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brown-little-robin · 8 months ago

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Mrs. Kageyama Reaches ???%

People have different sides to them. Mrs. Kageyama is fine with that. She knew getting into motherhood that her kids would bring some things to their parents, and other things, they’d want to deal with on their own. That’s fine. That’s what people do!

She, for instance, worries over her kids out loud, in front of them, but only about the little things. Bumps and scrapes. Bent spoons, dropped dishes. Not the big things. She locks the big things away like an adult, only letting them out a little bit at a time so she doesn’t explode. She whispers to her husband in the dark when the kids won’t overhear them: are there any psychics in your family? Do you think your parents would know anything about how to help Shige?

As far as either Kageyama parent can tell, there aren’t any psychics in their extended families at all. Shigeo Kageyama was the first person out of the ordinary in both entire bloodlines, all the way back to the farmers (on Mrs. Kageyama’s side) and fishermen (on Mr. Kageyama’s side) who started keeping records of their family lines. And oh, it worries Mrs. Kageyama that she doesn’t know how to connect with that side of him.

There’s nothing she can do. Shigeo floats in the air as a baby, and Mr. Kageyama pulls him down like a balloon, but he floats right back up again, and there’s nothing Mrs. Kageyama can do but wait until her baby gets hungry and comes down to her again.

As a toddler, Shigeo talks to things Mrs. Kageyama couldn’t see. He repeats swear words she couldn’t hear the spirits teaching him. Actually, in that case, there is something she could do; one conversation later, Shigeo understands some social niceties he didn’t know about before.

But she can’t help with the root problem of the spirits who teach him words that he shouldn’t know. She wishes she was a psychic, too, not because it seems like fun—it certainly doesn’t, not to her—but because at least she would know what her son was dealing with.

But it isn’t that big of a deal, probably. Shige manages fine. He floats potato chips around to make Ritsu laugh and levitates all the small objects around him when he cries. It’s just another side of him. Shigeo is clearly bothered when other kids think he’s weird, but the Kageyamas let him deal with that by himself. All they can do, really, is keep loving him, feeding him, and making sure he gets to bed on time. The rest will sort itself out. Some things just wouldn’t be helped by parents getting involved.

Shigeo gets quieter as he got older. He still smiles and plays, but he doesn’t laugh out loud as much. He got self-conscious, Mrs. Kageyama thinks, because of those other little kids. Part of Mrs. Kageyama wishes she could talk to him about it, but that’s not how these things are done. Even if she tried to coax Shigeo’s hidden hurt feelings out into the open, all the parenting advice says that that would just stop him from developing the strength to deal with it on his own. And besides, real adults don’t make their children deal with their parents’ emotions.

So she hides that side of herself away. She whispers to her dear husband late at night, what if Shigeo is actually being bullied? What’s the point where we should step in?

He doesn’t know. He says, I think the boy is doing fine for now. Let’s let him socialize by himself for a while. She agrees. They let him socialize by himself. Sometimes he comes home from the park muted and weary, but he usually perks up once he’s eaten dinner, and Ritsu never fails to get a smile out of Shige.

Ritsu can connect with that side of Shigeo that Mrs. Kageyama can’t. His delight in his brother’s powers makes Shigeo smile where Mrs. Kageyama’s loving concern would just be smothering. So that’s all right. Different people can help with different needs.

Shige and Ritsu are good kids. They’re good kids, and they love each other, and they love their parents. But there are things they don’t come to their parents for. And that’s natural.

One New Year’s Day, Mrs. Kageyama got a call from a concerned neighbor and rushed to her sons. She found Shigeo standing stunned, blank-eyed, a few feet away from Ritsu, who was bleeding heavily from a head wound. Head wounds bleed a lot, she was informed by the doctors who stitched Ritsu’s precious little head up. That’s normal.

There was more blood on the ground than what could be explained by Ritsu’s head. Since she didn’t have to do anything about it, Mrs. Kageyama allowed herself to forget that fact. And then she forgot it again whenever she thought of it. Forcefully.

Ritsu didn’t explain what happened. He just went along with his mother and the doctors in a stunned, disbelieving kind of silence. He was a model patient, the doctors said.

Alarmingly, Shigeo didn’t explain what happened, either.

Mrs. Kageyama scrubbed the blood off his face in the hospital bathroom, and he didn’t resist at all. His hair didn’t rise up off his forehead in discomfort, and nothing floated, not even the water from the sink.

She squinted at him. Something was strange about him. Looking into his cast-down eyes, she could almost see something behind Shigeo’s blank expression. Something…

Something…

“Shige…?”

Shigeo made dull eye contact, and for a moment she saw with perfect clarity a boy behind his eyes, a boy with white eyes, screaming.

And then she un-saw it. Forcefully.

After all, there was nothing she could do; everyone has different sides to them, and that’s normal. Not everyone can deal with all the sides of everyone else.

After that, something is different in the Kageyama household. It feels almost like the boys had hit puberty early. Mrs. Kageyama heard from other mothers and parenting books about teenagers, how difficult they were, almost like they became different people overnight. It’s like that with Shigeo and Ritsu, only they’re still baby-faced little boys, not teenagers at all.

The tendency Shigeo always had to turn into a muted shadow of himself after a particularly hard day becomes the norm. He’s quiet. Too quiet. He’s calm. Too calm. He doesn’t laugh at all anymore. It becomes hard to remember that Shigeo was ever genuinely, visibly happy. His smiles at dinner are muted, his eyes always tired, even when he’s thanking Ritsu for unbending his spoons.

He doesn’t use his powers anymore. Not on purpose, anyway.

It hurts the side of Mrs. Kageyama that she has hidden away, the side that wants to stare deep into Shigeo’s eyes and talk to him honestly, to show him her overpowering concern for the part of himself that Shigeo doesn’t come to her for help with.

It’s not like he’s a teenage delinquent or anything, though. He’s perfectly polite. In some ways, he’s exactly the same as before. He still returns from school tired and distant but cheers up at the dinner table, even though his expressions are subtler, nowadays.

But unlike before, Ritsu can’t cheer Shigeo up.

It’s similar with Ritsu: it’s impossible to explain to other mothers how he’s changed. He’s still a model child. He’s still cheerful and helpful and nice. He just…

Sometimes Mrs. Kageyama hears him crying at night. Sometimes she catches sight of him staring at objects with such a fierce expression that she knows instantly what he’s trying to do.

The parenting advice doesn’t cover what you do when one of your children hurt the other one but both of them refuse to acknowledge that anything is wrong. The parenting advice says that if your children are angry at each other, you should give them some advice but mostly let them work it out on their own. But what if they don’t work it out? What if they never even try? There’s nothing to say.

Their family name, Kageyama, begins to seem like a cruel joke. Kage, shadow, figure, dark omen; yama, mountain, something huge and powerful. Mr. Kageyama is the one who points that out, late at night, whispering to his wife. He asks, do you think we’re cursed? Our family?

She lies, No, I think we’re fine. This is pretty normal, I think. People have different sides to them.

He thinks that over. I think you’re right. This is just… like puberty.

Now that the boys are middle schoolers, “puberty” becomes an excellent excuse to explain why the boys don’t share their other sides with their parents or each other. Everyone in the household embraces the excuse with relief.

Ritsu gets good grades. Excellent grades. He’s diligent. Too diligent. He’s a perfect son and brother. Too perfect. Everyone accepts it.

It’s been years since the New Years incident, and Ritsu and Mob—Shigeo goes by Mob at school, Mrs. Kageyama learns from his homeroom teacher—still treat each other with polite respect and no genuineness.

And—Mob? Mob? It’s a name of no identity. Mrs. Kageyama finds that nickname more and more saddening as her son’s other side drifts further and further out of reach. She calls him Shige at the dinner table and he smiles. There’s a shadow self behind his eyes, just as there’s a shadow self behind Mrs. Kageyama’s eyes.

But, after all, people have different sides to them, and that’s only natural. It used to be Ritsu who could make Shigeo happy about his powers, who could touch that side of him that Mrs. Kageyama cannot. Now, there’s someone else in her son’s life who does that: one Reigen Arataka. Her son’s after-school part-time employer and master in the psychic arts.

Shigeo doesn’t show his psychic powers to his parents, not on purpose, anyway, but she’s so, so glad he has somewhere to go to use that part of him. He’s hard to read, but Mrs. Kageyama thinks he gets something really good out of those after-school consultation hours. He often comes home thoughtful, or happier, his shoulders a little lighter, the shadow self behind his eyes not so noticeably unhappy.

She’s happy Reigen Arataka is in her son’s life.

It’s a tremendous relief when Shigeo begins to blossom in middle school. He joins a club. A club! It’s amazing!

Of all things, he chose the Body Improvement Club, which baffles Mrs. Kageyama. Shige has never been… athletic. But she’s not complaining. She’s happy for him. She nearly gasps out loud, one night, when Shigeo tentatively refers to some girl associated with (but not part of?) the Body Improvement Club, Tome Kurata, as his friend.

She nearly gasps out loud, but not quite. She hides her true excitement in that other side of herself. Her shadow self and Shigeo’s shadow self are similar, she thinks—they’re too much for the dinner table. The dinner table is a place of relaxation. Never, never does any Kageyama disturb the sacred peace of the relaxed atmosphere of the dinner table.

Which is why it’s so strange when Ritsu starts acting up and declines to eat dinner with the family.

Something is going on with Ritsu. There’s another side to him, too, but it’s locked away where Mrs. Kageyama can barely even see it. Sometimes, she forgets it’s even there. She’s ashamed of that, but there it is: Shigeo’s troubles are so much more obvious and clear-cut than Ritsu’s that… well… anyway, it becomes obvious that something is going on with Ritsu.

His grins are sharp, his eyes deadly, mannerisms completely changed. It’s as if he doesn’t realize that Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama know him. It’s as if Ritsu doesn’t realize that his parents watch both their sons closely, knowing they’re going through things that they can’t help with because they’re just normal parents and you have to let your children work things out on their own.

Mrs. Kageyama begins to wonder if Ritsu is going to confront Shigeo, finally, with the way Ritsu looks at his brother, eyes venomous. She hopes nothing bad happens. So does her husband.

But then something good happens. Something involving Reigen Arataka and psychic powers, if Mrs. Kageyama had to bet. Shigeo and Ritsu miss dinner. They come home late at night, and in the darkness, straining her ears, tense all over so that she doesn’t make a sound and scare her sons off, she hears Ritsu and Shige stopping in the hall. She hears Ritsu say goodnight, Nii-san, and Shigeo answer, mm. goodnight, Ritsu. And then—amazingly—there’s a cloth-muffled thump that might have been someone clapping someone else on the shoulder, and a quiet, happy huff that can’t have been anyone but Ritsu.

Shige doesn’t touch Ritsu. He never touches Ritsu anymore.

And yet—!

Maybe kids do work things out on their own.

After the boys’ doors close, Mr. Kageyama shifts and hugs Mrs. Kageyama tight in sheer relief. She hugs him back, fiercely, silently, choked up. She’s close to tears.

The next day, Ritsu…. Ritsu has powers. He doesn’t show them off in front of his parents, but Shigeo accidentally bends a spoon at dinner, and while Mrs. Kageyama is scolding him and arguing with Mr. Kageyama in their well-worn, comfortable ritual, Ritsu takes the spoon and just looks at it, and it unbends with a happy little flourish.

Mrs. Kageyama is so happy she could cry, and probably will cry, later, actually, when the boys aren’t around to catch her. At the dinner table, she just lets those feelings slide into her other self and grumbles, “What’s with these kids?” to make them smile.

“Here, Nii-san,” Ritsu says.

“Thanks, Ritsu,” Shigeo says, accepting the spoon. And he smiles.

Shigeo continues to change. He comes out of his shell, little by little. Ritsu gets happier, seeming younger every day. Shigeo’s friends become a bigger part of his life. He starts leaving the house not only for Reigen Arataka but for his friends, not just for the club activities, either, but for karaoke, to go out for ramen, and just to hang out.

More psychic incidents happen. The Kageyama parents can’t help with that, but they can make dinner. They can tease Shige and Ritsu about their powers. They can watch, knowing something is wrong but not pressing Shigeo on it, when he comes home from a job one day with something deep and thoughtful in his eyes. Shigeo starts drinking water instead of milk for a few days. He flinches at the sound of crows and shies away when people move too fast. Mrs. Kageyama is torn in half with the desire to ask him about it, but she doesn’t. Shigeo deals with it on his own.

Shigeo temporarily quits working with Reigen Arataka, and the Kageyamas provide a no-questions-asked, relaxed atmosphere for Shigeo to come home to. It seems to help. They see Shigeo playing video games with Ritsu and they know that Shigeo and Ritsu are going to be fine. They’re taking care of each other, better than their parents can, in some ways. Kids are resilient. Their kids are resilient. They’re so proud of them. They don’t tell them how much they know.

They cheer for Shigeo at the school marathon with all their hearts, even though the sight of him with a skinned knee gives Mrs. Kageyama a jolt of pure terror. Well, he seems to have it under control now. He doesn’t even see them as he keeps running. He’s so big.

When Ritsu opens the door to a red-headed and clearly psychic “friend of his” they’ve never heard of before and looks at them with terror in his eyes, they pretend to believe him when he asks them to leave for a spur-of-the-moment onsen trip.

Maybe it’s selfish. Mrs. Kageyama asks her husband that as they eat dinner that night, pleasantly boiled-feeling from the hot water. “Do you think it’s selfish, leaving them to deal with their psychic problems on their own?”

“Oh, they’ll be okay,” Mr. Kageyama says. “We couldn’t do anything to help them anyway. I mean, look at that!”

He points at the television, where the news is going over the psychic terrorist attack in Seasoning City yet again, with not much more information than last time. There’s live footage of police cars floating in the air.

“After all—”

The TV frizzles and fills with static. Mr. Kageyama laughs a short, helpless little laugh.

“I get it,” Mrs. Kageyama sighs. “I just worry about those boys.”

The honest side of herself writhes in pain at the understatement, but she keeps it down.

“It’s all right as long as they’re together. Shigeo will have it handled,” Mr. Kageyama says. “He’d never let Ritsu get hurt.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. In each other’s eyes, Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama see Ritsu bleeding and Shigeo with blood spattered on his face.

“That’s true,” Mrs. Kageyama says, hoping it’s true. “They’re very capable kids now.”

When Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama return home, their house has been replaced with an almost identical house. They burst into muffled laughter together in their room, covering their mouths. The pattern of the floorboards in the hall is different. How—how?

They don’t tell Shigeo and Ritsu how much they know.

Everyone has different sides to them. The Kageyama parents are at peace with this. They are at peace with the fact that they are background characters in their sons’ lives. The four Kageyamas show each other a gentle, relaxed side of themselves. It’s a sorely needed safe haven for all of them.

They could keep this up forever. Mrs. and Mr. Kageyama giggle with each other sometimes at night about how Ritsu probably won’t know they knew he was having delusions of grandeur until they’re old and gray, and maybe not even then.

Everything is alright. Still, Mrs. Kageyama sometimes misses Shigeo as a carefree little boy. Still, her shadow self yearns to connect with his.

There’s a specific kind of loneliness she thinks she shares with her older son, something not quite shared by Ritsu or her husband, although they have their own versions. She sees Ritsu use his powers to open drawers and float his school bag over, and she sees Shigeo walk across the room to get his bag, and she thinks: Shige is still stuck in his head. But she doesn’t say anything.

It’s not because of the parenting advice anymore, and it’s not because she’s worried about stunting his personal development. Shigeo is a strong person. He’s been a strong person for a long time. It’s because it’s a habit, and every time Mrs. Kageyama thinks of cornering Shigeo and just… asking him, Shige, can we talk about your powers?, she remembers that she doesn’t have powers, and how can she dare to try to connect with that side of him now, when she hasn’t really tried to do that for Shigeo’s entire life?

It’s guilt. It’s shame. It’s a habit. It’s more comfortable to stagnate.

Kids work things out on their own, right?

Besides, Shigeo isn’t repressing his emotions so much anymore, just his powers. For instance, she heard him calling Mrs. Takane, the mother of one of Mob’s childhood friends. He’s going to talk to his childhood friend again! Mrs. Kageyama is curious what he might talk to Tsubomi-chan about. Is it possible that he might finally be processing the minor bullying that used to bother him so much? But that’s probably just overthinking on her part. Shigeo doesn’t talk about it around his parents, but she’s pretty sure he used to have a crush on Tsubomi-chan, and he might still have a crush on her. Adorable. He’s growing up so fast.

When the earthquakes hit, they hit her right in the guilty conscience.

It’s Shigeo. She knows it’s him. She never really had motherly instincts, but this isn’t a motherly instinct. This is her shadow self recognizing his shadow self, which is so much like hers. The boy with white eyes, screaming. She understands what he’s doing. He’s letting out all of the destructive guilt and shame and fear and rage at himself and everything else that Mrs. Kageyama has been seeing behind his eyes for years and years.

It’s Shigeo’s shadow self, and maybe if Mrs. Kageyama had managed to be brave for once in her life and talk to him about powers, secrets, and emotions, this wouldn’t be happening.

She stares at her phone, where a grainy photo of her oldest son blurs in her vision, and she feels the sob rise in her throat and the tear drip onto the phone, obscuring the bouquet in his hand, as if someone else was doing it.

She doesn’t go out to look for him. She doesn’t have powers. She’d get killed.

It’s Reigen Arataka who brings her son home—Reigen Arataka, who she’s only met once or twice before. He’s uncharacteristically disheveled and red-eyed with crying, and his head is bleeding. Shige did that to him—it’s obvious. Shige has clearly also been crying. He looks up at his mother and father, sniffs bravely, and starts crying again.

Mrs. Kageyama kneels and hugs Shige tight. Mr. Kageyama’s arms close around her and Shigeo, encircling them, and she starts crying again.

The government gets involved, in the form of a bored-looking bald man with a strange cigarette who shows up in a helicopter. He jumps down to ground level, interrupting the crying Kageyama family and the awkwardly standing by Reigen Arataka, and says to Shigeo, “Long time no see.”

Mrs. Kageyama does not like the implication that Shigeo has met this man before.

Shigeo pushes his parents’ arms away, gently but firmly, and steps up to meet the man. He says, “I’m sorry. I’d like to help.”

“Sure, sure,” the government man says dismissively. “Might take a while to rebuild the city, but I can pretty much guarantee no one’s going to mess with you. No one died, so…” he gestures lazily with his cigarette. “This kind of thing happens every once in a while with kid espers. Just thought you might like to know.”

The government man doesn’t spare even a glance for Shigeo’s parents. They don’t ask him anything. It’s like introducing themselves might shatter the illusion of good news and make the man shout, “Gotcha! Your son is going to esper jail right now!”

The government man returns to the helicopter and lifts off. And then it’s just Shigeo, standing awkwardly on the street and not quite making eye contact with his parents, and the voice of Reigen Arataka on the phone summoning other psychics, and a man with an umbrella, “Mob”’s coworker, apparently, arriving and nervously spiriting Shigeo away to meet up with some other psychics, including the one who apparently recreated the Kageyama’s house that one time.

So they don’t address the incident immediately. Shigeo comes home that night so exhausted that he falls asleep at the table. Ritsu looks more awake, but also so dreamily happy that his parents just… don’t ask him any questions. They don’t want to disturb that happiness.

The next day, they don’t address it again. Shigeo is a heavy sleeper. He wakes up slowly, brushes his teeth, and sets off for school, which didn’t get destroyed during his shadow self’s meltdown, probably for the same reason that their house went practically untouched, though shaken, among the earthquakes. Shige doesn’t come home until very late again, and when Mrs. Kageyama gives him a bento box to eat before bed, he just says thank you. To her tentative question—were you helping with the city today, Shige?—he gives an exhausted, affirming “mm.”

He’s tired. She lets him wobble off to bed.

It doesn’t actually take very long for the city to be healed. Shige stops being tired all the time right away after his bedtime gets back to normal. He’s livelier than Mrs. Kageyama has seen him in years—smiling, joking with Ritsu, arguing with him sometimes, sulking when he feels like it. He laughs again.

He’s so different. But he’s still Shigeo. And he still has something behind his eyes. At dinner, when their eyes meet, Mrs. Kageyama’s shadow self reaches out to her son’s shadow self, still.

Which is a strange sensation, because Shigeo isn’t repressing his emotions anymore, or his powers, either. But there’s still something there, something or someone existing in reserve behind his eyes. She second-guesses herself about it at first, particularly when Mob laughs or scowls or displays his powers and emotions like he’s never thought twice about it. He seems so… whole. It’s not a child made of shadows anymore. But in other moments—when he’s watching Ritsu or when he doesn’t have much to say, when he hesitates, when he has a forgetful spell—Mrs. Kageyama is sure she sees it. Another presence within her son.

Call it motherly instincts or call it Mrs. Kageyama’s shadow self resonating with her son’s shadow self—either way, she knows. Shigeo Kageyama is still hiding another side within himself, even though that other side is happier now.

So one day, a few months after the incident, once she’s sure Shigeo is really stable like this… Mrs. Kageyama catches Shigeo before school and asks him to come home and have a talk with her after school.

He looks surprised, then nervous, then pleased.

“Yes, mom,” he says. And that’s that.

Talking to a teenager is easier than they said! That’s Mrs. Kageyama’s first, indignant thought. And then right on the heels of that thought comes what am I getting myself into?!

After school, Shigeo comes right home. Mr. Kageyama will stay at work for a while, and Ritsu has student council today; it’s the perfect time. Mrs. Kageyama sits down with her son and finds herself at a loss, not knowing exactly what to say.

Shigeo waits, watching her seriously.

“Shige,” she says, and feels her shadow self rise up in her, telling her to just break down and cry. Her voice wobbles as she tries again. “Shige, I want to tell you something. I think you’re old enough…”

Mortified alarm flashes across Shigeo’s face. Oh no! She waves her hands, trying to erase what he’s thinking.

“About your psychic powers,” she says hastily.

He looks relieved for a split second, and then his eyes widen. His hair rises up off his forehead, and she hears a slosh as something happens to the water in the sink. He’s scared? Of all things, she had not expected Shigeo to be frightened of talking about his powers. She expected him to be irritated and dismissive, like the parenting advice says that teenagers always are. The parenting advice was wrong. Again.

Suddenly reaching her limit, Mrs. Kageyama throws out all the parenting advice she’s ever heard and just… tells the truth.

“Or, ah, not about psychic powers exactly. About… Shige, I think something runs in our family, and it’s not powers, but I think you and I share it.”

Shige’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He waits like his mother is about to reveal the secrets of the universe, and in a way, she supposes, she is.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” she says carefully. “But you have more than one “self”, don’t you?”

He opens his mouth, and nothing comes out.

Nothing at all.

Mrs. Kageyama says, “You split yourself in half, back then… I saw it happen. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how to help, because I… I didn’t know what to do about my shadow self, either.”

“Your shadow self, mom?”

His voice is quiet, so quiet. Mrs. Kageyama nods, feeling her shadow self sob and writhe in her head. It’s an unsightly thing. It’s so possessive, so emotional. She can’t let it do whatever it wants. That would hurt her children, and she loves her children, so, so much. She would never hurt them.

“I kept it quiet because I thought…” she takes a sharp breath. “It’s too much, and I wanted to keep you and Ritsu… comfortable. Parents can’t ask their children to carry their worries.”

“What do you mean?” Shigeo asks. He sounds so young, and so hurt.

“I never asked you what it was like to have powers,” she blurts out, and the wave of guilt that follows is tremendous, but so is the relief. “I’m so sorry. I let you deal with everything on your own. I didn’t realize…”

Shigeo’s lips are trembling. He says, “Mom, you have a shadow self too?”

“You’re just like me,” she says, and how, how did she never know that honesty could feel so right? “I knew you were just like me, and I didn’t tell you. I thought you could deal with it on your own. I’m so sorry, Shige.”

“Mom,” he says, and starts crying.

To hell with parenting advice. To hell with keeping her shadow self from shattering the relaxed facade of the Kageyama household. Shigeo deserves better.

Mrs. Kageyama stumbles out of her kneeling posture and grabs her son and holds him close.

“Shige,” she says into his hair. “Shige. Shige.”

“I thought it was just me,” Shigeo gasps. “I thought it was just me in the dark.”

And, with a start, she realizes why his shadow self is different now. They switched places, didn’t they? The Shigeo she’s talking to right now is the one her shadow self used to stare at longingly across the dinner table.

“So you’re that one,” she says, with all the shaky, weepy tenderness she's been repressing for years. “Hello. I’m so pleased to finally meet you again.”

Shige sobs. Everything in the room is floating. She could cry. She does.

Then Shigeo pushes himself out of the hug and looks at his mother, trembling but clearly happy and calm in a way she’s rarely ever seen him, even when he was young.

“You're wrong,” he says. “I am myself. I accepted both parts.”

“So you’re—” Mrs. Kageyama stops, thinking that over. Does it not matter anymore, to Shigeo? Which “self” is which?

Could it not matter to her, either, someday?

Tentatively, she lets more of herself out.

“I’m so sorry, Shige. I listened to the wrong advice. I should be the one helping you figure this out, not the other way around.”

Shigeo looks her in the eye. He says, “Adults can change too. It’s not too late.”

She looks back, and in his eyes she sees both of him, and she knows that now he sees both of her too. And she is not afraid to show him.

Not anymore.

#SO I WAS THINKING ABOUT WHY EXACTLY THE KAGEYAMA PARENTS ARE SO IRRELEVANT TO THE PLOT #and I came up with this absolute bombshell of a headcanon/AU: Shigeo's mom does the exact same thing he does. she represses her knowledge #Is Mrs. Kageyama slightly psychic in a specific way where she can sense the presence of ???% and/or “Mob” within Shigeo? Maybe!!#That’s up to reader interpretation!#If she is psychic she certainly doesn't know it!#ahaha so!! Thanks for reading!! comments and sharing/reblogs are more than welcome!#the link leads to the ao3 version of this fic which is exactly the same except it's on ao3!#mob psycho 100 fanfic #mp100 fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #mob-blogging #kageyama siblings' parents #kageyama siblings' mother

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ifyougoillfollow · 1 year ago

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as we sink into the open sea

M/F, Gen | QPR MicNight | 1720 words | Selkie AU CW: Depiction of Suicide Attempt (non-graphic)

On the eve of his nineteenth birthday, Yamada Hizashi walks into the ocean and comes back with a wife.

Please understand, that wasn't his intention. Yamada Hizashi is not the kind of man to believe in tales of sirens and sea wives, and he is especially not the kind of man with dreams of snaring one for himself. He is, in point of fact, not a man of any dreams at all. Not anymore.

So he walks into the ocean, figuring that if he can't find the will to keep dreaming, then he can at least find some peace at last. He finds a wife, instead.

Or rather, she finds him.

She finds him as his body hits the sea floor, at the very moment the first wave of doubt rolls over him in one fell, unrelenting swoop, much too late for him to do anything about it. He's so overcome with it he doesn't think much of the figure that glides out of the ocean murk and sidles right up to him. Wide, shark-bright eyes peer at him, so close they fill up his entire swimming, pin-pricking vision, and all Hizashi can think about is how soon he's going to die, and how he’s not so sure he wants to die after all, and how little what he wants matters in this final moment, as in all the rest before it, and then the figure places one cold hand on his colder cheek and kisses him. She's all Hizashi can think of, then.

She's dark-haired and beautiful. And strong. And a good swimmer, too, but that's to be expected. She drags him back to shore, lips locked tight over his the whole way, and she doesn't let go until his lungs are clear of ocean brine.

Hizashi lies there, alive and silent on the cold, wet sand for a good while after. Long enough for the first hint of morning blue to blush over the horizon. The sea maiden lies with him, just as alive, just as silent, and infinitely more at ease. Cozied right up to his side, as if she belongs there, seemingly content to remain there for however long Hizashi has left on this Earth now that she's saved him. Try as he might, he can't figure out whether he's grateful or not. He does, however, remember his manners, on occasion, so when he finally finds his voice again, he uses it to thank her.

"You're welcome," the sea maiden replies. There's laughter in her voice. Hizashi doesn't know what there is to laugh about, though he finds himself wishing she'd actually done so, just so he could hear it. He used to love laughter. Impossibly, he still does.

Yamada Hizashi had a knack for making people laugh, once. It was all he knew how to do, really. He doesn't know much of anything now, least of all how to make the sea maiden in his arms laugh, so he says nothing.

The sea maiden in his arms says nothing either, at first, for just long enough Hizashi startles when she does speak: "Is that it?"

"Pardon?"

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"... Is there more I should be saying?"

"There must be." There it is again – the laugh in her voice. "You don't strike me as the quiet type in the least."

That's what it is – she's teasing him. It's much too familiar to do anything but rankle. "Listen, Miss –”

She snorts. "Nemuri."

"Listen –” his face burns as he realizes that's her given name, and he refuses to say it "– listen, I'm grateful to you for saving me and all, but you don't know anything about me."

She peels away from his side. "Liar."

"Pardon?"

"You're not grateful at all," she grunts through an impressive stretch, current-strong arms flung upward and out towards the heavens. She's wearing a sealskin cape and nothing else, and is so unembarrassed by it Hizashi can't muster up any on her behalf. She winks at him. "But you will be," she adds. Then: "Take off your clothes."

"Pardon?"

This time she does laugh – seagull-like – loud and sharp and to the point. "Well, I don't know much about land folk, but it's my understanding you don't handle being wet all that well."

Hizashi wraps his arms around himself, scowling. "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself."

The sea maiden stands – or at least tries to. She heaves herself upward in a motion that would probably be fluid underwater, then loses her balance, toppling backwards onto the sand, rump first. The sight of her glaring down at her legs is almost enough to pull a laugh out of Hizashi.

"Stupid things," she grumbles, kicking up sand.

Hizashi does laugh, then, which is a mistake. The sea maiden stands, suddenly sure-footed in her indignation, and uses her newfound mastery over her lower appendages to kick sand in his direction.

Hizashi cannot stop laughing. He laughs until his new companion loses interest in burying him under sand. He laughs until the sun finally frees itself from under the weight of the horizon. He laughs until he almost forgets he just tried to kill himself.

When he's all laughed out, the sea maiden is still there. Sitting across from him, hands and feet planted firmly in the sand, peering at him with a smile so dry it's a wonder she doesn't hail from land herself.

Without a word, she stands again, solid and steady, all remaining traces of sea legs gone, and hauls Hizashi to his own significantly less steady feet. While he's still reeling from... all of it – the strength of her hands around his, the seafoam-salt smell of her filling his impossibly pumping lungs, the laughter still clanging through every hollow part of him – the sea maiden takes her sealskin cape and drapes it over Hizashi's shoulders.

It's soft and musky and so warm it feels more alive than he does, but, most of all, it's heavy.

Hizashi tries to shrug it off. "Thanks," he says stiffly, "but I said I'm fine."

"I heard you," says the sea maiden, rearranging the cape around him.

"I don't need it."

"I know."

She fastens the cape closed around his neck, patting his chest firmly. It's so long it covers Hizashi all the way down to his shins. On her, it must have just brushed over the sand at her feet. The uncanny warmth of it doesn't seep even as the seafront breeze hits it, makes it flap and flutter around him in a heavy, even bump-bump, bump-bump beat. Nothing could ever hope to reach him past that beat and that warmth.

"I don't want it, either," he lies, because he has to, because he's never known what to do in the face of so much want, because he's always wanted too many things, and he's wanted them too much.

"Neither do I," says the sea maiden, breezy as the morning. "Maybe we should leave it here, lying around. I'm sure no one else would find it, if we hid it well enough."

Hizashi blanches at the thought. He may not be the kind of man to believe in tales of sea wives, but he has heard enough of them to be wary of the kind of man who does. He fumbles for the clasp at the base of his throat. "Just take it back. Go home."

"Hm, I don't think so." She sidesteps his attempts to foist the cape back onto her, walking away backwards, hands clasped behind her head. "I think I'll stick around here for awhile. Explore the land realm. It seems exciting."

Hizashi chases after her, cape held out like a net. "It isn't."

She twirls away again. "Liar."

"It's too exciting, then. Dangerous."

"So is the ocean – didn't stop you from walking into it."

"That was –" Hizashi falters, loses his footing "– different," he finishes lamely, hands fisted in the sand-soiled cape caught under his knees.

The sea maiden stands over him. "You're right," she says, "that was different – I'm not going into this trying to die. I'd say that alone makes my odds of survival look pretty swell, don't you think?"

Hizashi stares up at her, looming tall against the dawn sky, so tall she dwarves the rising sun itself, and has no doubt she'd survive even the drying of all seven seas if it meant she got to live.

"You're naked," he says, because he's running out of arguments, and the will to keep making them.

"I wouldn't be if you gave me your clothes,” she shoots back, “I gave you mine, didn't I? It would only be fair."

The cape is velvet-smooth as Hizashi slides it out from under himself, warmer still from the heat of his body and the sun-washed sand, which slides off of it like ocean spray from mossy seaside cliffs. His sea maiden – Nemuri – takes it from him and helps him back to his feet. She folds it over her arm, as if merely holding on to it for the moment, and arches an expectant eyebrow at him.

Sighing, Hizashi shrugs off his coat. "Yes,” he relents, “I suppose it would only be fair."

On the dawn of his nineteenth birthday, Yamada Hizashi walks into town with nothing but a sealskin cape on his back and a wife.

Or so the townsfolk like to tell it, because the townsfolk love a good fairy tale romance almost as much as they love to pity him. In time, they will come to pity him even this moment and his sea-wild wife, as outrageous as she is beautiful, as the very ocean itself, and Yamada Hizashi will do what he has always done in the face of undue pity, which is to laugh in it and continue loving whoever and whatever he loves, in whichever way he sees fit.

But that will come later. For now, in the rosy light of a dawn he never planned to see, Hizashi walks into town beside Nemuri, the sea maiden who saved his life – the woman who will be called his wife and be so much more – and is content enough to have finally figured out he’s grateful, even if he has yet to figure out much else. The rest will follow, he’s sure, in good time and – even better – good company.

#yamada hizashi #present mic #kayama nemuri #midnight #micnight #qpr micnight #i wrote a thing #mermay #cw: suicide #it feels weird adding such a heavy content warning given that this is not a heavy story overall but better safe than sorry #anyway surprise mermay fic everyone!#it's me i'm everyone #this fic blindsided me ngl but i quickly grew obsessed with it and needless to say i got Lore #lore that i refused to even hint at in the fic because i Do Not need any more long form wips and i do love me a good one-shot #but who knows maybe one day i'll revisit this au i do so love it #also decided to post the whole fic here instead of just doing my usual ao3 link thingy because i recently locked my fics to registered user #-only because of the whole ai fuckery going around lately which y'know sucks #but this way anyone who wants to read it but doesn't have an ao3 account can do so through here so hopefully that helps #anyway #enjoy loves <3

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ionkent · 1 month ago

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rewatching iwtv and the lesdaughter shit fandom does is so ass

#its weird bc the comparisons r there but yall talk out ur ass. fandom in general is so baddd yall dont deserve these black queers :(#maybe if ppl did it in a way that wasnt just trying to feminize lestat. or trying to erase claudias autonomy & character progression for #fanfic itd be worth reviewing!!!#posting a fic in loustat n claudia ao3 tags but its just a pdf link to when fathering fails by mj diamond #n e way is this a safe space...eventhou she did love louis can i say i love the idea of claudia being lastnameless...

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seaslimes · 3 months ago

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Every time I see those posts about the AO3 F/F to M/M ratios, all I can think is:

Okay, excellent point. But what if you just wrote it?

Like. Yeah, man, I'm sure it's discouraging to see raw numbers talking about how your ship doesn't get the rep it needs. But when you get down to numbers... sometimes the difference within fandoms is less than 500 more M/M works than F/F works. That's actionable. You can fill that gap with a fraction of the people liking / reblogging posts about F/F erasure.

Sometimes the gap is bigger. It's like, 1000 more works are tagged M/M. 2000, or more. Yeah, that's a big gap, but you could make it one less. If every person liking or reblogging a post about the disparity of ship fics on AO3, that number would shrink drastically, or outright disappear.

IDK. I write F/F. I write M/M too, as well as M/F. But I write F/F, and when I see that sorta post. It doesn't feel like a call to action. It feels like somehow, in some way, I'm not doing enough when I post up fanfiction for free about stuff I like.

It makes me feel like I should stop sharing my F/F work, that it doesn't matter, that people don't recognize the effort or love or time that goes into it. Even beyond that, I feel discouraged about the work I have put out, because thousands of words written all about an F/F pairing are only seen in that raw stat format.

"There's X M/M fics and Y F/F fics." Yes, I know, and that has to suck. But look at how many people wrote F/F fics! Have you commented on each of those F/F fics? Have you given kudos? Did you feel inspired to write or draw because of those F/F fics? That's what fandom is for. That's why we create. If that's not inspiring you to "close the gap" on those stats, I don't know what to say.

#personal talk #ao3 writer #ao3 stats #IDK. Man. Sometimes it feels like those posts are made in bad faith. Especially when there's no CTA. No encouragement to actually read the #—fics that exist. Massive reblog chains talking about X fandom or Y fandom not having enough F/F fics that don't background the characters.#Dude! That could be you! You could be on the front lines of this issue. You clearly care about it. A lot. You clearly are passionate about—#your ship getting the representation it needs. That is so fair and commendable. Why haven't you linked your favorite F/F ships? Why haven't #you recommended your favorite F/F writer? Why haven't you organized some F/F themed AO3 event all about writing ladies with ladies?#It can be so goddamn discouraging to write F/F at times. Not even because there's ' ' less engagement ' ' because that's not why I write it #I write F/F ships because I like them! They are fun to me! I like those characters and want to smoosh them together like dolls! But seeing—#post after post after post after post. Ragging on these stats. Taking screenshots of fandoms and their M/M to F/F ratios. How many of those #F/F fics did you even fucken read. How many of them did you even bother to slap kudos on. How many of those fics did you share with your—#friends on Discord or email to your buddies or talk about on your Tumblr? Like. People aren't writing F/F for you to consume. They're #—writing F/F to share what they like with the world. So maybe do the bare minimum and share that passion? IDK. It's really fucken hard.#Both to see this kinda thing and to articulate it. The problem feels like the solution is just so obvious. I saw a post with 18000 likes.#If every single one of those people wrote a 300w ficlet. Suddenly there would be 18000 F/F fics. How is this not mathing. Come on.

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meta-squash · 6 months ago

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dedication is writing a 20k+ torchwood fic and not even knowing if it'll be able to be posted on ao3 because it's an experimental piece with weird formatting

#i don't really understand how work skins function #so idk if i can do some of the formatting on ao3 that google docs is letting me do #in any case i'm having fun #if ao3 won't let me post it idk maybe i'll just link the google doc lol

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ambrosykim · 1 year ago

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your loving arms are the true delight

pairing: ambrose kim x f!button (alex wiseman) words; rating: 2,5k; mature (non-explicit sex at the end) summary: alex and ambrose's first time getting intimate a few months into dating a/n: i've been writing this for so long and it's sg really close to my heart so enjoy the nerds being super grossly in love while exploring alex's asexuality

"so, what are your plans then?" nick leans against the doorframe as alex is putting her shoes on.

"oh, i've been meaning to show ambrose this small restaurant--"

"the one with the squid ink pasta?! i thought we agreed on keeping that a family secret!" nick is looking at her as if alex just set one of his ovens on fire - which, for the record, she has done. but only once and he keeps bringing it up even though it's been years.

alex raises her brows in response to her brother, but still says "well, i'm showing it to him anyways. you're not the boss of me," ending the sentence with a mental picture of her sticking her tongue out even if she feels too formal in her outfit to actually do it.

nick rolls his eyes.

"fine, i may just not want the place to get ruined for me by knowing that ambrose kim has set foot in there before," at alex opening her mouth, nick continues. "and i know, 'i need to grow up' i'm trying, okay? it's hard enough to accept that ambrose kim is dating my baby sister."

at this alex once again raises a lone eyebrow and mentally responds to her brother. "-and yes, i know, you're not a baby anymore and i love seeing you happy but it might take me a bit more time to accept ambrose kim as the source of that happiness." as a response alex only leans in to hug nick, who in turn uncrosses his arms to embrace her back.

their moment is interrupted by two sharp knocks on the front door.

he's here.

"speaking of the devil," nick has a slight smirk on his face. "don't let me keep you from your beau." alex gives a slightly annoyed huff at this, but quickly regains her previous cheeriness.

it's hard to be annoyed when a fancily dressed ambrose kim is on the other side of the door, waiting for her. as she's about to open the door, she calls back a quick "don't wait up!" to nick. to this, nick only answers with a wiggle of his eyebrows and an "ooh la la!" which alex quickly tunes out in favour of being able to properly kiss her boyfriend in greeting.

even though it's becoming one of her favourite pastimes, sometimes it still feels odd to be leaning down to kiss rosy- ambrose. despite him reassuring her that the height difference doesn't bother him, alex sometimes still feels overly conscious of the half foot that she's got on ambrose. still, the height difference allows for easy access to his forehead for forehead kisses, which she's getting more and more fascinated with, even though - or especially because - he always grumbles about it, but still allows it.

—

nick's comment only resurfaces in alex's thoughts upon entering ambrose's house after their pleasant restaurant date.

it really was lovely, after their meals they shared some tiramisu and talked about their most cherished books. after a while it evolved into alex ranting about her favourite character, to which ambrose only attentively listened to without any complaints - in fact, he seemed very taken by her enthusiasm. he really is an ideal date, alex must say.

after closing the door, ambrose turns to her.

"would you care for some tea? i've recently bought some strawberry tea and i wanted to get your opinion on it."

"that would be great, thank you," alex is still toeing off her shoes, so she misses the way ambrose softly nods at her as he makes his way into his kitchen.

she suspects that he mainly keeps tea at home for her enjoyment, since she knows ambrose prefers coffee. a bit after they started dating, an electric kettle suddenly appeared in his kitchen which he was very nonchalant about, but alex assumes he most likely bought it for her, since she’s been spending a considerable time at his house in the past months.

it's become a habit to have tea after their dates, which alex absolutely adores.

they sit on his couch - a dreadful cream colour, devoid of personality - and usually read together or play cards. lately ambrose has been teaching her to build a house of cards, but she's not very good at it, usually letting it fall apart with her exhaling laughter.

today, however, alex is suddenly preoccupied with overthinking what nick said - or implied more like - to her, his way of singing out 'ooh la la' ringing in her head.

as ambrose approaches with two mugs of steaming tea - both strawberry, as he has been expanding his tea drinking horizons since starting to date alex - alex snaps out of her trance of overthinking. she takes the mug, cradling it in her hands while ambrose sits down next to her.

noticing alex's motionless state, he starts to gather their books, as if to settle in for a night of quiet reading, but alex knows that he's giving her time to start talking. despite being usually chatty, ambrose knows how hard serious conversations are for her, and he feels that alex is thinking over something heavy. when he has their books - alex keeps a book at ambrose's for nights such as this - he hands the right one to alex.

after taking it - while her focus is still seemingly on the cover of the book - alex starts speaking.

"you know i want to have sex with you, right?" flicking her eyes up at her boyfriend she realises he's staring at her with a blank look. though she hasn't figured out all his expressions yet in their three months of dating, she can feel his shock rippling through the air. "i mean... eventually, you know? not right now but," as she continues speaking, he slowly puts his book down on the coffee table to join their mugs of tea, turning his body towards alex.

when she still doesn't get a reply, she continues. "-but, like soon? i guess? i don't know how soon after starting to date is normal... and you know i haven't had sex before so i'm like, kind of nervous about it. not that i don't trust you, you know i do, i just-" ambrose puts one hand on alex's knee, which immediately shuts her up. she looks up from where she's still staring at the book in her hand, only watching as he plucks it from her grasp and joins their hands together.

"alex, please breathe. i hope you know i'm not expecting anything from you. not now, or ever." despite ambrose keeping his expression neutral, alex can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"i know, i just... don't want you to feel like i'm not attracted to you, or that i'm waiting for you to seduce me or something."

at this, ambrose raises a single eyebrow, as if him 'seducing' anyone - even alex - is ridiculous. to be fair, alex has to keep herself from laughing at the mental image of ambrose throwing himself at her while clad in lingerie. as if reading her mind, ambrose's eyes narrow in alex's direction, but she knows he's determined to continue the conversation. getting over the mental image of ambrose in lingerie, alex continues. "because i am. attracted to you, that is. you know that i've got difficulties with the whole sexual attraction thing, and after a comment nick made, i'm just overthinking everything." she gestures at her head, as if to indicate where exactly her overthinking is happening at the moment.

"plus, i just like having a plan for everything, so maybe let's come up with one for the time we end up having sex?" alex's big eyes bore straight into ambrose's own, and he nods.

"that sounds perfect. i would like to know what you'd be comfortable with doing and what i could do to make it enjoyable for you."

still sitting turned towards each other, alex suddenly tries to hide her face by looking over her shoulder. as ambrose reaches over to cradle her head while gently turning it to face him, he sees tears welling up in alex's eyes.

"i'm sorry. what you said was just so perfect and i just-" ambrose wipes the tears off her face with his thumbs and leans up to slowly kiss alex's forehead.

"we will have a detailed discussion later, about what you're fine with and what i should avoid doing," as he says that, he continues to hold alex's face in his hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

alex opens her mouth, to which ambrose lowly chuckles before speaking.

"i know, you like to have a plan for everything, which is why, in this conversation, we will also include a detailed schedule for our first time, all right?" to this, alex only nods, while letting out a watery chuckle that sounds eerily similar to a sob.

"thank you. weird how the tables turned in this conversation huh? look at you, doing most of the talking," and with that, alex is back to being her usual self, only the subtle shining of tears in her eyes indicating that the past few minutes actually happened.

while glad that his girlfriend is seemingly returning to herself, ambrose stares into her eyes, as if looking for a confirmation that she really is all right. after finding what he’s looking for in alex’s gaze, he nods to himself, finishing his inspection with a peck to her cheek.

her eyes crinkling with joy at this, she chases his mouth to capture it in a proper kiss which he eagerly responds to, while not letting it become anything more. with that, she reaches to get their reading off the coffee table. she hands ambrose one of the books as she settles down on the couch, leaning into the side of her boyfriend for an evening of quiet relaxation, shelving this conversation for later.

—

in the end, after some thorough discussion, they came up with a plan they were both comfortable with. ambrose made sure to talk through exactly what touch alex would be fine with, even though they agreed that he would be physically removed for most of their first time.

alex has never done anything like this before and she is nervous. she is currently laying on the bed against the headboard, still talking to ambrose who’s just coming in from the other room.

even though she's gotten used to ambrose's attention being focused on her, this is something entirely new, and she knows he’s noticed her slight tension. she can feel his gaze on her as she gets comfy on the bed, while he sits in the chair that’s been brought in for him from the kitchen.

she proposed to let him on the bed with her but ambrose insisted that the chair would offer him a better view - to which alex blushed a deep pink, and ambrose only answered by clearing his throat.

now, she's leaning against the headboard - which is firm under her head, grounding her - with most of her clothes gone.

ambrose was meticulous in removing her clothes, while also not making her feel overwhelmed in the process. he made sure she was comfortable with his actions by dizzying her with kisses, which made her both more eager and more compliant with him. still, he didn’t overdo it, and was very precise in which part of her body he touched.

(god, alex loves him so much.)

after she has been properly riled up through the slow undressing and kissing process - which took around half an hour not that she was timing it - she is now laying against the headboard in only her bralette and an unbuttoned shirt, making eye contact with ambrose.

he's sitting with his arms crossed, only dressed in his black joggers - and looking very enticing if alex can say so herself.

maintaining eye contact, she slowly moves her hands down her body, stopping at her center. she doesn't know what to do with her other hand, so she slides that over her breast, more out of comfort than any stimulation.

she's hyperaware of her lover's intense stare, and though he hasn't changed his position since sitting down, alex knows he's affected just by how hard he’s clutching his crossed arms. still, today is not about his pleasure, but about getting to know alex and her comfort levels with intimacy and sex, and he knows that. his eyes suddenly jump from alex's own, to where she just started touching herself.

she still feels a bit nervous, but just looking at ambrose and his lips pressed together from concentration - and from how much he's affected by her - helps. shifting her focus to his arms - still crossed, muscles bulging from how hard he's holding himself back - she feels herself getting more and more wet. she's also just as affected by him as he is by her, her quiet breathy whimpers filling the silence of the room.

just then – maybe after hearing her - with eyes flicking to hers, ambrose stands up and makes his way to the foot of the bed.

he does so as slowly as he can, giving alex time to adjust to his proximity. as he sinks down to the bed, alex nudges him with her leg, giving him permission to touch her. he slowly snakes his hands onto her calves, tightly holding on, his eyes still boring into hers.

alex flits her gaze down to concentrate on where his hands are grabbing her skin, looking intently at his hands – she’s always loved his hands, strong and sturdy - as she continues rubbing herself, getting close. she's nearly willing him to move closer, but he's keeping a respectful distance, though he slowly starts stroking her legs.

she could come by only the way he looks at her. it's as if he wants to devour her whole, yet still so full of tender love.

as she's getting close, she detaches her hands from her body to make grabby hands to her boyfriend, who complies with a slight smirk on his face, coming to cage her thighs with his muscular ones, careful to not put his weight on her. he gently but firmly grabs alex's face, kissing her deeply but still keeping his eyes open, as if not wanting to miss a single moment of what's happening.

as he envelops alex with his frame – keeping a small distance between their bodies - she reaches down to continue rubbing herself where she left off. as a response, ambrose grips her waist with one hand and slowly holds her breast with the other, swiping his thumb over her nipple, making alex's voice hitch as she comes.

at this, ambrose detaches his mouth from alex's, wanting to be able to watch his partner come. afterwards, alex reaches up to kiss him, conveying all her love towards him, smiling into the kiss.

as ambrose lays down next to her, she turns to him, snuggling in close to him.

ambrose huffs a small laugh but accepts his fate, knowing that he can’t escape from alex’s need from cuddles.

#mind blind #rosykim #rosy kim #oc: alex wiseman #alex x rosy #nett writes #posting this again without the ao3 link!#so if u think youve seen this maybe you have lol #i feel like im talking to an empty auditorium at this point with my mind blind posting lmaooo #anyways. ace people can still have sex <3 #also pls appreciate me writing (sort of) smut as a fully sex repulsed person lmao

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