. But where? No matter. The voices grow louder and the streets are too wide and too open to hide well. I have to get out of the open, behind a wall, anywhere but here. My feet carry me onward, ever onward, until at last I am beyond the outskirts and in the darkness proper. I carry onwards, spurred on by the need to leave, away from the consequences of my actions. I cannot outrun them forever. But it’s worked so far.

I keep walking and find the island far smaller than I had hoped it to be. Perhaps it is my conscience catching up to me or the sense of the hounds at my heels. But salvation comes in the shape of a boat tied to a tree at the edge of the island. I don’t know if I’ve been walking for minutes or for hours, but I do know that I return to the world of the living once the boat comes into view. I take off my sword belt and satchel and lay it into the boat before hoisting myself in and using the paddle that had been laying within to lead myself into more open waters. I hear no one in my wake and yet I still feel as if the hounds could be upon me at any moment. I have not looked back since I fled from Damula. I hope never to return. I unfurl the sail and set it into the wind and let it carry me from my latest sins. I have memorized a map of this land but I don’t recognize the stars in this place. Thus, I cannot lead myself north. It seems I am well and truly lost. No matter. The sun will show me where the north is come morning. Until then, I'll try to rest. But sleep does not come.

[gojology]

Fine Dining and Roses.

back to homepage pairing : nanami kento x gender neutral reader warnings : cursing (i think), i didn’t proof-read, fluff i guess? wordcount : 1600 a/n : this is my first nanami related anything and omg the way i headcanon him makes him appear as some sort of old man asuhjdnsajkdnsa LOL ████████████████  100% Complete. Enjoy your game.

        Crossing your legs, you nervously tap your foot against the table’s legs, you weren’t used to such a professional atmosphere. This certainly wasn’t commonplace, after all, you even saw some top names from the Japanese filming industry chatting and eating, and you swear you’re sweating bullets. Nervously wiping at your forehead with the handkerchief graciously gifted to you by the waiters, you straighten your back.       “Relax.” you hear your boyfriend say, and you look up to stare at his eyes. Striking, one would almost say dead, but you see a lukewarm smile on his lips that someone would otherwise call scary, but you knew Nanami like that.      Wearing a black dress suit, alongside a crisp dress shirt- not even a wrinkle in sight- he paired them with casual black slacks. The whole thing that brought the outfit together? You were almost sure it was the belt, but you wondered why he was always so over the top, no matter for what occasion.       “Sorry.” you breathe out, and he chuckles dryly before taking off the black dress suit, neatly placing it over the cushioned chair.       “Why would you apologize for that?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm sprinkled in his voice, and you swear your heart is just about to burst.       “...I don’t know, okay?!” you reply, your cheeks warming up, you would never hear the end of this for the rest of the night, but you didn’t mind. When Nanami teased you, it made your heart flutter. Maybe it was because he was serious and cold with everyone else, and so playful and bright with you, you weren’t entirely sure.       “How cute. Do you want a drink?” he questioned before picking up the menu, eyes briefly scanning it. You too pick up the menu, and your eyes damn near bulge out of your head.       Expensive alcohol, expensive casual drinks, expensive everything. Was it even legal to charge 70$ for a simple bottle of sake? You weren’t even going to get into the wine, that was on a whole other level.       “Well, my love? You don’t need to worry about the expenses.” he placed the menu down, calculating eyes boring into your soul. “I work a boring job just to spoil you, after all.”       “These are really expensive...” you don’t lock eyes with him, even though you had dated him for a long time, you still found those eyes to be sort of scary. Not in a bad way necessarily, but just... Scary.       “I’ll just have a water-”       “No. You will not be having water. You always worry too much about money.” he leaned over the table, thumb placed onto your chin, slightly tipping your head upwards. The rest of his fingers caressing your skin in any way possible.       His fingers were cold to the touch, and you shiver, eyes darting left and right before you build enough courage to look at him back. He’s not looking at you, rather, the menu you were holding- and he was looking at it upside down.      Did this guy have anything he was bad at?      “Hm, darling, didn’t you say you like sweet tea? This is fairly inexpensive, 25 dollars?” he pointed at the inscription, a picture of sweet tea right next to it. You had to admit, it did look yummy, and you swallow just now realizing how dry your throat is.       “No.. I think I’ll just have water-”       “Listen, love.” he looked back up into your eyes. “I know you want it, just say it already.”        That was also something you always loved about Nanami, he was persistent and stubborn. You didn’t mind water, but you also didn’t mind sweet tea, you just didn’t want to create a deeper hole in his wallet.       “Let’s skip appetizers.” sitting back down on his seat, he yawned before placing an arm on the table, arm rubbing against the white stainless cloth.       Looking back up from your menu, you look at his sandy blonde hair that you found yourself to comb with your hands mercilessly every single night, he always was annoyed when you did it, and you can’t help but question what he would do now- especially since he had brushed it to look perfect.       “I know what you’re thinking. No. You’re not going to do that. Did you pick anything yet?”       “How’d you know?- You know what, nevermind.” shaking your head, you giggle. It was like he could read your mind.       “Uh, this sounds good. The grilled salmon?” you were talking out of your own ass, to be truthful. Fancy restaurants weren’t your thing, and nor was the food. Salmon was familiar enough.       “Wonderful choice. I knew I picked well when I started dating you, my sweet.” crossing his arms, he had an arrogant smile that he couldn’t quite hide from you, it just showed how much you mattered to him, as he didn’t hand out compliments like candy.      “May I take your order? We have a special Valentines Day sale, so every dish is 10% off.” the waitress whipped out a notepad, pencil behind her ear. Even the work uniforms here were formal.      “Yes, thank you ma’am.” Nanami licked his finger before flipping the page of his menu. “May we have grilled salmon, for the both of us, sweet tea, and champagne?”      God, you found his polite tone so attractive for little to no reason.      The waiter quickly jotted everything down, before nodding. “Alright, I’ll be back with your drinks! Please let me know if you need anything~” before walking off, and you can still hear the clacking of her heels against the floor.       Once the waiter was gone from both of your vision’s, Nanami turned back to look at you, as he was admiring the architecture of the establishment.      “You’re adorable.” was all that left his lips. Blushing, you awkwardly smile at him back, you weren’t good with compliments, and he knew you weren’t. He just found you so endearing.      “Shut up, Nanami.” his arm reached out to touch yours, and so did yours. Briefly touching each others hands, he stared lovingly at you, and you did so back.       “Ahem.”       Immediately jumping up, you look at the waiter, who had a smug all-knowing grin plastered onto her face. Two drinks sat on top of a silver platter, one had a lemon slice on the side, and the other was obviously champagne.      “Your sweet tea and champagne, your food will be coming out shortly.”       Nodding, you turn to face Nanami yet again, praying that he didn’t see you jolt up like that, but his sly smile says otherwise.       “Are you that embarrassed that the world knows your mine?” he had a neutral look on his face, and you take a second to marvel at his cheekbones and defined jawline before snapping out of your daze.       “It was only one person! That’s not the whole world, Nana!” you say, growing more comfortable in your seat, surprisingly it was pretty fun being here. Taking a light sip of your sweet tea, you savor the slight lemon-y taste.       “Nana. That’s a new one.” scoffing, he too took a sip of his beverage, smacking his lips together. “I like it.”       “The drink or?”       “Both, but I think I like you more.”       Not knowing how to respond to that, you look down at your lap, and you hear him laugh a little before feeling him plant a kiss onto your forehead, whipping out his phone as he sat back down on his chair.      “Hmmm... The stock market isn’t doing so well right now.” he turned his back on you, whispering to himself. The guy swore to every God out there that he was not interested in his job, but you just knew he had an interest in finances in general, which you also liked about him. He was dorky, in his own way, and it was adorable.     “Blegh... Nerd talk, nerd talk.” Placing your arm on your table and resting your hand on your chin, you use your unoccupied one to have your hand seem to yap away- 4 fingers repeatedly tapping against your thumb so that it looked like a mouth.       “It reels in copious amounts of money, but I fucking hate it, haven’t I told you this multiple times?” he tsked.      “Language, Nanamin!” you warn, as if you could place a finger on him, ignoring his previous comment.      “Yeah, yeah. Oh hey, look, she’s back with our food.”       Looking back up, the first thing you realize was how god damn delicious the salmon looked, and your stomach grumbles with excitement, the other? A bouquet of roses that she was holding, rogue rose petals dancing down onto the floor, a bow loosely wrapping the flowers together.       It takes a while to recognize what Nanami had done prior to this.       Looking at him, your mouth opening and closing, eyes wide open, you try to speak but you can’t. He gazes back unanswering, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know, he probably doesn’t regret it.      “Nanami Kento-”      “Shhh...” he shushes you up, crossing his legs, before letting his sneaking smile go free. “Happy Valentines Day, darling.”       “Fuck you! Is this why you didn’t let me take you out for a date this time around?” you whine.      Nanami covered his mouth, but you can still hear him laughing. Truthfully you gave no fucks, and was just happy that Nanami was so romantic, but the guy was gonna be the death of you.      “Love you too, darling.”      Yeah, he definitely was going to be the death of you, but at this point, you didn’t care.     

[yandere-sins]

The Fox Wedding - Marry Kita

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke x afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Rough Handling, Blasphemy, Tying of wrists/ankles

You heard about Fox’s Weddings, however, only ever in connection with rain on a sunny day. How fitting that outside the small preparation room you had been led to, sprinkles of rain were falling to the ground, lit by the sunshine sparkling in them. For almost an hour now, you simply watched the droplets fall, all while everyone around you was pulling and tearing on you, bustling about with preparations. It might not have been the best time to contemplate your life, but what else was there for you to do. 

Beneath the white, beautiful, ceremonial kimono, your wrists were tied with ropes, and so were your ankles. The rope itself seemed to had better days in the past, but the knots were intricate, and the woman who did them seemed like she knew what she was doing. As if this wasn’t the first time she tied someone up like that. 

Perhaps, there had been others before you. You hoped not, but you wouldn’t put it past them. Your life was transient, while theirs seemed to be boundless. It was weird, and you had only been here for a night, but you were slowly getting used to their faces. Yes, their eyes seemed too sharp, and their mouths too wide, but some had wrinkles, scars, or pimples. You saw your own species in them, even with their tails sticking out from their kimono and their ears twitching on top of their heads. Scary as it was, the longer you watched them hustle about, the less weird they looked to you. The more you could find yourself accepting them. 

Sighing was all you could do as you looked back outside, the tall grasses still swaying in the wind. Occasionally, you saw a fox run by. Sometimes the animal stopped, sometimes it didn’t. You didn’t see the two men - three if you counted the one that came with Kita - from your window again, and no one came to help you escape. The more hours passed as you were alone in your cell, the less hope you had for anyone to come and save you. Even the gods - if there were any - seemed to have abandoned you, allowing something like this to happen. You began to despair, but soon enough, you slept. Slept until they woke you up with their sharp nails and hectic demeanors, having to make you presentable and, as they put it, make a jewel out of a rock.

You were still drowsy when they bathed you in shockingly cold water, your reaction being enough for them to decide they did not want to deal with you throwing another tantrum, tying you up before proceeding with their preparations. Surrounded by their yapping voices, their nails leaving many, many tiny cuts on your body, something in you… gave up. You weren’t proud, and you weren’t happy, but at least they stopped lecturing and patronizing you as your struggles ceased and your expression turned somber. 

Finally, they stopped their nagging, gave you water and bread instead to consume. The women of the village let you go to a proper toilet, and they sent out the guards before they undressed and re-dressed you. At least, that much dignity you regained by not resisting. Of course, it was still strange to imagine you were about to marry the head of their clan, a fox spirit nonetheless, and looking into their faces was nothing short of agonizing. But staring out into the rain and being able to block their voices out from your hearing gave you some peace with the situation, no matter how absurd it might be.

“Miss?” you heard from beside you. Slowly, almost as if in pain that you couldn’t resist the urge to acknowledge the person who was speaking, you turned your head, letting out a soft hum instead of an answer. “Kita-sama wishes to speak to you before the ceremony. We’ll close the doors now, is that alright?”

Silly question, you thought, nodding slowly. You still had a hard time remembering anyone’s names or faces, but you were sure the young fox woman who just spoke to you got introduced as your liegewoman or maid. Whatever she was, you couldn’t quite remember exactly, but they never asked you for your consent for anything before, so you didn’t know how else to react but to nod. 

“Isn’t it bad luck for him to see me before the wedding?” you asked her. It wasn’t like you cared if he saw you or not, but now that someone had spoken to you like a normal person, the question that came to mind just fell off your lips without any restraints. 

“I… I--” she stuttered, her brows furrowing while her ears twitched nervously. “--I don’t know?”

What had you expected? Of course, she didn’t know. She was a fox. How would she know human rituals other than the ones that might have been passed down to them hundreds of years ago? At the same time, you felt the dread of knowing you’d have to marry into this kind of environment. An environment that wasn’t going to nurture your talents, skills, or knowledge, aside from - and you dreaded this thought the most - producing babies. 

She looked at you curiously, yet hesitant, as if she wanted to ask something, but decided not to last minute. Perhaps it was the fact you were wearing the wedding robes now that they started to respect you more. Or maybe, she just fulfilled expectations of her, which you found most likely. In the unlikely event that she merely pitied you, you couldn’t help but agree with her.

As they closed the sliding door to the outside, you watched the rain - your only source of comfort - vanish from your vision, pitying yourself too.

One more sigh did you heave before the door to the hallway opened, the foxes respectfully bowing their heads. Even if you had wanted to bother getting up, you couldn’t have, considering your feet were rendered useless, with your ankles tied up still. You didn’t acknowledge him or looked up as he spoke, asking everyone to leave him alone with his ‘bride’ - a word that sent a chill down your spine - and you didn’t face him even as he sat down beside you, covering your fist with his hand. You made him responsible for all of this, for all the emptiness you felt. But all you could do to punish him was avoiding him, no matter how much it upset you that there wasn’t more you could do. 

“[Name],” Kita spoke softly, and you weren’t sure if you heard happiness swing in his voice as he called out to you or if it was the usual indifference you were used to from him. Unfortunately, Kita knew what to do with you, even if you tried to ignore him so vehemently. By lifting your hand, he also pulled on the second one, and though you forced yourself to stretch, you were no match to his insistence that you’d turn around to face him. Letting your eyes sink to your hands, you watched him kiss both of them on the back lovingly, nothing but affectionately despite how demanding Kita was. 

“It’s finally the day,” he sighed, and for a matter of seconds, his lips curled into a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for too long. I did everything I could, not for the Gods, but for them to finally gift you to me in this ceremony.”

“There’s no such thing,” you whispered, genuinely believing in the absence of gods if they allowed a mere spirit to capture, kidnap and force you into a marriage with him. 

“It wasn’t easy to get to this day, but you’ll soon see that life will be good. I will protect and cherish you, no matter what. I’ve been--”

Breath hitching, Kita stopped, and for the first time, you looked up at him as you expected the sentence to finish eventually. But all he did was look up, right back at you, and smile. As if these words never left him. As if there was something he was hiding. That moment you swore, even if it was the last thing you did, you’d find out what. There was no way you’d let him off that easily. Even if it was a tiny spark, you felt the fire burn up again inside of you. The fire of resistance and fight that you had drowned with your sorrows returned as you yanked your hands out of his, letting him know exactly what you felt. 

“This marriage is nonsense! None of us will be happy with it, even if you declare your devotion as if you’d actually care about me!”

“I do,” Kita was quick to counter, even with hints of indignation in how clearly he spoke those words. 

“You don’t. If you did, you’d let me go.” Unyielding, your hands returned to their place in your lap and your eyes back to the tatami mats on the ground before you. “A caring husband would listen to his wife and help fulfill her wishes! But you don’t do that at all… All you do is keep me like an animal, captured in a trap--”

“Stop!” 

For the first time, you actually felt fear that froze you as his hand landed in the back of your neck. Even with the fabric covering you, Kita instinctively found it, his fingers clasping right around the flesh around your spine. Never before had he raised his voice like that, and though for a moment his eyes widened too, when you finally looked at him again pleadingly, unable to even reach back to pry him off you, all you saw was disgust. 

“Stop saying things you don’t understand anything about.”

Giving your helpless body a rough shake, you couldn’t help but burst out into tears from the pain of his hand in your neck and also the fear you felt as he scolded you like a young dog, looking at you condescendingly. “P-Please--” you winced, and Kita let go as suddenly as he had attacked you. Cowering low and rubbing the back of your neck with only one hand carefully, you could feel a headache growing, your body not being made for being disciplined like an animal. 

You flinched as Kita leaned over you, his hands on both of your shoulders, holding you down. He didn’t do anything as you sobbed your eyes out, just sat there, covering you with his body and keeping your head down low. If this was his way of comforting you, it was shitty, but you were too afraid of what he’d do if you resisted or made a fuss again. 

“I want to go home,” you pressed forth between sobs and gritted teeth. “Please just let me go home.”

“This is your home now,” he answered you, his lips next to your ear so that his voice spoke over the sound of your thoughts. 

“No…” you sobbed, shaking your head and feeling his face pressed up to your hair and shoulder with every movement.

“Once we are married, you’ll be happy, I promise. You’ll come to understand your role as my wife, and you’ll feel as happy here as in any other place.”

Finally, the weight on top of you lifted as he sat up, pulling you with him by the collar of your kimono. Once up, this time, he focused his hands on your face alone, turning it over towards him, and wiped away the tears from your eyes with discontent in his expression as he held your cheeks. “I’ll make you happy, [Name]. I am the only one who can do that, for I owe this to you.”

“What?” you croaked, but Kita merely leaned forward to kiss you between your eyebrows before letting go of you completely. Having to support yourself on the floor, you reached out towards him as he stood up. Your pointer was able to snag the seem of his kimono to which you held on tightly even though it almost made you fall over since his movement pulled away the support you had. “Don’t go! Talk to me! Stop speaking in riddles, damnit!”

Your frustration was getting the better of you, but Kita merely leaned down to brush off your hand from his clothes before his hand settled at the back of your head, pushing your forehead down to the ground in a deep, involuntarily bow. “It’s time you learn your place, [Name]. You might find the answers you keep nagging me about when you make me happy.”

Kita didn’t wait for another complaint from you before he strode off, the door opening without him even having to lift a finger. You looked after him, disgruntled and frustrated. In how many riddles could one man speak, without ever giving answers despite seeing you in this pitiful state you were in? Making demands as if he had any right over you and treat you like a pet despite swearing he cared about you? There was no end to his mysteriousness, and even if nothing about this situation was resolved for you, he made it seem like his will was absolute, and it would be a waste of time to tell you more since he had already made up his mind.

“Please return her to a presentable state before the wedding,” Kita ordered softly to one of the women standing in wait in front of the door. “I don’t want to drag this out any longer.”

That was the last you heard of him as he disappeared in the masses of - you assumed they were - servants and curious onlookers which glanced at you with nothing short of irritation. You tried to get yourself up from the floor again, idiotically feeling embarrassed as if you cared about their opinions. But only with the help of the fox lady assigned to you were you able to sit up again.

They were quick to rearrange your hair, which had come loose from Kita’s touches, and when one of the older women threatened to burn your tear glands shut, you even managed to stop your crying so they could fix your make-up. The time spent making you ‘presentable’ seemed even more unreal than the one before where they prepared you for the wedding. Your head was bursting with questions and also the anger over the situation dwelling in it, and at least a little bit, you wished your overthinking would actually end you. 

As they finally pulled you into a stand and led you outside with the ropes replaced by shimmering shackles, allowing you the bare minimum of movement, the drizzling rain and sparkling sunshine no longer consoled you, the rain merely weight heavily in your mind, reminding you of your fate with its name. 

You were to marry into a family of fox spirits, as you agreed upon by a contract. 

You’d marry their head no matter what you thought about it, though he claimed that it would make you happy, even if it really wasn’t.

There was no saying what the future held for you, and the more you thought about it, the less you hoped any of your ideas would come true. 

Yet, what else was there to do but take Kita’s hand as he waited for you at the head of the ceremonial procession? Taking it out of your own free will was less scary than you expected and less painful probably too. His hand was soft, and though awkward, he held it gently, leading you into the direction of what you assumed was a shrine from the looks of it.

“Kita-san, I can’t make you happy. No matter what you say, there’s no way I could love or cherish you after all that happened,” you whispered, only for him - and perhaps some very sharp other pairs of ears - to hear. “I don’t think our marriage will be a happy one, and as long as I live, I will remind you every day.”

“Shinsuke. Call me Shinsuke.”

“Shinsuke… I--”

“I know,” he chuckled, and it made you look up at him wide-eyed. You weren’t even sure he was able to laugh from his demeanor, but for a moment, you caught yourself thinking that it was better than his indifference. “I know you don’t love me, but I…”

His eyes swayed from you up to the green of the trees, the sun reflecting in his irises in sparkles. You followed his gaze from beneath your hood, wondering what he was seeing in the leaves. “I waited many years for this. I can wait many more until you do.”

Stepping through the stone lantern entrance, you didn’t expect the sight of hundreds of different creatures waiting for you. Subconsciously, you squeezed his hand tighter, and he squeezed back almost reassuringly. There was no time to scan through all of what was gathered, some having bodies, others simply… didn’t. You saw feathers and more tails, green skins, and disfigured proportion, but your fiancee kept pulling you forward towards the waiting shrine where the same mysterious flames from the night before were dancing up and down through the hall.

What a world this was, you wondered as you lowered your head again, pitying yourself more than anything at this moment. Why you? What had you done to deserve this treatment? To be confronted and forced into a world you didn’t want to be part of? And, oh, why were there more questions than answers? 

Kita - or Shinsuke, you weren’t sure if you wanted to call him that - took the first step up into the shrine, leading you by his hand, but stopping you before entering further, keeping you outside in the rain still and gaining a defeated sigh from you as you came to a halt. Some part of you just wanted this to be over and not prolong it as he said, but you realized that this was only one of the first of many times that Kita would put his demands on you, ignoring your wishes in favor of his own.

“Even if we are bound by this contract, I want you to know…”

His free hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. A gesture for friends or lovers, not mad spirits that forced you to marry you. But he seemed to have learned how to touch you without his claws hurting you, and as unnerving as his ability to learn was as gentle was his touch to your cheek, caressing your skin even if his touch made your stomach turn in disgust by how intimate it felt. 

“I do love you. I loved you all this time, and by marrying me, you’ll make me happy - even if you aren’t.”

That was when you finally realized it. All this time, you had been bothered by him claiming to care for you, despite putting you through this situation. The hypocrisy of it had nagged you endlessly, but just by his words, you seemed to finally have figured it out. 

Kita did what he thought was best.

It didn’t matter if you disagreed or if it hurt you, as long as it seemed to be the best option for him. Perhaps, in a twisted, self-righteous idea, he did love you in his own way, and no fighting, screaming, and struggling would keep him away from this idea, he manifested in his mind. The idea that wasn’t even remotely close to how humans perceived ‘love’. Even worse than that, you realized that there was nothing you could do that would change his mind. 

Not even the rain falling onto your face and his hand could hide your tears as you realized what kind of a monster you were about to be married to. Someone who didn’t care about you beyond this love he felt and who’d not stop fulfilling his own desires rather than your wishes. But what could you do? You, a mere human who did everything you could have thought of to convince him otherwise? Was there anything else you could have done besides yielding under his pressure? 

Was there anything else than accept Kita’s so-called ‘love’?

➤ Embrace the marriage

➤ Go back to the prologue to change your fate

➤ ?

Read other routes first to unlock more fates

[peachtree-dish]

Chapter 5: Acqua agitata

13 ottobre 1969

There were many things that Luca loved in Signora Mia’s casa, besides the woman herself. He had been fascinated for his first few weeks in Genoa exploring all her books, odds and ends, and souvenirs. When she had first separated from Massimo, Mia had traveled all over Europe spending time in Greece, France, and Whales. From each country, she’d brought home at least one object or decoration, each one holding a special story and memory. Being an artist meant that she had many paintings, most of which were created by her hand, and every wall had been hand-painted by her design. On one wall, in particular, she had painted a colorful homage to the coast of Porto Rosso, featuring Massimo’s house and a detailed view of the town square. This was Luca’s particular favorite, and often while both Mia and Giulia were sleeping at night, he’d sit in front of that mural and read, letting the bright colors wash away his homesickness.

While she was never to be seen without a paintbrush in hand, Mia was also meticulous about keeping her furniture and floors paint-free, any splotches or spills were lovingly restricted to her paint room. Said room opened as both Luca and Giulia walked down the hallway, shredding backpacks, and school jackets as they went.

“Already home, miei cari? The day went by fast!” Mia briskly wiped her paintbrush down and stuck it in the front pocket of her jumper. “Hey, you ragazzi know better than to leave your stuff in the hallway!” She danced around the dropped articles of clothing and made her way into the kitchen space, watching in amusement as both teens sheepishly put the cookie jar back on the counter, a large Amaretti stuffed in their mouths.

“Scusa,” they both mumbled. Luca was the first to return to the disorganized hallway, pressing a crumb-filled kiss to Mia’s cheek in greeting before running to take his things to his bedroom. Nerone yapped playfully at his feet, eagerly hoping for any sweet leftovers as the teen dashed into his room and threw his coat and book bag on the chair by the window. Unlike Giulia’s room in Porto Rosso, there was no direct view of the ocean, however, on clear days he could make out the familiar blue outline above the orange rooftops of Genoa. Today the skies promised rain and Luca briefly wondered if the storm had already hit Alberto and Massimo.

As he pulled the necessary work from his bag, a blue paper slipped out and fell gracefully to the floor. Picking it up, Luca was reminded of his gym teacher’s earlier announcement. The thought made him wince as he re-read the glaring title: Maturazione e salute sessuale. Luca had hoped that he had escaped such discussion from his family during the summer; apparently, he would not be so lucky at school. Deciding to leave the permission slip for later, he grabbed his schoolwork and left the paper on his bed. Luca and Nerone made their way back into the kitchen where Giulia was already sat and speaking animatedly to her mother.

“Signora Bianchi explained energy to us today in earth sciences and said that it can’t be destroyed, only transferred,” Mia nodded as she pulled out a large circular pan before lighting the oven. If his intuition was right, and it usually was when it came to food, that meant pizza.

“And in math, we’ve been adding l’alfabeto in our equations; I wish they wouldn’t do that, it makes everything more complicated,” Giulia groused, pulling out her own math assignments.

“It’s easy if you think about it as balancing the equation,” Luca suggested, unsurprised when Giulia responded by glaring at him across the table.

“But the equation doesn’t look unbalanced to me. Besides,” she rolled her eyes, “why do we care what x is? Maybe x doesn’t want to be found.” Luca snorted and returned to his writing assignment, absentmindedly scratching Nerone’s head as he thought.

“Ah, bambini, not to worry, in three short years you won’t have to worry so much, although,” Mia mused, pressing the dough onto the counter, “if you both study some form of science, I’m afraid math is a must.” She pressed a kiss to Giulia’s forehead when she groaned, laughing with mirth.

“Also, don’t forget that tomorrow is mail day, any letters you have, need to be ready to send and on the table before you go to school, si?”

“Grazie, Signora Mia,” Luca thanked, now thoroughly distracted from his assignment, and wondering how he was going to fit this week’s events into Alberto’s letter.

“How’s your painting, mama?” Giulia asked a few moments later, obviously avoiding the equations that remained blank on her page.

“Benissimo, amore mio, I think my customer will really like it, they wanted something unique, and I doubt they’ll be disappointed!” Signora Mia flipped her wooden spoon in hand and gently nudged her daughter’s shoulder with the handle. “However, I think your professore will indeed be disappointed if you turn in a blank assignment.” Well and truly defeated, Giulia glumly returned to her homework, her expression forlorn.

After trudging through homework and eating a delicious Margherita pizza, the small family of three gathered into the sitting room and played a few rounds of Scopa, Signora Mia’s favorite.

“Aha!” the artist crowed, slapping her cards down in victory, “I win, again!” Luca groaned in defeat, placing his cards next to Giulia’s he sat back and popped his neck. Giulia had resigned herself to fate long ago and simply accepted her loss with a sigh.

“I still think you have a secret strategy that you haven’t shown me yet, mama.” She grumbled good-naturedly. Her mother shrugged smugly as she cleaned up the cards.

“Or the divine simply has favorites,” Stretching her arms, Mia stood to diffuse the fire. “You both have everything you need for tomorrow, vero?” Giulia nodded while Luca paused.

“Actually, Signora, there’s a paper I need you to sign,” He tapered off, fingers twitching nervously. The woman stared blankly at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, it’s part of my health class, I’ll go fetch it for you.” Ears burning, Luca quickly returned with the offending paper and placed it face down in Mia’s waiting hand. As her eyes alighted upon the title, sudden understanding filled her expression and she smiled sympathetically at the embarrassed teen. Giulia peered over her mother’s shoulder and frowned in confusion.

“How come I didn’t get one?”

“Your puberty course happened two years ago, tesoro, this is a continuation for everyone a few years older.” Mia patted Giulia’s face, which contorted into horror at the memory, “I imagine your sex education will start next year.” She mused, her eyes crinkling with unhidden amusement.

“No, grazie, that presentation was enough to last a lifetime, I don’t need to know more.” The small redhead made a face of disgust as she fled the room. “Good luck, Lu!” She called before closing her bedroom door with finality.

Luca and Signora Mia sat for a moment staring at each other, Luca growing redder with each passing second and Mia showing no inclination of saving him from embarrassment.

“So…” perhaps if he prayed hard enough, the ground would swallow him whole. Nerone snored unhelpfully at the side of his chair.

“So, cosa?” She was merciless. Luca’s head began to inch farther between his shoulders.

“Will you sign the slip for me?” he mumbled, eyes nailed to the colorful rug below him.

Mia broke the tension with a laugh, which startled Luca enough to look at her beaming expression.

“Well, the question is if you really want me to,” she motioned to the paper, “if we’re being honest, caro, they won’t teach you much. If you’d prefer, I can answer your questions along with Giulia, or you may go to the presentation with your classmates. The choice is yours, really.” She handed the slip back to him, and he bit his lip in thought as he scanned the dreadful title over with his eyes.

“I think I want to do a bit of both, but” he pressed his teeth harder into his bottom lip nervously, “I’d rather ask questions without Giulia if that’s all right?” Mia smiled warmly at him before nodding her consent.

“Molto bene, what would like to know? I’m not sure if things will be different for you because of your biology, but perhaps some things will cross over.” She sat back in thought and waited patiently for Luca to form his thoughts into words.

“Why don’t we start with what you know, hm?” She pressed gently. Ok, that shouldn’t be too hard, right? Luca felt his stomach drop as he thought.

“W-well, I know that eggs are formed from two mates and that males and females are physically different. That’s…that’s all I know I think.” His nerves started to fade as he thought about what information he had, his logical side pushing his emotions out of the way. “Oh, and I know that girls have their cycles every month to prepare their bodies for new eggs.” He had learned that particular lesson last year when Giulia’s cycle started for the first time. Luca remembered vividly how she had been in pain for nearly a week and often had to wash her clothes and sheets when the bleeding became too heavy. Giulia had learned over the year how to manage it better and be prepared, but Luca did not envy her one bit.

“Do female sea people experience cycles?” Mia interrupted. Luca screwed his face in thought; he couldn’t remember his mother or grandmother mentioning anything.

“I’m not sure, I think there has to be something similar, but I don’t think they have blood cycles.”

Mia hummed in thought. “Is that all you know?” She continued when Luca nodded.

“Well, that’s a good place to start. Maybe let’s talk about the basics, okay?”

They spoke for longer than expected and Luca surprised himself with how many questions he had the more Signora Mia explained.

By the time the first hand on the clock reached one, Luca’s eyelids had begun to grow unbearably heavy, and the fire had become a gentle glow of embers.

“Bene, I think it’s time we both head to bed, no?” Luca nodded his head gratefully. As he bid the older woman goodnight, he stopped short at his door and turned back to Giulia’s mother with renewed trepidation.

“Signora, one more thing?” The artist paused in turn, her bleary eyes focusing on the youth.

“Is it possible for two people of the same…well, the same gender to experience that kind of relationship?” His heart pounded as he waited for her response, and he felt as if his lungs had stopped working properly. The Signora’s eyes immediately sharpened into focus, her gaze appeared to see right through him, and Luca began to fear that she could read his mind.

Then, as if satisfied with what she found, the older woman’s gaze softened, and she smiled again. “Any form of love is a gift, Luca. And while some people may not accept such relations, it is not uncommon for men to find happiness with other men, nor for women to do so with other women. And” she smiled ruefully, “some prefer to not have any relations, sexual or romantic.”

Luca eased his grip on the doorframe and offered his thanks before he hurriedly closed the door. He pressed his back against the white wood, its coolness seeping through his shirt and into his flushed skin. He couldn’t quite admit why that specific question had tumbled out of his mouth, but throughout their conversation images of Alberto and him together had entered his mind and now refused to leave.

Groaning dejectedly into his hands, the brunette threw himself onto the bed and buried himself beneath the covers, begging his mind to stop.

22 Octubre 1969

Walking the hallways alongside Giulia often helped Luca feel grounded where he would otherwise feel distant and out of place. While those of his class were aware of his true form, other grades did not, and he preferred it that way. However, whether they knew or not, Luca often felt like the proverbial ‘fish out of water’, full pun intended. It wasn’t that anyone made him feel different or were unwelcoming, quite the contrary, but Luca couldn’t help but feel isolated at times. With Giulia being a grade younger, their only time shared was before school, during lunch break, and their time at home. The one person he did consider to be a friend and true ally, was Donte Castello, who was quite happy to accompany both him and Giulia in between classes. “Vero, but what was the point of tricking their families if they weren’t going to at least communicate the plan to each other? They could have easily lived and avoided the whole fiasco.” Dante pinched two thick fingers together in exasperation, his expression one of exaggerated disappointment.

“They had to be convincing! I’m not saying it was smart, but you have to admit that teenagers aren’t the best people to trust with secrets.” Giulia rolled her eyes as if this were the most obvious fact in the world. Dante dramatically slapped his hand across his forehead, pretending to faint.

“Are you calling me untrustworthy, Marcovaldo? I feel wounded,” He draped himself pathetically across Luca who stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden weight.

“Are you listening, Paguro? Will you not defend your favorite classmate?” Giulia snorted while Luca chuckled. He patted Dante’s back consolingly.

“I’m sure, you’ll make a quick recovery, Castello.” The taller boy pouted before returning to his upright position.

“Bene, now I know to not come to you when I need anything,” Dante grumbled. His pouting was cut short when a mass of black curls and dark skin ran right into his side. Being nearly the height of Massimo and on his way to being of the same build, Dante hardly budged from his spot. The torpedo that was unsuccessful in sinking his ship, however, had landed on the floor in a dazed heap.

Luca had never seen such curly hair in his life, which was saying something when one considered he knew both Alberto and Giulia. The girl blinked owlishly at the trio before her, her face panicked. She couldn’t have been much older than Giulia, with skin the color of rich coffee and eyes that shined like honey.

“Mi dispiace,” she squeaked, jumping to her feet, and flattening her clothes before ducking into a doorway next to them.

From down the hallway, students were ducking out of the way as a group of students made their way angrily through the corridors. Choruses of laughter followed them, and it soon became clear as to why. Two girls were drenched with water, their makeup creating colorful rivers down their cheeks and splotches on their shirts. The three boys next to them looked as if they had lost a fight with the school trash cans, their scowls just as terrifying as the smell. Luca and Giulia instantly stepped in front of the doorway, further shielding the mystery girl from sight. Once they passed, Dante turned around to face the quivering youth, his arms crossed.

“I don’t suppose that mess had anything to do with you, eh ragazza?” The girl winced when three pairs of eyes focused on her, and she shrank even more.

“They were trying to hurt me,” she mumbled.

“What would a bunch of upperclassmen want with you?” Dante narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. The young girl jutted her chin out defiantly and glared back. “Let’s just say I’m different and they didn’t like that. Are you going to be just like them?”

Luca raised his hands and placed himself between them, not wanting to start any more drama before lunch. “E abbastanza, ragazzi. No, we’re not like them,” he stared pointedly at Dante, who eventually relaxed and shrugged his shoulders in surrender. “I’m Luca Paguro, these are my friends, Giulia Marcovaldo and Dante Castello.” The teen offered his hand, and the girl reluctantly shook it, her expression of distrust clear.

“Luisa Corallina, piacere.”

“You’re new aren’t you? I thought I saw you in the first period.” Giulia asked, her head tilted in contemplation. Luisa nodded reluctantly, her gaze uneasy.

“I… my family just moved here from Sicily this week.”

“Woah, that’s a long way, it must’ve taken you forever to drive that far.”

Luisa merely lifted her shoulder in response, her anxiety only increasing. Luca nudged her empathetically, he knew what it was like to prefer privacy.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang with us-”

“There you are you little puttana!” A furious voice interrupted the group, and Luisa turned pale when she heard the screech.

The group of soaked and smelly teens had returned, their expressions were mutinous. The girl with shoulder-length blonde hair whipped her hand out, pushing Luca aside in the process, and snatched Luisa by the arm. Her soaked touch instantly turned Luca’s arm blue with scales, much to his chagrin.

“I’m going to make you pay for your little magic show stunt, witch.” Luisa bared her teeth, which suddenly appeared to be sharper. Before Luca could step in, Dante was already using his large stature to separate the two girls from one another.

“Calmati, Aurora. I’d hate to see this get ugly.” Dante stared down the furious teen, who scowled in return.

“Stay out of this, Castello,” One of the older boys spoke. He isn’t quite as big as Dante, but he stood at least a foot taller. “This little urchin needs to be taught a lesson.” He leaned over imposingly. Dante rolled his eyes and merely scoffed.

“If a puny freshman can cause that much damage to a bunch of upperclassmen, I think it’s you five who need a lesson. Get on your way before I tell my mother about this, I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss this and your future program applications in her office.” He raised an eyebrow at the unsettled group, his stance unmoving. They were saved by a response when the bell rang, signaling the start of classes. Auror stomped her foot angrily before pointing a finger at Dante.

“You keep that witch away from us. If I catch her alone, it’s over.” She sliced a finger across her neck menacingly before being pulled away by her shorter friend. When they finally disappeared for good, the group heaved a collective sigh of relief.

“I wonder if she’s related to Ercole. I had no idea there’d be two empires of evil to destroy.” Giulia mused.

“What is it with girls being so dramatic,” Dante asked, looking rather bewildered. Giulia slapped his arm indignantly with a shout of “hey!”.

“That just proves my point!”

Ignoring the bickering behind him, Luca turned back to Luisa, intent on checking she was okay, only to find her staring blankly at his arm. To his horror, his arm was still damp, and his scales glistened under the damp white fabric of his arm.

“I-it’s just a birthmark!” He squeaked, instantly wishing he could slap himself. What kind of sane person would believe that?! “You’re just like me,” Luisa whispered, her golden eyes turned hopeful.

“What?” Luisa pushed her own arm towards him, pink scales formed perfectly beneath a handprint.

“Mostro marino,” Luisa breathed.

“Ah, merda, here we go again.” Dante groaned.

[fairyoftbz]

[06:20]

🎄 Day 11 of the Christmas project🎄

“I’m off to work, honey,” Sunwoo whispered as it was still quite early in the morning. You groaned in your sleep but turned around to lazily wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s neck to drag him closer. “You’re going already?” you tiredly mumbled as he softly giggled, lovingly kissing you on the cheek. ”Sadly I am, but I promise to come home earlier than last night,” he said, his low morning voice still laced with sleep although he woke up an hour ago. “Okay, love you,” you said as you let go of your boyfriend, who gently tamed down your bed hair before pecking your forehead. “I love you too, darling,” he said as he walked out of your shared bedroom, smiling to himself as he heard you turn around and go back to sleep.

Boy, he wished to have you in his arms right now, but work was calling him. He could barely keep his eyes open as the elevator went down, the ‘ding’ of the machine forcing him to wake up and start with his day. You allowed yourself to sleep past your alarm since your body needed some rest after the intense week you’ve just had. You took the morning off until 2 pm because today was a special day; your mission was to pick up Sunwoo’s Christmas present. He has no idea what you were getting him for Christmas, probably expecting some video games or a new bottle of his favourite perfume, but he was so wrong. On the rare occasions where you could spend your evening together, Sunwoo would rest his head on your stomach while scrolling through TikTok, his discovery page filled with cute videos, especially puppies. The number of videos of animals playing around or being cute was unimaginable. Between messages asking him at what time he was coming home and that you missed or loved him, your conversation was him feeding you with puppy content, so this planted an idea in your head. You’d get him one. That sounded like a great idea, plus I’d make you both become more responsible by taking care of an animal, as well as some company when lonely nights hit a little too close to home. Boxer was a dog breed that was quite redundant in the videos that your boyfriend always sent you. You had to admit that they were adorable, and it was getting harder for you not to want this kind of dog.

So before overthinking and reconsidering your decision, you get dressed up and walk out the door, swirling your car keys in hand before unlocking it by a swift click. Rubbing your hands together before setting them on the steering wheel, you let out a happy squeal and started the engine, excitedly driving to your destination. A few weeks ago, on a morning where your tired boyfriend got a day off and was soundly sleeping next to you, you were scrolling on the Internet to check the shelters in the neighbourhood. They all had cute animals, and you would adopt all of them if you could, but still no sign of a puppy that caught your eyes. After calling dozens and dozens of pet shelters, you finally found your sacred place. It was two hours away from where you lived, but you finally found a stray boxer who had given birth to three beautiful puppies. Refusing to buy an animal from a pet store, your task of finding the breed you were looking for was quite hard but ended up being successful.

“Oh hello!” the shelter owner greeted you as you pulled up to the place, locking your car before heading inside with the lady leading the way. “Your little boy is here,” she said as she gestured to a cage, hearing some claws, and yapping on the other side of the fence. You had come there a few days prior, so the little man must have recognised you, excitingly wriggling his small tail as you appeared in sight. “Hi! Hi baby, do you recognise me? What a good boy,” you said in your sweetest voice, the puppy stretching its small body to try and lick your face. You giggled as you avoided his scratchy tongue, gently petting him on the head as you tried to calm him down. Holding him in such a cute way that his little feet dangle in the air, you walked with the owner near the checkout to do some administrative work.

After a few more minutes of chatting with the woman in front of you and walking around the store to make your puppy say goodbye to his friends, you were out of the shelter, unlocking your car as it was trying to eat your dangling earring. “Oh my god, stop!” you laughed as you gently pulled the metal out of your puppy’s mouth, placing him in the little basket you had prepared for him before heading out of your house. He whined as you closed the door, carefully watching you walk around the car to sit in the passenger seat. The journey back home was a bit chaotic, the pup was trying to explore the world now that he was out of his former home. Controlling him while driving wasn’t the safest thing in the world, but you finally made it back home in one piece, with the Christmas gift for your loved one. 

“Alright buddy let me prepare your little home, okay?” you said as you placed him on the floor, him immediately running around and sniffing everything. You hurriedly went to the cellar to get out everything that you had bought for the dog, setting everything between the couch and the wall for the moment, a quiet, discreet spot so Sunwoo wouldn’t see it when he first enters the room. You spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of the new member of the family, whose name you decided to be Choco. It wasn’t the most original thing in the world, but he was as dark as chocolate, the white areas on its body reinforcing the chocolate-milk look. Excitingly standing up when you heard the front door of your apartment open, keys being tossed on the table next to the entrance. Choco wanted to follow you, but you gestured to him to stay at his spot and hurried to the hall.

“Hi babe,” you greeted your boyfriend with a wide smile, wrapping your arms around him as he just took off his jacket. ”Oh, hi love,” he said in a breath before squeezing you tight against him, laying soft kisses on your temple. You unwillingly pulled away from the warm embrace and took Sunwoo’s hand to stop him from moving as he was about to go and rest on the couch.

“What’s up?” he asked with his eyebrows raised. You clutched his hand as you stood in front of him, caressing his chin with a smile. ”There’s your Christmas present in the living room,” you whispered, and his eyes widened even more, him suddenly letting go of your hand. ”But-“ “I know, Christmas is still in more than a week, but it was the only moment I could pick it up to have it on time,” you said, Sunwoo turning around to stare in the direction of the living room. Your little Choco started getting quite impatient of being ignored, so he yapped, the small sound making your boyfriend gasp as he looked at you, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ in excitement.

“No, Y/N. No, you didn’t,” he said, voice filled with hope as you followed him, pacing down the corridor. “Love,” he said in a breath, standing in the doorway, his face showing all the surprise and affection he could have in his body. ”Merry Christmas,” you said with a smile, and his eyes followed the small puppy, who was curiously walking towards the two of you. “Meet Choco,” Sunwoo cooed as he bent over to pick it up, the small creature starting to excitedly smell and lick your boyfriend, the action making your lover laugh. ”Y/N, you’re the best,” Sunwoo muttered as he petted the dog’s head, sneaking his free arm around your waist to draw you closer to him. You snuggled up against his chest, and he pecked the crown of your head, his hand lovingly rubbing your shoulder.

Feeling something wet landing on your hand, you quickly looked down and saw the dog wanting attention as Sunwoo stopped petting it. You gently rubbed its short fur on the head and looked up, only to find your boyfriend smirking at you. “I feel like this little dude is going to steal all the attention from my lovely partner,” giggling at your boyfriend’s words, you took the puppy and placed it down on the couch before walking back to him. You stood on your tiptoes and cupped his cheeks, fervently pressing your lips against his in a long, lingering kiss. Out of instinct, the man wrapped his arms around your waist and deepening the kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. The puppy repeatedly yapped as it was finding the kiss too long, making you both chuckle before pulling away, your boyfriend nestling his head in the crook of your neck.

You internally applauded yourself for choosing such a cute gift for your boyfriend as the evening rolled by. You had just finished eating dinner that you had cooked together, despite Sunwoo being exhausted from his schedule. Resting now on the couch watching TV, the puppy was whining from the leg of the sofa, wanting to be in between the two of you. Your boyfriend was laying on the side with his hand supporting his head, while your hand was lingering in his neck, sometimes caressing the warm skin. Sunwoo took one of the toys that were resting on the coffee table and wriggled it in front of Choco’s face, who barked while stretching its little boy, trying to get it. The little pointy teeth started showing, the puppy desperately trying to reach his source of amusement. You giggled as the puppy whined, only to have your boyfriend picking it up from the floor to place it on your laps. After sniffling your legs to check that it was a safe place, Choco laid down, not caring about the toy anymore as it rested its head on your forearm, eyes closing.

Sunwoo pouted as it preferred your warm legs rather than playing with him, only to have him scooting closer and rest his head against your stomach. You replaced the puppy a bit further on your laps to make space for your boyfriend, hand gently carding through his soft locks as he hummed.

“I can’t wait to raise this puppy with him,” you thought as you brought your attention back to the television, noticing only minutes later that the two boys resting on your body were now dead asleep, one of them snoring, stifling a laugh when you couldn’t tell who it was coming from.

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

Back and Forth - Sadithur Week Prompt

@dearauntcathy

Arthur was stalking around camp, wearing the dreaded skunk hat. As much as Sadie loved him, she hated that his fashion sense ranged from being the finest-looking gentleman in Saint Denis to...whatever the hell this was. So, when they happened to pass each other by, she quickly shot a hand out and yoinked the hat off his head. "HEY!" he yelled, his hands flying to his head as he whipped around to face Sadie; she tossed the hat some ways away. Copper, who had been following Arthur, barked and ran after it, thinking that the woman who had become his second human wanted to play fetch.  "What was that for?!"

"Arthur.  I've told you not to wear that hat," she sighed wearily, folding her arms and putting her weight on one leg.

"And I've told you that I like it," he responded, reaching down and taking the hat which Copper held in his mouth, sitting down and tail wagging wildly.  "Thank you Cop."  He fixed it back onto his head.  But Copper started whining at this; he wanted to play more.  Sadie immediately took the hat off and threw it again.  Copper yapped excitedly and ran after it, elated, in contrast to his first human looking at Sadie in stunned incredulity.  Oh she laughed at his face.  When Copper returned, his paws pattering quickly, Arthur tried to take his hat, but Sadie was too quick for him; she tossed the hat away again. This time, Arthur ran with Copper, trying to reach his hat before the animal did.  Sadie had to clamp her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter, her body shaking as a result of the sound having nowhere to go.  But of course, the dog reached the hat first, and immediately dashed back to Sadie with it.  "No!"  Arthur cried out, dirt flying up a little when he skidded to a halt and turned back around.  Upon receiving the hat, Sadie smartly threw it in the opposite direction.

However, Arthur did not run after it this time.  While Copper shot past Sadie, Arthur stopped when he reached her.  He just trapped her in a bear hug, ensuring that she could not move.  Her face being pressed into his torso meant that he obstructed her view too.  "Hey..."  she vocalised, muffled, "that's not fair."

"You're the one who just started throwing my hat," he argued gently, holding her snugly and lovingly.  Sadie could not complain; he gave the best hugs.  This time when Copper returned, it was Arthur who finally retrieved his hat, having fastened one arm around Sadie first.  "I'm gonna let go of you now.  Don't throw it anymore, okay?"

"I won't Arthur."

He trusted her, and let go of her, slowly stepping back, keeping his hands on her arms while the hat remained secured in between two fingers.  She gently took the hat, and held it over his head, about to place it down.  But he took the hat away, just holding it, and shook his head.  "I won't wear it if you hate it that much."

She smiled and dropped her hands to his shoulders, her palms still while her fingers caressed them.  "Thank you."

He smiled back at her, putting his hands on her elbows and bumping his nose against hers; they were not comfortable with kissing in public.  "I'm gonna go put this in my tent," he murmured.

"Sure you don't wanna keep Copper occupied?"  she jested.

"Oh, he will be all right."  He leant back from her and walked away at last.  Sadie smiled as she watched him go for a few moments, then got back to her own work.

[bitchiha]

Can you please make HCS for sasuke, madara and hashirama (naruto too but I want to bother yo😢) and how they'll deal with their pregnant s/o? When the bump start to grow and their mood swings, weird food combinations and pregnancy struggles in general? Also when their s/o becomes 10 times more affectionate with them and is just soft and clingy. Thank you!💞💖💗

A/N: thanks for the request! I know I was a little slow getting to it but man I’m so swamped with life rn lol 😔 uhh also I swapped Madara out bc I felt like I didn’t make it accurate enough and so I physically couldn’t bring myself to post w his headcanons so I subbed naruto in

✎ Pregnant s/o!! (Sasuke, Hashirama, Naruto)

Sasuke Uchiha

!!I’ve done some headcanons for Sasuke + a preg s/o over here before, so His will be a bit shorter!!

He’s surprised when the baby bump actually starts showing because he didn’t actually believe he was going to have kid. So it really starts to settle in at that point.

Will make sure to be extra cautious around you to make sure nothing bad will happen to you or the baby. He’s in full force protective mode, of course he’ll play it cool but know that he’s got your back.

He’s used to his own mood swings, but when you start getting them he’s like?? What do I do? He’ll be tolerant asf though like you can call him every name in the book and then hug him five seconds later and he’ll just be there like: it’s apart of the process I guess. He can really keep his cool through a shocking amount of insults.

When he starts seeing you eating the weirdest food combinations he is confused, but he won’t say anything because he’s already experienced your mood swings and is not about to trigger them again by saying anything. If you offer him some he’ll just say no and back out of the kitchen, he doesn’t really need to get a snack.

Oh boy the clinginess. When it starts to happen he’s a bit shocked, but he assumes it’s apart of the process. (He assumes everything’s apart of the pregnancy process tbh.) I know he lowkey likes it, I know deep down he digs that clingy shit. Of course he won’t outwardly admit that, but the fact that he isn’t putting up a fight at you smothering his face is a good enough sign.

He will probably very sneakily get a book from the library about pregnancy instead of asking someone about it. Over his dead body would he ask someone like Hinata or Sakura about this stuff. So he consults a book, it was difficult bc some of the stuff he was shook to read about, but he managed to finish it.

Once the book’s finished he feels like he’s prepared for any pregnancy struggles you may have. Still somehow manages to internally flip his shit when something happens. He’ll try his best to help though.

Hashirama Senju

He’s so excited when he finds out that you’re gonna have a child together. Like a child of your own that you’ll both raise to be an amazing shinobi. Ugh he’ll be daydreaming about his kid until you actually have the child, then he’s in shambles, but that’s another story.

Will flex the fact that he is gonna have a child to anyone and anything in his path, which is kinda not a good idea. He also tightens security for the house just incase. He will be so protective bc he’s the Hokage and that makes you and the baby more vulnerable to possible attacks.

Probably yaps Madara and Tobiramas ear off because of how much he’ll talk about you and the baby. Like every five seconds he’s like “I’m having a kid lol” and tobiramas just like shut the fuck up (he’s happy for him tho.)

When he first sees the little baby bump he’s so fucking hyped. Like he’ll probably come up to you randomly just to place his hands on it. He’s like “that’s my kid in there wow.” Honestly he’s just so excited like that man is a ball of happiness.

He’s gonna be kinda shook about some of the pregnancy struggles. Like when you start getting mood swings he’s like so confused at first. He just figures it’s cause of the baby and so he’ll try and hug it out. You could have just called him a bunch of names and he’s just gonna be like “shut up let’s just hug it out.”

That usually does the trick and when it doesn’t, he’ll sneak out and let you fume for a bit before he comes back and tries again.

Enjoys the clinginess 100%. Like he loves it. Its a nice change from the bad part of the mood swings. While you’re cuddling he’ll play with your hair and have a hand resting on your belly. Then you’ll both talk about what you want to name the baby if it’s a boy or a girl, what you think they’ll be like, if they’ll have his eyes or you hair. (He prays they have his hair bc let’s be real it’s lucious asf.)

Like idk I feel like I need to emphasize the fact that he really does love the soft clingy side you’ll get. If he’s working a lot he will sometimes bring you to work with him, will let you lay on a couch in his office while he does his work.

He will have to refrain so hard from laughing at the weird cravings you’re having. Like if he walks into the kitchen and sees you eating some next level crazy meal he’s gonna need to back out of the kitchen and calm himself down. Then he’ll walk in and be like “hey honey, whatcha doing?”

Just because you knew he was laughing and what you were eating five seconds ago you’ll force him to eat it with you. Then he’ll be all like “I’m the hokage! I can’t get sick! Not like this, anyways.” Then he sees your face and he’s like: shit. So he ends up eating with you. Will pretend it’s good but he’s dying on the inside.

When you’re too tired to get out of bed some days he’ll definitely try his best to make you feel comfortable. Will use an earth style jutsu to put flowers around the room to entertain you while you’re in bed. He will also make your weird pregnancy craving meals for you while you’re in bed. And yes, he will laugh to himself the whole time while he makes it.

The closer to the pregnancy he gets the more he daydreams about your kid. He’ll get so excited and will think about all the things he’s gonna teach them.

Naruto Uzumaki

I feel like him and Hashirama would have similar reactions to a lot of things. Like when he first finds out about your pregnancy he is so hyped and will tell literally anyone. Thinks about his future kid all the time. Will probably suggest to name the kid after some type of ramen.

He’s the most immature about dealing with pregnancy stuff. Like I know I wanna give him the benefit of the doubt but.. let’s be real here he’s freaking out the whole time. That’s not to say he isn’t gonna try and be helpful though, like he will genuinely try his best to help. It just won’t end up the way he wanted it too.

Will ask Sakura about what the heck he’s supposed to do, she’ll probably be super helpful and will try and give you some weird special food pills to help you keep energized. Naruto will burn them when she leaves bc he knows those food pills are so gross, it’s the thought that counts I guess.

He also takes videos and pictures 24/7. He wants to make sure he documents everything. “Look, future baby! Your mom is having another pregnancy mood swing- ach! Did’ya see that? Your mom just tossed a shoe at me!”

When the baby bump starts forming he pokes it. Not harmfully, just like.. he wants to make sure it’s real. Like he’s actually having a kid, Crazy! Anyway, so after he pokes it to make sure it’s not fake, he’ll document the moment. “Hey future baby! Look, this is you. Inside there.” (Cue a vv gentle stomach poke)

The mood swings can entertain him sometimes and other times they can annoy the crap out of him. Like you’re crying one second and the next you’re yelling about the one time he forgot to pick you up for a date like three years ago. He’s really crappy at handling anything that have to do with mood swings. He’ll either be a doof about it or he’ll get offended. Then Sakura has to knock some sense into him.

He means well though, he’s still getting used to everything.

Don’t even get me started on how he reacts to the weird food cravings. Like sometimes he’ll lovingly tease the crap out of you for the weird things you’re eating or he’ll be excited and join in. Like you’re putting a scoop of peanut butter in your ramen? He’s grabbing the chopsticks! Will probably be sick afterwards.

The times when you are clingy are the best, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing so you two can just hang out. If that means you just want to lay in bed and sleep, then he’ll do it! Or if that means you wanna go on a walk, then he’ll do it!

Likes to spend as much time with you as possible. Just wants to make sure you’re okay and if you need him to do anything for you.

Overall 10/10 bc he may be a little bit of a goof, but he always means well <3

[a-lil-perspective]

•Braids and Bavodu’e•

A/N: Directly affiliated with the “Serendipity With A Slice Of Sergeant” series, this spin-off is for Uncle Crosshair. There are three segments spanning within this narrative that each depict different phases of time. To clarify—the order will proceed as such: Middle, Beginning, End. In total adoration for this particular concept with Crosshair, I poured my heart and soul into the curation, and I hope you all find enjoyment within. Feedback, recommendations, and requests are always appreciated. @shadow-hyder @obiorbenkenobi @thegoodbatch @starflyer-104 @karpasia @kriffingunlucky @everyonehasanindividuality

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“I... do not think you’re doing it the right way, Crosshair. It says here in the guide to weave over, then under—”

“Tech, kindly close your yap so I can concentrate.” Crosshair bit out, sighing in frustration over the seemingly impossible task. “I know what I’m doing.”

He had no idea what he was doing.

But when Hunter’s daughters came bounding up to Crosshair with a hairbrush and a plea—how could he refuse?

After all, it was just one braid in a little girl’s hair—how hard can it be?

The six-year-old jittered with excitement. “I can’t wait till it’s done!”

“I can’t either,” Crosshair mumbled through a hair accessory clamped between his teeth as he worked.

A sniper and ex-Super Commando against toddlers and tresses?

No problem.

///

Crosshair’s hands smoothed over the entirety of the girl’s hair; signifying his completion, finally, of this one kriffing braid. His contentment over the results made up for the aching in his wrist. He was no hairdresser, and yet—clenching and uncurling his fingers before cracking his knuckles to alleviate the strain—Crosshair figured he’d better start building up the muscle strength in his hands; a sneaking suspicion that there would be many more braids to come.

His deduction was already confirmed when Tech promptly planted the three-year-old Rowena straight into the sniper’s lap, next.

“You have to do Ro’s hair, too.” Tech needlessly explained.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Crosshair sneered, rolling his eyes and once again favoring the tactic of sardonic responses to conceal his discomfiture for whatever situation he found himself in.

“His name isn’t Captain Obvious, Ba’vodu!” Alarasmé’s high-pitched voice cut through the tension, her lack of knowledge on sarcasm pointedly intervening. “That’s Uncle Tech!”

“You’re right, ‘Lara—but tell Crosshair who your favorite Uncle is, hmm?” He encouraged, a feeling of total confidence and surety in the girl’s pending answer.

“You, Uncle Crosshair.”

Her confirmation managed to simultaneously inflate Crosshair’s ego and deflate Tech’s. The engineer’s mouth lay agape, his downcast expression symbolic of crushed spirits, and the image of Tech’s pout allowed Crosshair to become wholly amused by his vod’ika’s lack of dignity around a six-year-old.

“I... Alara... I thought I was your favorite Ba’vodu?” The engineer was utterly baffled, devastation evident in his voice.

“That was only yesterday, Techie.” The girl stated with complete disregard for her Uncle’s feelings, as if her admission towards a shift in predilection was the most justifiable thing, and a predictable reoccurrence, at that.

Apparently, it was.

“But... but Crosshair has practically had a running streak for three weeks now!” Tech whined, to which the sniper simply cast him the most smug expression the engineer has ever seen.

Had there not been small children around, Tech swore to himself that he would’ve punched that stupid smirk right off his ori’vod’s face, he was that indignant over the ranking.

So he attempted to compensate for his trauma and descending favor by kneeling in front of the three-year-old with her locks currently tended to as he worked on coercing his desired validation out of the toddler.

“Rowena, Tech is your favorite Uncle, correct?”

The toddler giggled and reached her tiny fingers out to yank at Tech’s goggles, pulling them away from his face before abruptly letting go; the resistance from the band around the back of his head causing the corrective eyewear to suddenly retract with a thwack against his skin. The sound of Tech’s yelp of pain nearly overpowered Crosshair’s cackling.

“You di’kut, you had that one coming, tryna reason with a baby,” the sniper managed to choke out through his wheezing, to which Tech scowled, soothing over both the fresh sting around his delicate eye area and his further injured pride.

“As a matter of fact, I think the response was a good sign. According to research, babies and small children naturally present with more attentiveness and personality to people they favor—“

“Awe don’t worry, Techie,” the sniper brushed his vod’ika aside with a goading stroke of snark. “It’s not your fault—not everyone can be as well accomplished as this Ba’vodu.”

It was true—while Crosshair was slightly begrudged to admit—his deft and nimble fingers that procured precision in every aspect of his work were, unsurprisingly, the most ideal candidate for constructing intricate hairstyles.

Not that he was complaining one bit.

///

“Papa! Look at my hair!!” The little girl gave a proud twirl in flaunting the new style to her Father upon his return with Uncle Wrecker.

Hunter’s eyes widened, signaling his eased integration of whimsicality and theatrics into his daughter’s exuberance. He was a natural; proof of his intrinsically befitting role of Fatherhood on display time over again.

“Alarasmé?! Is that you?! I barely even recognized you, you’re even more beautiful then I remember!” He knelt to be eye-level with his daughter in emphasizing his payments of the highest respect and reverence for her beauty; his surprise remaining authentic, and his compliment even more so.

Truthfully, he was thoroughly surprised at beholding his two daughters that day... with their hair beautifully styled... by... Crosshair?

Hunter’s brows furrowed while curiously regarding his vod, whose own attentive gaze was fully occupied with giving purpose to the last thin strands of hair on the youngest girl. If Crosshair felt Hunter’s intense gaze of perplexity boring into him over his unprecedented behavior, he had yet to acknowledge it.

He did feel it, and was pointedly ignoring.

“All done, Ro.” Crosshair announced upon promptly attaching the finishing touch to Rowena’s head before she bolted out of the chair in racing her chubby toddler legs over to Hunter, who matched her eagerness as he lovingly scooped up his ik’aad to also exalt her beauty and express his adoration for the girl’s new accessory—

So that’s where his red bandana went.

“Papa! Your turn!” The girls pulled a now flustered Sergeant over to Crosshair, who suddenly flashed Hunter the most devilish grin before patting the stool in front of him in an overly welcoming gesture; each word dripping with deliberate emphasis.

“Yes, Papa Hunter—have a seat.”

“Uh, I don’t think so—“

“I insist.”

The intense begging of his daughters mixed with the thinly-veiled intimidation tactics of Crosshair left Hunter with little choice than to flop unceremoniously down into the chair, but not before turning to greet his vod with a glare and feigned warning:

“You’ll regret this.”

“Oh, I think not, Sergeant—I am going to enjoy the absolute kriff out of this.” Crosshair smirked, playfully smacking the back of his ori’vod’s head. “Now be still and enjoy your braid. Remember to smile for Tech’s recording.”

/// *** \\\

“Do you want to hold her, vod?”

There it is. The dreaded question Crosshair knew was coming.

The nauseating one that caused his head to spin and a sheen of sweat to break out across his forehead; a question that triggered Crosshair’s urge to promptly flee the scene.

Not that the idea itself dreaded him—but who was he kidding; his hands were used to cradling rifles, not babies.

Certainly not infant newborns.

“You’re not gonna break her, vod. Don’t worry. She’s tougher than she looks.” Hunter replies with reverence for his firstborn and innate realization for the way Cross was so conflicted; as if the sniper’s contorted and downright terrified facial expression wasn’t overt enough.

Crosshair’s hands unconsciously drifted defensively in front of him, and he noted the way they were slightly trembling.

Of course Hunter noticed, too—he deliberately approached Crosshair last with news of the baby’s arrival, equipped with full comprehension for the way his vod would instinctively portray a great deal of resistance to the encounter, originating from his suffocating trepidations. Inwardly, Hunter couldn’t place fault; the prospect, his new reality, was also just as utterly foreign to a man groomed for the role of a Sergeant and super soldier all of his life. He was actually a Father now.

Crosshair’s stammering became the only audibility as he desperately searched for the right words. “I... I don’t... How do I—”

“Just position your arms, exactly like mine here,” Hunter gently instructed, stifling his slight hilarity in regarding Crosshair’s plight and uncharacteristically timid behavior. He slowly transferred the bundle, leaving a last piece of advice on how to support the baby’s head with the act of cradling.

There she is. The moment Crosshair’s fret over, the focal point of his immense stress for nine months straight; all condensed into this one moment:

A moment that forcefully yanked the air from the sniper’s lungs. Fear. Joy. Exhilaration. Assurance. Swirling emotions enveloping and succumbing to solidification; leaving his vision in cloudy haze, nearly bringing the man to his knees. The moment he swore his heart would beat out of his chest from the hammering against his ribcage and the pure adrenaline rushing through his veins.

A moment of—

“How does it feel, Ba’vodu?” Hunter’s genuine smile and elation reeled Crosshair back, momentarily.

“I...” Crosshair faltered, not trusting himself to speak. Not yet.

Don’t stare. Stay calm. Act normal. Breathe—

He swallowed hard, lowering his octave to just above a whisper and opting for the incitement of a casual inquiry as he desperately tried to compensate for the weight, or lack thereof, in his arms.

She was... way lighter than a rifle...

“What did you name her?”

“Alarasmé.”

The hard eye rolling of Crosshair briefly allowed the sniper’s usual derisive quips to surface in that instant. What a name.

“That’s too big for a baby, you di’kut.” Both men chuckled at the ribbing.

“She’ll grow into it. Besides—we figured there could be lots of nicknames to come from it: ‘Alara’, ‘Lara’, ‘Lar’—”

“That’s... better. Pretty.”

“Glad you think so, vod. You know your opinion is the only one I care about.”

Crosshair’s wry smile spread across his features, mirroring his ori’vod’s. He appreciated the former Sergeant favoring the antidote of humor to ease them both into the new transition, despite Hunter currently looking a little worse for wear.

His thoughts flickered to a more pressing question, the one that plagued his thoughts the moment medical droids ushered her back.

“And... Y/N? Is she—?”

“She’s doing great, vod,” Hunter’s smile projected reassurance.

Crosshair exhaled in relief, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d held captive. “That’s good... figured as much, otherwise you wouldn’t even be coherent. Surprised you didn’t pass out right on the spot.”

“Me too.” Hunter’s deep laugh echoed against the stark white walls of the hospital. “But I did have to send Wrecker outside until he could stop howling from sheer excitement. And I sent Tech in there to keep an eye on her while she rests.”

“Resting and Tech do not go together, Hunter. I think baby fever is stunting your sound judgement here.”

“Cross—relax, would you? Tech’s not gonna bother anything. Everything is fine, I promise: Y/N is OK.” Hunter inhaled patience and breathed out compassion before gently continuing, a sense of fond remembrance coloring his features.

“You should’ve seen her, vod; she was SO happy. Could barely pry that little one from her arms.” The former Sergeant carefully eyed Crosshair in accentuation over his next statement. “But she wanted you to see the baby. Was askin’ about you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Crosshair felt a contemplative frown tug the corner of his lips as his brows furrowed in intense deciphering of Hunter’s admission.

Y/N... was asking... about him? Wanted to make sure he was okay? Even though she was the one giving birth.

Hunter should count his lucky stars. Maker, that woman was so kriffing compassionate and thoughtful, her altruism a real rarity.

If someone were to ask; this was but one of many reasons why Crosshair loved you so damn much.

He could hardly breathe at the pang of guilt now coursing through him—talk about a real shabuir. He could’ve made himself available for support instead of trekking around the hospital to wallow in his reservations and anxiety.

Crosshair felt he did a major disservice to the people whom he deeply cared for, who relied on him—and he fervently sought to make amends.

Maybe he could start today...

The sniper’s eyes finally drifted to the bundle in his arms and settled on the baby now slightly squirming as she cooed and suddenly blessed Crosshair with the image of two pools of dazzling brown eyes reflecting; soft and warm and curiously regarding the company of a temporary acquaintance cradling her. Her face was tender; concave features and tiny lips immediately curving into a half smile.

Crosshair couldn’t breathe.

He nearly clutched his chest, seeking to address the now smoking hole in the center courtesy of a newborn, his niece, and her well placed shot point-blank through his heart.

Impressive by even an expert sniper’s standards.

It was as if suddenly, instead of blood seeping from his exposed heart, it was pure ardor forcefully expelling and completely washing away disquietude to project a vulnerability so lovingly welcomed and an intimacy so deeply cherished in that instant; an indescribable moment Crosshair wished he could capture the essence of forever.

A moment Crosshair fell in love.

With stars in his eyes and total adoration for this beautiful human created from an unrepentant devotion, the sniper quickly decided with an unwavering resolve that love was the most powerful thing in the entire galaxy—a raw purity that suddenly reached out to evoke healing and restitution through solely the grasp of her tiny fingers.

And it was with slight amusement and full reverence that Crosshair acknowledged how only a child of Y/N could have such an effect of him.

Hunter felt as he was was intruding on a private moment with the way Crosshair’s entire mood and expression finally shifted; hardened layers peeling back to reveal a raw core of delicate emotions—a demeanor in his vod that Hunter had not witnessed the materialization of in a very long time.

A tiny droplet on the baby’s blanket became the only indication to Crosshair of his emotions now manifested through his glistening eyes.

Worry and anxiety became evident on Hunter’s face as he carefully watched the silent tears now roll down his vod’s cheek and patter against the cloth swaddling his newborn daughter.

He’s crying... Crosshair doesn’t cry... Is he just utterly overwhelmed? Overjoyed? Scared?

Hunter reached out tentatively, unsure of what to do, at a loss for what to say.

Tell me what you need, kih’vod...

“Crosshair? Do you... want me to take her back now—?”

“Hunter,” the sniper choked out, unabashed in his unequivocal bliss. “She is perfect.”

Absolutely perfect.

—Such were the emotions of love and doting magnified upon the addition of another beautiful daughter; proof of Crosshair’s inflated eagerness at Rowena’s arrival evident through the scenario of Wrecker’s form nearly put to the ground as Crosshair practically shoved his way to get to the new baby girl first.

/// *** \\\

“—And he’s just SO nice, great listener, super cute, too—“

“I don’t like him.”

The now thirteen-year-old whipped her head around to regard her Ba’vodu, who nearly lost his grip on the girl’s ebony locks currently under revision of a new hairstyle.

“Uncle Crosshair, you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to. If any boy likes my niece, I don’t like him. It’s very simple, love.” Crosshair solidified his terse judgment with a twirl of his finger in signaling Alarasmé to revert to her original position, allowing him resumed access to the back of her head.

The eldest daughter of Hunter grumbled and crossed her arms, complying with Crosshair’s instruction. “You never like any of mine and Rowena’s friends. That’s hardly fair.”

“I don’t play fair, sweetheart. You should know that by now.”

‘Lara simply ignored her stubborn uncle in continuing with her story. “Anyway, so he approached me after a class, and guess what??”

The girl’s enthusiasm was utterly endearing, and her theatrics intrinsically drew a smile out of Crosshair. He decided to humor her.

“What, beautiful Alarasmé?? Enlighten your uncle Crosshair.”

Her barely contained excitement suddenly effervesced in the form of an absolutely delighted squeal that echoed the entirety of space and left a ringing in Crosshair’s ears.

“HE GAVE ME HIS HOLO FREQUENCY!!”

Crosshair was immensely glad Alara’s back poised to him possessed the inability to behold the deep scowl etched into her Uncle’s face in that moment.

But she was practically glowing with elation, and Crosshair wasn’t about to rob her of a childhood exuberance that was so authentically pure and wholesome.

But he couldn’t help himself—you’d think they were the sniper’s own offspring, what with the way he was utterly enamored and obsessively overprotective of his ori’vod’s daughters. Kriff. They were his literal undoing.

Crosshair suddenly emerged to behold two large pools of beautiful brown studying his face, searching for a reaction, silently pleading for his approval.

He swallowed his skepticism and disdain for some stranger, little more than a kid, contending for his niece’s beautiful heart; forcing his most genuine smile in response.

“That’s... really great, ‘Lara. I’m happy for you. Let me know if you want me to kill him.”

“Thanks Ba’vodu—hey, I can kill him myself, thank you very much—“

“Good girl, verd’ika. That’s what I like to hear.” Her assertation became Crosshair’s favorite part of the news; a sense of pride and borderline sadistic satisfaction culminating from her bold reassurance. He made no qualms of obscuring his pleased smirk from the teenager when her own suddenly reflected back at him.

“Awe. Do you feel better now, Ba’vodu?” Her animated expressions thoroughly amused Crosshair, reminding him once again of just how much the young girl favored her father’s personality the older she aged; his physical resemblance even more so.

Crosshair couldn’t get enough of it.

“As a matter of fact, cyar’ika—I do feel much better in knowing the four ex-Super Commandos in your life have done you justice by instilling in you the shameless instruction of kicking someone’s ass whenever needed. Yes.” He allowed a hand to deviate from her hair in playfully stroking her cheek before withdrawing; a sudden realization flickering. “You haven’t actually told your Papa yet, have you? You might want to—”

“No!” ‘Lara’s cry startled Crosshair. “Please don’t tell him—he is the worst and weirdest about this stuff, and Rowena already gives me a hard enough time, as it is!”

So you came to the most critiquing Uncle you have? He bit his tongue to keep from spitting out, recognizing the way that wouldn’t allay her distress.

Deep down, he also knew why both of his former Sergeant’s daughters spent so much of their time consumed with Crosshair—he was a good listener, typically calm and level-headed; not overly rumbustious, prying, or a downright troublemaker like the other men. While the sniper’s abrasive nature remained a steady inherence, his many unique forms of gentle conveyances resonated profoundly with the girls. Without fail, both females came to Crosshair for the deep conversations, always intrigued by their enigmatic Ba’vodu’s wisdom presented through his scope of very unfiltered perspectives. Sniper rifles, late night sweets, and new hairstyles were the focal point of their relationship.

Crosshair would allow himself some leniency—he was a pretty good Uncle.

Though he shifted full credit to their beautiful mother, who initially cultivated Crosshair’s soft refinement so many years ago; her two children further reinforcing that self-growth in the man.

Two children...

It‘s been five years since, but the pain of loss from what would’ve been a third child—a son of Hunter’s that never carried to full term—still heavily bore it’s remnants of poignancy.

It never got any easier to quell the grief.

“Cyar’ika... you have to tell him soon. That stubborn Daddy of yours will find out one way or another.” He chuckled lightly before softening his tone. “You know that.”

A sigh of defeat emitting from the girl tugged at Crosshair’s heart strings as he watched the way her eyes became acquainted with the floor for a long moment; harsh silence uncouth in the act of creating a palpable weight of melancholy to encompass the atmosphere.

An abrupt sound cut deep through disconcertment with the sudden clearing of Crosshair’s throat, an act that signified a redirected topic of conversing between the awkward Uncle and crestfallen teenager.

“Your hair is getting long, Alara.”

That seemed to do the trick, and Crosshair was satiated with the way her brown eyes lit up slightly and expression eased into a relaxed state as the beautiful smile that Crosshair found himself missing made it’s way to her lips once again.

“I know, Papa told me the same thing just this morning.” She stifled a laugh before continuing. “Said he was gonna grow his out even longer so that there would be competition. I told him you were gonna braid it again if he did.”

Crosshair chortled. His ori’vod‘s humor was so outlandish. “And I might just, anyway—what I wouldn’t give to see that again on your old man,” he mused in humored recollection, to which the young girl eagerly obliged in the shared remembrance.

Crosshair no more than withdrew his hands from the stylized hair before Alara’s own fingers instantly flew to splay atop her head in appraisal of the intricately woven locks. Both of Hunter’s daughters were modest in their hairdressing skills, but it was a unanimous agreement between them and their Uncle at an earlier stage that they preferred it this way—‘long chats and endearing head pats’—as the girls liked to call it.

Crosshair leaned back in the chair, analyzing his work in the form of a braided crown adorning the circumference of the girl’s head and spanning from temple-to-temple, before he allowed his own satisfaction to display.

The teenager flashed Crosshair a dazzling smile before her praise followed suit. “Nice work Uncle Cross; you’ve done it again.”

“I aim to please, cyar’ika.”

Crosshair eyed his niece for a long moment as a sense of urgency and obligation began to permeate his stance. Visible confusion danced across Alara’s features as Crosshair’s solemn gaze and hands now resting determinedly on her shoulders instantly perked her attentiveness.

“Alarasmé, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.” The resolution in her voice faltered briefly as her head cocked to the side in nonchalant contemplation. “Unless it’s to finally beat Uncle Wrecker in arm wrestling—that’s definitely not gonna happen.” She giggled, and Crosshair quickly matched her humor before continuing in earnest.

“Promise me that you won’t ever let some boy or anyone break your heart. You and Ro are tough, like your momma. But that doesn’t mean you won’t always have four ex-Super Commandos on your side. So also promise me that you’ll never forget how much your family loves you.”

The girl remained silent for a moment in the absorption and intense processing of her Uncle’s heavy requests.

“That’s a lot of promises.”

“Promise me, cyare.”

“OK Ba’vodu—I promise.” She reaches up to swipe at the man’s cheek. “No need to go all soft, ram’ser.”

Ram’ser. Y/N’s favorite term for him.

“Hey, just like I have Papa’s heart, Uncle Wrecker’s, and Uncle Tech’s—” she tenderly continued, splaying a hand across Crosshair’s chest, “—I have yours, too. So mine can’t break when there’s already plenty of hearts to keep it company. Don’t worry.” She pulled the man into a tight hug before retracting and playfully prodding his shoulder, her eyes quick to sparkle with mischief.

“Now take me to the shooting range—I want to nail a target from ten klicks while sporting this hairdo.”

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 24

A/N: You’ll want to read this one!!! Let me know what you think!

WARNING: SMUT!!! (****** will be at end and beginning so you can skip if you want)

[Click Here For Previous Chapters]

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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR:

The ride to Elizabeth’s parent’s house was fairly awkward for her, although Harry didn’t seem to notice much as he yapped away in the car about how happy he was that her and Anne still got along as well as they used to. He didn’t notice Elizabeth distracted in the passenger seat. Anne’s words of warning kept replaying in her mind. All of his previous relationships ended because of how busy he gets. Elizabeth knew that Anne was just trying to protect Elizabeth from getting hurt, but the fact that this was something Elizabeth was concerned about from the beginning made it slightly more concerning coming from Harry’s mom. All of it was new to her, so she figured that Harry’s world would be even more difficult compared to his model exes who have a better understanding of a busier lifestyle than her. This just meant that Elizabeth had to learn to be more patient, like Anne said.

They were minutes from Elizabeth’s childhood home when Harry pulled into a grocery store parking lot. He asked her to wait in the car for a minute while he ran in to grab something. Elizabeth watched, confused, as he jogged into the store. What could he possibly need? They already ate dinner and it was already 8 PM. When she saw Harry running back out a short time later, she shook her head.

“Suck up,” she teased as he got in, placing a bottle of wine, a bouquet of flowers, and a pack of oreos at her feet. 

He laughed, “Well you hated me after I left, so I can only imagine how your parents feel about me. I need to make sure I make a good impression this time around.”

She rolled her eyes, “My mom has always loved you. My dad...well, he’s just a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but he kinda scares me a bit,” he admitted.

“He’s just protective. He means well.”

Harry commented on how crazy it was that he remembered the way to her house so easily, even after all of this time, and how everything seemed to be smaller than he remembered. He pulled into the driveway and took a deep breath, staring at the door. He did his best to hide it, but it was heartwarming to see how nervous he was. Elizabeth smiled at him until he was finally ready to get out. 

She led the way to the front door, pulling it open and stepping right in without knocking, as her parents were expecting them, and called out their names. Their cat, Binx, scurried across the landing, startled from their entrance as Elizabeth’s parents came running up.

“Oh, my baby!” Elizabeth’s mom, Kim, exclaimed, though her dad was the first to reach her. He pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight and swaying her from side to side for a moment. Kim smacked her husband's back, “Alright, John, give me a turn!” John finally let go of his daughter and smiled lovingly at Elizabeth as Kim gave her an embrace. 

As soon as Kim pulled away, Elizabeth stepped towards Harry and said, “Remember this guy?”

“Of course we do!” Kim gushed, going in for a hug.

John held his hand out for a handshake and said, “How’s it going, rockstar?” grasping firmly.

Harry chuckled, “Great, thank you. I brought these for you both,” he extended the flowers and wine towards Kim.

“Oh my goodness, thank you!” Kim cried, “Why don’t you three head to the living room while I put these flowers in a vase and crack open this nice bottle of wine. Make yourselves comfortable.”

As Kim scurried towards the kitchen, John wrapped an arm around his daughters shoulders, pulling her in close to him and leading them towards the living room, Harry following behind. Harry looked around at the decor, and aside from updated photos that hung on the walls, everything was pretty much the same as it looked before he left.

The three of them took a seat on the couch while Elizabeth leaned in to her father’s side. Growing up, she was always extremely close to her family, especially her dad. She was definitely a daddy’s girl, and John reveled in it. He was wrapped around her finger from the minute she was born. Harry always commented on how nice it was that they were so close. It didn’t take long for Kim to come bouncing back in the room, carrying a small black storage box, and a few empty glasses with the wine bottle, beaming at them.

“What’s that?” Elizabeth sat up straight as her mom took a seat in a chair opposite the coffee table, placing the box down. 

Kim opened the lid and started pulling out discs, “When you told me that you were bringing Harry out, I had dad search for this in the attic. It’s old home videos of when you two were little kids. I figured you might want to see them.”

“I forgot we used to do that!” Elizabeth smiled over at Harry who sat up, excited.

While Kim put the disc in the dvd player, Harry poured everyone a glass of wine. Elizabeth smiled when she saw her 14 year old face pop up on the tv, blushing as all of her friends sang Happy Birthday to her. Matt and Harry could be seen blowing party horns in between lyrics. The next video captured was of her dad behind the camera, videoing through a window to see Harry, Elizabeth, Kate, Lewis, and Jimmy laying in the grass and talking in their bathing suits after having played with water balloons . It looked like Kate and Elizabeth were trying to sunbathe while Jimmy plucked at the grass. Harry was trying to be funny by putting grass on Elizabeth’s back. 

John’s commentary made Elizabeth laugh as he was heard saying things like, “This boy better watch himself,” and “That’s my girl! Get him!” when Elizabeth kicked Harry over, laughing when she realized what he was doing.

Another video was before a school dance. Elizabeth was in a hideous purple dress, hair in half-up curls, pinning a boutonniere on her then-boyfriend, Hendrick. Harry could be seen in the background standing with his girlfriend, Lily, amongst the rest of their friends but he was looking over at Elizabeth with a soft smile on his face. All of their parents were there shouting out different things to their kids and it was total chaos. 

As the four continued to watch, Elizabeth slowly started sinking into Harry’s shoulder, smiling and laughing with each video that was shown. She was grateful for her parents having caught so many memories of her growing up with her friends. Once it started getting into the timeframe where Harry had left, Kim had decided they had watched enough.

John set his empty wine glass on the coffee table and turned to face the young couple, “Guess I should have seen this coming,” he gestured towards the two of them, “Harry was staring at you in nearly all of those old videos. Here, I thought it was just some dumb puppy love you had for Lizzy back then.”

Harry as he laughed and looked between Elizabeth and John. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Elizabeth looked at the clock that read 10:12 PM and sat up, announcing, “Right, well I guess we should head out. It’s a long drive back.”

“Oh, well why don’t you two just stay for the night, then,” Kim suggested, “Your room is still there for you, and you have that pull out mattress for Harry.”

Elizabeth glanced up at Harry to read his face and when he shrugged at her, she nodded, “Alright, sure. I guess, we’ll just head up and get ready for bed? I’m pretty tired.”

The four stood up and Elizabeth kissed her parents goodnight. Harry gave them both a hug and as they ascended the stairs John called after them, “And no funny business, Harry!”

The two of them laughed as Elizabeth pushed her bedroom door open. Harry’s mouth fell, looking around the room. It looked almost exactly the same as he remembered it. Her room was still a pale pink color. Her desk and bookshelves cluttered with old school books and random knick knacks, and behind her daybed was fairylights that draped in a zig-zag motion, pictures clipped along the strands.

“Wow, this brings me back,” he gaped, leaning over her bed to get a better look at the pictures. He saw a ton of familiar pictures of a young Elizabeth with Kate and Celeste, he only saw one picture of him in it with their whole friend group, but where he remembered there being pictures of the two of them together, they were replaced with pictures of her college friends, and even a couple of pictures with her and Kyle, kissing.

Harry groaned, pulling one of the pictures off of the clip and waving it in the air, “Won’t be needing this anymore, will we?”

Elizabeth took it to see what he was talking about and chuckled, blowing air out of his nose, “I guess I should put it in my box.”

“Your box?” Harry questioned, eyebrow raising.

“Yeah!” Elizabeth exclaimed, pulling open her closet door, “My ‘Forget Me’ box. I think you might be in there, actually.”

Harry watched as she pulled a shoe box down from the shelf in her closet and plopped it on her bed. He sat down beside her when she lifted the lid, exposing a stack of pictures, some tacky jewelry, and two small books. He flinched when he saw the corner of one of the pictures and grabbed it to see himself and Elizabeth. In the picture she was smiling as Harry kissed her cheek aggressively, making her cheeks smoosh up. He recognized it as one of the pictures that used to be on the strand of fairy lights above her bed. There was even a notch in the top of the photo where the clip had held onto. 

“Why am I in the ‘Forget Me’ box,” Harry frowned.

Elizabeth looked at him, apologetically, “Well, I was mad at you back then. At least I didn’t throw them out.”

Harry nodded when he grabbed one of the books, “What’s this?”

She laughed, taking it out of his hands and flipping through it, “Oh my god, this is my old journal. There was some juicy stuff in here. I’m pretty sure I mentioned you a few times. Yep! Here’s one!” she chuckled, turning to a page. She read aloud.

‘Dear Diary,

Today Harry and I planned to meet up at the park again after our parents go to sleep. I’m a bit scared that my parents will catch me this time, but Jenny said she’d cover for me. I think Jenny thinks that Harry and I meet up to snog or something. I wouldn’t mind snogging Harry, but he has a girlfriend. I really hate Lily. And Harry says he’s not too keen on her, either. Well why is he with her, then? I swear boys can be real chodes sometimes! That stupid idiot! Honestly, I don’t know why I like him so much. I think his dimples might be cutting circulation off to his brain somehow. God, he’s cute! Last time he came over he said he’d lost his virginity the night before. Kinda pissed me off a bit, I’m not gonna lie. I bet he’s big. I had a dream last night that we had sex. It was so realistic, it was almost impossible to look at him in the eyes today. I can’t wait to lose my virginity. Anyways, wish me luck tonight.

Love, Lizzy <3’

Lizzy laughed as she read and looked over at her boyfriend when she finished and his mouth had fallen to the floor. “Jesus, you were a horny 15 year old,” he smirked. “I didn’t know you wanted me that badly, Lizzy. You should have told me.”

“I didn’t know you liked me! You had a girlfriend!”

“Only because I didn’t think you liked me!” Harry retorted. “You know, I remember that day I came over and told you I had lost my virginity. I never told you what happened, though. I mean, it only lasted for a couple minutes, but I remember I accidentally said your name that night in the middle of sex.”

“What?!” Elizabeth exclaimed, laughing.

Harry chuckled, “Yeah! She got pissed and started yelling at me, but I told her ‘I didn’t say Lizzy, I said Lily! You misheard because your names sound so similar! I was just breathing heavy.’ I don’t think she believed me, but she stopped arguing with me.”

“Is that why she was such a massive bitch to me all the time?” Elizabeth questioned.

“Probably,” Harry nodded, “God, I can’t even tell you how many times we sat on this bed, alone, and I just wanted to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” Elizabeth asked, seductively, pushing the box to the side, “Well come on, Styles. Now’s your chance.”

Harry smirked, crawling over towards Elizabeth. He pulled her legs so that she was scooched closer to him and he slowly brought his hand up to her cheek, kissing her softly on the lips. 

Elizabeth broke free, “What else did you always want to do in my bed?”

Harry looked down into her eyes before his gaze turned down towards her breasts, “A little bit of this,” he said, kissing her neck and hand hovering over her shirt that covered her breast. He ran it down and back up underneath her shirt, squeezing her firm breast that was covered by her favorite blue lacy bra.

“Anything else?” she whispered into his ear.

***************************

Harry sat up, eyes darting all over Elizabeth’s body before something clicked in his head. In a rush of movement, Harry ripped Elizabeth’s shirt off of her, pushing her back on the bed and hovering over top of her, kissing her neck forcefully. She couldn’t help but let out a whimper as he sucked on a particular sweet spot at the base of her neck, dotting kisses down to her stomach. She felt her stomach flutter, aching for more of him. She used his position as an opportunity to pull his shirt off of him and just as quickly as his shirt was off, he was then pulling her pants off of her hips and down her legs. 

She watched with shallow breaths as her core throbbed, craving more. Their eyes met while he kissed her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted his mouth to be. His eyes darted towards the strand of pictures hanging just next to them, causing him to sit up. Harry outstretched his arm towards a picture of her and Kyle smiling and he pulled it off, turned it around, and clipped it back onto the strand so that the picture faced the wall.

“Don’t need him watching this,” Harry smirked, hovering back over Elizabeth, hooking his fingers into her underwear and pulling it down.

That action shouldn’t have aroused Elizabeth as much as it did, but sure enough, Elizabeth felt goosebumps form across her arms and stomach, her core throbbing even harder. Harry’s fingers grazed her lips as he sucked on her stomach, and just as he was about to insert his fingers, Elizabeth’s phone started ringing loudly somewhere on the bed beside them. 

******************************

She sat up,frantically feeling around the comforter for her phone, blood boiling at the interruption. When she finally found it, she flipped the phone around to see the caller ID read ‘Kyle’. Before she could even digest who was calling her, Harry stood up furiously.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He exclaimed, smacking a pillow off of the bed and onto the floor.

Elizabeth sat up tensely, never having seen him so angry before, “Sorry, I’ll just put my phone on silent...”

“It’s like he knew!” Harry cut her off. 

“Babe, come on! Let’s just…”

In the middle of her sentence, her phone dinged, signalling a text message. They both looked down to see Kyle had texted her ‘Please, honey. Why won’t you answer me? I love you.’

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, “Why is he still messaging you? There’s no way he just calls and texts you for two months straight without a response! You should have blocked him by now! Especially now that we’re dating!”

Elizabeth sat up, heat rising to her cheeks, “First of all, I don’t like your insinuation. Yes, he’s called and texted me for two months without a single response. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it!” she opened her text conversations, quickly scrolling through the chat history to prove her point before looking back up into Harry’s face, a flicker of shame could be seen within his rage, “Secondly, I’m a grown ass adult. You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re my boyfriend, not my father, not my boss, we’re a team. I didn’t block him because I didn’t think it was necessary to block him. If you were that upset with the occasional messages, you could have talked to me about it beforehand like an adult. You didn’t have to wait until I was naked in my childhood home, on my childhood bed, with my parent’s only three rooms down, to throw a temper tantrum like an absolute child.”

Harry’s expression softened, feeling slightly embarrassed by his actions. He quickly tried to defend himself, “You have three years of history with this guy! I don’t know if you truly don’t have any more feelings for him. Besides, I’m allowed to be a little jealous! Just like you were jealous when my ex was at my party…”

“Don’t even try to compare our situations,” Elizabeth cut him off, “My ex boyfriend is a cheating loser from no-one-gives-a-fuck-ville. I haven’t responded to a single attempt at him trying to reach me, have I? I didn’t invite him to my house to hang out with my family and new boyfriend, did I? I didn’t hug him or kiss his cheek when we left him at the club, did I? No, I let Matt kick his ass and left with you. Meanwhile, you invite your international model of an ex-girlfriend to a party at your house with a girl that you’re currently sleeping with, are overly friendly with her infront of me, and I barely say a damn thing. I most certainly didn’t lose my shit over it in the middle of foreplay. You’re Harry-fucking-Styles, for christ sake! Why the hell would I cheat on you for someone who cheated on me? Regardless, we just got done confessing our attraction for each other since we were fucking 14 years old. So don’t lecture me about my ‘3 year history’ with this guy when I’ve had 12 years of history with you! It’s always been you, Harry. Don’t you dare try to guilt me for having been in a relationship after you left.”

Elizabeth started to reach for her shirt that had been flung on the ground during their initial heavy-petting, when Harry grabbed her hand. She looked up into his eyes and read his face riddled with guilt and lust. She could tell, whatever she had said excited him. She knew what he was about to do, and she suddenly felt her anger that had been boiling away a minute ago fizzle into burning desire.

*************************************

Harry lunged at her, pinning her back down on the bed and kissing her harder than he had before, leaving trails of soft red marks across her skin down her stomach. Elizabeth’s back arched as his mouth attached to her slit, tongue circling her clit as his stubble massaged her sensitive skin surrounding. She clutched onto the sheets and yanked them, causing her ‘Forget Me’ box to crash down onto the floor, letting out a soft moan. 

Elizabeth pulled on his hair, forcing him up. He managed to kick his pants off as she whimpered, begging, “Fuck me, Harry.”

“Say it again,” he demanded, massaging his length, preparing himself for her.

She cried, desperate for him, “Please! Fuck me.”

Harry guided himself at her entrance, teasing her by only inserting the tip before taking it back. She groaned each time he did it, scraping his hips to try and get him to go in. Finally, after a few seconds of squirming, he pushed himself deep inside of her, feeling her walls tighten up around his throbbing cock. He threw his head back, pumping slowly in and out of her wet cunt, seemingly savoring every ounce of sensations that ran through his body, from the smell of her panting breaths, to the feeling of her soft skin, to the taste of her wine-stained tongue. 

Elizabeth noticed how intensely he stared at her eyes and her lips, how thoughtfully he touched her breasts, and her stomach, and her outer thighs, almost as if he was trying to memorize the shape of her. How purposefully he thrust himself inside her.

He pressed on her stomach, feeling his thrusts deepen and her walls started to pulsate, nearing her climax. Harry’s breath labored, thrusts becoming shorter as he panted her name, knowing that he would soon be coming to an end.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, “I’m almost there.”

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Please!” Elizabeth whined, “Keep going.”

Harry tried to hold out as long as he could, breathing heavily as she rubbed her clit to try and force herself to finish first. Elizabeth shoved her face into his arm, concentrating on every stroke of pleasure, biting her lip at the edge of climax.

“I can’t!” Harry panted, quickly pulling out of her and rubbing his length on her clit, cum erupting from his tip and being squished around by the movement of their bellies as Elizabeth continued to rub her clit alongside his lubricated cock, finishing milliseconds after him.

She let out a squeal as he pussy pounded, earning a breathy kiss from Harry as he fell on the bed beside her, both too exhausted to clean up the mess just yet, just listening to each other catch their breath.

**********************************

After a while, Elizabeth managed to grab his boxers, cleaning themselves off with that, before getting under the sheets, discussing how he would have to hide his boxers in his pocket before they left the next morning.

Elizabeth cuddled into Harry’s side with his arm around her shoulder, lightly drawing on his skin as he watched her face. A moment of comfortable silence later, Harry finally whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, understanding what he was referring to, and smiled, happy that the argument was over with. Elizabeth felt for her phone and brought it to her face, searching through her contact list. When she found Kyle's name, she clicked on it, scrolled, and clicked on ‘Block This User’, before tossing it to the side. Harry’s grip tightened around her and she felt his lips smash down on her head as she continued drawing shapes onto Harry’s skin, tracing a heart near his navel. She was happy.

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