#but the atmosphere that's meant to be conveyed here is. cold

[floral-comet-whump]

hello! this was supposed to be the original post where both I as a whump writer and walenty debut, but I got inspired by this post and wrote a snippet

contents: captivity whump, fantasy whump (hardly mentioned), institutionalized whump, interrogation whump/tortured for information, restraints, mention of suicide attempt, discussion and threats of death, off-screen past and future torture, lady whumpee (she will probably never appear again sorry), attempted conditioning, defiant whumpee, cold/impersonal whumper, remorseful whumper, minor whumper/whumpee (16-17), (non-combatant) living weapon whumper

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Walenty blinks. That’s not the answer they wanted. Ruby looks right back, damp hair sticking to her face. They’d offered to move it out of the way if she answered a question.

“No,” Walenty puts their cheek into their palm, using it as an unneeded crutch for their head. “I don’t.”

“You do!” The prisoner snaps, yanking her head forward as best as she can. They internally note to secure it to the back of the chair before they leave so she can’t kill herself by slamming it back until her skull breaks. “You- You keep saying I’ll get stuff if I talk! I see what you’re doing with that reward system,” she hisses out, “And that incentive, and good behavior. I’m not some dog you can train!”

That’s literally just how interrogation works, they bite back. They wait to see if she’ll continue, tracing the stitching of their chair. Ruby's eyes are just as full of rage as when they’d gotten here. Maybe because they’ve cleaned her wounds? It doesn’t matter so long as they receive correct intel.

“Answer me, dammit!”

Their free hand pauses at the shout.

“This is my job,” gloved fingers interlace on their lap. “I need answers, Ruby. If tying your hair back isn’t enough, what would you like I do?”

“Let me go!” She demands loudly again, and they don’t flinch this time. “I’m not cooperating with the likes of you.”

She’s like a broken record, they think.

It’s gone in a loop for hours. They question and she refuses to answer. They threaten and she answers and they don’t know if it’s true. They question again, and she refuses again. They go through with the threat. She caves. They question. She refuses. She refuses. She refuses. They threaten something else. She caves. They question. She answers. They question, she answers. They question, she hesitates. She refuses to answer, and it restarts.

“That’s not how this works,” Walenty, too, is a broken record. “So give me something. At this rate, your wounds will get infected and you’ll die. Do you seriously want a torture chamber to be your deathbed?”

Silence settles over the dim room.

“...I’m not getting out alive anyways.” Her voice breaks, and so does eye contact with the interrogator. “At least I’ll go out nobly.”

Walenty looks down at their notepad. Everything’s encrypted anyway, so there’s no reason not to write draft reports in front of her. They close it, bookmarking their page with elastic and adding a loop for their pen.

“This isn’t working,” they finally say it out loud, standing to put the logs on a seperate surface. “And you’re obviously not gonna talk.” Walenty takes the scalpel and wipes it with already-wet cloth. “So I’ll leave you to rot down here.”

“...What?”

The enby finishes, putting both on the tray of to-be-cleaned instruments.

“You can’t be serious.”

They walk to the door, “You said you wouldn’t mind dying,” they reminded, removing their badge and imbuing the password in it, unlocking two of three locks. “So have fun succumbing to nature.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” Ruby points out as they walk back and fetch a blindfold. She’s returned to glaring. “You’re bluffing.”

They put the badge back and return to tie the blindfold around her eyes, utilizing the chair’s high back and fabric’s stretchy material to secure— “Stop that!” —the girl’s head too.

Walenty strolls over to the counter they left their notebook on and puts it in their bag. They detach the only key that’s actually just a key for this room.

“You’ll come back.” She insists, and they simply hum, inserting the key into the lock.

They twist it.

“They won’t let me die until they know everything and we both know it.”

She’s right, but she’ll begin to doubt herself soon. The heavy door creaks open. They slide the light glyph off, and only then take the key. They step out and slam it shut, showing the still-enchanted badge to the mechanism’s sensors. They hear it lock. Walenty inserts it once again, spinning counterclockwise this time. Click.

Walenty sighs, deflating. They resist the urge to actually slouch. Instead, the interrogator remains standing there. It’s so damn bright every they step out that it has to be its own kind of torture. They extract the key from its hole and clip it back in its place.

They sigh a second time, turning around to lean back against the closed entrance.

This is enough information for just one session, they think. She’ll get desperate next time, and start to believe that they really had left her to die in there, only to have her reality reshaped again when they're back.

It’s going fine.

It’ll work. Ruby will break, Walenty will have information, and then they’ll kill her. Or maybe she’ll be recruited, she’s young enough. They’ll ask around. Can’t risk wasting resources.

A third sigh leaves their lips, and the human glances around to make sure nobody is watching before resting their forehead on the door.

Breathe in. Hold.

They really have become heartless. It’s reasonable to get desensitized, they know that from observation and experience. It’s still jarring. They wish they could leave it all behind. Run away from the suffering they’ve inflicted and been complicit in without facing consequences.

Breathe out.

But they can’t. There’s no way. They’ll be found. They’ll be found again and they don’t think desertion will be pardoned this time. Even the execution will be extremely painful, but it’s not as if it’s nothing compared to the suffering they’ve inflicted. Screams and healing spells and bloodied clothes and the stench of vomit and disgustingly damp fabric and compliance and—

Don’t think like that.

Walenty sharply inhales at the still locked door, touching the corner of their eye with a glove. Flaky blood stays flaky. Phew. They spin around and begin to walk out of this dreadful place, because they’ve broken both themselves and others to have that privilege. Walenty won’t fall apart. They want to live. Even if they torture again and again, they don’t want to die.

Walenty doesn’t want to die.

[cowb0yluvrr]

EMBRACES FROM BEHIND.

[ 💌 : quick sketch art by cilorine! reminds me so much of a doujin cover!! since cowboy bebop is a 90s anime, i thought to get a commission of spike and i done in a retro style that is more so adjacent to sailor moon's atmosphere! she's super sweet and so talented as she flourishes in animation as well! please check out her other works! <3

this was meant to be a lot shorter, but i ended up getting so emotional and it quickly turned into a little drabble haha! words cannot express how much i love this man, but i tried my best to convey a piece of us here! i suppose this is a bit of a yumejoshi diary entry as i'm exploring more with writing in 1st person after so long! ]

Spike's limb-wrapped love always gifts my stomach those familiar little kisses conjured by a monarch's wings—fluffed tangerine and timid, slothful beneath the rib cage. Every time feels like a first. I can always tell it's him before he even touches me, the way his hum “mmm . .” spills into my ear canal and melts into my mind, the way his colognes were sprayed against his lazy spirit to blanket the basking smell of nicotine and slight musk after a lengthy night. It was his trademark scent, and it was a scent I've grown to cherish—the same way those arms cherish me.

We rarely embrace each other from a face-to-face view. I've noticed, and when I asked him why curiously, I watched as his brow gently creased to illustrate a single, faint wrinkle across the edge—something he did when focused on his thoughts. There was no witty grin or playful eyes when he looked at me, and it was how I knew the answer was going to be rather genuine, without the adornment of sarcastic words we flung in jest.

He shrugged, a small arch to each shoulder, "It’s complicated, I guess. Old habits die hard, and holding you from behind just feels . . . natural. It’s how I first really started showing you affection, remember?”

He went silent briefly, and I felt as his fingers kissed along my brown patterns. It was a wondrous aspect of life, how sometimes the coldest of men had the warmest touches. Could he have ever truly been cold? Viscous?

“It lets me watch over you better. Protect you. Even if it’s just from my own demons, or whatever shadows creep into our lives. Having you close like this makes me feel grounded. Safe.”

And as he went silent again, I let a moment pass, trying to see if he was going to speak further. When he didn't, I opened my mouth to respond, but his tongue beat mine.

“But the truth is . . . sometimes looking you straight in the eye is too overwhelming. Too raw. It forces me to confront all these feelings I’ve been trying to outrun for years—feelings I'm not used to acknowledging, let alone embracing.”

His arm tightened around me, burying his face in my neck and breathing me into his lungs to replace the sour dance of smoke—the earthy balm that he knew as uniquely I. “When I hold you from behind, it gives me that chance to hide a little.”

My face softened when I learned the origin, and my hand reached to cradle a side of him I never knew until now.

“Spike, you don't have to hide from me . .”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning into my palm with an essence that seemed to carry centuries of longing and exhaustion, the heaviest weight known to him. I could feel that weight in my hands. “And maybe one day, I'll stop running from my own reflection long enough to look you square in those big, beautiful eyes of yours. To let you see everything that I am, flaws and all.”

His lips met my knuckle, “For now, though . . just let me hold onto you like this, yeah? Let me soak in your presence until it becomes a part of me, like the bubbles in this tub. Until I can’t tell where your warmth ends and mine begins.”

His smile was so soft, interweaved with a hint of melancholy, but full of tender promises all the same. They were words he never knew how to say before—words that vanished from the pink of his throat in past-depressive hues of gray and blue.

“Someday, Bubs . . .”

Yes. Someday . . . and I’ll always be willing to wait for you, even beyond the very end.

“And you call me the sappy one, don't you?” My grin mixed into my chuckle. "I've never heard you speak poem language, baby.”

“Hey, don’t go spreading that around. I've got a reputation to uphold, y’know. Can’t have the galaxy’s most notorious bounty hunter goin’ all soft,” he teased, a low purr rumbling within his golden chest as he angled his head to give my lips a clearer byway to his jaw. “But I guess you bring it out of me. All this . . . poetry and vulnerability. Who knew you’d be the one to finally crack the Spike Spiegel code, huh?”

His hand slid up my nude spine, fingers tangling along bone as if he were trying to memorize every inch of me, and I'd let him. Every time.

“You're dangerous, woman. Dangerous and addictive, just like that smile you showed me so long ago. And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

©️ COWB0YLUVRR . please do not plagiarize, distribute, or translate any of my work without my permission!

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER FIVE: CARDS ON THE TABLE

Robby Keene x OC!Reader || WC:

A/N: Happy Saturday everyone! We're finally getting into some drama! I loved writing this episode SO much!! I promise Robby's appearance will be worth the wait! Any TVD/Twilight  fans here? 🙋🏻‍♀️

WARNINGS: Bullying, cursing, mild angst!

➩ previous chapter || next chapter

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

Counselor Blatt's voice, usually a gentle murmur lost in the cafeteria's din, boomed with unexpected force, slicing through the clatter of trays and the buzz of lunchtime chatter. "Cyberbullying is no laughing matter!" She declared, her gaze sweeping across the crowded room, a sternness etched into her usually soft features. The clatter of silverware against plastic trays seemed to amplify the sudden silence.

"Sending a cruel message to someone online," She continued, her voice resonating with a somber weight. “Can be just as hurtful, if not more, than saying it to their face." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of frustration creasing her brow. "I'm not gonna name names," She stated, her voice laced with a subtle reprimand, "'But the other day, a mother called me up because her son was crying after some kids online made fun of his facial deformity."

Katherine whom was sitting at a table near the center of the cafeteria, let out a sharp, incredulous scoff. "Facial deformity?" She muttered under her breath, her eyes widening in pure disbelief at Blatt's clumsy phrasing. The word hung in the air, amplifying the very issue Blatt was supposedly trying to address. She had, in her attempt to illustrate the seriousness of cyberbullying, inadvertently pinpointed Eli, whose prominent scar was a source of deep insecurity. A wave of snickers rippled through the room, a cruel undercurrent to the already tense atmosphere.

Upon noticing Eli's shift in demeanor, Katherine slid her hand beneath the table, her fingers finding Eli’s. She squeezed his hand tightly, a silent promise of support in the midst of the cafeteria’s cruel spectacle. She zoned out Counselor Blatt's droning speech, her focus narrowing to a laser-like intensity. Her eyes, usually bright and friendly, now flashed with a cold fury, shooting daggers at anyone who dared to whisper or snicker about Eli. The air around her crackled with unspoken threats, a silent declaration that anyone who dared to mock her best friend would face her wrath.

Just then, Miguel, leaned forward, his voice low but audible. "You know, if you're sick of getting bullied, my karate dojo's looking for recruits." He offered, as he turned to face Eli. Demetri, ever the cynic, snickered. "Oh really?" He drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You hear that, Eli? A little karate training, and you're gonna kick some major ass." He mimicked a karate chop, his exaggerated movements further mocking the already humiliated Eli. Katherine rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips. Demetri's timing was, as always, spectacularly awful.

"I'm serious, Demetri, all right?" Miguel insisted, his voice hardening slightly. "My sensei's the real deal, and I'm sure I could get you both discounts." He bargained, his eyes flickering between Eli and Demetri, but both boys remained stubbornly skeptical. "As enticing as that sounds," Demetri retorted, his voice laced with dry wit, "I think we'd rather spend our afternoons playing Crucible Control than getting hit in the face." He gestured vaguely, his posture conveying his complete lack of interest.

Eli, still hunched over and mortified, didn't even bother to look up. The offer of karate, meant to be a lifeline, seemed to only add to the weight of his humiliation. Miguel, sensing the pointlessness of his karate offer, shrugged, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He decided to drop the subject, recognizing the heavy atmosphere wasn't the time nor place for recruitment. "Alright, alright," He muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, and one last thing," Counselor Blatt announced, her voice regaining its authoritative tone, drawing their attention back to the front of the cafeteria.

“While we're all looking forward to the Halloween dance, let's make sure our costumes are culturally sensitive." A collective murmur rippled through the cafeteria. Students exchanged glances, a mix of confusion and amusement coloring their expressions. "For example," Blatt continued, her attempt at a helpful suggestion landing with a thud, "instead of 'sexy nurse,' maybe try 'gender-neutral hospital employee.'" Katherine's eyes rolled so dramatically they almost disappeared into her hairline. The sheer absurdity of the suggestion was almost comical, a stark contrast to the earlier, painful discussion about cyberbullying.

Miguel, seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood, nudged Katherine with his elbow. "You thinking of being a sexy nurse for Halloween?" He joked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Katherine retaliated with a sharper elbow jab, her lips twitching with a hint of amusement despite her exasperation. "You're hilarious," She replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The exchange, though brief, broke the oppressive silence that had settled over their table. Demetri and, to Katherine's relief, even Eli, managed a quiet chuckle.

The following evening, West Valley High School transformed. The sterile, fluorescent-lit hallways, usually echoing with the hurried footsteps of students, pulsed with a vibrant, chaotic energy. It was the night of the infamous Halloween Dance, a yearly spectacle of costumes, music, and teenage awkwardness. The gym, normally a space for sweaty PE classes and roaring basketball games, was now a dimly lit bathed in the eerie glow of strobe lights and swirling fog machines.

Decorations, ranging from flimsy cobwebs to elaborate, hand-crafted monstrosities, adorned the walls, creating a surreal, almost theatrical backdrop. Music throbbed from the speakers, a mix of current pop hits and classic Halloween anthems, its bass reverberating through the floor and into the students’ chests. The air crackled with anticipation, a blend of excitement and nervous energy. Samantha, decked out in a shimmering Lakers cheerleader costume, turned to Katherine, a pout marring her heavily made-up face. "I still can't believe you didn't dress up with us," She complained, her voice laced with a hint of petulance.

Katherine who was dressed in a stylish black dress offered Samantha a wry smile. "No offense, but I didn't want to dress as a Laker girl and hang out with your stuck-up friends all night," She retorted, a slight cringe accompanying her words. The thought of spending the evening surrounded by Kyler and his entourage was enough to send shivers down her spine. Before Samantha could retort, Kyler materialized, his arm snaking around her waist. "Come on, babe," He drawled, his eyes scanning the crowd with a predatory gleam. "Let's find a good spot." He pulled Samantha away, leaving Katherine standing alone near the entrance.

Relieved to be free of Samantha's company, Katherine scanned the room, her eyes landing on Eli and Demetri, who stood awkwardly near a corner, their posture suggesting they were trying to blend into the wall. She made her way over, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Nice costumes, guys," She complimented, her voice warm and friendly. "Who are you supposed to be? A vampire?" Demetri asked, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Katherine's dark attire. "Not just any ordinary vampire," Katherine replied, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "I'm Katherine Pierce."

Eli chuckled, recognizing the reference instantly, but Demetri's brow furrowed in confusion. "Katherine…who?" He asked, his voice laced with a hint of bewilderment. "Seriously?" Katherine scoffed, her voice laced with playful exasperation. "Badass evil vampire from The Vampire Diaries? Elena's doppelgänger? That doesn't ring any bells?" She gestured to her costume dramatically, but Demetri simply shook his head, his expression remaining blank."I'm surprised you didn't dress up as Bella Swan," Eli joked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Katherine playfully elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up," She rolled her eye’s playfully. Then, a mischievous idea sparked in her eyes. "Wait," She drawled, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "Are you implying you'd be my Edward Cullen, Eli?" She smirked, watching as Eli's face immediately flushed a vibrant shade of red. He stammered, unable to form a coherent response, his eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. A few minutes later, Miguel, clad in a simple skeleton costume, joined the group. "Oh, skeleton. Classic. Nice," Demetri muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Thanks," Miguel replied, oblivious to the sarcasm. "I like your sorcerer costume." Katherine and Eli exchanged amused glances, struggling to suppress their laughter at Miguel's earnest attempt at a compliment. "Sorcerer? Please," Demetri retorted, his voice laced with mock indignation. "I'm a necromancer." He puffed out his chest, attempting to project an air of dark mystique. Miguel's face morphed into one of utter confusion. "What?" He asked, his brow furrowed. Demetri pointed down at his chest, where a faux amulet sat. "Didn't you see 'The Amulet'?" He asked, to which Miguel just shook his head.

Miguel, deciding to change the subject, turned towards Eli. "So, are you a regular doctor, or..." he began, gesturing vaguely towards Eli's scrubs. Eli, anticipating the question, cut him off quickly. "Plastic surgeon, I fix lips." He mumbled, his voice barely audible behind the mask he wore on the bottom half of his face. Finally, Miguel turned to Katherine, his eyes widening in recognition. "Let me guess, you're Katherine? From that one show on Netflix?" Katherine nodded, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Finally, someone else got it." She sighed, relieved.

After a awkward pause, the four of them made their way over to the snack table, where a sad assortment of lukewarm punch and stale cookies awaited them. As they finished their drinks, Demetri, his eyes gleaming with a newfound confidence, turned to them. "Okay, are we ready?" Katherine gave him a questioning look. "Ready for what?" She asked, raising a brow. "We’re going to ask the Dragon Queens to dance," Miguel affirmed his voice laced with confidence. The Dragon Queens in question were a group of popular girls dressed in elaborate dragon-themed costumes, were currently holding court near the dance floor.

Demetri shook his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Slow your roll, we got time," He coaxed, his eyes scanning the room. "We need a strategy." As Demetri unveiled his "strategy," two guys, one dressed as a disheveled Doctor Who and the other in a vaguely pirate-esque ensemble, sauntered over to the Dragon Queens and confidently asked them to dance. "No, no," Miguel muttered. "Shit. We just lost one to Doctor Who." He groaned, as Katherine shook her head at the boys' ineptitude. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she grabbed the boys' hands, her grip surprisingly firm, and dragged them towards the crowded dance floor.

"What are we doing?" Demetri questioned, his voice laced with a hint of panic. "Dancing," Katherine declared nonchalantly, her voice cutting through the thumping music. "Since none of you had the nerve to ask anyone, let's just dance together." Miguel shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. "Sounds good to me." He shrugged, already swaying to the beat. Eli, still somewhat hesitant, followed suit. After a few minutes of awkward shuffling and hesitant smiles, even Demetri gave in, a reluctant grin finally breaking through his usual cynicism. Katherine, seeing her plan come to fruition, smiled triumphantly.

However it didn’t last too long. Before long, Eli dropped Katherine’s hand and mumbled a quiet "I have to go to the bathroom," His face slightly flushed. To which suddenly all the boys had to use the restroom. And with that, the three boys scrambled away, leaving Katherine alone on the dance floor. Not bothered, she spotted Samantha’s childhood friend Aisha standing near the edge of the crowd. Deciding to introduce herself, Katherine approached her. "Hi," She smiled politely. "I don't know if you remember me considering it was a long time ago, but-"

"You're Sam's cousin, Katherine, yeah, I remember," Aisha interrupted, mirroring Katherine’s smile. "Welcome back, and super sick costume. I always thought Katherine should’ve ended up with Stefan after watching that episode. Their tension could practically be felt through the screen." Katherine beamed, taking that as her cue to engaged in a conversation about all things The Vampire Diaries when suddenly, their phones buzzed with a text notification. Katherine's smile immediately faltered as she read the cruel, anonymous message displayed on her screen.

She looked up, her eyes meeting Aisha's, and saw the same hurt and humiliation reflected in the other girl's gaze. Aisha mumbled a quick, "Sorry," Her voice trembling slightly, before rushing out of the gym, the sound of cruel laughter echoing behind her. Katherine watched her go, her heart sinking. She looked around and met the eyes of Samantha, who stood frozen between Yasmine and Moon, her face a mask of guilt. Katherine wasted no time, her anger bubbling to the surface. She stormed over to her cousin, her eyes flashing with righteous fury.

“Aisha’s one of your best friends," Katherine emphasized hoping to get her point across. "How could you let them do this to her." She questioned looking back at Yasmine and Moon who seemed to be pretty proud of what they had just done. Samantha looked up from her phone, her eyes wide with guilt. "I-I didn't know, Kat, I-" Katherine held up her hand, silencing her cousin. "Don't bother," She scoffed, her voice cold and final. "I thought you were better than this Sam, but I guess I was wrong," She sighed, watching Samantha's face fall upon hearing the disappointment in Katherine’s words. "I'll see you at home." And with those words, Katherine turned and walked out of the gym, leaving her cousin speechless and consumed by a wave of shame and regret.

thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

[lanietadelatierra]

Yesterday, I felt fear while being at home, a place where I should feel safe. I was sitting on the couch, focused on watching the news on TV, when I noticed that the door, which was locked, was moving. I didn’t react at first. I thought it was the wind, but no, it was someone trying to get in. At that moment, I assumed it was the old man from the apartment below who had mistaken the door. I couldn’t see who it was. Luckily, since it was locked, he couldn’t get in and left. I don’t know why he came up, as it’s not his house. He had no reason to be here. A few hours later, I found out it was the bailiff from the apartment below, who thought the thermos from his apartment was in my house, and that’s why he wanted to get in. What a scare I had yesterday. This made me think the following:

Numidia, 200 A.D.

It was a gray afternoon in that land. Natisha was with her mother in their humble mud-and-straw home, helping her prepare dinner, when suddenly, the serene atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of trumpets from the entrance walls of Numidia. That sound meant the conquerors were arriving, and the women and children had to hide in the shelter, while the men should approach the walls to fight and defend Numidia. Natisha and her mother walked outside. The young girl grabbed a knife and hid it under her dress without her mother noticing. They both ran towards the shelter, which was underground. A dark, damp, and cold place. The shelter wasn’t very large, and it felt claustrophobic inside as more and more women and children squeezed in, desperate and fearful for their lives. The air felt thick, and it was hard to breathe. When no one else was left to enter, an older woman covered the shelter with a thick wooden door. There, they waited for everything to end. From inside, they could hear the screams, the clash of swords, the explosions, and the footsteps. Suddenly, the door that covered the shelter began to move, and voices in Latin were heard, a language the people of Numidia didn’t understand. It was soldiers trying to open it until they succeeded. The women and children inside were frightened by their presence. The general held a papyrus with a pen dipped in ink. Alongside him was a translator, and behind him, some soldiers stood guard. "You will all tell me your names and surnames," said the general in Latin, and the translator translated it. Each woman took turns telling him her name while the general wrote it down on the papyrus. It was Natisha’s turn. The general looked at the young girl from head to toe with a serious expression. "Natisha Macrino," the general wrote. "Do you have anything to do with Marcus Nonius Macrinus, ragazza?" The translator translated this to the young girl. Natisha felt her heart race as the general's gaze felt heavy and intimidating. She was frightened, and her hands trembled slightly. "He is my uncle," the young girl replied in a soft voice. The translator conveyed her response to the general. He seemed surprised. "You are coming with me," the general said. The young girl, terrified, shook her head violently, unable to believe what was happening.

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 5 || Harry Styles x Mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

author's note: I just wanted to come on here and thank everyone who has joined Patreon and also everyone who has started following me on here! thank you so so much! I'll be forever thankful for contributing to my education!

warnings: violence, cursing and more.

masterist of vicious

word count: 2.1K

"He's gone." Federico had essentially abandoned her there. He denied her a place in the car, covertly ordered her bags packed, leaving her feeling betrayed by her own father. She wasn't prepared to move in; the prospect of residing in the unfamiliar manor, with its intricate family dynamics, intimidated her. Y/N sensed the impending challenges of being accepted into the family, particularly given her less-than-amicable start with Harry. Fear gripped her as she contemplated the potential difficulties that lay ahead. "I suppose I'm moving in now."

"Who gave you that order?" Harry's questioning tone cut through the air. The last thing he needed was an unfamiliar presence wandering the estate, potentially stirring up trouble. His distrust of her was palpable—she wasn't part of the family, and in his eyes, that meant she hadn't earned any respect or loyalty.

"My father," Y/N retorted, a hint of annoyance evident in her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to be here. The feeling is mutual. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I'm able to leave."

Harry turned to Charlie, seeking answers. "Where is Lex?" Confusion mirrored on Charlie's face, matching Harry's bewilderment.

"He's downstairs, disposing of some things," Y/N revealed, her eyes rolling in disdain.

"He's taking care of the body downstairs," she added, a subtle revelation conveyed to Harry. His sharp gaze turned towards the Italian woman.

"No one was talking to you. Mind your own fucking business," Charlie snapped at Y/N, an unspoken tension filling the room. Unfazed, Y/N merely shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the hostility directed her way. The stage was set for a collision of personalities within the intricate web of the English mafia.

"Go find Silas," Harry commanded Charlie.

"Where is he?"

"How would I know, Charlie?! Go find him. He is probably doing nothing as always," Harry retorted, his frustration evident. The presence of Y/N in the estate irked him; it meant he had to be more discreet about his activities. Her moving in seemed to symbolize a level of commitment he wasn't ready for.

"Who is Silas?" Y/N inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "Also, can I get a room? Just to leave all of my stuff and shit?"

"Do you know that you ask too many questions?" Harry responded, fingers flying over his phone as he texted Lex, attempting to bring him into his immediate service. There were tasks at hand, and Lex was the only one capable of assisting him.

"You called?" Silas appeared, extricating himself from Charlie's grasp. She had essentially pulled him away from his haven, where he spent his days immersed in books, avoiding the inevitable clashes with Harry.

"Find Y/N a room and keep her out of the way," Harry ordered Silas. The strained atmosphere between the brothers had lingered since their father's funeral, the bitter taste of disappointment for Silas, who felt that Arthur's will had unequivocally favored Harry. Silas turned to glance at Y/N, sizing her up with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

"Who do you think I am? Her fucking babysitter?" Silas spat, disdain dripping from his words. "I've got better things to do than to be at your beck and call." He pivoted on his heel, ready to leave, but Harry had other plans. Something had snapped within him—perhaps it was the insubordination in front of Y/N and his men or the lingering discomfort from Silas's entrance at their father's funeral. Whatever it was, Harry saw red.

Without warning, Harry reached out and seized Silas by the back of his shirt, forcefully bringing him back. A swift punch connected with Silas's nose, and the onslaught continued. The sounds of bones crunching and blood splattering filled the air, and Y/N, horrified, shouted, "STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" Desperation colored her voice as she tried to pull the enraged Harry away from his battered brother.

Y/N surveyed the room, taking in the unsettling sight of men passively observing Harry disfigure Silas's face. A chilling stillness gripped the air; none of them made a move, objected, or attempted to intervene. They knew the unwritten rule: interfering would redirect Harry's wrath onto themselves, and none dared to challenge the boss. The ominous tableau unfolded, a tableau of silent submission.

Harry eventually halted his assault, his knuckles worn and Silas's body limp beneath him. The room bore witness to a scene reminiscent of a crime documentary, with Harry rising from his knees to his feet. Specks of blood adorned the collar and sleeves of his button-down shirt, and his hands were stained, knuckles split open. Unfazed, he pushed his hair back, presenting a picture of calculated violence.

Without a word to Y/N or anyone else, Harry retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. As he walked past Y/N, a cold and sinister look lingered on his face, leaving an indelible impression on the room's atmosphere.

Y/N waited until Harry left the room and knelt beside Silas. His face bore the evidence of the brutal assault—cuts, a fractured nose, bruised and purple skin, busted lip, and injured eyebrows.

“Don’t touch him or move him,” Charlie warned, already dialing his phone.

“He needs help,” she argued, the memories of her father's similar actions resurfacing, though never with such hatred and never directed at his own brother.

“I know,” Charlie nodded, “What do you think I am doing?” Within ten minutes, the medic and nurse living on the grounds arrived. Silas was carefully transferred upstairs. Y/N could only hope he would recover.

Charlie guided her to a room, noticeably smaller and darker than what she was accustomed to.

“I'm sure this will be enough for you,” Charlie stated. “Dinner will be at eight,” he added before leaving the bedroom. The bed, though not as grand as her usual one, boasted a beautiful canopy, casting a shadow over the somber atmosphere of the English manor.

The bedroom held an air of antiquity, its walls adorned with dark, polished wood paneling that seemed to absorb the ambient light. Heavy drapes, drawn tightly shut, further dimmed the space, casting an almost melancholic aura. The canopy over the bed boasted intricate patterns, a testament to craftsmanship from a bygone era. Despite the opulence of the bed, the room's overall atmosphere felt cold and unwelcoming. An ornate vanity mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the somber scene within the room. The furniture, though well-maintained, bore signs of wear, hinting at the passage of time and the weight of secrets held within the walls of the English manor.

Y/N immersed herself in the task of unfolding and hanging the clothes that had been packed for her, all the while dialing her best friend, Giana. Their friendship had withstood the test of time, enduring since the tender age of five. However, Giana now lived in the clutches of an Italian marriage, leaving Y/N feeling the void of her absence.

"Hi," Giana whispered, orchestrating her escape from the bedroom into the bathroom, where the sound of running water provided a disguise for her voice. The last thing Giana needed was to be overheard by her husband, Augusto. “How is everything?”

"My dad basically kicked me out of the house. I am now staying con gli inglesi," Y/N shared, her voice reflecting a mix of frustration and sadness.

"How is Harry treating you?" Giana inquired, sensing an underlying distress in her friend's response. Y/N couldn't hold back tears as she recounted the distressing scene she had just witnessed. "Quello che è successo?" Giana asked, concerned and probing for details.

"He beat his brother almost to death. It was horrible," Y/N admitted between soft sobs. The realization of the kind of man Harry was had unsettled her deeply. "I don’t know if I can take all of this. I want to leave already. Maybe it is time to put our plan in action."

Giana glanced nervously at the locked bathroom door, a barrier between her and the turmoil of her own married life.

"I don’t know, Y/N," she hesitantly responded. "What if we get caught? The repercussions can be worse."

"But what if we succeed, G? What if we can finally get away from all this shit and live a tranquil life, running that little cafe that you have always wanted to open in a very secluded town? Far and far away from our fathers and nightmares?" Y/N proposed, yearning for an escape from the suffocating grip of their current lives.

Before Giana could respond, and while she contemplated her life, the door began to be pounded by Augusto as he screamed for her to come out.

“I- I can’t, Y/N,” she nervously said, attempting to stay focused on their conversation rather than her husband's escalating shouts. “He won’t let me. He'll search until he finds me.”

“We can do it. You deserve a better life, G. Remember how miserably our mothers were and how young they died,” Y/N urged, able to hear the escalating shouts and the incessant banging on the door.

“Bene, but it must happen tonight,” Giana clarified. Her husband had some business to attend to, which only meant that she would have time to devise a plan to escape the premises.

“Okay. Stasera. Call me when you are able,” Y/N finally said before hanging up. The urgency in Giana's situation only fueled their determination to break free from the shackles of their oppressive lives.

She couldn’t wait. Y/N had to leave before dinner. At dinner all the men would be gather and waiting for her appereance. She had to escape before. That was the only way that she wuld have a chance.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing as she contemplated the escape plan. She glanced around the room, looking for any potential obstacles or challenges. The window seemed like her best bet; it was a risk, but she had to take it. The room's dim lighting and heavy drapes provided some cover, and she knew Harry would be too occupied with whatever he had happening to go check on her.

First, she quietly opened the window, praying it wouldn't creak and give her away. The chilly night air swept into the room, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She gathered a few essentials into a small bag – some clothes, her passport, and a bit of money she had managed to save over the years.

Y/N could still hear Harry’s muffled shouts from the other side of the house, giving her a sense of urgency. She looked back at the bed, debating whether to leave a note, but to who? None cared enough for her to want to know.

She experimented with various drapes and bed sheets from her room, carefully easing them down the window. Surveying the scene from her vantage point, she concluded that the space below was empty, ensuring her descent would go unnoticed.

With a quick glance around the room to make sure she had packed all the essentials in her bag, Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage to execute her plan. She wrapped the makeshift rope around her hands, securing it tightly, and then began her descent, cautiously lowering herself from the window.

The night air brushed against her face as she descended, and each inch brought her closer to freedom. The silence of the estate enveloped her, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. The ground neared, and with a soft landing, she released the makeshift rope.

Swiftly making her way to the edge of the property, Y/N took cover in the shadows, avoiding any security cameras or patrolling guards.

Waiting until the echoes of footsteps and voices faded into the night, Y/N swiftly darted into the dense woods. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting an ethereal glow on her determined face. Each step carried her farther away from the imposing estate and the looming fate of an arranged marriage to Harry.

Navigating the shadows and weaving through the trees, Y/N pressed on with a sense of urgency. The forest concealed her movements as she sought a path that would lead her to a road, a lifeline to escape the impending union. The rustling leaves beneath her hurried steps seemed to echo the beats of her racing heart.

In the silence of the woods, Y/N contemplated the enormity of her decision. Yet, the prospect of freedom, away from the suffocating expectations and uncertainties, fueled her resolve. The night air carried both the weight of her familial ties and the promise of a new beginning, and she pressed on, guided by the hope of a life of her own choosing.

Chapter 6

if you'd like to continue reading and have early access to more chapters then I suggest you to visit my patreon!

[need-caffeine-247]

Here with me. (Hyuna x Luka!) AN: Uh…… I think you can recognize my username if u know me from discord ….this if for @kim-deadja BTW!!I dunno if this is exactly what you wanted but I tried.

The sound of laughter filled the area , the gentle atmosphere lulling everyone in the outdoor plaza into a comfortable state as clear champagne glasses clinked together. The music in the background wasn't all that exciting , but it wasn't so droopy either , instead providing as white noise to further soothe everyone´s worries .

In the crowd , a blond man with bright amber eyes was staring at another, the woman talking to another with short pink hair as they chattered along. Love was evident in his eyes as he smiled at the woman beside him , her long chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail reaching her waist as she laughed with joy, the other beside her raising a hand to cover her mouth as she giggled.. The silver ring on the brown haired woman's finger glinted in the yellow light as she gently placed a hand on the back of her companion. .

The golden , glittery eyeliner on her eyelids shined in the glow cast upon them as each individual speck of glitter reflected the light.After she sent off her companion with a cheerful wave, she looked towards the man beside her , an expression of contentment on her face as she smiled at him , the same exact ring she had on , on his ring finger as they stared at each other , their eyes filled with affection towards the other . 

Her eyes softened as she took a step closer , her sleek , silky black dress contrasting with his white dress shirt perfectly, her heels clicking against the pavement . The woman gently trailed a tanned hand over his cheek before gently placing it on his chest, the fabric of his shirt crinkling underneath her palm the slightest bit.

¨Care for a dance Luka?¨ She gave a grin as the light hit her features perfectly , angling her features with a sharp yet soft look , some strands of hair breaking free of the ponytail, framing her face perfectly .

The man gave a gentle smile in return , gently gripping her hand on her chest, his pale skin a stark contrast to her dark , tanned skin . However , they seemed to compliment each other , as if they were meant to be together . 

¨ Of course . How could I refuse you? ¨ Even though the words were scarce , the woman had been with the other long enough to feel the utter adoration he was trying to convey , tilting her head with a gentle smile, her eyes turning into crescents .

΅What a romantic. How did I ever score someone like you?¨ She lets out a gentle laugh , music to the man´s ears as his platinum hair glints in the light cast upon him from the tall lamp behind him .

The woman pulls the man towards the center , a glass of beer held in her other hand as she pulls her lover close , his hand finding hers as their matching rings clinked against the neck of the bottle . Her hair swaying with the force as it flows around the two of them . 

Even though there were plenty of people here , to them , it seemed like they were the only things . 

In all honesty , they were each other's worlds , their souls revolved around each other , always finding each other in each and every life they had . 

The man's eyes crinkled with adoration for the woman in front of him , an uncharacteristic softness to his eyes as he gently swayed with the woman , not minding the cold, dark green glass separating their palms from touching . 

Your presence is enough for me .

The music was mere white noise as they were encased within a soft layer , clearly in their own worlds as they stared lovingly at each other , their ring fingers crossing over each other´s over the bottle of beer , their rings gently clinking together as their fingers slowly closed over the neck of the green bottle as if they couldn't bear to be apart .

The woman's chocolatey brown eyes seemed to melt as she stared at her beloved , a small sigh of contentment escaping her as she looked lovingly at the man in front of her . Her heart clenched at the sheer love she held for her husband, eyes tracing over his face , committing his face to memory as they held hands , moving across the platform. 

They weaved through the crowd , the black heels clicking against the concrete in a rhythmic pattern as the man´s gaze softened . His hand tightened around hers, gently guiding it to wrap around his neck as he placed his around her waist , the other occupied with the beer bottle .

When they circled back to their original position, nothing had changed , except for the fact that they were a bit out of breath , but that was okay . 

Everything was going to be okay if they had each other at their side . 

Gently pressing their foreheads together , the male gently nuzzled his wife´s cheek , the woman giving a gentle laugh at the display of affection , nuzzling him back.

The world faded away from them , only consisting of them as they looked at each other, pure adoration in their eyes . 

Honey yellow eyes look at dark , umber ones .

A hand reached up , gently stroking blonde hair as its owner closed her eyes , the dark skin contrasting with his hair , the strands fluffing up and covering her hand .

He gently held her hand , his fingers closing more securely around hers as he slowly pulled her in closer , their faces nearly touching as he sighed , his eyes closing as he leaned into the other's body . 

The woman smiled, her hand leaving her husband's neck and winding down to gently pat his back , her arm shifting as the beer bottle was lowered , and they finally intertwined their fingers together .

With a deep breath , they lost themselves in each other , comforted by the others embrace and presence , acting as an anchor for each other.

My Love . 

The male looks at the woman .

My Life .

The woman looks back at him .

May you stay with me for the rest of my days .

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

(Drake?)

His aquamarine eyes gleamed coldly in the darkness.

Mitsuki: "Did I say something weird?"

Drake: "Nah, it's probably just the way you see things. I can't understand it, though."

Slightly furrowing his eyebrows, he turned his gaze to the water's surface.

Drake: "For me, betrayal meant death."

Drake: "There was the risk of dying from betraying and the danger of being killed in retaliation for betraying. No matter which side I stand on, death is always close by."

Drake: "I can't read people's hearts no matter what they say, and even if I believe them, you never know when they'll turn on you."

Drake: "I don't have the time or the ability to consider the other person's circumstances."

(There it is again.)

(He easily fits into social circles, but there's still this cold side to him.)

(I guess this is related to his past, after all.)

Drake's tone sounded as if he had cut off his emotions, giving a glimpse of what he must have experienced during his time as a pirate and a soldier.

Drake: "If I betray someone, I do it with the understanding that I may die. If I'm betrayed, I'll chase the other person to the ends of the earth for revenge."

Drake: "If I can't achieve revenge, I'll curse the whole world like a sailor wishing for destruction on an eternal voyage."

(.........)

The smile he wore had a somewhat cynical and pessimistic atmosphere, making me shiver.

(For someone who has lived through battles like him, my way of thinking might seem naive.)

It wasn't just his way of thinking.

Even taking just one aspect like 'betrayal,' it felt like everything about the world he had walked through was different.

(He feels distant.)

(But then again, he might think I still don't understand him.)

Mitsuki: "I chose to believe because I wanted to believe. You're the one who made me want to follow through on that feeling."

Drake: "Me?"

I nodded in response to his questioning gaze.

Mitsuki: "Don't you remember? You invited me on a boat before, just like today, and listened to me."

Mitsuki: "You said that living in a way that goes against my own wishes is the real betrayal."

------------Flashback------------

Drake: "If you're always thinking about those people and sacrificing your desires, you'll miss out on life."

Drake: "In that case, you should choose the path you believe in."

Drake: "In my opinion, living in a way that goes against your own wishes is the real betrayal."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Mitsuki: "When you said that to me, it made me realize that I shouldn't betray my own feelings."

Drake: ".........."

At that time, it was undoubtedly thanks to him that I was able to let go of my negative thoughts and reconsider my own heart.

(His words back then still resonate in my heart.)

After conveying my feelings, he spoke up.

Drake: "You really are a strange woman."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Drake: “I could never trust someone enough to be okay with being betrayed.”

Drake: “And yet, you started to think that way because of my words.”

Mitsuki: "Yeah."

Drake: "I don't get it."

Drake: "Still, I'm amazed by your stubborn kindness."

He said something dismissive, yet he reached out and gently stroked my cheek.

Mitsuki: "Drake?"

Drake: “I don’t know why, but despite your ridiculously naive thinking, I can’t ignore that you secretly feel sad behind that stubborn kindness.”

Mitsuki: ".........."

His touch was so warm and ticklish, and it felt like heat was spreading from there.

(I don’t understand it either.)

(Sometimes I feel so far from you, yet you’re still here for me.)

Understanding him was like trying to catch a wave.

However, the warmth we shared at this moment was undeniably something I could believe in.

After a while, the sound of a bell echoed in the quiet night.

Drake: "We should probably head back soon."

Mitsuki: "Yeah, everyone must be worried."

(Although I want to stay like this a little longer.)

Drake: "Actually, maybe I won't go back."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Drake: "You said something nice, so I kind of wanted to go against it."

Mitsuki: "..........."

Drake: "Kidding, let's quietly leave before the city lights go out."

After exchanging banter, we returned to our usual atmosphere.

Mitsuki: "Thank you again today, Drake. I always end up talking to you about everything."

Drake: "I also talk however I want, so it's a fair trade. Don't worry about it."

He faintly smiled while rowing the boat.

I felt like I was slowly starting to understand him, yet at the same time, I still felt like I didn't understand him at all.

(For example, where does he get that coldness he sometimes shows?)

------------Flashback------------

Drake: "Trust, huh? People can easily betray you. You never really know what someone's thinking deep down."

Drake: "Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine, so you don’t need to worry about it."

Drake: "Real betrayal is much more merciless."

---------Flashback Ends--------

I remembered his words and actions that had been stuck in my mind for a long time.

Mitsuki: "Drake, there's one thing I'd like to ask."

Drake: "Hm?"

Mitsuki: "Have you ever had someone betray you badly?"

Drake: "..........."

Drake: "Well, yeah. Being betrayed and betraying others was just a part of everyday life for pirates."

Despite my bold question, Drake smiled.

However, his gaze momentarily darkened as it wandered across the river's dark surface.

Drake: "But the first memory of betrayal in my life was from my mother."

(His mother?)

Drake: "You see, my mother comes from a somewhat special and prestigious lineage."

Drake: "However, one day, she got pregnant and eloped with a man."

Drake: "With me in tow, my parents traveled from town to town to escape."

Drake: "Life was tough, but they were kind. My mother always looked at me with gentle eyes."

Drake: "But when I wasn't even ten years old, our escape suddenly came to an end."

Drake: "We were captured and brought back by the clan members who were chasing us, and my mother died as a captive."

Drake: "In her final moments, my mother averted her gaze from me and said,"

『 I should never have given birth to you. 』

Mitsuki: "She seemed like a kind mother, so why would she say that at the end?"

Drake: "Who knows? Maybe she couldn't take it anymore."

Drake: "Because I was born, she became a disgrace to the clan and was hunted down."

He shrugged his shoulders and let out a bitter laugh.

Mitsuki: "What happened to you after that?"

Drake: "I managed to escape on my own, but when I finally found my father, he already had a new family."

Drake: "I had nowhere to go, so I resorted to committing petty crimes to get by."

When he met Karen, he mentioned doing similar things around that time.

Drake: "One day, I sneaked onto a ship, only to find out it was a pirate ship."

Drake: "Instead of being thrown out, the captain took me in, and the rest, as you can imagine, is a tale of piracy."

Drake: "After I got my own ship, I began receiving missions from the Queen."

His words abruptly cut off in the middle of the conversation.

Mitsuki: "Drake? Sorry. If you don't feel like talking about it..."

Drake: "No, it's not that. I just had trouble recalling things I'd almost forgotten."

Drake: "Well, it just means I've gotten used to betrayal with this kind of upbringing."

He spoke nonchalantly, but deep inside, his heart must've been wounded when his mother told him that he should never have been born.

(That was his first experience of betrayal.)

(But did his mother truly feel that way?)

(She went through so much, even running away, just to give birth to the child of the person she loved.)

I suppressed the questions that arose in my mind.

It would be too optimistic and irresponsible to say that there might have been reasons behind his mother's words based solely on fragments of the story I heard.

Because I can't truly know the truth inside someone's heart.

(But...)

------------Flashback------------

Mitsuki: "I wonder if that girl has a family."

Drake: "Even if she does, having a blood connection doesn't necessarily make them a good family."

Drake: "I don't have a place to miss or a place to return to."

Drake: "I'm fine with being a flying Dutchman."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Drake's somewhat lonely mutterings crossed my mind.

(There is a deep and cold sea in his clear eyes.)

(Even if our ways of thinking are different, even if he says he can't understand...)

(Can I, even just a little, be there for him like he was for me during tough times?)

With these thoughts welling up, something natural slipped out of my lips.

Mitsuki: "Hey, Drake..."

Drake: "Hm?"

Mitsuki: "You might think that people can betray others, but no matter what, I won't betray you."

Drake: ".........."

Mitsuki: "I won't break promises or push you away. I promise."

Mitsuki: "So please try to believe in me."

Under the twinkling stars, I gazed at him sincerely.

He, in turn, stared at me as if trying to expose my heart.

Drake: "Mitsuki."

Drake: "Even if I were a villain trying to deceive you, would you still not betray me?"

(Villain?)

I couldn't imagine him deceiving me like that, but...

Mitsuki: "I won't betray you. I don't want to betray you."

(Having someone trustworthy will surely be a support.)

(I want him to have that kind of support, even though he has lived through betrayal.)

As I waited for his next words, only the sound of the rippling water filled our surroundings.

Then...

Drake: "Ha...ha...ahahaha!"

Mitsuki: "Drake?"

For some reason, he burst out laughing.

Drake: "No, sorry. Different people asked me to believe in them, but they all had excuses or were begging for their lives."

Drake: "You're the first one to ask me to believe without any benefit for yourself."

After laughing for a while, Drake gently placed his hand on my head.

Drake: "Well, if you put it that way, I'll try believing in you."

Drake: "You won't betray me, and I'll believe in you. It's our promise."

Drake: "Like a pirate's code."

Mitsuki: "Okay! I promise."

A special connection formed between us, and a smile naturally spread across our faces.

Later, when we returned to the mansion, I visited his room before going to sleep.

Drake: "What's up, lil' fawn?"

Mitsuki: "I wanted to give you something as a thank-you."

Mitsuki: "Will you accept this?"

What I handed him was:

Drake: "A shell bottle?"

It was a small empty bottle I got from the kitchen, filled with sand and seashells I found in a miscellaneous store. Looking through the bluish glass, it resembled the ocean.

Mitsuki: "You love the sea, right? Paris doesn't have one, so I made this so you can feel the ocean as much as possible."

Drake: "Heh. It's beautiful."

Mitsuki: "The sand inside is called star sand and sun sand. They say having it grants wishes."

Even if I don't know why he came back to life, I secretly hope that his wishes will be fulfilled.

Drake: "A sea in the palm of my hand. Nice."

Drake: "I'll treasure it. Thanks, Mitsuki."

(I'm glad he liked it.)

In response to Drake's smile, I nodded with a content heart.

Alone in his room, Drake threw himself onto the bed, playing with the shell bottle Mitsuki gave him in his hands.

With every tilt, the sand and seashells swayed inside, creating a sound akin to the rustle of gentle waves.

Drake: "Give believing a shot, huh?"

Drake: "Those words suit me the least."

Was Drake's sarcastic smile directed at Mitsuki or himself?

Outside the window, a crescent moon was floating, just one step away from being a full moon.

Previous Part╎Masterlist╎Side Story 2

[annabtg]

8, 9, 11, 15, 17, 18, 20, 21, 23, 30 :) 💜

Oooh, thank you for the extensive list, jayne!! 💜💜

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

A few fics could fit this bill but the top place goes to Verses Written In '74. I've had the skeleton of the concept in my head since I finished writing My Best Friend's Girl (the fic that probably takes all-time top place in 'meant the most to me') and it was wonderful to actually put it into words. Also, I hadn't written Sirius/Lily in a while and I have a soft spot for them - I had to! And lastly, it makes use of one of my favourite songs ever. ❤️

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

The Big Little Moments. Not that it didn't give me trouble at some point, but overall it was so fluffy and I was so happy with my writing in it and I got to fit all the late 70s headcanons I wanted in it so :D

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Perhaps counterintuitively, Verses Written In '74. It's a setup not many people, um, agree with, so I had to set it up properly, make it read independently from MBFG (Idk why I just didn't want it to be a sequel??) get the characterizations right, and do all that without destroying the atmosphere that I wanted it to convey. The smut was the easiest part. :p

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

The Three-Minute Initiative was the only one that gave me real trouble! And I wasn't sure about the title even after posting it - though I admit it sounds catchy!

17. Share your favourite opening line.

Going through my fics, I realize that my opening line is usually a statement, and the good part comes right after. xD I'd say that the first line from Drunk With Power is a fun one!

“Sit up straight, Evans.”

18. Share your favourite ending line.

Hah, ending lines are much more my strength! I'll go with the last line of crawl home, which was different in the first draft but I had it in my mind that it had to end with a sentence similar to the one we see here and I was very pleased with myself when I got it right:

There was nothing to fear — he was already dead. And nothing else to do but clamber out of that wretched grave, face the right side of the earth again, and crawl home.

20. Share your funniest line.

Have I even written anything funny this year? Lol 😅 Probably this exchange from Drunk With Power:

“You have to set a good example.” His wand tip presses harder into her back – it doesn’t hurt, it’s just annoying enough to keep her head up. “Correct posture is very important when you’re reading. You don’t want to get back pain.” “I do have a pain in my back, as it happens.”

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

Well - Anemoia was supposed to be a Jily fic from Harry's POV, but it ended up becoming a Harry-mourning-Sirius fic with some Hinny. I'm not too upset about it. xD

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Sadly, I don't think I had THE moment. Writing Fixed Luck might be a good candidate, because when I started working on it I hadn't written anything in exactly two months and was already questioning whether I'd be able to ever write again at all.

30. What would you like to write next year?

I want to finish my Ironmaster AU!! AAAAAAH I was on such a roll with it until I got stuck in my own head about the worldbuilding etc. and now the words aren't wording at all. I need to restart my brain somehow. Hopefully once this stupid cold goes away I'll be able to focus better!

2024 in review questions here!

[unovanhunny]

Feel free to ignore if you'd prefer a non-religious holiday, but what about a sweet christmasy plot thing? Like imagine a quick moment that's like a quiet character study of Emmet. He takes a break from the heists and crime around the holiday because even HE doesnt believe in ruining christmas for some poor sod. However, he doesnt really have a family to spend the holiday wit so he's left to just sorta wander around the city or something.

It was cold that night, near the end of the year, but far from dark. The lights lit up every display window with the promise of festive warmth. Though the holiday meant little to Emmet, usually seeing Elesa for a quick visit but otherwise not having any plans, he loved the atmosphere that would take over. It made him feel just a little less lonely.

As kids, he and his friends would snatch little trinkets while people were too busy shopping to notice and would share the spoils. That was the closest thing to a Christmas he would have. Not exactly a tradition that worked now as an adult.

He could hear the music blaring from the speakers placed along the main street, quieter from just the next block over. He had heard those songs all his life and there was a bitter nostalgia there. Enough to keep him from walking the Main street. The music made him think of things he never had and may possibly never have, and it was a sore spot as a kid. Now, he had made his peace, but he still remembered the feeling of lost hope. But though the music was the backdrop for the early evening, that wasn't his focus.

The chatter of people was what he was here for. The chatter of people was comforting. Families doing last minute shopping before the Eve hit, groups of friends heading to and from shops, couples getting dates in before the holiday Really began. It was like he could get lost in the elevated mood and not have to wonder if he would ever have something like this himself. It was isolating and lonely, but it was better being lonely surrounded by others than while being locked away in his empty apartment with just him and his parrot.

"Emmet!"

His heart stopped at the cheery voice calling his name and it took him a moment to remember. That was the name he gave Ingo, but Ingo knew it only for his civilian persona. Pulling a mask onto his face quickly and tugging his hat down more firmly, he turned to see the detective he spent more of his days playing cat and mouse with.

"Hello, Detective. Merry Christmas. Are you getting last minute presents?"

Ingo's smile may have been subtle, but his eyes were shining with a cheerful light that made it more than obvious. Emmet felt a flutter in his chest he tried to push down.

"I, well, yes. Honestly, I was wondering how I was going to give this to you, but I guess it must be a Christmas miracle!" And as he spoke, he reached into the back he was carrying to pull out a small gift bag. "I wasn't quite sure what you would like, but I hope this can convey my appreciation for you!"

Staring at the outheld bag for a long moment, Emmet finally took it with a hesitant hand.

"Are... You sure? You really did not have to give me anything. I-I do not have anything for you in return. If anything, I should be showing you appreciation!"

Ingo's laugh was loud but sweet, his eyes still bright. "I'm sure! And you don't need to get me anything, it's not an obligation. I appreciate having someone I can talk to, and I wanted you to feel that appreciation."

Emmet nodded slowly. "Well... I am glad to be that for you. And I will continue to be someone you can talk to. I will find some way to repay you, though, mark my words."

"Then I look forward to it! I'm sorry if I interrupted you, I couldn't pass up the chance. I do need to be going though. Merry Christmas!"

"Be on your way, then. Merry Christmas. And thank you."

-

At home once again, Emmet stared at the gift bag after placing it on the kitchen table. For some reason, he was nervous. A deep breath and he pried the bag open, careful to not rip the bag as he removed the staple's grip. He stuck his hand into the festive white and red tissue paper to pull out two things. A bag of peppermint bark and a frosted glass figure of a train. It was so thoughtful, Emmet thought he might cry. He did let out a little laugh under his breath as he unwrapped the bark to break off a piece and pop it into his mouth.

Now he would have to find something sweet and thoughtful like this for Ingo. And find a way to get it to him that wasn't simply dropping it off on his doorstep as usual. He would have to think on it. Definitely before New Years.

"I will have to wish him a Happy New Year in person."

[kinematografiayevsyd]

Creative Exercise No.2

In this project, I took up the role of the production designer and Ross was the DoP. It was challenging but good practice. I tried to approach every mood with clarity and simplicity, not oversaturating the designs with excessive detail.

Floor plan

What the space looks like normally

Grief. I aimed to convey solemn sickly post-funeral atmosphere. In the botom left corner there is a box with what is suposed to be the belongings of the deceased - a satchel, a porcelain figurine, a book, etc. There is a Crucifixion icon on the wall, symbolising death. You can also see a mirror half-covered with a cloth (in Orthodox Christianity it is traditional to cover all mirrors when somebody died in the household). In the mirror you can see reflected a grieving male figure. The colours are quite cold and grayish with occasional small specs of colour on the icon. My approach was to tell a story with a degree of ambiguity.

Gloom. Here the production design is really minimalistic and the atmosphere is mostly conveyed through lighting. Nehative spaces give off a feeling of mystery and liminality. The same applies to a contorted hand grasping the door and the smightly visible outline of the figure to which the hand belongs. The greenish-yellow colour pallette creates the unsettling sickly and slightly horror-like feel.

Romance. This shot is meant to show the interior of a romantic date. The signifiers of this are a candle and two wine glasses, one of them stained with bright red lipstic. There is also a leather jacket casually hung on the door. The colours are warm and inviting.

Nostalgia. Here I filled the shelves with as many antique-looking objects as I could and covered them in fake cobweb, trying to achieve a sense of forgottenness. Shooting through the doorframe helped us achieve the feeling of entering a different long-forgotten but preserved world.

Claustraphobia. This extremely simplistic priduction design hints at a story of somebody being trapped in a liminal empty space like a mental institution. The piece of paper has characteristic lines which somebody draws when they are trapped and counting days.

[writelikeyoubreathe]

Autumnal Melancholy

As autumn unfurls its vibrant tapestry of reds, oranges, and browns, it often evokes a sense of melancholy. The leaves fall like russet tears, marking the transition from the lushness of summer to the stillness of winter. This season, rich in symbolism, is a recurring motif in art and literature, representing transition, decay, and loss. Autumn forces us to confront the inevitability of change, reminding us that we are but a small part of the greater natural world and to bear witness to the death that follows the vibrant life of spring. While we may now associate this season with cosy sweaters, hot drinks, and crackling fires, its underlying melancholy lingers in the crisp air, serving as a memento mori. For those grappling with their own grief and loss, autumn poses unique challenges, compelling us to seek solace in a world that forces us to confront these harsh realities.

In literature, autumn is frequently portrayed as the twilight of the year, a liminal space between the vitality of spring and the bitter winter cold. Notably, this is illustrated in W.B. Yeats’ poem, The Wild Swans at Coole. He pairs the image of the trees’ ‘autumn beauty’ with the ‘twilight’ setting to demonstrate this cyclical and transient nature of life, imbuing the scene with a sense of stasis, reflection, and tranquility as the speaker contemplates ephemeral human existence with the ineffable immortality of nature. This evokes a part of grief that I had never considered before I had experienced it: our loved ones who pass away are frozen in time like a pressed flower, never to bloom again in the spring, while we are meant to continue to grow. At first, I felt indignant and outraged at the unfairness of it all. How am I supposed to continue without them? How can the world keep turning or the seasons keep changing without our departed loved ones here to witness it?

As someone who has a history of mental illness, it feels cruel that someone so precious, beautiful, and ready for life should be taken away so soon. A bright light was extinguished. Whereas someone like me, flickering and dim, continues to burn. It's not fair. I've always known it's not fair; the guilt tastes like ash in my mouth. Throughout Yeats’ poem, the speaker focuses on these swans’ stasis throughout the years despite this change. They remain a collective mass that implies a monolithic unity, creating an illusion of immortality. This image is a microcosm of the enduring vitality of nature. We, too, will one day enter the winter of our lives, fall to the ground, and bring new life to the soil, much like autumn leaves. It comforts me to apply the permanence of the swans to ourselves. Through the lens of Yeats’ poem, we can interpret this season as a reminder of the human condition, not just as individuals who cannot be resurrected and become lost to the ravages of time, but as integral parts of the regenerative whole of nature, forming a larger community that creates new life as it witnesses death.

Another one of my favourite expressions of autumn is found in Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm (Number 30, 1950). He employs a dripping technique in which paint is splattered, flung, and pooled onto the canvas to create an expressionist, non-representative explosion. The arches, curves, overlapping colours, and frenetic peaks of colour vividly illustrate the boundless nature of existence, its continuous flow without a clear beginning or end. Both the melancholic atmosphere conveyed by the dark colours and the chaos of this tempestuous expression reflects an internal turmoil and emotional turbulence, as well as the larger mutability of nature . The all-consuming contrast between the black and white paint conveys a liminality, changeability, and duality within autumn - the bountiful harvests and the withering trees, the transition from summer to winter. The lack of typical autumnal imagery is striking as Pollock encapsulates a visceral feeling, a power beyond the individual, he illustrates the greater cycle of life just like Yeats’ swans. 

There’s a promise of change that lies beyond autumnal decay, one that promises more than ornate carpets of leaves and petals of breath that bloom in the air. The words of F. Scott Fitzgerald come to mind: "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Perhaps in this lies a possible comfort to find in this autumn. It serves as a poignant reminder of our place within the vast universe.

[fckmini]

Autumnal Melancholy

As autumn unfurls its vibrant tapestry of reds, oranges, and browns, it often evokes a sense of melancholy. The leaves fall like russet tears, marking the transition from the lushness of summer to the stillness of winter. This season, rich in symbolism, is a recurring motif in art and literature, representing transition, decay, and loss. Autumn forces us to confront the inevitability of change, reminding us that we are but a small part of the greater natural world and to bear witness to the death that follows the vibrant life of spring. While we may now associate this season with cosy sweaters, hot drinks, and crackling fires, its underlying melancholy lingers in the crisp air, serving as a memento mori. For those grappling with their own grief and loss, autumn poses unique challenges, compelling us to seek solace in a world that forces us to confront these harsh realities.

In literature, autumn is frequently portrayed as the twilight of the year, a liminal space between the vitality of spring and the bitter winter cold. Notably, this is illustrated in W.B. Yeats’ poem, The Wild Swans at Coole. He pairs the image of the trees’ ‘autumn beauty’ with the ‘twilight’ setting to demonstrate this cyclical and transient nature of life, imbuing the scene with a sense of stasis, reflection, and tranquility as the speaker contemplates ephemeral human existence with the ineffable immortality of nature. This evokes a part of grief that I had never considered before I had experienced it: our loved ones who pass away are frozen in time like a pressed flower, never to bloom again in the spring, while we are meant to continue to grow. At first, I felt indignant and outraged at the unfairness of it all. How am I supposed to continue without them? How can the world keep turning or the seasons keep changing without our departed loved ones here to witness it?

As someone who has a history of mental illness, it feels cruel that someone so precious, beautiful, and ready for life should be taken away so soon. A bright light was extinguished. Whereas someone like me, flickering and dim, continues to burn. It's not fair. I've always known it's not fair; the guilt tastes like ash in my mouth. Throughout Yeats’ poem, the speaker focuses on these swans’ stasis throughout the years despite this change. They remain a collective mass that implies a monolithic unity, creating an illusion of immortality. This image is a microcosm of the enduring vitality of nature. We, too, will one day enter the winter of our lives, fall to the ground, and bring new life to the soil, much like autumn leaves. It comforts me to apply the permanence of the swans to ourselves. Through the lens of Yeats’ poem, we can interpret this season as a reminder of the human condition, not just as individuals who cannot be resurrected and become lost to the ravages of time, but as integral parts of the regenerative whole of nature, forming a larger community that creates new life as it witnesses death.

Another one of my favourite expressions of autumn is found in Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm (Number 30, 1950). He employs a dripping technique in which paint is splattered, flung, and pooled onto the canvas to create an expressionist, non-representative explosion. The arches, curves, overlapping colours, and frenetic peaks of colour vividly illustrate the boundless nature of existence, its continuous flow without a clear beginning or end. Both the melancholic atmosphere conveyed by the dark colours and the chaos of this tempestuous expression reflects an internal turmoil and emotional turbulence, as well as the larger mutability of nature . The all-consuming contrast between the black and white paint conveys a liminality, changeability, and duality within autumn - the bountiful harvests and the withering trees, the transition from summer to winter. The lack of typical autumnal imagery is striking as Pollock encapsulates a visceral feeling, a power beyond the individual, he illustrates the greater cycle of life just like Yeats’ swans. 

There’s a promise of change that lies beyond autumnal decay, one that promises more than ornate carpets of leaves and petals of breath that bloom in the air. The words of F. Scott Fitzgerald come to mind: "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Perhaps in this lies a possible comfort to find in this autumn. It serves as a poignant reminder of our place within the vast universe.

[paqoe]

Congregation (review!!!)

i believe this is the best extreme in the game in just about every way, and i don't see it being dethroned any time soon.

starting with the song choice: i think this is the best song in any extreme demon by a pretty large margin. Koraii is extremely talented (albeit not a good person), and this is one of his best pieces by far. i don't think Congregation would have anywhere near the same impact if Presta chose any other song.

every single detail feels meticulously thought out, and there genuinely isn't anything i would change in the level (other than the line coloring in the cube portion of the drop).

the choice in color palette is (generally) phenomenal, and the way Presta weaves in slightly more and more variation and detail as the predrop develops is perfect. i know people think the predrop is boring, but i honestly couldn't disagree less (and it doesn't matter much to me how it plays in the first place). i think part of what makes the predrop work so well is how long it lasts!

although the drop is definitely weaker in terms of visuals (especially colors), the way in which the movements are choreographed is almost mesmerizing. despite being quite repetitive in nature, presta somehow manages to keep the drop fresh from start to finish.

i've heard some people criticize how similar the ending is to the predrop, but i feel that the level tends itself to the direction of the last cube quite well considering how much the sense of progression is reliant on the song developing over time.

what truly sets congregation apart from other levels for me, though, is how it manages to create such powerful environmental theming with so little.

as an aside, i think "environmental theming" is a good way to refer to level theming that you can place yourself in. it's extremely uncommon for a level to properly pull it off with an abstract setting -- the best example i can think of is "reviens" by vrymer -- but levels that pull it off are among my favorites. extending the concept to other games, it's part of what makes undertale so appealing for me -- i absolutely love how easy it is to put yourself in the protag's shoes and imagine you are actually traversing these abstract environments. i've never seen another game pull it off so well, and it's why i don't think Deltarune will ever have the same effect on me as Undertale.

what Congregation, Reviens, and Undertale all have in common, and a HUGE part of what makes them work, is that they all force you to imagine yourself in a place that has no proper real-world parallels. whereas games like Omori and & levels like Night Rider and Black Flag fill in the blanks for you and don't leave much of the setting up to interpretation, the more abstract previously-mentioned media force you to construct these settings entirely differently -- much more is left up to your interpretation, as they're more focused on eliciting a specific mood or atmosphere than painting a clear picture.

some people may criticize Congregation for being too empty, but i feel like that's exactly what the level's environment is. i know that is am definitely assigning meaning to something that has none here, but when i try to construct the environment the level creates, i imagine an endless void, inhabited only by the pillars and platforms seen in the level. led by only the illuminated blue accent lights, you are the only living being in this world. one feeling in particular stands out to me in this cold, lifeless setting i've described: isolation.

it's important to note that due to the abstractness of the level, this interpretation is not laid out for you at all. i completely understand that this meaning i've assigned is personal only to me and is swayed by my experiences, but this post is meant to convey my opinions on the level, and i'm not going to change the way i see the level to write a "better review".

there are other levels that have made me feel certain emotions (SAVE AS comes to mind, obviously), but Congregation's usage of environmental theming (for me) to elicit those emotions is truly phenomenal work on Presta's part.

i'm aware that everything I've said here can be summed up by the phrase "it has atmosphere", but i feel like i'd be doing the level a disservice by chalking it up to that.

9.9/10

[hoodhookage]

Congrats on 200+!!!! Ive only just seen your page and i am instantly in love with your writing 😢😢🙏 feel free to ignore this but could you do a scenario about xiao giving is super shy fem s/o oral for the first time. Just some fluffy reassurance is all that we need. If you dont feel comfortable tho i completely understand. Hope you have a fantastic rest of your day 🤗🤗

thank you so much💗 I COULD NEVER PASS UP THIS SORT OF OPPORTUNITY! i’m so grateful you wanted me to even attempt to try this out for you<3 i hope it’s not too long & that i met your expectations!! here’s xiao eating out his so for the first time

xiao let’s his fingers run through your hair, gentle eyes focused on you as you lay beside him fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. you close your eyes when he lifts his hand now to your jaw, stroking your cheek. his touch is soft, instinctively allowing yourself to melt into his caress. xiao is many things; he’s everything you want him to be. he’s willing to make you happy and comfortable, going far lengths to achieve it.

he’s understanding and caring, in the sense that he’s always keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re never in any sort of discomfort. xiao is loving. physical or not, you always feel so appreciated by him. he does little things to make you happy, you remember how he likes to squeeze your thumb with his when you hold his hand. you both have come so far with one another, growing with every passing day.

xiao loves you in every way imaginable, getting frustrated with himself when he can’t truly show you what you mean to him when his words alone fail him. he wants you to be happy, to tell you he values your company, just being able to be with you. he appreciates you and wants to be able to take care of you the way you do for him, feeling as if he’s entirely at your mercy for the way you’ve patched that sense of longing he once felt on his own. all of that now washed away completely when you’ve brought yourself into the picture.

his presence alone makes you feel so jittery, no matter how serene or still the atmosphere may be. he’s gentle, and warm…so warm you sometimes feel as if you’re burning up at his touch, no matter how light it is. you find yourself drawn quiet even while with xiao next to you, letting your mind entertain frivolous possibilities revolving the both of you. what he makes you feel is a mix of apprehensiveness and exhilaration, just with his face leaning in to your forehead close to place a kiss.

the faint breeze from the window lingers inside and you welcome it with a deep inhale, letting it bring you back to your place between xiao and his bed. your exhale quickly allows itself to take over you, shuddering in reaction to the coolness continuously hitting your skin all over. xiao rests his lips against your forehead, another small and delicate show of affection. “you’re getting cold” responding with a sigh to how he acknowledges your change in body temperature before turning over to face him and let your chest rest against his.

even the air xiao expires so softly across you from the closeness of the both of you is warm. his chest is warm, the arms that keep you close are warm, he’s already letting you get lost in this feeling of heat he provides you with. “xiao” your face is in his shoulder when you call him, snuggling closer. he whispers your name back and begins to hold you closer “what is it?”

you try to conceal the small shake in your voice. “you make me feel really, really, warm when we’re like this”

you mumble, already wanting to hide the show of emotions he makes you feel inside so unexpectedly just from the call of your name. you breathe in, smelling xiao and his clothes as one together. “are you saying that like it’s a good thing?” he rubs delicate circles on your back, holding you with care. you nod and push your face closer into his chest almost like a final attempt to breathe him in again, he overwhelms your physical senses this way.

he pulls you back, a stern look on his face as you look up at him. “you’re nearly freezing” xiao rolls his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips as he brings his hand to your jaw to give you a small kiss. he breaks it but stays just inches away from your lips, giving you a teasing remark when you just stare at his mouth. xiao does a lot of things to you…and right now, whatever it is he’s doing to you to make you feel like this, it has you hot all over again:

this burning sensation reaching all the way into your chest and stomach, impossible to avoid. he takes you close and into another kiss as you pout, this time longer than the first. you close your eyes and let him take charge, your cheeks beginning to feel that same sensation that spread through your body when he slowly slides his tongue inside. you cup his face, gasping when he gives you a playful bite to your bottom lip before tugging on it.

“i can’t stand it when you lie to me, here” he begins to remove his arms from the sleeves and slides his hoodie off from above, his shirt getting caught with it momentarily. it’s hard to look away when you can see the bare skin of his abdomen, making you grow a little desperate for his touch. xiao motions for you to lift your arms up and you do as he asks, putting your head through to now properly wear it.

you turn your head to the side and look down at your hands, “thanks” all of these different kinds of warmths feel good when they’re from xiao. you start to wonder if he’s ever experienced this same kind of feeling. you both have that look in your eyes that tells the other you want more, stuck as if there’s no possible way to convey it aloud. all those thoughts leave your mind as soon as he pulls you in for another kiss.

you tremble into his mouth when his hand rests at your hip, giving an experimental grab as you pant and try to kiss him back just as needfully. “xiao, i think what i meant to say, from before. it was just-“ you interrupt the silence but he shushes you. “you’re alright,” he gives you a tiny kiss at your bottom lip. you think you understand now, “…you want me to take care of you, i can do that for you” stopping between sentences to give you more, this time across your face and jaw. “-but will you let me?”

he does experience that same feeling, your heart is beating twice as fast. “please”

xiao treats you with the same amount of gentleness as always, starting by taking a pillow from under his head and propping it beneath your lower back. he looks at you, “i want to try something for you- and i as well” his hand moving to lace yours. “i’ll always ask this of you, do you trust me?” you nod and let out a shaky yes. he begins after hearing your approval “alright, show me exactly where you want me the most”

you feel your body quiver as he trails his hand across your stomach, your fingers guiding his palm. you feel embarrassed when you have to stop, recollecting yourself as he looks at you. “you pleaded for me to take good care of you. i promise i want nothing more than to be able to” he reassures you. you continue until you reach your abdomen, xiao’s hand slides down a little further on his own now. “good” he sighs, getting worked up himself.

“ remove this for me” he murmurs referring to your clothes, tone still sweet when speaking with you. you start with the bottoms, pulling them down off your legs. you keep your panties on, knowing xiao will be happy to do the honours of stripping those off you himself. you hold onto the hoodie “xiao, i want to keep this on” you whisper. he would never deny you anything, but hearing you ask to keep something of his on during a moment like this has his chest swell with pride.

xiao’s hand rests at the hem of your panties, letting his middle and ring finger stretch out just a little further onto the material that starts to dampen the farther you reach. “to think you would want to let me leave you in this state” he almost whispers to himself. he lets his hand dip into your underwear, his fingers immediately met with how wet you’ve become. “your body knows exactly who it’s with right now and i can already tell” he marvels in the little to no friction his finger tips experience as he slides hands over your cunt.

“close your eyes, just let me” he strokes your hair again as he lets his finger trail around your entrance. you gasp at the feeling but it’s slow, allowing you to await and prepare for the feeling of when he enters. the push is perfect, your soaking cunt pulls his finger in with no resistance. he praises you again for how you take it, letting you relax under his touch once more. xiao pulls his finger out back to your entrance, rubbing at your clit with two of them. the contact making you squirm as he lifts his hand.

he brings his finger up to both of you before opening his mouth to clean it off. he can’t help himself when it comes to you, always wanting a little more. you feel yourself pool even harder between your legs at his action. he holds his finger out to you, “would you want to try yourself?” opening your mouth to meet him. you can still taste yourself on that finger, it’s tarte even after xiao had licked most of it off.

“do you still want to follow through with what i had in mind this time for us” he rasps. he’s only ever fingered you, and the thought of letting him try whatever it is he wanted to right now makes you feel weak. your knees instinctively press together as he waits for your answer, “you want to go…further?” your voice is unsure but still with excitement in your tone. he wants to go as far as you’ll let him, indulge you in whatever it is you want from him right now. but he has to start slow, somewhere. it’s progress.

he wants to ask again to reassure you but you’re past that, kissing him as you’re caught in a tiny adrenaline run he’s been unaware he was fuelling this whole time. all this time he’s been feeding into the fire, but this was a tiny bit of gasoline, and it’s beginning to spread. you know it’ll wear down once he begins again but you want to ride it out as long as possible.

he’s always happy when you are, but now was your turn to embarrass xiao, catching him off guard. “can we?” you try to sit up but he keeps you in place, laying you down. “as long as you want this as much as i do” he gets up from beside you, knees against yours as he holds your thighs. his hands look so much bigger from where he’s moved now, you give him another nod and he holds your panties to finally remove them.

you’re back in your original place; being naked from the bottom down right infront of xiao makes you feel unnerved. you let him slowly spread your legs as he continues to hold eye contact with you to keep you calm. he looks more enamoured by your cunt now than ever, situating himself so that his face is right above your clit, arms weighted on your thighs.

his hands come to lock yours on your sides as his you feel his hot breath, making you clench on the air. “relax, close your eyes if you need to, but i’m right here…exactly where you need me” you let your eyes close before your lips part at the feeling of xiao’s tongue swipe across you. it makes you shiver, his tongue feels long and warm, almost a bit pointy. wet like the rest of his mouth, you’re already gasping again at the feeling.

you bring your head up to look at him, xiao has his tongue running along your folds ever so slowly, eyes never leaving yours. you let the back of your head hit the pillows again as you let out a cry, his tongue is hot when it circles around your entrance. you pull the hoodie up on you in an attempt to hold your thoughts together, only to breathe in and be reminded of who’s conquering every piece of your mind, xiao. you grip his hands a little tighter while you buck into his mouth.

allowing yourself to succumb to him has you thrashing when he sucks on your clit. how he prods his tongue towards your hole to make you squirm. xiao is slowly beginning to devour you; lapping, licking, sucking, darting his tongue onto you. he lets go of one of your hands and lets a finger slide in, “i know what your body can handle, and right now it’s beginning to ask for more. i promise to only give what i know you can take” focusing his concentration and movements back on your clit.

cries and whimpers of his name fill and go beyond his room, letting yourself continue to get lost in the pleasure xiao is bringing you so intensely. the curling of his finger now turning into pumping, his mouth never leaving your messy cunt. “good, it’s really good xiao” you whine, gripping his hair as he moans into you. “i cant-“ you thrash at the feeling of him pull at your clit. “you’re perfect like this right now, finally experiencing the sort of pleasure you always bring me” he leans back down, rocking you against his mouth.

every single shock he manages to send through you has you enjoying it more than the last. it feels good, how he constantly lets you know he’ll give you what’s good for you within your limits. you feel your body course with the kind of build up that has you struggling to stay still, the kind xiao knows how to give you regularly just in other ways. this one is far more intense than the last.

you let out a broken moan of his name, trying to find the words to tell him. you properly call out his name and he looks up at you, both his hair and mouth messy from how you held onto him. “i’m going to cum” you squeak, feeling his fingers rub your gspot. your body cant hang on any longer, as if you’re on the edge. “cum for me, right here against me. i’ve got you” you shake your head furiously.

your back arches off the bed and against xiao, whos still giving you every kind of sensation imaginable and all at once. he feels you squeeze his fingers, convulsing against his mouth.

your back hits the bed as your legs still shake around his head, in complete shock at what he was able to bring you. he can feel you still pulse against his mouth and he slowly pulls off. you both stay still as he lets you calm down. he stares at you in awe, panting from his actions.

he moves back to his side on the bed and embraces you, feeling your body go limp against his. his chin rests on the top of your head as he pulls you into the covers properly. you let his forehead lean onto yours as you move away and cup his cheek, catching xiao shyly turn his gaze away.

you’re right. xiao loves you in every way imaginable, willing to go far lengths to prove it.

frustrated when even he himself has trouble to explain how he feels in just words.

a feeling that he can only describe as gentle and warm…warm enough to feel as if he’s burning up at your touch. no matter how light.

just like he does to you.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - Your son isn’t cute at all

Original title: 儿子一点都不可爱

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

You’re certain that the strength of Victor’s genes resulted in that little guy at home being an exact replica of him. Even Victor can’t deny that your son resembles him greatly in terms of appearance.

However, this doesn’t mean he acknowledges the resemblance of their personalities. At the very least, he feels that he wasn’t as studious during his childhood years.

Furthermore, Victor has half-jokingly pointed out that your son’s dislike for exercise is exactly the same as his mother’s.

“Victor, your son is bullying me again!” 

Although your opponent is a little brat, you’re still unable to win. In this short round of Go, your white pieces have more or less been “eaten” by your son’s black pieces.

“Dummy. Don’t blame your son if your skills can’t match up to his.” Victor sets down the documents in his hand, walking over to observe.

Is this something he should be saying in front of the kid!? What about your dignity as a mother? 

You turn around with a glare. “You were the one who taught me how to play Go. My teacher didn’t teach me properly!”

In the past, you’d typically respond to Victor’s remarks with a stubborn retort. Nowadays, you simply toss the bucket to someone else.

“If you make that move, you’d be sending yourself straight to a loss,” Victor comments, seeing that you’re once again putting a white piece where it’d definitely be “eaten”.

“Who says that I’m making that move?” You flick your wrist, salvaging the fate of the white piece, along with your pride. With a dignified air, you continue. “A true gentleman keeps silent while watching a game.”

“Mom, putting your piece here isn’t any different from the other spot.” Your son notes expressionlessly. With a thud of his black piece, he is only one move away from “eating” your white piece.

“...”

Despite the truth in his words, being ridiculed by your son truly upsets you. “We’ll continue. What happened earlier was a tiny mistake.”

In the following rounds, your white pieces grow sparse on the board while Victor observes the mother-son battle calmly. Or rather, watching as you get obliterated by your son.

Wanting to prolong the competition despite the lack of prospects, you courageously seek Victor’s assistance. “Hubby, help me out!”

Ignoring his son’s awkward expression, Victor rubs your head in a comforting manner. Picking up a piece and placing it onto the board, he instantly rescues several white pieces from a tragic ending. “Next time, give your Mom a chance. You need to give some confidence to opponents who are weaker than you.”

Your son nods in half-understanding.

“...”

Victor, don’t think I can’t tell that you’re calling me a noob!

[ GAVIN ]

Just as you wished, you had a son. However, there are times when you really think your son isn’t cute at all!

Your son watches you sternly, hands on his hips.

“Mommy, Dad said that you can’t eat ice-cream these days.”

“Be good. If you don’t say anything, your dad won’t find out. Also, I’m not the only one eating. You can have one too~” You attempt to bribe the little fellow who is utterly loyal to Gavin.

He rejects your suggestion decisively. “No way. Dad will get angry.”

This so-called anger is simply Gavin displaying a cold expression momentarily. Away from his son’s gaze, you’d play coy and Gavin would release a sigh of resignation before gently reminding you not to commit this offence again. To you, this isn’t a deterrence factor at all.

Since your son can’t find out about this little secret, you huff while returning the ice-cream into the fridge. Then, you grab a bag of spicy sticks from the snack basket.

Before your fingers touch the jagged edges of the opening, your son stops you.

“Mom, no spicy sticks either.” 

“...”

It truly isn't a good feeling to be ordered around by a child. 

Bored out of your wits, you bury yourself in the sofa, watching as your son stuffs the packet of spicy sticks back into the snack basket. “What other things did your dad prohibit?”

Your son tilts his head as he recalls. “Aside from ice-cream, mala soup, snacks, fried chicken, there’s nothing else.”

“...”

And he called that “nothing”!?

With the loss of snacks, you feel like your entire life has turned dim and gloomy. You get up coldly before walking into the bedroom listlessly. “I’ll take a nap. When your dad gets back, tell him to face the corner and stay there.”

Your son obediently agrees.

Close to dinnertime, your honourable husband returns home. Even before he removes his shoes, his son calls out to him. “Mom asked you to stand at the corner.” The little rascal gloats slightly.

“???”

Gavin is left dumbfounded, and has no idea what he did to anger you. “Where is she?”

“She’s asleep.”

After standing at the corner for ten minutes, there’s no stirring from the bedroom. Gavin pokes his son, who is sitting at the entrance and reading a book. “Go and check if your mom has woken up.”

“Nope.” Your son refuses instantly.

“Why not?”

“Mom said that if I supervise you until she wakes up herself, she’d buy me the latest model aeroplane.” The little child’s eyes brim with anticipation at the thought of the new toy.

“...”

So he abandoned his father for a new model aeroplane?

[ LUCIEN ]

“Mom, do you really not know how to do this question? Dad said that this question is very simple.” Your son looks up with a frown, only to see your frustrated expression as you rip up a sheet of rough paper.

“...don’t listen to your dad’s nonsense.”

The way Professor Lucien defines the word “simple” is completely different from ordinary people, all right?!

“Dad won’t lie to me. Mom can’t do it because she’s too stupid!”

Ever since the little fellow followed Lucien to the research centre, his admiration for his father has risen by another degree.

Having your self-esteem trampled upon, you toss the pen aside. “Why don’t you ask your dad then? I’m done with this!” 

Isn’t making cream puffs more enjoyable than solving problems? Why should you continue torturing yourself?

“...”

The little rascal pinches the booklet and heads into the study room. “Dad, I think I made Mom angry.”

“What happened?” You rarely lose your temper in front of the child.

His son shows him the question in the booklet. “Mom couldn’t solve it, so I called her stupid.”

“Apologise to your mother!” Lucien thinks that aside from him, nobody else can bully his Little Miss. Not even his son.

“Okay.” Your son responds obediently before going downstairs.

By the time Lucien finishes his work and heads into the kitchen, he spots you stuffing a cream puff into your son’s mouth. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Next time, just ask your dad directly if you have any math questions.”

“All right.” The little rascal’s puffy cheeks resemble a hamster’s. When he sees Lucien arriving, he returns to his room to read books, giving the both of you space.

Amused by the mother-son interaction, Lucien waits till his son leaves before entering the kitchen and reaching out for a cream puff. Before he can even touch one, you whack his hand away.

“Hm? It seems that my wife is angry with me too?” Lucien wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Even though he’s exerting very little force, you're still unable to free yourself.

“I’m so sorry that I can’t do a question which, according to Professor Lucien, is very simple.” While he continues hugging you, you transfer the cream puffs from the baking tray onto a small plate. 

“That’s okay. Having one adult who can teach him is enough.”

You pout. “Your son called me stupid earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Lucien gives you a tap on the head. “My wife is the smartest. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken so long for me to win you over.”

Lucien’s sweet nothings are becoming smoother and smoother. Pushing him away with your elbow, you pick up the small plate. “Go and give the cream puffs to our son.”

Initially thinking that the plate was meant for him, Lucien is stunned momentarily. His son had a cream puff personally fed to him, while he hasn’t even managed to touch a cream puff. “What about mine?”

You release an icy “hmph”.

“Considering Professor Lucien’s high IQ, I’m sure he can make them himself. I want to give these to my son, who is also unable to solve that problem.”

“...”

Why does he have to bear the consequences when his son was the one who angered you?

[ KIRO ]

“I’m back~” 

You’ve just returned from a business trip which swept you overseas for close to a month, and it’s been a long time since you saw the two suns in your home.

“Mommy! Welcome home!”

“Miss Chips! Welcome home!”

The father-son duo exclaim unanimously, rushing over to the door with their similar faces and equally dazzling golden hair.

Your adorable son stumbles over to you, and you respond by squatting down and stretching your hands to give him a full hug. The little fellow tightens his grip around your neck to express his joy and how much he missed you.

Apple Box leaps around beside you to convey his welcome, and you can’t help but reach out to give him a pat on his fluffy head. In the time you weren’t around, he had put on quite a bit of weight.

The small entrance hall brims with a warm atmosphere... aside from Kiro.

At this moment, Kiro feels that his position in the home has deteriorated, and he shoots a killer glare towards your coquettish son and Apple Box, who weren’t sidelined by you.

“Miss Chips, did you not miss me... QAQ”

Despite the passage of time, Kiro, who has even become a father, seems to have become more childish.

You purse your lips. “Who said so? I missed you very much.”

“But you hugged him first and even patted Apple Box. You didn’t give me a hug.” The more he talks about it, the more insignificant he feels.

“Dad, you’re so heavy. Mom won’t be able to carry you.” Your son rubs salt into his wound.

Sure enough, Kiro gets offended by this. With a darkened expression, he pulls his son away from your arms, lifting him into the air. “Say that again!”

The little rascal struggles for a while before escaping from his grasp, then buries himself into your arms again. “Mommy, I drew you a picture!” With this, he sends Kiro a competitive glance.

Amused by the usual competition between father and son, you feed off your son’s excitement. “Really? My darling is incredible!”

“I’m incredible too!” Kiro is deathly afraid of falling behind. “Go away.” He pulls his son away from you once again. His left hand reaches behind your knees, and he bends down to carry you up. When he feels your hands tightening around his neck, he lets out a satisfied “hmph”.

“I can pick your Mom up in a princess carry. Can you?”

“Once I’ve grown up, I can do it too!” Your son gives him a glance of disdain. “Also, you’d be old by the time I grow up. I’d also be more handsome than you. Mommy will definitely like me more~”

“Looks like you need a spanking!” Kiro places you down before reaching for his son.

“Kiro, you’re not allowed to hit our son!” You hurriedly stop him before he can do anything.

“He was challenging my authority as his father.”

You tousle his hair in a comforting manner. “Be good. Actually, our son wasn’t wrong. When you’re old, you’d...”

“Miss Chips!”

“When you’re old, you’d still be handsome!” You chuckle gently, tugging him on the sleeve to make him bend down slightly. A sweet kiss lands on the side of his face. “Superheroes are the most handsome~”

[ SHAW ]

“Don’t make a mess out of our house!”

The moment you see the unsalvageable mess on the coffee table, the only thought that runs through your mind is sending this troublemaker back to the oven to be re-made.

“Dad said that an overly neat doesn’t have a homely feeling.” Your son tilts his head upwards confidently, continuing with his work on hand.

“So why are you doodling on the wall?”

The originally pure white wall has been morphed beyond recognition. And why does the style of this abstract art look so familiar?

Your son wipes his hands on a damp cloth at the side, then picks up a crayon. “Dad said that aesthetic sense must be picked up since young.”

Seeing the patches of postmodern art on the wall causes your blood to boil. “Can’t you use paper?”

As compared to your frantic state, your son is much more composed. “Dad said that I should strike while the iron’s hot when it comes to being inspired. I didn’t have time to find paper, so I drew on the wall.”

No matter what, you have to find the main culprit.

“Shaw, get over here!” Your twist your head and roar towards the living room.

“Did you allow him to draw on the walls?” You glare at him fiercely, causing his initial “yes” to quickly turn into a “I did not.”

Your son lifts his head in confusion. “Dad, didn’t you say that I should draw wherever I wanted to? You even said a child’s talent shouldn’t be stifled.”

“...”

With a grim laugh, you toss him a rag. “Since you allowed him to do it, you’ll be the one to clean up.”

“...son, use paper next time. Don’t draw on the walls.” Shaw finds a smaller rag and hands it to his son. The both of them begin wiping off the colourful traces on the wall pitifully, wishing they could travel back in time to stop this from happening in the first place.

Sitting on your son’s small bed while scrolling through your phone, you occasionally look up to supervise their progress.

Once they’re more or less done, your son suddenly pipes up.

“When can we head out to do graffiti?”

“Graffiti?” Why weren’t you aware of such plans?

“...” 

Shaw has a bad feeling about this.

“Shaw. Explain.”

“It’s just... nurturing his artistic side...” His voice dies off at the end.

“Okay. Right now, I’ll be nurturing his mathematical side. Stand at the corner of the wall and count from one to a thousand.”

After tidying your son’s bed, you head out to pour yourself a cup of water.

Shaw tosses a sympathetic glance at his son. “Every man for himself.”

“As his father, you’ll keep him company.”

“...”

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

[violettelueur]

GOJO SATORU || BECOME A REAL COUPLE

| featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors other than that n/a

| form : imagine (with she/her pronouns)

| word count : 2700

| published : 05 december 

| request : Hi hiiii!! I saw that your requests were open again :) I would like to order a black coffee please! a fake dating → feelings realisation where (fem) reader is from one of the big 3 clans and is pressured into finding a SO by her clan. So Gojo offers to fake date her; meeting her parents etc. Only for them both to realise that they ended up falling for each other. Would love to see how you determine the way they handle it and confess for real. Thank you!! Love all your work so far x

| barista’s notes : can i be completely honest with you? this little piece isn’t really my best ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ even though it’s only been 2 days but i already feel like my writing skills have disappeared ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but other than that, thank you so much for loving all my work ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ i really hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

“You have to get married soon Y/N! You’re 27 and we have no heir for the Kamo clan!”

“Didn’t I leave the clan 10 years ago? There is no way I’m going to listen to someone like you nor my child is forced to become a jujutsu sorcerer, and what makes this more irritating is that you came all the way to my workplace to tell me this,” you snapped back at the man in front of you, before turning around trying to walk away from the situation. However, it seemed like the old man wasn’t going to give in to the situation or to the rejection of your answer, he was stubborn - just like you were, after all, that was the only thing you inherited from that man.

“Y/N! I am your father and I demand you to listen to me!”

“Shut up!” you shouted before turning to look over your shoulder. The man that stood there pride and arrogance running through his veins - something that you didn’t inherit, fortunately. There was no way you could call this man your father. The same ‘father’ that criticized you for not having the same blood manipulation like the rest of the family - well that’s what he gets for being with a woman from a different clan that had a different curse technique that you inherited - an outcast, that was what you were within the Kamo clan, yet they still demanded you to get married and have a child to keep the lineage going. There was no way in hell you were going to follow their rules.

“What a disgusting father you are, no wonder mother left you,” you commented with a smirk before continuing to walk away to go back to where you were heading. On the other hand, it seemed like someone else wanted to disturb your plans.

“Y/N~”

                                     ꕥ

At this current moment in time, you were standing in front of one of the very few vending machines that were located within Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College wondering what you were going to choose since you were still undecided. Cold Water? Milk tea? Coffee? Maybe a carbonated fruit drink to satisfy your sweet tooth? You weren’t so sure.

“Have you put money in the machine yet honey~?” someone asked you from behind, causing you to quickly turn around to see a tall white-haired figure standing before you with a teasing smile painted upon his face.

“Satoru? Ah...no I haven’t” you muttered as you scratched your cheek with your finger, trying to occupy yourself with something to not look at him. “Let me pay for you then,” Gojo then offered as he reached over to the side, accidentally brushing his arm - causing you to tense up - before he placed some of his coins within the slot to add some currency into the machine before you could even deny his offer.

“I could pay for myself you know, and we’re alone, you don’t have to act,” you stated before sighing in defeat, as you turned back around to decide what you were going to choose once again. “I know,” Gojo commented back to you before gently placing his chin upon your shoulder, leading you to tense up once again from the physical contact before slowing relaxing, “but what type of boyfriend would be I if I didn’t treat you a little?”.

‘Well fake boyfriend Satoru’

                                        ꕥ

“Your family pressuring you again?” Satoru cheerfully asked as he walked beside you, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere from the conversation that you had with your ‘father’ just a few seconds ago.

“More like the Kamo clan than the L/N clan, get married this, get married that. Is that all I am good for? Marriage? Augh, I just need them to leave me alone, I left for a damn reason,” you ranted as you put your hands in your pockets, restraining yourself from punching something to let out some steam.

“How about I date you then?” Gojo suddenly asked, leading you to look at him with the most wide-eyed expression like he had just said something completely stupid - to which he did - but before you could even augre what he just stated, Gojo quickly began to explain what he meant by his little statement. “What I mean is let’s fake that we’re dating, we deceive everyone that we’re together and the Kamo clan will finally leave you alone once they realise that you are in a relationship with someone from the Gojo clan aka me, they can’t augre with that,”.

Still looking at your colleague with a dumbfounded expression, you turned your head to look in front of you before thinking about what he had just suggested. What Gojo stated to you was somewhat a clever idea. The Kamos family was obsessed with bloodlines and for you to be with Gojo means that they would foolishly believe they can become more powerful. Even though you didn’t physically inherit the blood manipulation curse technique, you still had in somewhere in your veins due to your father meaning they would believe they still have a chance for a powerful heir. However, that would mean you have to announce this to the clan as well as your mother’s clan - which wasn’t much of an issue for her side - it was just too much effort for a fake relationship.

“Satoru that is so much effort, you’re going to have to meet the Kamo clan then,” you commented, after realising the pros and cons of this little ordeal. “I know, but once we end this little fakery of a relationship, they don’t have to know, you don’t have to report your every move to them, remember you left,” Gojo explained back, leading to any worries that you had manifesting to instantly fade away with the wind. 

Taking one last sigh, you turned back to him and nodded. “Fine, let’s fake date Satoru,” you finally declared before taking your hand out in front of him for a handshake, leading to the powerful shaman to take hold of your hand before firmly shaking it, “okay fake-girlfriend! Leave it to me,”

                                ꕥ

Sitting in front of your dad across a table was something you never wished on your worst enemy, you hated that you were back in the four walls that you had escaped from many years ago. However, for some odd reason, when Gojo was by your side, you felt completely safe.

“Since when did this little association between the both of you come to play?” your father asked in a suspicious tone as he eyed both you and Gojo - yet, knowing how greedy your father was for power, you could tell he was delighted at the fact you were ‘together’ with the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer. 

“Ah~ We have been together since our last year at Jujutsu Tech,” Gojo explained as he turned to look at you with a cheeky smile on his face to which you smiled back at him, trying to keep up with the facade of being a fake couple. “And you didn’t inform me this Y/N?” your father then asked to which then you explained, “well, I did leave the clan a year after that, so I had the right to no inform you. After all, I’m not your daughter like you stated beforehand,” 

Angered by your sudden statement, your father immediately slammed his hand on the desk as if the statement wasn’t true at all. “I demanded you to come back, I demanded you to respect the name of the Kamo Clan and this is how you taint it,” you father roared in fury, causing Gojo to put an arm out in front of you as if he was protecting you from anything that could happen to cause you to look at him in shock.

“Technically, Y/N didn’t even taint your name, she took their mother’s, so you’re in the wrong here, don’t do something that you will regret,” Gojo sinisterly threatened the man that was in front of both on you, before taking your hand in his as a way to comfort you - surprising you once again from his actions, yet for some reason, you gripped on his hand somewhat conveying him that you were thankful for him standing up for you.

                                      ꕥ

“Ah Miss Y/N, did you come to see your mother?” a maid asked in a surprised tone, once she noticed that you came out of your designated room with you adjusting your red obi sash around your waist as your wore your family’s kimono, white was light in colour embroidered with the minimalist design of flowers and butterflies - giving you a somewhat soft feminine look, contrasting the portrayal of your character somewhat.

“You know you don’t have to put the ‘Miss’ in front of my name, and I do apologise for the sudden visit, I forgot to inform you all,” you told the maid with a gentle smile, leading to the maid to smile at you back before you then continued with, “Ah, I did come to meet my mother, but have you seen Satoru? Like a tall man with white hair, who is also wearing sunglasses,”. However, before the maid could answer your question.

“Y/N~”

Turning around, you found Gojo walking towards you with your mother by his side, causing you to freeze in shock as you didn’t expect him to go to your mother without you. “I thought we agreed to greet my mother together Satoru,” you commented as you pointed your index finger at him to emphasise your point, only for him to smile at you cheekily before scanning his eyes up and down at your new outfit. “You do look beautiful in your kimono though, is this what you wear when you come back home?” Gojo then asked, to which you nodded at his question - trying to ignore your pending blush being slowly painted in your cheeks - before you quickly greeted your mother, who was watching from the sideline.

“Good Afternoon mom, I apologise for coming to visit you so suddenly,” you said to her, to which your mother softly smiled at you before cupping your cheeks in her hands. “There is no need to apologise, I’m happy that you came back home since you are so busy back at the school, but also I’m happy that your boyfriend introduced himself to me, he is quite a different character must I say,” she commented with a light laugh, causing you to turn to him wondering what he had said to her, only for him to put up a peace sign as if that would answer your wondering thoughts. Although, before you could even vocalise your confusion, your mother linked her arms with yours before guiding you down the corridor to welcome you home.

“I can tell he really cares about you Y/N,” your mother stated, causing you to look at her with a perplexed expression to which she then smiled back at you before beckoning Gojo to follow the both of you to invite him for some sweets and tea that were being prepared.

‘If only you knew mom, if you only knew how much I care about him as well even though this isn’t real’

                                      ꕥ

“You’ve been staring at the canned latte for some time, do you want that one?” 

Suddenly, you instantly snapped out of your thoughts - not realising that you were in a daze - causing you to then immediately click on the button indicating on the mentioned drink. “Ah, sorry I was just wondering if I should go with the strong or light one,” you then answered, trying to hide the fact you were looking back on the moments that you had with Gojo.

“Are you okay?” Gojo then asked as he removed his chin from your shoulder, letting you crouch down to grab the coffee from the dispenser before collecting the coins from the other dispenser to give back to Gojo, only for him to shake his hand and say, “if you need another drink, you can use it,”

‘Is that why he put extra in?’

“Are you sure?” you quietly ask, only for the cheeky shaman to nod his head before he deciding to walk with you to wherever you were heading off too. “Like I said before, what type of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spoil you a bit?” Gojo then asked once again, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“You know we’re not really dating right? We are a fake couple,” you mentioned, as you opened the can of coffee to take a sip after reminding him about the little plan that the both of you came up with to avoid the whole ‘marriage’ drama from the Kamo clan.

However, you didn’t hear an answer from your friend. Only pure silence surrounded the both of you, causing you to be perplexed on why you didn’t instantly hear a sassy comment back from the shaman, leading you to pause and turn your head to the side, only to see the man look at you dead in the eyes with his crystal blue ones.

‘Since when did he?’

“What if I don’t wanna be a fake boyfriend anymore?” Gojo questioned you with an uncharacteristic serious tone, causing you to look at him in bewilderment before quickly coming to the conclusion that he was probably teasing you.

“You mean you want to end this facade? If you want we can, there is kind of no point in continuing this little act,” you replied, as you took a sip of the caffeinated drink causing you to gain a little bit of energy in a short amount of time.

“Y/N, I’m being serious, I don’t want to be your fake-boyfriend anymore, I want this to be real,” Gojo then declared, causing you to suddenly choke on the liquid in shock before letting out a coughing fit as you tried to clear your throat leading to Gojo patting your back to help you out.

“Ha?” you then expressed, not sure on how to react to his declaration as you tried to look for any deception in his eyes. “Oh you are being serious Satoru,” you then commented to which then he nodded as if he didn’t already convince you that he hadn’t already.

Quickly looking away from the man, you were trying to hide the rose hues that slowly was coming upon your face. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. You thought you were alone on this. Ever since that moment when you and Gojo met your father, you always wanted to stay by his side, you felt like you were important, you felt safe, you felt warm. 

It was like what your mother explained to you when you were young, ‘don’t make the same mistake as me Y/N, when you find someone you want to be with, make sure they make you feel safe and protect and not just the ‘butterflies in your stomach feeling’, I want you to feel loved and important, I’m so sorry for putting you through this’

“Y/N, come on say something, I’m not a nervous guy but this is something else you know,” Gojo pleaded as he wasn’t really enjoying the long silence that was going on around both you and him, only for you to suddenly grip his dark blue jacket before pulling him closer to press your face upon his chest as if you were still trying to hide but somewhat trying to express some confidence in what you were planning to do.

“Are you absolutely being serious ?” you then asked, once again asking how serious he was being.

“Absolutely serious,” Gojo then replied as he placed his large hand on the top of your head before caressing your hair, trying to comfort you from your embarrassment.

“Then I don’t wanna be your fake girlfriend anymore….please,” you then murmured as you gripped his jacket more tightly as you confessed your long time thoughts, only to suddenly feel a peck being placed on the crown of your head.

“Of course honey~ let’s become a real couple”