#grandma's favorites unite

[kittyit]

I want pumpkin pie but my grandma isn't alive :(

[mihai-florescu]

If I may be so bold as to ask, what are your favourite Eichi stories?

Fav eichi stories... every story eichi is in is blessed and made wonderful by his presence alone... that aside, jingle bells and milky way and of course element & checkmate my favorite reminis... black tea too is a favorite. OH. EP:LINK how could i forget my darling...my darlink if u will... but theres also circus and quarrel fes i loved...daydream..............

[fishfooddude]

No Phone Policy 3.0

Baby girl Berzatto needed a metal name, and this felt like the choice, ya know?

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 2

“Hi, beautiful… oh, this is hella trippy buggies. I remember holding you for the first time, and now I’m holding my granddaughter for the first time…” your Dad laughed as he stared down at the tiny pink bundle in his arms. You smiled as you watched him pace beside your bed. “Where’s Carmy? I have a present for this little princess—I’m surprised he isn’t glued to her, or you, for that matter.” 

You grinned as you adjusted yourself in the incredibly uncomfortable hospital bed you’d been in for the past 48 hours. “He went home to grab me some stuff I forgot.” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t see through your bluff. With a narrow stare, your Dad nodded. He could tell you weren’t telling him something, but he didn’t want to upset you by pushing the topic. 

“Well, what did you two name this perfect little angel?” your Dad questioned as he handed you your daughter. You shrugged, “Haven’t decided yet… the papers are over there on the table, but we can’t decide.” 

“What were you two thinkin’? I’m team something unique and magical, especially since that lil girl was born on one of the most magical days of the year.” he smiled, putting a hand over his chest. You chuckled and adjusted the infant in your arms.

“July 23. Best day of your life.” you answered, “You know, I know the story by heart… but she hasn’t heard it yet.” the sing-song nature of your comment made your Dad lean forward in his chair. “Baby’s first Grandpa story! May I?” he asked, offering his hands to you. You laughed as you handed the baby back to him.

“I better get my daughter back, Dad,” you playfully scolded as he held her close to his chest. He shrugged and responded, “No promises. She’s my new favorite person in the world—your Ma and sisters, and the boys are a very close second, but right now—it’s all her.” 

“You hear that gorgeous? Grandpa has known you for 30 minutes, and your greatness has already superseded your Mommy’s. You’re my perfect lil angel.” he cooed. As he babbled at her, you rolled your eyes, “Tell the story, Grandpa.” 

He scoffed in your direction before turning on the story-telling voice he would use when telling your nephews' stories. “The year was 1986. Your Grandpa was traveling with one of the greatest bands mankind will ever know, Van Halen. Metallica is also a pretty fuckin’ awesome choice for music- don’t let your Daddy ruin your taste in music, princess. You will be my little metalhead.” 

“Dad.” you scolded. He shot you an exasperated look, “He’s not even here bonding with his daughter. I’m GOING to shit on his shitty taste in music.” he challenged. He noticed your subtle wince when he brought up Carmy for a second time. Something was going on, but he didn’t dare bring it up, “Ok, ok, I’ll stop shittin’ on Carmy. Back to baby’s first Grandpa story.” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair and adjusting the baby in his arms. 

“Grandpa was in St. Louis. I’d followed Van Halen for 12 weeks across the continental United States. I was broke as shit, hungry as hell, and I STANK. I’m at the truck stop right- there’s this little diner called Olivette. I ordered the cheapest breakfast I could, and at the end of my meal- this GORGEOUS waitress brought me a piece of gooey butter cake- a Missouri delicacy, in time you’ll have your fair share, princess.” he assured the gurgling bundle in his arms, “The waitress goes, ‘it’s on the house sugar’ in this cute ass little twang and I about died. That was your Grandma Dottie.” 

You smiled as he continued the story. He went in to explain how he’d worked up the courage to ask her if she was going to the Van Halen show that night, and when she said ‘yes,’ he knew she was the one. You laughed as he explained that his mutual love of music had brought him an amazing life. 

“I met Dottie on July 23, 1986, so the fact you were born on July 23, 2024, is a sign. I think I can convince your Mommy to give you a metal ass name. Auntie Pamala was named after Panama- the best Van Halen song. Your Mommy’s middle name is Olivette because that’s where I met your Grandma. Then Auntie Mars is Mars because Grandma wouldn’t let me name her after Lars Ulrich, but Mars was acceptable.” you laughed as your Dad explained the Y/L/N family lure. “Your Auntie Pam is my favorite, though- she named her boys after Eddie and Alex Van Halen.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I love you, Daddy, but I’m not naming my daughter after Van Halen or Metalica.” He scoffed in response. What about Pantera or Megadeath? I’m just sayin’ with a last name like Bearzatto. She needs a metal-ass name.” 

You laughed as you collected your daughter back from him, “Okay, buggies, I love you, and I’m really proud of you. Not just for procreating but for everything you’ve done. Your Ma would be real proud, too.” 

~

“What do you mean she doesn’t have a name yet?” your sister Pam laughed as she cradled your daughter in her arms. You shrugged, “We just can’t decide.” 

“Didn’t he insist on some Van Halen reference?” Mason, Pam’s husband, laughed as he entered the room with a brown paper bag. You shook your head, “He gave her three band onesies, but I think I got out of the Van Halen references.” 

Mason shook his head as he placed the bag on the end of your bed, “I wasn’t sure what you’d be cravin’, but I figured a sub and chips was a safe bet.” he grinned. “Thanks, Mason.”

“What about Jade Van? Dad would freak over the reference.” your baby sister Mars laughed as she put her head on your shoulder, and she snuggled closer to you, craning her neck to get a better look at your still-unnamed daughter. You shook your head, “I don’t know how Carmy would feel about that one.”

“Bitch. He isn’t even here. Name her whatever the fuck you want.” she said with an overly dramatic eye roll. Mars was the only one who knew about the issues you and Carmy had been going through, but you couldn’t stomach telling her that Carmy missed the birth. 

“How about Blade? Blade Berzatto—fuckin’ metal, right?” you joked, trying to brush Carmy out of your mind. Mars erupted into laughter,, which startled the baby in your arms. You cradled the baby and nudged Mars to shut up. “I love it. But let’s go more norm-core,” Mars said as she ran her thumb against the baby’s chubby cheek.

~

“Are you an Erin? Jasper? Kali? Luna?” you listed off baby names as you did skin-to-skin after the baby’s afternoon feeding. You were finally done with visitors for the day, and you’d turned your phone off to avoid dealing with Carmy. You’d inevitably have to talk to him at one point, but having at least one more day of peace was a priority right now. You didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but it was a safe assumption that he was probably working himself to the bone at The Bear. The Bear… Bear… “Wolf.” the name came to you. “Wolf Berzatto… Daddy goes by Bear. We were calling cub while I was pregnant… you don’t call baby wolves cubs, but I like it. You do need a middle name, though. I know Daddy liked the name Bonnie.” you rattled off before leaning over to kiss the baby’s hat-covered head. 

“What if you hate the name Wolf? I mean, you could go by your middle name or a nickname… Daddy’s name is Carmen, but he goes by Carmy. Okay, Wolf Bonnie Berzatto. I like it, and if Daddy doesn’t, he can suck my dick. Am I swearing too much around you? I feel like I am.” you laughed, “Okay… also, you’re only getting your Daddy’s last name because I changed my last name when I married him.” 

“Wolf… that’s quite a name,” Natalie awkwardly complimented, trying not to pass too much judgment on her niece. She can go by Bonnie if she hates it.” You defended your name choice for the hundredth time in the short eight hours since announcing her name to your family group chat. Turning your phone back on had been anxiety-inducing. Carmy had left you hundreds of texts and voicemails begging to be allowed in the hospital room and apologizing for anything and everything he could think of. It was endearing, but you were still pissed off. 

“Does Carmy know about the name choice?” Natalie carefully prodded as she watched you shove stuff into your bag. You shook your head, “I haven’t talked to him yet.” 

Natalie knew you hadn’t talked to him and knew about you barring him from the hospital. He came back to the restaurant. Natalie had seen Carmy upset in the past, but this was a different kind of upset. He went off on Richie about the ‘no phone policy’ he’d enforced on all staff. Carmy was never a fighter, but Marcus and Sweeps had to hold him back after Carmy had punched Richie in the side of the head.  Richie, visibly disorientated, screamed a ‘what the fuck’ alerting the kitchen staff of the fight going on in the thankfully empty front of house. It took a while for Carmy to calm down enough to tell anyone what had happened. Richie apologized but said Carmy missed the birth, which wasn’t his fault. It was Carmy’s fault. Richie went off about Carmy knowing your due date and how he should’ve planned better and asked for an exception to the rule. 

Natalie sighed, remembering how that comment had riled Carmy up again. She drove him home while he called you repeatedly, getting progressively more upset each time his call went to voicemail. “She can’t do this to me, Sugar- I know I fucked up, but-but she can’t-” Carmy stopped midsentence and began rocking himself forward and backward in his seat. “Carmy, wh-wh-what can I do? How can I help you?” Natalie begged as she parked in the driveway of the house you two owned. “Do you have a fuckin’ time machine so I can go back and not miss the birth of my fuckin’ daughter!” he screamed, making Natalie freeze in her seat.

Natalie stayed with Carmy the entire time you were in the hospital. He was a mess. He flipped between extreme rage and full-blown panic. He ranted about how you were going to leave him and prevent him from seeing his daughter. He cried so hard he threw up multiple times. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t eating. Natalie had never seen her brother like this before and was at a loss for what to do. 

When you called her to come pick you and the baby up from the hospital, she didn’t know what to say. You’d asked her not to tell or bring Carmy, which she understood, but it still conflicted her. You hadn’t filled her in on Carmy’s minimal involvement with your pregnancy the past weeks, but Natalie could put two and two together. After enlisting the help of Syd and Richie, Natalie felt as if she could leave Carmy and come pick you up. 

“Are you okay, Nat?” you questioned as you strapped Wolf into her car seat. It’s nothin’. I just feel really guilty that I’m meeting my niece before Carmy had the chance to…” Natalie explained as she crossed her arms over her stomach. You knew Natalie had a point. You felt that same guilt. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with your husband and daughter. 

You sighed, “Well, I guess I have to talk to Carmy at one point, so let’s go.”

Part 4

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

---------------

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[tonyspank]

LOVERS ROCK

Warnings: kissing, fluff

Summary: Jenna meets you during a football game.

A/N: decided to release this a bit earlier because i missed y’all

The arena was packed, but even that was an understatement. Loud cheers and chants echoed through the arena, creating an atmosphere of excitement. Every seat was filled, and people were standing in the aisles and at the back of the stadium. It was clear that the crowd was ready for the game.

Everyone's eyes were on two people tonight. Messi and Ronaldo, two of the greatest players in the world, were about to take the field. The anticipation was palpable as the players lined up for the kickoff. It was a match that no one wanted to miss. Including yourself, you were seated further back in the stadium, not wanting to sit too close as it ruins the view of the game.

You heard the whistle blow, signalling the start of the match. You felt your heart racing as the ball was kicked off. You could feel the energy of the stadium rising, and the crowd roared with anticipation. You were already hooked and ready to watch the game unfold.

The players were in full motion, running and passing the ball with precision. Every time the ball moved closer to either goal, tension could be felt in the air. The players fought hard for every inch, and Ronaldo was so close to scoring a goal. He leapt up for a header, but the keeper was too quick and managed to save it. "Tão perto!" (So close!) You shout, standing up from your seat.

The crowd roared in appreciation for his effort, and the game continued on as if nothing had happened. Ronaldo looked disappointed, but he quickly got up and encouraged his teammates to keep pushing. He knew that one goal could turn the game around and he wasn't going to give up. The crowd cheered him on, and the players continued to battle it out.

Not too long after Messi scores his first goal of tonight, the majority of the people around you jumped in joy. But you, you sank down into your seat. Ronaldo looked dejected, but he kept his composure and continued to urge on his team.

"That was so good," you hear a girl say beside you despite the loud crowd. She suddenly turned to you and flashed a smile. You smiled back, still in awe of what Messi had just done. "He is okay." You tell her, leaning in close so she can hear you, your Portuguese accent strong in your words. She laughs, nodding in agreement. "He's one of my favorite players. I've been meaning to see him for a while."

You nod, "Ronaldo is my favorite." She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Most people around here say Messi is the best." You shrug, "I like both, but I am uhh, what's it called..." You snap your fingers, and squint your eyes trying to remember the right word. "Tendencioso..." The girl furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Ah, biased! That's the word." The girl smiles and nods in understanding. " She giggles, "Yeah, same here. It's always Messi vs Ronaldo with everyone." You chuckle in agreement. "Exactly, but it's just opinion, right?" She nods, "Yeah, opinion."

"Where are you from?" She asks, and you reply, "I'm from the United States." She grins and says, "Really? You have a very strong accent." You chuckle, "From hanging out with my father and grandma so much." She smiles knowingly and says, "I see. Family has a way of influencing accents. I'm Jenna by the way."

You smile, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N." You both laugh and the conversation turns to other topics, the game no longer the topic. You share stories of your families and the different experiences you've had growing up, and how those experiences have shaped your outlook on life.

"My mom is actually here with me. She's in the bathroom somewhere," Jenna says. You adjust the glasses on your face with a smile. "My father is here too, he's probably outside getting some fresh air." You say, looking around.

Looking back on the field you watch as the game is coming to a close. Just then Jenna's mom comes back. You turn to Jenna's mom and introduce yourself. "It's nice to meet you," you say with a friendly smile. Jenna's mom smiles back and says, "It's nice to meet you too!" You all laugh and exchange a few more pleasantries before focusing back on the game.

Ronaldo's team comes out on top and you jump up, clapping your hands in excitement. Jenna laughs at you, playfully rolling her eyes at your reaction. After the game, Jenna and you sit back and continue talking as the players make their way to the locker rooms.

Ronaldo waves at you from a distance and you smile, waving back. Jenna notices and her mouth drops in shock. "Did Ronaldo just wave at you?" You nod, feeling your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

With your hoodie up and glasses on, no one knew that you were Ronaldo's kid. It felt nice to just be able to sit back and watch him play without a bunch of people pestering you.

Jenna looks at you wide-eyed and full of admiration. You smile and shrug it off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "Would rather it be Messi," you joke causing Jenna to cover her mouth in laughter.

You both chuckle at your joke, and the moment passes. You can feel the admiration between you both, a newfound connection forming.

Not long after that, a man with a camera approaches the two of you. "Jenna! Can we get a photo?" Jenna obliges, posing for the camera while holding up a customized jersey. The man takes a few shots and then thanks Jenna before walking away. Jenna turns to you and grins. "You're famous?" you ask.

Jenna nodded. "I'm an actor." She explained that her latest role was in a commercial for Adidas and that the customized jersey was part of her costume for the shoot. You were amazed and filled with admiration at her success, especially after hearing about her upbringing. "Huh," is all you can muster.

Jenna smiles, clearly pleased with the admiration. "Oh meu Deus, você é Wednesday Addams." You mumble to yourself, but Jenna hears it. Jenna's eyes lit up in surprise and she laughed. "That's right!" You smiled, "You did the dance!" You begin mocking the movements of the dance but Jenna shakes her head, her face heating up in embarrassment. Jenna laughs and playfully nudges you. "My secret is out," she said. You smiled, feeling happy that you had made her laugh.

Jenna and you continued to chat, finding out more about each other, and you were surprised to find out that you had a lot in common. Jenna's sarcastic jokes and remarks surprisingly made you feel at ease and you enjoyed the conversation. Before you knew it, the evening had passed and it was time to part ways.

It's been a couple of weeks since you've seen Jenna. You gotta admit, you missed talking to her. She didn't know who you were, but you knew who she was. You decided to comment under her most recent post, not thinking about the media would probably react.

Liked by y/nronaldo, theweeknd, and 7,920,182 others

jennaortega 🖤

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y/nronaldo me mande uma mensagem estou com saudades de falar com você

hanna_iah12 Y/N RONALDO?? WTF

jennaortegaswife WHAT IS Y/N RONALDO DOING IN MY GIRLS COMMENT SECTION

y/n_ronaldo123 SINTO SUA FALTA?? 😳😳

jenna - ronaldo?

jenna - you didn't tell me that at the game

you - slipped my mind 😅

jenna - sure

jenna - that's why he waved at you

you - yes

you - i miss talking to you we had a very pleasant conversation

jenna - i miss talking to you as well

jenna - im going to be in paris for the next few days, are you?

you - i'll be leaving soon

you - we should hang out

"So, do you get a lot of backlash for not playing soccer—football..." She glances at you, and you laugh at her slip-up before continuing. "Like your father?" She looks away, blushing. "No," you say. "My dad's really supportive. He just wants me to be happy. But the media, yes. Ruthless. I understand why people want me to play football - it's what my dad is best at, and it's what people expect of me. But I'm not interested."

Jenna nods in response, taking the mask off her face. "But enough about me. You are splitting image of your mother!" You say, smiling. Jenna blushes again and laughs lightly. "Yeah, I guess I do look like her," Jenna says, still blushing.

You take off your glasses, stopping your course, and finding a spot to stand nearby. You chuckle and look into Jenna's eyes, your smile growing wider. "You know, I'm really glad that I got to meet you, Jenna," you say, still smiling. Jenna grins back and nods in agreement.

"Do you only speak Portuguese and English?" Jenna asks you. You shake your head, "No, I know some Spanish too." Jenna's eyes light up. "Really? That's great," she says. "I don't speak much Spanish myself but I know a couple of words. Maybe you can teach me some," Jenna suggests. You nod and smile. "Claro, no hay problema."

You fidget with your glasses, staring into the shorter girl's gaze. You look away quickly as she holds eye contact strongly. "I uh, I only know a lot because of my father. He's fluent in Portuguese and since we used to live in Spain so I had to learn a bit of Spanish as well." She smiles, her eyes twinkling. "It's amazing how you can pick up a language so quickly."

You shrug, "E simples mesmo..." She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she understands what you're saying with a few context clues. "You're so modest! You must be really smart." You shake your head, "Não, eu só pratiquei muito." She squints her eyebrows before laughing, "I have no idea what you just said."

You smile, "Pratiquei means I practiced a lot. I just took the time to learn it." She nods, "That's impressive." You chuckle, "It's nothing special. Everyone can do it if they put in the effort." She smiles, "Most people don't. That's what makes it special."

You nod, what she said was true. It also felt nice to get so many compliments from her about something so simple. "Are you hungry?" She nodded and smiled. "I haven't eaten anything since lunch, so I'm starving." You both laughed and offered to buy her dinner. She agrees, pulling up her mask before the two of you head off together.

Several months have passed since you and Jenna were spotted together in Paris. Rumours have been swirling about the two of you ever since. Some people say you're in a relationship, while others say it was just a casual fling. Whatever the truth is, nobody knows for sure.

All anyone can do is speculate, and the answers remain shrouded in mystery. Jenna has refused to comment on the matter, and you have stayed silent. Both of you have left the public to guess what's really happening between you two. You didn't know what you two were either to be fair. But one thing was clear: the connection between you was undeniable. Despite the lack of communication between you two, the bond was still there. It was a feeling neither one of you could deny.

Jenna felt herself wanting to be touching you every second. Your presence was just so comforting. You were like a magnet, drawing her in closer and closer. While all you wanted to do was stare into Jenna's eyes, her eyes expressed so much, and it was obvious that she was in love with you. Well, obvious to everyone except you of course.

Jenna's heart raced as she looked at you. She wanted to say something, but nothing came out. All she could do was stand there, hoping you'd notice her feelings and finally make a move.

Now back in the United States, you were at Jenna's place, a vinyl lowly playing in the background. Jenna laid against your shoulder as the two of you sat on the couch, just enjoying each other's company. You were actually teaching her some Portuguese, as she told you she downloaded Duolingo not too long ago. It was cute how she was going through all this trouble to learn your father's native language. She said she wanted to be able to communicate with your family if she visited them.

You were so proud of her effort, and she seemed to be really enjoying it. "Olá, sou a Jenna. Prazer em conhecê-lo." (Hi, I'm Jenna. Pleasure to meet you.) Jenna said slowly, repeating your words. You smiled and replied, "Muito prazer, Jenna! Você fala Português muito bem." (Nice to meet you, Jenna! You speak Portuguese very well.) She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to decipher what you said. You smiled and repeated what you said, slower, and she nodded in understanding. "Obrigado!" (Thank you!)

Jenna smiled and repeated the phrase back to you almost perfectly. You praised her for her effort, and she beams with pride. She had been learning Portuguese for a few weeks, and it was great to see her progress. "See, it is not that bad." You tell her. "You are doing really well!" Jenna smiled even wider and thanked you for the encouragement.

"Let's keep going," you said. "You are learning so fast, and I'm proud of you!" Jenna nodded in agreement, and you both got back to practicing Portuguese. After a while, you started to get up. Jenna furrowed her brows in confusion. "Where are you going?" she asked. You smiled and said, "That's enough for today. You've made great progress, I was going to head home." Jenna stared at you for a few seconds before speaking up, "You could stay here for tonight. If you want of course."

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "That sounds nice. I would be happy to stay." Jenna smiled and got up, motioning for you to sit back down. Instead, you turned up the vinyl player and held out your hand to Jenna. She began laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as she shook her head. "I can't dance." She laughs and you tilt your head in response, a smile on your lips. "Come on, it's easy," you say, dancing a bit on your own.

Jenna smiles at you and you hold out your hand again. "Por favor?" Jenna takes your hand and you start to twirl her around the room, the music guiding your movements. Jenna laughs, resting her head on your shoulder. Her laughter is contagious and you can't help but join in. You slowly come to a stop, Jenna still in your arms. As the music fades away, you find yourself lost in her eyes.

Jenna smiles her eyes glancing around your face. You lean in and gently press your lips against hers, feeling her lips soft against yours. Jenna's hands grip your shirt, pulling you deeper into the kiss. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You finally pull away, both of you breathless. You gaze into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. You lean in and kiss her again, this time softer and slower.

You break the kiss and Jenna's face breaks into a huge smile. She rests her forehead against yours, her eyes full of love and joy. "Eu te amo..." (I love you...) she whispers, her voice barely audible. You smile, bringing her into a tight hug before you press a kiss on the top of her head.

"Eu também te amo." (I love you too.)

[cmdrfupa]

Chihiro

2nd installment of Upheaval.

cw: all chapters and content warnings are listed in this post but this chapter contains smut near the end. Grandma's first nastee writing in a decade heh.

an: firstly, thank you for being so nice to me 😭 I expect nothing but you all seem to find a way to make me feel like I’m good at this and I appreciate it more than you know. I tried not to make this a yep fest and therefore at least 2 more chapters will happen so yay!

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! ✨✨

August 6, 2021

  No longer being led by liquid courage, but by the sheer need to be your doting husband once again, Kento took initiative and scheduled the next counseling session. On appointment day, he picked you up early, ensuring he had an hour to calm his nerves and spirit during the drive.

The idea of reconciling felt surreal once he learned how close you were to being done with this marriage. 

"She has the papers drawn up and waiting to have you served. So figure out how to stop her from giving them to you, Nanamin! Simple." His voice of reason was the sound of Gojo telling him that you had already drawn up divorce papers. 

From what he was told, you were asking for very little if you both let it go through. Willing to leave him the home you bought together only wanting to keep the Nanami name and split all investments you'd made while married. Fair even when your heart was being broken into pieces. Perhaps he didn't deserve you. 

So step one was easy: Stop you from handing those papers to him. And that started here.

Ootaishi Niko: Would be special grade sorcerer and revered therapist across the southern prefectures. 

Currently not one of Kentos' favorite people.

  "I'm glad the first two sessions didn't scare you off. Make yourself comfortable." Kento sat in the middle of the couch, his thigh lightly grazing yours as he crossed his legs. He noticed you sat close to him, and he didn't move. 

Heavy air filled the room as the sound of the central unit whirred to life, gusting a light chill through the air.

Uneasy anticipation sat in the wings of the brightly lit space. 

The chenille-upholstered couch tugged at Kento as he sat back, placing the pillow between you both.

"We apologize for ghosting. After the two sessions, we didn't know—"

"If it was worth returning once they moved out of our shared home," Kento cut in before you could finish. 

He noticed your leg bouncing; he fixated on the box of tissues in front of him. "I apologize. That was unnecessary." 

"It's fine."  

Ootaishi noticed the small interaction but said nothing. Instead, she lowered the window covering that faced the couch and sat across from you in a single chair. 

"I am, as you know, dedicated to healing relationships, revealing the truth, and finding solutions. By entering my office, you consented to my domain. You could try to bypass my expansion, but it would do you more harm in the end."

She sat a small talisman on the table. The etchings glowed similarly to the Heian-era sigils you'd seen in your studies.

"With that said, you can leave anytime, as this is a barrierless realm. If you exit without acknowledging it, it will cause 24 hours of what I call Toxic Empathy. Are we clear?"

"Yes," you both uttered in unison, consenting before sitting back on the couch. 

"Splendid! Now, please close your eyes so we can begin."

Kento followed your lead, closing his eyes once he saw you settle. You took shallow breaths to center yourself.

In a low tone, Ooitaishi spoke, "Memory Alpha."

There was a noticeable shift in the room. Temperature dropped by at least 15 degrees as a chill swept on the nape of his neck. Mumbles of small talk surrounded him as the familiar scent of overly artificial strawberry and bramble room deodorizer filled his nostrils with an unpleasant sting.

Nearby speaker hummed a song that felt like a distant memory: ‘Daremo Shiranai’ by Arashi.

"Gojo's?" Kento's eyes opened, and there it was: Gojo's apartment. Ambient lighting lined the spacious loft walls that were never really lived in but used occasionally for events like birthdays, meetings after official meetings, and that night's game festivities.

Kento looked around the room, fully accepting that the office had been transformed into some type of memory bank. His memory bank.

"So, Kento. It seems you're first up. Do you mind telling me why we're here?" Ootaishi smiled, sipping the cold lager beer that appeared on the side table next to her.

"Ken." You knew exactly where you were.

Clearing his throat, Kento perched himself on the edge of the couch as he saw his younger variant walk through the front door. "The night Shoko introduced us. When we first met."

November 15, 2014

"Nanamin!" Gojo leaped with a smile, waving him down from the crowded corner of people playing Jenga.

Waving back in hopes of not being bothered no more Kento considered himself saved as Shoko walked over. "Avoid eye contact. He's been drinking milk tea all day and won't shut up about beating you in Yahtzee. We've got more important things to do anyway." She brought her hand to Nanamis's shoulder, chauffeuring him to where you sat near the open balcony doors.

There you were, leg shaking as you looked out the nearby window before noticing the approaching duo. "She's like me. But probably with a little more patience. The perfect match, really." He was working with nothing other than you had the patience of a saint and apparently were able to get Shoko to stop smoking.

And while he wasn't a superficial nor religious man, he thanked every God above and below that you were also beautiful.

Your cashmere sweater fit you perfectly as you stood up to greet him.

"I'm back, and here's the friend I mentioned. This is Nanami." Shoko gave a look of approval as she gave Kento a slight nudge.

"Hey! It's a pleasure." He took your outstretched hand and firmly shook it.

"Nanami Kento. It's great to meet you. Shoko has told me nothing about you."

Your warm laugh sent a surge of serotonin through his chest.

"Seems she's great at keeping her lips shut." You sat back down, offering the chair next to you. "But it does give us plenty to talk about and get acquainted better."

Nanami slid his coat off, smiling as he hung it on the back of the chair and sat beside you.

"Of course. Like how that sweater you're wearing is lovely. Cashmere?"

"Yeah! I bought it while I was out in Scotland over the summer. Thank you. Big fan of fashion?" You questioned while grabbing the beer bottle from the table.

He grabbed the drink Shoko had set down for him while she observed you interacting as if it were a chaperoned date. "Not necessarily. I just prefer to buy for long-term use."

"Same! I'd rather spend the large amount on quality that'll last years than something I'll need to replace by the end of the season." A sip from the apple-flavored IPA soothed your throat before you continued. "Like, it's money, and I hate to be an incessant contributor to capitalism, so I want to at least be wise about where my money goes, yanno? Less consuming, more investing in things that can be seen as sustainable. Even if it's clothing, I suppose."

Sensible, financially aware, hates capitalism, knew to buy a cashmere sweater in Scotland.

'Let's hold off on the pedestal.' Kento internally tried his best to ignore the immediate fluttering of his heart as you spoke. 'Perfect match.'

Four hours. Kento sat in that uncomfortable chair talking with you about everything he could for four hours, from learning about your love of music theory and literature to your time in med school with Shoko. He told you about his passion for research, travel, advocacy, and the arts. Your shared love of cooking somehow brought you to discussing family lineage.

"So a distant relative to the woman who was the unfortunate victim of Noritoshi Kamo. That dates back to the-"

"Meiji period. It's an incredibly long story, but my father tried to keep up with that part of my family history for a long time."

"Do you keep in touch with the Kamo clan?"

Shaking your head confidently, you responded, "They try to reach out to me, but I'd rather not be associated for the time being. Bit of a weird conversation to have."

Kento noticed your slight disconnect from this part of the conversation, watching your eyes migrate to fixating on your bottle once you mentioned their recent attempt. Choosing not to pursue it any further, he instead focused on your features as the low lighting seemed to glow around you.

Kento felt a hint of glee for the first time in a long time. He realized you'd noticed him taking you in, and the corners of your mouth lifted.

"Shoko tells me you'll be joining us at Jujutsu High. She said you left the sorcery world but came back! You excited?"

"You'll also be there?" Kento lifted his brow, not realizing you'd actually be around him more than he expected.

"Oh, yes! It isn't a significant role, though. I'm a consultant and teaching some history courses. And will do field work when needed."

"History?"

"Cursed energy and ancient techniques. Pushed hard for it to be a class for all 2nd years." Were you really telling him that you had a history course on curses?

"I'll have to sit in on one of your classes then. Sounds like I could learn a lot from you."

The sound of Gojo imitating another party guest echoed across the room, making you cringe with a laugh as Kento shook his head with a plastered smile. "I have to admit, I was a little hesitant on this whole blind date idea."

"Dating can be challenging as it is." Taking the last swig of your ale before idly playing with the bottle's rim, you continued, "Adding the shroud of mystery can make it almost unbearable. But Shoko did mention that you were my perfect match."

"Perfect match?"

"Don't tell me she was wrong, Nanami Kento." Dripping with flirtation, the tone in which you said his name turned his ears red-hot.

When he leaned into you, Kento smiled at your poor attempt to hide your sudden, bashful reaction. "I guess we'll only find out if I take you on a proper date on Sunday, perhaps?"

"Only if you promise to wear this tie again. I like how the pattern complements the chestnut flecks in your gorgeous eyes."

Marble. A marble pedestal. Engraved with your name across the front. One of the world's many wonders that now prominently sits in the forefront of Kento's mind for however long you allow.

"I'll let you dress me. How does that sound?"

July 3, 2015

"Surprise!" You cheesed until your cheeks ached as you stood in Kento's dim living room. The sparkler candles sitting atop the chocolate croissant bread pudding you held acted as the secondary light source after the dimmed ceiling light as he walked toward you. "Happy birthday, Ken!"

Chuckling, Kento sat his briefcase on the couch, bewildered by your ambush. "Dove, what is this?"

"Oh!" Handing off the dish to Kento, you put a party blower to your mouth and blew into it with all your might. "A surprise!"

Kento savored a fleeting moment to take in the sight of his living room. Adorned with its usual neutral-toned furniture, it had been transformed by the addition of a striking balloon bouquet nestled in a corner. Glittery confetti scattered across the floor and coffee table, catching the radiant hues of the late sunset, while elegant streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, adding an extra layer of festivity. Coming back to you, his softened gaze met yours.

"As is tradition back at home, you now have to suffer through my rendition of 'Feliz En Tu Día.' Clearing your throat as you placed a party hat on Kento, you began to belt.

What was happening? Why was his pulse quickening as he watched you sing a song with everything in you? Why did he feel his body warm up from how you smiled waiting for him to make a wish for today and everyday after?

His wish was you. You today and everyday after.

Kento felt his heart pounding from how sweet you were to him. Effort that felt so genuine and done out of love, he was beginning to think he might have a stroke. "I—thank you." He blew out the candles with a quaint smile and set the bread pudding down before kissing you deeply. "You really did this for me when you didn't have to. I have a birthday every year."

"Listen, you only turn 25 once; you deserve to be celebrated on every birthday." You laid a warm kiss on his cheek and held him close. "I know Shoko's party on Saturday may not be your scene, so I wanted to do something intimate and special just for us."

Kento went in for another kiss, gentler this time. Your heated flesh invites the palms of his hands as they slide under your shirt, finding the soft flanks of your waist. It was the most courageous he'd felt as the fluttery feeling hit his chest. "I love you."

Seven months and two weeks ago. 230 days. Kento knew he’d fall in love with you the same night he met you when you decided that waiting until Sunday was too long to see him again. When he took you to his favorite izakaya and introduced you to the owners, who kept giving him the all-knowing "That's the one" look all night.

You sat close in his usual booth, telling him everything else that wasn't shared at the party. The same booth where you couldn't help but notice the overwhelming grief in his posture as he confided his reasons for why he had left the sorcery world once before. In those suffocating moments, you became his solace, reminding him to just breathe. You became his reason to stay, his undying love.

"You love me?"

"I love you."

Your pupils dilated while your stomach filled with butterflies. "I love you, Kento."

When you returned his feelings itf felt like he was experiencing everything for the first time. He felt more alive than ever. Every interaction led to the heart-thumping experience of your love. The sheer intensity of each emotion made it a time of joy and anxiety as the fear of losing this feeling became just as strong as the love itself.

Kento's actions from this point forward were to be charged with meaning. His heart, which had been in darkness for years, was now in your hands.

"Memory Alpha 2.33."

The distant memory of the dim living room shut into itself as Kento reawakened in the office. He immediately looked over to you, your eyes still closed, but tears stricken down your cheeks as if you'd been crying.

"Dove, you okay?" Anxiety coated his tone as you appeared to still be under the effects of the domain.

"She will come to in a moment, Nanami. I want to take this time to talk to just you."

Kento wasn't sure how therapy was supposed to go, but this seemed far from the usual protocol. He glanced back over at you.

"I promise you, she's safe," Ootaishi assured Kento, sharing a quick glance at your current state of mind to calm his anxieties. You were sitting beachside at sunset, engrossed in yet another article on creating the perfect greenhouse all year round. A beach chair was set beside yours, and his worn copy of "Antic Hay" awaited him.

A wistful smile graced his face. "Thank you."

"You care very deeply for her."

Kento kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth seemed to twitch into a smile. "She's my life."

"And so you choose to push your life away."

Kento's neck joints cracked as he turned back to face the therapist. "Excuse me?"

Ootaishi wrote something in her journal as Kento mentally torched a hole through her chest. "Your wife. You call her your life, yet we are here because your life is tired of being pushed away."

There goes his ring, feeling too small again.

"I'm not pushing her away."

"Then my apologies for assuming. What would you call what you're doing, Nanami?"

"I feel like we've reached a standstill in our marriage," he said, twisting the wedding band around his finger. The pinching sensation distracted from the undeniable truth of his feelings. “We've grown but in different directions. It's impacting our daily lives."

Ootaishi glanced at the talisman, the etchings now glowing a dull red. "It seems someone forgot about our honesty policy, Nanami."

A huff strong enough to blow off a roof exited Kentos' nose before dragging his hands down his face.

"It's clear that you are not ready to get to the real root of your problem, and that's okay. Healing is never linear, nor is it quick." Ootaishi took a few more notes and smiled before closing the journal. "But just for future reference, I prefer the method of you being honest with me, as I hate forcing myself into your psyche for the answer I need to resolve issues.”

Kento's jaw clenched as he sat up fully. There was a small, dare he say minuscule part of him that wished he could've just fessed up to why he was being a pussy. The chance was there; if nothing else, he appreciated how forward Ootaishi was to get him there.

But he wasn't ready to face the demons he knew needed to be slain before it was too late.

"Can you not mention this to her? It's not that I'm trying to keep anything from her—"

"You have my word, Nanami." She sat on the edge of her chair and looked over at you. "If you're ready, I can wake them up."

With a nod, Ootaishi intonated, 'Memory Alpha; end sequence,' and Kento watched closely as you slowly roused yourself.

"Welcome back." Ootaishi opened the curtains halfway and gave a warm, almost motherly smile as she looked at Kento and then at you. "Take some time to get adjusted to the room, and then we will end today's session."

"Thank you again for being so open to going back."

"I'm glad we did. It was better than I thought it would be. It was far more invasive than I realized." He crinkled his nose as he recalled the all-too-intrusive experience.

You both shared a chuckle as Kento walked you to the door.

"Yeah, it's a bit intense. But I've only heard of great results from Ootaishi, so I'll allow the invasion."

There was a lighter air between you as you neared the threshold.

"Did you want to come in for lunch? I've been marinating some eggplant in red curry. There's more than enough."

"Is that a good idea? I should give you some time to sort through today's session."

Eyes fluttered quickly as you were taken aback by the sudden compliance from Kento. "Is Nanami Kento actually taking the therapist's suggestions seriously?" It was apparent how impressed you were.

With a light chuckle, Kento shrugged as he looked at you. "I just want to show you how serious I am about everything. You deserve time to process today just like I do. But we can grab lunch soon."

"Lunch. Just tell me when."

"Absolutely."

The two of you stood together in the luminous hallway, the air heavy with unspoken words. The silence that enveloped you was strangely comforting. The faint sound of footsteps approaching the elevator shattered the peacefulness, jolting you both back to the present moment.

"I should get going, but let me know how the eggplant turns out. Tell both Shoko and Utahime I said hello."

"Will do. Let me know when you've made it home safely."

His hesitancy showed in the two steps he took towards you. Opting out of embracing you and instead kissing the top of your head and inhaling your scent.

"See you later, dove.”

“See you Monday, Ken.”

As the sun slips below the horizon, the golden light of the setting sun fades, leaving only the pale moonlight to illuminate the evening. In the silence of the late evening, Nanami sat in his den, deep in thought, attention focused on the quiet contemplation's of his mind. You.

The sound of his breathing was the only sound in the room, punctuated by the occasional rustling of pages as he fidgeted with the corners of his book.

The soft beams of moonlight cast shadows on the floor, the trees standing guard like looming sentinels against the glossy wood.

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m reading.” A deep, dispirited sigh left his lips as he read the same sentence for the eighth time. Mentally worn, Kento sat the book on the table and fell back in his chair, slouching as he closed his eyes to gather a bit of energy to get to bed.

“Come to bed, Ken. Your pillow is a real shit replacement for your chest.”

Hearing your voice in his head, he smiled as if you were in the room with him. Your low, sweet-as-saccharin voice filled his mind as he replayed your sweet sentiments to himself like he did every other night since splitting. Toying with the waistband until he was tired of trying to play coy with himself, he rubbed his growing erection through his pajamas.

“God.” His lips parted, sucking in a small breath as he thought of your scent. Your hand on his chest as he inhaled you that afternoon.

He freed his thick member, looking at a drip of precum before smearing it with his thumb.

“Tell me how you want me, Kento.”

His left hand gently massaged his balls while squeezing the head of his cock as your voice led him to stroke himself.

Slow strokes to copy how you pleasure him had his eyes rolling back as he envisioned your lips pressed against his neck. Your warm breath sending electricity down his spine, your slick cunt resting on his aching balls as you stroked him from above. “Faster. Please.”

His steady rhythm quickened, a long tug before he slid his hand up and down his length faster, the wet sounds of his slick shaft competing with the lewd moans that fell from his parted lips. You. The way you whimpered his name when his thumb rubbed over your clit. Your eyes full of hunger when he would only let the tip of his thick cock poke and prod at your eager, fluttering cunt. “Is this what you want, dove?” fucking every inch into his hand with brute force as if were your wetness.

“Not yet… fuck.” Kento slowed down, lightly tugging his taut balls from his form to stop himself from releasing.

Painstakingly slow, he watched his reddened cock head swell as his grasp tightened, sliding up and down his shaft again. He watched the way the veins in his right hand were accentuated with each squeeze of his cock. Recalling how his hands looked cradling your face as your nose met his pubic hair, taking every inch of him to send him into a crying mess.

Hair stuck to his forehead as his chest heaved, pumping quicker to satiate the flame that kept growing in his abs. Losing himself in the fierce desire for you. “Please let me cum, please. Please, dove.” Hips bucking at an unearthly pace with pathetic pants of desperation echoing as he felt his release hit its peak before he pulled his hands away.

He knows he won’t finish. He can’t finish. He watched his cock bounce and flinch freely while the sweat on his brow cooled him. A huff of frustration brought him back fully as he tucked himself back into his pants, trekking to the bedroom in silence.

You’d trained him to need you for that release. A cruel feat that he couldn’t even call a punishment because it was a self-inflicted disservice.

Settled into bed for the night, Kento checked his phone one more time. His lock screen lit up with the only photo Kento allowed to be taken right after his hospital stay post Shibuya. Your lips on his cheek as he gave the camera a shy smile, Gojo’s white hair peaking in from the bottom corner after a failed crop attempt.

Four months and a week: 128 days separated.

One day towards fixing what can be saved.

[dangermousie]

Something I really love - as I was discussing with @aysekira - is how the drama is subtly showing how messed up the polygamous wife/concubine system is.

You can see it of course vis-a-vis ML, who is a talented ambitious man held back by his birth in terms of his mother's (lack of) rank but it's even more stark with the regard of Lady Qiao's children. Her daughter has consistently been portrayed as scheming towards FL and almost caused her grievous harm but she's not a one-note villain (neither is her mother, but that's a separate topic.) She is a genuinely loving daughter to her mother and loving sister to her full blood brother - she is willing to sacrifice for them both. We don't see the brother much but he also seems a loving son to his mother and brother to his full blood sister. It is quite clear by now that in a monogamous family situation, both the siblings and the mom would have behaved decently enough and had a loving enough family unit. They are warped by the family.

And Lady Qiao - she may be awful in many ways but she is a deeply loving, sacrificing mother for her children (more than can be said for her "noble" husband.) She'd have been fine in a different situation. And she has a valid grudge - scumbag dad promised to marry her as a legitimate wife before he married FL's mom. And then to promote her before he married wife n2. And did neither. Now, his mother objected but (a) that is why you should not promise if you know you won't be able to carry it out or (b) then you should fight to fulfill what you promised. No wonder she's bitter.

That is a household full of messed up, wounded, unhappy people - there is a reason that the most functional and happy member of the family is FL who lived apart since childhood.

The only one truly happy is the dad - his first and second wives had a bad time, Lady Qiao did too, his children all suffered at one time or another but he? He's got a woman he fancies, another woman who pays for it all, and he's the boss. All those miserable people and the only beneficiary is him.

And the thing is - any family can have issues, bad spouses, golden child/scapegoat dynamics, but when you have polygamous marriages of mad power imbalance, it supercharges the potential for it all. Take ML - he is a smart, properly- behaved dude. But his mother's status is what it is, and dad doesn't like him so he's basically at the bottom of the family hierarchy. And granny doesn't like him either - she claims it's because he was not an endearing child (which btw is insane - your own biological child or grandchild doesn't have to earn your love - they should be loved just because they exist; not to mention to be able to coax adults just so in his situation would be a sign of manipulative sociopathy, not awesomeness.) But she also doesn't try hard either - she actually seems largely indifferent to all her grandkids male and female except for FL -and in a status type polygamous society where other women are in favor or have higher status and thus their children do - unless he has someone powerful (in terms of within the family) in his corner, he's screwed and that is viewed as totally acceptable - he even learns in secret!

It's pretty telling that his position in the family only starts slowly changing when the favorite granddaughter, and the most high status one, stands up for him and decides to be in his corner. I do love watching him being gradually dragged into the family and softening because FL is making some other members like him more - when the story starts there is nobody in that fam he can do more than tolerate - he views them, understandably, as a bunch of unpleasant strangers he dwells with. But by now he loves FL, he likes sixth miss and little uncle and stepmom and while he doesn't like grandma he'd protect her because she's important to FL. He is a sane person who treats others well if they treat him well, but he is not gonna care for someone just because they are blood.

One last point - I love that he finally has someone who puts him first. FL consistently aims to protect him and to take care of him (whether in the physical try to cover him during an attack way or metaphorical - working to put him on the registry - the way he can't believe it and yet she does and he watches her work on it methodically!) but also she views him as someone smart and capable and someone she should learn things like calligraphy from - for someone who's been viewed as the bottom of the totem pole to be viewed as competent (and in the traditional status subjects at that) and someone who should be teaching her is actually pretty huge. When he teaches her calligraphy, she tries to wheedle out of work and what not but even doing that is implicitly acknowledges that he has authority in the subject (because she could always be - you can't make me, who are you.)

Anyway, to get back to dad, I hope he rots!

[venusvity]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍒✧˚.⋆ UR MY BABY! HELLO, I'M BAEBI!

cw: sexualization + controlling company

  JUNG YOONAH took on the stage name BAEBI in 2018 upon her debut with VENUS and the world was never the same.

Baebi would take the world by storm with her solo debut the same year Venus would debut, sparking much discussion among fans over favoritism, a debate that still rages today. But who cares about favoritism when the music is good? Bubble Pop! Would take the Kpop world by storm, becoming the song of the summer.

It peaked at number two on South Korea's Gaon Album Chart and charted atop the US Billboard World Albums. As of 2023, it has sold 560,000 copies in South Korea. 

Bubble Pop! 's commercial success was the main contributor to Angelico Entertainment's leading music sales. The song peaked at number one in South Korea, where it has sold over 2.5 million digital units. To accompany her solo release, Baebi held a series of small concerts called Baebi's Summer Splash. She was awarded Best Female Artist at the 2018 Mnet Asian Music Awards and at the 2019 Golden Disk Awards.

Chart data is boring. Let's talk about something else.

Returning just a few months later with the mini album "Tell Me More" and a title track of the same name, fans grew slightly more concerned over Yoonah's concept as a soloist. According to her most dedicated fans, her sound and look were very mature, very sensual, and bordering on sexual, which didn't really match Yoonah's character.

No one would be shocked at the music and content Baebi would be releasing when looking at her creative team:

The Son Brothers, Jinhwa and Roan, would be the proud creative directors behind all of Baebi's solo work. Bubble Pop! would be Son Roan's, later turned CEO of Angelico after his brother departed from the label to become CEO of Mydol, Angelico's now parent company, first project in the Kpop realm.

"I like working with Baebi because she's something different than what you're used to seeing from the other idols out there. You can do things with Baebi you can't normally do with other idols and I find that very exciting." – Son Roan when asked about the Baebi brand in 2020.

2020 Baebi hit a career-high with her mini album "Glassdoor" and the lead single, Gashina. This song was everywhere, but even more to an extent, no Angelico artist had ever seen. Baebi was an international sensation. She'd go on a mini world tour as a soloist, the first and only Venus member to do so, promoting internationally, being the first soloist under Angelico to do so internationally.

A point of contention in Baebi's career is the botched release of her first full album, "Hello Baebi!" with the poorly promoted single, Hello. When Baebi was coming back, you knew about it, your friends knew about it, your mama knew about it, hell, even your grandma knew about it. For Hello Baebi? Not a peep. Even Baebi fans were confused when Ktown4u posted a pre-order poster for the album before Angelico even posted teasers. Which, mind you, she only got four photo teasers and a single video trailer for a full album.

When the comeback happened, promotions only lasted for two weeks, something unheard of for Baebi and the outfits? Fresh off the Forever21 rack. The stages? Bare. Nothing. The MV? Budget cut in half. Something wasn't right...Then when you looked at the album credits, neither of the Son brothers were anywhere to be seen. The entire album was made by Baebi herself, something she shared often on her Instagram or during the few interviews she did during this era.

Either way, Hello Baebi, her one cute era completely controlled by her, was deemed a flop and the Son brothers used that to their advantage, taking full creative control over Baebi's image again.

Which is where Touch came in.

Touch was noted for its overtly sexual music video, on-the-nose sexual lyrics, and latex outfits Baebi would promote in. The single, which was, of course, promoted ions better than Hello Baebi!, was phenomenally on the charts and in sales, "proving" that the mature concept is what people wanted from Baebi. At least, that's Jinhwa's belief.

Baebi's release after Touch would be a mini album titled "Stupid B—" with the promoted track TWIT. Fans that worried for Baebi would be soothed by this less sexual yet mature concept and the actual look of enjoyment on Yoonah's face when performing the song, something that seemed to be lacking when she was performing Touch.

After a year break from solo activities, Baebi would come back swinging in 2024 with her second full album, "Choke On It," and the title track LIPLOCKER, which was a hit, of course. Though the concept was leaning more toward sexual than mature, Baebi seemed more comfortable performing and actually had fun during this promotional period. She'd go on to say that LIPLOCKER was her favorite comeback since Hello Baebi!, which fans are hesitant to believe, but whatever makes her happy!

[inkpetrichor]

Muse | Azumane Asahi x f!reader

1.-Artist's block. masterlist here<3

cw. a little angsty, use of y/n, the ukai/sakanoshitas being lovely<3

an. Happy new years everyone! And happy birthday to my favorite ace and #1 fictional husband Azumane Asahi!!

wc. 4.3k

Drawing had always been your best coping mechanism. Anatomy sketches, doodles, scenery painting. Ever since your grandpa had gifted you your first sketchbook, you had poured yourself onto the paper, finding in it a peaceful, harmless way to deal with emotional pain—marking paper instead of skin.

It had saved you, in a way. This newfound skill, refined with time and dedication, became your lifeline.

Life in Tokyo had been one of the darkest times of your life. Living with your parents would have killed you—slowly, like a houseplant deprived of light and water, silently withering in the corner of a dark living room, incapable of providing for itself what should be provided for it.

Your grandpa saved you. Taking you away from your parents the moment he realized how badly you were hurting, how badly they were hurting you. He took you under his wing and assured you everything was settled—that you would never have to go back to Tokyo again.

Unsurprisingly, your parents didn't even fight to keep you with them. And while that hurt a little, it didn't surprise you. You tried to convince yourself that you weren't really attached to them either. There wasn't anything there to be attached to, really. Only the crushing weight of their expectations and absolutely zero affection.

You tried to find a memory from your childhood where you felt the warmth of their love, maybe a kiss to your forehead or a bedtime story, but the "child memories" drawer in your mind was almost sealed shut.

You were certain they had never truly loved you. They were probably relieved that someone else would take what they saw as a burden off their hands. You had never been good enough for them. That plant wasn't pretty enough to care for. 

And yet, under the Ukai and Sakanoshita household, you bloomed. Your grandpa put a sketchbook in your hands, food in your belly, and a warm family unit that actually felt like family around you. You were infinitely grateful for it.

You could feel the love they had for each other in this household. They would occasionally engage in playful banter with each other, like they actually got along, not just the typical family politeness where respect is law far above love. And everyone from your uncle to his wife, even their son Keishin, had assumed the responsibility to give you a home without expecting anything in return.

Your uncle's wife treated you the way you assumed an actual mother would, even though you weren't related to her. She was sweet and spoke to you softly, almost as if she was afraid of scaring you away—she was— You knew this was special treatment since you'd heard her nagging her son, every now and then, being far more severe with him than she ever was with you.

She always made sure you felt comfortable and acted as your personal guardian when you first arrived, ensuring everyone respected your space. You were skittish at first, and the Ukai family could be a little... intense. For the first week or so, you barely left the improvised room they'd given you while they set everything up.

And set things up they did.

Behind the Sakanoshita store stood a "Kura" storehouse, a large, traditional structure about the size of a small garage. You weren't sure what they used to store there or where it went once you arrived, but by the time you came to the Sakanoshita house, your grandpa, uncle, and cousin were already hard at work adapting it into a livable space.

"I don't like the idea," your aunt complained over dinner one evening after the men had finished working on it for the day. "It's too dark in there, and she'll be all alone. Besides, my grandma used to say people locked their children in there as punishment back in the day. It feels cruel."

Your uncle sighed, setting his plate of freshly served takikomi gohan down.

"That was way back in the Edo period, love. We can't have her sleeping in such a small room forever. She needs a bigger space."

"And besides! We've already started building; you should've said something sooner," Keishin added, sitting down and immediately talking through a mouthful of food.

You looked up from your warm, savory plate and smiled at your aunt as she cupped her face in her hand, brows furrowed, clearly unconvinced.

"I genuinely don't mind where I sleep. If it's small or dark, even if it's cold or humid, I'll still be grateful for it," you said, hoping to calm her worries.

Instead, your words seemed to have the opposite effect. For one, everyone looked at you in shock, as this was the first time you'd said more than a soft "thank you," "good morning," or "good night" since arriving. And second, your aunt's worried expression deepened with sorrow. You felt a flicker of panic, thinking you had somehow offended her with your words.

"Y/N, please don't speak like that. You're part of this family now, so it's important that you live well and comfortably. Besides, these are your last years of high school—equal parts fun and responsibility. You need to be well to do well."

Her words, though tinged with sadness, filled you with a warmth you weren't used to but would grow into soon enough.

After all, it's hard to feel cold when surrounded by warmth.

Your uncle nodded in agreement with his wife.

"That's just another reason why the Kura is perfect—she needs space and privacy."

Your aunt turned to argue again, a soft "but..." leaving her lips before Grandpa Ukai's voice interrupted.

"The Kuras weren't only used for bad things," he stated with his usual serious, matter-of-fact tone, not looking up from his plate. "Royals originally built them to protect their valuables and other precious things."

Even if his words seemed cold and emotionless, there was deep tenderness within them. Maybe he didn't intend it, but he had implied you were something to be valued and protected. It even seemed to convince your aunt, as she dropped the subject after that.

You didn't dare look at her face, though. You quickly looked down at your plate as soon as you felt your eyes grow hazy with tears of deep, joyful gratitude.

You quickly learned your grandpa was probably the sweetest man alive. It was easy to warm up to him, and even easier to see why the entire household was so loving. He might have looked scary or intimidating, but behind that cold attitude and coarse facial features was a deeply caring, kind man.

For starters, he had quite literally rescued you—taking you from the place that was killing you emotionally and putting you in a place that nurtured and cared for you. He showed you that drawing and art—something you already enjoyed a little but had never devoted much time or effort to—could be the perfect way to help yourself. To distract you from dangerous urges, to put your feelings on paper, to visualize.

Drawing required you to look up, to look inside, to look beyond. It demanded that you see past your mental fog. And the moment he realized you had replaced your self-destructive mechanism with art, he quickly placed even more art into your hands.

All sorts of supplies: canvases, acrylics, oils, art books, art lessons at the community center. He even asked you to paint him some landscapes under the excuse that "his house was looking empty and old." And nothing made you feel better than seeing Ikkei Ukai—a harsh-looking man who would never sugarcoat—genuinely love your paintings.

It built you up, sketch by sketch. Painting by painting. Like building blocks reconstructing a dark, forgotten Kura storage and turning it into a home.

Art was working. It was healing you. And once he noticed this, once you were slowly coming out of your shell and blooming into life again, he showered you with everything you needed to transform this hobby—this coping mechanism—into a lifeline. A ladder to climb your way out of the cave, the tomb where you had been buried and told to call home.

You didn't need that "home" anymore. You didn't believe in it. You had an actual home now. He had given you not only a place where you could be helped but also a tool to help yourself.

When he fell ill and was hospitalized, everyone in the Sakanoshita house watched you closely, as if expecting you to crash, to wither again. But you stayed strong. The thought of not letting their efforts—the time, money, and care they'd spent on you—go to waste kept you firm and focused on what you did best: art.

You painted and drew landscapes for him in the hospital, using the traditional Japanese style you knew was his favorite. Landscapes of the Sakanoshita store, the farm, his own garden, his own house. So he wouldn't forget the place he had to return to. They were reminders that silently said, "Get well soon. You need to come back home."

In a way, you kept each other in check. You kept your grandpa in the hospital, getting better, and he kept you in line with your own recovery. You didn't want to worry him, and he didn't want to worry you. You helped each other. You used that tool—art—in every way you knew it could help.

So naturally, when that tool started failing you, when the dreaded artist's block you'd heard of and feared so much finally arrived, it came as a grim reminder. Creativity was not an infinite resource.

And in its absence, you felt the beast that had once been your friend stir in her slumber, threatening to wake. She wasn't dead, only dormant.

And she was hungry.

"What if it gets bad again?"

"What if I get worse again?"

"What if I get worse again and they send me back?"

"What if I can't give back to them what they gave to me, and that causes them to resent me and discard me?"

"Me. Them. This."

"I don't wanna lose this. I don't want to lose them."

"Draw. Draw. Please draw. More landscapes, more."

It was different, though. It wasn't enough. Landscapes were good, but they didn't feed the beast; they didn't put her to sleep like they once had. And somehow, where you once found yourself in front of a seemingly never-ending ocean of ideas to put on paper, there was now a drought-stricken view of your imagination—dry and hot, burning your naked feet raw where you stood.

And the beast was starting to bite the bars of its cage, threatening to swallow you whole once again.

Finding solace in the written word of a good book was an okay coping mechanism. An okay replacement tool. But it worked even better when you had the presence of a certain someone there too.

Azumane Asahi exuded a sort of aura that made you relaxed. Everything about him, from his huge frame and strong facial features in perfect contrast with his infinitely softer demeanor, had your heart in a knot and made the once-scary beast in you purr like a cat while you were in his presence. He made you feel at home like the Ukai family did. He made that library you both shared feel like a sanctuary. Not quite like home, but enough. And even if, at the beginning, you tried to deny it, and even if it confused you, you were self-aware enough to know you were starting to fall for him. Hard.

Because how could you not?

At the beginning of your third year, he started showing up less, though. And you could tell something was bothering him. Your eyes would find him in class—as usual—and they would find him deep in thought, with his brows furrowed and eyes foggy, like he was somewhere else, like he was reminiscing about something, something that hurt. It's not just about what you saw, but about what you felt in that moment—a sense that something was unsettled within those warm, soft eyes. They seemed to carry a weight, like a shadow that words couldn't mask, something you could feel was bothering the tender smile he gave you every morning, making it falter.

And then the kouhais.

One morning, right before class, you were coming back from your little sanctuary—that felt less and less like one every time he wouldn't show up—just to find him standing right outside the classroom, talking to two first-years. He looked a little taken aback, as one of them—a tiny ginger one—was expressively trying to get his point across, talking with his hands and his whole body. You could tell he was small but full of passion. As you got closer, the bell rang, and the tall, dark-haired classmate that was with him lightly slapped him in the back of the head, encouraging him to leave. The ginger started walking away, looking very disappointed, and the tall one turned to Asahi and said one last thing.

"You don't win alone. That's just how it is. That's why there are six other players on the court. I didn't realize that till recently, so I'm not one to talk. Excuse me," he said, then politely bowed and walked away. You silently made your way to Asahi and tried to scoot behind him to get into the classroom.

"Excuse me..." you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. But he didn't seem to.

He didn't take his eyes off the duo that had just been talking to him, and there it was again. That fog in his eyes. That distant, almost haunted quality to them, as if he was reliving a moment he wished he could forget—or one he wished he could go back to, though you weren't really sure.

The pain lingered just beneath the surface, visible in the way his gaze softened, seeing something only he could. It was the kind of look that told a story without words—a memory that still hurt too much to speak aloud.

Your heart felt a little tight seeing him like that. You allowed your fingers to brush lightly against his back, feeling the texture of his school blazer and the warmth of his body under your fingertips. 

"Azumane-san. Are you okay?"

He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked down at you with wide eyes, slightly embarrassed to be caught in deep thought.

"A-ah... Yeah, don't worry. Just thinking," he said, scratching the back of his neck and averting his gaze. His lips curled up, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It lingered there, a practiced gesture—just wide enough to look convincing. The feeling in your chest was so different from that usual warmth his smiles gave you. You didn't buy it. And he seemed to realize you didn't buy it, as his expression turned a little anxious. However, you nodded, giving him an understanding smile.

"I see... Well then, class is starting."

"Don't worry, Azumane. I won't pry," is what your smile seemed to say. And he seemed to get the message, immediately relaxing again. Still looking a little uncomfortable at the fact his cover was blown off so easily, but appreciative of your respect.

"Right..."

It was bittersweet. How desperately you wanted to be near him, talk to him, know more about him—and how little progress you had made in the month you shared the library with him almost every day. It's not like you were doing any active efforts to get closer to him, though. But you just didn't know how to approach him. He was clearly a rather private person, so you were afraid of crossing unspoken boundaries and driving him away.

You sighed and clutched the book you were holding to your chest. Even from the door to the library, you could tell he wasn't there. Another no-show. You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you and turn into frustration as you turned away from the library and decided to just go home for the day.

You still hadn't drawn a single thing, and the book you were reading wasn't helping either. You sighed again as you walked out of the school, and as you walked down the hill toward the Sakanoshita store, and again as you entered it. You didn't realize you were doing it, though. It was more of a compulsion, something your body did on its own, probably to ground itself.

You might not have noticed doing it, but a sharp-eyed blond behind the counter sure did. And he wasted no time shifting his perceptive gaze from the sports magazine he was reading to you.

"Another tough day?" he asked, making you stop in place and give him a confused look.

He rested his magazine on the counter and the lit cigarette on his lips, propping his face on a closed fist, observing you with prying eyes. With his other hand, he lazily pointed at the door. "Every day you cross that doorframe with heavy feet, and sighing all gloomy-like." Keishin mocked your "gloomy-like" walk through the door as he spoke, and your cheeks warmed a bit in embarrassment. "Which means... something has been bothering you."

You let out a defeated sigh and nodded, finding no use in trying to hide your frustration since he was so sure and so right about it. Keishin raised an eyebrow at you, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Have you been drawing?"

"No... Not for lack of trying, though."

"I see... so it's like that, huh?" He lay back in his chair and returned to his magazine. His demeanor seemed carefree, but his eyes still flicked to you attentively. "It happens sometimes, kid. Every artist goes through it. It'll eventually go away, and you'll be able to draw again."

"Sure. But how? How do I make it go away?" Your voice betrayed the pent-up frustration you had been feeling, but if Keishin noticed, he didn't show it.

"Well, I don't know—I'm no artist. Take a walk around the farm, look at nature and whatnot. Look at your surroundings, find something to inspire you I dunno."

"You know, that's actually a great idea..." His eyes returned to the magazine as he gave you a triumphant smile.

"Heh. Is it? Look at me, the wise older cousin... Now go, you're on pork bun duty today. The ones you make sell a lot better." The praise cheered you up a little, and Keishin smiled to himself at how easy it was to see what you were thinking.

"They do?"

"Uh-huh."

The confirmation only made you cheerier, making you forget a bit about your frustration. You hurried to your room to change so you could get to work on those buns.

The next day, you followed Ukai's advice to a tee.

You tried to look at everything around you attentively. Went for walks around the school building instead of going to the library, stared at the flowers the gardening club had planted around the yard, and tried to study their colors. You looked at the little bees and butterflies fluttering around, enjoying the spring's warmth and abundance. You even tried to conjure some haikus in your head about spring and sakura trees or anything and everything that could inspire you. But sadly, it didn't seem to be working.

Staring at your sketchbook at the end of the school day, you still couldn't think of anything to draw. Nothing of substance, at least. You drew little doodles of bees and butterflies, and the gardening club's tulips, but instead of helping, you found yourself growing more and more frustrated.

The beast growled, reminding you of her presence, her hunger. You closed your sketchbook and tried to calm yourself, calm the frustration, clenching your teeth as you took a deep breath through your nose.

"Okay! Time for another walk!" you said out loud, standing up and moving. You were determined not to let the frustration consume you.

As you walked around, your mind started drifting to Asahi. The moment his face appeared in your mind, you could feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy, making you embarrassed.

His face in your mind was an uninvited but always welcome, recurring thought. Azumane was an incredibly gentle soul; you could tell that by the way he spoke, his expressions, his body language, and especially his eyes when he looked at you. Even though it didn't help your attempts at not falling for him, you couldn't help but observe and analyze him whenever he was around you, studying him, willingly putting on those rose-tinted glasses. The beauty in him was so apparent to you, so attractive. There was nothing unlovable about him.

You missed him.

You missed his comforting presence next to you while you both read. You missed the small conversations you occasionally had about books or about homework. You missed his deep yet soft voice, which made your heart beat faster every time he'd laugh or stutter.

You missed him.

And then you heard him.

"SUGAAAAA!!! ONE MORE!"

In your trance, you made your way to the school gym without realizing it. And as you passed right outside the gym door, his scream made you jump in place and stop dead in your tracks. You never heard him scream; you were surprised your gentle giant could even do that. But you were sure it was him. You recognized his voice. Your pulse quickened, and your stomach tied itself in knots—anxiety or excitement, you couldn't tell—as you peeked inside to watch what was happening.

When you spotted Azumane on the court, you held your breath. There he was, mid-air, ready to hit the ball. It was like time froze. And suddenly everything fell into place.

You felt an electric current flowing all over your body. From the top of your head to the tips of your fingers, an electric current that begged you to grab your pencil and sketchbook and get to work. That inspiration you had been missing filled you suddenly and fully, just by looking at him in the air, spiking the ball.

It was like you were standing in the middle of a vast, uncharted desert before, where the limits of your imagination stretched in front of you.

Then suddenly, Azumane was hitting the ball, powerful and loud, and the terrain before you was alive again, vivid and navigable. All the shapes, colors, and concepts that were once elusive, that escaped you, were now a coherent vision—a vision you could put on paper, a vision you could turn into art.

You felt an urgency to draw, to create. To get home and doodle away this intense feeling.

You wanted to draw him.

Everything, from his determined and focused expression taking over the face that so often looked nervous and unsure, his muscular arms, which might as well be considered artillery weapons judging by the sound the ball made when it hit the opposite side of the court and how the three blockers couldn't possibly stop it, to the toned legs that helped him cushion the fall of his jump like the springs of a perfect machine.

You weren't looking at his body in a particularly lewd way, but more like how you look at an already finished, already perfected work of art, deserving of a place in the most prestigious of museums. Your heart was racing even though you weren't breathing, holding onto that first inhale like a lifeline, and your fingers clung to the door as you watched with wide eyes. 

You needed to draw him.

After the powerful spike, his feet were back on the floor and his teammates seemed to congratulate him. You just couldn't stop staring at him.

And if you weren't so hypnotized by your big fat crush on this man, you would have noticed some familiar faces from the Neighborhood Association, or maybe you would have seen a freckled guy notice your presence and approach you with a confused look in his eyes.

"Um... excuse me... Who are you?" he asked politely.

You snapped back to reality, the crash of your adrenaline shock hitting you like a cold slap in the face. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out, and you felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you looked behind you to where Azumane was staring right back at you with wide, dumbfounded eyes.

"I-I..." You jumped in place again, jolting at the sound of the gym door being violently pushed open. Just to get even more disoriented when you saw none other than Keishin Ukai looking back at you with his own set of confused eyes.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked. And luckly, you could feel the confusion replace your embarassment a little. "What are you doing here? And who's- oh, hello, Shimada-san" you offered a polite smile to Keishin's friend as you recognized him, and he gave you a polite yet confused nod back. You turned back to your relative with furrowed brows "Who's watching the store?" Keishin lift an eyebrow down at you.

"My mom." he sighed and motioned you to go inside the gym. "It doesn't matter, come in and wait for me here, we'll leave together when this is done." He turned to the court and clapped his hands once. "Sorry about that everyone, let us continue." You entered the gym with a bow and an apology, and you avoided Asahi's eyes as you sat on the floor next to where Ukai and a teacher you recognized as Tanaka-sensei were standing. You could feel his eyes on you, and you couldn't find it in yourself to meet his gaze. It's not like he knew you were practically spying on him, if anything it looked like you had come to meet your relative, who so happened to be the coach. But that didn't really helped you feel less of a creep.

And yet, the feeling of guilt was occuping only a small portion of your head as the vast mayority of it was overwhelmed by the need to draw. So you pulled out your sketchbook and pencil and numbed out the sorrounding sounds as you worked your magic like you used to do.

It was easy again, natural. You could barely hear the sounds of Ukai and Tanaka-sensei talking about the match and the players, you could barely hear the shoes on the court floor, or the ball hitting the floor. But there was a particular sound you quickly learnt to recognize. The strong "boom" of a particularly strong spike, that only pushed you to draw more, like the drum that marked your tempo. You felt Keishin's eyes on you, but you didn't mind them, too absort in your sketching to look up.

"No more art block then?"

You shooked you head softly and hummed. "No more." You could hear his smile as he answered to you.

"That's good."

I know we saw too little of him on this chapter, but don't you worry cause next one will have lots. Next chapter↪

[aclowntiny-ficrecs]

Seventeen Fic Recs Masterlist

♡All Members♡

Seventeen Taking Care of You on Your Period- @babyleostuff

How Seventeen Would Kiss Their S/O- @boosari

When He Thinks of You- @cheolism

How Seventeen Would Propose (F!Reader)- @sunnylovespickles

Reaction to Their S/O’s Grandma Hobbies- @fairyhaos

♱Units♱

Performance Unit as Times of Day- @i-aoba (link to reblog because OP deactivated :((( )

Vocal Unit with Your Cat- @babyleostuff (another absolute favorite 🥺🥰)

♡Individual Members♡

Whatever You Say (S.Coups x GN!Reader SMAU)- @thepixelelf

Holding You (Jeonghan x GN!Reader)- @synthetickitsune

You are My Kingdom (Jun x GN!Reader, Royalty AU)- @fairyhaos

Soonyoung x Library Worker (Hoshi x GN!Reader, College AU)- @wqnwoos

Shopping with Hoshi!- @etherealyoungk

[6:47] (Woozi x GN!Reader)- @hanniehaee

[16:33 PM] (Woozi x GN!Reader)- @fairyhaos

Mission: Return Jacket (DK x GN!Reader SMAU)- @feltednettles

Minghao Proposal Thoughts- @hanniedream

Gossip Session (Husband!Seungkwan x Reader, Dad AU)- @wooahaes

Mission Possible (Seungkwan x F!Reader, Elementary Teacher AU)- @thepixelelf

First Kiss with Seventeen- Seungkwan- @etherealyoungk

Seungkwan's Possessive/Protective Side- @wonwoosthetic

BF!Seungkwan Thoughts- @mickeyboos

Mutuals (Vernon x GN!Reader SMAU One-Shot)- @woozvc

Chan as Your Boyfriend- @frenshushutoast

Your First Kiss With Seventeen: Chan- @etherealyoungk

[edutainer2022]

An angsty Bereznik-timeline-Jeff story snuck up on me. I got to write it out in the campus bomb shelter, awaiting the strike of Dagger-class missiles. But in the end, a glimmer of hope won over. As always, many thanks go to @janetm74 for incessant support.

MESSAGE

Colonel Tracy walked up to the GDF Headquarters. It was the military training, a familiar grid to fall back on, that got him there. Not through it. Nothing could get him through it. But he kept his back ramrod straight, looked ahead with glassy eyes, put one foot in front of the other and got there. Jeff Tracy was summoned to collect Captain Tracy's, status updated to KIA, personal effects, sent from the Airbase, so Colonel Tracy reported on time, as told. Because Jeff Tracy, the father, wasn't available. Captain Tracy's father, previously Scott Tracy's, Scooter's, and Scotty's father, was prostrate, still and numb, all out of voice or tears, or wits, or strength, or a will to go on, over the charred remains of an F-18 fighter jet, somewhere on the outskirts of a thick Moravian forest. Indefinitely.

They could have just mailed Scott's things home to Kansas, but for some reason his old combat friends Lord Hugh and Major* Casey were adamant he came in person. Not that there could be much classified about well-worn Yale t-shirts, a dress uniform and spare fatigues, faded jeans, Scott's favorite running shoes and, it could be presumed, a copious number of snapshots of little brothers over the years Captain Tracy kept in his locker and in every available pocket at all times. But his friends (and the boy's superiors) insisted, so he showed up. The empty hull of him, at least. It became apparent why when Lord Hugh offered him a seat and entered a personal passcode into a secure comm unit. Val Casey's face was stricken with anguish. Through the cotton cloud of numbness Jeff could distantly register his heart constrict - he could hardly process any more agony those days. Already hit and anticipating a takeover, Scott managed to send out the last message. Jeff knew the drill since the last war: the pilot would access a unique classified frequency they were to use only once - when chances of survival were zero to none. The message was to contain whatever usable intel the pilot could offer on the ground behind enemy lines. It would be recorded into a cloud, scrambled and bounced off different servers so as to not give away the pilot's or the jet location. Jeff was summoned to be played the "unclassified" portion of Scott's last ever holocall. He took Hugh up on his offer of the seat as his knees buckled.

Dark curls were plastered to the boy's forhead, drenched in sweat. Or maybe blood. Scott's face was covered in soot and there was a gush over his brow, but even that combined with the bluish tint of the holo couldn't hide the pallor.

"Hi, guys!"

The ready smile, ever there when Scott was talking or thinking of his brothers, faltered. Haunted eyes squeezed shut briefly against a painful grimace and reappeared, brimming with moisture.

"God! I love you all so much I wish I could just message my heart to you! Allie..."

His son's face mellowed at the mention of the baby brother and in an instant it was Lucy's hologram in a torn and blooded flightsuit, shivering from strain and emotion. And onsetting shock. Val Casey by his side was crying openly.

"Allie! You be good for me, alright?! Listen to Dad and Grandma! Know that I'll always be there for you! ALWAYS! Gordie, you go on training! I'm so proud of you! Go get 'em, Squiddo! Johnny... I know, I know... but hey! I get big brother perks! You're so smart, kid, you can do anything! I'll see you in the stars, I KNOW you'll make astronaut! Virg... Virgie, you listen to me - don't let ANYONE doubt you! Least of all yourself! You do what your heart feels right, ok? I believe in you, brother! Gosh, I could just hug you lot and never let go!"

Jeff's knuckles were white, his grip on the edge of the conference table so tight he could snap a slab off. The expression on the holo-tinged face shifted to something hesitant and so, so impossibly young.

"Dad! I'm so sorry! I let you down... I know you needed me for the Project. It's gonna be AWESOME! Dad... I'm scared... I love you!"

An explosion off screen distorted the signal and the feed was cut off. Jeff was on his feet by then, a flimsy office chair kicked to the side. That didn't last long, though, as he reached both hands to the empty space where a gossamer image of his son just revealed feeling guilty and afraid, all alone, seconds before dying. In a place he ended up only following in his father's footsteps. Jeff's battle with consciousness and gravity was lost before it even started and the hardwood floor rushed close in a flash.

***

[He was in the hallway of their Kansas farmhouse when a flash of auburn practically collided with his chest. Lucy was winded, eyes wild, hands twisting his shirt in a frantic grip.

"Have you found him?! I just checked the treehouse - he's not there! Jeff, we need to find him before dark! It will be too late!!"

He grasped his wife's shoulders instinctively to calm her, but Lucy was adamant, stepping out of his embrace.

"New plan! I'll take the basement - you go on and check the barn! We need to find Scotty!"

With that she was gone, feet pounding down the stairs. He took his cue and went out to the old barn. It was empty. Dark was gathering in the corners, making the bits and pieces of equipment look distorted, grotesque. Menacing. He knew better than just to call the boy's name. Overwhelmed or upset, or tired - little Scooter could hide with the best of them. He searched the nooks and crannies, checked beneath the crates, then made his way to the back wall. It was then that he heard the scream. His son's voice, calling for him. Pleading for Dad's help from beyond the wall. Old wood turned to dark filthy bricks beneath his fists as he tried to let the boy know Dad was there. No matter how hard he flung himself against the wall - it didn't budge as the voice calling to Dad got fainter.]

***

He came to Lord Hugh and Casey propping him from both sides, helping to sit up. Val's gaze was full of worry and reprimand.

"Hey, Jeff! Easy! When was the last time you ate anything? Slept?"

He didn't have time for any such nonsense! Sleep or sustenance stopped being remotely meaningful concepts since they told him his son was dead. But now? He needed to be in a hurry! The vice grip on his friend's hand made the usually cast iron Lord wince. Jeff needed to get up and rush. He needed to go find his son! Before it was too late!

----

*Sometimes I headcanon Casey (and maybe Lee Taylor) might have been demoted a rank for participating in a very off the books (and maybe not entirely smooth) black op of getting Scott out of Bereznik captivity.

[guxciestone]

✧ CELEBRITY BIRTH CHART ANALYSIS ✧

— amy winehouse.

next in the birth chart analysis series is one of my favorite music artists, amy winehouse 🥀👩🏻‍🦱 i’ve always been fascinated with her—her life, style, and music. she’s literally everything and she was truly a unique and beautiful woman. i would like to show my appreciation for her existence and legacy by analyzing her chart ✨🖤

note: i do not know any of the celebrities i do readings on personally, i just like to decipher things. not everything has to be accurate.

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✨👠 Amy Jade Winehouse was born on September 14, 1983 in Enfield, United Kingdom at 10:25pm. Amy Winehouse was a famous musician who gained popularity in 2003 from her debut album “Frank”, leading song being “Stronger Than Me”. Amy was most known for her unique soulful voice, amazing songwriting, and bass guitar skills. Winehouse was vicariously known for her sass, addictions, as well as her unhealthy relationship with her ex-husband Black Fielder-Civil. At some point, she was even considered one of the most disliked divas in the industry. Unfortunately, Amy passed away in 2011 just at 27 years old from an alcohol overdose. Her legacy lives on as she has inspired other popular artists such as Adele, Sam Smith, and Lana Del Rey. She is usually recognized by her iconic beehive hair, fabulous mole, and her eye-catching tattoos.

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she identified as:

࿐ a virgo sun, capricorn moon, & gemini rising.

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ㅤㅤ— her personality.❞

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Venus sextile Ascendant shows that Amy had a unique and striking look that stood out to others on the first impression and in the public eye; significant features such as her mole, beehive hairstyle, and thick eyeliner makes her easily distinguishable to her fans. Winehouse also had vintage tattoos such as a pocket named "Blake" and a tattoo on her arm dedicated to her grandma Cynthia. She had an incomparable beauty; not to mention, tons of models, artists, and celebrities are inspired by her fashion, iconic features, and music style to this today. Since her Ascendant is in Gemini, she definitely had a witty, playful and sarcastic personality; and her Venus in Leo added the sassiness to her character which she was partially known for. Plus, she was a fashion icon and served lots of looks.

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Moon conjunct Neptune can indicate that Amy had a sensitive and compassionate inner state. She was generous and understanding towards others. Additionally, she might have been very intuitive and easily interpret the energies in her surroundings. On the downside, this often makes someone who is selfless and tend to look out for other more often than themselves. Furthermore, she understood her emotions very well and she knew how to use mediums to express them. This aspect does call for someone who can easily be emotionally deceived or deluded. In this case, her conjunction is in the 7th house; she might have struggled with deception and emotional/mental confusion in her personal relationships. It could have been easy for her to fall victim to addictive relationships as was shown in her public relationship with her ex-husband Blake Civil-Fielder.

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Prominent Neptunes are more than likely to fall to substance abuse as well. This is also shown in Sun square Neptune. Amy might have also struggled with confusion in her self-esteem, ego, or identity. With Sun in the 5th house and Neptune in the 7th house, she might have been the type to indulge in romantic relationships to escape from herself. This is the type of placement that tries to find their identity through their connections with others (This is also shown in her Neptune opposition Ascendant) This placement is also common in people who goes into casual relationships often. This makes someone who is creative, imaginative, and has potential to create beautiful art and projects.

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Moon trine Mars could have made Amy someone who was an emotionally passionate lover. She must've loved expressing her adoration and admiration to her loved ones through her actions and efforts; and to her partners through sexual attraction. Additionally, she was a goal-oriented woman who must've saved a lot for herself in the future. I believe Amy talked about starting a clothing line in one of her street interviews, and at some point I think she was working with Fred Perry on a branding range. With Mars in the 4th house, it is possible that Amy had a desire to start a family or she had a specific passion about security or home life.

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With Lilith trine Ascendant, Amy had this image of expressing herself unapologetically. She had striking sex appeal that was unique from other artists, especially with Lilith in the 10th house. With Lilith in Aquarius, perhaps Amy might have been ostracized or bullied for how different she was from others at some point in her life. Due to her trine, she learned how to embrace her differences and use this appeal to create the image she is known for today.

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Moon sextile Saturn could indicate that Amy used to be an emotionally mature individual. She was a good partner and she was perhaps the type to stick with someone through thick and thin because she understood it all. This could show someone who has an old soul, and Amy definitely had an old soul. Amy began writing music just at 14 and made her debut album at 19. With Saturn in the 6th house, she was an orderly individual and she must've took marriage and partnerships seriously. Not to mention, she demonstrated her passionate love for Blake in their 6-year long relationship. Saturn in the 6th house within the aspects shows she was a sucker for routine and order, so she was most likely the one who wears the pants in her relationships and conducted when and how things would happen. She might've believed strongly in marriage as well with her Moon in the 7th house in this aspect.

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Sun conjunct Mercury easily makes someone who is very versatile, intelligent, and talented. Amy was proficient in a lot of things. This also calls to make a witty, introspective, and sarcastic individual who is often proficient at using their words in a eloquent way. Amy was also known for being a good songwriter and having great lyricism in her music. With Virgo in the 5th house, she may be someone who is subjected to perfectionism as she wants her arts and projects to come out exactly the way she envisioned them to be. This also makes her appear graceful in workings on an outer impression as well. Mercury square Neptune also makes someone who often struggles with verbal communication, she may have not been the best with talking to people clearly. But she might know how to communicate through other mediums such as music, poetry, and writing.

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Moon trine Venus made Amy someone who knew how to incorporate their inner world and emotional state into beauty and the arts. It was easy for Amy to express how she felt through her music; as said, it was almost as though it was a therapeutic medium for her. Additionally, she also valued balance, love, and diplomacy more than anything. She also knew how to get along with others and was very well-liked by the people in her inner circle. She was more than likely willing to be there for others and cared for others as well. She must’ve loved children too or knew how to handle them. Most importantly, she couldn't live without her relationships, it was what made her inner world thrive.

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With Mercury trine Chiron, as mentioned previously in childhood, Amy might have struggled with communicating with others. Perhaps she was a shy kid in school or she did not know how to socialize. Amy actually dealt with anxiety pretty often, especially on stage. She would mention that in interviews. That anxiety and her fidgety nature was also shown in her Mercury square ascendant. It is impossible that she could have struggled with feeling heard specifically since her Chiron is in the 12th house. Her way of truly feeling heard and making others feel heard was her talent in music, writing, and lyricism. A lot of people could easily sympathize and relate to Amy's music, especially in regards to relationships and self-love. Mercury-Chiron aspects in general also point towards delinquency or troubles in school. Amy actually was expelled from Sylvia Young Theatre school when she was fourteen for wearing a nose ring.

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Moon sextile Pluto signifies that Amy had an intense inner world. She experienced dark and huge emotions. Because of this, she was very understanding and comfortable with many taboo topics. She was very mature due to this. Amy dealt with a lot with her health, especially her mental health as shown in her Pluto in the 6th house in this aspect. Apparently, she suffered from bipolar disorder the more her dependencies worsened over the years. She also dealt with depression at a young age along with anxiety. She also dealt with bulimia long from her teens. Hence, she experienced worst so she understood it all. All of her hardships in this area, this helped her with finding motivation and reasoning too transform and become a better person.

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ㅤㅤ— her relationships. ❞

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Amy has one of the most rarest placements. Only 8% of the population has a retrograded venus. First off, venus in retrograde immediately calls for someone who has a serious karmic lesson surrounding self-love, materialism, and values in this life. With Amy having Venus in Leo in the 4th house retrograded, this might have called for her to find confidence and assurance in herself as an individual in order to feel secure in her individuality and life. However, since she might have struggled with expressing these qualities. She might have experienced the opposite. She had to deal with being in the eyes of the public and her relationships being put under a spotlight when it most likely wasn't wanted. Amy had to deal with scrutiny and her addictive marriage being put under a microscope for an audience to get her life lesson through. Amy might have not liked fame as much and she was more of a humble person.

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Venus trine neptune indicates that Amy had a dreamy, beautiful, and magical perception of love and beauty. She might have viewed it all as something that she incorporate into her life to build up security and establish relationships with others. She might have loved love and was willing to do anything it takes to experience it. She might have been used to falling with creative, selfless, and caring partners. Perhaps she fell in love with musicians and artists. This also calls for someone who is willing to try different styles or doesn't have a particular style at all.

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Venus sextile Pluto could show that Amy also had a very interesting and intense love life. In a negative sense, she might have dealt with toxic relationships. In a positive sense, every person she has dealt with has given her some type of lesson that could help transform herself. In fact, she might have became an entirely different person after every connection. With Venus in the 4th, the initiative and reasoning for every transformation in her relationship was to build security in herself and the life she has.

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Venus square Chiron calls for someone who often has a wound surrounding love, romance, beauty, and self-worth. Amy might have attracted tons of partners who needed to be saved or who would save her. She might have had a savior-martyr personality in regards to her connections. With her Chiron in the 12th specifically, the issue could have been she was never heard and could have depended on her relationships to help her feel so. This could signify low self-esteem or a feeling of insignificance.

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North Node in the 1st house conjunct her Ascendant shows that Amy's ultimate direction in life was to find herself and discover her true outlook on her life and what she wanted to do. This also shows that she was destined for popularity and recognition of some sort even if she wasn't famous.

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ㅤㅤㅤ— legacy/image.❞

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Mean Lilith in Aquarius in the 10th house indicates that Amy had a very provocative, taboo, and intense reputation during her prime. First, she has a different image than typical soul singers. Her beauty was rather unconventional and alluring. She also had a very unique voice. Others thought her voice was rather a bit soulful for a British singer. She also dealt with lots of hate, scrutiny, and criticism due to her public breakdowns and reactions. She was considered one of the most disliked divas in the industry at some point due to what she was going through. 10th house also represents the father. This aspect could also indicate being exploited by an authoritative or masculine figure in one's life whether that be through career or other things.

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Mars opposite Midheaven shows that Amy's passions sourced from a different area of her life rather than her career. Amy's drive, desires, and goals come from her sense of security and comfort (with Mars in the 4th) In specific terms, her family and home life could be what motivates her the most to do what she does. She might have been someone who did not care too much about her career as a music artist, she was rather someone who was comfortable staying home and pertaining to her hobby without the need of showcasing it instead, especially since her Mars is in Leo. In fact, Amy said that she did not want to be famous. She "hated it".

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Chiron trine Midheaven shows that Amy had an image and reputation of knowing how to incorporate her wounds and traumas beautifully into her music due to the issue of not feeling like she was heard when she was younger, especially with Chiron in Gemini in the 12th. She was able to transmit her words to an audience that understood her and how she felt. She made people understand an entirely different perspective on love, addiction, and many more unique topics. This aspect also might be the reason as to why she has a reputation of being "a victim" to her addictions and relationships, similar to Marilyn Monroe who has Chiron conjunct Midheaven in her chart.

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Midheaven at the 11° shows that Amy had a humble and introspective mindset when it came to her image. On the other hand, her fame and legacy caused a charitable act to come from it all. In 2011, Jane Winehouse created the 'Amy Winehouse Foundation' which is a company that celebrates and honors the legacy of Amy and helps women who struggle with addictions.

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Amy has her own asteroid called Asteroid Amy (3375)—she has the asteroid conjunct her Mars and sextile her Ascendant.

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❤️

[panther-os]

Full Name and Family Headcanons

For the extended 141 family plus the fruity bastard betrayer (derogatory (affectionate)), some more complete than others. If any of this is directly contradicted by canon, I don't care, that's why they're headcanons

Soap

John Steven Donald MacTavish

Two loving parents, the youngest with at least 3 older siblings, all sisters. Closely enough related to the Chief of the Name and Arms of MacTavish to a) be considered low upper class and b) know his exact place in the line of hereditary succession. Also the kilt he wears on special occasions is always the modern MacTavish tartan, do your research. Grew up in Bonnyrigg outside Edinburgh and is emotionally attached to Sir Salter Scott

Ghost

Simon Lorcán Riley

Same family and circumstances as '09 Ghost (extremely poor, abusive dad, oldest of two boys), but give him loving maternal grandparents and three cousins. He's Irish by ethnicity and heritage, which a few family members kept alive and passed down to him, but British by nationality. His great-great-(great-?)grandparents migrated to Manchester during the Great Hunger, but his aunt moved back to Ballylongford where some of the family originally lived. His cousins and maternal grandmother are all alive but think he's dead and he keeps it that way for their safety. His middle name is after his maternal grandfather who died when he was young and was given to him by his grandma. I do also hc he's trans and have a deadname headcanon for him but I don't share those. The specific neighborhood he grew up in inside Manchester was Beswick

Gaz

Kyle Adam Garrick

Grew up in Brixton in London, relatively poor with two loving but working parents, but also with an enormous tight-knit community and more neighborhood aunties and uncles and cousins than he knew what to do with. Has one baby sister but she's 20 years younger than him so she's a baby baby and he was already enlisted and moved out when she was born

Price

John Matthew Price

Grew up in Anfield in Liverpool, near the football stadium. Avid fan, ropes Ghost into Liverpool vs Man United debates every season. Ghost doesn't even like football. Middle class, working dad and stay at home mom, older sister, younger sister

Roach

Gary Parker Sanderson

Working poor, older sister, younger brother

Laswell

Katherine Emma Laswell

Middle class child of divorce, no step-siblings or step-parents, lesbian wine aunt who's basically Kate Kane (coincidentally Kate's favorite superhero)

Nikolai

Nikolai Antonovich Pokrovsky

Absent parents, one younger sister

Farah

Farah Leyla Karim

Canon family - two loving parents killed by AQ, one older brother. Her middle name is the Georgian spelling of the Arabic name Layla (see my post about Urzikstan and Abkhazia for why this spelling)

Alex

Alexander Jeremiah Keller

Two older sisters, two triplet sisters (one an hour older, one three hours younger), two younger sisters, single mom, also raised by aunt and grandmother

Alejandro

Alejandro Ernesto Vargas Leon

Grew up working poor, dad died when he was three, mom had to work, older brother 4ys older took jobs for the cartel starting at 12-ish to make ends meet and left Ale as the "man of the house" at 8. Also has one 4ys younger sister (same dad, mom was pregnant) and 12ys younger twin baby brothers (different dad who chose not to be in the picture, oopsie babies). He loves the twins but wants to hang them upside down by their shoelaces more often than not, his sister is just as mischievous but more mature and subtle about it which made her easier to raise

Rudy

Rodolfo Ildefonso Parra Rosales

Born into a poor family, cartel killed his parents when he was three, adopted by a single mom after that. His new family is unrelated to the Cartel but his bisabuela is just as feared and respected as El Sin Nombre and La Araña before her, if not more in some parts of the city. Learned his best chancla skills from her. Only child but grew up in a massive multigenerational multifamily home with at least 20 older cousins - was the baby until he was 7 and now he's the second youngest

Graves

Phillip Windsor Graves

Upper class, born to parents who had an heir to the company because it was expected of them but who didn't actually want or like kids. Essentially raised by a rotating cast of nannies

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 320

the art for today is actually the massive quantity of koulourakia i made tonight. its the first time i've tried one of my grandma's recipes since she passed away and it was... vague to say the least! using juice glasses and bottlecaps as units of measurement and such. no bake time listed, operating on vibes alone. but I did it! and yes i know these are usually specifically easter cookies but they are tasty with tea or coffee all year round so I am making them for friendsgiving.

anyway here's grandma's recipe, edited by me for clarity lol

Recipe Makes: A buttload of cookies. Frankly you should probably half this. But if you are somebodys yiayia and you are making them for the whole fam don’t worry about it.

Ingredients & Supplies

7 eggs (6 for the dough, 1 for the egg wash)

1 cup vegetable oil (we use corn oil but any veg oil will work)

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups sugar

6 tsp baking powder

½ tsp salt

~6 cups flour

Sesame seeds (to preference)

1 Large mixing bowl (seriously you will need a Big Bowl if you aren’t halving the recipe)

1-3 baking sheets (depending on the size of the sheets/if you want to just reuse one and bake in multiple batches, etc)

Some open counter space to roll out your dough as you’re shaping it

Optionally a brush for your egg wash but if ya nasty like me, you can just use your fingers. You’re gonna have your hands all over these things anyway so as long as you’re washing them it’s fine.

Directions:

Preheat your oven to 350°F

Mix your wet ingredients together, then cream mixture together with the sugar, salt, and baking powder

Add your ~6 cups of flour gradually until you get a thick dough. The key is that you should be able to shape the dough with your hands and not have it stick to your fingers.

Sprinkle some flour on your staging area (wherever you’re gonna be rolling out your dough) and roll your dough out into small snakes. For the twist shapes, mine tend to end up about 10” long? But its just the sort of thing you’ll have to get a feel for. You can do as many twists in it as you want, go nuts! Or do other shapes! I’m an artist not a cop.

Once you have a full tray, beat your last egg in its own bowl, and coat the top of each cookie with a thin layer of the egg. This is the glue for your sesame seeds!

Sprinkle sesame seeds on your egg-coated cookies, as much or as little as you like. I’m a heavy sesame seed kinda guy myself. I just think it makes them look better.

Pop a tray onto the center rack of your oven for 15-20min, until the cookies are a light golden brown. Measure this with your heart.

Optional: Dunk those bad boys in your favorite Hot Drink. Get some tea or coffee or something. Actually I know I said this step was optional but I lied, you gotta do it.

anyway if u end up using the recipe let me know! send pics or something!

[whiskeynwriting]

More rough and feral dom daddy whiskey please? <3

Colombian Cowboy

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Reader

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Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink (obvi, it’s sacred at this point), spit kink, dom daddy, choking, hair pulling, degradation, oral fixation, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, rough sex, brief mention of hair, established relationship/marriage

◆

A/N: co-written with @phnyx once again, and are y’all even surprised at this point? Also, this takes place before babycakes gets preggers, but her and daddy are still married. 

Thank you to @fishingforpike for always being an amazing beta reader <3

Inspired by this picture because… dear god, dear GOD. If anyone knows who originally created this picture, please let me know and I will tag them ASAP! I did not make this picture!

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There was something different about the architecture here, something different about the way everything was put together. The arches, the entryways, even the brick wasn’t like anything you’d seen in the states, well, not in Kentucky, anyway. And it makes sense, because right now, you’re miles away from the United States.

You didn’t often see Jack’s family; his many aunts, uncles, and grandparents were older now and couldn’t make the trip. So, Jack had brought up the idea of visiting them more often to you, and you were thrilled to accept it. How could you not? Not only did you love Jack with your whole heart and would do practically anything in the world for him, but you also loved his family. His grandparents in particular were the sweetest couple you’d ever seen, and they welcomed you into the family with open arms well before you’d even gotten married.

“Mi bonita chiquita!” (my pretty little girl!)

Smiling, you pick up your pace to a jog, meeting her halfway. She didn’t need to be walking any faster than she could muster.

“Abuelita,” You say as you lean down to give her a hug. “Te extrañé.” (Grandma, I missed you)

“Abuelo,” Jack greeted his grandfather, hugging him as he too joined you all on the porch. (Grandpa)

You wouldn’t guess by looking at him or honestly even meeting him, but Jack spoke Spanish. He not only spoke Spanish, but was from South America, too. His mother’s side is Colombian, with his father being from the states. That’s where that famous southern drawl comes in. A Colombian cowboy; quite the peculiar taste but one you’re more than happy to savor.

“¿Cómo estás hace poco?” He asks, breaking the hearty embrace. “Bien?” (How are you lately? Good?) 

“Más o menos,” Abuelo frowns, waving a hand in the air. “Mi nieta! Cómo estás, hermosa?” (More or less. My granddaughter! How are you, beautiful?)

It’s humorous how easily he pushes Jack’s inquiries aside just to come over and say hi to you. They really do love you. And if Jack took it to heart, he’d be annoyed, but he’s not. He’s thrilled his family loves you. They see you as one of their own and to be honest, you really are.

Before long, they’re corralling the two of you inside, and as soon as you’re through the front door, you can smell the masterpieces Abuelita has been preparing. It’s clear she’s spent all afternoon making the dishes, each one being a favorite of either yours or Jack’s. You feel bad that she’s gone through so much work just for the two of you. You’re sure she’s remade the entire guest bedroom for both of you, too. She can’t get around as easy as she used to, so putting in that kind of effort takes a toll on her. But even if you told her to stop (and in the kindest ways, you have), she never would. She’ll never stop caring this much about either of you.

While you help Jack’s Abuela set the table for dinner, he takes it upon himself to carry your bags upstairs. There are only three rooms on the upper level, his grandparents’, the bathroom, and the spare room. And when he opens the door, what he sees brings a smile to his face. The bed is made with new sheets that he’s sure his grandmother made, and resting atop the orange and beige quilt is a bouquet of carnations and tulips. The décor along the walls has also changed. Each one of the numerous pictures in the hanging frames have been swapped for new ones, some of you and Jack, and some of Jack from his past. There are a few that show Jack as a child when he'd spend summers on his grandparent’s farm. The memories that flow into his mind make his heart fill with a sense of somber joy.

“Babycakes!”

“Yeah?” You holler back, glancing over at the stairs. And although you can’t see each other, he keeps talking.

“C’mon up here for a minute.”

“Ya vuelvo.” You then smile, placing a hand on his grandmother’s shoulder. (I’ll be right back)

“Tome su tiempo, mi amor.” (Take your time, my love)

In a few short steps, you’re at the bottom of the stairs, but you don’t see him anywhere. With a sigh, you follow the sound of Jack’s low hum. What does he have in mind?

“Hey baby, what’s up?” Entering the room with a gentle push on the door, you finally see the husband you’ve been searching for. “Oh, wow, those are beautiful.”

“They really are,” Jack says softly, watching as you walk over to the bouquet his grandmother had left on the bed. “Honey, look at this.”

“Hm?” On your heels, you spin to face him, your eyes following the finger pointing at the wall. “Oh,”

You don’t often see pictures of Jack, not from his younger days, at least. He just doesn’t have many, if any at all, in the penthouse. Most of them are with his family, and with all of them living so far apart, the times you do get to see pictures of baby Jack are rare. Only… this isn’t baby Jack. Oh, no. This is… this is grown Jack, young adult Jack.

“Baby, how old were you here?”  Pointing to a specific picture on the wall, you quickly become entranced. 

In the picture, it looks to be in the afternoon, possibly at the end of a workday. He has his signature white shirt and blue jeans combo on, but with a shockingly dull belt buckle. He’s also wearing a white cowboy hat; one you’ve never seen him wear before. He’s sitting halfway over a metal fence, his right leg on one side, his left leg on the other, with both hands gripping the top railing. It’s a nice view of his side profile as he’s looking ahead at something you’re not able to see. But to be completely honest, you’re not really interested in whatever he’s looking at, because you’re too busy with what you’re looking at.

There is such a clear outline of his muscles through the fabric of that shirt, such definition in his forearms and biceps. You can see his pectorals and the muscles along his shoulders through the shirt, the veins in his forearms bulging slightly as he grasps the railing. The way he’s sitting looks so… dominant. So strong and just so… Jack.

“That one?” He asks, rubbing his jaw. “Dunno, sugar. Maybe my late twenties, early thirties?”

Then, he looks to his side, smiling widely when he sees your mesmerized expression.

“You like how I look there, babycakes?” He asks you sweetly, taking you into his arms while you continue to stare. “Hm?”

You can’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him, your smile bursting fully across your cheeks when he nuzzles himself into your neck. Sensually, he grinds himself against your hip, and chuckles. Those beautifully plush lips press to the skin of your neck, but only for a moment before he huffs out a breath, shaking his head.

“It’s that easy,” He murmurs seductively. “It’s that easy for you to get me.”

“Daddy…” You whisper in return, briefly forgetting exactly where you are, and where you’re supposed to be.

“Baby,” He returns, the hook of his nose running along your jaw as he just barely lifts himself from your neck. “My sweet baby.”

It’s taking everything in you to not spiral, to not throw Jack on the bed and have him all for yourself. Seeing the younger version of him made you hot, but having the older version of him right here next to you? That made you hotter. But still, you can’t help but think what he would’ve been like back then, how he would’ve treated you in bed. He looks so serious in that picture, so focused and tanned and broad… fuck, you’re trying not to get carried away, you’re really trying. But his next words, they drag you down quicker than the hounds of hell.

“Do you want it now, babycakes?” He whispers, teeth tugging gently at your ear. “Or later?” You can already feel yourself leak between your thighs, his words making your heart rate increase until you’re sweating with anxious excitement. 

The hand he uses to grab your jaw is musty and half-covered in dirt, yanking your face upwards to look him directly in the eye.

“I said now, or later?” He grits out, raising his brows authoritatively as he expects a response.

Staring up at him, he’s backlit by the sun like some sort of Greek god. His hat blocks the main rays of it, shielding you from the direct and blinding light. He looks sweaty and tired, but more than ready to handle you. 

“Now,” You whimper out in response, breath-taken by the current state he’s in. “Please.”

“Good.” It comes out thick and low, his voice always rich with that southern drawl.

All too easily, he forces you to step back, walking forward until your back hits the outside wall of the barn. Without hesitation, he immediately grabs your throat, the tips of his fingers on his free hand then flying to your mouth. 

“Get these wet for me.” He demands, shoving them inside.

“Mm,” Mumbling, your eyes go wide when you gag involuntarily.

It makes him smile, towering over you and squeezing your neck while he shoves his fingers down your throat. Both of your hands reach for his forearm, clinging to him tightly while you moan. When you gather your bearings, you begin to suck, unable to tear your gaze from his eyes while doing so. It makes your center pulse, already weeping for him. Jack’s eyes focus on you, his brow furrowing slightly as he pumps his two fingers in and out of your mouth. He rubs the pads of them down on your tongue, grinning wickedly when you gag on them again.

“You’re doing so good,” He grumbles, eyes dipping down to your currently occupied mouth. And listening to Jack’s praise while his fingers are in your mouth makes you burn bright inside.

It makes him so happy to see you like this, so willingly submissive. You like it, too, he knows you do. You live for it, and honestly, he does too. 

Jack sighs deeply, contentedly. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side, a sinister smile growing on his face. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, honeybee.” 

“Mm?” You mumble, doe eyes staring directly into his, into those increasingly dark brown orbs. 

He retracts his fingers from your mouth, giving a short chuckle of delight when he witnesses your small spit trail. Then, he nods. 

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth.” Licking his lower lip, his eyes dart down to your own as they open widely for him. And with one hand on your throat, he purses his lips, spitting onto your tongue. You whine in surprise, in utter shock. But the second time he does it, you’re expecting it, his grip on your throat tightening as he does it. 

“You like that?” And his jaw is clenched, eyes flickering back to your own. But when you move your lips to answer, his grip tightens again. “Uh-uh, don’t swallow it. Not yet… let daddy taste it.” 

Leaning in, his tongue dives into your mouth, swiping over the wet mess of his own saliva. With your eyes rolling back to a close, you moan, hands trailing up his chest to meet behind his neck. Thankfully, he allows you to pull him in, those broad hands encircling your back. His tongue dominates your mouth, the intrusion of the thick, slick muscle prompting a sudden need for it to be elsewhere. 

What you don’t expect is for his wet fingers to find your sex, making their way beneath your skirt and to the thin covering of your panties. He grunts against your mouth when he rubs you through them, fingertips pressing against your clit. 

“Mm,” Jesus, he loves when you whimper. 

Already, your hips are rotating into his hand, and within seconds, he’s shoving your panties to the side. One single, deliciously thick finger slides up through your folds, circling your already reddened bud. He rubs your slick over it, your pretty pearl, feeling you tremble in his hold. 

“You’re already so close, aren’t you?” Jack whispers against your mouth, and you can just smell the sweat on him. It’s salty in your mouth when you attach it to his neck.

Again, you’re shoving yourself into his hand, desperately seeking more. And he complies, grinning while he slides one finger inside. “Needy fucking thing.” Jack grunts, the tip of his digit finding your most sensitive spots. 

“Daddy,” Hips jerking forward, he rocks his hand with you, finger moving in and out with every movement you make. 

“Yeah? You gonna fuck yourself on my hand?” It’s not what he originally had in mind, but he’d be damned to stop this.

“Mhm,” Whining, your eyes open, staring directly into his. And the innocence they reflect absolutely kills him.

“Mm…” He groans, that handsome face focused entirely on you. “Then do it.”

With a single nod, he leans in, angling his hand to rub against your clit. And the more pressure he applies, the more you whine, the more you squirm, breathing out desperate puffs of air for him. He can see how riled up you’ve become, how fucking feral you get - you’re so wet he can smell it. And it’s from him, all from him. Only from him.

“Cum on daddy’s hand.” Jack whispers into your ear, the timbre of his voice breaking you open from the inside. 

For once, he allows your eyes to close, watching as your head tilts back. Jack loved to make you hold eye contact through your high, he just had to see how dumb you could get. But right now, he lets you savor it, your jaw dropping fully as you moan, those beautiful wafts of air floating right from your mouth and into his. Because as soon as you started to shake, he attached himself to you again, shoving his tongue into your mouth so he could steal every one of your breaths. 

He almost can’t handle the sensation of it, feeling your juices drip down his hand. Removing them, they instantly find his lips, sucking them inside so he doesn’t waste it. He yearns for the taste of your center, the dampness of it, the tangy smell of it. 

“Oh…” He growls happily, lazily grabbing your jaw. Your lids are heavy as you look at him, watching that beautiful tongue roll over his digits. “Daddy loves when you get that dumb little look on your face.

And when he realizes you’re still too fucked-out to say anything, he speaks again.

“Get on your knees.” 

It’s immediate, your compliance, your center burning bright from his authority. Even though your back is against the barn, you slide down the tattered wall, landing on your knees. He doesn’t move either, doesn’t give you anymore space as he keeps his stance directly in front of you. And as you fall, Jack’s eyeline follows you down, strong and calloused hands already undoing his belt. 

“Mm…” Whimpering, your fidgeting fingers play with each other, anxiety brewing in your belly from the sinful heat continuing to rise in your body. 

While he stares down at you, he can feel the adrenaline racing through his blood. You’re so cute, so pretty on your knees before him. But the sight of your doe-eyed expression doesn’t make him want to be sweet, it makes him want to be fierce, to withhold any sense of mercy from you. Jack wants to watch you crumble, force you into submissiveness and watch as you let him make a mess of your existence. 

“Baby,” Growling quietly, he bends down, leaning in to roughly take hold of your jaw. And he sighs out in satisfaction when you move with him, rising a little higher into his grasp. “Open your mouth for daddy.” 

With a smile, you comply, opening your mouth wide while staring up at him. 

“Yeah…” Jack sighs, returning to his full height. And once he’s standing tall again, he resumes the undoing of his belt, finally pulling himself out. “Get that tongue out.”

Staring at the thickness of his length weighing heavy in front of your face, you do as he says, refraining from licking his head. Happily, he grabs himself, holding his erection at the base while moving to tap it against your tongue. The wet slap of it makes him moan, the sight and sound something you’ll never forget. He looks amazing like this, towering over you, his toned and tanned pelvis on display. And his cock, the same cock you’ve taken dozens of times, just waiting to force its way inside you. 

But your impatience betrays you. Your body yearns to feel the same tingle of excitement Jack forced through your body mere seconds ago. And you’re wondering if he’ll let you pleasure yourself while sucking him off. Curiously, you shift, spreading your legs wider and settling your covered crotch directly onto his boot. The leather’s cool sensation makes you sigh, your eyes closing as his precum leaks onto your tongue. And before you even realize it, your hips are swaying, your small hands rising to cling to his calf, his thigh, holding onto him desperately. And the sigh of you getting yourself off on his boot while he smacks the tip of his dick against your tongue is making him feral all over again.

“Pretty girl,” That southern drawl coos to you, beckoning for your attention. And when you gaze up at him, he finishes with, “Are you begging?” 

Upon hearing his words, you sigh, a look of concern washing over your face. Is he mad at me?

“It’s okay, sugar.” Your lover grins, reading your mind. “You can rub yourself on me. Yeah… rub yourself while you suck on daddy.”

Instantly, your eyes are shutting again, lips suctioning around his tip as you move forward to take him in. And your quick compliance forces a groan from within his chest, his lips parting in awe as he witnesses it. 

With happy and eager movements, you swallow him, feeling the firm twitch of his tip at the back of your throat. Already, spit collects in your mouth as you move back and forth, feeling every ridge of vein of his length slide along your lips and tongue. And you continue to cling to him, breathing through your nose as you bob your head along his length. 

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna see…” Thick fingers move forward, curling into the hair at the crown of your head. “God.”

Jack was always such a vocal man, you loved hearing the noises he made during sex. They make your heart thump with excitement, your center tingle with arousal, knowing you’re pleasing the most important man. 

“Fuck daddy, baby. Fuck daddy with your mouth.” 

And when he says it, you look up with him, a tear from each eye streaming down your cheeks. Drool finally pours past your lips as his free hand cups your cheek, shoving his thumb into the corner of your mouth and watching more stream down your chin. 

“You always make such a fucking mess.” Your lover seethes, gritting his teeth. 

Moving both hands to your head, he shoves you back against the wooden slats, choosing to fuck your face instead of letting you choose the pace. Harshly, he thrusts into your mouth, reveling in the suction of your throat around him. It’s now that he finally hears you gag, one of his absolute favorite things when it comes to you going down on him. The wet suck of it forces his eyes to roll back into his head, your hands now pushing him away instead of pulling him in. But he’s so much stronger than you, it really doesn’t matter what you do. His digits grip your hair so harshly that it stings, keeping you in place for however long he needs. And it won’t be much longer, not with the way you’re taking him.

“Baby, babycakes.” He gasps, jaw dropping as he stares down at your gorgeous face. “You take it so well, honey.” And that little bit of babbling praise tells you that he’s close. It’s his next words that send him over the edge.

“Daddy’s little cum slut.” His words make your insides burn with shame, worrying over the possibility of someone else hearing. 

Quickly, he pulls himself out, jacking off over your waiting face. Your sloppy gasp, the wet sound of your choking throat, it’s all too much for him. Leaning one hand against the barn, he cums, watching it shoot onto your face. It leaps onto your nose, but that isn’t good enough for him. So, he turns your head, wanting to rub it over your cheeks and lips.

The gooiness of it sticks to your skin, the smell of his musk and sweat flooding your senses. You’re still so close that the hairs of his pelvis scratch against your face, his balls rubbing over your chin. And as he starts to come down, his chest heaves from the force of it, his high prompting a subtle shake in his legs.

“Don’t taste it, baby.” He gently commands. Jack always did come across soft in his post-orgasmic bliss. 

“Daddy, no.” It comes out before you can stop it, your whiny words and bratty pout. Not only do you want to taste it, you want to clean it. It makes you feel shameful, having your face painted when out in the open like this. 

“No?” He questions, his voice playful yet threateningly low. “Baby doll, you better watch your fuckin’ mouth.” At this, your eyes widen, brows dipping in the center ever so slightly. 

With his anger rising, he leans down, grabbing you by the throat and hauling you onto your feet. “Daddy.” Grabbing onto his forearm, you gasp before his hands are on your hips and spinning you around. 

“Hush up.” He returns almost playfully, reaching down to grab a handful of your ass. “Daddy needs to use your sweet little hole.”

With that, he’s flipping your dress up and over your backside, scrunching it around your hips so he can see every bit of your skin. Briefly, he licks the pads of his fingers before dropping them to your sex, rubbing you for just a moment. 

“Still just as wet,” He murmurs, and practically to himself. 

Leaning in, he rests his chin on your shoulder, sighing out a heavy and hot breath. With one hand on your hip, he uses the other to spread your cheek, feeling his tip touch your lips. 

“Oh…” Dropping his head down, his forehead rests against the back of your head as he moves, sliding his entire length inside. 

Your small yelp is muffled by his hand as he splits you open from behind, sinking every inch into your center. And when he bottoms out, he almost laughs, so overjoyed from the feeling of being surrounded by your insides.

“God, I can reach so deep inside, can’t I?”

“Daddy,”

“Sh,” He returns, just as he’s beginning to move. “You stay here, stay here and let daddy fuck you.” 

And just like that, he’s slapping his pelvis against your ass, the thickness of his length plunging inside. At first, it’s overwhelming, entirely blinding bliss. The feeling of his veins rubbing against your walls, his fat tip hitting your most sensitive spot. And his grunts, his hot breaths and deep moans. It’s too much, it’s too much.

“Daddy, you’re making me feel so good. It’s, it’s so much.”

“Yeah? You want daddy to stop?” Jack immediately questions, words ragged and breathless. But all you do is whine. 

“What have I told you? Huh?” And now, his hand curls around to your neck, tighter than before as he shakes you a bit. Gritting his teeth, he demands, “Tell me.”

Quietly, pitifully, you squeak, “I’m not done ‘till daddy’s done.”

Instantly, a bright smile breaks out across his face, and he’s planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “That’s right, babycakes.”

Your body rocks from the force of it, the barn he helped to build so many years ago creaking from Jack’s genuine strength. His muscles ripple and flex as he fucks himself into you, listening to the lewd squelch of it. He wishes he could do this every day, shove you up against the barn at the end of a long work day and fuck your throat, your pretty face, before taking your cunt. Day, after day, after day. It’s all he wants, all he’s ever wanted. You. 

“Oh baby,” He huffs, his groans turning into guttural growls. “Baby, you got daddy so riled up. You’re perfect angel, you’re so perfect, and you’re mine. You’re daddy’s perfect little play toy.”

“Daddy, I l-love, I love you.”

“Oh, honey. Daddy loves you, too. So, are you gonna answer me?”

“Hm? W-What?”

“I asked you a question, sugar.” And when you still don’t respond, he refreshes your memory. “Do you want it now, or later?”

Back in Jack’s childhood room, his fingers find your chin, tilting it toward him gently. And when your eyes meet him, you feel taken aback. He’s so beautiful, such a genuinely gorgeous man. And with everything in you, you want him, desperately and right in this moment. 

“Mis amores! La cena está lista!” (My loves! Dinner is ready!)

Jack then tuts at you, tapping the underside of your chin. With a wink, he decides, “Guess it’ll have to be later.”

[thewickerking]

hey. what?

well. For context everyone im assuming this ask is referring to this post and my tags below

im assuming because of the. The.

Many. Prev tags on it lmao but anyways here's more context. ill try to keep specific elements vague cause i don't want to doxx my grandma and by extension myself. But yeah let's go

my grandma (maternal) ran away from home in her teens (not sure the exact year/age but 70s ish) to join the circus and worked there for an amount of time doing ticket sales and miscellaneous jobs that aren't performance based

she met a guy also working there and they dated. this guy joined a satanic cult after joining the circus (? I think. Mightve been the other way around) and performed ritualistic sacrifice within the cult/with his murder victims. he was not in charge of the cult but was an active member and serial killer across around 4 states, maybe more (evidence was found for about 4 states iirc)

anyways he got caught for evidence of multiple murders but confessed to upwards of 20 (they couldn't find evidence of this so its unclear if he was exaggerating or if there simply wasn't enough irrefutable evidence) and went to prison while my grandma was pregnant and she was also arrested as an accomplice and had her kid in prison. She was 18 at the time. Idk how long she spent in prison but it was long enough to have her son taken away

her son (first of her four children, was my oldest uncle on my moms side) has adopted parents who changed his first and last name and didn't let him know about his biological parents (and were also extremely abusive) and so my mother and her siblings and her mom did unsuccessful research to find him over the years and he found our family a few years before he turned 30 (my moms ten years younger than him btw) and we've been in contact since and he was my personal favorite of my moms siblings

Oh also the serial killer got sentenced to life without parole and is currently on death row. My uncle died last year from unrelated circumstance (I posted about it some last year if anyone remembers) and my mom adopted 2 of 3 of his kids (3rd was a legal adult already) and then they got kidnapped and their kidnappers won the custody battle against my mom so. Yeah

Oh also worth noting my mom is the youngest of the four. my grandma had four kids with different men so im not related to the serial killer but he is in my family tree? Anyways yeah different fathers. My grandma remembers the serial killer and my moms father (my abuelito ♡ love him) but doesn't remember the fathers of the middle children (my aunt and uncle). So they're my moms half siblings technically and nobody knows if the middle children have other half siblings on their dads' sides 🤷‍♂️ but my mom has a half sister on her dad's side! She's 2 years younger than me bc my abuelito got married to his ex wife later in life but they're not together anymore (?) Not sure. They broke up idk if they legally divorced but they live in different countries and don't talk to each other. So.

Id love to meet her someday! But I don't know if thats feasible. She lives in Mexico and only speaks spanish so it would certainly be difficult. But I want to.... she almost immigrated to the United States like. 6 years ago?? My mom paid for documents to be legally translated and stuff but stuff happened and it didn't go through.she also tried to kill her mom once. But she's doing better. That's all a long story. We have a picture of her in our house from when she was little!

Ok thats very tangent-y. I have a lot of family stories. But also if anyone was curious this post below was also about my maternal grandmother

shes a white woman who likes to weaponise having "friends" in nepal when people are mean to her. She's a character. if ppl are curious abt any of this i will answer btw i love talking abt my family they're deranged