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mncxbe · 1 year ago

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Absbsjskajnshajks idk if you’re taking more requests rn, but if it’s not an issue could I possibly request a part two of that fic you posted about reader having a cat ability which means that they’re sometimes in heat??😭😭 maybe with Tetchō and Jouno (only if you feel like it)

Yes of course and my requests are always open although it may take a while to write them♡ Also added Dazai to this one I hope you like it.

1.50♡ p2

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖, 𝑱ō𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: itty-bitty smut♡/ fluff??

°☆○ 1.50♡ ~ part 1

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

this smug bastard takes advantage of your state in the most subtle ways; lingering touches, flirtatious smiles and passionate kisses

at work he teases you more than usually, describing all the sinful things he'd do to you if you were in a more private setting👀 really just gets you all riled up for nothing

but when you two get home he acts like a completely different person

"What, bella? do you need something from me?" he always asks with a smirk on his face "Maybe some assistance with your little... situation?"

doesn't lay a finger on you until you practically beg him (nicely); it's not like he'll ever admit it but hearing your desperate pleas really boosts his ego

he does his best to help you in other ways too. he'll do more chores around the house and write your reports at work if you really can't handle them. overall he's a good guy♡

Dazai was lounging around the office, wasting time and avoiding his chores; since you had been sent on a mission, your boyfriend didn't had much else to do. He had his headphones on and was listening to some funky song when you suddenly walked behind him.

Leaning over his frame, you swiftly hooked a finger beneath one of the speakers and lifted it.

"Boo" you whispered lowly, your hot breath sending a shiver down his spine.

"Ah bella here you are. How's my pretty girl doing?" He tried to get up from the couch but you pressed further on his back.

"Bella... Come on let me get up and give you a kiss. I missed you" he whined

"Oh trust me baby. I want way more than a kiss" you said in a teasing voice.

In a matter of seconds, Dazai was back on his feet and had you pinned down on the couch, a mocking smile on his face.

"You're that desperate for me, bella? You've only been gone for a couple of hours. You really can't spend that little time without my touch?"

Your gaze darted around the room, hoping that no one could witness the position you were in.

"I'm in heat, Dazai." you confessed quietly.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it?"

"I said..." you began, rosy petal blooming on your cheeks "I said that I'm in heat, Osamu. Because of my ability"

"And what does that have to do with me, huh?" he tauned, lips hovering just above the shell of your ear. "Do you perhaps want me to have my way with you here? In the office?"

Your body quivered slightly at the sound of his low voice, making him giggle.

"Get up, bella. And go finish your job so we can leave early."

You nodded your head in agreement before straightening yourself. As you were making your way back to your desk, your boyfriend called out to you:

"Oh and bella?"

"Yes?" you asked sweetly

"Don't forget to ask Kunikida for a free day tomorrow. You'll be needing it after tonight" he replied with a wink, causing your blush to deepen.

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐

you don't have to tell him that you're in heat, he can smell your arousal

just like Dazai, this man gives you the most condescending smile and shamelessly teases you throughout the day

if you work someplace else he'll send you texts to check up on you and gently remind you that he'll provide any help you need once he gets home

but if you're part of the Hunting Dogs good luck. he's all over you all day, making snarky remarks about your "condition"

Jōno also likes to hear you beg; hearing your thumping heartbeat and sweet voice when you tell him how much you crave him really turns him on

will cook breakfast for you if you're too tired in the morning

Jōno woke up with warm sunshine on his face and your sleeping figure next to him. This hour and a half before work, when you'd both wake up and cuddled for a while then have breakfast together was among his most cherished moments.

Usually you'd wake up just minutes after him, turning to face him with a wide smile on your face as you sleepily uttered a "Good morning Sai" and showered him with kisses. Except you didn't do that today.

Jōno knew by the accelerated rhythm of your heart that you were awake, but you were not moving an inch.

"Darling? Is there something wrong?" he asked softly, placing his hand on your waist.

You quickly shook your head as you curled up in a fetal position "No, I'm good, I'm okay". Your voice was shaky and low, as if you were pain.

"Baby please, if you're hurt or not feeling well then please-"

And then it hit him; a strong, intoxicating scent coming from your body. A cocky smirk rose to his lips when he finally understood the cause of your distress.

"You're in heat, aren't you?"

You suddenly turned to face him with a pleading look on your face. "Yea..."

"Well then we must do something about that" he teased, his hand sliding to your thigh. "Would be a shame to let you go to work like this."

Your boyfriend expected you to protest just like you normally did when he initiated such things in the morning, but today you were so compliant. You scooted closer to him, leaning into his touch; eyes glazed in lust.

"Well aren't you needy today, princess?" he inquired playfully. He gently pushed you onto your back and spread your legs, the tips of his fingers skimming along your clothed slit.

"You're so wet already, princess. I can feel it through your clothes" The little moan that left your lips when his lithe digits slid beneath the wristband of your yoga shorts reverberated through Jōno's entire body.

With a swift tug at your pants and underwear he had you undressed, thumb lazily circling your clit. His hot breath fanned against your parted lips.

"Sai, gimme more~" you babbled out, fiercely seizing his wrist as you guided his fingers to your entrance.

Your boyfriend only smiled at your desperate attempt, ceasing his ministrations. "Take what you're given, sweetie. Or I won't give you anything at all" he purred, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

You immediately complied with his order and released his arm. "Good girl. See, it wasn't that hard, was it?"

Suddenly, he plunged two of his fingers into you; stretching your leaking hole. A ragged moan escaped your parted lips as your nails dug into his forearm, causing your boyfriend to smirk. Your sinful sounds were like music to his ears, clouding his mind with lust. There was nothing he loved more than coaxing those delicious moans and whimpers out of you.

His digits pumped in and out of you at a steady pace; his thumb resuming its circular motions on your puffy clit.

"God baby I'm so close" you uttered in a ragged voice, thighs instinctively squeezing together.

Just as you felt the familiar heat pooling in your core, Jōno removed his hand from your underwear.

"Won't you look at that, love. We gotta go to work or we'll be late." he said tauntingly. You let out a loud hiss at the loss of touch.

"Sai, don't you dare leave me like this-" you cried out but it was too late. Your boyfriend was already on his way to the bathroom.

The rest of the morning was spent in silence hence you decided to punish your partner for teasing you. Of course, you were aware of how much Jōno enjoyed himself; a scornful laughter escaping his lips whenever you dodged his touch and kisses.

"I'm gonna head out, love. Good luck at work!" he voiced before leaving, but you didn't reply. A few seconds after you heard the door of your shared apartment close with a thud.

You spent most of the day in a state of utter annoyance and frustration, not being able to focus on any task you were given. All you wanted was for your partner to take care of your needs but instead he treated you like a plaything, leaving you brimming with pent-up desires.

Around 2 p.m, your phone chimed, announcing that you just received a text from Jōno. A rosy blush rose to your cheeks as your eyes scanned the glowing screen:

'Hi princess, I hope you're doing well at work. I know you're yearning for my touch but I promise I won't leave you unsatisfied tonight. Just be my good little girl and wait a few more hours. I know you can do it♡"

It's safe to say that that night, your boyfriend kept his promise.

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

my sweet angel he's the most caring person ever istg. he's a bit confused when you tell him that you're in heat since he doesn't really know how that affects him??

but once you explain that you'll need him he blushes so hard; but he takes it well

Tecchou take princess treatment to another level during this time. You get to relax after work while he does all the chores and cooks food

he prepares baths for you or spontaneously buys you a bouquet of roses♡ he's really sweet

you're never left unsatisfied in bed, like never. he has an incredible stamina and a never ending need to please you

The setting sun painted the blue sky of Yokohama in shades of purple, red and ochre, a warm light glowing through the high ceiling windows of the building. Tecchou was compiling his last report for the day when you peeked your head through the open doors of his office.

"Hi Hiro. Got a minute?" you beamed, lips curling into an impish smile.

"Of course, darling. Come inside."

Your sweet boyfriend didn't suspect anything as you closed the door and walked up to him, hips swaying gracefully. You positioned yourself on his lap, snaking your arms around his neck.

"So Hiro. How soon can we go home?"

"Soon. I just need to finish the paperwork." he replied, pointing at the half written page with his black fountain pen.

You pushed your lower lip forward into a pout, impatiently swinging your legs. "Ok but how soon is soon?"

Without taking his eyes off of the report, your boyfriend shrugged. "In a few minutes but... if I may ask, why are you so eager to get home, darling?"

"Oh, well" you said in a honeyed voice "I don't know if I ever told you this but because of my cat-shifting ability I sometimes experience heats"

"And?" he pressed, utterly unaware of what you were implying. His slender fingers were gingerly caressing your hips, making you shift uncomfortably in his lap.

"What I'm saying is that I'm horny, Hiro. And I need you to fuck me."

Your boyfriend's eyes shot open and he droppen the pen, little droplets of ink splattering the pearly sheet; the grip he had on your hip also tightened.

Pleased with his reaction, you ran one hand down his chest, slightly tugging at the buttons of his vest. "But of course we don't need to be home for that. There's plenty of space here" you added, patting his wooden desk.

Upon hearing your daring proposal, Tecchou's face turned a light shade of pink. "I mean... We're at the office my love but I promise I'll take care of you at home, ok?"

You give him a small nod and a peck on the cheek before hopping off his lap. "I'll be waiting for you in the car. Hurry up"

As you walked towards the door you could hear a sudden rustling of paper as your boyfriend haphazardly attempted to finish his work. He caught up with you just as you were exiting the building; of course, you didn't fail to notice his ragged breath. He'd probably ran down the stairs. You let out a soft chuckle as you noticed this.

"So, darling. Is there anything else I can do for you besides, you know...?" he asked sweetly "I mean, how does this affect you?"

"Well, I tend to lack in energy levels and I have a terrible attention span. I was actually thinking about taking a week off work 'till I feel better."

"I see..." After thinking for a few moments, Tecchou grabbed both of your hand and spoke in a solemn voice "Then I will do my best to do as many chores around the house. I'll cook dinner for us too so don't worry about it. Just focus on feeling better, ok?"

The look on his face was of pure devotion and determination; causing warmth to pool in your core.

You rose to the tips of your toes and cupped his face with your warm hands before pressing your lips on his. The kiss was tender and loving at first, but you soon found one of your hands entangled in his coffee-coloured locks as soft moans rolled off your lips. He swiftly scooped you up and made his way to your car.

Your boyfriend placed you in the backseat before taking off his cape and discarding it on the passanger's seat.

"Wait, Hiro. What are you doing?"

His skilled fingers quickly undid the buttons of his vest and he slid it off his shoulders, leaving him only in his tank top which showed his toned arms. All this time his hungry gaze was locked with yours, making you shiver with anticipation.

"Well darling. I guess you're not the only who's eager tonight" he said before joining you in the rear seat; hurriedly closing the door behind him.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai bsd #dazai smut #bsd tecchou #tetchou x reader #bsd tetchou #jono x reader #jono saigiku #jono bsd #jouno smut #hunting dogs bsd #bsd headcanons

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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Any advice on finding a good routine to write while in school. I can't seem to catch a break and even when I do I want to melt into the floor and never leave. Not the ideal time to write. But I really do want to finish my writing goals for these next few months. Any ideas?

Struggling with Writing Goals During School

Here are some things you can try:

1 - Write First Thing - Try to go to bed an hour or so early, then you can get up an hour early and write first thing. This is something that works really well for some people, so it's definitely worth a try. It can actually become a really peaceful, quite, fulfilling moment of time to yourself, which turns it as much into a moment of self-care as a time to reach your writing goals.

2 - Go to School Early or Stay Late - If you're able to, try going to school early and do your writing in the school library or academic center. You could also stay late to do this if it's possible. Sometimes, having a special place to go and write, where you won't be disturbed, is all you need to make that time to write.

3 - Write Between Classes - If you're in college and have a long enough gap between classes, go to the library or find a quiet table somewhere and write. If you're in middle school or high school, while this won't help for this semester, talk to a teacher or adviser about whether or not there's a class period you could utilize next semester for writing. When I was in high school, we had an actual class you could take for credit that was essentially a study hall, so it's possible your school might offer something like that. Another option we had was teacher's aide, so it's possible a teacher would work with you and let you be their teacher aide, but really let you work on your writing during that time.

4 - Write After School, Before Going Home - If you're able to, find someplace to go after school where you can write for an hour or so before going home. This could be the library, a coffee shop, a supportive friend's house, or a nearby park. This way, you don't have the option of melting into the floor. It becomes part of your day, but you have to be good about not just spending your time scrolling through Instagram.

5 - Make It "Working from Home" - One last option to try is to treat it like working from home for an hour or two. Schedule your hours each day according to your reasonable availability, but also as close to when you get home from school as possible. Choose someplace quiet in your home where you can write free from distraction. Ask your family/housemates not to disturb you during that time. Put your cell phone on silent, keep the TV off, etc. Stay in whatever outfit you wore to school. You can take off your shoes, but keep your socks on. Treat it with the same seriousness you would if you were working remotely for a little while and expected to be on meetings at some point during the session. This can potentially prevent your brain from turning into goo and saying "okay, time to check out."

You may have to try a bunch of different things to see what works, and different things may work at different times. The key is to make sure you try, every day, even if only for a few minutes. That will help to build up the habit.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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childotkw · 2 months ago

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Hi! I'm a fan of your Lucemond content and I'm finally brave enough to ask about your "Dichotomy of Loyalty" AU (that is if you're okay with answering). What exactly happens during Lucerys's abduction / forced familial reunion? Your post says that the house is ransacked, Laenor is gone, and there's a black car outside. What goes on during Lucerys's last minutes of freedom before he is brought back into the family?

Does he attempt to call the police and find a hiding place? Does Aemond pop out like Michael Myers if he's inside the house or does he force his way in? If Laenor has a weapon someplace (despite wanting a normal life, the man has to be aware that he's a fugitive in the mafia underworld now and needs to have a just-in-case weapon handy), does Lucerys try to reach it? Or does Lucerys arm himself with a knife and a near reenactment of what happened years before take place between him and Aemond?

I'm sorry to force this on you, but this time placement in your AU is probably the most suspenseful and action-packed scene. Would it be alright if I ask more questions I have on this AU or do you want your focus on your other writings? Thank you so much for sharing your creations!

Hello, darling! Thank you for your message 💕

Lucerys was actually meant to be at their home when it got raided. They’d been watching and following him for weeks before they made their move, learning his habits and schedules and confirming that he was actually their Lucerys.

Normally, Lucerys would have finished work early on Fridays, but something came up and he had to stay back - which wasn’t uncommon but it hadn’t happened since the Targaryen’s had begun their reconnaissance. So they raided the house, expecting both, but it was only Laenor there at the time. They took him and threw him in the second car, then settled in to wait.

Lucerys came home, and when he found the house wrecked he immediately tried to phone Laenor, and then the police. Before the call went through, he was grabbed from behind - but Lucerys, despite being small and looking soft, did know some self-defence. His elbow slammed into the guy’s face, and the second he was released he bolted.

Unfortunately though, Lucerys couldn’t outrun the men sent to retrieve him. He was subdued, knocked out, and whisked away.

Aemond was, in an impressive show of restraint on his part, not actually part of the retrieval team. Everyone, including him, knew that if he had been there, there was the chance that he’d be too emotional and things might go wrong. Instead, he was waiting at the main house for the men to return.

When they did rock up with an unconscious Lucerys something loosened inside Aemond, because they had suspected that Lucerys had no memories of them or their family, but not everything about his nephew was lost. There was still that savagery in his blood, the savagery that sang out to Aemond, evident in the bruise forming on one guard’s cheekbone, the deep scratches on another’s arms, and the scuffed clothes and cut eyebrow of the other.

And feel free to ask me whatever you like! I don’t always write snippets, but who knows - something you ask may kick my brain into gear!

#anonymous #HOTD #dichotomy of loyalty au #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond

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nottabear · 11 days ago

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12 Kythorn, 1492

<Previous Entry<

Much of the lower city is in ruins but everyone I have seen is in high spirits ready to rebuild a better city, Astarion especially it almost took me by surprise. He seems so passionate about building his new life and says he wants me by his side for all of it. I have never seen him so happy, so hopeful for the future.

Today he woke me up by gently tracing over my body, a light tickling touch. He whispered sweet honied words into my ear as we laid together in the morning sun. It’s been so long since I slept in, been woken up by the warm golden rays of the morning sun. There is no other feeling to rival waking up safe and secured in your lovers’ arms with the warmth of the sun embracing you both. The love we share is a knot of threads bound so close together, whichever way you pull the knot just becomes tighter. Souls forever entwined.

I spent the morning dawn bidding farewell to Shadowheart and Gale as they prepared to hit the road. I will miss them gravely. They both have promised to come visit for Highharvestide so I may show them the proper way to celebrate the coming of autumn. Can you believe it, Sharns never celebrated the change of seasons? And Gale, having locked himself in a town for so long, has forgotten how to truly celebrate the seasons change. I must set that right and show him all that my family does for Highharvestide. I fear I forgot to ask them both their accounts of the final fight. I will just have to ask them when they come the days before Highharvestide. I will hopefully have the rest of the adventures written out and finalized by then. Maybe I will even be able to share some chapters with them.

I spent the rest of day light with my family, helping mother clean up the tavern and house while my brother and father worked on repairs. A few upper city folks stopped by offering to loan the funds for repairs and labor, but my father denied them all stating he would rather the tavern fall to ruin than ever fall into the hands of the noble. Though I know many clients are eager for the tavern to reopen, to get a serving of the best Baldurian seafood stew from my mother.

Later in the day my mother and I made some meals for the refugees and families displaced after the attack. We talked a lot during then, our words flowing free in the warm kitchen air as they did before. My mother seems to be in much better spirits knowing I am no longer running around the city chasing shape changers and crazed cultist. My brother told me she didn’t rise for three days after the first attack in spring. My father pleaded with her every hour on the third day, for his heart could not stand a world without her and if she were to perish in the bed they lay in every night then he would never be able to sleep again knowing her soul was woven into the fabric of the sheets he lay on. After that it was so difficult for her to return to work, pretending like her daughter wasn’t missing or most likely dead or worse turned into a purple monster of tentacles. She told me every time she rang the server bell, she expected to see my face as bright as the sun with eyes of honey, but it was only ever my father or brother a somber look following both as dishes went out in silence. Meals were never accompanied by a song, no one danced on the bar top. Some of my friends came by while I was gone to help my family and to perform for patrons in my absence, but my mother said it was never the same. She said the tavern lacked color, life, with me gone. I wish I could stay at the tavern now, continue to light the place as I used to, but I cannot.

I want to be a writer, an author. With my words pressed to paper, thread binding my stories together, a cover with my name on it. A place in the bookshops just for me. I cannot reach that dream by writing at the bar counter, protecting my journals from spilled drinks and stew. I need some place quiet, someplace private, someplace my own. Astarion said I can use one of the many rooms in the palace as an office, a room of my own. I have never had my own room, let alone my own office. I do plan on visiting the tavern often, just its time I live and sleep under a new roof. Spread my branches, reach for my dreams as Haslin says.

I must have lost track of time with my family for Astarion came to pick me up as the sun was setting. He had expressed this morning that he wanted me to meet him at the palace, but I told him I would be going to see my family. He was not too pleased with me he expressed; says I disobeyed his direct order. The world nearly ended the day before and I wished to spend today with my family. I see nothing wrong with that. I told him he was overreacting, that my family will always come first. He said if I am to be his consort wife, I must listen to him. It feels so silly to me he is reacting this way over a single day apart. My family also says they love him dearly. He could have spent some of the day with us enjoying the newfound freedom he babbles on about. He can walk in the sun now and enjoy actual food. Luxuries taken for granted he once said. My mother would have loved to cook for him too, she had been so upset when he was unable to eat her cooking when they first met. An upset stomach we said, how silly.

Astarion continues to pout in bed as I write but I will join him at the palace tomorrow for the grand tour he is so eager to give me. He says there is a grand library with so many books I could be reading for a lifetime. The perfect room for me to work on my book. I can simply imagine the days I will spend lost in a book in that room warmed by the heat of the fire. I cannot wait to see it tomorrow.

Good night, my journal.

<Previous Entry<

>Next Entry>

All Entries (Ao3)

#balders gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion fanfic #ascended astarion #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #astarion fanfic

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mysteria157 · 10 months ago

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Chapter 9

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~8k

CW: Profanity, mentions of mental health (anxiety), racial insult, mentions of sexual content

Summary: You make a life change and show a side of yourself that you never wanted to entertain. Nanami asks you to dinner.

Notes: Hi! I have a habit of writing long chapters. That’s just what works for me and helps my pacing for this story. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

“Three bedrooms, a den, a very spacious kitchen, a modest backyard and all the appliances are new. This is the last house in the neighborhood, and I felt it really suits what you are looking for.”

You remained quiet, a hand naturally cradling the small bump of your abdomen as you walked through the empty house. Nakameguro was always in hot demand when it came to nice and affordable housing and this one was surely a steal. Neutral grey walls and dark hardwood floors, the kitchen was open with a long island and stainless steel appliances. It was airy and open and definitely had potential.

“What do you think?”

Ome was truly grinning from ear to ear as she called to you from the empty kitchen, her raspy voice bouncing on the walls and creating an echo. Her kinky hair was loose and free flowing over her shoulders, clear lipgloss making her smile more prominent, body dressed in jeans and a cream colored turtleneck.

Since she accepted an offer for a shiny new Data Specialist job Tokyo, her generally icy demeanor had melted significantly. She began applying no more than twelve hours after you were laid off, refusing to listen to your protests and insisting she wanted a change of pace and to get out of Sendai anyway.

“Come with me.” She had spent the better part of a week pestering you about it and even went as far as to sit in your small studio as you threw clay on your wheel.

“There’s nothing for you here, y/n.”

“My mother—”

“Is a bitch that put you in the hospital. Stop changing aspects of your life to fit her in it when she damn well doesn’t want to be there. If your mother is ever going to come around, she is going to do all the work. You have nothing in Sendai.”

You didn’t respond to her, your eyes still on your molding clay as you thought over her words. She was always right, especially when it came to your mother. But you loved Sendai. Even if it was smaller than Tokyo, there was an aspect of it that made you feel comfortable; an escape from the busy life in Tokyo and suffocation from work.

“You have a baby on the way. Tokyo has more options for healthcare, education, things to do….your baby daddy will be closer?”

You looked up at her, lifting an annoyed brow.

“Why would you think that would make me say yes?”

Ome didn’t respond, her silver-eyed alien gaze shooting straight through you, peeling through the layers easily to see the truth behind the veil. You sighed in defeat, pressing your fingers slightly harder into the malleable mud in your hands, making the clay bend slightly. In truth, it made sense to leave Sendai. You were early enough in your pregnancy to handle the complications of moving and it would be nice to settle someplace new but with more resources.

Ome was so excited for the opportunity of a new job, but you knew the minute you told her that you wouldn’t leave, she would turn the offer down in an instant. As steadfast as she was with all of her decisions in her life, she refused to leave you alone after that night in high school you refused to think about if you could help it.

“It’s still a big decision so at least let me think about it. It’s not a yes and it’s not a no, but I need you to respect the time I need to think about it.”

The joy in her eyes was hard to ignore, her usual scowl curved up into a gentle smile as she nodded fervently at me and settled further into her chair, content to watch me mold clay for the remainder of the night.

“This house is definitely your style.” You smoothed a hand along the concrete island countertop. “It’s affordable and there’s enough bedrooms for you to have guests—”

“I can turn one of the spare rooms into a room for the munchkin.”

It was such a normal thing to say, just an offhand comment that one would make when trying to plan their future. But it still made your eyes mist with tears. Of course, Ome has been nothing but encouraging and supportive throughout the entire pregnancy. But the thought of her making a small nursery for your child, to take over on days when it was too much to even think straight, fulfilling that promise she made to you years ago, it made you feel protected. It made you feel loved.

“You’ve been crying so much this week, hold it together until I sign the paperwork.”

You barked out a watery laugh, flipping her off before you left her and the real estate agent to discuss.

It really was a nice house, something big enough for Ome to grow a family but not so much to make her feel alone until then.

The buzzing of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts as you fished it from your purse.

Kento Nanami: Hello. I hope Omelia likes the house. I made sure it was to her standards before sending it to her realtor…I received a notification that a new episode of that show I like will air tonight. I figured we could go over the birthing plan at my apartment and watch it together.

You’re inviting me to your place under the guise of ‘compiling a birthing plan’. How incredibly lewd.

Kento Nanami: We are having a child together, please see reason.

Also, we both know ‘the show you like’ is the Kardashian’s. We watched five episodes two weeks ago. You also get notifications? You’re so dedicated.

Kento Nanami: I don’t recall signing up for teasing to this degree.

You did when you decided to slide into me four months ago.

Kento Nanami: Must be fate then.

This is the longest you’ve ever texted me. Work must have been shit. Please be sure to order pizza and make me brownies so that I can sit through your complaining tonight with a full stomach.

Kento Nanami: As you wish.

You bit your lip as you slid your phone back into your purse, heart hammering against your rib cage and pushing a strange sense of flightiness through your veins. The past two weeks with Nanami had been the best you had ever experienced with him. That night in the ER had been terrifying and you had wished for nothing but to have him by your side even if you were experiencing the fallback of your emotions from being laid off.

And the thought of him rushing to your side when he heard you were in the hospital, threatening to tear everything apart just to be by you, had you eternally grateful that the man of your child was so protective. He offered you nothing but logical thinking, a firmness in his voice to calm you down when you felt like you were out of control, and nothing but validation with your worries about how the staff was treating you.

You knew he would be the same with your child and that thought made you smile even deeper to yourself as you walked back into the empty living room to Ome.

Nanami had a plush mouth wrapped around a slice of cheese pizza, brown eyes glued to his television screen and void of anything else.

Your bingo card was filling up slowly the more you were around him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would see a scene like this. The normally stoic and serious Kento Nanami, intelligent and sharp, eyes fierce and unrelenting in the face of annoyance. That Kento Nanami was now completely silent as he watched, the annoying ramblings of Kourtney Kardashian echoing through his fancy apartment and cheese pizza stuffed in his mouth instead of something more refined.

Going over the birthing plan was quick; a natural birth with a doula and OB-GYN with midwife certification was the only option you would accept. The mortality rate of black mothers was already high enough, coupling that with the discrimination you had already faced had kept you from considering anything else. You wanted a home birth and would go to a birthing center with your physician if complications arose. Nanami had agreed immediately, offering nothing but support as you both completed the plan.

But now that the main reason you were supposed to be here had passed, and he had exhausted himself with complaining about Gojo at work, Kourtney was the only thing holding his attention.

What else did he like to watch? Surely, he had to like something more relaxed like documentaries, at least that’s what you thought. Did he like NPR? Maybe even true crime? Seeing him like this made you realize the possibilities were endless.

“Complaining because your sister pursued career options in the same location as your wedding? How asinine.”

He was talking more to himself, offering you his pizza crust before wiping his hands on a napkin, his eyes still on the screen. You nibbled on the bread, watching in silent wonder as he absentmindedly ran a hand through his drying hair, the action making your thighs clench if only a little.

He had answered the door earlier in the night looking like sin as usual; socked feet and black sweatpants hanging far too low on his hips for your liking, a white t-shirt stretching across his chest, sleeves wrapping around bulging biceps. His blonde hair was slightly darker from the shower and the smell of eucalyptus body wash had hit your face immediately and made your mouth water. You had to plant your feet harder into the floor, praying to the heavens that you would ignore the urge to fall to your knees, pull his sweatpants down, wrap your mouth around his heavy hanging cock and—

“Are you okay?”

You blinked quickly, wishing away lustful thoughts before you turned to look at him. The gentle glow of the television was hitting his face, highlighting those sharp cheekbones you had recently been dreaming about dragging your tongue across. His eyebrows were slightly pinched in concern, a large hand touching your knee, thumb stroking the skin idly. You couldn’t react to the feel of his thumb on your skin, couldn’t grab his hand and pull it higher up your leg to dip into your panties and let him feel how wet you were getting just from mundane interactions.

So you nodded instead, offering him a small smile as you stretched against his soft couch. The muscles in your back stretched deliciously before bunching back together with a slight twinge. You hissed softly, lips curling a little in discomfort.

“Are you in pain? What can I do to help?”

You waved him off with a chuckle, trying to wiggle your hips to get more comfortable but grimacing as the pain radiated a little higher up your spine.

“It’s just my back. It’s been sore lately but nothing too bad.”

A grunt of disapproval fell from his throat before he reached out his hand for you.

“Come here.” You didn’t react at first, eyes falling on his open hand before he flexed his fingers toward himself in a come hither motion.

“Nothing too bad is still something. Don’t sugarcoat your discomfort. Back pain is a little more common around 16 weeks.”

He would probably pull you to him if you waited any longer so you took his hand instead, letting him pull you to sit between his legs, your back to him. His thick legs were warm as they rested outside of yours, his chest touched the skin of your back as he breathed, the scent of him making you want to lull your head back to rest against him. The sudden feel of large hands massaging your lower back had you biting your tongue to hold back a satisfied moan. Thick fingers pressed against your skin with pressure, the pain bending to his will before sliding away. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, head slightly tilting back before you shook out a shaky breath.

“So Ome signed on the house?”

His voice pulled you out of your carnal haze, the mist clearing away in your head just enough to engage in conversation with him. You hummed in approval.

“She did. She should be up here permanently in a week. She surprisingly accepted Gojo’s help with moving.”

Nanami smoothed a hand up your back, firm and hard before pushing into your shoulder blades.

“I admit, I should give him some credit. Despite his less than ideal behavior when it comes to relationships, he’s actually quite taken with her.”

You couldn’t agree more, actually picturing the idea of the two of them together. Ome kept Gojo on his toes. She never tolerated his childish behavior, admonished his poor manners, and showed him that like all men who tried to woo her, she would make him work until he begged. And Gojo seemed just like the man who would do it if it meant he could have her in his life forever. Once you let it slip that she had finally dumped her cheating boyfriend, he was in top form.

Nanami’s hands slowed as they smoothed down your back, his warm touch making you melt further in his skin.

“Have you decided if you’ll come to Tokyo as well?”

The smallest hint of hope in his voice filled your gut with a weird sensation. He wanted you here, wanted you to be around more.

“I’m not sure.”

“I think you would like it here.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your throat as you began to taste his nervousness in the air. Your decision to move had practically been made a while ago, but you couldn’t deny that giddiness of being able to pry Nanami’s thoughts out of him. It was so rare to get this much out of him, even in one sitting.

“I suppose the Director of Strategic Partners would have the capability of presenting the best method of approach here. What are your points?”

You felt the small puff of air against your neck as he chuckled once from behind you. The sound making you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Much more opportunity; more things to do, more resources, dining is quite good, more options for education and other children for the baby to grow with. There are many neighborhoods in Tokyo to choose from.”

Another firm press, two thick fingers on the side of your hip, releasing the pressure and soreness.

“Which neighborhoods do you like?”

“Well…here in Nakameguro is pleasant.”

You snorted. “Only recommending the place you live so I’ll be close. You went right for the throat.”

He hummed reproachfully from behind you, the vibration dancing up your spine and rattling your eardrums.

“Do not tease me.” You giggled against him but didn’t offer further reply. You could feel him hesitate from behind you, his hands stuttering minutely, mouth opening and closing as he thought of the best way to speak.

“This neighborhood is quiet; people keep to themselves. The houses are affordable and nice, plenty of daycare options…”

“That’s all?”

Your voice was low, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you reveled in the way he stiffened behind you.

“Sakura season is beautiful as well…My parents also live here so the baby will be close to them.”

“And where will you be?”

You were shocked at your own bravery. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see the way his deep brown eyes widened from your words, or the way he pulled both of his lips between his teeth to bite down and keep himself in check, tongue suddenly dry and heavy in his mouth.

He smoothed his hands again up your back, begging you to arch into his touch but willing yourself not to. Warm hands trailed your upper arms, sliding along your trapezius muscles and resting against your neck before you felt both thumbs press softly into the skin, massaging firmly.

You cursed your libido, blamed the baby just this once for making you a feral beast who wanted to succumb to a devious man like Kento Nanami.

“I’ll be with you. If you allow me to be.”

You could do it; you could allow him to be so much closer right now. You could just lean back into him and let him dip his nose in the crease of your neck, licking the salty skin before biting down and let him have his way with you. God you wanted it so bad. You craved to be under him again and to have those large hands running down your skin, pulling your leg around his waist and fucking you into the mattress with those dirty words on his lips that he whispered that night. Over and over telling you just how much of a—‘good girl. Such a sweet little thing taking me just how I want. Arch that back and scream for me, sweetheart.’

But you held yourself back, willing away the scandalous thoughts and chose instead to relax against his talented hands.

“I’ll allow it.”

Chiyo began to blow up your phone only a day later. Leave it to such a reserved man like Nanami to be such a gossip. You blamed his television habits, but the exasperation of his big mouth didn’t last long the minute you were flooded with links to different houses in the area, all to your liking.

It only took less than a week before you finally made your choice.

A nice two story home in the same suburb as Chiyo and Santo Nanami—who were both ecstatic to have the chance to be around their grandchild.

The walls were a soft eggshell that you couldn’t wait to repaint, the kitchen open and airy with shiny appliances and a colorful backsplash that captivated you the moment you saw it, and a nice backyard that you could instantly picture your child running around in—squealing loudly as her father chased after her.

You thought it would have been impossible to ask for five bedrooms, but your newfound freedom from the shackles of your job had made you firmer in your desire to perfect your crafts. You needed a room that you would turn into a studio, a place to let you throw clay and paint in peace without having to drive somewhere else. Nanami had jumped at the opportunity to fix it up, insisting that he and Haibara would knock out the flooring to lay down concrete and refused to listen to your protests until you gave up entirely.

Between a studio, an office/guest bedroom, room for the nursery and just another room for cushion, five was your hard stop and Chiyo had found a match in less than an hour of telling her your demands.

You insisted on Gojo keeping his mouth shut about your impending move. You wanted to surprise Yuji yourself and you couldn’t wait to see the pink-haired boy cry tears of happiness before giving you a gentler hug suited for your growing belly.

The belly of which was partially covered by your t-shirt and poking between your open legs as you sat on the floor of your almost packed house. All of your bedrooms besides the studio were done and only the living room remained. The same living room that you got distracted in when your eyes came across an old photo album, prompting you to sink to the floor with a melancholy smile before you absorbed your attention to the thick book in your hands. Most of the pictures were of you that Rory and Ome had taken. Your debate team win, yearbook pics from kindergarten through 12thgrade, each stage of your life documented by only the two people closest to you and your small group of friends you held at the time. None of them of your mother.

The thought brought an immediate sour taste in the back of your mouth.

“You swore to me you wouldn’t get distracted again.”

Nanami’s voice filtered into the living room from your hallway, his t-shirt clad torso holding a large box with ease before he set it down next to you and sagged against the wall to join you on the floor.

“Old memories. I couldn’t help it.” You felt his eyes try to pry over your shoulder, his body leaning slightly to get a better look before you slammed the book closed with a chuckle. “Nice try. I won’t let you see me in my early years.”

He offered you a dramatic eye roll, brow arching in challenge before he narrowed his gaze at you.

“I’ve seen every inch of your body. A few pictures of you with braces should be little to nothing.”

You squeaked, your cheeks blushing red as his blunt words made your brain jolt in shock.

He smirked, using the lapse in your judgement to reach a long and muscular arm across you and snatch the book from your hands. You protested, trying to move quick to snag it back but stopping short when you felt his hand on the side of your neck, holding you in place as his other hand opened the book to a random page. Of course, it was a yearbook picture. His eyes analyzed the fourth grade you in a purple turtleneck, flower earrings, and two front teeth missing. Oh God.

He hummed in response which only made your heart threaten to give out. As quick as he had the book, he closed it, releasing his hold on you and offering the photo album as if nothing had happened.

“It was a lovely picture.” You snatched it from him in annoyance, huffing dramatically to get your point across that you were embarrassed.

“It’s only fair that I see some old photos of you then?”

Nanami scoffed, head resting against the wall of your living room before turning to look down at you.

“Why on Earth would I do that?”

You smacked him on the arm in response, pulling a soft chuckle from him.

His gaze was soft, brown eyes studying yours and searching for something that you once again couldn’t figure out.

You were beginning to love seeing him like this, still quiet yet so carefree as he relaxed more around you. His blonde locks were once again without its typical part, instead falling loosely over his forehead and making him look more serious and rough.

“Just your studio is left. I’ll get some wrap from the moving truck and—”

The sound of your doorbell cut him off and he stood immediately, offering his hands to pull you up with him. You pushed your t-shirt down over your belly, glancing into the peephole before you made a small noise of surprise and pulled yourself away.

It was your mother.

Nanami had never met her but judging from the look on your face, he put the pieces together instantly.

“Let me answer it,” he insisted, his hand reaching for the doorknob before you stopped him.

“I can do it.” He shot you a look of concern, eyebrows hitching together and pulling a crease between them. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

When you opened the door to the look of your indifferent mother, that confidence fizzled immediately.

“Hi Mom. Is there something wrong?”

She scoffed, her brown eyes shooting you a characteristic icy glare. You refused to let it cut through you this time and you planted your feet firmer into the ground, shoulders tightening as you looked at her.

“I want to know why there is a moving truck in your driveway and your house that I worked hard to find for you is being packed up.”

No apologies for putting you in the hospital. No words of remorse for constantly tearing down the confidence of her only daughter and trying to make her a shell of herself. Only immediate accusation, changing the narrative to make it seem as if you owed her something.

“You helped me find the house, but I paid for it and the deed is under my name.” Her eyes narrowed further, challenging you. You wouldn’t budge. “And I’m moving.”

She inclined her head towards you sarcastically, shifting into a stance as if to seem like she was waiting for you to answer her unspoken question.

“To where?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, the tendrils of anxiety beginning to stretch their arms around your feet, waking up slowly before wrapping around you.

“Why does that matter, Mom? You’ve never cared what I do or where I’ve gone before. This shouldn’t be any different. I’m leaving Sendai. End of story.”

She pointed an elegant finger in your face, the hints of her overbearing lavender perfume hitting your nose and making you nauseous.

“Watch the attitude. I’m your mother—”

“Being my mother gives you no right to speak to me how you do. I’ve been nothing but a good daughter and you’ve done nothing but push me down—”

“I’m sure it’s for that girl.”

The righteousness was in full swing now. She knew Omelia’s name. The minute your mother resorted to being petty was the minute you knew her words were about to hurt.

“Anywhere she goes, you follow like a dog. You’ve never been able to do any thinking on your own. I had to tell you where to go to school, what to major in, what companies to apply for. Everything you’ve done has been because I had to tell you—”

“That’s quite enough.”

Nanami’s voice was hard from behind you, unyielding and laced with an anger that only you were able to notice after so long around him.

You were still rooted to the spot in front of your mother. You knew to expect nastiness, but the degree of it was harder than you were anticipating. You could feel the prickle of tears in the back of your eyes but you refused to let them show, willing your body to be in control just until she stormed back to her own overly large house. The familiar ache in your abdomen from ligament pain reared its ugly head, sharp and sudden that made the corners of your mouth twitch. You could feel those tendrils slide around your calves, sticky with self-loathing and intent on making its way around your throat.

Nanami’s warm hand enveloped one of yours, pulling you gently away from your mother and slightly behind him as a means to offer some form of protection you immediately appreciated. Your mother’s sharp eyes caught the gesture, cutting gaze hitting yours before she looked up at Nanami.

“I’m guessing you’re the father?”

“I don’t think that matters. What does matter right now is that you’ve shown up with the intention of getting information from someone that doesn’t want you to know.” Naveah opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted. “Your daughter is moving away. She does not want you to know where that is. Given how you’ve treated her, I can understand why. I don’t know you and quite frankly I do not wish to if you treat her the way you do.”

Her eyes flashed with indignation, cheeks tinging a darker brown in anger as she glared at Nanami.

“Pregnant, without a ring, and with a man outside of her race.” You shook your head in anger as she spoke, such crude words that she was proud to willingly let leave her mouth. Her eyes hit yours again. “You are ruined.”

“Please leave, Mom.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, body slightly trembling from the pain in your stomach and the anxiety now nestled around your chest. “You’ve said everything that you need to me. Just leave.”

She didn’t budge, shoulders taut and pulled up by her ears, face hot with rage and disappointment, fists clenched at her sides, manicured nails digging into her palms. Another twinge in your abdomen, sharper this time and harder to control as you hissed softly to yourself. Nanami looked down at you instantly, eyes roving over you with concern before icing over and looking at your mother.

“I’m done being patient.”

The tone of his voice was lower than you were expecting, deep and menacing and wrapping your mother with a veil of fear that she couldn’t control. Her eyes widened fractionally, shoulders tensing further.

“Unless she tells me otherwise, don’t come near her. Don’t look for her or call her or seek her out in anyway. The fact that your words cause her enough pain to end up in the hospital and your lack of remorse is enough to make me want to vomit.”

He took one step further towards her and she shuffled back, eyebrows furrowed in anger but hesitation filling in her eyes.

“Trespassing is a very tiresome offense to call in. So I’ll need you to leave. Now.”

Your mother hesitated for only a moment more before she turned around sharply, briskly walking to her silver Sedan and peeling from your driveway.

The silence in the room was hard to ignore when the front door closed. Nanami turned to you, looking down at you quietly as you tried desperately to will away the tears blurring your vision.

You were used to this from her; you spent your whole life listening to her hurtful words over and over with the thought that just maybe you would have thicker skin. But every single time you were around her, the words got more hurtful, more biting, more nasty to the point where being in her presence brought you nothing but stress and insecurity.

You didn’t realize he was speaking to you, his soft voice echoing in the background of your loud and self-deprecating thoughts as you slowly came back to reality, rubbing away the pain in your stomach and breathing shakily. You couldn’t look at him like this; you couldn’t let him see you so raw and open and bleeding. So you smiled up at him instead, wiping away your tears hastily.

“Let’s go pack up the studio and that should be it.”

He didn’t offer a response as he followed you down the hall. The concrete floor had been cleaned to perfection, but the walls were still decorated with shelves, your work on each of them. Stoneware bowls and traditional earthware vases and mugs were common sights, but you had your own touches. Ceramic faces that you had put together with molded shapes and designs, terracotta water dishes decorated in patterns of your own creation, even figurines that you had simply pulled from thin air, all colored and glazed to perfection. Amongst the shelves were frames of your paintings, watercolor, oil, and even acrylic of landscapes and portraits. Seeing it all made you feel a little better.

“You made all of these?”

It was the first words he had spoken in minutes but they were filled with astonishment as he walked around the room, his tall form analyzing each piece closely.

“I sure did. Started when I was seven; Rory taught me everything I know—at least with ceramics. The painting was from a class I took in middle school and just kind of kept going.”

Nanami was truly in awe as he looked from piece to piece, admiring the attention to detail. He could see yourself in all of it, imagined that same purse of your lips throwing clay and painting just like when you were taking notes in a meeting. He took pictures, waiting until you weren’t looking to snap good photos for him to admire later. Years of hard work brought out the most beautiful things from you and filled him with a sense of something he was still trying to figure out.

“You have such a gift.”

Even though he was across the room when he spoke the words, it felt as if he was so close. The sincerity in his compliment made your stomach clench, a small smile forming on your face as you wrapped a terracotta bowl with bubble wrap.

“Thank you.”

He joined you seconds later, wrapping dishes and figurines before stowing them carefully into a cardboard box. He wanted to give you space, the last thing he would ever make you feel was obligated to share your feelings. He wanted to comfort you, shake your shoulders and beg you to tell him exactly how you were feeling. But he knew it would only scare you away, and he was determined to never let that happen again.

“She never liked it—my mother.”

You found yourself speaking, the fear of his reaction a very pressing concern, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Were you ready? No. But you also knew that speaking about this again wouldn’t come willingly for a very long time.

“Rory took me to a throwing class when I was seven and I brought home a cup and she threw it in the garbage. Told me that I need to spend my summers studying, not ‘playing arts and crafts’. With her, she only smiled when I brought home good grades or got an internship, or when I got into the university here in Sendai and I got my first nice job at the company. They were little moments, so I worked hard doing what she wanted just to feel something from her. I think that’s why your comments hurt as much as they did. They were true. I would work as hard as I could just to get her to look at me for a second. Guess that bled into my work life as well.”

You cleared your throat as you wrapped a stoneware plate, fingers running along the ridges of paint before you packed it away.

“My dad died before I was born, and she cut off all contact with his side of the family, so I never knew them. Her side of the family is just as evil as her so I stay away when I can. Don’t feel like you need to do anything about my mother, Nanami. She’s been that way for as long as I can remember. I should be stronger than this. She’s hurt me so much that I should know not to expect anything from her. But every time she talks to me, her words are just as painful as the last time and I’m left sniveling like an idiot.”

You blanched at the tears that fell down onto a glazed pot, the sight shocking you as you realized just how much you were crying.

“Fuck.” You hissed harshly, setting down the dish and wiping at your face frantically in order to get yourself together in front of him.

He hadn’t offered any words as you spoke, didn’t make a sound or try to distract you. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.

But the feel of his hands cradling your face made you pull in a shaky breath, his face was stony as usual, but his eyes were melting with a fierceness that made you gasp. His thumbs stroked away the thick tears on your cheeks, smearing them away from under your eyelids so you could see him a little better.

“Just because you’re used to her words does not make them less painful. It does not make you weaker either. I hope that one day she will realize just how much she has hurt you. But until then, I need you to realize none of her words are true. You’ve worked hard, y/n. Any mother would be proud of just an inch of the effort you give to yours so willingly. Hearing her words and how they affect you only made me angrier with myself for my behavior when we worked together. I’m sorry. I truly am.” You shook your head to brush off his apology but the furrow in his brow was enough to keep you silent. “Walking into this room and seeing all of these things you’ve made, its remarkable to me. I can only hope our child has the same gifts as you.”

You scoffed wetly. “Arts and crafts?”

“No. Being able to take anything and make it beautiful. With work, with the people around you, with a bag of clay and a tray of paint. Do not demean who you are.”

They were such beautiful words that only made you tear up more, such elegant things to say that would take many awhile to think of. But to Nanami, you were beginning to realize that speaking this way to you was as easy as breathing. Effortless and without thought, but impactful in such a way that it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter a little more incessantly and the thumping in your chest pound harder against your ribcage. He didn’t offer anything else, content to stroke away your tears and let you come down from your rushing emotions before silently offering you another dish to wrap and store away.

You were practically jumping in place as you unlocked the door to your new home. The movers had stopped by earlier when you were busy with Rory. Nanami had insisted on handling the details, ensuring everything would be unwrapped and placed in areas he felt you would like. Ome had been dodging your calls all day, using the new job as an excuse even though her first day was still a few days away and she was more than prepared. But you took it all in stride, content to let a new batch of children—Aoki included—keep you occupied with questions and sticky hands as you walked them though a throwing class.

You had fully intended to squeal in delight at the sight of your new sofa, sink into the plush cushions before sending Ome a picture of your new living room.

So to see her inside of your house with all of your friends, Nanami’s parents, and even the Haibara family shouting ‘surprise’ and shooting off celebratory ribbons was the last thing you expected.

Unexpected but immediately feeling you with warmth as you smiled at them.

“Congrats on your new home, babe!” Ome hugged you softly, shaking you gently and laughing into your ear. “I put it all together!”

“Ome, this is so sweet. Thank you.”

The soft hum of music in your ears was a welcome feeling as you flooded between people, giving your thanks and answering questions about the baby who had hit the 17 week mark. Your bump was definitely noticeable now, but not too large to be uncomfortable. Your long sleeve, button down white dress with a high slit was airy enough to not stick to your skin but still show you were expecting.

The pink hair was hard to miss as the man attached came barreling towards you, a wide grin on his face and Megumi in tow.

“Y/n! You get more pretty every time I see you, you’re glowing!”

He offered you a gentle hug, rambling immediately about work and his day as Megumi was silent at his side. Even though his demeanor was that of nonchalance, his dark blue eyes were filled with warmth and contentment. Nobara was across the living room, gushing over Ome and asking about her purse. Gojo was waiting his turn to speak to her, arms crossed over his chest and a foot tapping on the floor in comical impatience. He was antsy to be near her and you could understand why. Ome never held back when it came to her outfits and that included the off shoulder baby blue long sleeve blouse that hugged her breasts and torso snuggly. Her black jeans only accentuated her backside and thick thighs and the booties she wore added an inch of height. Her kinky locks were pulled up into a high bun, a few tendrils out and framing her face.

Gojo was practically drooling.

“I wish I could get a woman as beautiful as you. Your skin is the softest I’ve ever felt.”

Yuji was as blunt as ever but also just as oblivious.

Megumi immediately clocked Yuji in the back of the head, a choke leaving his throat and a hand reaching back to rub the spot in embarrassment.

“Forgive us, l/n-san.” Megumi was elegant as ever as he bowed politely and yanked a protesting Yuji away from you.

“He has a crush on you.”

You turned to the source, smiling gently as Nanami in all his handsome glory saddled up next to you. Dark jeans—yet another mark on your bingo card—, a button up dark blue long sleeve shirt that hid nothing from you, the top two buttons undone and showing a delicious sliver of collarbone. His hair was parted but ungelled, allowing the bangs to fall naturally around his face. No glasses to accentuate his face but you welcomed the naturally sharp gaze as he looked down at you.

You hummed in agreement but shrugged.

“I don’t mind. He’s my favorite.”

“I know this is a surprise that Ome put together, but I would like to show you something as well.”

His voice wasn’t low enough to sound like an innuendo, but he was also capable of looking you straight in the eye before saying something he thought was normal even though it only echoed scandalously in your ears.

When he closed the door to your empty backyard, hand clutching a black folder, you were more than concerned. But he simply offered you the envelope awkwardly, his cheeks coloring just a little in shyness.

The shaky breath you let out as you read everything over was enough to make you dizzy. It was detailed documents of conversations between the higherups highlighting the intention to use you as intel of other companies and then firing you before you could capitalize on anything. Reports compiled with financial data to show the company was not—and won’t be for some time—at risk to only show that they lied in their reasoning for laying you off. All of your ideas, every single thing you had suggested during your short time of merging with the Tokyo branch was all written out in front of you. Every single idea with a projected budget and project plan, a marketing agreement and statements of work all reviewed and signed by Yaga and Nanami. You also didn’t expect to see a copy of the termination letter of Mahito and Gakuganji. But the most jarring of all was the very last document in the folder.

Freshly printed and signed by Yaga himself, an offer letter. A salary far higher than what you had ever made before and a higher title that you had worked so hard to achieve.

You couldn’t cry, you had spent a little time getting your mascara perfectly right. If you messed up this cat’s eye, you would never forgive yourself.

“After you were laid off, Gojo and I did some digging and were able to compile documentation to show what they were planning to do with you. There was absolutely no reason to fire you. Gojo found more than enough testimonials from other laid off employees about the behavior directed at them from Mahito and Gakuganji. I was able to find all transcripts of our meetings together to get every idea you had on paper. We worked with Geto to come up with financial details if and when you turn them into full-scale projects that you would lead yourself. Yaga and Jin immediately drafted an offer letter for you.”

He swallowed loudly, the anxiety radiating off of him in waves as he looked down at you. Your eyes were still locked on the offer letter, tears threatening to spill as you tried to come down from your sudden bought of shock.

“I know it’s not a Director. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted. But without any openings I couldn’t…I apologize that it took me so long to draft this up. I needed—had to get this right. I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

As you looked down at everything, you wanted to feel a sense of joy, of unbridled happiness and accomplishment for finally getting acknowledged for your work.

But instead, you simply felt unfulfilled.

Because while you loved your work in marketing, you knew you would never be able to enjoy it anymore. Having the freedom to finally to do something you loved made the thought of a corporate life that much more unappealing.

You wouldn’t be happy and for once you wanted to actually do something that you were good at and filled you with a sense of happiness and accomplishment.

But the thought of Nanami doing all of this, weeks of work with your friends to get rid of the people who had wronged you, it made your heart beat just a little faster, made the fluttering in your stomach thrum just a little more noticeably. All of this. Just for you.

“I can’t accept this.”

The look of despair on his face was hard to ignore, he was absolutely crestfallen, his stoic demeaner falling away instantly.

“What I mean is…I’ve realized that I just don’t enjoy marketing as much as I used to. And I don’t want to force myself to try and be happy with it again. I want…I want to pursue my passions; I want to be able to wake up and do what I love and make money because I know I’m fucking good at it.” Nanami shook out a small chuckle, his face relaxing slowly. “I’m glad that they’re gone. It gives someone like Yuji a fair shot of getting where he needs to be. Give these ideas to him, he’s so passionate about it that I couldn’t see it with anyone else.”

You closed the folder and handed it back to him, the air outside quiet and without wind, encasing you both in this moment together.

“I swore to you that I would fix this and I don’t want you to feel—”

“You did fix it Nanami.” You placed a hand on his cheek, reveling in the softness and warmth of his skin. “You fixed it all and I’m so, so happy.”

You don’t know what compelled you to do what you did next, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a firm hug. His tall form dwarfed you, broad shoulders relaxing and muscular arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close, your baby bump brushing against his abdomen. That smell that you had grown to love wafted around you, using the air to pick up and touch every inch of your skin.

“These past few weeks, you’ve made me feel so safe and protected and wanted just for who I am.”

You buried your face hard into his neck, his skin rubbing against yours before you felt a hand run up and down your back.

“Thank you, Kento.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to really and that was more than enough for you. You could feel it in almost every touch with him. You could feel just how much he would do, how far he would go, how much he would say, just for you.

“Will you have dinner with me?”

The question made you freeze against him, your eyes widening as you replayed the words over and over in your head. He couldn’t pull back to look at you, too afraid to see your reaction on the chance that you would reject him. He could play it off, smile down at you instead and guide you back into the party and pretend as if nothing happened. He could do it, as much as he didn’t want to. But instead he felt you tighten your embrace around his neck, chuckling into his skin softly before you smiled into him.

“I will.”

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aftonfamilyvalues · 11 months ago

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Am I weird for being anxious living with someone who spends 90% of their time in the common areas, so could easily talk to me to my face, but chooses to wait till I’m in my room to text me?

It’s so triggering; when I lived with my folks my father harassed me constantly, I started declaring my room as my space where he was not allowed to bother me. I told him it’s my space to focus on my hobbies and study (I was in my 20’s, and wasn’t living there rent free so… ) I compromised/tried to compromise with “I’m not available at x time but when mh door is open or I’m not in my room you can talk to me.” Ofc it had nothing to do with wanting to interact with me (the man sexually abused me, for years, he got off on violating my boundaries,) because I’d compromise and say if it’s important you can email or text me and I’ll talk to you when I’m done studying. I’d state I’m available in the afternoon or evening.”

Nope. He’d email me or text me. If I didn’t respond to an email, it was a text, then he’d be knocking on my door. He’s harass me daily on my room. I’m talking sending me a text, then five minutes later banging on my door (I feel like 3 hours is a good response window… not five minutes. And this was daily to the point I didn’t feel safe in my own room/ no space was my safe space.)

Now that I’m moved out, it’s very triggering if I’m living with someone who can’t wait till I’m out of my room to talk to me. It’s very triggering to be texted by someone in the same damn house. It makes me feel smothered and harassed.

I’m so uncomfortable with my roommate who I didn’t know was home, who overheard me complaining about how the door keeps sticking making it hard to open and shut. She texted me that she’d hate for that to be an issue and can fix it if I need help.

Wtf, girl you didn’t speak to me for a month and a half why are you texting me 😭😭I legtimently get panic attacks. Like I initiate verbal conversations if there’s a conflict or a problem, and I am solution based. I’m not confrontational I like to negotiate and resolve thinfs. We had a whole ass conversation where we agreed she would write me up a new lease. She didn’t speak to me and emailed it to me without saying anything. I spent w month panicking about being homeless. I hate her. Her conflict resolution style is to give me the silent treatment and if she has to talk to me/has something to say, she texts me. As if nothing happened. I can’t. Am I insane or is this not normal behavior? (Very close to living alone… waiting on a housing agency. I went from being on disability to working and still my earnings put me at risk for being homeless. I can’t with the passive aggressive shit and then “💓💗what do you need? I’m so kind” texts. As if I didn’t spend a month dealing with AUD because I thought she changed her mind and I was literally looking up homeless shelters

Now she’s texting me all “sweet” about giving my door. Wtf 😭this shit is so triggering I start shaking and crying because it reminds me of how my father would treat me (except for the silent treatment, but it was basically him wanting to assert dominance and harassing me via texts while I’m in my room to be safe and away from him.)

i think maybe if this roommate is giving you this many issues you should find someplace else to go

#ask

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fleur-risen · 1 year ago

Text

Old School Social Media

I'll come right out with it. I'm a millennial--and an introvert who made geeky anime websites in high school instead of socializing. I've been searching a long time for someplace (post-livejournal) to chronologize my thoughts in a way that does not require a link to real-world accounts or the effort of creating visually appealing content.

Growing up, my parents didn't believe in mental health wellness, nor were they open to discussion on how their hyper-religious beliefs and methods impacted their children (mostly me because, of course, my younger brother was never held to the same standards as I, the oldest and female child). My mother is a narcissist with a victim mindset who specializes in FOG. As a teenager, I became my dad's caregiver after he was fatally injured at work because she would swoon in dramatics and hide in bed any time bloody or infected bandages needed to be changed (or when any other measure of caring for her significantly older spouse came up).

Since then, I've broken free of the hold of the Pentecostal church, toxic family dynamics, overbearing and controlling mother figures, a marriage with an abusive heroin addict, and needing to be a single mother to my daughter. I am in a better place now: remarried to a man who treats me with respect and helps provide for the household, the ability to be healthy and mentally present to my biological daughter and stepdaughter, a beautiful house, two dogs, a successful career working from home (although my current position leaves much to be desired--it is a placeholder until something better), and my education (I just graduated with my masters)...

I'm due with another daughter in early 2024. I've accomplished the dream--everything I ever wanted, and what I've sought to manifest--but not without a lot of sacrifice. 2023 alone brought a surprise job loss (with a shocking loss of benefits I was counting on) and a miscarriage--two things that completely shook the safe foundation that I've worked so hard to build.

I feel disconnected, and I couldn't figure out why.

I am, years later, still trying to work through the broken pieces of my past. Without an online community where I can freely think, my lifeline throughout the last few years turned to writing young adult/new adult fiction. This has been an endeavor in which I've been successful. My stories started as a hobby, never meant to be seen by the world, but I published my books on a whim and poured my thoughts and energy into my characters, the plot, and the feeling. And it's helped (despite the negativity of naysayers, who live to bash any author, anywhere--the author community and bloggers can be virulent).

In the end--it still isn't enough. I haven't written since my miscarriage and job loss earlier this year--people are asking me on social media how the next book is coming. I get emails from fans looking for information. I'm too ashamed to post anything. How do I get past this? I'm afraid of the next book, the next paragraph. I miss and adore my stories. I dream about them at night and wake up with ideas floating through my head.

But when I sit down, I can't write a word.

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082112 · 1 year ago

Text

A few thoughts from today:

1. I am seriously thinking about leaving Alaska and Outer Coast early. Called Michelle today and told her about all my horrible thoughts: that I am allowed to rest because I got my big tech internship, ergo my gap year is “baseline successful”; if I get a winter big tech internship I’ll let myself drop out because then I will be “doing something with my gap year instead of bumming around”; and my reasons to not drop out right now, which mainly revolve around needing a transcript from this school so I can show grad schools I’m not bumming around and staying long enough that I can farm this experience for application essays and interview answers in the future. “They’re horrible, ugly thoughts,” I said, “if these are the reasons I’m staying, I should not stay. But I keep thinking, what am I gonna tell the Marshall selection committee in two years? It’s a horrible way of thinking.” And I am ashamed of it, I think. The truth is that I’m not having a good time right now. I’m desperately homesick and horribly anxious and don’t feel any level of human warmth from the people here anywhere near the level I need to feel happy and safe, and that’s terrifying, and it makes me fear that the rest of my life any time I go someplace new will be like this, and by my own social inadequacies and follies I will be consigned to a life of aching solitude. Of course logically I know that not to be true. But my mental health has been bad the past few weeks, and fear speaks often to me. Mom and dad are supportive, though, of whatever I do - and have told me many wise things, like “it’s okay to have a bad experience” and “you can’t blame yourself for everything and attribute all your hardships to personal failings” and “you should listen to yourself.” It’s a bit sad, because I had a good few weeks (despite a horrendous first week) when I came here and there are things I have gained and events I have been a part of that have made me feel very happy and fulfilled, in a way. Something about nature and ancestors and movement and culture and song. But I’ve been quite miserable and homesick for the past week and a half, and I seriously just want to go home. It’s not a good use of my time to be miserable alone here when every time I call home the house in everyone’s backgrounds is filled with warmth. And yet I keep on telling myself I’m halfway through and only have 6 real weeks of classes left, I can stick it through, I can spend my free time reading books and watching anime and playing games instead of moping, et cetera… so I’m horribly torn.

2. Language - being here really re-affirms my belief that I want to learn more languages of the world. And also learn more language in English - I have felt so often and so achingly much that there are so many things I have not found language to say, and those unsayable things live with me every day and I feel them constantly. And today I was just thinking of that, and how much I wanted to write poetry again. How much I wanted to find it in me.

3. On brilliant minds: this has two parts. The first is that I realize I seriously idolize my teachers when I admire them, when in reality they are JUST A GUY. So when I don’t get the attention I want from them (this is often) I nope and blame myself and question everything about the world, all the questions that haunt me like if there is subliminal racism or sexism or whateverism, if they see less of my personhood than if I had the precisely same mind in the body of a white person. And endless comparisons to peers. And I want to be recognized as a brilliant and exceptional mind by these teachers so badly. But the moment that thought crossed my mind today I struck it down - first, my teachers are flawed humans too. Great holders of knowledge, sure, but also susceptible to bias and ego and ignorance. Secondly, I do not really want the purpose of my intellect or anything else I cultivate to be in service to gaining recognition from a select few. To be honest, I’m not as invested in having an exceptionally brilliant mind as I was when I was younger. Of course this illusion still stands. But more and more now I really just want a mind that has the facilities I require to know the world in the ways I need for the greater part of myself to feel things like wonder and peace and anger and sadness, all meshed together in that impossible understanding of grief and joy and light.

So - top M.O.s at Outer Coast include:

- scheduling therapy

- reading more books

- watching more shows

- de-idolizing staffulty and recognizing the just-some-guyness of them

- deciding whether or not I want to leave

It’s crazy and unbelievable to me that everything is gonna be okay. But very clearly too I can see that everything is definitely gonna be okay.

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xantoninxdolohovx · 2 months ago

Text

“Prospective, or middle man I think.” Antonin went over to the man, taking out his wand, making sure the man wouldn’t wake up auy time soon before continuing to talk. He took out a bit of paper and a small writing implement trying to capture the man’s face. “Probably thought it was a dead drop and he could get something from us, blackmail if nothing else, there is a war on. It’s one problem with using methods such as mine, but I really don’t mind as I rarely come out worse from such an encounter, and the few times I have, well it pays to have friends you can call upon when the need arises.” He looked to the heap that was once a man. “If nothing else this should serve to teach you that people who remain neutral need to be watched as much as anyone else.”

He looked through the man’s coat, pocketing a coin purse and a copy of the ad. “He was traveling light. Didn’t want to be identified, but I have a few resources. He attacked us, that will make it easier to look into who he might be without triggering too many alarm bells the wrong way. Could make things easier, but we’ll have to keep him someplace no one will come looking or could find him at an inopportune minute. I’m thinking he might be the one to make the attack on poor Hestia. It’s always good to do my duty for the ministry and put a dangerous wizard off the street.” His smile was predatory as he looked down at the sleeping man.

“What do you think Rabasthan, it doesn’t matter who he was. He’s a scape goat that’s fallen into our laps. We’ll get him to talk eventually one way or another.” Getting the man to wherever they would put him wouldn’t be too hard. No, the hard part would be getting Rabastan to house him, and giving him free access. Well worst case he could burn one of the less attached apartments. It was about time he went looking for someplace new. Maybe more accessible a believable flat.

“So do you have room for him or some dungeon in that manor of yours. It doesn’t have to be as elaborate as Alectos, but a secure place we can keep him until we’ve done the delicate work of extracting and reshaping his memories.” He looked around not seeing anyone, but still preferring a more secluded location. Besides it had been a while since he’d visited Rabastan’s manor. “No one seems to be around yet, but I would like to have a safe place to apparate to once we pull down the wards.”

Were it not for his naturally impassive personality, Rabastan could have snorted at the explanation. As much as he'd loved Antonin's novel communication method, it had been convoluted. Now, they were paying the price. Dolohov seemed to prefer complicated routes. Rabastan always opted for the most straightforward, seeking results with maximum efficiency and minimum fuss. This incident illustrated the strength in his usual methods, but he cared little for placing blame and would not point out that the sock idea - as amusing as it was - had been Dolohov's inspiration.

As his comrade toyed with the man, Rabastan mulled upon their options. They filtered through his brain like a series of pathways, each one suggesting outcomes that were either beneficial or risked further hazards. He was lightly distracted by Dolohov plucking out their victim's hair. There could be only one purpose for the action. Rabastan narrowed his eyes, trying to ascertain why Antonin might want to adopt this wizard's identity. It was a fleeting thought, wiped away by the overly attentive study of his own cloak before Antonin placed a hand to his shoulder. God only knew what was going through Dolohov's twisted head. He decided to ask him about it later, already having concluded that the reasons might be indecipherable.

The man was in no position to barter. But Rabastan lowered the spell, permitting him to stand on his feet though the rope still remained firm around his figure, now with less intensity. A part-concession would be better than total refusal or agreement, as it would give the man hope. It was remarkable how powerful that emotion could be. People would do all kinds of things for love of hope. It was why he fought this war, after all. It was why he would sacrifice himself willingly and without regret; for hope of a better future.

"It is unusual to desire used socks," he indicated pointedly, turning his stare to the meet the wizard's. "Why did you follow? Do not lie. Then I will release you and we can continue conversing like civilised wizards." Perhaps, though the look on the other man's face told him that he had no intention of speaking reasonably. He seemed to battle for words, as though scrambling to decide whether defiance would be worth the risk. Apparently, it was.

"Let me down!" he demanded, then with an almighty surge, he wrenched himself free of the rope and made a run for it. Rabastan could have recaptured him, but it seemed more pertinent to let him flee then face a punishment afterwards.

"That went well," he said wryly to Antonin, regarding the man's departing figure as it rushed hurriedly towards the impenetrable spell work. He knew what would happen. Yet the result was still more thrilling than anything else that had happened thus far. The wizard collided with the enchantments, smashing face first into the invisible wall. He flew backwards spectacularly, an electrical current launching between his flesh and the spells like a dull lightning. Then he landed in a heap and Rabastan could not help but openly laugh. "Perhaps he really did just want your socks. I do not think he's an auror, unless their standards have gone severely downhill."

#thread #thread:rabastan

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taexual · 3 years ago

Text

NCT 127 / giving gifts

warning: as per request, this is tooth rotting fluff 🥺

requested by anonymous.

↣ taeil

Because of how busy you both were, you usually kept in touch by texting throughout the day and facetiming whenever you had some more free time. However, lately, Taeil had been stuck in the studio longer than usually.

He knew that you were struggling with your deadlines, and he felt like text messages couldn’t fully express his support. Since he couldn’t see you – and writing you a letter may have been taking it a step too far – he settled for the next best thing.

When you opened the door of your apartment on Monday to see a cardboard bucket of flowers—roses, daffodils, peonies, and many others you didn’t recognize at first glance—in the hands of a struggling delivery person, you had to take a step back and ask if they were sure they got the right address.

The address was right, they insisted, begging you to just please take the flowers, because they weighed a ton. With a quick thank you, you accepted the bouquet – that was more like a shrub, really, full of various colors in it – and heaved it inside, placing it on the coffee table in your living room.

There was a note in-between the anemones and the lilies of the valley, and you fished it out. The handwriting wasn’t familiar to you, but the nickname that was used to address you, absolutely was. You knew the bouquet was from Taeil immediately.

“I know this week will be hard,” the note read. “Remember that I am rooting for you. Hopefully this brings some color to your house and a smile to your face. P.S., you didn’t tell me what your favorite flower was, so I had to get you a few of each. Don’t go calling me to complain about how heavy the bouquet is – that’s your own fault. Love you.”

↣ johnny

There didn’t even need to be an occasion for him to give you something, and it genuinely confused the other members sometimes. Yuta spotted him once when he was getting ready for his date with you, and grinned, nodding his head at the flowers in Johnny’s hands.

“Anniversary?” he asked knowingly.

Johnny looked down at the flowers, then back at Yuta again, confused. “No?”

“Oh. Why the flowers, then?”

Johnny looked like he was just asked to explain why humans usually had ten fingers and ten toes. “Because I’m going on a date.”

“Right, I got that,” Yuta said, mentally retracing his steps to check if he’d really asked something that was obvious, but he was just too dumb to realize. “But, I mean, you’ve been going on dates for over a year now.”

“That’s right,” Johnny nodded. “Why would I not bring flowers when I go on a date?”

Defeated by that logic, Yuta waved a dismissive hand and turned around.

“Nevermind,” he said, giving up on the conversation. “I don’t know why I asked. Give your girlfriend my best.”

Left alone, Johnny finished getting ready and then drove to your house to pick you up. He never really understood why this confused Yuta – and the others, too – because this was your tradition. He always arrived at your place to pick you up for the date, gave you flowers, took you someplace nice, always opened all doors and pulled up all the chairs for you.

“You’re spoiling me,” you’d tell him every time, a wide smile on your face. “No one else could ever live up to your standards.”

“Good,” Johnny would reply, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “And it beats me why you would ever need anyone else.”

↣ taeyong

He loved and hated giving you gifts. Loved that, of course, because he got to be the reason for the smile on your face. But hated it too, because it involved many sleepless nights as he tried to decide on what to get you.

Eventually, as your relationship progressed, Taeyong came to know what you enjoyed more, so coming up with gift ideas became easier – even more so when you admitted that the gift itself wasn’t really a priority to you, it was the sentiment behind it that mattered most.

And that was why he showed up to your house with a chocolate cake he’d baked from scratch the night before. There wasn’t even any occasion – at least, not that you could remember – he just thought you had looked rather sad this whole week, and he wanted to get you something to cheer you up.

“You shouldn’t have,” you told him after the two of you settled in your kitchen with forks. You didn’t even bother with any plates or with actually cutting the cake. It was meant just for you and him anyway. “I would have loved it just as much if you showed up without bringing anything.”

“I thought you could use the sugar boost,” he replied with a soft, loving smile. “Oh, hey, you got a bit of—”

He leaned in instead of finishing the sentence, and gently wiped the chocolate from the corner of your lips with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. The effortless—albeit cliché—move left you speechless for the first few seconds, and then you laughed, surprising him.

“What?” he asked, his eyes genuinely confused.

“Nothing,” you replied with a shake of your head, cutting another bite of the cake with your fork. “You’ve definitely read the ‘How to Be a Great Boyfriend’ manual, haven’t you?”

“Oh, read it?” Taeyong snickered before bringing his tongue over his lips and giving you his most charming look. “I wrote it.”

↣ yuta

He had always had a difficult time telling how big of a gift was too big. He got you a bouquet of flowers so large on your first date, your back hurt after carrying it around the whole night.

Unfortunately, that did not change the longer that you dated, and you found yourself accepting a suspicious package in the mail with Yuta’s address as the sender. When you opened it inside of your apartment, you had to do a double take because, surely, there was no way your boyfriend had—for no reason whatsoever—just sent you a long, burgundy gown, eerily similar to the one you’d liked pictures of on Instagram.

Picking your phone up, you dialed Yuta’s number to figure out what, exactly, was the meaning of this, since there was no actual purpose—that you could come up with—for him to send you this.

“Hey!” his unusually cheerful voice picked up. “Did you get the package? I got a message saying it was just delivered to your house.”

That explained the chipper tone of his voice. You bit your lip as you said, “I got it. I—”

“What did you think?” Yuta asked, eager to hear how happy you were.

“I—it’s beautiful,” you said, the hesitation in your voice confusing him a little. “Really, it’s—wow. But—”

“You don’t like it?”

His voice had faltered, so you hurried to interject. “No, I love it! It’s just… There’s no—well, no occasion, really. I don’t understand w-why—”

“I thought you would look fantastic in it, so I got it for you,” he said and then added, almost outraged that you would say something like that, “and what do you mean, there’s no occasion? I love you. That’s the occasion.”

↣ doyoung

You’d made it very clear in your relationship that spending quality time with someone was the best gift they could give you, and Doyoung respected—and, honestly, loved—that. However, sometimes that wasn’t possible, especially when he was away from you for extended periods of time.

You knew he loved you – and he knew that you knew – but he still felt the need to show this love in another way when he couldn’t be next to you. So, since normal, stereotypical gifts weren’t really your thing, Doyoung sent you food.

He’d mail you care packages if he was away – leaving little notes on the snacks that he’d packed, like translating the labels, or giving you specific instructions when to eat something, such as, “this is full of sugar, so if you don’t eat this entire candy bar in one sitting when you’re studying, I will personally fly over there and feed you the whole thing. Much love, xx.”

You’d send him pictures in response – of yourself, actually eating whatever he’d mailed you, or just laying in the sea of snacks on your bed – and Doyoung honestly felt like your smile in those pictures was your gift to him.

He’d be sitting in a hotel room, grinning to himself as he scrolled through the pictures you’d sent him, and his chest would feel so full, he wouldn’t know how his heart could still fit in there.

“Look at him, smiling to himself like an idiot,” one of the boys—usually Johnny—would comment when they saw Doyoung with that look on his face.

“Texting his girlfriend again,” another one—usually Mark—would correctly assume, and both of them would always exhale in bitter unison, “I’m so jealous.”

↣ jaehyun

He usually put a lot of thought into the gifts he was giving you – planning out anniversaries, birthdays and other special occasions weeks, or even months, in advance. But then there were also times, when he was just out in the city, and he spotted something that reminded him of you.

“You’re not actually thinking,” Sicheng started to say, growing very concerned when Jaehyun stopped in front of a store display, “of buying that giant and, honestly, kind of creepy teddy bear?”

Jaehyun hadn’t even bought it yet and he already felt offended. “How is it creepy? It’s a bear.”

“It’s giant,” Sicheng repeated. “Where would she even put it?”

Sicheng, clearly, already knew that every impulsive purchase Jaehyun ever made, had been for you. He did that so he could see the joy on your face when you unwrapped the gift. You’d tell him he didn’t have to do this, that he was wasting his money, but it never really felt like a waste of money when he saw you smile or heard you laugh.

“She has enough space next to her dresser in the bedroom,” Jaehyun replied, his mind already made up. “Or in the balcony, as a worst-case scenario.”

“That thing,” Sicheng said, the distaste for the huge stuffed toy evident in his voice, “needs a room of its’ own. Maybe it’d be good to stop and think before you buy things for no reason.”

Jaehyun—an absolute fool in love—declared on the steps of the toy store, “I’m not buying this for no reason. I’m buying this for my girl.”

Sicheng took a step back as if whatever Jaehyun had was contagious.

“Well, I’ve just cringed into the next year,” he informed the other boy, “so maybe I’ll just wait for you outside.”

“Suit yourself,” Jaehyun replied, not bothered one bit. He could already imagine the look on your face when he showed up on your doorstep with a 6-foot-tall teddy bear. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to the other member, “hey, do not text her while you wait. Don’t ruin the surprise.”

Sicheng scoffed. “The bear will be what ruins the surprise.”

Ignoring that, Jaehyun finally opened the door and the sweet, sugary scent of candy from inside of the store engulfed them both. Sicheng found that somewhat threatening, like someone trying to conceal that they tortured children in there. But Jaehyun, of course, found the smell inviting.

“I’ll be right out,” he said, a soft, dazed smile on his face, while Sicheng shook his head and seriously considered sending you a warning text so you could prepare before your boyfriend brought this monstrosity home.

↣ winwin

He had one flaw only, and that was the way he chose to let people know that he loved them: by buying them luxurious gifts.

You may have grown used to his expensive taste when it came to choosing a restaurant for your date nights, but the gifts he got you were something you would never get used to. Especially since he didn’t even need a reason to get you something.

Sicheng had prepared a surprise for you tonight as well – a dark blue velvet box lied on the table between you. He had to open it for you because you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. And as soon as he lifted the cover, you saw a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet inside, the zirconia catching every light of the restaurant.

“Sicheng…” you said, the sound of his name fading off on your tongue. You couldn’t come up with anything else to say as your eyes traced the impressive crystals on the bracelet.

Worried all of a sudden, Sicheng asked, “you don’t like it?”

“I like it,” you said, but your voice lacked conviction, worrying him further. You tried to explain, “but it’s just—I don’t know how—where I would wear it. It’s so expensive.”

“You’d wear it everywhere,” he said, lifting his own wrist to reveal an identical bracelet glittering on it. “I have one just like this.”

“You—oh,” you looked down to the bracelet inside of the box again.

Sicheng waited for you to say something else, but a minute later, his impatience won.

“Can I put it on for you?” he asked, his eyes letting you know that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Hmm,” you considered your—non-existent—options for a moment and then gave him a small nod. “Please.”

It was awkward at first, but as soon as you felt his fingers on your skin as he lifted your hand to wrap the bracelet around it, you began to relax. His own wrist glistened underneath the lights as he clasped a twin bracelet on your hand.

“There,” he said then, smiling. He let his hand rest next to yours, the diamonds on your wrists so bright, it was nearly blinding now that the bracelets were next to each other.

Biting your lip, you felt it very important to remind him, “you know I love you even without the matching jewelry.”

“I know,” Sicheng said, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. “But I thought we’d look really good with these. And we do, don’t we?”

Laughing – and, thus, finally giving his heart the permission to calm down a little – you had to nod and agree, “we really do.”

↣ jungwoo

For no reason whatsoever, he’d made it his life’s mission to always give you the most extraordinary (read: weirdest) gifts possible. You already had several pillows with pictures of Jungwoo making a very exaggerated kissing face, on your bed – it’d been part of the Christmas gift he’d gotten you last year. You laughed for a good five minutes when you saw them.

Keeping the tradition strong, Jungwoo showed up to your second anniversary dinner with a big heart-shaped cardboard box. You were already confused even before you opened it, but even more so when you saw what was inside.

There were at least two dozen small black metal containers squeezed in there, the heart-shaped form of the box making it difficult for them all to fit.

“What’s this?” you asked, but Jungwoo did not reply, waiting, instead, until you got one of the containers out.

And you did, but you weren’t quite sure what you were looking at. The labels on them were confusing: “Heartache Tea” or “The Taste of Sleep”, or, simply, “Summer in Tokyo”.

“That’s… those are tea samplers?” you guessed.

Jungwoo nodded. “Smell them.”

Carefully, you opened one of the boxes – the one labeled “Tea in Seoul” – and blinked in surprise when the minty scent of the herbs consumed your senses. You considered what the smell reminded you of for a second, but decided to open another box – “Jungwoo’s Special Brew” – before you came to any conclusions.

This time, you were sure the contents smelled like green tea. When you brought the box closer to your nose, you could also sense a hint of lemon and honey.

And you had to sit down immediately.

Peppermint tea with milk was the first tea you’d shared with Jungwoo – it had been your second or third date, early December, and you’d been freezing after having walked around the city earlier. And green tea with just a spoonful of lemon juice and honey had been the tea he’d made you every day for two weeks straight, after you developed a frustrating cold last fall.

“This is—these are the flavors of the teas we’ve had together,” you concluded finally.

Jungwoo nodded again, a small smile on his face now that you figured it out.

In utter disbelief that he’d remember each and every flavor of the tea that you’d had together over the years, you shook your head and placed your palms on your warm cheeks.

“You’re the only one in the whole world,” you told him, “who would ever think of getting me something like this.”

“That’s good!” he responded, proud. “I’m guessing it would be very uncomfortable if there was someone else like me out there.”

↣ mark

He’d never gotten a chance to try out the most cliché things in relationships until he met you, so you were stuck – in the best possible way – opening your door on Valentine’s Day, to reveal Mark standing there, flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates in hand.

“Hi,” he said, a bright smile on his face. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He’d extended the gifts for you to take, and then did not actually let go of them until you kissed him. Laughing, because this may have just been the sappiest thing you’ve ever taken part in, you pressed a kiss to his lips and took the flowers and the chocolates from him.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked. “I should put these in some water before we leave.”

Considering if that’d be appropriate for a moment, Mark decided, “uh, sure, yeah. But let’s hurry, I have important plans for us today.”

And he really didn’t lie when he said that, because as soon as you left your apartment, he took you out for dinner – always behaving like the perfect gentleman and making all the grandmas in sight watch you two with nostalgic smiles – and then, packing the desserts to go, he brought you down to the river.

You assumed he’d planned this in advance too, because there wasn’t a single other person on the riverside when you two arrived, and there was a blanket – it was rather chilly now, the moon high up in the sky – resting on the bench.

Smiling, you sat down and allowed Mark to throw the blanket over both of your legs as he took a seat next to you on the bench. He unwrapped the cardboard box you’d brought from the restaurant, folded it underneath the cake and placed it on his knees, passing you one of the plastic forks afterwards.

“We’re having cake,” you said after taking a bite of the sweet delicacy, “underneath the stars.”

“We are,” Mark said, very happy about it. “It’s Valentine’s Day. We’re supposed to do cheesy things.”

You laughed. “I’m just glad to be with you. We’re not supposed to do anything.”

“Well, don’t worry about that,” he replied, slicing off another piece of cake with his plastic fork and making you laugh when he brought it to your lips, waiting until you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed you. Then, he informed you, “I have our Valentine’s Days planned at least five years in advance.”

↣ haechan

When he brought you flowers before your date, you didn’t find that very surprising. It was pleasant, of course, but Donghyuck always gave you flowers if you hadn’t gone on a date in a while. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do, and he always appreciated how happy they made you feel.

“Those are beautiful,” you said, admiring the arrangement of various different wildflowers he’d given you. “Where did you even get a bouquet like this?”

Never in a million years did you expect him to say, “I picked the flowers myself.”

You even stopped walking for a second, very surprised. It was hard to believe that people still picked wildflowers nowadays – and even gifted them to their loved ones.

“Y-you—you picked them?” you repeated lamely, needing a minute to grasp this. “For me?”

Donghyuck only shrugged. “My grandma lives near this grassy hill. I was visiting her this morning, and I knew that there are a lot of flowers down there. I—well, I wanted to get you some, so I went out to look for them. Sorry if it’s not much, I—”

You cut him off, “No! This is—it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Donghyuck nodded – avoiding your eyes to prevent his face from getting any warmer – and allowed you to take his hand and intertwine your fingers.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said after a moment. “Next time, you can come with me to meet my grandma, and then you can pick the flowers you like best yourself.”

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heartfulofsighs · 3 years ago

Text

Nice Things…

Hello All! Coming back with little writings here and there as my inspiration comes along. A little episode inside of the Something to do with Jackson sphere (1, 2)

Let me know what you think! @negrowhat you know I gotta tag you in everything lol

Jackson decides you both are in need of a little rest and relaxation. Nothing is better then a nice beach house complete with a gigantic bath tub.

About 4k words; Warnings: Very light smut like its super light, but I’m obligated to say it includes fingering a praise kink and a bathtub.

Laundry shouldn’t be difficult. Well in retrospect it wasn’t difficult at your old apartment. The laundry room there was stocked with 5 very old very worn washing and drying machines. They were faithful and predictable. They only had about 3 options and 2 dials. Simplicity at its best. You missed them every time you had a load to wash and dry. You had been living in Jackson’s apartment for months and you still couldn’t figure out his machines. For one thing they were sleek and black, very modern, apparently super efficient. They worked via a touch screen and the breath of options that appeared every time you fired them up made you nervous. Twice you had shrunk a favorite article of clothing. You had also ruined your running shoes, the washing machine seemed incredibly aggressive to you. But today was going to be different. This was your only task. You could do this. The touch screen lit up, you took a breath, the beeping started and an array of options appeared. Water temperatures, agitation speeds, your finger hovered over the first option- “BABY, THIS IS WHERE YOU WERE!?” Jackson’s voice boomed in the laundry room. You turned, frantic that all his noise would upset whatever fragile understanding you had. “Jackson!” You hissed, “shush!”

His hands snapped to cover his mouth. He looked around his brows knitted, “what’s going on?” He whispered. “I’ just,” you turned back to the machine but you didn’t feel the same confidence, “I’m trying to figure out your stupid space aged washing machine.” You confessed, “everytime I put something in here I ruin it.” “Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.” He walked up behind you and looked down at the same screen. “Baby?” He began slowly, he touched the screen flicking left twice until he got to a place that said ‘presets’. “Why don’t you just use these instead of trying to pick through all those other settings? This is what I use.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered softly. There were easy to understand presets displayed proudly. “You didn’t know about these?” He asked, “I could have sworn I showed you the last time you shrunk your sweater?” You rubbed your face in continued disbelief. All this time. “The dryer has presets too, did I show you those?” He kept talking because of course to him this wasn’t a big deal. You had made it one, once again, something tiny had become huge to you. “You want me to help you with your laundry? Since I’m home today I wanna spend it with you ok?” When you took your hands away from your face he was beaming like the sun at you. You wondered how he could look so worry free. His job was so stressful, he barely got time for himself or you yet he was always beaming. You wanted to be a bit more like him. Just enough so that inanimate objects stopped irritating you for no reason. “If you want to help sure, but this stuff is kinda boring. You sure you don’t want to nap? Or I could make you something to eat?” You offered. “We can do that after, this won’t take long.” He pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. You selected the ‘delicates’ option since you wanted to wash your undies and bras first. “Ok, delicates first then.” You looked in his direction expectantly. The two baskets of laundry were already separated. “Just pass me the stuff in the blue basket.” You instructed, “I’ll do them first.” He dutifully began to hand you clothes. Some things he stopped to look at. “When did you get this bra?” He asked holding up a flowery bra that you had bought a few weeks ago. “Like two weeks ago?” You guessed, maybe three. Your hand was outstretched waiting for it. “Oh,” was all he said before he handed it over, “I haven’t see you wear it.” He said softer. “Well, it’s a bra Jackson…” You tried. He handed you a few pairs of underwear which you put in. He was a touch less cheerful as you finished loading. He helped with the detergent and softner before he got the machine started. “I feel so dumb,” when you turned to him he frowned. “I really wish I had remembered about the presets. I’ve been having a battle with this machine since I got here.” You confessed. “Baby...I really don’t think it’s a big deal.” He leaned down and pecked you. “You can ask me questions you know? Before you make a mountain out of a molehill.” “But I’m so good at that.” You pointed out. He kissed you again. His hands trailing down your arms. When you pulled away he pouted. “Let me at least finish the chores, I have a few things more I wanna clean.” You complained. He accepted this and let you go, “I’m gonna have two weeks off...do you have a lot of work?” He asked. It took you a moment to think about what you had to do, some things could wait and really only one required you to finish immediately. “I just have to finish one job then I think I can take some time off.” You stretched and looked at him with curiosity. “What did you want to do?” He pushed some of your hair behind your ear, “can we go on vacation?” “Where did you want to go?” You spoke as you tied your hair up. “Someplace warm?” You asked. He nodded, “an island!” It seemed like a solid idea. You thought it over, Jackson in his usual fashion grew impatient. He tapped his feet and poked out his lip, “we can have a private beach house…” He edged closer. “That sounds...isn’t that a little extravagant?” You often wondered when you would be able to accept Jackson’s penchant for spending on you. There was something that always made you cringe. “I don’t want you to spend too much-” He frowned and you snapped your mouth closed, “you deserve…” He began. You sighed, “nice things.” He accepted you finishing his sentence quietly before he went back to trying to convince you. “It’ll be private...no cameras...just you and me.” He had basically backed you against the machine. He leaned forward and set his hands on it, caging you in. You couldn’t look away. “We live together but I always miss you,” he kissed you and it was mostly soft. “I’m gone a lot and I feel horrible about it,” he kissed you again nibbling on your bottom lip. “Do you miss me when I’m not here?” “Like crazy.” You whispered. His eyes were on yours, pupils wide. His breathing picked up as you snaked your arms around his neck. “So let me take you to the beach, let’s spend a week....please.” His kiss was less soft more insistent. He pushed until your back was pressed to the machine, the hum seemed to burn through your blood. You kissed him back, hands gripping the hair on the nap of his neck. The time apart always made the time together feel like a single point in the universe. There wasn’t a whole apartment, a whole city, there was just you and Jackson. Starved for each other, hungry to touch and feel. He was so good at making you melt, so good at making you desperate for him. You tasted him and whimpered. The beach was suddenly a fantastic idea, more time alone for more of this. He ground against you and his moan made your knees weak. “Ok,” you managed to say against his lips. He pulled away and beamed at you. The unmistakable look of getting his way. “So we’ll go the day after tomorrow...I actually may have set it up already.” “Jackson.”

You had never been swept away before. In past relationships you had lacked the time and your partners seemed to lack the motivation. It hadn’t bothered you truly because how can you miss something you didn’t have to begin with? You thought about it as you packed and he buzzed around the room with excitement. “Don’t forget bathing suites!” He warned, “and sunscreen!” “I have both.” You answered slowly, “and something nice for dinner...right?” When you looked up he was zipping his bag up. “Yes, and then...not much else…” He raised his eyebrows quickly suggestively and you giggled. He stopped to touch his hand to your leg, “I love you in anything.” “If it was up to you, I’d just walk around naked all the time.” You said slowly. He considered this then said, “only if you want.” Then he was moving again, his energy nervous all throughout the room. “Are you almost done?” He asked. “The car will be here soon.” You just needed to decide on your one nice outfit. It had been a while since you had really gone out. He had seen you in just about everything you owned...except.... At the back of your closet you had hung a tropical print skirt and top set. It was out of your comfort zone but the print would really work. “Hurry hurry baby.” He chided. You had just enough time to grab it from the closet and stuff it into your bag. He took your hand and led you. The smile on his face relaxed yet you could feel the excitement bubbling out of him. He kissed you in the elevator before the doors opened, then led you to the long black car idling at the apartment building’s entrance. He opened the door for you and waited till you were settled before he put the bags in the trunk and got in next to you. Then his hand was back in yours like it belonged there. “Do you think you’ll get recognized at the airport?” You tried your best not to sound nervous but the thought of screaming fans made your stomach heavy. “I don’t think so, we’ll be in then out.” He brought your linked hands up for a kiss. “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine.” You settled into the seat and tried your best not to worry. The media in a way wasn’t very interested in you and Jackson’s story anymore. When they did happen to catch photos of you two together it wasn’t big news but most of the comments were still pretty awful. It was better for your mental health to not read them but every so often you saw yourself online and couldn’t stop yourself from looking. The general take was that you were literally a weight dragging him down. It never seemed like a good idea to comment back, better to just read it all in silence, and really it wasn’t all bad. There was a spattering of people who liked you. Who said nice things and said they were cheering on the relationship. People who pointed out that Jackson was happier with you in his life. You weren’t sure if you would give yourself that much credit but you hoped that he felt how you did. He leaned over, “what are you thinking about so hard?” He planted a kiss on your cheek startling you out of your own head. He had a way of knowing when you were thinking yourself down a rabbit hole. He redirected you gently and patiently. His hand squeezed yours again. “Nothing, just the work I left...hopefully I did enough.” You said. He knew it wasn’t that, but he didn’t push.. He kissed you on the cheek again, “don’t worry about it, just try your best to relax.” He whispered. It took you a moment of second guessing, but there was no real use in fighting with Jackson. Especially since you actually did need a relaxing vacation. There would be no worries on the beach, that’s all you had to tell yourself over and over and over again.

There weren’t any cameras, no reporters, no mobs of fans. He had his mask pulled up and dark sunglasses on. You were wearing one of his caps and your own mask pulled up. The two of you looked like any couple on their way to a romantic trip. He only let go of you to pass through security. Once his hand was out of yours there were new worries. An airplane. The last time you had flown you were forced between a grumpy office worker and a woman who seemed to have bathed in perfume. You remember distinctly how the office worker had complained about her perfume and how she called him lonely and sad. It had been for the most part very unpleasant. Suddenly all you could think about were all your worse flights. You fumbled through security, including the awkward second search. Taking his hand on the other side calmed you down a little bit. “You’re making a mountain again.” He said into your ear. “I can’t remember ever having a good flight,” you squeezed his hand and almost missed a step. “Every flight that lands safely is a good flight baby.” He chimed happily and just like that you relaxed a bit. He was right of course. Bad seatmates didn’t make a bad flight. Small things didn’t have to be big. Once again you tried to calm yourself, to convince yourself that you were on vacation. You were being swept away and it would be great if all your extra thoughts could be swept away too.

“This is the house?” After a flight you slept through, and an ok trip through the airport that involved a car rental associate who was star struck, here the two of you were. The house was directly on the beach. From the outside it didn’t look like much which made you feel a bit better. If he had rented a beach mansion or something along those lines you would have worried the whole trip about how much all of it had cost and...and if you were really worth all the trouble. But this,...this was so quaint and so cozy. “This is it.” He pulled into the driveway and then put the car into park. You got out admiring the house’s slightly cracked white paint, the green ivy underneath the two small windows on either side of the weathered wooden door. The waves sounded incredibly close and you guessed the beach was literally right in your backyard. Jackson was behind you with your bags. “Here,” when you turned he was holding the key towards you all smiles, “open her up.” He instructed. The key got stuck for a moment in the lock. You panicked per usual but it gave when you pushed your shoulder against the heavy wood. “Be careful,” he clucked his tongue at you but you ignored him. You were stuck looking at the inside. Everything was so bright. You sucked in a breath because of all the light. There were huge skylights all throughout. The entryway was neat, a small blue weathered table held a bowl where Jackson dropped the car keys. He pressed his hand to the small of your back and your feet automatically started to shuffle step forward. The entryway opened into a small kitchen with white tile and teal cabinets. The appliances didn’t look new aged or terrifying like Jackson’s. The big white well loved looking stove was comforting. Through the kitchen There was an open airy dinning room and living room. The living room ended in two gigantic glass doors that opened onto a hedge enclosed patio. The bricks were weathered but still a good red. There was a round picnic table with a few shelves, a rack with two surfboards, and what looked like a hot tub. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, “let’s look at the bedroom.” It was through a doorway off the kitchen, past a half bathroom. The bedroom suite seemed to be all windows. There were three huge windows with breezy white curtains. The bed was gigantic four poster deal, piled high with pillows at the head. The comforter was white like everything else. “There’s one of those clawfoot tubs,” He led you a little further in, towards the doorway of the bathroom. The tub was huge. There was a shower head on the wall above it. Another two windows, more light. “This place is beautiful.” You finally got out. He squeezed your hand, “I know you like simple things and I thought this place would be nice. The beach is right down a back path and-” You tipped your chin up lips pursed asking for him to dip and kiss you. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” you spoke against his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “You’re welcome.” His smile was triumphant. He only let you go to help unpack but beamed the entire time like a happy child. You knew this look, his eyes were centered on yours. He licked his lips before he kissed you. “I picked this house because it’s cozy and…” He trailed off to kiss you again. “And?” “And you never wanna have fun in my bathtub so I made sure that this house had one that was so big you couldn’t argue with me about soaking together.” He explained. “Jackson.” He beamed again his face back to innocence, “don’t you want to soak with me?” He asked. “You don’t just want to soak,” you pointed out. He shrugged, “humor me.” In truth he had begged to soak with you plenty of times but the tub in his apartment made you nervous. You had this vision of the two of you settling in and getting stuck or getting in and overflowing the tub in an embarrassing splash. Well maybe it wouldn’t be embarrassing to him but in your mind it was motifying. You bit your bottom lip and considered the big claw foot tub in the house again. “I guess there’s no harm in a nice soak.” You said softly. He could barely contain his excitement, he moved deliberately trailing his hands down your waist then squeezing. He searched your face before he broke out into a grin that made you laugh. “Jackson,” it was hard not to laugh at him. “Jackson right now? You don’t want to eat first?” He cocked his head, “I do, but let’s do that later, my back hurts from the flight.” You made a ‘sure’ face but didn’t argue. It was better to humor him, he gave your bottom another not so gentle squeeze before kissing the top of your head. “So a nice bath, then I’ll make you food,...” he trailed off and took your hand.

The fragrance from the bubble bath he found was making your head feel dreamy and relaxed. His back was against one side of the tub and yours was on the other. He insisted on massaging your feet and there really wasn’t any huge point to arguing. He rubbed away while you sighed slowly to yourself. “You have the cutest little feet.” He murmured. “They’re so gross.” Your response was automatic, years of having being told they were flawed in some way meant that you were use to parroting back the words when you were complimented. “They’re perfect on you.” He dug deep into the sole of your foot and you couldn’t help but groan. “Always say nice things about yourself.” He murmured. “Yeah I know.” You sunk lower into the water and he took the invitation to work his hands up your leg. It was hard for you to say nice things about yourself all the time. You were use to your self deprecating jokes. But he was quick to redirect them, he always told you to make it nice instead. His hands were steady on your body focusing your mind back into the moment. It was never gonna be just a soak, but you didn’t do anything to stop him. He felt the back of your knee and a shiver ran up your body. His eyes were focused on your skin, “you’ll let me do this at home now right?” He pulled himself a little closer so his hands could go further up, “a nice hot bath, foot massages.” “You’re very good at them,” your voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes seemed to darken. He leaned farther forward, upsetting the water and bubbles so he could kiss your forehead. Under the water his hand had made it all the way up which meant his fingers were in a prime position to rub you where you were most sensitive. He kept the pressure light, teasing you. A whine broke past your lips. He ducked his head and kissed you. “I want you to relax,” he said softly against your lips, he dipped his fingers inside of you. It was so hard not to squirm, he pulled them back and forth slowly before he stopped. You gripped the sides of the the tub and tried to urge him to move. His eyes were mischievous. “Jackson,” You tried to roll your hips to get him to do anything but tease you. He cocked his head, “say something nice about yourself.” The command confused you. Your brow furrowed and for a moment you were confused, “what?” He pulled his hand completely away and touched your face instead. “I read that it’s nice to hear compliments from others but reinforcing it with words you say to yourself is even better.” His voice was earnest his hand dipped into the water again and found your breast. “Something nice…” He played with your nipple and you whimpered. Your mind was reaching for something, any sort of compliment that would make sense. “I like my thighs.” He beamed, triumphant, then pinched your nipple lightly, “what else baby? You’re so beautiful there’s a million things to compliment.” You were so use to his praise that it was hard to give yourself the same attention. He switched to your other nipple and kissed your forehead again. “One more.” He encouraged. You swallowed, his hands sending pleasure and want all throughout your body. You willed your brain and your mouth to talk, to say something so he would give you what you needed. “I have nice skin...the cream you gave me makes it so soft.” You admitted. He liked that, he kissed you harder. He had both hands involved now, tickling the sides of your tummy. The giggle that escaped your mouth made his smile even wider. “The most perfect skin.” He spent the rest of the bath praising you. Cooing all his favorite compliments while he played with your body. It didn’t take long before your hands gripped the side of the tub and you called his name. Your body locked and then the pleasure ripped through your limbs in what felt like a blaze. Dimly you knew you had splashed water and maybe that would have embarrassed you, but there were more important things. Like the way you still shook while he kissed you everywhere he could reach. If you felt dreamy before your mind was downright foggy now. “You liked that baby?” He asked, finally pulling away to look at you. Your bones felt like jelly, thank god the tub wasn’t too deep. There was no doubt in your mind you would have melted further into the water. It took you what felt like hours to barely nod your head and indicate that yes you had indeed liked it. “It’s so cute when you say my name like that.” he went back to sitting across the tub from you, a smug smile on his face. You didn’t know what face you were making but hopefully it was satisfied. “Let’s just spend the rest of the time here.” You finally got out. He didn’t argue with you, just rested his head on the rim of the tub, “as long as you’re happy that’s all I care about.” You sat up a little, “I’m the happiest I’ve been in forever.” “Perfect.” He spoke softly and maybe it was more to himself than you but he was right. The feeling was perfect.

#jackson wang #team wang #got7 jackson wang #jackson wang smut #jackson wang fanfic #jackson takes you on vacay #and it was magical times #tub time #who doesnt love a good soak #kpop fanfic #something to do with jackson universe #say nice things to yourself

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hacked-by-jake · 3 years ago

Note

Hi yes hello I just got away from someone who I think was stalking me and I am freaking out and know I will continue freaking out for several days. Would you kindly write something where MC is in the same situation and Jake helps them in some way? He doesn't have to physically show up if it doesn't make sense storywise he can just talk to MC and tell them to go someplace public or whatever and help keep them calm. I don't know. Thank you.

Take you home.

>Part 2

Summary: Jake helps you when you’re being followed by a stranger on your way home at night.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: MC is being persecuted and the person has no good intentions / Light swearing.

⚠️A/n: Okay, first of all, I’m really sorry you had to experience this. I very much hope that you are well / that you are better and everything is okay. If you want to talk to someone you don’t know, feel free to write to me.❤️

>>So, then, of course, please take all care of yourselves! Be careful and when you get into a situation like this, find someone who can help you quickly. People on the street, ring a bell even if you don’t know who lives there. Ask for help and draw attention to yourself. If you are alone, there are almost now numbers everywhere you can call if you happen to be on your way home or wherever. Save this number to your phone and get help there. Or call the police, even if it seems exaggerated to you, but at such moments it is not exaggerated.<<

To the Story: I started writing this but realized in the way I wrote it that I didn’t feel good about it. So I decided to write another alternative. Alternative 1. I have left both alternatives there, it is marked. The beginning and the end of the story are for both alternatives. However, Alternative 2 is a little more fictional, while Alternative 1 is a little more serious (if I can say so). I just felt Alternative 2 wasn’t serious enough for this really serious subject. Nevertheless, I left alternative 2 inside to maybe / hopefully leave a little bit more good (more cute etc.) feeling.

So, and at least: In this story, the perpetrator is a man. But I would like to point out that it is not only men who do this. This can happen to all genders and all gender can be perpetrators!

Now, I hope you will like it and I can help you a little bit with it or that it will calm you down a little. Thank you for your request and always be careful. Stay healthy.

Sorry about the mistakes.

"See you tomorrow" you call laughing and wave goodbye to the others once again. You put both hands deep into the pockets of your jacket and make your way home in a good mood. You and the others have all spent a nice evening in the Aurora. Actually, the others wanted to drive you home but you said that the fresh air will do you good because it is always very warm and stuffy in the bar. "Good night, MC" says a friend of Phil who is coming toward you and only now enters the bar. "Bye" you smile.

You breathe deep in the fresh night air, which is more than good for your body and your mind. You close your eyes and enjoy the silence for a moment. Nothing can be heard far and wide. No cars, no people, not even ravens crowing. A beautiful and clear night in Duskwood.

Your way home is fortunately not so far. From the Aurora about 15 to 20 minutes walk. Quietly you mumble your favorite song and whistle the music in some places. Until you see a black shadow across the street.

You turn your gaze there and see a man, dressed in dark, looking around. His eyes are flashing in the light of the street lights and you quickly turn your gaze away again. From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s moving across the street to yours. You’re twisting your eyes, not pleased. Of course, you don’t want to say right away that this man is a bit weird just because he changes sides of the road but nevertheless you have a queasy feeling. It’s no secret you have to be careful.

Just for your own safety and to calm your mind, you turn left on the next street. It is not really a shortcut, the way remains the same, but enough to avoid him. But when you notice the quiet steps behind you also turn into the alley, you become really uncomfortable. You are getting closer to your apartment and thus to the edge of the forest.

Not many people live here anymore. After Hannah was found and the case solved, many people moved away from here and when you moved to Duskwood, you found your apartment in the edge of the forest.

Since there are really not many people living here, you also know that the probability that the man has to go exactly this way is low. You try inconspicuously, turn your head backwards to look over your shoulder. It seems to you that the man has accelerated his steps, which automatically makes you run a little faster too. Of course he notices your look.

"Wait a minute," he calls and your heart stops for some knockers. Quickly you look straight again. Speed up your pace again. Don’t want to get panicked and hectic, yet you can’t resist your mind that immediately tells you 'run' "You don’t have to be afraid," he shouts behind you. A goose bump spreads on your body and a wheeze leaves your lips.

Your mind goes crazy and your body immediately enters survival mode. You’re starting to go faster, panicking of the strange man.

You thought Duskwood left those dark days behind.

"You don’t have to run away!" he calls again and you tighten your jaw muscle. It’ll still take a little to get to your apartment. Again you look back, see that the man has come even closer, also runs very fast. The houses and apartments around you are all dark, people are sleeping, no one would wake up. And then you get the idea.

Jake, the only one of the others who lives near you is Jake.

When he moved here, he moved into an apartment about four blocks from you. Further downtown, it has become difficult to find anything. You pull your phone out of your pocket and open the phone immediately. You always have Jake on speed dial, so you can call right away. Afraid, you press the phone against your ear. Your other hand wraps tightly around the pepper spray you own since there was the Man Without a Face.

'Pick up, pick up, pick up'

"I just want to talk to you!" calls the creepy man from behind and this time you can not hold back and the first sob leaves your lips.

"Hello, MC?" you hear Jake’s astonished voice. Of course, he doesn’t expect you to call him at 2:00 a.m. "Help me" you whisper quietly, your voice is a squeak, panicked, anxious, desperate. "What’s going on?" Jake immediately sounds alarmed. Immediately notice that the situation is serious. "A man has been following me since the Aurora, he wants me to stop," with deep sobbing you explain the situation. "How much distance is between you?" Jake asks calmly. "About 7 or 8 meters, but every time I run faster, he runs faster too!" you answer. You hear loud rustling from Jake. "Okay, MC, you just have to stay calm, don’t hang up, I’m already on my way" You agree, mumbling. "It won’t be long before I’m with you," insured, and you hear fast paces echoing through the phone.

"Stay now!" the man shouts loudly and you flinch. He sounds much more aggressive than he just did, impatient and annoyed.

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

>>Alternative 1

"Hurry up, please," you beg Jake.

"Stay calm, okay, MC? Put me on speaker" he orders and tries to keep his voice relatively quiet so as not to make you more nervous.

You do what he says and unlike what you expected, he makes a request for a video call. You take the call and put it on speaker.

His face appears and you immediately feel a little more safe. You keep the phone further away from your face so that the man behind you can also see that at least someone is there who can see you." I’ve got your location, I’m on my way to you. It’s only two streets away," Jake says aloud, briefly holding a second phone in front of the camera where your location is displayed. Even if your pursuer may not be able to see it, the gesture counts.

Carefully you turn back and take a look again. For your joy, his steps have already slowed down and a little more distance is between you.

"I don’t need a minute until I’m with you, MC," Jake informs you and you nod relieved. You wipe the tears from the cheeks that have calmed down a bit and breathes trembling deeply before you look behind you again.

The man changes sides of the road.

"It works" you breathe and nod wildly with your head, in relief.

You see the man walking the other way, in the opposite direction of you. He has given up, seems to have noticed that you're safe now.

"Stay there," demands Jake, "I can see you," he informs you, and you look to the right, into the street next to you. In fact, you see the hacker running towards you, but now also slowing down his steps.

"Oh God," you croak relieved, lowers your phone and run towards him. From afar he stretches out his arms and you throw yourself into his embrace. <<

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

>>Alternative 2

"Hurry up," you plead. You’re accelerating your steps more and more. Jake answers something, his voice is blurry, choppy and distorted.

Quickly you look at your screen. No signal. Your phone has no signal. It’s a dead zone.

You hear as Jake asks about you, also difficult to recognize. The first tears run down your cheek and burn into your skin.

Slowly everything starts to turn, from the panic in you. It all feels blurry, imaginary and not real. But unfortunately it is real. "Shit!" you hiss as your screen turns black. Jake has to hurry!

"Stop!" the man calls again and suddenly you hear firm and fast steps behind you. Without looking, you know he start running. And without hesitation you start running as well. It feels like there’s a loud sough in your ears, like an old radio is losing the signal.

Your surroundings become blurred, out of focus and you feel as if everything is pulsating around you. The houses are getting closer, it feels like it’s getting darker around you, It’s like the sky is getting even blacker. And the only thing booming in your head is 'run, run for your life' You can’t prevent a weepy whining from coming out of your mouth followed by a loud sob. You try to blink the tears in your eyes away to see something but it doesn’t work. The more you try, the worse it gets.

Your lungs are starting to burn. Stitches in your sides make this run unbearable. You lift your legs higher while running to reduce the risk of stumbling. Just focus on running and breathing. The steps behind you are not to be heard, like this mute everything feels. "MC" you hear it calling from somewhere, can not arrange the voice, your mind imagines that your persecutor knows your name. But then, suddenly, you see, out of the alley next to you, an arm coming out fast. He’s reaching for your upper arm. It’s so fast, you don’t even have time to scream. You get ripped around and hit against a back hard.

In the first moment you want to fight back, defend yourself, to kick around you but you quickly recognize the voice as Jake’s when he says "I’m here, MC, everything is good". Full of pure relief, you wrap your arms around him from behind, "Thanks God" you sigh and press your face into the soft material of his sweater. Jake’s hand reaches for yours and puts it on it calmly as he builds up tall in front of the man. You don’t want to look at this guy, you don’t want him to see you.

"Can I help you?" Jake asks in a deep and dangerous-sounding voice. You never thought he could speak like that, so angry that his voice is almost shaking. You hear how the other man’s steps have finally stopped, "No, everything is fine," he grumbles.

"Then fuck off now" Jakes hisses aggressively and takes a step forward. You will be pulled along and wrap your arms even more tighter around him.

"It’s all right, man," the other one grumbles and really seems to turn around to leave. Jake doesn’t move a bit, his whole body is tense, he is under high tension, you feel how tense his muscles are. Feel how trembling his breath escapes.

When your persecutor finally disappeared, Jake takes your arms off his belly and turns around. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tightly against his body. Your mind finally realizes that you don’t need to be afraid anymore, you start crying again, but this time out of relief and happiness.<<

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

You start crying hard, crying against his chest, his arms holding you tight, protective.

"It’s all good, MC," he whispers, and his voice sounds like he’s about to cry too. You’re pressing so tight and close against him that you’re afraid you might crush him, but you have no control over it. And he doesn’t seem to mind.

"It’s all good, MC, I’m here now, you’re safe, I take care of you. He can’t hurt you anymore, and he’ll never be able to hurt you," he whispers, pressing his lips on your forehead.

"You’re safe," he keeps confirming that everything’s okay now. Does not let go, holds you and gives you stability and safety.

"Thank you" you whimper and bury your hands in the fabric of his sweater.

"Don’t thank me, there’s no reason to thank me, everything is fine," he easily walks away from you to look at you. Lovingly and carefully he puts his hands on your cheeks to wipe the tears from your cheek with his thumbs.

"You’re safe, okay? I’m here"

You nod, try to calm down and stop your tears." You’re coming with me, all right? You’re sleeping in my apartment today. You don’t have to be alone right now. And you can stay as long as you want," he suggests, and You exhale with relief, glad you don’t have to be alone.

"Thank you" you croak again and again he kisses you lightly on the forehead.

"Shall we go?" he asks cautiously and you agree.

Jake takes your hand into his, and slowly you start on the path that luckily is not far.

"You never walk home alone again, all right? You can always call me and I’ll pick you up. And if you want to walk, then I’ll come and we’ll go home together"

You don’t contradict him, you’re happy about it. Never want to walk alone again.

"I got his data from his cell phone, and we know who he is. Tomorrow we’ll see what we can do," he tells you, and you try to smile a bit.

When you two gets home, he picks out some of his clothes for you, a shorts and a T-shirt. You take a warm and soothing shower while he makes you a cup of tea.

Together you lie down, he holds his arms open for you and holds you tight and takes care of you until you fall asleep.

🌹🎭❤️

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood Jake x mc #everbyte #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood hacker #iamjake

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libraford · 3 years ago

Text

Okay, internet. I have questions about a potential business opportunity.

Some background, first.

My photography mentor wants to focus more on boudoir photography, glamor shoots, fantasy shoots, cosplay shoots, things like that. Typically, for a boudoir shoot, she rents a hotel for a night, only ends up using it for a few hours. This can be a big overhead cost and even fancy hotels... look like hotels in the photos.

Recently, we've found a few studios outside of town that will rent you a done-up room by the hour. All different styles of rooms, props, aesthetics.

There is only one in our city that does this and it's very... beige. We are not a beige people. We think we can do better and we'd like to start a business- renting out someplace in town that can fit multiple rooms (we know this is expensive, she's a whiz at writing grants) for fantasy and boudoir photography.

Here are my questions.

What does a typical day in this business look like? Do you have someone there all the time or do you only go in when there's a shoot? And in that circumstance, did you need security on the premises?

What are some problems you run into with owning a space like this? (Cost of rent, obviously, but things like groundskeeping, utilities, anything oddball like that.) What are some housekeeping problems to consider for a business like this?

We understand that the studio itself may not be lucrative. We've had thoughts about opening the front end as an art gallery, which may also have its own struggles. What kinds of challenges come with running a creators space like that? Are there any other business additions that might be more successful?

I had an idea for having like... a free spot that just has flat backdrops for selfies and I was wondering if this is actually a good idea or am I just hung up on free publicity?

What is a situation with this business model that you can see ending poorly? What are some warning signs to look for?

At this point, we're just spitballing ideas and getting the groundwork in. We haven't committed to anything yet and we might abandon this idea if it looks like a failure. But with as popular as she is as a photographer (she's booked solid through December and she's just working out of her house right now) I'm feeling kind of uhh... starry eyed about it.

Thanks everyone for helping!

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

shut in [9]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: ok ok ok ok sam deserves the world and im mad that he’s not getting it

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

He was gone.

10:00am

Time had begun to slip past you. Days where you were forced to wake up at 4am were just a dreary memory you didn’t want to revisit. The rough shoves in the morning to have you awake enough to be in training by 4:30am only fell into the category of things you had forgotten over the time you had stayed here.

Maybe sleep wasn’t a luxury you weren’t allowed to afford.

10:30am

By the time you step into the kitchen, the loose structure of the day you had ahead of you was forming. Maybe if you revisited the small makeshift shooting range you had set up for Sam and you to practice. A couple of old soup cans, a flat boulder for them to sit on and you were good to go. He had allowed you to use his giant board for knife throwing too, laughed when you asked for permission before saying it was for the both of you.

You made a sandwich for yourself, forcing it down your throat with water. Bread was starting to feel like cardboard and the jam just tasted like nothing. Peanut butter was even worse.

Losing appetite wasn’t an option, even though it had eroded a while ago. The best option was to just scarf it down with water.

11:00am

Sam isn’t in the house, you had deduced. A morning run or maybe just some fresh air.

You checked for the notes he sometimes left for you when he went out. Something along the lines of when he’d be back, or why he’d left, or where you could find him.

You looked on top of the fridge where he generally left them; someplace he knew you’d see. You didn’t find one.

You shrugged it off.

Something felt wrong about the arrangement of the kitchen but you couldn’t place a finger on what it was. All the chairs were in its place, trash appropriately in the bin, no bowls were left from soup day in the sink to wash.

The origami swan you had made still rested next to his paper airplane. Nothing seemed wrong or out of place.

You pushed yourself to shake off the nerves, to get dressed instead. The shooting range was waiting for you.

12:45pm

When you shoot for thirty and get all thirty, it tends to get a little boring. Not that you were complaining; if even one was off you’d spend the whole day trying to make up for it.

Violent hobbies weren’t ideal. They weren’t even hobbies per se. Just skills you needed to keep sharp if you wanted to survive.

You even shot at the targets that you had hung up on the trees. Dangerous and completely Sam’s idea. Said the wind made them act like moving targets. Nevermind the possibility of a ricochet.

The target board was empty too. Admittedly, knife throwing was a little harder to get used than shooting to but it still only took a few tries before you were hitting bullseye over and over again.

There just wasn’t anything to do. And you realised it had been this way for a while but you never noticed due to his lively chatter or how competitive it got with stupid games you were making up as you went.

1:00pm

You learned against the counter as you ate, eyeing the room, trying to figure out what you had misplaced. The air was cold, even more so after the shower, so you threw on an extra t-shirt to aid you.

You made a noise of disapproval when you couldn’t find what was wrong. A quick wash of your hands before you made your way to the TV, fully intending to doze off while watching Megamind for the fourth time.

You passed by the mini fridge on the way, noting how you needed to restock the ice cubes when you suddenly stopped in your path.

Your eyes peeled back to the small paper bowl Sam had crafted expertly that was still somehow managing to stick together. But that was what was wrong.

The keys were missing.

The fucking car keys and the pocket change you had taken from Pierce’s house were no longer there.

Your body moved on autopilot, dragging you towards the front door. You yanked it open, door creaking under the pressure you applied on it.

Your heart sank.

The car was gone.

1:20pm

You had all the possibilities listed out in front of you with the rest scratched out after you had rationalised it.

Someone had come in and taken the car, which wasn’t likely.

Sam had stepped out but hadn’t mentioned it to you. If he did, why would he need the car?

Someone had abducted Sam, which was absurd on paper but still left a twinge of uncertainty because you couldn’t definitively rule it out.

He had just left. Decided he was done and left.

You stared at the last option.

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

You wondered if it was that conversation.

He wouldn’t leave after you told him, would he?

You hesitated before shaking your head.

He’d come back. He would.

1:45pm

You had added a few more possibilities to the list but discarded it almost immediately.

You now found a place in front of the TV, watching but not registering what was said. Your fingers kept itself busy by playing with the hem of your shirt. You had thrown another one on since his jacket was missing with the rest of him. It had gotten colder.

The woman droned on about how much her husband loved the recipe she was making. It was Sam’s favourite segment, not because it was particularly fantastic or anything, but because it gave him forty five minutes of free content to trash talk.

Your eyes kept glancing up at the clock. Was it broken or was time much slower than you initially thought?

You almost felt like you were in a cognitive dysfunction; you couldn’t do anything other than while away time till you figured out what had gone wrong.

2:00pm

If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have heard the soft crunch of twigs. The whirring of the wheels as it turned gently only made you sit up straight, hands on the gun that rested on the couch beside you.

It came to a stop. The gun was fully in your grip now, TV turned off to determine what the noises were.

It was the most agonisingly slow minute you spent listening as the car opened and shut, muffled by the distance. You were near the door, using the adjoining wall as a hideaway.

The doorknob shook as someone tried to push their way in.

“Sam?” you called out cautiously against your better judgement, mentally cringing.

It took a second for his reply to return.

“Hey, sweetheart. Let me in, will you? Stupid door’s not opening.”

Of course it wouldn’t. It was fingerprint activated.

Relief flooded your system, letting yourself hold the gun with only one hand as you hastily made your way to open the door.

However, you paused. As much as you wanted to fling the door open blindly, you waited, hand on the knob.

“Is someone out there with you?”

“What?” he sounded confused. “No, it’s just me.”

You opened the door slightly, peeking out through the sliver of open space.

Sure enough, it was only him. The car was returned to the same spot that it was.

“Where were you?” You yanked the door open. You sounded way more aggressive than you planned to, you were sure. It didn’t matter though.

“Went to the store,” he said nonchalantly, stepping inside, and dropping the keys back where they were.

“What?”

He was so relaxed about it, like it was nothing. It only irked you further than you already were.

“Drove the car till the highway, walked into town and went to the store.” He set the bag down. “What’d you do all day?”

“You went to the town,” you emphasised. “To the fucking store.”

“Yeah, I figured you would be up by the time I came back.”

“You were gone for hours.” You crossed your arms over your chest, fighting the urge to yell. You could talk it out calmly. You didn’t have to snap

You hoped he had a good reason. You sincerely hoped, for his well being and security, that he risked his life to go to public space.

“We’re way further out than you think. Nearest dollar store’s almost the next fuckin’ state if you’re walking. Had to ditch the car because it’s a little too flashy, even for me.” He lifted up the bag next to him. “Got us some ramen. And juice. That’s all we had cash for anyway.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape.

“You could have been seen, Sam,” your tone was corrosive, the next best you could do instead of yelling. “For all we know, you could have been followed.”

“No one followed me. I made sure.”

That did nothing to alleviate the anxiety that was crawling into your head.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered. “Fucking ridiculous.”

“Where are you going?” You ignored him, turning on your heel and walking to the bedroom. You didn’t care if it was his day that day. He could rot in the kitchen with his stupid ramen for all you cared.

You cursed as you slammed the door behind you, launching yourself onto the bed.

There was no denying you were relieved that he was still alive and here. But fuck him. Fucking dickhead.

Fucking juice.

You spent the next couple of hours feeling absolutely embarrassed for yourself. Why did you spend hours worrying if he was safe when he was out there, gallivanting in public for some stupid noodles?

Both of you could have been absolutely fucked if he wasn’t careful. He may have just jeopardised your entire set up.

But deep down, no matter how much it was annoying to acknowledge, you knew he wouldn’t have. He was smart, strategic.

Why would he do something like this?

How much you were worried scared you. There was no time where it had occurred that maybe you were in danger too. Every possibility you came up with only pushed the thought of him possibly in trouble further into your head.

But the more you spend time overthinking, the more you realised that him being in danger wasn’t the entire cause of your worry.

What if he didn’t come back? Why’d he come back?

He had the means to leave, the will to and clearly was able to go undetected for a while. He didn’t need to return, but he did.

And for what; to give you some food he bought from the dollar store.

He seemed excited about it too, before you had closed the door on his face and decided to spend the next few hours self-destructing.

Fucking ramen.

Maybe if you could just lie there until you decomposed, then you wouldn’t have to have a conversation with him about this. That’s what you would have done a couple of months ago.

But now the idea of communicating had been implanted and implemented several times before. It didn’t feel right to push it away, not when you’d come so far. A chance to heal.

You groaned, shoving a pillow onto your face before getting up grumpily.

Fuck this man and his stupid, healthy methods of coping.

___

You opened the door slowly, creeping into the hallway to assess what he was doing. It had been a few hours of silence in the house. He had given you space, not come knocking on the door to explain himself.

You took note of the kitchen. The table had been laid with two bowls of noodles covered with a plate along with a glass each of juice. It was domestic. Cute.

He was watching Die Hard but the volume was turned down low. If he was anything like you, he wouldn’t have been paying too much attention.

You cleared your throat awkwardly to grab his attention.

His neck craned to look at you, surprise flashing across his face for a second before he leapt up, turning off the TV in an instant.

“Y/N,” he stated as normally as he could.

“Samuel,” your tone was steady.

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna show up.”

“Neither was I.” You looked at the table, gesturing towards it with your shoulder. “Watchu got there, Gordon Ramsey?”

Because screw him, but the longer you stood there staring at the bowl, you were starting to understand the lengths he went to to get something other than bread, peanut butter and soup. As much as the prospect of being petty thrilled you, you had survived on nothing but them for the past few weeks.

“Got a few packs of ramen and a gallon of juice from the store. Thought you- we deserve somethin’ nice.” You noticed his quick coverup but didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s not Michelin star worthy, but it’ll do.”

You nodded, avoiding looking at him.

“I-”

“Hey-”

Both of you started at the same time, only to be cut off by the other. You mentioned for him to continue.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I should have told you before I left,” You didn’t expect the sincerity that exuded from every word he let out and you found yourself unable to look away. “I’m not used to people worrying about where I go... but things are different now. I won’t do it again.”

You weren’t used to the feeling of lightness that accompanied an apology. Relief.

“Thank you,” you said breathily. His face noticeably brightened. “But why’d you come back?”

His small smile left as soon as it came, as his face fell into a frown. “What?”

“You could have just left. You had the car, the-” you stopped yourself from listing out reasons why he should have. “Why’d you come back?”

He looked completely confused.

“Because I wanted to,” he voiced. “Leaving you behind was never an option. I wouldn’t-”

He trailed off, eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re stuck with me,” he urged softly. “We’re a team.”

You lingered on him longer than you wanted to admit. He wasn’t lying, you had realised.

“Care to join me for dinner?” he asked, extending a hand to you.

You rolled your eyes but took it, feeling the heat creep up your neck. He smirked at you and fuck, he was frustratingly cute.

You understood. You totally understood when you nearly died at the first bite you took, vowing to never take food like this for granted again. It may have been the absolute bare minimum; just the seasoning and noodles he had cooked in the microwave, but it was the best goddamn meal you ever had.

“Good, right?” He looked about as content as he could be.

“Best fuckin’ day of my life.”

He kidded around some more. You choked out a laugh at some, wholly ignored the others to which he took complete offence. You saw it as a way to humble him.

This was the normalcy you had crushed your craving for so long ago, accepting that it wouldn’t ever happen. A normal dinner with someone who made you smile, no impending doom lurking around the corner and maybe a shot at a glimmer of something happy.

It was strange that you found it with another hitman in a safe house, hiding from authorities and who knows what else, with food worth a couple of cents. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Yet there were things that had to be discussed. Conversations that needed to happen.

“Sam, we need to talk about it.” You didn’t have to explain, he knew what you were talking about.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“We do,” he agreed, and you could feel the atmosphere in the room begin to shift. “But we don’t have to do it now.”

He reached across from where he was sitting, hesitantly interlacing your fingers. The sense of fluster you experienced wasn’t healthy, you decided.

You just ducked your head, fighting against the damn smile that was trying to make its way onto your face. You didn’t pull away.

“Okay.”

Next part

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