#home lending documents

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.2

Venus ° Lee Know

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY      wc: 2k give or take

Warnings: oral f receiving, fingering, inexperienced reader, experienced minho, aftercare??

The rest of the day with Chan was spent kissing and touching. The intrusion of his tongue in your mouth was thrilling, the drag of it down the skin of your neck was electrifying. His hands on you were gentle and soft but firm in their way, he made you feel safe and hot, a delicious mixture that heightened even more your attraction towards him.  Chan woke up something in you that you didn’t know you possessed, and by the state of him when you had to go home, dick hard, cheeks red and tousled hair, you seemed to have had an effect on him too.

Slick and arousal had soiled your underwear when you got home and you couldn’t help but get under the covers and slip a hand inside your pants, hoping your roommate didn’t hear you. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was his fingers tracing your slit and gently playing around with your pussy, it was his fingers circling your clit with precise movements. The orgasm that came out of your little self care moment was the strongest one you had ever experienced. Your pussy gushed and pulsed against your fingers. The moment you were done you passed out cold, tired from from the previous sleepless night.

When you awoke the sky outside was black and the city had quieted down significantly. 2 AM read your trusty clock. It was way too early to wake up so you let your eyes close and sleep pulled you into the void. Just as you were about to enter the land of dreams, a ping from your phone abruptly shook you awake.

Chris-py boy <3:

This is the list of the things you should know and which of the guys are gonna teach you. Think it over and let me know. Goodnight baby <3 (attached document)

You:

I don’t know Channie, the last one is a little much, but the rest is fine

Chris-py boy <3:

You don’t have to do the last one if you don’t want to, pretty. Think about it and let me know. What about Minho? Are you okay with that?

You:

I’m a little nervous because I don’t know Minho that much but I trust you, I know there’s a reason why you chose him. When are we going to meet?

A lump formed in your throat and butterflies filled your stomach (and your vagina).

Chris-py boy <3

He's very busy during the week between work and dance practice and classes but he’s available tomorrow afternoon if it’s not too early.

You:

No, tomorrow is fine

Chris-py boy <3:

Brave girl <3. Minho will text you tomorrow morning then, sleep well, pretty girl and let me know how he treated you after ;) 

You put the phone down with an ever growing feeling of pride in your chest.

‘You’re such a boss Y/N’

Waking up the next morning was traumatizing; your body was feeling all of the effects of a sleepless night, a special solo cardio session and your nervousness.Grogginess wouldn’t quite cut it, your whole body felt heavy with sleep and your mind was so foggy it was a miracle you remembered your name. The only thing that brought you out of your trance was your phone buzzing several times.

Unknown number: 3 messages

Chris-py boy <3 : two missed calls

‘Fuck what time is it? Did I sleep too much?’

Unknown number: Hi, it's Minho, are you okay with meeting at 4?

Unknown number: Wear something you feel comfortable in :)

Unknown member: Did you change your mind?

2 PM. The time on your clock almost sent you in a frenzy, you were finally getting laid for the first time and you overslept. Embarrassing, you thought to yourself.

You:

I didn’t forget, I’m sorry I was sleeping. 4 sounds perfect :)

Minho:

Don’t worry, I’ll be at your dorm around 4 then. Don’t worry too much, I’ll treat you well and you can always stop me at any time.

Minho’s words made you feel warm inside. He had always treated you nicely; always a polite gentleman, always opened doors around the guys’ dorm for you and every time you slept over and you walked around the kitchen with shorts, he would never let his eyes linger on your bare legs unlike Han. 

Just this once time was on your side. You had two hours to get presentable, take a shower and scrub furiously any sensitive areas, get dressed, do your skin care and hyperventilate in front of the mirror. The anxiety and nervousness that flowed inside your body were able to let you finish well in advance. Your feet moved on their own, you couldn’t stay still. If your bed could have talked, it would’ve cursed at you for constantly fixing the sheets and the pillows. It was a seemingly never ending cycle: walk around the bed, look at the sheets, fix the sheets, start walking again, only to do everything from the start. Right when you thought the floor would open up to swallow you whole, your phone pinged. You threw yourself on the bed to see the message.

Minho:

I’m outside, whenever you’re ready, take your time.

Butterflies swarmed your stomach, Minho was cute and nice and you were about to have sex with him. You felt beyond flattered. Without thinking too much, you got out of your room and sped to your door. Your hand wrapped around the door knob with a bruising grip and swung the offending piece of wood open. On the other side stood Minho in all of his beauty, and what a great beauty.

“Hi,” he spoke first and offered you a small sweet smile. You had never seen him smile like that and it made you warm inside once again, it also made your pussy slick in your panties. The fact that this gorgeous man wanted you even if you were completely inexperienced, the fact that you had that kind of power on him, it turned you on, more than a little.

“Come in.” Minho stepped inside your dorm room and closed the door behind him. His hand found yours naturally. 

“Can I see your room?” God he was so respectful and kind, you wanted him to absolutely destroy you. Instead of voicing your thoughts, you slowly walked him to your room, his fingers wrapped around yours still. Your tiny room seemed to shine the moment he stepped foot in it; each one of his movements seemed so natural and fluid that you had almost thought that he had already been in your room, already sat on your bed.

“Are you alright?” his voice was soft and sincere, you had never heard him speak like that to anyone. You just nodded and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Since this is your first lesson, I thought I could show you what pleasure is. Is that okay with you?” his words were so casual that you almost thought he wasn’t talking about sex. You nodded again.

“Use your words, pretty.”

“Yes, it's okay.” Minho hummed, his hand reached up to gently stroke your chin.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes please,” it was barely above a whisper but less than a moan, nevertheless Minho heard you and his lips were on yours in a heartbeat. His kiss was different from Chan’s, he was more passionate, more intense, you could feel his mischievous side in it. His lips felt heavenly on yours, they were soft and skilled just like his hands.They move confidently on the curves of your body, from your neck to your back to your hips which he squeezed affectionately.

“Can I touch you, pretty?” you almost didn’t hear him, so focused on the sensation of his hands on you and his lips which had now moved to brush against your ear and the skin behind it. A shiver shook you from your head to your toes and your pussy throbbed. Never in your life had you been that worked up in so little time.

“Please, Minho, touch me,” your voice sounded strange to your ears, your tone was whiny and slightly petulant but Minho seemed to think otherwise. His pupils were fully blown, a twinkle of lust and mischief in his eyes; the more skin you let him touch the more his dick stirred in his jeans. The trust you had in him, they way you keened and wailed with simple touches, the blush that was creeping up your neck to your face and extended to your pretty tits; all of these elements made Minho crazy with want, he couldn’t think straight anymore and it was clear that you had stopped the moment he had put his lips on yours. 

In a matter of what seemed both seconds and hours you found yourself flat on your back, your dress pulled down to reveal your tits and the skirt pulled up with your panties dangling from one of your ankles.

“Hm, you have a pretty one,” Minho hummed. It was taking everything in him not to bury his face in your pussy and messily eat you out until you were shaking and crying from overstimulation, but this was your first time and he had to contain himself. 

“Minho, please do something,” you wailed once again, every ounce of shame was long gone from your body, replaced with pure lust and need for the man in front of you. Minho didn’t answer, his eyes moved to yours. His piercing gaze hypnotized you and nailed you on the spot, you couldn’t look away. He slowly lowered himself and when he was at eye level with your pretty pussy he gently pressed his lips right onto your clit. Your back bowed and arched off the bed; this feeling was so foreign and intense that it overwhelmed you but in the best ways, you never wanted Minho to stop. Almost like he could hear your thoughts, he peeked his tongue out of his mouth and gave you lick and then another and then another until he was slowly and passionately making out with your most sensitive and private part. Your breath hitched in your throat, obscenely loud moans slipped past your lips and for a second you worried about your roommates hearing the two of you but ultimately decided that you didn’t care.

So immersed in your pleasure, you almost didn’t notice Minho’s fingers circling your entrance until he was gently pushing them in, their drags against your slick walls felt weird but the more he pushed the more the feeling changed into a truly intoxicating one. 

Pleasure pooled and swirled into your gut as Minho worked his magic on you.

“Oh Minho, I’m close, I’m so close,” you hadn’t even realized you had spoken until the words had left your mouth. Minho hummed and sucked your clit into his mouth a little harder while thrusting into your sweet spot with a little more vigor. The coil in your belly suddenly snapped and you thrashed around in Minho’s hold. The orgasm was glorious, you swore you had seen stars. 

Minho continued to lick at your slit until you were whining and whimpering. You were completely exhausted but strangely your body had never felt lighter. 

A warm towel pressed against your pussy and you jolted, you hadn’t even realized that he had moved from between your legs. 

“How are you feeling? Did you enjoy yourself?” he softly asked while he cleaned you up.

“It was great, thank you,” your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“C’mon, let’s get ice cream.” His hands wrapped around your wrist and he helped you stand.

“Ice cream?” you asked  confused.

“I was the first ever man to ever be between your legs, I can’t abandon you right after.”

The walk to the ice cream parlor was quiet, but not awkward unlike what you expected. Minho’s presence was warm and welcoming, he made you feel safe and you felt like you didn’t need excessive words to fill up the silence, basking in each other’s presence was enough. 

“Minho, can I ask you something?” He nodded. A man of few words, you thought.

“Why did you keep calling me pretty?”

“Because you are pretty,” he mumbled, his ears were starting to get red.

You felt butterflies swarm your stomach.

“We should go out sometimes,” he spoke so softly that you had almost missed it. His ears were now completely red.

“Yeah, we should.”

[clonerightsagenda]

Thank you for applying for a library card!

We are a large metropolitan library with twelve branches here in the city and a consortial agreement with ninety-seven different timelines (and counting). Your card is your ticket to our physical and digital collections, where we have something for everyone.

You’ve indicated that you are licensed for time travel and regularly travel in time or between timelines for work purposes, so you are eligible for our trans-timeline borrower’s card. Please read this document carefully to ensure you’re using your new card to its fullest potential and in compliance with library policy.

Our services:

The library has a floating collection, meaning items remain at the branch where they were returned rather than being sent back to the lending branch. However, we do return inter-timeline loans to their home universe to minimize temporal strain. If you’re browsing the shelves and see a book phasing in and out of existence, alert an employee. It’s probably misshelved.  

Our new online system allows you to keep the same login information in all timelines. No more keeping track of dozens of passwords! If you previously created multiple logins tied to one card, visit the circulation desk, and we’ll merge your accounts for you. No, this will not make you responsible for alternate selves’ outstanding fines, and any version of yourself telling you that is lying to you.

You asked, and we listened. Our new online catalog displays reviews from patrons from all relevant timelines on items exceeding a 90% similarity score. We request that patrons keep debates over the superiority of their timeline’s version to venues other than our catalog.

Although our staff members are not medical professionals, they have been trained to recognize signs of temporal instability. If you are experiencing characteristic symptoms (faintness, disorientation, physical and/or mental age changes, etc.), a staff member can administer grounding agents until emergency services arrive.

The library has a robust inter-timeline loan system. If you’re looking for a book or article not published in this timeline, fill out our online form or ask at the circulation desk. The average wait time for an ITL request is five business days. That’s shortened to three if you’re requesting an item stored at the James Patterson Interdimensional Warehouse. (Note: This estimate may change as the warehouse continues to expand under its own power, or if our courier gets lost there.)

Our policies:

We do not accept returns before the publication date (month and year). Cataloging books paradoxically created through stable time loops gets too complicated. You can check a book’s month of publication in a review journal like Booklist, which we make available online and in our non-circulating magazine collection.

We’ve recently gone fine-free in this timeline, meaning we no longer charge fees for overdue books. This policy varies between consortium timelines depending on whether certain people on the board of directors have retired yet.

If a book is damaged beyond repair, lost in a Time Hole, or overwritten out of existence by timeline changes, you will be responsible for the replacement cost or a flat fee of $30, whichever is lower. We do not recommend attempting to rewrite time to avoid losing or damaging the book, as we would prefer to purchase a new copy rather than tear a hole in the fabric of reality.

Patrons may use our computers for two hours. You can extend this time if there are no other patrons waiting. Show respect to other library users and do not abuse time travel to circumvent the policy when there is high demand. We will notice if there are two of you at our computing stations. Yes, even if one of you is wearing a funny hat.

The library values your privacy. We will not disclose account information or the content of reference transactions to anyone, including alternate versions of the account holder. The library also does not keep a record of the materials you check out. However, some of our databases do track user data. If you need to conceal your presence in this timeline to avoid paradoxes, the Time Cops, or your ex, we keep a collection of electronic resource licenses at the reference desk so you can judge which products to avoid.

Holder vs. Holder found that copyright protections extend across timelines and prior to publication, and copyright is exclusive to the iteration who created the work. Patrons attempting to copy library materials and publish them under their own name will have their cards revoked, even if they created the material in another timeline. This policy was adopted after consultation with our legal team. Trans-timeline copyright enforcement is very aggressive.

The library respects the personhood and autonomy of patrons no matter their timeline of origin. However, this respect is not always universal. If you need to know what the laws are for time travelers/alternate selves/dimension-hoppers/“timeclones”/etc. in this dimension (or the terminology used to refer to them), stop by the reference desk.

Violence is against library policy. If you are about to battle your alternate self from another timeline because you ran into each other in the cookbook section, take it to the parking lot.

In conclusion:

Libraries are committed to free access to information, and with the resources of dozens of timelines available to us, our mission has only gotten bigger. In fact, we’re hiring! If you’re looking for somewhere new to apply your time travel certification, we’re looking for team members in our inter-timeline loan department. Entry-level courier positions do not require an MLIS. Familiarity with James Patterson is a plus.

We can’t wait to see you in our library. (Maybe we already have.)  

[zephyrspace]

even if you have a rosary, who will save you now?

gn!yuu, very short headcanons + scenarios

summary: yuu accepts that there is no way home and that the world will keep turning no matter what. with no worth to their name and no real purpose in this twisted wonderland, except for solving other people’ problems, they decide to stop caring.

cw: swearing, violence, blood. dm me if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: title is translated lyrics from the song US by ruby ibarra. imagine yuu as however and whoever you want!

“woe is me, prefect! i just have so much paperwork to do that i completely forgot about your weekly food allowance. however, to speed things up a bit, if you lend me a hand here, i could probably get the allowance before the end of next week!”

yuu slinks over to one of crowley’s stacks of paperwork and ruffles through it. not without noticing how some pages were completely blank, ‘probably to bulk up and exaggerate the stack,’ yuu thinks and their eye twitches.

crowley gulps at being caught. but neither of the two say anything about it.

“i’m sure at your grown age you’re supposed to be able to manage your time better than this, but of course i didn’t expect anything from you.” yuu throws the binded document carelessly over their shoulder and onto the floor.

“wha-”

“as a minor under your care, this kind of thing could be considered child labour and abuse. especially for not prioritising my allowance.”

“but, prefect-”

“in other words, this isn’t my problem, bird shit for brains. so, unless you want me to call whatever magical bullshit equivalent you have of child protective services you have in this world, go ahead, give me your work documents. i would be ever so happy to oblige.”

the prefect’s eyes were icy and the atmosphere in the office turned chilly. crowley attempts to smarten up and clears his throat.

“i will have the cheque ready before noon.”

looking down at crowley, yuu sends him a smile with no trace of warmth.

“that’s better.”

unhinged!yuu wouldn’t actively seek out to fight people unless students do it to them first, which is all the time. kind of like ‘i’m nice to you if you are to me. but the second i deem you an enemy, you’re done’ mindset.

those who knew and were ‘friends’ with yuu, didn’t believe in their newly acquired attitude at the beginning, but after a group decided it’d be funny to poke at yuu a bit during lunch, that’s when they realise that yuu was serious about not caring for anything at all.

“oi, magicless runt.”

taking a bite from their sandwich, yuu looks up at the senior holding a tray of food, “hm?”

“get up.” the senior’s friends behind him snicker.

“why?” they take another bite. ‘i wish adeuce and grim would hurry up with their food.’ yuu thinks.

“there’s no more seats.”

“mhm?”

“as your seniors, we get priority.” the senior’s smile widens.

“hm.” another bite. “ish that shou”

with crumbs and sauce at the corners of their lips, yuu wipes it off with their thumb and licks it. they gulp down the remainder of the sandwich.

“sorry, senior. but i don’t see that rule anywhere in the canteen.” they swipe off the leftover crumbs on their hands.

“i thought you’d might say that.”

the senior picks up a bowl from his tray and dumps soup onto yuu’s head.

it’s still boiling hot.

it hurts.

“scram, first year. before i do something worse-”

the senior is on the floor, on his knees and doesn’t realise blood is seeping from his nose until it drips onto the tile.

by now, the whole canteen is silent.

he doesn’t even get time to process what happened until he feels a shin connect with his side and launches him onto another nearby table, his legs dangling off the side, uniform ruined.

“why you-” one of his goonies attempt to throw a punch back at the prefect.

yuu grabs his wrist and used the momentum to throw the senior onto his back. he chokes on the impact.

the rest of the group stays at their spots. ‘smart choice,’ yuu scoffs.

the prefect walks over to the first senior lying against the now abandoned table and grabs whatever food was on the nearest plate and forcibly stuffs it into the senior’s mouth. a whole bread roll.

“oh, senior! i see you’ve found a table to sit at!” the senior had tears along his waterline from the gag reflex of having a whole roll of bread in his mouth.

yuu shoves the bread roll further down the seniors throat. twisting and turning it. the senior makes sounds of retching and pain. “although, preferably, it’d be better to sit on the seat rather than on the table, no?”

the senior could only nod at yuu’s words.

yuu pats his hair demeaningly.

“good boy.”

in essence, yuu becomes very assimilated to nrc. scarily so.

[tightjeansjavi]

𝑺𝒘𝒊𝒑𝒆 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒅

Sex Escapades With Agent Peña

(Javi Peña x f!reader) NSFW����

A/N: and so the sex escapades with Javi P begin! 🥵

Summary: a lazy Sunday morning with your boyfriend Javi Peña ends up with you using his face as your personal seat.

~word count: 2.0k~

Warnings: smut with no plot, established relationship, work relationship, oral receiving (female) face sitting, cum eating, teasing, edging, dirty talk, praise kink, consent, Javi Peña really loves eating pussy. (+18) minors dni !

Lazy Sunday mornings with your boyfriend, Javi Peña, were your absolute favorite. It was the one day out of the entire week where he was all yours. No interruptions, no Escobar, no incessant calls from Murphy. Just you, and Javi, secluded from the outside world in your cozy apartment.

You had been secretly, yet not so secretly dating Javi for 6 months now. You worked at the US Embassy in Colombia as a receptionist. How did you cross paths with Agent Peña exactly? Well, he needed an important document taken care of and you were working the late hours. All it took was for him to make a comment about your nail polish looking pretty, and for him to look at you with those deep brown eyes, and you caved instantly.

So, maybe you also fantasized about the DEA agent on a daily basis. He’d stride in, wearing another unnecessarily tight shirt, wearing his classic aviators. He was absolutely a tall glass of water that you were begging to get a taste of.

Now? You could have him whenever, wherever, and however you’d want him. Javi lived for pleasing you. You connected on various different topics but what really drove it home for you, was how passionate of a lover Javi Peña was.

No details went unnoticed by him, especially in the bedroom. You had no idea just how many times you were capable of cumming from under a man’s tongue, till he stepped into your life. He loved lapping at your pussy, drinking in your moans and mewls that he elicited from you with his skillful tongue. Your nails would be scraping his hair, leaving scratches on his scalp, as you would desperately try to clench your legs around his head when the euphoric tingling would become too much. He’d whispered against your ruined cunt, “patience, cariño. I’m not finished with you yet, pretty girl.” he’d let out a low hum, knowing how his voice would vibrate deliciously up your core.

Your boyfriend knew how to ruin you in many different ways and he never left you feeling unsatisfied. It was about your pleasure above his. It was the sexiest fucking thing, to have a man that practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

On this particular Sunday, you were comfortably lying between his tan, bare, muscular thighs. Neither of you were shy to be naked in front of each other in the slightest. You had reached a level of intimacy that you never dreamed you would find with anyone. His chest was pressed firmly against your back, and the familiar scent of his cologne, musk, and cigarette smoke wafted through your nose. Javi always had a cigarette pursed between his lips.

His softened cock, was resting comfortably along the top of his thigh, the rigid head was dribbled with precum and all you would have to do is lean over and drag your tongue along him, and lap up the musky residue from his skin. You were painfully aware of how close his fingertips were to your inner thigh, flexing against the soft, plush skin.

His free hand was clutched around a book, one that you had lended to him. You both knew that he wouldn’t make it through a page, let alone a chapter, just by the way his fingers slowly inched closer to your pussy.

“What’re you thinking about cariño? My pretty girl.”

You let out a low hum, glancing up at him through your lashes, as you lifted your hand from his thigh and brought it to his jaw, dragging your fingers along the stubble on his chin.

“Mmm..you really want to know?” Your thighs had spread open at the slightest, on impulse as if his fingers alone had coaxed them open from the slightest touch.

“I could always guess. I’m rather good at that, wouldn’t you say? Know exactly what’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours baby.” he tapped his fingers along the apex of your inner thigh, nudging them open more.

“I think I have you beat this time Javi.” You let out a soft sigh, sinking back against his chest, letting your body, mind and soul, relax against his broad frame.

“Oh? Is that so? Well, we’ll just have to see about that baby. So, you don’t want me to touch you then?” He plucked his dying cigarette from between his lips, tapping it down on the ashtray on the nightstand alongside your bed, along with the book, before he brought his arm around your waist, gently easing your body up into a sitting position. He used his thighs as leverage to spread you open more, and rested his chin along the side of your shoulder.

“Oh no, I do want you to touch me, please baby. I want to do something else though. Something that I think you and I would really fucking enjoy.” You turned your head towards him, easily capturing his lips between yours. You kissed him languidly, feeling his broad nose bump into yours as he inhaled, breathing hot air down your throat, as his tongue slipped between your lips, teeth clashing.

“Mmm. What did you have in mind this time, cariño? Lay it all on me, baby. I’m all ears.” He mumbled against your lips, taking your lower lip between his teeth, biting down as he tugged it out before releasing it.

“I want to sit on your face baby.” You confessed, and grabbed his hand that was still wrapped around your thigh, and placed it over your aching cunt. You both took a shuttered breath as his broad fingers slowly dragged through your slick folds. You were dripping for him. The slick walls of your pussy were already clenching around air, and he had barely touched you.

“You wanna sit on my face princesa? Never thought you’d ask. Mmm, look at you baby, spread wide for me, dripping already. You’re absolutely filthy cariño. absolutamente sucio para mí niña bonita.”(absolutely filthy for me pretty girl)

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, baby. It’s all for you. Always for you.” You mewled as his fingers dragged through your arousal, circling around your clit as your jaw went slack.

“I know, my pretty girl. Always so good for me. Want me to play with you first? I know how much you love when I play with your pretty little pussy, cariño. How’s it feel? Feels good?..that’s it..” He praised you, letting his lips drag from your lips, down your chin, nipping at your skin lightly.

Javier Peña was 100% a biter, and you loved it.

“Feels so nice baby..so good..” You sighed softly, your lashes fluttering shut.

“So good for me baby, so good.” He cooed.

When Javi’s teasing became too much, too overwhelming, and had your mind spinning, you turned around in his lap, your hands finding purchase around his thick thighs as you straddled his hips. He was already grabbing a handful of your ass, kneading the plump flesh between his greedy hands, bringing one hand down against your left cheek with a harsh smack.

“You ready to take your seat, cariño? Can’t wait to taste you, baby. I want to feel you dripping down my chin baby. You think you can do that for me?”

“I can do that for you. Yes, please baby.” You used his thighs as leverage as he laid his back against the pillows.

“I know you can. Can’t wait to absolutely be suffocated by your sweet pussy and thighs baby.”

He caught your lips in a chaste kiss, your tongues tangling together momentarily as he easily pulled you up his chest, breaking the kiss away to spread your thighs apart as you settled yourself over his face, only the top of his dark brown curls could be seen.

You could feel his hot breath fanning your core, causing a tingle to creep up your spine. His blunt nails dug deliciously into the purchase of your thighs, as his nose bumped against your clit, eliciting a whine from the cavern of your throat.

“Going to have you screaming my name soon, baby. Gonna fucking drink you dry. Want to feel your thighs trembling around me.” His voice was muffled against your hot skin.

His tongue dove into you, licking a hot stripe up your core as he lapped your pussy. He started with slow, methodical strokes. You writhed above him, bringing one hand down into his hair, gripping the tendrils tightly between your manicured nails. Your other hand was gripped onto the headboard, knuckles stark white as he swirled his tongue around your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

He sucked harshly, feeling your thighs begin to tremble. He was absolutely devouring you, like you were his last meal. Javier Peña loved nothing more than having his face buried deep in your pussy, tongue lapping up your sweet juices that were elicited by his sinful mouth.

You were a mess above him, feeling your thighs clench in around his head as you started to grind your hips into his face, desperately wanting more as you chased your impending orgasm. You were panting out his name mixed with a slew of curses. “Fuck—fuck Javi! I—I’m so close, baby. Please please don’t stop!” You whined.

“I’ve got you princesa. You taste so fucking sweet baby, and all for me. C’mon. Keep riding my face, just like that cariño. Doing so good for me. So fucking good.”

He squeezed your thighs, urging you on as you continued to grind your hips into his face. His broad, firm nose continuously bumped into your sensitive clit, over and over again.

Javi. Javi. Javi.

When your impending orgasm finally hit you, the air felt like it was being knocked out of your lungs, stolen from your body as you screamed his name. Your entire body shuddered above him. Thighs quivering and clenching around his head. Your eyes rolled back, lips parted open as your head dropped between your shoulders.

You caught a glimpse of Javi’s darkened pupils looking up at you. Even as you came down from your high, catching your breath, his tongue continued to lap you up. He couldn’t get enough of your sweet pussy on his taste buds. It was like a fucking drug. Sweetest fucking thing he ever tasted.

You were desperately trying to push his head away, feeling spent and overly sensitive. “Javi, baby. I can’t. Please, no more. I’m—”

“Shhh…you’re okay baby. I got you. You’re okay cariño.”

He pressed a soft, feather light kiss to your clit before he gently eased you off his face, his chin, mustache and nose were coated in your juices. His face was absolutely glistening and slick with you.

He cradled you against his chest, gently stroking your hair, patting it down as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Your thighs found their home around his hips, hugging yourself tightly to him. He loved that your thighs had continued to tremble around him.

“You did so well for me baby. Always such a good girl for me. Did you enjoy yourself?” He spoke softly, his lips still gently pressed to your temple, tasting the salt from your sweaty skin.

“Yes, baby. Told you it would be an enjoyable experience for both of us.”

“Anytime you wanna sit on my face like that, you just let me know, okay princesa?”

“You loved it that much?”

“Loved every fucking second of it baby.”

You nuzzled your cheek into his chest closing your eyes as he continued to sweet talk you. As soon as your body had relaxed, he gently lifted you from the bed, carrying you to the bathroom where he proceeded to run you a relaxing bath. He joined you of course, holding you between his thighs once more as he gently washed your body. The rest of the afternoon was filled with napping, cooking together, and simply enjoying one another’s company. Thank god for lazy Sundays, and thank god for Javier Peña’s pussy eating skills.

[twstowo]

I noticed that you opened the ask box, so I came to ask for Floyd x Yuu with the scene from "The Little Mermaid", in which Ariel saves Eric from shipwreck, like it was an au where they met like that

I hope i'm not being too picky with my order ♡

♡OMG, I literally thought about this but with Azul, but then I was like, "Would Azul be able to save you?" because I have this mental image of him not being able to swim very well/being really slow. Lmao

♡Warning: Drowning

You'd always been a wanderer at heart, eager to explore the world, discover new places, and connect with people. Your adventure began when some sailor buddies welcomed you aboard their ship. Days at sea were filled with chants, parties, drinks, talks, and lending a hand to everyone. Once on land, you made the most of each day, wandering through cities and villages, documenting your experiences, and sketching landscapes. Your circle of friends in these new lands expanded so much that monthly, you'd receive a flood of cards and gifts, making it a challenge to find a spot for them all. Life was easy-going, a privilege granted by your birth into a well-off family, affording you the means to sustain yourself in these faraway places.

As you wrote letters to your distant friends, the sea's scent became a comforting constant, making you feel more at home on the waves than on solid ground. With night approaching, you finished the last letter and stepped out for a walk before dinner. It was then that one of your sailor friends, looking pale and alarmed, rushed towards you. "A storm's heading our way!" The wind had already picked up, and though storms at sea were nothing new, the urgency in your friend's voice unsettled you. "This one looks really bad, we might need your help," he said, and you nodded, following him.

With the wind intensifying, tasks on the ship became more challenging. The wind seemed determined to push everyone off the deck, and as you struggled to secure the unruly sails, your hands felt the sting of the rope. Panic spread across the crew, and for the first time, you feared this might be your last adventure. Looking at the encroaching storm, escape seemed impossible.

"Look out for that barrel!" you screamed as you watched the object land on someone's head, sending them tumbling down the ship. You ran towards them, grabbing their hand and holding it with all your strength to prevent the man from falling into the wild sea. The boat waddled with the strength of the waves, and you started to fear it would turn around at any moment.

"Don't let go!" you told him as you tried to pull him back up. You watched the fear in his face fade as he placed all his hope in your confident words. However, uncertainty crept in as the strength drained from your arms. The biggest wave you had ever seen approached the boat. You feared you'd never see your friends and family again as you said your last words before the wave hit all of you. "Fuck!-"

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You felt so cold, your body shivering as you slowly opened your eyes. It was mainly dark, but you could see some strange light from above reaching towards you. Nothing made sense as your brain tried to process everything around you. Strange wood started sinking around you, and the bodies of the crew members slowly sank by your side in a slow rhythm. You tried taking a deep breath, but your brain didn't allow it as you realized that you were underwater, having fallen off the boat after that huge wave hit it.

You finally grasped the situation as you started flapping your arms and legs around, trying to reach the surface. Wood pieces hit you along the way, sending you tumbling repeatedly. You feared the oxygen would not be enough for you to save yourself. Your throat burned as you tried holding your breath, unable to swim back to the surface. Everything started to become dark as you dared to breathe in the water. Then, you felt a strange touch on your shoulder. The lack of oxygen was surely playing tricks on you as you watched a strange creature look at you with a curious glance. You closed your eyes, awaiting death to take you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Floyd observed your sleeping form on the sand. He had brought you to the nearest land he could find, ensuring that your chest's gentle rise and fall indicated life. It was the first time he had come in contact with a living human, finding you strangely intriguing. Although he had seen some humans at rock bottom underwater, encountering a living one was a different experience.

Attempting to wake you, Floyd shook you gently, his fin hands reaching for your shoulders. However, your eyes gave no signal of opening. Annoyed, he sighed and lay back on the sand, half of his long tail submerged in the water.

Minutes passed as he lay there, gazing up at the sky. Strangely, after saving you, he felt in a remarkably good mood. He wanted to talk to you, for you needed to thank him, and he had questions about the inland people. Your head leaned against his shoulder, your cheek touching him, catching him off guard. He grinned as he gently arranged your hair.

When your eyes started to open, Floyd watched as you struggled to comprehend the situation. Weak and almost unable to move, you stared at his face, just a finger's distance away. You had never seen someone like him—strange ears, unnatural skin colour, and vibrant yellow/brown eyes. "Wh-Who are y-you?" you weakly whispered, and he quickly glanced behind, sitting down on the sand with his arms, reaching for the water.

“Oh My! Y/N is that you!” a voice shouted, and you tried to sit down, looking in the direction of the man who had vanished. You swore you had seen a tail—had you been saved by some sea creature? "We need to take you to a doctor!" a friend's hands reached for your arm, trying to help you stand as you continued gazing toward the ocean.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“A human? I wasn’t expecting you to take such a strange liking to one of them,” Jade mocked his brother with a grin.

Floyd wasn’t enjoying Jade's tone as he swam away. He had been interrupted by another landwalker just when he had the chance to talk with you, not even learning your name. Though he'd never admit it to Jade or Azul, Floyd occasionally returned to that beach, hoping to meet you again. Perhaps one day, the two of you would get to talk properly, and Floyd could finally learn your name.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 2

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

You breeze through the book to your own surprise. Between your other classes and your part-time gig down at the shop, you make quick work of it. You sit to transcribe the notes you made by hand into the doc as your phone buzzes.

‘Should start writing. I can meet tomorrow.’

The message is as blunt as anything else he’s said to you. Your brief first meeting with Walter still sticks in your head. You look back to the document and see another cursor in the doc. Your words are backspaced and reworded before you. You sigh. It’s going to be one of those projects.

‘Sure. I work til 2. Library?’

You put your phone down again and ignore the edits as you continue to input your notes. You don’t know why you’re doing any of it. He seems intent on doing it all himself.

Buzz. You flip your cell and cup your chin as you read the screen. ‘Can’t make it there. Daughter’s sick. Meet me here.’

Here? As in his home? That’s a lot.

You don't get it. He suggested tomorrow then just as quickly pulls the rug out. It's like every answer you have is wrong.

‘Don't work day after.’

‘Tomorrow after 2 is fine. I'll send address.’

That's it. Even via text, you hear his unbending tone. How can you argue with that punctuation?

You just type OK and leave it be. Maybe you'll get murdered. It would at least be the end of your problems. Of all the group work you’ve ever done, he’s the least compromising person you’ve ever encountered. Usually you’d be happy to let someone else take the lead but something about his demeanour just comes off condescending.

Or maybe that’s your insecurity talking.

You continue your notes in the doc. You notice the other cursor, highlighted green, moving around the page. You try to ignore the changes in real-time being made to your own thoughts. This isn’t going to be easy. At least you’ll be able to say you earned your grade.

💻

It seems a bit reckless to be walking up to stranger’s house. In fact, after reading a thriller about murder, it rings in your head as a very unwise decision. That being said, you have to get this assignment done. It might not be worth your life but what choice do you have?

You compare the house number with the address in your phone. That’s the one. One-half of a faded old duplex. You stride up the narrow walk beside the bushes and climb up the concrete steps. You knock and wait.

You’re exhausted already. You don’t know if you’re ready for this. Work was no fun. It never is. Sorting packages is no glorious deed but it pays.

You wait and go to knock again. The door opens before your knuckles can meet the wood and you nearly rap against the chest of the man behind it. You give a sheepish cringe and rescind your hand.

“Uh, hi,” you utter awkwardly.

“Mm, hey,” Walter responds, “come on.”

He checks his watch as he backs up. It’s almost three. The buses were clogged down in the city’s core and you missed your connection to his neighbourhood. He probably wouldn’t care that you walked two blocks just to make up for the change in commute.

You step inside as he stands against the door. It’s a tight squeeze. You can smell the woodsy hint of his cologne as you brush by him. You stay on the mat and lift your foot to untie your boot with one hand. You waver as he sidles by you and switch feet. You leave the worn treads by the door.

He looks to his left and you see the hooks mounted on the wall, jackets already hung there. You take the hint and put yours with them. You swipe your bag back up and follow him down the entryway and through the second door on your left.

The kitchen is lit with an amber hue, the glass shade of the ceiling light lending a soft tint to the space. He points you to the round table across from the apron of the counter and you claim a chair quietly. You peer around curiously as he marches to the counter.

He doesn’t say a word as he fills a navy blue mug. You bop your foot under the table. You feel like you’re disturbing him but this was his idea.

“Coffee?” He asks. At least he’s kind enough to ask.

“Um, no, thanks,” you wilt out, “I’m all good.”

You reach to your bag to distract yourself. You open up your laptop as you put it on the table. He sits heavily to your right, his cup clunking down onto the wood. He drags over the notebook with loose leaves tucked between the pages.

“You mind typing?” He asks, “I’m no good with the small keys.”

“Sure, uh, let me just open up the notes...” you swirl your fingers around the touchpad as he exhales. Each breath sounds exasperated.

“You’re not one of those,” he wonders, “no coffee? What, you don’t like caffeine?”

“Um, well, I have one coffee in the morning but I don’t drink it after noon or my head hurts.”

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “too bad.”

He lifts his cup and gulps again, elbows on the table as he hovers the mug between his hands. He seems like that type. No sleep, only coffee. It might explain his general demeanour.

“So, I’ll just make a second doc where we can put our draft,” you explain to another one of his rocky grumbles.

You hear something hoarser from down the hall. Coughing followed by horrid hacking. Then a moan as a door opens.

“Dad,” the thin voice wafts down ahead of the girl. She’s maybe fifteen, a blanket around her shoulders, as her reddened nose offers the only colour in her drawn face, “I need more cough syrup.”

“Faye,” he stands, his cup hitting the table just as harshly as before. “Go back to bed.”

“My head hurts,” she whimpers.

He stalks over to meet her by the fridge, “I know, sweetheart,” his softened tone surprises you, “go lay down and I’ll bring you some tea.” He opens the fridge and takes out a dark brown bottle, “here.” He hands her the syrup and she sniffles. He pats her arm gently, “don’t get me sick, kid.”

Her glazes eyes flit towards you as you sit with your hands over the keyboard. You look away meekly, caught.

“Who’s that, dad?” She asks.

“Schoolwork,” he gives the terse answer, “group project.”

“Oh,” she lets out the single syllable before she devolves back into a coughing fit.

“Lay down,” he demands.

As she retreats, he turns back and crosses to the counter. He flicks on the kettle and faces you, glaring over at you.

“Just a minute,” he says.

“Take your time,” you return gently, “she’s in rough shape.”

“Mm,” he rumbles, “I’m sure she doesn’t mind the time off school.”

[freakywrites]

Kiss me in spring

Arlecchino x fem secretary reader

Summary : Arlecchino gets quite jealous and one ups her "competition"

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

"Sorry I'm late, Miss Arlecchino!" You said opening the door to her office, the comforting smell of ink hit your nose with a hint of her perfume making your chest warm, forgetting about the bouquet in your hands. Arlecchino didn’t look up from her papers til she placed one to a neat pile of finished documents. "Good morning, it's quite alright - may i ask who are those for?" Her x pupils look at the flowers in your hands, her heart beating faster are those for her?

"These? A fellow employee gave them to me. " You said, walking to her desk to show her the small bouquet. The gray-haired womens heart dropped, and a blooming annoyance began to follow. "Aren't they pretty? I couldn't deny them." You spoke quietly, your fingers gently touching at the petals. Arlecchino stared at them, brows furrow a bit before she spoke. "What a shame they don't seem to be ones you like. it seems they need to try harder." She turned to her desk, and you pout. "It's the thought that counts, Miss Arlecchino.. I just think it's sweet - I mean, nobody gets flowers anymore." The gray-haired woman hummed irritation starting to boil almost to the brim but she wasn't mad at least she doesn't think so but uneasy annoyed she felt like she wants a small chat with that bold person who gifted you that sad excuse of a gift.

She stamped a blue folder tapping it on the desk to straighten the papers before stacking them together, turning to you. "Well, if I give you these folders and you send them to their correct addresses, I'll fill your whole living room with flowers that it'll look like spring." She said, placing the folders in your open hands. You smiled and nodded, gently grabbing the papers, running off to do your task.

Later in the afternoon

"All done, Miss! Did I do well? Will you praise me?" You said jokingly standing in front of your employers desk, who stared up at you from her desk. "Yes, good job." She said bluntly, and you nodded your head. "As for my promise." She said, getting up and walking to your side, lending her arm for you to hold. "I'll take you to your house.” You raise a brow. "Promise?...wait, I thought you were joking!" You laugh, taking her arm, and she tilted her head. "Why would I joke about that?" And you giggle."I guess you are a woman of your word one moment- How do you know where I live?" You question, and she just looked away. "I have connections, now let's get you home." She said, walking you out of office.

You arrived at your house to find it unlocked. You scrunched your face in confusion. "I swear I locked it," you mumbled, "You did." Arlecchino said, pushing the door open and the sweet scent of flowers bloomed out of the house and your eyes go wide as you see flowers on flowers all of different colors all spread across your small living room and in the middle of it all your coffee table had a bouquets of your favorites. Cupping your mouth, your eyes watered at the grand gift.

"Do you like it?" You hear her gentle voice as she hunches over your shoulder, and with a smile, you turn to hug her. Arms wrapping around her neck. "Oh, Arlecchino, I love it! it's beautiful," you said, rubbing your face against her. the gray-haired woman was stiff for a bit hands twitch as the hover over your back before hugging you even more deeply. For some reason, she feels as if a craving she has had has now been fulfilled a itch she could now scratche and a thirst that is now quenched just by having you in her arms.

"I'm glad you love it," she said, pulling away to look at your eyes, scanning your face, and you blush "can I- may I kiss you" you spoke your heart raced and Arlecchinos eyes grow wide before smiling "I yearn for it" she replied and with a nervous sigh you kissed her sweetly and she kissed back with greater yet gentle passion.

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

A/N

why am I giggling and kicking my feet (*/∀＼*)

Ngl I'm obsessed with Arlecchino that I was yapping about her so much my siblings kept calling be a lesbian but IDC SHE IS MY HUSBAND HVUGTVYBTFTVBYBYVRVT

I love her more then any other character rn she has me in a choke hold fr

Anyway love yall XOXO 💋💋💋💕💕

[lunaekalenda]

warnings: mention of the word "kidnapper", mention of guns, suggestive (?) it's just crack tbh, i'll make proper fluff and a proper fic later! btw this cute separator is from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more so thank uuu <3

your workmate entered your office quickly, closing behind her with a strong and loud bang that made you take your eyes up from the documents you were reading. a pearl of sweat was sliding down her forehead and she seemed shocked. you stood up quickly and she took your shoulders, shaking you by them.

"all good? what happens? are you alright?" you ask her, but she's still catching air when she talks.

"gun. a gun. there's a-a guy with a gun, and he's waiting for you, you have to hide. we already called the cops, so there's no ne-"

you release yourself from her grip before getting close to the window near your chair, looking to the parking lot, were your boyfriend rests against his car, while he cleans his gun with a pink glasses cloth you lended him this morning when he dropped you to work.

"cops won't be necessary, it's just my partner." your workmate looks at you with surprise, before giving a look to were he is. Sylus takes his gaze up and finds you, before waving his fingers towards you. you answer his movement by copying him. "see?"

your friend nods energetically before speaking. "i thought it was way too strange for him to enter and be polite and patient while holding a gun. it didn't fit with the kidnapper trope." her curious eyes follow you around while you put all your stuff in the bag. you smile shyly to her, before opening the door.

"thanks for the concern, but it won't be necessary from now on. he's just... an agent. that's why he has a gun, yeah, totally legal. don't worry a ton about it." you leave quickly in direction to the parking lot, where he's still in the exact same position. as soon as he sees you, he slides the gun inside its case on his belt, before taking your hips automatically when you're close enough. his lips catch yours on a welcoming kiss.

"really, i love that you're more free now and i really appreciate that you wanna drop me and pick me up from work but, could you avoid taking... that out?"

Sylus looks at his belt with his red eyes glowing in fun. he raises a brow in your direction.

"didn't knew accounting made you that horny, sweetie. though, you never told me you were into that public thing." you feel your cheeks heating up and he giggles, pecking your lips again before opening the car door for you to sit, taking your shoulder strap and putting it on the backseats. he sits on the driver's seat and ties your seatbelt. he starts to drive, humming softly the song that plays.

"no, but really, avoid taking the gun outside in public. not everyone is used to them here." he nods a couple times, his hand sliding over the steering wheel so smoothly you find yourself staring at it. he takes his free hand to your thigh, squeezing it softly.

"i promise i won't. i was just making time, i'm not used to wait for someone out of work. a work with a schedule i don't control, of course." you laugh at his words and he turns left towards home. "though, you had to see her face when she saw the gun on the belt, i thought she was gonna faint in place."

"Sylus..." you sigh. he giggles again.

"sorry, love, sorry." he passes his tongue over his lips. "next time, i'll just bring a crossword book for the meantime, yes?"

"good." he parks masterfully before powering off the car. he unties your seatbelt before leaving, opening the door for you and taking both yours and his things. your hand is the next thing he holds as soon as he's next to you. you walk together towards your apartment. he speaks on the elevator, a malicious grin appearing on his lips.

"tell your friend i'm sorry for the gun. and that it will probably happen again."

[caramelstarlight]

I’m not sure if your request are open but I was wondering if I could get a Tighnari x reader who acts like a housewife to him

No worries! It’s open as long as I’m active.

Late as heck reply, sorry about it! 💚 Anyways, here’s the story! Might be rusty, super sorry. 😭

The Fox and the Sunshine

•Green=Tighnari

•Purple=Y/N

•Setting: Teyvat, no AU. (Y/N isn’t Traveler)

——————————-•💚•——————————

You’d always take care of any chores that Tighnari couldn’t have the time for, as a result of his work and constantly needing to plan or write down to reports. Despite just dating, you both have already lived together in Gandharva ville. He’d oversee majority of the tasks and jobs, whereas you helped around the house and the occasional job or errand from him. Unable to refuse, you always accepted, not just because you felt bad, but he always needed an extra hand with work.

Today was another regular day, you’d focus on the chores at home. While carrying the laundry basket, you passed by his room. Eager to take a peek, opening the door slowly and moving up to him to see what he was doing.

Not much to your surprise, he’d be focused on documents, scribbling down with the occasional tail or ear flick. His attention primary on his work before answering you. “What do you need Y/N?” Unable to look up from his papers, instead, letting his tail gently rub against your leg with a slight smirk of happiness.

“Oh umm…I just wanted to know if you needed any extra help? I just finished with laundry and was about to fold it.” You’d tell and ask him politely, gently petting his tail while waiting for a reply.

“Oh I see. Could you lend me a hand and go check the bulletin board? That’d be helpful, I need to know what requests are there.” He’d let his tail unwrap from your leg, allowing you to be free to go check on the board.

You’d nod your head in reply, quickly touching his ears before going back to do the laundry, folding it and placing them in the appropriate spots. Mentally checking it off your list and quickly going to the bulletin board outside to see if anyone had asked about something.

“Oh?” You’d murmur softly, gently lifting a newly posted paper, taking an interest in it and beginning to read. Skimming through before letting the edge you held drop back down. ‘That was interesting…I’ll go tell him while it’s still fresh in my mind.’

His ears would perk, hearing your return and continuing to file or work on documents. When he smelt your scent in the room, he’d nod as a way to acknowledge your presence and to start talking.

“There was a new one, it was talking about a dude who was supposedly an acknowledged and renowned adventurer, did you hear about them?” The voice echoed through his ears, still as sweet as he remembers. “You have to be more specific for an answer. This could be anyone.” “Oh right. Well, they’re blond and have sunshine eyes, they’re called the Traveler? Does it ring any bell?”

His ears would perk with a flick of his tail, trying to come up with an answer as well as focusing on his work. “I’ve heard of them a few times, Amber has told us about their heroic deeds and everything.” The pen / quill (whatever u prefer for him to use.) quickly moved across the paper, effectively and efficiently filling it out before reading and working on another document.

“Hm.” You’d reply with a nod, watching him work from behind and leaning on the chair. Wrapping your hands around what you could cover on his body, observing with a smile. “Don’t worry my dear, I’ll make time for you today. Just give me about half an hour or so?”

After finishing all the documents, turning and looking up at you. “Can you go place them in their respective slots?” He’d referred to the baskets or trays he had with certain labels on them for whatever the papers were about. Handing them in piles for you to place before stretching.

“Oh! That reminds me, I have to go make us lunch! Hold on I’ll be right-“

“No need.”

“Huh?”

“No need, I’ll go buy us something with Mora. Any preference? It’s as a thank you and a sorry for being unable to spend time together.” He’d respond while looking at you, waiting for your response.

“Oh anything’s fine!” You’d respond in a heartbeat, low-key interested in what’d he’d buy. “I’ll focus on the rest of the housecleaning and chores for you!” Tighnari would nod his head before bringing you closer for a hug, wrapping his tail around your thigh and burying his face in his neck. The tip of his tail wagging after inhaling a bit of your iconic scent.

“Thank you, my Sunshine.”

[ardentprose]

Candlelight Candor

A/N: This is the first public one shot I've written in a very long time so bear with me as I find my footing again.

Type: just sweet and simple fluff; Foggy Nelson x reader

Length: 4.8k~ | 20 min

Warnings: cursing; minor suggestive thoughts; fem!reader

Feel free to message me if a necessary warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: the worst storm of the decade, an unreliable old building, and being alone with your crush, Foggy Nelson

Hell hath no fury like a New York Nor’easter. It didn’t matter whether you had grown accustomed to the brutal winters in the city that never sleeps, because each summer lulled you into a false sense of serenity before winter struck again, the sky darkened, and ten inches of snow were threatening to bury the streets.

Any sane person would be hunkered down in their home, buried under an appropriate amount of blankets, and soundly sleeping away the precious hours gifted by the closing of the workplace.

Any sane person not in love, that is.

When you got the call that Karen was trapped north of the city, as the town she was investigating was hit with the storm first, you were tempted to hang up and go back to sleep. But how could you say no to:

“Good morning, sunshine!”

It took an embarrassingly small amount of convincing for Foggy Nelson to coax you from your haven and come to his law firm to lend an extra hand in the last day leading up to a case. The enigmatic lawyer had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it.

As you tugged on your heavy duty winter coat and forced your triple socked feet into your boots, you dearly wanted to curse the man for taking advantage of your infatuation. Of course, in his mind, he thought you were just a dedicated friend, and while that may be true, it would be more honest to say you were at his beck and call because you were in love with him.

Consequently, you find yourself hunched over a small desk in a small law firm with poor heating, hoping the feeling in your fingers returns.

And that was before the lights went out.

Precarious flames flicker among documents scattered across whatever surface area could be spared. Careful of the two candles flanking your papers - one cinnamon spice and another the supposed ‘scent of rain’ - you hunch lower and squint, trying to make connections between the paragraphs of legal precedents and other such jargon in the wavering light.

You don’t know how much longer you can strain your neck, scrounging every line of text for a loophole or mistype that will get this case thrown out. The ache in your neck grows insistent until you are forced to lift your head and roll your shoulders to appease the pain for a moment. Your eyes, sore from reading in dim light, fall on the lawyer across from you, taking in the welcome sight of him compared to dull printed texts.

Albeit, Foggy sits across from you in a similar position, muttering from down-turned lips as frustration pinches his expression. Occasionally, he heaves a sigh or grunt through clenched teeth as he hits another dead end. Even still, you allow yourself a small smile at how the orange flames cast warmth on his blond locks, causing them to shimmer like spun gold between the shadows.

A prick of alertness wakes you from your dreamy gaze and casting your eyes around you for the sixth sense of being watched, you find the other partner of the firm, Matt Murdock, smiling in your direction as if he could see you.

Your smile falls immediately, though the endeavor is fruitless as your remaining blush gives you away. Despite not having vision, you knew Matt caught you making heart eyes again at your ‘strictly professional legal friend’. It wasn’t the first time Matt sent you an impish smirk or raised his brows in question at your obvious pining. Especially when you laughed too loudly at Foggy’s quips. But what about it? You liked a sense of humor in a man and Foggy Nelson was a comedian in your enamored eyes.

The maddening thing was Matt doesn’t even pause his reading, skirting over lines of Braille with the same urgency as Foggy muttering out paragraphs of legalities.

You roll your eyes and Matt’s grin widens, but you choose to ignore him, checking your wrist watch for the time.

Your glance never makes it to your wrist, but diverges instead to the window when a sudden bang knocks the glass within it’s frame. The forceful wind rattles the glass with vengeance until it settles into an ominous vibrato. It wasn’t the first time that hour, but the three of you jump in your seats all the same.

“For Pete’s sake, this case better be able to fix that goddamn window.” Foggy curses, rubbing a palm over his heart from the abrupt break in silence.

“We have to win the case in the first place.” You lament, heaving a sigh to regain a normal heart rate.��  

“We have less than an hour to find a reasonable cause to dismiss this case. But I’m pretty sure I’m reading algebra right now for all the good these candles are doing.”    Foggy groans, tussling his hair into a visible display of his perturbation. Your eyes follow the motion, happy to see something other than poorly lit paper stimulate your vision, though you sympathize with his annoyance.

“Justice never sleeps.” You quip and Foggy matches your wry smile.

“Of course the courthouse is open.” Foggy continues, flipping over another page. “Hell has frozen over but did the courthouse care? Did they reschedule? Of course not! Why indulge the safety of their tax-paying citizens when they could freeze them to death instead?”

“Whoa there, Foggy, is that the hangover talking or just you?” Matt teases, his fingers hesitating over some lines as conversation picks up.

“If anyone is hungover it’s you and your stupid smile that somehow thinks it’s appropriate to make an appearance right now.”

“I’m not the one who suggested shots last night.”

“I’m not the one who drank them all.”

“Hey, I’ve been quiet and well-behaved this entire time.”

“Guys…twenty minutes…” You interrupt, your own sense of justice dwindling by the hour.

You were more than accustomed to the bickering between the two law firm partners. Despite not being a lawyer yourself, your paralegal abilities were usually called into action since being acquainted with Nelson and Murdock over a previous case. You didn’t even work for them, yet you found yourself here more often than your own office. You also found yourself playing referee alongside legal assistance. At this point, you had helped Foggy and Matt win so many cases and stay friends while doing so, that you were an honorary member of the firm.

Foggy flips a page before him, chin resting on his fist. “I say we call the courthouse and tell them we were trapped inside. Couldn’t open the front door cause of all the…”

He squints.

His eyes go wide.

“Fuck! I found the damned thing!”

A groan of relief resounds from Matt and he throws himself back into his swivel chair, spinning to the side slightly. You break into a smile, watching the candlelight twinkle in Foggy’s eyes with his newfound ecstasy.

“Will it help win the case?” You ask, voice soft if only because of your overwhelming affection.

“This piece of evidence - or should I say lack thereof, will get this case thrown out into the nearest dumpster!” Foggy exclaims, meeting your eyes with his own mirth. Your smile grows larger at this revelation.

Matt tilts his head and once more you feel that devil grin, but you refuse to meet his invisible gaze. However, your up-tick in heart rate betrays your fear of a much bigger revelation being exposed by the brunet lawyer.

Matt seems to spare you from your fears, speaking instead of the case at hand.

“Foggy, I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know how I missed such an obvious detail right in front of me.”

As he stands up, Matt compiles his own version of documents into his briefcase.

“What an oversight on my part.”

He grins expectantly.

You throw your head back and groan, then lift your head in order to glare at Matt.

“That’s the last one, Murdock! You’ve hit your ‘blind’ joke quota for today.”

Matt pouts, jerking on his winter pea coat.

“It’s my law firm, I can make as many jokes as I want. Who am I offending?”

“It’s our law firm, buddy.” Foggy comes to your defense. “And your jokes are in poor taste only because they’re not funny.”

“Hey,” Matt lifts the strap over his shoulder and slides out from behind his desk. “I’m funny.”

“Funny-looking.” You tease. Foggy snorts and points the tip of his pen at you in approval. You bite your lip to keep your grin from spreading into ‘infatuated’ lengths.

“Now, I can’t help that,” Matt gestures to the glasses in his hand before slipping them onto his nose, “given, you know, that I’m-“

“No more!” You point your finger at Matt in warning.

“Alright, jeez. Tough crowd.” Matt grins, still clearly proud of his sense of corny humor.

Before he makes his way to the door, he turns partway to explain his departure.

“I’ll head out first to meet the client early. It’s gonna be hell catching a cab in this storm. Plus the traffic will be worse…you get it.” Matt sighs and snatches his cane from where it rests beside the entryway. He lifts it as a form of dismissal.

“Good idea. I’ll revise our argument first then head over. It shouldn’t take more than a few quick amendments.” Foggy says.

Matt nods and turns to leave.

You turn back to clean up your work, but your head snaps up when you hear Matt fall against the door.

“Are you okay?” You blurt as Matt pushes himself upright on the door.

“I misjudged the space between myself and the door.” He chuckles. “Can’t see anything with the lights out.”

“Leave.”

You turn your back on Matt and his snickering.

“I don’t know how you put up with him.” You say once he’s gone and Foggy rolls his eyes in similar exasperation.

“I’ve learned to stop questioning my life choices when it comes to Matt.”

You laugh, humming in agreement. You lift your gaze to hand Foggy the collected papers across the desk and find his eyes already on you.

Before you can contemplate why his eyes take their time traveling down your face to your outstretched hand, the his easy smile lowers into contemplation once he accepts the papers. He licks his lips and begins scribbling down notes with fervor. Now that the essential information has been found, you’re left with nothing else to do but leave it in the capable hands of the brilliant lawyer before you.

Before you realize it, you’re in a candlelight-induced trance, watching Foggy’s eagle sharp gaze flit back and forth. A small, petty part of you wishes his eyes held the same concentration on you instead of the paperwork. You knew from experience how nice it was to have Foggy’s attention on you.

Meeting Foggy Nelson was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm. He had come into your life with undeniable presence and charm, which mostly stemmed from how Foggy was unapologetically himself in all contexts. He didn’t put on the airs of the egotistical disposition that many lawyers were known to have.

That’s not to say he didn’t speak up whenever he found himself in an immoral situation,  but more often than not, Foggy reserved his speeches for retelling the repertoire of stories he loved to share with those who spared him an ear. You, always a listener at heart, and therefore his dedicated audience, were usually in hysterics by the end of his theatrics.

Foggy never just told a story. No, he incorporated gestures, voices and facial expressions that brought the characters - real or not - to life. Karen and Matt had heard every story ten times over, but being the newest addition to the friend group, you took in every detail as if there was going to be an exam.

It was his larger-than-life personality that drew you in, but it was his quiet observations that captivated you. Foggy never used his social prowess to embarrass others - Karen and Matt excluded - only ever making himself the butt of jokes. If he teased you, it was only to tease you out of your shell. His questions were genuine and his gaze, reading your body language and expressions, hung on to every answer you offered him.

The first real conversation you had with him, he asked you about your background.

“So what gods - sorry, Matt, God - above orchestrated for you to be doomed with us as friends?” He asked, curiosity making his sincerity clear.

You told him your abridged life story - including the small role you felt you played, despite it being your own life. Foggy’s smile had waned into a wrinkled line and when you finished he looked at you as if you had just admitted to being from another planet.

“You are the sweetest person I know, with a beautiful heart, and I don’t think you know it. But the rest of us sure do.” His eyes sought yours long enough to ensure you believed his sincerity, then he quickly moved on to throw a jibe at Matt,, and the conversation returned it’s levity. You, however, were left reeling from his compliment.

And absolutely in love.

Doomed, more like. You muse, halting the trip down memory lane before you fell down the well-trodden path of self-doubt and hatred. You have been around long enough to hear stories of the women Foggy had dated, slept with, or fantasized about being with. You didn’t think you made the cut. You had no reason to. Foggy was an extraordinary friend but that didn’t qualify you to wish he did more than friendly things to you.

You focus back in where your eyes had taken the opportunity to stare at Foggy fingering the edges of documents while twirling a pen in his other hand. He settles the pen between his soft, pink lips, tapping it before he bites the cap, completed focused on the phrasing of his task.

A hair falls between his eyes, causing him to wrinkle his nose into an unbearably cute expression.

You send the chair stumbling backwards when you stand, and that focused gaze flies to you.

“I…um..I am…What time is it? I think we should start to head over.” You attempt to clarify.

Foggy removes the writing utensil from his teeth as his eyes analyze your abrupt movement. You feel exposed the longer he stares and start to grow nervous he somehow could hear your wayward thoughts about the dexterity of his fingers.

“Yeah…good call.” Foggy clears his throat. He stands up to gather his things and you step forward to help him.

Handing him a file, his fingers brush the back of your knuckles and your eyes flutter in response.

Cheeks warm despite the cold, you turn from Foggy and set about blowing out all the candles until you’re both left in the dark.

You walk to the door and rest your hand on the doorknob. Turning your wrist, you pull the doorknob out the socket.

Wait.

What?

You glance down at your hand.

“What the hell?” A sense of dread fills you.

“What’s wrong?” Foggy asks, immediately reacting to your alarmed tone.

When you don’t respond, he navigates his way around the desk and chairs in the dark to come to your aid.

You turn back to the door and stare at the vacant hole with consternation until you feel Foggy’s chest brush your left shoulder.

“What happened?”

The weight of the doorknob feels condemning in your palm. Foggy leans down, squinting through the dark. His cheek is inches from yours, his height enshrouding you as he peers at your hands, and any other time your heart would be beating out of your chest.

Well, it was, but for the wrong reason.

“Oh.” He says. “Shit.”

“I have no idea!” You insist before he can even turn his grave expression on you and ask. “I guess the other side of it came loose and just fell off.”

“Well. That’s just fantastic.” Foggy hooks his index in the hole and tugs hard. The door jiggles with his attempts but holds fast.

“So we’re locked in our own office?” you conclude.

Foggy growls in frustration. He stalks back over to the desk, muttering curses to himself.

“Perfect. Just perfect. Of course…worst day of my life…”

Foggy pats his waist down, pulls out his phone, and then hits the first speed dial button.

“Hey, Matt.” He says sharply. “…Yeah, the fucking handle fell off the door.”   

Morose, you glance down at the knob still in your palm.

“No, I don’t- Y/N turned the knob and it just fell off!….Yeah, I already did that.”

Foggy sighs, hums in affirmation before his shoulders drop.

“You sure? Yeah…ugh…fine yeah, okay.”

Matt must have asked for the new evidence Foggy was supposed to bring, you assume, as Foggy proceeds to explain the needed information and confirm Matt understood it all.

“Good luck, buddy. Don’t lose.”

Foggy hangs up, ceasing his pacing. His hand runs through his now tangled locks then drops to his waist. He looks at you with resignation.

“Matt says he can handle the case by himself. It’s not a full blown hearing so…he’ll come back as soon as he can. The case has already started so he doesn’t have time to run back here.”

“Oh.” The prickling sensation of tears burns behind your eyes. The last thing you want is to ever be the cause of Foggy’s stress. Hell, you spend most of your time trying to be as valuable to him as possible.

Foggy searches around him until he finds matches. He lights the nearest candle and then sits down behind his desk.

He frowns once he sees you haven’t moved from your tense stance near the entrance.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flit to his face and find Foggy smiling at you with his recognizable optimism. The kind of smile that feels like he’s sharing a secret joke with you. He drags your previous chair around the desk, beside his.

“C’mere and sit back down. We have at least three hours before Matt returns.”

You hum in assent, still clutching the doorknob as you make your way over.

Coming around the desk, Foggy’s hand darts out, shielding your hip from the sharp corner when you almost don’t clear it.

You jump at his fingers against your waist. Foggy jerks back just as quickly, his grimace apparent.

“Sorry! I didn’t want you to run into it. That corner in particular bruises like a bitch.”

You laugh, hoping the airy chuckle doesn’t betray how his fingertips ignited a reaction far from displeased within you.

“I appreciate it. And I assume you’re speaking from experience?” You sit down. Your knee brushes his, tingling with proximity. You’ve never had a reason to sit so close to Foggy before, even in the booths at bars, and without the light, you sense more than see his presence within your personal space.

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, of course. Matt does it all the time.”

“Oh, so you have practice holding his waist too?” You don’t know where this brazen energy arises from, but you blame it on the intimacy of being secluded in the office with Foggy and your only light source being a small flame that smells of cinnamon.

Foggy’s lips split before curving into a smirk. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you accusing me of making a grab at you?”

You shake your head frantically.    “No! Sorry, that was stupid. I-“

Foggy laughs, waving your apology away.

“I would hope you think more highly of me to at least buy you dinner first.” He reasons, pursing his mouth into an easy smile.

You bite your lip, eyes widening at the suggestion. Was he serious? Or were you letting your feelings cloud an obvious joke?

“Of course I think highly of you, Foggy.” You say, settling into the chair. You set the doorknob on the desk. Your brow furrows as it reminds you of how Foggy was trapped here with you instead of at the courthouse winning the case he’s worked so hard on.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, don’t feel bad about the door. This whole shitty place is falling apart.” Foggy gestures vaguely around him. Foggy must have mistaken your silence as guilt. He’s correct in assuming so, but why did he have to read you so damn well?

“No, I know…I just feel bad for you because you deserve to be in that courtroom.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it. Matt’s got it handled. I’m sure they prefer the handsome lawyer down there anyways. Case will go in our favor that way.” He chuckles.

“Handsome?” You frown, not getting the punchline.

His eyes flicker over your face as if to gage how serious you are being.

Foggy shrugs. “Out of the two of us, Matt’s the better lawyer, both in the legal department and looks department.” His half-hearted laugh fails to win you over.

“That isn’t- that’s not true.” You stumble over your words, because it would be foolish to deny the attention the brunet lawyer garners on a consistent basis. However, you weren’t about to accept Matt’s good looks at the cost of denying Foggy’s attractive features either.

Foggy snorts. He shakes his head, hair brushing his shoulders as he does so and you’re overcome with an intense need to make him realize just how important he is to everyone. To you.

“Foggy, you’re incredible to watch in action.”

Foggy’s frown is near comical with his exaggerated pout. You lean in, determined to convince him.

“Foggy, you’re a hell of a good lawyer, too. If Matt is so talented then he wouldn’t partner with someone who wasn’t on his level. The two of you have your own firm. Matt’s not your boss. He’s your equal. That goes for the ‘looks’ department as well. You’re an attractive, generous, compassionate lawyer and it’s a privilege to work with you.”

Foggy’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you rant. His eyes search your face, flitting back and forth with thoughts known only to him. His brow falters slightly and you fear he’s uncomfortable with your impromptu speech.

But eventually, that full mouth of his turns upwards.

Unfortunately, the smile he wears accompanies a glimmer in his eye that makes you lean back into your own chair.

Foggy follows you, invading your breathing space with the heady scent of his aftershave and a hint of shampoo akin to vanilla.   

“What other traits do I possess?”

All at once you realize how revealing your compliments are. Blooming crimson, you attempt a verbal retreat that Foggy has no intention of allowing.

“Oh, um…I didn’t-I just mean…”

“C’mon, tell me! Attorney client privilege.” Foggy winks, his grin upheld and only growing bolder as he rests his cheek on his fist, full attention on you now.

Well, you did wish for that.

“Technically, to be your client I would need to pay you first.” You throw out, if only to prolong the inevitable corner of confession he was backing you into.

“Aha! So you do learn a thing or two around this office. I’ll only charge you five bucks.” Foggy retorts easily enough.

“I don’t have money on me, but since you’ve been known to accept fruit baskets, would you accept other forms of payment?”

“What do you have in mind?” Foggy’s grin is downright devious.

Your eyes widen as you effectively have backed yourself into the corner you were trying to avoid.

A nervous laugh bubbles from your racing heart as you shake your head, waving your hand too for good measure.

“Nothing! I’m kidding, Foggy.”

“Blood money? Was it blood money?”

“No?…No, it was a stupid joke.”

“Tell me.” Foggy sits up, his demeanor becoming serious.

“Please?” He whispers.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to swallow down the thundering of your heart as silence permeates the dimly lit atmosphere between you two.

Maybe it’s the influence of the warm fire painting Foggy’s gaze in such a soft, accepting light, as if he already knows what you’re thinking - or is even feeling it too. Maybe it’s the months of holding back the truth from someone you would tell anything to in a heartbeat. Maybe it’s the hope that ultimately outweighs the anxiety that causes you to admit it.

No longer do the candles, blizzard, or darkness feel like a hindrance. Now they feel intimate, cozy, and warm.

Romantic.

“I was gonna say…something super corny like, “just my undying affection.” You feel like an idiot, grimacing with the confession.

Your eyes dare to check Foggy’s expression, knowing he’s probably gonna reel back in aversion.

Instead, Foggy scoffs, shaking his head slightly. “You’re affection? Jeez, now that’s nowhere near corny.” He purses his lips and his hair brushes his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Earning your attention, let alone your affection - damn, I would win a hundred cases for you, guaranteed!”

You want to blame the playful words as an excuse to ignore the sincerity in his tone, but your body reacts before you can, heart leaping with a thrill of joy and your lips begging for more.

“Guaranteed?”

“Nothing drives a man like his unwavering passion for the woman he adores.”

You must look crazed, in the throes of shock as your brain tries to process the meaning behind his words. Foggy adores you? Really?

Your mouth continues to take the lead.

“You mean that?”

Foggy lifts his hand in the distance between you, which is scarce, and hesitates a second before placing his warm hand atop both your hands picking at each other’s fingertips. The weight of his palm and the comfort of his grip squeezes your fretting hands still. You release a soft exhale.

“Y/n, I’ve never been more serious.    I’ve adored every detail of yours since you graced my office.”

You don’t know what to say, so you nod.

You keep nodding until it dawns that your feelings are reciprocated, perhaps more than you dared hope for.

And then you’re smiling, beaming, and still nodding, as Foggy brings the hand up from your grasp and cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb over in a silent hello before he presses his lips to your mouth.

You press in, feeling him wholly as mint overwhelms your senses. Your lips move with his, chin lifting as you chase his mouth and he meets you once more, applying pressure before he withdraws, and releases your bottom lip from his teeth.

You can’t see much in the dark anyways, but right now you can’t see a thing. Only spots that accompany the ringing in your ears. You might be light-headed too.

Your dazed silence breaks when Foggy’s whisper begins to escalate.

“Before I have a heart attack…tell me I didn’t screw this up. If I read it wrong and you were just joking-“

“No, no! It’s just…I can’t believe you like me back.” Your laugh is a soft exhale before a sharp intake of breath.

“This isn’t some ‘lights go out and we’re vulnerable in the dark confession.” Foggy says as he cups your face once more.

“I mean every word I say in the dark.” He kisses you again and you welcome his eager affection before he pulls back. You open your eyes just in time for the lights flicker on with a stumbling hum as the building regains power.

“And the light.” Foggy tacks on to his previous statement.

You snort, biting your lip in vain to stop your giddy smile.

“That was pretty fucking cool timing if you ask me.” He says, the same elated grin on his flushed visage.

“That was, I’ll admit.” You laugh. You run your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of his kiss.

“I wish someone could have witnessed it.” Foggy continues to rave, basking in your growing smile of amusement.

“I did.”

Matt stands in the doorway with a wicked grin.

“Missing something?” He asks. Your eyes flit down to his hand.

The other side of the doorknob.

Matt waltzes over to the desk, grabs the doorknob, then returns to the entry and slides it back into place.

Your frown deepens when he unpockets a screw. Within ten seconds the door is fixed with a good rattle to test it out.

“Lucky thing the case got canceled. You guys would have been stuck in this room all night.” Matt says, passing you both on his way to his office. Presumably to start the next caseload.

Foggy breaks first, swiveling in his chair to jab a finger at Matt’s retreating back.

“You bastard!”

Matt spins around once he’s behind the door of his office. He gives ample time to leave his smirk on display as he closes the door in a slow, dramatic fashion until it clicks with finality.

And with it, a realization of his strange behavior today.

You gasp.

Matt never left the building.

[tokidokitokyo]

石川県

Japanese Prefectures: Chūbu - Ishikawa

都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan

Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!

Kanji・漢字

石　いし、セキ、シャク、コク　stone

川　かわ、セン　stream, river

県　ケン　prefecture

中部　ちゅうぶ　Chūbu, Central Japan, the central region of Japan

Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Kanazawa (金沢市)

Ishikawa Prefecture lies along the scenic north coast of Honshu, the main island of Japan, and is part of the central region, known as Chūbu (中部) or Hokuriku (北陸). Ishikawa combines contemporary art and ancient crafts, stunning ocean or mountain views, relaxing hot springs and traditional Japanese inns. Kanazawa boasts a vibrant geigi (芸妓) culture (think geisha), a bustling seaport in Kaga, and mountainous terrain in the Hakusan region.

This region was hit by the 2024 New Year's Noto Peninsula earthquake, with the most devastation occurring in the northern part of the peninsula. Many businesses and much of the economy relies heavily on tourism, and now is a good time to visit to assist in revitalizing the community, especially in minimally affected areas such as Kanazawa and Kaga.

Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット Kutani Ceramic Art Village - 九谷陶芸村

Kutaniyaki (Kutani ware) (source)

Kutani ware is probably the best known in Ishikawa and the Noto peninsula. There are many kutani ware souvenirs to be found in Ishikawa, and you can even take classes to make your own pottery. Kutani ware contains five distinctive colors: red, yellow, green. purple, and blue. The rules for Kutani ware are few, so the freedom allowed in creating the pottery is practically endless. The high quality of the porcelain stone found in Ishikawa further lends itself to the distinctiveness of the pottery. In the city of Nomi you can find the Kutani Ceramic Art Village, which is also home to a museum documenting the history Kutani ware and how it is made. Nearby is Cerabo Kutani, a workshop where you can make your own Kutani ware pottery.

The history of this pottery dates back to 1655, when the first daimyo feudal lords of what was then the Daishoji domain wanted to make the most of the porcelain stone found in the area. A gold smelter was sent to Saga Prefecture to learn pottery, and when he returned he opened a kiln in the village of Kutani. This pottery became known as Ko Kutani, a predecessor to Kutani ware in its present form. This kiln operated for 50 years, and then closed down, for reasons unknown to historians.

The next kiln was opened in 1805, when a craftsman skilled in Kyoto pottery came to Ishikawa with his apprentice. The apprentice found the porcelain stone that is local to the area, and the pottery that they created became the modern day Kutani ware.

Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理 Kanazawa Oden - 金沢おでん

Kanazawa oden (source)

Oden is a popular traditional street food dish that can be traced back to the Edo period (1603-1868) in Japan. It is traditionally a dish of various ingredients simmered in soy-based broth and the simple yet warm and nourishing dish can still be found all over Japan today.

Kanazawa oden is a regional variation from the city of Kanazawa in Ishikawa, and is particularly distinctive from other types of oden due to the broth, which is carefully crafted from a blend of soy sauce, dashi (stock made from kombu seaweed and bonito flakes), and other seasonings such as mirin, sake, ginger, and garlic. Kanazawa oden ingredients include crab (only available in the winter!), plum shell conch, and fish balls. Kaga vegetables such as gensuke radish and wheat gluten are also staples in this dish.

Although Kanazawa oden can be enjoyed year-round, to get kani-men or stuffed crab shell you need to visit in the winter months.

Ishikawa Dialect・Ishikawa hougen・石川方言

The dialects of Ishikawa Prefecture are Kaga dialect (加賀弁, Kaga-ben) spoken in the southern part of the prefecture, and the Noto dialect (能登弁, Noto-ben) spoken in the northern part. There are also multiple dialects within each of the primary dialects, thanks to the mountains separating the villages. The below examples are primarily Kanazawa dialect.

1. あんやと、あんがと　anyato, angato

Standard Japanese: ありがとう　(arigatou) English: thank you

ああ、あんやと。 ah, anyato

ああ、ありがとう。 ah, arigatou

Oh, thank you.

2. ～しまっし　～shimasshi

Standard Japanese: ～してください、～しなさい　 (～shite kudasai, ～shinasai) English: please do ～, do ～

そこへ座るまっしね。 soko e suwaru masshi ne.

そこへ座ってくださいね。 soko e suwatte kudasai ne.

Please go ahead and sit there.

*Note: The masshi structure is the most famous Kanazawa dialect. This is also the catch phrase for visiting Kanazawa: 来まっし、金沢！ Kimasshi, Kanazawa! (Come to Kanazawa!)

3. ほうや、ほうや！　(houya, houya)

Standard Japanese: そうだそうだ　(sou da sou da) English: that's right, that's right

A: だちゃっかんわいね。 B: ほうや、ほうやね。 A: dachakkannwaine. B: hou ya, hou ya ne.

A: だめだね。 B: そうだ、そうだね。 A: dachakkannwaine. B: sou da, sou da ne.

A: That's not good, is it? B: That's right, that's right.

4. あゆるしゅう、あゆっしゅ　(ayurushuu, ayusshu)

Standard Japanese: よろしく (yoroshiku) English: nice to meet you, I'll leave it to you, please do etc.

A: デザートもたのむん？ A: dezaato mo tanomun? B: あゆるしゅう。 B: ayurushuu.

A: デザートも頼むの？ dezaato mo tanomu no? B: よろしく。 B: yoroshiku.

A: Are we ordering dessert too? B: Please do.

5. なーんも、なーん　(naan mo, naan)

Standard Japanese: いいよ　(ii yo) English: it's ok, don't worry

なぁーん、いいがや。 naan, ii ga ya.

いいえ、心配しないで。 iie, shinpai shinai de.

No, it's ok, don't worry.

More Ishikawa dialect here (JP).

[pompadourpink]

hi mom! i'm starting uni in september, i'm moving to a new city so i need to start shopping and all, but also my parents didnt really give me advice and im the eldest so im kinda lost, do you have any advice?? XX

Hello darling,

The ABC:

Uni is scary because your free-will goes from 8 to 90 in two months and freedom is intoxicating. Making up for lost chances can lead to bad choices (spending, dating, partying).

If your family failed to parent you, it is now your job. Autonomy is essential. Learn to cook, budget, clean, be clean, save, be a good citizen, make scary phone calls, keep yourself safe, prioritise.

No one will force you to get up and study, or hire you at 21 when competing with a bright 18 year old. Effort will not betray you (being a grown lazy gifted child will).

Have shared hobbies, from movie Sundays with a girlfriend to knitting with your sister. A social life is a happy life.

Trust your body, it knows. Stomach cramps mean we hate him, daydreaming means try, yawning means bed, not coffee.

The home:

Make a cleaning schedule, be open-minded and reasonable, do not do or say anything your landlord wouldn't like (I fully recommend having roommates once for exposure therapy).

If you have a neighbour your age, introduce yourself. Having that phone number will one day mean not having to sleep outside or getting a package stolen. Thank them with food.

Start documenting problems right away (photos, timestamps, screenshots, testimonies) as you may need to take action later. No emotions, you're just "worried about everyone's wellbeing".

Mould, vermine and leaks are enemies. Act yesterday.

Avoid big purchases. You don't know what the future (location, size, taste) looks like. Go secondhand, neutral, practical.

Avoid silly purchases: streaming, takeout, drinks, fast fashion. You will not regret having a downpayment saved in ten years.

If you ever need to do emergency laundry, put a bin or a bucket in the shower, add water and detergent (+ soda crystal for stains or whitening), wait an hour, rinse, wring, hang.

The shopping:

My grandmother has kept her house clean with a broom, bucket, squeegee broom wrapped in a floorcloth and Marseille soap since the 60s. When something doesn't work, look back.

Must-haves: cleaning (see #1 + cloths, soda, lemons, white vinegar, steel wool), hygiene (scraper, net, shower head filtre, first aid), night (good pillow, plugs, mask) supplies, freezer if possible, water filtre, reusable period protection, winter clothes, long chargers, sunscreen, friend living at home who will lend you tools.

Must-not-haves: anything trendy, collections (even books), a pet - don't let Felix keep you back, sleep over and study in Paris!

Have an emergency kit (+ whatever you need) + a smaller version in the car/at the office (with cash).

Fresh fruit, starches, a few types of frozen vegetables, of cans of legumes, of fresh, canned and frozen protein, a treat, something fun once in a while to experiment + a (bi-)monthly outing.

A couple of formal outfits. Large black dress pants, white shirt, dark grey thin jumper, pencil skirt, blazer, large coat, trench coat, loafers, heels, tall boots. Never slouchy or skin tight, plain.

Craigslist, Facebook marketplace, thrift stores. Spend a few hours making a perfect home board on Pinterest instead of listening to TikTok and taking what Ikea gives you.

The social life:

Make one or two real friends and cherish them forever. Support each other, travel, buy a house together, idk.

Don't be afraid to be/do things alone. You shouldn't be afraid of what your head says when it's not distracted.

Don't miss out on huge opportunities for people. Some are around out of necessity and will ghost you after graduation.

Do not try to impress, especially people you don't like and who don't like you. Do not do or say anything cops wouldn't like. Be a homebody who doesn't drink if that's what you want.

Do not try to educate those who will not learn.

Do not befriend someone who lacks confidence as they will make you pay for their jealousy, nor someone who wants a free therapist. Those relationships will be one-sided.

Befriend a couple of older girls. They will see through the lies of the people (men, classmates, employers) trying to fool you.

The love life:

The thirty-two year old man doesn't find you mature, he finds you inexperienced and malleable. Don't try meth thinking you're special enough to not get addicted.

If a date mocks you and you get mad, either that is who he is or he hates you. If you got mad, he is not for you. Your job is not to pretend you don't care so he can have a girlfriend.

Ask yourself if you would tell your best friend, mother, Taylor Swift, that he (hers) didn't mean it like that. If not, take a break from dating and think about why you think you don't deserve respect.

Don't forgive what you don't want to tolerate.

Don't try to force a relationship with someone who made it clear that he is, for whatever reason, not interested. You will be played like a fiddle until he meets someone he wants.

Don't try communicating with someone who is messing with you on purpose. No one ignores you for three days or sleeps with your friend or breaks your favourite necklace after an argument by accident. Also, your husband would never.

The daily life:

Have a clean e-mail address (firstname.lastname) for official biz and a casual one (f.lastna) for everything else, a solid password (Lanadelrey1984#) - change it yearly - and a list of the usernames and passwords you didn't pick.

If you don't trust your parents, block them off your account or open a new one when you turn 18 before they rob you.

Save a year worth of expenses, don't purchase what you couldn't buy twice now, don't replace what still works, give yourself week-long thinking periods before spending.

Get folders for your paperwork and keep them safe + take pictures for an encrypted Drive (beware of iCloud): diplomas, flat, car, big purchases, work, taxes, health, etc.

Print pics and make albums. One day, the app will die.

Mind your health. Exercise weekly (cardio/strength, ex: runs + weighted Pilates), walk, get more water, sleep, and fibre, take vitamin D, mind your eyes/ears/skin/teeth, stretch, leave.

Only invest energy, money, or time into what is worth it. FaceTime before the date. Get secondhand leather boots instead of replacing plastic. Drop the book after 100 bad pages.

Refuse conversations with people whose lives you wouldn't want, who happily overwork for a mediocre wage and don't know how old their children are. The handcuffs are homemade.

The job:

People will not forget how you made them feel and the world is a small place. Colleagues, clients, bosses will gossip: make sure it is for good reason. Dress and look clean, stand straight, be on time, never ever gossip, even when you were wronged.

Understand the power of sobriety. Be known for the success of your last project, not your bright skirts or temper.

Protect future you so you get the promotion/project/raise. No friends, no enemies. Smile, have neutral answers, make them talk, move on, make your IG private, google your name.

Lie. You don't avoid them, you eat lunch with your nana (hi Paula, no, I forgot about the hairdresser's), weren't unemployed, your father was ill, cannot go out, you have a birthday party.

Act boring with the jealous old woman or the obnoxious man. Take the fake compliment for a real one, don't understand the innuendo, have too much work to chat. Bullies get bored.

Instead of clapping back (see #3), be Cinderella, who ignores the insults and turns to Mr. No nonsense, who has been there twenty years, worryingly asking if Ethel is okay, I don't know what to do (no mention of ego, you're just distraught about her).

Sites to look up: Proton (mail, VPN, drive), Notion.

Love,

Mum

(PS - apologies if the she/he thing doesn't match you, this is a flexible plan for all of my children)

[fiapple]

🛑 don't scroll ‼️Hi, I hope you are well. My name is Mohammed Atallah, I live with my parents, six sisters, a little girl named Malak and a little boy named Ameer in North Gaza. I created this link to fund a bone graft in my left hand which was shot by an explosive bullet, to rebuild our destroyed home and to evacuate my family from Gaza to a safe place.And donate any amount to safe life .. I will appreciate your help❤️ Can you please help as much as you can . Press all buttons on my wall , I beg you to visit my page, view it, and donate via the link in the bio💔The campaign has been documented @90-ghost Donate and share widely 🆘�� Every euros will make a difference 🙏

I hope you are well as you can be, too, Muhammad. I will do as much as I can to share your story and to encourage donations.

Everyone, earlier this year Muhammad, who is only 17, was shot in the left hand by an explosive bullet while carrying aid from the Nabulsi Roundabout.

(Image take from GFM.)

The resulting bone fragmentation has led to nerve loss, meaning that Muhammad will need to recieve bone grafts outside of Gaza in order to restore his hand. Donations sent to the family will also be put toward rebuilding their family home. In donating, you will be lending your support in helping a 17 year old boy heal his hand, and a family of 12 rebuild their home. They are currently trying to raise €82,000, but have only recieved about €3,270. Please donate to help this family!

(Vetted by @/90s-ghost here)

[kylobith]

Little Town Tails

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: After saving up for years, Halsin fulfils his dream and opens his veterinary practice in a quaint little town.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 1,441

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Sunlight pierces through the cherry blossoms, dancing upon the cobblestone of the old arched bridge leading into Heawick. It is a quaint little town, tucked away between rolling hills dotted with hazel trees, a grove, and meandering streams. No modern architecture has defaced its landscape, leaving its traditional limestone facades to stand the test of time, which they did brilliantly.

After all, anybody lucky enough to settle down in Heawick can only fall in love with its old streets and picturesque shopfronts, and this urged most of the inhabitants to care for the outside of their homes almost as much as they did the inside. Those who are too old to tend to them can usually rely on the kindness of good-hearted neighbours, who do not hesitate to lend a hand for anything. Trimming the growing ivy without removing it, plucking juicy fruits from branches, cleaning windows; there is never a task too daunting when it comes to helping out.

It is early on a spring morning and the elderly man who lives nearest to the bridge has already been up and about for hours to water every planter lining up the road and hanging from the old lampposts with their flaky paint. Another project held captive in the neverending pile of documents and forms on Mayor Ravengard’s desk.

The bakery at the corner of the first crossing has long finished its first batches of pastries and bread, filling the air with mouthwatering scents. A few souls are already dragging their feet to its doors, still wiping the sleep out of their eyes as they seek some warm breakfast. On the opposite side of the street, a sweaty young man carries crates full of fruits and vegetables. He sets them up outside the greengrocer's shop, ensuring they are stable enough to sustain the shaking and bumping of passersby and customers.

Near the tiny park at the heart of the town, some owners walk their dogs, waving at neighbours and friends, wishing one another good morning when they have enough caffeine in their veins to wake them up. The barber reads his newspaper on one of the benches, seizing the opportunity to enjoy the first beautiful day of the season before going to work.

All is well in Heawick, as it always is. It is rarely eventful since so few people inhabit it.

‘Come here, Scratch. Good boy.’

While giving the white dog a loving pat between the ears, Halsin turns the sign on the door, officially opening his practice. He leans casually against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the world beyond his house, a triumphant surge coursing through his veins. So many years of hard labour and sacrifice, this seemingly small victory holds the weight of a lifetime’s worth of dedication and perseverance.

After perusing office space offers on every website known to man and visiting many a wretched place, having found this little corner of paradise to establish himself was nothing short of a miracle. And what a place it is!

Everything is ready for him to welcome his first furry patients. After renovating the place himself, he designed a welcoming surgery for owners and animals alike, creating an environment in which he would not mind staying for hours on end every day. Each nook and cranny has been sterilised for the animals’ well-being and he dedicated a corner for the comfort of his own dog, whom he expects to become his official assistant. Photographs of Scratch and the pets of friends from his hometown printed on canvas are the only decorations in the waiting room, ornamenting the otherwise dull, pastel-blue walls. At the welcome desk, a duck he whittled himself sits on top of the counter between two bowls of treats; one for the pets, one for the anxious owners.

Karlach, his newly hired assistant, insisted on having more decorations brought in, but Halsin was more than hesitant to indulge her. While the young woman certainly is enthusiastic enough for both of them, he can tell that if he does not put his foot down, the practice would have stuffed animals from floor to ceiling.

After giving the place yet another proud look, Halsin walked over to the reception, sneaking a treat to Scratch on the way. He sits behind the computer and plays old-timey folk music from his music library. He stretches his back and spins around on his chair, kicking his feet.

Now he just has to wait.

While one of his favourite songs plays, he browses the latest wildlife photographs on the National Geographic website, smiling at the wholesome snapshots and zooming on each of them to observe any detail capturing his attention. He is halfway through the second page and sipping his cold herbal tea when the door opens and the little bell tinkles. His eyes shoot up and he stands from his chair.

But it is no patient. It is merely Melly, the baker’s mother, who comes to bring him some fruit pastries wrapped up in a small lavender-coloured box topped with a bow. As soon as she catches a glimpse of him, her eyes illuminate and she gives him a wave.

‘Good morning, Halsin, dear!’ she chimes.

Grinning from ear to ear, he bypasses the desk and comes to shake the old lady’s hand. Curled up on his cushion, Scratch looks up, but ignores her arrival and goes back to sleep.

‘Good morning, Melly,’ he greets her back. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, nothing, love, nothing at all! I came to see how you were faring on your first day.’

Halsin gazes around with a chuckle.

‘It has been quiet so far. In fact, you are the first person to walk in.’

‘Is that so? Ah, well, do not worry, dearie. The people in this town have been praying for a doctor and a veterinarian closer to home for decades. They will come.’

The thought warms up the man’s heart. Not that he has been worrying about the lack of patients so far, but he has come to wonder on multiple occasions about how long it would take for the first appointments to come in. He has bills to pay after all, and the renovation of what used to be a woodworker’s shop was not cheap, no matter how many things he did himself to save up on better equipment.

‘Would you like some tea, Melly?’

‘Oh, no, darling, thank you,’ she chuckles with a dismissing wave of her hand. The old woman hands him the lavender box. ‘I brought you this, thought you might need a little encouragement for your first day.’

‘How lovely of you, thank you!’

‘I will not linger, I fear that my old face would scare even the sickest hound away,’ she jokes while patting his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to take some of your business cards to display at the bakery? I’m sure that my son would not object.’

Melly does not even wait for him to respond before grabbing a quarter of the cards neatly stacked on the countertop. She shoves them in her cardigan’s pocket. The garment seems to have survived many decades, yet has retained its charm. Halsin always finds himself smiling at the sight of the ducks knitted around the waistline, complementing the beige diamond stitches all over it.

‘Do you need me to bring you lunch later, love?’

‘No, Melly, thank you. I have already planned my next few meals, but it is nice of you to offer.’

‘Very well,’ she smiles, patting his cheek. ‘You know where to find me if you need anything.’

‘I do. Thank you for everything.’

Out of courtesy, he accompanies her to the door, the pastry box seeming so tiny in his large palm, when it is a normal size in anybody else’s grasp. Before leaving, Melly turns to look at him, running a wrinkled finger underneath her chin.

‘Where is that eccentric assistant of yours? Is she not helping you today?’

‘Karlach? Oh, she is touring the neighbouring towns to leave calling cards in shops and town halls.’

‘Oh, good, good. What a tempest, this girl!’

Halsin laughs, scratching the back of his head.

‘She is, but I am sure that the animals will love her. I can already tell that she will love them first anyway.’

‘Well, as long as she works well…’

Without adding another word, Melly crosses the road, absent-mindedly waving at him while she looks around for cars. Once the old lady has returned to the bakery, Halsin takes a deep breath of countryside air and moves to close the door.

That is when he sees her.

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

Dead Friend Forever - What do we know about Non's brother

From the family pictures I am inclined to believe the brother is the older sibiling.

The younger one wears red in one of the pictures and as @shannankle point out in their colors in DFF post, Non is red.

In the family photo you can see the younger sibiling hiding behind the older one, indicating shiness, much like Non.

The other thing we find out that lends to that is that New doesn't live at home. And his parents send him money. Which makes me think he is in University, which would make him at least 19 three years from the present, which would make him at least 21 in the present timeline.

Other stuff we know (that I don't have screenshot for):

Non despite looking close to his brother in his childhood pictures can't rely on him anymore in the present, we only see Non try to text his boyfriend (❤️ > the red heart aka Phi) and never get a text or try to send a text or call to his brother.

I can guess that would make the brother feel pretty damn guilty.

Non and New's parents fight a lot, there is not a lot of love there, and that is probably why New stopped coming home. Again, guessing.

THAT'S IT!

Obviously everyone is thinking the same thing about the identity of the brother: Tan. Literally the only option within the friend group.

I am conflicted with that theory. Because even though I like it a lot, and there is stuff that does make sense.

Phi feels like the one more in charge, but Tan has more moments where there is an angry expression on his face, when the others talk about Non, and in other places.

Tan is the one that is the most insistant on getting the truth out of the group, getting them to confess, why? I mean why would it matter to get the truth, if he is that angry.

How the fuck did a poor normal uni student manage to fake documents and mess with two schools and the goverment for long enough to finish high school and go to uni again.

Why would a brother wait that long, hanging out with people that could be responsible for your brother dead? Can you even fucking imagine how angry that must have made him.

Why does Phi feel more responsible for Tan's well being if he is younger? Like the inhealer question.

Why does Tan nervous smoke in the wearehouse with the inhealer in hand if he is one of the killers?

Some of the moments where Phi and Tan are talking feel a bit weird if he is the brother.

This one is more doyalist: I know actor ages in thai bl mean less then nothing, but If I am right and the brother is older then did they have to give the part to an actor who is literally only a month older then Barcode??? They are both 19 this is ridiculous. They have actors in the cast that are older then both of them, why would the one who is only a month older play the secret older brother??

Now some of these I have theories for. Like Phi is the one more in charge because New was estranged from his brother, they weren't close, and Phi is a very natural and charismatic leader. It might also be part of the act. To make himself younger.

The fact that he wants to know the truth more might have to do with the dissaperance of Non, if him and the parents were stuck not knowing anything all this time, he might want to get the boys to confess everything just to get the satisfaction.

If Non is dead it might have taken them a bit to actually figure out everything that happened and investigate bit by bit and formulate a plan, that is why it took them 3 years to get revenge.

Tan was nervous because he wasn't sure the plan was going to go well. Phi asks more about his well being even if he is younger, because he is just like that (that is how he was with Non, asking if he was home, if he took the medicine etc.)

But of course the biggest reason for it to be Tan is very simple: If he is not the older brother, then WHO THE FUCK IS HE? He has to be in the plan, he is much to insistant on the wanting the truth, but if he is not the brother then who is he?

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

Clow theory time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think the brother is exeternal. Phi has been screaming about the ninth person since the begging I think that was the clue. I think, the brother is the third killer and the ninth person, and I think he is an adult that we have not seen before.

Like say someone who could get a job working for the people that take of the house

So he could learn the way, learn the layout of the forest, learn Uncle Dang habits. So he could know that he takes the scoter up there not the car when he is alone. And he could know where to set up the fucking steel rod that took of his head.

So he could take his time setting up that fucking temple, and learning where the cameras are.

And so he could make sure to be the one to be assign to get up there to get them, so that no one would come to save them, because the killers could not have known that Fluke would cancel the ride, and that seems like a coincidence you would not rely on if you are planning revenge for 3 years!!

[fandomwritingbit]

Okay what about one where there reader is Michael's new (hot) art teacher and William is just "Michael you need to join the art club immediately" or "well I GUESS if the pta needs help with the spring art festival -"

Hello! This has too so long I'm sorry 😶 Uh I hope this is what kind of thing you were looking for, thank you so much for the request.

Side note it took me so long to figure out what pta was lmao

So,

art teacher (gn)reader x william afton (sfw)

"Well, I'm happy to let you know that Michael is doing really well in my class. He's an absolute pleasure to teach." You smile, looking from the father to the son. The resemblance was more than evident, but their attitudes were opposites, Michael sat as he always did, hunched forward, his hands twisted together, he was scarcely able to hold your eyes for more than a few seconds. His father though took up a lot of room in his chair, his posture reeking of easy confidence and he had no difficulty looking at you. It was moments like this that you could learn a lot about a student’s home life and it was abundantly clear that these two weren’t so close.

"But?" Mr Afton prompted, his tone jovial. He was beginning to understand why his son likes art so much. A lovely thing like you leading the class? Who could blame him? He'd expected some old lady wearing well too many scarfs, glasses on a pearled chain around her neck, not someone like you.

"But,” You can’t help but smile, heat rising to your cheeks, “as I'm sure you've learnt from his other teachers tonight, currently Michael might struggle to meet the entry requirements of universities." As you spoke, you had to work hard to keep your thoughts on track, this man was attractive in a way you didn't expect. He smirked when you paused, and you forced your gaze on Mike. "But as I said to Michael before, we've got plenty of options to boost grades."

Michael spoke up, "Need to join a club or something."

Nodding, you turn to explain why to Mr Afton. "Yeah, certain enrichments can be graded. I'm advocating the art club… He'd get the opportunity to make a portfolio, which Unis love, and I have no doubt he'd excel." The man before you looked bemused, his eyes flicking up from your lanyard to your eyes. 

"And, do you run the art club?"

You grin a little embarrassed, "Yeah, I do-"

The dad chuckles and looks to Mike offhandedly, "Then you should absolutely join." To which he rolls his eyes, partly at his father’s blatant flirting and at the lack of enthusiasm at joining your club.

Mike sighs, "Yeah okay, I'll go."

"Smashing. I'll put you on my register." You pull out the document from your lever-arch folder and quickly jot his name down. Whilst doing so, the man opposite you watches your left hand for a ring and on seeing there wasn't one, smirks from ear to ear.

Once done, you quickly put your hands out in an attempt to stop them from leaving, "Uh, before you go. I'm really sorry to ask, but we're holding an art festival next week and I'm struggling to find some help... would you be willing to lend a hand?'' You automatically feel guilty for asking. Doing so in person put a lot more pressure than a general email, but you were hoping to almost force him. Like you’d tried to with every other parent tonight. 

You catch Michael’s expression, you’d asked him the other day if he had anyone that would want to help out and he’d laughed a little, “Uh no, not really.” he’d said.  You do feel like you’ve gone behind his back a bit, but if you can’t get a few more pairs of hands this festival is going to fall on its arse.

He sat back in the chair, his feet poking out at your side of the desk, "A festival? What exactly would you have me doing?" 

You smile, pleasantly surprised that he was obliging you, "Mainly the setup, it's a lot of stuff to move out to the green. Though of course all-day help would be appreciated, I just don't want to push my luck."

"You already are," he smirks, "when is it?"

"Next Friday, the 19th." Your eyes go wide as you wait for his answer, all the other parents you’d asked tonight had told you that they were working on Friday, as people tend to do, and you have a feeling that he was about to say the same.

He hums, “Friday-” but is cut off by Michael, 

“You work Fridays.” he states, a harsh tone on the words, making you think that he really didn’t want his dad to help you out. 

Scoffing, he shoots his son a look, “Yeah I do.” Before turning his attention back to you, “But, I could skive it.” The expression on his face is hard to place, perhaps mischievous, or sly. Regardless, you panic slightly.

“Oh. No, you don’t have to do that, Mr Afton-”  

He puts his hand out to silence you and it works, you bite your tongue instantly, “I know, but I will. It’s not exactly like I help out frequently.” He’d decided already, either because his son was clearly desperate for him not to do so, or because he’d like to spend a bit of time with you. Let's face it, it was both. And so, you were left with little option but to graciously accept, and you thank him. 

As your student and his father leave, he shakes your hand. “Thank you, Mr Afton. You’ve really helped me out.” Both your hands encase his and it doesn’t occur to you that that is unusual until you do it, heat beneath your face. He flashes you a smirk that makes your blood ice, before nodding. 

“It’s fine really. Should be fun.” 

~

Friday was as manic as you had expected. The second you arrived at the college you were behind, the mass of stalls and pieces of art were absurd to move even with the three others you’d manage to recruit: the head of languages, Martin, a science teacher, Kris and of course, Mr Afton. Another parent was expected but dropped out last minute, adding to the workload. And the people in charge of the stalls and activities wouldn’t arrive until kick-off so to speak.

Surprisingly, Mr Afton was a godsend. Helping you drag the stall skeletons on to the field, well you dragged them, he rather easily picked them up, somehow managing the awkward height and weight without breaking a sweat. 

“Now, you’re just showing off, Mr Afton.” you giggle, trying not to look at the way his arms flexed whilst he carried the objects. You can’t really help it though and try to steal what glimpses you can as the two of you lug 12 stalls outside. If you’d have known he was doing the same you probably would’ve dropped everything and made a fool of yourself, so mercifully he’s much slier with his staring than you are.  

It’s only when you’re done with the moving, the two of you can start decorating, the other workers put on duty setting up the games, things like a ring toss and lucky-dip. You study him for a moment while he’s distracted tying the string of a line of bunting around a nail that probably shouldn’t be sticking out of the stalls, and good lord this man looks a lot like his son. Everything from the dark hair which probably wasn’t as neat as he’d left it this morning, to the shape of his brow, making his eyes look hooded and narrow. The difference was all attitude and experience. You have to glance away when you start thinking about his experience. 

“Ooh what are you looking at? Am I doing it wrong?” he asks, bringing heat to your cheeks at the knowledge that he’d just caught you staring for way too long. He turned his head, looking down the sting, checking to see it wasn’t coming undone or tangled. 

“No, sorry.” your smile hints at your embarrassment, “It just crossed my mind how much you look like your son, sorry.” God you hate the way you’re smiling just because he’s looking at you but it’s completely involuntary. 

He smirks at that, “Well, I am fairly certain I’m his father.” his tone was playful despite the nature of what he was joking about. “I take it you don’t have any kids?” 

“Uh no, no I don't. What gives that impression?” 

“You look well rested.” he walks over to you and crouches down to look in a box at your feet, “And you’re smiling too much.” 

You giggle, “I know.” You rub at your temples, “It’s a nervous thing.” The second you say that you question yourself why, what a weird thing- you feel so awkward. He’s just a man. An attractive man- yes. But just a tall… brooding… handsome… man. 

“And here I was thinking you were just enjoying my company.” he sniggers, bringing you out of your head, it’s been a long time since a bloke had made you all skittish like this. He properly faces you now, searching your eyes. “What’s making you nervous?”

You, you internally answer, quickly thinking of a more appropriate response, “Just uh today. I have a feeling it’s going to be an absolute nightmare.” You drop your eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

You briefly rest a hand on your forehead. “Got no choice really.”

He moves to walk past you but pauses, standing half behind you. “Well, I can stay and help out. If it’s not me that’s making you nervous?” he smirks as he moves away, his voice teasing, riling up some butterflies in your stomach. 

~

He stays, and soon after the others arrive, students flogging their wares and local crafts aficionados, though you have them actually working, you don’t mind Mr Afton drifting around doing a bit here and there. As nice as you find him, he didn’t strike you as someone that would be happy to run a stall on his own. 

Once everything has settled down and the festival is running smoothly, you allow yourself a moment of a break. He finds you sitting on a bench just off the green. There he takes a seat beside you, digging in his pocket for a packet of cigs. 

“You can’t really smoke here, you know.” you laugh as he stops mid action, his lighter half raised.

He shrugs, reasoning “I’m outside.” resuming the act though now watching you for further reaction.

You fold your arms, a grin contradicting the seriousness. You’re well-aware that you weren’t going to stop him. “Still a college… I won’t tell on you though.” 

He chuckles as he takes a drag on it. This was like a flashback to his youth, so he plays his part, “Good. No one likes a sprag.” Man, it’s been a long time since you’ve heard that.

You try to steal a glance at his left hand, wanting to triple check that he wasn’t wearing a ring. Not that you would say or do anything, you just need to know. Not seeing a wedding band wasn’t enough though and the question dances around inside your head.

You finally bite the bullet and spit it out. “You’re not married then, Mr Afton?” you gesture to his hand, to give him context to how you arrived at that. You’d tried to sound like you were making small talk but it failed miserably. 

The mean laugh he lets slip is pure reflex. “No. Not anymore.”He wanted to tease you by asking why you wanted to know, but you’re already flustered and avoiding his direct gaze. 

“So you’re uh…?” you hesitate to finish the question, realising you were jumping to a conclusion. 

Thankfully he finishes it for you, “Divorced? Yeah.” He just loved how you smiled at him in relief there, the amusement evident on his face.

You try to explain why you fumbled that so badly, talking quickly, “Well. I didn't want to say divorced and get it wrong."

“In case…?”

God, your face is hot again, why can’t you just talk normal to this guy. “In case… you know… you were uh widowed or something.” 

“Or something?” he questions again, trying not to laugh at how you were stumbling. 

You put your head in your hands, laughing self-deprecatingly at yourself, “Leave me alone - I’m…” 

“Nervous?”

“A little yeah.” you speak, your face still obscured. “I mean you’ve come and sat with me. I’m just curious why.”  

You don’t need to look to feel the smirk on his face. “Maybe cos I wanted to.” You feel his movement on the bench and look up to catch his gaze, his head cocked to meet your eye line almost perfectly. “You’re pretty, you know. Even with your head in your hands.” 

Your eyes open wide at his bluntness as you try and think of something to say in response. You’re starting to see why Michael was so desperate to keep him away.