#kitty grown but still a baby somehow

[snowbanshee]

That scene in crisis core where Sephiroth is hanging out in Lazard's office:

Thank you, lovely and beautiful Pumpkin ♡

I love the idea that despite being a strong, self-sufficient, smart, and capable man, Sephiroth still gets to be loved and pampered. Goddess knows his inner child needs all the love and security he can get. I'm sure Lazard would be more than happy to provide it for his precious General.

[sanarsi]

Controversially young girlfriend

post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel finally finds his brother. He's not too happy to hear how he got on with his life without him. But his brother is also not happy to meet his new partner - you. Or Joel fucks you to comfort you. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 56), soft!dom!Joel, maybe little angst, unprotected PIV, fingering, daddy kink, DAUGHTER ISSUES (pls it’s important), protective!Joel, no!Ellie AU, pet names (baby girl, kitty, daddy) Wordcount: 4,6k An: Soft Joel is definitely one of my favorites. It's a pleasure to write him that way. Music I worked with: Brooklyn Baby - Lana Del Rey

Masterlist

“Well…” Tommy started, looking away. His hand intertwined with the woman's hand next to him. “Maria is family, actually.”

There was silence.

The atmosphere became so thick that you felt uncomfortable even though you weren't part of their conversation. Joel's gaze was fixed on the hands of the couple next to him as if he was cursing them in every way. You noticed out of the corner of your eye how his jaw was clenching dangerously so you decided to save the situation before it became even more awkward.

“Congrats,” you said with a nice smile and they responded in kind.

But they didn't wait for your words.

They waited for Joel's words, but he still remained dangerously silent.

You looked at him, placing your hand on his in a comforting gesture. His fingers immediately tightened around yours as if they were the only thing that could save him.

“Joel, say congrats,” you murmured with an encouraging smile. You watched carefully as he clenched his jaw tighter, fighting with himself. His eyes finally fell on his brother and his partner.

There was a long silence again.

“Congrats,” a low voice cut through the silence like a knife. You wanted to roll your eyes at the way his words sounded. As if he wished them to fall out on the ice. So in Joel’s style...

You were surprised that his attitude towards the whole situation changed in just a few seconds. A moment ago he was hugging his brother with tears in his eyes and now he was looking at him with contempt. There was no positive emotion in his behaviour but you decided that you would ask him about everything when you were alone.

You squeezed his hand tighter as he leaned back, getting more comfortable. And it wouldn't be something special if that damn old man wasn't trying to show in this way his dominance.

This time you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his childish behavior. Grown up man.

Tommy and Maria exchanged knowing glances before he tried to break the awkward atmosphere.

“So…” he started with a smile, looking from you to Joel. “Are you two…” he started, pointing his finger at you. You immediately understood what he was trying to ask and you opened your mouth to answer him, but Joel was faster.

"Yes," he said coldly. You glanced at him as he continued to stare deadly at his brother. Tommy smiled awkwardly and nodded.

"He's annoying sometimes, isn't he?" he asked teasingly, wanting to relax the atmosphere. You chuckled, deciding that at least you, out of the two of you, would show some level of manners.

“Yeah, sometimes,” you nodded with a smile. Tommy quickly realized that he would rather talk to you than to his own brother. He smiled pleasantly at you, ignoring Joel's burning gaze.

"How did you meet?" he started, wanting to do a quick interview. And of course he wasn't doing it because you looked so damn young.

Too young…

You smiled wider, glancing out of the corner of your eye at Joel before you began to speak.

"Well... we happened to run into each other in the middle of nowhere," you said, feeling Joel start to gently stroke your hand with his thumb. A small gesture but it gave you a lot of comfort. “It won't come as a surprise that the first time we met, we pointed guns at each other,” you laughed softly at the memory. It seemed so irrational now. "But somehow he managed to convince me not to put a bullet in his head."

Joel finally glanced at you, and if it weren't for the whole situation, he would have started teasing you about what you said.

“He's been like my shadow ever since,” you finished saying and glanced at Joel, giving him a soft smile. His gaze immediately warmed. You were his weak spot and like a ray of sunshine, you warmed his broken soul. You were his cure.

Tommy noticed the way you were looking at each other and felt strangely uneasy. He hadn't seen Joel look at anyone like that since his daughter died. And he honestly didn't think it was a good thing.

"How old are you?" came the question from his mouth. Maria looked at him warningly, but it was too late. The words were spoken.

You looked at Tommy, smiling crookedly. You knew that your age was... a topic you preferred to avoid. Relationships with such an age difference were not perceived very well by other people.

“I-“ you started hesitantly.

"Twenty-two," Joel replied, looking intently at his brother. You swallowed, feeling a lump in your stomach as you heard Joel's confident voice. You tightened your fingers on his hand, searching for the comfort he immediately provided you.

For him, there was only you.

You and your comfort were his priority.

Tommy laughed nervously, his eyes darting between the two of you. He straightened up slowly and glanced at his partner as if she was about to tell him that it was all really a joke.

But no one else laughed. Maria looked at him knowingly, Joel looked at him deadly and you looked down. Everyone was dead serious and then Tommy couldn't stand it. He looked at everyone, getting more serious by the second.

“Are you fucking serious?” he finally asked in disbelief. He snorted dryly, focusing his full attention on Joel. You cringed slightly at his aggressive tone. His reaction didn't bode well and you honestly didn't want to witness it. “Joel, what the fuck?” he growled, pointing his hand at you. “She's twenty-two. She's a fucking child."

You blinked a few times, staring stubbornly at the discoloration on the table. Right now, anything was better than facing the situation that was happening.

But Joel was calm. At least that's what he appeared to be. He gently squeezed your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. And he didn't seem at all concerned about his brother's reaction.

"If Sarah were alive-"

"Don’t," Joel interrupted him firmly. Tommy fell silent, knowing he had said a few too many words. But he wasn't thinking about that now. He was too upset about what his brother was doing. He snorted dryly, spreading his hands helplessly.

“What are you doing exactly?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re playing family with her? Playing her daddy?” he continued with increasing disgust. “Treating your daughter issues?” he added with venom.

Tears appeared in your eyes. Was your relationship really that disgusting in the eyes of others?

"She is younger than her, Joel" he said a little more calmly, trying to make his brother realize that what he was doing was wrong. Your eyes met Maria's. There was no compassion in her for this situation, she looked at you with compassion as if you were unaware of the harm that was affecting you. As if you were… just a stupid kid.

You shuddered because of the negative emotions that filled the table. This didn't go unnoticed by Joel. He knew he had allowed Tommy's offensive comments to go on too long.

"She's happy with me," he finally said, his voice a little hoarse. This time you shuddered because of him. “You don't have to worry about the rest. I'm not hurting her.” He straightened up slowly and squeezed your hand before letting you go. "We'll replenish our supplies and leave in the morning," he decided, moving away from the table. Tommy looked at him, not knowing what to say.

"Joel-"

"Thank you for the meal," he said politely to Maria and stood up. His contemptuous gaze was fixed on his brother as he extended his hand towards you.

“It was nice to meet you,” you said, smiling politely at her and then without thinking, you took Joel's hand. In the blink of an eye, a jacket appeared on your shoulders as you stepped outside. Without a word, you tried to keep up with Joel as you passed the others people.

He was furious, you were sure of that. That's why you were afraid to even breathe for several minutes. The snow crunched under your shoes as you passed each street. You had access to the house at the very end of the town, so you had a short walk ahead of you.

Eventually, Joel slowed down a bit. His shoulders stopped tensing and the crease between his eyebrows disappeared slightly.

“Not so great orientation meeting,” you said jokingly. Joel raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you. And even though his emotions were swirling inside him, the sight of your sweet, innocent smile immediately brought him peace.

He sighed heavily, looking away. “Yeah, not very successful,” he replied with a small smirk on his face.

You smiled wider when you saw his reaction. You loved that Joel was like this just with you. As if he couldn't feel negative emotions around you. He really couldn’t. You were his cure for everything.

The rest of the way was spent in silence until you stood on the porch of the last house on the street and Joel opened the door for you.

“Woah,” you sighed, looking around the house. “A house suitable for living. I’m in shock” you marveled as you slowly explored each room and Joel watched your every move. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, and quickly looked around the interior.

“Yeah, not bad,” he nodded, making you look at him in shock.

“Dude, it's awesome here,” you said, spreading your arms with a wide smile.

“Language” admonished you.

“Yeah, sorry,” you nodded and started exploring the house again.

You spent the entire evening washing away the dirt from several months. Only after the third time, the water was clear. You sat staring at the water as Joel washed your hair once again. You didn't ask him for it, but you never had to ask him for anything. If he could, he would start breathing for you. It may have amounted to obsession.

But who could stop him? More than one has tried to take you away from him. And they all ended their lives.

Who could blame him? If he had to, he would kill everyone in the world, everyone infected, just to keep you safe.

"Can I ask you something?" you spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Anything,” he replied, automatically washing the ends of your hair thoroughly.

“You promise you won't be mad?”

“I can't be mad at you.”

And it was true. Even though you knew it, you still felt stressed. Joel was…allergic to certain topics and you completely respected that. But after today, you couldn't and didn't want to stay silent.

“How old would Sarah be now?” you asked quietly. His movements stopped for a few seconds, as did your heart. But Joel didn't let you live in uncertainty for long. He slowly started washing your hair again and sighed softly. You knew that this topic wasn't very pleasant for him, so you honestly spat in your face for needing to know the answer to a few questions.

"Thirty-two," he replied without much emotion.

You swallowed hard, realizing that Tommy was right. You were too fucking young for him.

His daughter would be ten years older than you.

His daughter.

And you were his… who? Girlfriend? Now that sounded pathetic.

You wrapped your arms around your knees tighter, resting your chin on them and remaining silent. You've never thought about it all this way.

Joel was always… good for you.

True, he had his weaknesses, but who didn't? His wounds didn't bother you. After all, you fell in love with him. With all his flaws.

"You're silent," he noted after a few minutes of silence.

This conversation was not in his favor, but he knew that there were reactions going on in your head that shouldn't be there. And he knew he had to make sure nothing stupid got into your head.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, starting to slowly rinse the lather from your hair. The warm water ran down your back, making you shiver with pleasure.

“I just… think,” you shrugged. Joel sighed heavily and you knew very well what that meant.

"Baby-"

"Do you think Tommy's right?" you interrupted him before he could get going.

"About?" he asked, squeezing the excess water from your hair. You straightened up, looking at him over your shoulder. You were upset by everything you heard and he couldn't bear it. He couldn't stand that his own brother had put you in such a state. A state of doubt.

Joel moved closer to you, groaning softly as he knelt by the tub. You watched his tired face with those innocent eyes of yours.

“Listen, baby girl…” he started and touched your cheek gently. “I'm not going to lie to you…Tommy's god damn right,” he nodded, and more emotions immediately appeared in your eyes.

Fear? Surprise? Uncertainty? Or maybe all at once.

Despite his words, he smiled at you, stroking your jaw tenderly. “I'm too damn old for you,” he laughed, following the movements of his fingers with his eyes. His worn hands against your silky skin.

Two contradictions.

“Fuck…” he sighed with a helpless smile and trailed his fingers down to your neck. “Baby, you are like a blooming flower. Young, beautiful, innocent," he said dreamily. "While I am a dried bush overgrown with weeds for a long time."

“You are not,” you denied, frowning in sadness. Joel smiled fondly at your words and stroked your cheek with his thumb. You unconsciously hugged to his hand. A warm, rough hand that brought you a sense of security.

“So what am I in your eyes?” he asked, looking at you with tenderness. You were so damn delicate that sometimes he was afraid he would break you.

“You are like a big oak tree at the very top of the hill,” you said with a soft smile. A smile that was intended only for him. “Your crown provides shade and shelter in the summer,” you continued, looking closely at every detail on his face. "And in winter your branches scare away all those who didn’t rest under you in summer."

His heart tightened in his chest as he listened to your words. In your eyes, Joel was a completely different person. In your eyes, he was good.

“You would be a good poet,” he replied, shaking his head with a smile. You watched as he slowly stood up, groaning at the slightest movement.

Good old oak.

“Get your ass out of it cause I want to wash up too,” he looked down at you with a smirk before walking out of the bathroom.

A few hours later you were lying in bed.

A soft bed.

A clean bed.

And yet you couldn't sleep.

You stared at the blank wall and thought about everything and nothing. Joel was long asleep. At least that's what you thought. You didn't know because you hadn't turned to face him since he laid down in bed. His calm breathing was the only thing you could focus on. No other sounds. You were... safe. This was rare.

So why did you feel so… bad?

Why his calm breathing didn’t bring you comfort like it always did?

Why you felt like you were in the wrong place?

Why-

“You've been silent for several hours,” Joel's hoarse voice brought you out of your thoughts. “It wouldn't be weird if you were sleeping, but you are not,” he continued, and the mattress behind you sagged under his weight. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned in, nuzzling your ear. “So are you finally going to tell me what this is about?” he whispered, sending shivers down your entire body. Your pulse immediately quickened at his proximity.

Then came a gentle kiss behind the ear.

And then on the neck.

And then his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer to his heated chest.

“I was sleeping,” you said quietly, hoping to avoid the conversation.

“Liar,” he whispered into your ear, his warm breath reverberating through your body in an inappropriate way. “Come on, baby girl,” he nuzzled you encouragingly. "Spit it out."

You lay there struggling with yourself for a while. You didn't want to talk about it now. You didn't want to talk about it at all. But something inside made you ask the question that was floating around in your head like a virus.

“If you think Tommy is right, then why-”

“Because I love you,” he interrupted you, knowing very well what your question would be. Even if he didn't know, there was one answer. “Because I can't imagine being where I am now without you.”

You fell silent, letting his words permeate the space around you. You believed him. Always and in everything. You pursed your lips into a line, wondering for the first time if you were stupid enough to trust him blindly with everything.

For the first time you doubted him.

“They looked at me like I was stupid for trusting you,” you whispered, huddling deeper under the blanket. Joel sighed softly and turned you towards him. You stared at his chest, not wanting to look at him. You were ridiculed just because you were young.

“Hey, baby, look at me,” he said gently, running his fingers down your cheek to your chin to force you to look up.

You were sad.

He hated when you were sad.

His sunshine couldn't hide behind the clouds.

“You're not stupid, you understand?” he started, looking at you seriously. You wanted to look away but he wouldn't let you. "Understand?" he repeated more firmly. You nodded weakly, but that was enough for him. “I'm the problem, not you,” he spoke softly, stroking your cheek gently. “I'm not a good person and they know it,” he smiled gently, wanting to reassure you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I've done a lot of bad things you've never even heard of." He slowly traced your cheek until he finally removed his hand only to place it on your hip. “But you… You are good.” He pressed his fingers lightly against your skin and then moved down to your thigh. “And someone as good as you shouldn't be with someone as bad as me,” he explained and slowly pulled your leg on top of him.

“But-“

“Your age is just something they can pick on,” he answered your question before it left your mouth. You fell silent, feeling the warmth on your cheeks as his hand slowly began to stroke your thigh. “They don't believe that someone like you is with me by choice and not by force,” he explained with a soft smile on his lips as his hand moved up, sneaking under your shirt to your waist. “They explain everything using my trauma. And the fact is, maybe there is a fatherly instinct in me. But thanks to this, I can take care of you the way you need it.” His words crept into your head just as he wanted them to. You were fascinated by him. You looked at him again like you always did.

As if there was only him in the whole world.

That look healed another piece of his soul each time.

He couldn't lose you.

Even at the cost of his own brother.

“And the fact that you kissed me first was just an added bonus. I'm just a man and you knew exactly what to do to make me weak for you" he added with a smirk and you snorted under your breath. Your reaction was enough to make his heart beat faster. And the happiness in your eyes only ignited it.

He leaned towards you, nuzzling his nose against yours. You closed your eyes with a blissful smile.

“They may think you're stupid for me, but the truth is, I'm stupid for you,” he whispered before gently pressing his lips to yours. The warmth of his lips and the roughness of his beard warmed your heart. He kissed you gently and slowly. He always did it slowly. Enjoying every second of the closeness you gave him. He didn't know how many moments like this he had left so he enjoyed everything you gave him.

The softness of your lips.

The gentleness of your hands.

The sweetness of your moans.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer until there was no space between you. Your hands came to his cheeks as he slowly deepened the kiss. Even in the kiss he could feel how delicate you were.

Joel was already too destroyed by life for his lips to taste like yours. But that's how you liked him. With heavy touch, rough beard, chapped lips and tired eyes. And all this with a pinch of love he had for you.

You moaned into his mouth as he pulled your hips closer to his. How could you not fall for him when he was perfect for you?

“Let me take care of you, baby girl,” he whispered against your lips and moved his hips gently, grinding against you. Your breath shuddered as he brushed against your pussy. Without thinking, you nodded.

“Okay,” your whisper disappeared into his mouth as he kissed you again. He ran his hand down your back to your ass until he disappeared between your thighs.

You moaned sweetly as he ran his fingers over your wet slit. He loved how wet you were for him. Always.

You made him feel like a man again.

You let him take care of you in every sense of the word. You trusted him. And this time he wasn't going to make the same mistake.

His fingers slowly dipped into your hole, triggering another moan that disappeared into his mouth. He slowly started fucking you with his fingers. Gently and with love. Takes his time with you.

You breathed heavily into his mouth, purring every now and then in contentment at his gentle touch. He experienced it with you, drinking everything from your lips.

“You're always ready for me,” he purred contentedly and rubbed the bulge in his boxers against your clit. You whimpered softly. “Such a good girl,” he nuzzled against yours and placed a kiss on the tips of your lips. You felt the muscles in your lower abdomen begin to tense with every movement of his finger.

And suddenly his fingers disappeared. You gasped, feeling the sudden emptiness. His hand disappeared between your bodies only to take out his ready cock. He ran his hand along his entire length a few times, placing another kiss on your cheek.

“Don’t worry, daddy will take care of you,” he whispered, running his tip over your slit and then dipping into you a moment later. You gasped, closing your eyes and letting him wrap his arms around your waist.

He pulled you closer, impaling you with his cock. He shuddered as he buried himself inside you. You always welcomed him with warmth and wetness. You clenched around him at the feeling of being filled.

“She's happy to see me,” he said happily, placing a trail of kisses along your jaw. He wrapped his arm tightly around your hips and slowly began to move inside you. His movements were negligible. He pulled out of you only a few inches only to come back in again. These lazy movements were beyond perfect. You felt him perfectly and constantly. Just like you should.

You moaned, tightening your leg around his hip to get even closer. To make it even deeper. His lips were on your neck, placing wet kisses inch by inch. And all you could do was melt in his embrace. Every lazy movement of his hips stimulated you non-stop. Your soft moans filled the room and his heart. He loved hearing you sing for him.

He kept thrusting into you, keeping the perfect pace. Zero breaks in stimulating your pussy. Lazy sex was definitely one of your favorites. The constant closeness you had then was something that made you forget for a moment that the world around you existed. His lips returned to yours, inviting you into a deep kiss. Perfectly coordinated from the very beginning. From the first moment your lips met.

“I love making love to you,” he whispered against your lips. All you could do in response was pull him in for a kiss again. The pleasure you felt between your legs, your heart and your soul made a single tear roll down your cheek.

Fuck, how could you ever give up on this man? The old oak tree under whose care you blossomed.

His fingers dug into your skin and his movements were more decisive. He continued to move lazily inside you, only to enter hard until the very end. You breathed heavily into his mouth, keeping your hands firmly on his cheeks. Your gasps and moans mixed together in perfect harmony.

“Fuck, dad-“ you trailed off as he thrust into you hard once again.

“Yes, baby girl, come on my cock,” he gasped, feeling your slit becoming more and more reluctant to let him come out of you. This was the only time he started fighting with you.

He held your hips tightly, trying to keep the same pace even though you weren't making it easy for him.

“Don't fight it kitty,” he said with a smile. You laughed softly against his lips and started moving your hips to help him. Your movements made him look forward to fulfillment as well. You both moved your hips in sync, moaning into each other's mouths.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up, okay?” he gasped, feeling his movements become sloppier than he would have liked.

“Mhm,” you murmured, holding on to his neck like a lifeline. Joel began to moan louder and louder into your mouth, feeling his orgasm slowly approaching like a wave of fire. You sped up your hip movements, feeling him start to slow down. You had to catch up with him.

“Oh, fuck… Fuck,” he groaned in pleasure as he came inside you. His orgasm was like a rag to a bull for you. You rolled your hips a few more times before you came, panting heavily. You shuddered, moving your hips one more time before you collapsed, looking up at him, satisfied.

He watched you in silence, and the sight of your face after your orgasm was definitely one of his favorites. He leaned towards you, stealing a gentle kiss. His thumb stroked your cheek as if you were made of porcelain. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you to his chest as he covered your bodies with the blanket. You snuggled into him, listening to his heartbeat as he stroked your hair gently.

"You know... you may be too old for me, but you're still doing pretty well," you admitted, and he laughed quietly.

"Yeah?" he asked, amused.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a smile. Joel leaned down to press a kiss to your head in response to your teasing. You were perfect. And you were his.

[chosok-amo]

GENTLE LOVE : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

“loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

wc. 8,9k | m.list

it was almost midnight when you found yourself grumbling under your breath, cursing your two upperclassmen for dragging you into this late-night escapade. you tugged at the hem of your hello kitty pink pajamas, the fabric flapping slightly in the cool breeze that swept through the empty park. your hair, loose and free, danced in the wind as you shivered, regretting not grabbing a jacket on your way out.

the park was eerily quiet, the moonlight casting long shadows from the trees onto the pathway. as you trudged along, your slippers making soft thuds on the pavement, you finally spotted them: gojo and geto, casually lounging like it wasn’t nearing the early hours of the morning.

gojo, still dressed in his uniform, was sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone in hand, his legs stretched out in front of him as if he had all the time in the world. his bright white hair practically glowed under the dim park lights, a stark contrast to the dark surroundings. next to him, geto stood with his usual calm demeanor, already changed into his comfortable, oversized attire—a black sweatshirt and sweatpants. he had an ice cream cone of his own, and a plastic bag dangled from his wrist, likely filled with more midnight snacks they somehow thought were worth dragging you out here for.

you approached them, your face scrunched in annoyance. “you idiots do realize it's almost midnight, right?” you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your irritation despite the amusing sight of the two of them indulging in ice cream as if they were on a casual afternoon outing.

“of course we do,” gojo responded nonchalantly, licking his ice cream and ignoring your glare before gesturing to the empty space beside him, “come sit down and stop complaining already.”

geto chimed in, a sly smile playing at his lips as he took a bite from his own ice cream. “don't be such a buzzkill. you're here now, might as well enjoy the night air with us.” you had barely taken a seat on the bench when gojo's grin widened, his eyes raking over your hello kitty pink pajamas. he tried to stifle a laugh, but it quickly burst out, echoing through the quiet park. “seriously? hello kitty? aren’t you a little old for that?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he nudged you playfully with his elbow.

geto chuckled as well, eyeing your pajamas. “gotta admit it's pretty adorable, though.”

gojo leaned in closer, still grinning. “aww, look at you, all cozy in your kitty jammies,” he teased, pinching the fabric at your shoulder between his fingers, “you look like you should be tucked in bed and not out here with us.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head as he eyed your outfit with an amused smirk. “i thought you’d come out in something at least a little more... you know, grown-up,” he added, his voice calm but clearly entertained. “i mean, it’s cute, but definitely not what i expected from you.”

you glared at them both, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “well, excuse me for not having a runway-worthy wardrobe at midnight,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “at least i’m dressed for comfort, unlike someone who’s still in his uniform,” you added, shooting a pointed look at gojo.

gojo chuckled, patting the edge of his uniform blazer. “hey, don't hate on my style. this uniform's part of my charm.” geto leaned back against the backrest after he was taking a sit, still wearing that smirking. “more like a part of your ego,” he quipped, earning a roll of the eyes from gojo.

“oh, shut up,” gojo retorted, returning his full attention to you. “besides, you're the one who couldn't be bothered to change out of those baby pajamas.”

geto snorted at gojo’s remark, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “isn’t it past your bedtime already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully as he glanced at you. you shot him a sassy look, crossing your arms and giving him a mock glare. “oh, please,” you retorted. “like you’re one to talk about bedtime. you’re the one hanging out in oversized sweatpants like a toddler, what are you? 2? at least my pajamas are cute.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head at your response. “touché,” he admitted, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. gojo snickered, watching the banter between you two with amusement. then he turned his smirk towards you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “you know, speaking of toddlers, with those cute little jammies, you're practically begging for a bedtime story.”

he leaned in closer, his gaze lingering on the cartoon kitties printed on your pjs, “you want us to tuck you in and read you a goodnight tale?” you groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes so hard you nearly gave yourself a headache. “oh, for the love of—stop it already,” you grumbled, standing up from the bench and making a show of sulking.

you started to walk back toward the dorm, but gojo was quick to act. He leaped up and blocked your path, a playful grin still plastered on his face. “oh no, you don’t,” he said, holding out his hand to gently stop you. “we’re not letting you escape this easily.”

geto chuckled as he didn't move an inch, watching the scene unfold with amusement. “come on, don’t be like that. we’re just having fun.” gojo's hand on your shoulder was firm, his grip gentle but preventing you from escaping. his smirk widened as he watched you pout with annoyance. “yeah, where do you think you're going? we didn't drag you out here to ditch us now.”

geto chimed in, still slouching on the bench. “you're stuck with us for a while still. so sit back down and enjoy the night. or are you just gonna sulk all night?” you groaned loudly, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “ugh, so annoying,” you muttered under your breath, stomping your feet as you turned back toward the bench.

gojo chuckled, satisfied that you were returning to the bench. he took his place beside you again, his arm casually slung over the backrest.

“see, that's a good girl,” he teased, his smirk widening, “no need to throw a tantrum.” geto rolled his eyes at his comment but still had that smirk on his face. “yeah, don't be such a drama queen,” he chimed in, enjoying the moment. gojo’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he held out his ice cream to you. “here, have some more,” he said, his tone a bit more soothing. “it’ll help with that attitude of yours.”

geto followed suit, handing you his ice cream with a playful grin. “yeah, we don’t want you sulking the whole night. we’re just here to have a good time,” he added, leaning back and clearly enjoying your reactions.

you took the ice cream from them, feeling a bit of the tension ease away as you accepted their offering. “alright, alright,” you said, though your annoyance had already started to melt away. “i’ll take the ice cream. just stop with the teasing for a bit.” both of them exchanged amused glances, their grins not fading. “deal,” gojo said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “now, let’s just enjoy the night.”

you took a bite of the ice cream, the cold sweetness helping to calm your irritation. despite their constant teasing, you found yourself smiling, realizing that, for all their antics, they really did make these late-night outings enjoyable.

gojo and geto exchanged a satisfied look as they saw your mood gradually improving. watching your expression soften with each bite of the ice cream was like a victory for them.

“see, we knew the sweet stuff would mellow you out,” gojo commented, a smug smile playing at his lips. geto chuckled, nodding, “yeah, nothing like some ice cream to chase away the grumpy mood.” he leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “we've still got some snacks left, though. want something else?”

you took another bite of the ice cream, feeling your mood continue to improve. with a contented sigh, you looked at geto and shook your head. “i’m okay for now,” you said, offering them a small smile. “i’ll take the snacks later.”

as you continued eating your ice cream, you felt geto’s fingers gently run through the back of your hair, combing through it with a tender touch. the sensation was soothing, and you couldn’t help but notice how often they found little ways to be physically close to you, even if it was just a gentle touch.

you glanced at geto, his eyes soft as he focused on the simple gesture. you had come to realize over the past months that this was their way of staying connected—always finding subtle ways to show affection without overstepping any boundaries.

gojo saw the tender moment between you and geto, his hand in your hair, and he felt a pang of jealousy. he knew geto had always been more openly affectionate, but he didn't want to be left out.

without a word, he scooted closer to you on the bench, his thigh touching yours. he leaned in, invading your personal space, and feigned a shiver. “god, it's cold tonight,” he commented, his voice taking on a mocking tone, “you think i could share some of your warmth, princess? it's freezing.”

“you guys really are touch-starved, huh?” you commented with a soft chuckle, your tone light but acknowledging the need you’d noticed. geto smiled, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “just a bit,” he admitted, looking content. “it’s nice to be close to you. we don’t get to do this often enough.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through you. “well, as long as it’s not too overwhelming, i guess i can handle it,” you said, leaning into his touch and letting yourself relax a bit more.

gojo let out a mock gasp of offense, his smirk not fading. “did you just call us touch-starved?” he feigned a pout, raising an eyebrow, “we're not that desperate, are we?”

despite his protests, he was secretly enjoying the fact that you were acknowledging their fondness for physical touch. he leaned even closer to you, his body pressing against yours, “oh come on, admit it. you love the attention.”

you raised an eyebrow, giving gojo a sarcastic look. “love the attention? from constantly getting surrounded by a couple of giant babies? not really,” you replied, your tone dripping with mock exasperation.

gojo feigned a look of shock, clutching a hand to his chest. “oh, wounded,” he dramatically exclaimed, a smirk still on his face. “we're not babies! we're just, you know, physically affectionate.”

geto chuckled at the exchange, his hand continuing its gentle stroking through your hair, “yeah, we can't help it if we crave your company. you're like our walking, talking stress reliever.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful grin spreading across your face as you looked at geto. “so, am i doing a good job as your walking, talking stress reliever?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

geto’s eyes met yours with a soft, appreciative smile. “oh, absolutely,” he said, his hand continuing its gentle movement through your hair. “you’re perfect at it. couldn’t ask for a better stress reliever.” gojo rolled his eyes dramatically at geto's response. “oh, come on,” he interjected, a playful pout on his lips. “don't hog all the credit. i'm a pretty fantastic stress reliever too, you know.”

he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him and away from geto. “can't have you getting too attached to just one of us.” you let out an exaggerated groan and rolled your eyes. “oh, please, don’t get all cringe-worthy now,” you said, wrinkling your nose as gojo pulled you closer.

you nudged him playfully, still shaking your head. “if you guys are going to use me as your personal stress reliever, you should start sending me some money for my services,” you added with a teasing grin. gojo laughed at your response, his arm still around your shoulder. “oh, so now you want monetary compensation for being our stress relief toy? how much do you want?”

geto, not wanting to be left out, chimed in, “yeah, name your price. we're willing to pay top dollar for your services.” you squinted at them, giving them a bemused look. “why do you guys talk like i’m some kind of hooker?” you asked, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

gojo's smirk widened, “who said anything about hookers? we're just talking about your value as a stress reliever.”

geto chimed in, his tone playful, “yeah, you're priceless, you know. we'd pay a fortune to keep you around.” you gave them a disgusted look, shaking your head. “i swear, everything that comes out of your mouths sometimes sounds so inappropriate,” you said, your tone exasperated but with a hint of amusement. gojo chuckled at your disapproving look. “hey, blame it on our naturally filthy minds. it's just who we are.”

geto grinned, his hand finally leaving your hair, “yeah, you know you love it. deep down, you probably find it entertaining.” you rolled your eyes, reaching over to smack the back of their heads. “assholes,” you muttered, your tone more playful than serious.

after spending some time at the park, you thought the night was coming to a peaceful close, but gojo and geto had other plans. they’d decided, on a whim, to drag you out for a midnight hike up a nearby hill—while you were still in your pajamas.

you trudged up the path, feeling the chilly night air against your skin, your pajamas doing little to keep you warm. “this is my life now,” you complained dramatically, “i’ve climbed this hill, and now i’ll die upon it!”

gojo, leading the way, glanced back with an amused smirk. “shut up, we’ve only been hiking for five minutes,” he shot back, clearly entertained by your theatrics.

“yeah, quit your whining,” geto added from behind, his soft chuckle barely audible over the sound of your footsteps. “it’s not even that far, and you’re doing great.”

you shot a look back at geto, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “seriously, though? dragging me out here in the middle of the night when i’m in pajamas? you two are insufferable.”

gojo turned around, walking backward with a grin. “come on, it’ll be worth it. the view from the top is amazing. just a little bit more.” with a dramatic sigh, you kept trudging along, determined not to let them have the satisfaction of seeing you give up. “fine, fine. but i’m holding you both responsible for my inevitable suffering.”

geto’s laughter echoed in the cool night air as he followed closely behind you. “deal. just keep going, and you’ll see it was worth it.” the night stretched on as you climbed higher, and despite your grumbling, there was a sense of quiet camaraderie in the air. it was the kind of absurd adventure that you’d look back on with a smile—though for now, the thought of your warm bed seemed like the true peak of the night.

gojo continued to lead the way, his pace steady and his spirits high. each step up the hill seemed to fuel his energy. “come on, princess, don't complain so much. you're still in your adorable hello kitty pajamas.”

geto was right behind you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your dramatic behavior, “yeah, just a little bit further. you can do it. we promise it'll be worth it.” you felt their hands tighten around yours, and you glanced at them with a sarcastic smile. “oh, wonderful, i’m being supported by the world’s most enthusiastic hill-climbers,” you said, your tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. “just what i needed.”

gojo’s grin widened, clearly pleased with your reaction. “see? we’re not so bad. we just want to make sure you’re okay.” geto chuckled at your sarcastic remark, “yeah, we're just being helpful guides on your little midnight adventure. think of us as your personal sherpas.”

gojo chimed in, his tone was light and playful, “and hey, you gotta admit, we're pretty great company. who else would drag you out on a hill climb like this?” you rolled your eyes, giving them an annoyed look. “personal sherpas, huh? more like personal tormentors,” you said, shaking your head. “and yeah, i guess I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else crazy enough to drag me out in pajamas for a midnight hike.”

gojo chuckled at your exasperated expression. “hey, we prefer the term 'enthusiastic adventure planners' as for the pajamas, well, we think they're just adding to the hiking experience.” geto chimed in with a cheeky smile, “yeah, you look adorable in your hello kitty jammies, even if they're not exactly hiking-appropriate.”

once the three of you reached the top of the hill, you looked out at the city lights spread before you. with your hands on your hips, you turned to look at gojo and geto, who were both smiling at the view with evident satisfaction.

you couldn’t help but frown as you took in the sight. with a dramatic sigh, you smacked both of their chests. “the view is shit,” you complained, shaking your head. “i climbed all the way up here for this?” gojo let out an exaggerated gasp, pretending to be wounded by your complaint. “hey, we worked hard to drag your whining ass up here.”

geto chuckled, looking amused at your response. “yeah, and you’re supposed to appreciate the view, not just complain about it.” you rolled your eyes dramatically, crossing your arms. “oh, yeah, appreciate the view,” you said sarcastically. “the city lights are just so dull. and let’s not forget, it’s freezing up here.”

you shivered slightly, adding with a mock shiver, “i’m practically turning into an ice sculpture. so, thanks for that, too.” gojo chuckled at your constant complaints. “man, you really are a master of complaining, aren't you? the view isn't dull, it's just not exciting enough for your high standards."

geto chimed in, still amused by your dramatic responses. “yeah, and it's not even that cold. grow some thicker skin, princess.” you turned to geto with a raised eyebrow. “oh, yeah? how about you be a gentleman and give me your sweatshirt, then?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

geto chuckled at your demand, raising an eyebrow as well. “oh, so now you're using your feminine wiles to try and get your way, huh?” gojo chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the exchange, “yeah, playing the damsel in distress, all shivering and cute.”

you grumbled, clearly annoyed by their teasing. “useless,” you muttered under your breath as you sat down on the grass, your feet aching from the climb. gojo and geto exchanged amused glances, watching as you took a seat without saying anything more.

gojo chuckled, his eyes watching you closely as you sat down. “oh, look, the complaining princess has finally decided to take a break.” geto smirked, looking down at you as you sat on the grass, “yeah, those cute little feet got tired, huh?” you pouted, giving them both a look of exaggerated exasperation. “it hurts,” you admitted, rubbing your feet slightly, “and it’s not exactly comfortable up here, you know.”

gojo kneeled down beside you, pretending to be sympathetic, “oh, poor princess, your dainty feet can't handle a little bit of cold grass.” geto chuckled, sitting down next to you as well. “yeah, this isn't exactly the luxury penthouse you're used to, huh?”

you continued to pout, rubbing your ankle with a slight wince, refusing to respond to their teasing. gojo and geto exchanged a look, their playful expressions softening as they watched you, the usual mischief in their eyes replaced by something more gentle.

“alright, alright,” gojo finally said, letting out a small laugh. “we’re sorry, princess. didn’t mean to push you too hard.” geto sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips as he shrugged off his sweatshirt. “here,” he said, draping it over your shoulders. “was planning to give it to you anyway, just had to get my teasing in first.”

you glanced up at him, your pout easing slightly as you pulled the sweatshirt closer around you. it was warm, and you could smell geto’s familiar scent, which made you feel a little better. “thanks,” you mumbled, still sulking a bit but grateful nonetheless. “see?” gojo grinned, leaning in closer. “we’re not completely useless, right?”

geto nudged your side gently. “and we’ll make it up to you. promise.” you let out a small, reluctant laugh, their warmth and light-heartedness slowly melting away your annoyance. “so annoying,” you murmur with a small smile on your face.

gojo chuckled at your grumbled response, his smile growing wider. “yeah, we're pretty damn annoying, but you love us for it.” geto watched you as you pulled his sweatshirt tighter around you, a soft expression on his face. he reached over and gently ruffled your hair. “see? being annoying has its perks, doesn't it?” gojo leaned in closer, his expression mischievous, “yeah, our annoyingness comes with a side of pretty damn good rewards, princess.”

as you sat there, wrapped in geto's sweatshirt and surrounded by their annoying but loveable presence, the three of you settled into a comfortable silence. the city lights continued to glimmer in the distance, and the cool night air carried a hint of chill.

gojo and geto sat on either side of you, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. they watched you intently, waiting to see if your sulky demeanor would give way entirely. you let out a small sigh, deciding to just give in to the moment. without a word, you shifted and lay back on the grass, eyes fixed on the sky above. the cool blades tickled your skin through geto’s sweatshirt, but it was oddly comforting.

the city lights below seemed less dull from this angle, mingling with the stars in a quiet, understated way. it wasn’t exactly the grand view you expected, but maybe that was okay. gojo glanced down at you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “getting comfy?” he teased lightly, though there was a warmth in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

geto followed suit, stretching out beside you on the grass, his arm brushing against yours, “see? not so bad when you relax a little, huh?” you didn’t bother responding, just stared up at the sky, feeling their presence beside you. maybe they were annoying, but moments like this made it worth it. without looking at them, you let the silence speak for itself, a faint hint of a smile playing on your lips.

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions replaced with ones of fond amusement. they knew they had broken through your initial annoyance, and now they were just enjoying this quiet moment with you.

lying on either side of you, they followed your gaze upward, looking at the stars shining above. the city lights in the distance provided a soft, ambient glow, adding to the peaceful atmosphere. after a moment, gojo chuckled softly, reaching out to playfully poke your side, “you're quiet. that either means you're still annoyed, or you're actually enjoying this.”

you felt geto's arm gently lift your head, and you didn’t resist as he slipped it under, letting it serve as a makeshift pillow. it was warm and oddly comforting, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

you turned your head slightly to glance at gojo, still pouting a little but softened by the quiet peace of the moment. “i mean, it's not the worst,” you admitted, your voice carrying a playful hint of reluctance, “i guess this is... kinda nice.”

gojo grinned, his finger still poking at your side, “i knew you'd come around. you just needed some convincing.” geto chuckled softly, his arm shifting a bit to make sure you were comfortable. “and some decent company,” he added, his voice low and calm. you let out a small huff, but the corner of your lips betrayed you with the slightest upturn. “yeah, yeah. just don't get used to it, you two.”

but even as you said it, you settled more comfortably into geto’s arm, the three of you lying there in the quiet night, enjoying the simple, unexpected pleasure of each other's presence. gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he observed your softening expression. “oh, princess, you can deny it all you want, but we know you’re enjoying this deep down. we just have that effect on you, don’t we?”

geto chimed in, his voice carrying an amused tone. “yeah, and the way you’re snuggling into my arm isn’t exactly subtle, either. it's cute when you act all tough but then can’t resist the charm of your two favorite jerks.” you let out a quiet scoff, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing. as much as you wanted to keep up the act, you couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in your chest at their words. their playful banter, the way they made it a point to draw a smile out of you, it was all annoyingly endearing.

you shifted slightly, making yourself more comfortable against geto’s arm, but you didn’t bother giving them a response. instead, you just gazed up at the sky, letting the sounds of their laughter and the cool breeze fill the silence.

it was one of those rare moments where words weren’t needed. surrounded by the soft glow of city lights and the comforting presence of your two favorite idiots, you found yourself genuinely content, even if you’d never admit it out loud. your scoff lingered in the air, a small sign of your silent surrender to their antics, and in return, they both smiled, satisfied with the quiet victory.

gojo and geto exchanged a knowing smirk, silently pleased with your reaction. they knew they had won this little battle of wills, and the look on your face said it all.

lying there under the starry sky, gojo reached over and gently ruffled your hair. “look at you, all cozy and relaxed. we think you secretly love this little adventure, princess.” geto chuckled softly, his hand idly rubbing small circles on your arm. “yeah, we knew you'd come around and admit that spending time with us isn't so bad after all.”

you glanced between them, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to keep it hidden. their warmth, their teasing, and even their relentless persistence—everything about this moment felt oddly comforting.

“maybe,” you mumbled softly, not quite ready to give them the satisfaction of a full admission, but just enough to let them know that you didn’t entirely hate it. gojo’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening. “we’ll take that ‘maybe’ as a win,” he declared, his tone triumphant.

geto nodded, his gentle touch still lingering on your arm. “yeah, that’s basically a ‘yes’ in your language,” he teased, his voice low and fond. you rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue further, allowing yourself to just soak in the peace of the moment. maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind this little midnight adventure after all.

gojo chuckled, clearly satisfied with your reluctant admission. “see? we knew you couldn’t resist our irresistible charm. you’re secretly a big ol’ softie.” geto’s smile widened at gojo’s words, his hand continuing its soothing circles on your arm. “yeah, deep down, you wouldn’t trade this for anything. admit it.” the two of them looked down at you, their expressions filled with a mix of amusement and affection as they waited for your response.

the quiet of the night settled around the three of you, the cool grass beneath you and the stars above painting a serene backdrop. your eyes stayed fixed on the vast sky, the scattered constellations offering a calm distraction from the earlier banter.

gojo’s finger brushed against yours, a soft and tentative touch, like he was testing the waters, unsure if you’d pull away or let him linger. but you didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just let the gentle contact continue, finding an unexpected comfort in the subtle connection.

geto’s arm under your head provided a steady warmth, his presence equally calming. though neither of them spoke, their proximity and the quiet sounds of their breathing beside you felt like a silent reassurance—an unspoken promise that, despite the teasing and the occasional annoyances, they were right where they wanted to be: by your side.

for once, you didn’t feel the need to complain or roll your eyes. instead, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the moment, the cool breeze, the faint rustle of leaves, and the distant hum of city lights below making everything feel strangely perfect. maybe, you thought, this wasn’t such a bad place to be after all.

gojo and geto continued their subtle touches, silently enjoying the peaceful moment. they could sense that you were relaxed and content, and for once, they didn’t press you to say anything.

gojo's finger gently traced a lazy pattern on the back of your hand, his touch barely perceptible. geto's arm underneath your head held you close, his presence steady and comforting. the night deepened as the three of you lay there under the vast sky, the silence stretching on as if the world had slowed down, just for this moment.

after a while, gojo finally broke the silence, his voice soft and thoughtful, “you know, i never thought I'd say this, but this isn’t too bad.“

geto hummed in agreement, his arm adjusting slightly under your head. “yeah, usually our little adventures involve more chaos and less quiet relaxation.” gojo chuckled quietly, his finger still tracing small circles on your hand. “yeah, usually we’re the ones causing the trouble, not lying in the grass like some peace-loving hippies.”

geto chuckled as well, joining in on the playful banter. “yeah, and you’re usually the one complaining the loudest, princess.”

gojo smirked, lifting his free hand and lightly pinching your cheek. “yeah, but we’ve already established that deep down, you secretly love our annoying antics. that’s why you keep hanging out with us.” you huffed, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing. “please, let’s not pretend i have a choice here. you two are the ones who keep forcing me to hang out. if i ever tried to bail, you’d just terrorize me until i gave in—or worse, have suguru’s rainbow dragon hunt me down.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening. “damn right we’d keep terrorizing you. if we couldn’t win you over with our charm, we’d just resort to pestering you till you said yes.” geto chimed in, a sly smile creeping across his face, “and you know we’d do it too. we don’t give up that easily.” a pause hung in the air as both of them eyed you expectantly, waiting for your response. they knew they had a point, but they also knew you weren't likely to admit that you secretly enjoyed their company.

you sighed, rolling your eyes as their smug expressions continued to linger. “shut up, both of you,” you mumbled, trying to stifle a smile. “can we just enjoy a quiet moment for once without you two yapping your asses off?”

gojo chuckled, but he respected your request, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “alright, alright. we'll give the princess some peace and quiet.”

geto nodded, still grinning but now in silence, his hand gently squeezing yours in acknowledgment. the three of you settled back into a comfortable quiet, the sounds of the city below fading away as you all focused on the stillness of the night, the stars above, and the quiet but undeniable warmth of being together.

as the quiet settled around you once again, a thought occurred to geto. he glanced over at you, his voice quiet but curious. “hey, y/n,” he began. gojo glanced over as well, his eyes fixed on you, anticipating the question. you hummed softly as the answer. geto continued, his tone thoughtful. “have you ever made a wish on a shooting star?”

you stayed silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast expanse of the sky above, tracing the faint outlines of distant stars. the night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional distant hum of the city below. after a brief pause, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. “yeah,” you finally answered, still gazing upwards, “i have.”

gojo perked up, a look of mild surprise on his face. “really?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. geto raised an eyebrow, turning to look at you with a hint of intrigue in his eyes. “huh, i didn't take you for the superstitious type.” you shrugged slightly, still looking up at the sky, “i didn't, but i was pretty desperate at the time.”

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with curiosity. they knew that you weren't one to casually make wishes on shooting stars. “yeah?” gojo prompted, his voice a mix of interest and concern, “what was so desperate that you needed to make a wish on a shooting star?”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you weighed your options. after a long pause, you sighed and looked back up at the sky. “it’s… something i want the most,” you finally said, your voice quiet but honest, “something i didn’t think i could get any other way.”

gojo and geto grew quiet, their expressions turning thoughtful. they could sense the seriousness in your tone and knew that this wasn't a light-hearted request. there was a moment of silence as the two of them exchanged a glance, a silent question passing between them. finally, gojo spoke up again.

“what was it that you wished for?” he asked softly, his voice gentle. you shifted slightly in geto's embrace, feeling his warmth against you as you took a breath. “gentle love,” you admitted softly, the words hanging in the air. there was a brief silence as you all absorbed the weight of your confession.

a quiet laugh escaped your lips, breaking the stillness. “it’s silly, i know,” you muttered, your tone light but a bit self-conscious. “sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, huh?” there was another brief moment of silence as the two of them processed your words. they glanced at each other again, sensing the vulnerability behind your confession.

then, gojo chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “no, it’s not ridiculous,” he reassured, his voice gentle and sincere. geto spoke up as well, his hand gently squeezing yours, “yeah, don’t worry, princess. it’s not silly at all.”

a few moments passed before gojo spoke up again, his voice a little quieter, “can i ask you something?” geto remained silent, his eyes fixed on you, waiting to see where this was going.

again, you softly hummed.

gojo shifted a bit, his eyes locked on yours, “what does ‘gentle love’ mean to you?” geto watched you closely, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. you smiled softly, your eyes drifting to the stars above. “i want gentle love,” you murmured, your voice filled with quiet longing. “that kind of love where he rubs my cheek with his thumb, where he kisses me over and over until we're laughing.”

you continued, your gaze distant as you pictured the tender moments in your mind. “where he uses his fingers to make circles on my hand, kisses my shoulder when i’m looking away, tucks my hair behind my ears, and kisses my forehead.”

a wistful sigh escaped your lips. “long hugs, rubbing my back when i lay on his chest… where he treats me like i'm delicate.” you paused, feeling the weight of your own words, before a small smile tugged at your lips, almost as if you were lost in a sweet daydream.

gojo and geto listened intently, their expressions soft as you described your yearning for gentle love. they could hear the earnest desire in your voice, the way your words painted a picture of quiet, tender affection.

there was a moment of silence as they took in your description, before gojo broke it. “that all sounds really nice,” he offered, his voice gentle. geto hummed in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you. “yeah, it does,” he said quietly, his hand giving yours a slight squeeze.bgojo shifted again, watching you closely. “have you... ever received that kind of love before?” he asked, his voice soft but curious. geto stayed silent, knowing that gojo's question might touch a nerve.

you glanced at gojo, your eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at his question. a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head gently. “no,” you admitted, your voice carrying a tinge of vulnerability. “that’s why i’m desperate.”

your words hung in the cool night air, the soft glow of the city lights in the distance reflecting the quiet longing in your heart. you felt gojo and geto's gazes on you, their expressions a mix of empathy and something unspoken, but you just kept your eyes on the sky, the stars above feeling like the only witness to your wish.

the three of you fell into a brief silence again as your words settled in. gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting to show a mix of understanding and concern.

gojo was the first to speak up, his voice a bit softer than usual. “but why does it have to be a shooting star? why not just...” he trailed off, not quite sure how to finish his thought. geto picked up where he left off, his voice equally soft. “yeah, why not just find someone who can give you that gentle love?”

you gently nudged gojo's chest, a soft smile tugging at your lips as he lay beside you. “i told you i was desperate,” you said, a light chuckle following your words. “when you want something that badly, you'll do anything— even something as silly as wishing on a shooting star.”

turning your head slightly, you meet geto's eyes, your smile fading into something more contemplative. “it’s not that easy,” you admitted, your voice a bit quieter. “finding someone who truly understands that kind of love… it feels impossible sometimes.” you let out a small sigh, your gaze drifting back up to the sky.

gojo and geto didn’t have a response to that. they could feel the weight of your hopeless feeling, the resignation that crept into your voice.

geto's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly, a silent reassurance that he was listening. gojo, meanwhile, found himself unable to find anything to say that would ease the heaviness in the air. after a few moments of silence, gojo finally spoke up, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of disbelief. “how could it be impossible? you're not that difficult to love.”

your heart quickened at gojo’s words, a flicker of warmth spreading through the ache you’d long carried. for as long as you could remember, you’d believed you were harder to love—your parents’ dismissiveness and constant comparisons to your siblings only cemented that belief. but hearing gojo say that, even in his casual tone, felt like a balm to your wounded heart.

you turned your head slightly, catching gojo’s gaze. his eyes were sincere, a quiet intensity in them that told you he meant every word. something shifted in your chest, a mix of hope and disbelief, and for a moment, you found yourself struggling to find the right response. all you could manage was a small, genuine smile, the weight of your unspoken fears still hanging between you but just a little lighter now. “thanks,” you finally whispered, the simple word carrying all the gratitude and vulnerability you couldn’t quite voice.

gojo smiled back, his eyes meeting yours. he could tell that his words had touched a chord in you, and despite the lighthearted tone of his comment, he meant it. geto, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stayed quietly beside you, his arm still wrapped around you, his presence a gentle reassurance.

gojo's expression softened as he continued to look at you, his voice warm. “you really have no idea how lovable you are, do you?” gojo leaned closer, propping himself up on his elbow. his eyes never left yours, the sincerity in them more intense than before. he gently pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

when he pulled back, his expression was filled with a mix of affection and gentle confidence. “as your upperclassman, i can guarantee it—loving you is as easy as a snap of the fingers.” he snapped his fingers playfully, a warm smile spreading across his face, the kind that reached his eyes and made you feel seen and cherished in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

geto watched from beside you, a smile playing on his lips as he observed the tenderness in gojo’s actions. he had seen gojo in many moods—arrogant, playful, and careless—but this version of him, the one who was gentle and sincere, was reserved for rare moments like these.

as gojo pulled back from his affectionate gesture, geto spoke up softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, but also a genuine fondness. “he’s right, you know,” he added, glancing at you. “loving you might just be the easiest thing people can do.”

you smiled, the warmth from their words seeping into your chest, filling it with a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. “aww, thank you, guys,” you said, your tone playful but laced with sincerity. “aren't you the sweetest when you're not being annoying and acting like assholes?”

gojo chuckled at your light-hearted response, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated annoyance. “i'm always sweet,” he protested, feigning offense. “you're just too dense to see it most of the time.”

geto chuckled as well, his arm tightening around you very slightly. “oh, please,” he chimed in, his smirk playful, “you're nothing more than a loud-mouthed annoyance most days, and we all know it.”

as gojo let out an exaggerated gasp of outrage and opened his mouth to protest, you chuckle. “oh c’mon, don’t deny it,” you teased. “we all know you’re a pain in the ass more than you're a sweetheart.” gojo looked like he was about to argue, but then he huffed and crossed his arms, a small pout on his face. “you're both so mean to me,” he muttered, clearly not taking the banter too seriously.

geto chuckled warmly at gojo's mock sulk, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. he couldn't help but join in on picking on his friend. “well, we wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so full of yourself all the time,” he pointed out, his smirk widening. gojo huffed in faux indignation, his pout deepening. “i am not full of myself. i'm just confident. there's a difference, you know?”

you chimed in again, your smile widening as gojo continued to pout. “yeah, that’s what happens when you act like a big brat all the time. you reap what you sow,” you agreed with geto's.

gojo's pout turned into a full-on frown at your words, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “hey, i do not act like a brat,” he protested, his voice edging on a whine.

geto, sensing an opportunity to tease him further, couldn't resist chiming in again. “oh, but you do,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “you act like a spoiled little kid who's always demanding attention.” gojo's frown deepened as geto continued to dig into his ego. “i do not demand attention,” he argued, his voice rising slightly.

geto chuckled, not taking gojo's protests seriously. “oh, yes, you do. you're like a needy little puppy, always wanting to be noticed and fussed over.” you chuckled softly, shaking your head at their banter. watching them bicker like this was like witnessing a comedy routine unfold right before your eyes. “you guys are ridiculous,” you mumbled, amusement dancing in your voice.

leaning back on the grass, you glanced up at the sky again, still smiling. it was moments like these—lighthearted, carefree, and full of laughter—that made you cherish their presence even more. “but, honestly, i wouldn’t have it any other way,” you added, your voice soft but sincere, appreciating the warmth they brought to your life, even through their antics.

geto and gojo paused in their banter for a moment, their eyes shifting to you as you leaned back against the grass, looking up at the stars. gojo’s expression softened, his pout replaced by a small smile. he caught your eye for a second, his gaze warm and genuine.

geto's smile mirrored gojo's, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “yeah, same here,” he echoed your sentiment, his voice carrying a hint of affection that was as sincere as yours.

they fell into a brief silence as they all soaked in the peaceful surroundings. the laughter and light-hearted banter from moments ago had given way to a comfortable quiet, the only sounds being the distant sounds of the city and the gentle rustling of the grass. after a few moments, gojo spoke up again, his voice softer now. “you know, i really mean it,” he said, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

you glanced over at gojo, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. his sudden shift in tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you wondered what he was getting at. “mean what?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity as you tried to piece together what he was referring to.

the sincerity in his expression was unusual, and it made you slightly uneasy, unsure of where the conversation was headed. you turned your attention fully to him, your brow furrowing slightly as you waited for him to elaborate.

gojo's gaze shifted from the stars to you. he could sense the confusion and curiosity in your eyes, and it made his heart clench slightly. it was unusual for him to be this serious, and he knew you must be wondering what was on his mind.

he paused for a moment, his normally lighthearted gaze now filled with a sincerity that made it all the more impactful. “i meant what i said earlier,” he clarified, his voice low but genuine, “about loving you being the easiest thing.”

your breath caught at his words, the sincerity in his tone making your heart flutter. it was rare for gojo to be this earnest, and it threw you off balance, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond—his words were so simple, yet they carried a weight that settled deeply in your chest.

you glanced away, focusing on the stars again, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. “you’re really something, satoru,” you mumbled softly, your voice betraying a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “i’m not used to hearing stuff like that.”

you glanced back at him briefly, catching the warm, reassuring look in his eyes, and felt your walls soften just a little more, “but… thank you. that means a lot.” gojo's heart warmed at your genuine reaction to his words. he could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the way his sincere comments had thrown you off guard. it was a new side of you that he hadn't seen before.

he smiled back, his eyes soft, watching as you looked away and back at the stars. as you thanked him and admitted you weren't used to hearing those words, he reached over and gently tugged on a strand of your hair, playful yet affectionate.

“you deserve to hear it more often,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of a promise. geto had been quietly listening, allowing gojo his moment with you. he observed the tender exchange, the way your guard was slowly lowering with each sincere word. he could see the impact of gojo’s words on you, the way your cheeks flushed slightly and your eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

he smiled softly, his hand still on your shoulder, a silent witness to the intimate conversation unfolding between the two of you. gojo watched as geto remained silent, his presence a steady, comforting presence behind you. gojo could practically feel geto's eyes on the two of you. he knew geto was observing, listening to the conversation unfold.

he turned his attention back to you, his gaze soft and affectionate. he was enjoying this moment, this rare opportunity to be open and vulnerable without his usual pretense.

“you really should get used to hearing it,” he repeated, his voice low and sincere. “everyone should be telling you how lovable you are all the time.” as gojo spoke again, his voice dripping with sincerity, geto could see your expression soften further. you were visibly affected by his words, struggling to process the compliments and vulnerability he was expressing.

he took a moment to observe you, the way your walls were slowly crumbling under gojo’s gentle yet firm persistence. it was a sight to behold, seeing someone so used to closing themselves off slowly opening up due to another’s affection.

you let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you—gratitude, vulnerability, and a touch of disbelief. pushing yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at the landscape stretched out before you, the city lights twinkling in the distance against the inky night sky.

with a small, almost wistful smile, you murmured, “eh, the view isn’t so bad,” your tone light but carrying an undercurrent of meaning. gojo propped himself up next to you, his eyes following your gaze to the cityscape in the distance. he chuckled lightly at your comment, understanding the double meaning behind your words.

“told ya,” he teased, a playful grin on his face. he could see the vulnerable expression you tried to hide beneath your light tone, and it made his heart clench slightly. geto, still laying behind you, noticed the exchange and smiled, his hand still gently rubbing your shoulder, a silent show of reassurance.

you glanced at the sky one more time before sighing softly, feeling the weight of the moment lingering between the three of you. shifting slightly, you gave them a small smile, trying to mask the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

“we should probably get going,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled. “it's already so late.”

you started to push yourself up, brushing off the bits of grass clinging to your clothes. the quiet warmth of their company was something you’d savor, but you weren’t quite ready to linger in this vulnerability for much longer. as you stood, you glanced down at them, catching the way gojo’s playful grin softened and how geto’s reassuring smile never wavered. despite the lateness, you knew they’d both follow you anywhere, no questions asked.

as you started to stand up, gojo and geto exchanged a quick, knowing glance. they could sense your need to break the moment, to reestablish some distance after the vulnerability that had been revealed.

gojo pushed himself up after you, his grin now more gentle than playful. “yeah, let’s head back,” he agreed, his voice soft yet understanding. geto got up as well, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer before he dropped it, the reassuring smile still on his face. “we still have class tomorrow,” he reminded playfully.

geto's eyes caught sight of his sweatshirt hanging loosely over your shoulders, and his expression softened even more. with a gentle shake of his head, he stepped closer, his hands already moving to adjust it. “you should wear this properly,” he murmured, his tone filled with that familiar mix of fondness and care. “don't want you catching a cold, do we?”

he carefully slipped the sleeves over your arms, his touch gentle but firm as he pulled it snug around you. he took an extra moment to make sure it fit comfortably, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulders. “there,” he said with a satisfied nod, his smile growing as he looked at you. “better, right?”

the gesture was small but filled with the kind of quiet affection that spoke louder than words, leaving no doubt in your mind that, even in the simplest actions, geto's care for you ran deep. as geto tugged the sleeves of the sweatshirt into place and adjusted it around you, gojo watched the exchange quietly, his gaze flicking between you both.

he couldn't help but notice the tenderness in geto’s touch, the way he took the time to ensure the hoodie fit perfectly around you. the gesture was subtle, a silent expression of care and connection.

he could see the effect it had on you, the way you subtly relaxed under geto’s touch, a small smile tugging at your lips. gojo couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify.

as you turned to face the descent, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, the thought of trekking down the hill already wearing you out. “ugh, i can’t believe we have to walk all the way down,” you groaned, rubbing your face with your hands in mock despair.

gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, catching up beside you. “come on, it’s not that bad,” he teased, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he found your frustration endearing.

geto, ever the considerate one, stepped closer and gently squeezed your shoulder. “if you’re really that tired, we can take it slow,” he offered, his voice warm and patient. “or, you know, we could always carry you,” he added with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you just a bit.

your exaggerated sigh and whine about the walk were met with gojo’s amused chuckle, his eyes sparkling with playful understanding.

“you’re so dramatic,” he teased, his tone light, “as if a little walk is too much for you.”

geto’s gentle offer to take it slow or carry you was made with a sincere concern for your tiredness, and he tacked on the playful comment, clearly enjoying himself. his smirk hinted at his mischievousness, but you knew he was only half-joking.

you turned to them with a dramatic huff, hands on your hips as you eyed them both expectantly. “alright, so which one of you is going to be a gentleman and carry me down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, demanding.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick glance, both of them trying and failing to conceal the grins that were pulling at the corners of their lips. they knew you were being playful, putting on a dramatic display to get your way, and they both knew they’d willingly play along.

gojo stepped closer, putting on an air of mock-exasperation. “oh, you and your demands,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful fondness. “don’t you know princesses should be carried on their prince’s strong arms?”

geto chuckled at gojo’s playfully exaggerated response, watching the two of you banter. he couldn’t help but join in, his eyes glittering with mirth. “that’s true,” he agreed, his grin widening. “princesses shouldn’t have to walk on such lovely little legs when they have princes to carry them.”

he took a step closer, his own eagerness to play along evident, his voice laced with a hint of anticipation. “so i guess that means neither of us can resist the call of chivalry, huh?” you straightened up, placing a hand on your hip and lifting your chin like a royal decree was about to be made. “alright, peasant,” you declared, putting on your best princess voice from centuries past, “carry me on your back, and make haste!”

with a dramatic flourish, you patted geto's back as if commanding him into service, a playful glint in your eyes as you stifled a laugh. gojo and geto both burst into quiet laughter at your haughty princess command, clearly amused by your overdramatic attempt at regal authority.

geto, playing along with theatrical flair, quickly dipped into a low, exaggerated bow, his hand over his heart. “as you wish, my delightful little princess,” he responded, his tone dripping with mock subservience. without warning, he quickly stepped in front of you, grabbing your legs and effortlessly hoisting you up onto his back, holding you securely with strong, steady hands.

as the three of you began your descent down the hill, the cool night air was refreshing against your skin. the path was well-trodden and easy to navigate, flanked by the soft, undulating grass of the field below. the grass field stretched out like a sea of green, dotted occasionally with wildflowers that added splashes of color to the landscape.

the distant city lights twinkled like stars on the horizon, creating a warm, ambient glow that contrasted with the dark, expansive sky above. the serene, peaceful atmosphere was broken only by the soft rustling of the grass and the occasional chirp of nocturnal insects.

as you made your way down, the gentle slope of the hill provided a smooth, relaxed descent. the night was clear, with the moon casting a soft, silvery light over the surroundings, making the walk both picturesque and tranquil. the cool breeze carried with it a sense of calm, adding to the overall peacefulness of the moment.

the atmosphere around the three of you was a picture-perfect moment of tranquility as you made your way down the hill, the landscape bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

gojo strode along beside you and geto, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his gaze occasionally drifting from the landscape to you, seated comfortably on geto’s back. his eyes were soft, his lips curled into a subtle smile. geto, meanwhile, was enjoying the feeling of you on his back, your warmth and weight a comfortable presence as he navigated the downward slope.

as you reached the bottom of the hill, you gave geto a playful squeeze, your voice light but with a hint of genuine reluctance. “you know, now that i’m all comfy on your back, i’m not so sure i want to walk to the dorm anymore,” you said with a teasing tone.

as you squeezed geto playfully, your words filled with both lightheartedness and genuine reluctance, he let out a low laugh, his back rumbling faintly beneath you. he kept his grip on your legs steady, his hands warm against your skin.

“oh, so you’re going to be a spoiled princess and demand to be carried the rest of the way?” he teased, his voice filled with playfulness and amusement, “it’s not that far, princess. you could at least walk the last bit.”

you shook your head with a playful smile, resting your cheek comfortably against geto's back. “nope,” you murmured softly, your voice muffled but clear. "i’m perfectly comfy here. i think i’ll just enjoy the ride until we get to the dorm."

geto chuckled at your stubborn refusal, continuing to carry you despite the lighthearted bickering. you were warm and cozy, pressed against his back, and he couldn’t deny that there was a certain charm to the current situation.

“oh, so you’re just going to hog my back the whole way,” he teased, a note of playfulness in his tone. “and what if i get tired of hauling your spoiled princess butt the rest of the way?” you chuckled softly, snuggling closer against his back. “oh, you won’t get tired,” you teased back. “with all those muscles of yours, it’d be pretty shameful if you couldn't carry a little weight. i’m just making sure you get to show off those muscles of yours.”

a small grin tugged at the corner of geto's lips at your teasing. he chuckled as he felt you snuggle closer against his back, your words stirring a competitive spark in him.

“oh, so that’s what you’re doing,” he responded, his tone dripping with mock-indignation. “what a spoiled little princess.” he adjusted his grip on your legs, hoisting you up slightly to ensure a more secure hold.

as the three of you continued walking, the light banter between you and geto carried on. he chuckled at your response, his heart feeling a slight flutter at your casual affection.

gojo, walking beside you both, listened to the soft back-and-forth banter. he could see the playfulness and affection between you and geto, and despite the mild sting of something unfamiliar in his chest, he couldn’t help being glad to see geto’s guard drop so easily and naturally around you.

he chuckled under his breath, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “you’re both incorrigible,” he teased, shaking his head. “suguru's going to end up with a sore back by the time we get to the dorm.” you raised your eyebrows playfully at gojo, giving him a smirk. “well, i didn’t see you volunteering to carry me,” you replied, your tone light, “so, you don’t really get a say in this. suguru’s the one who’s earning all the glory right now.”

as the banter continued, gojo’s eyes flickered to geto, his expression tinged with affectionate mockery. he knew geto was enjoying every second of this, playing the role of your personal chariot without complaint.

he felt another pang in his chest as he watched you cling to geto, a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name swirling in his gut. he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on keeping the lighthearted banter going.

the three of you walked through the empty streets, the world wrapped in the stillness of three in the morning. the city’s usual hum was replaced by the soft glow of streetlights, casting gentle shadows that danced around your feet. laughter drifted between you, light and unburdened, as if the night itself had been holding its breath just to witness this moment of pure, unguarded joy.

you rested comfortably on geto’s back, your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. his steps were steady, each one a silent promise of support, and you could feel the warmth of his quiet laughter vibrate through your own chest. beside you, gojo walked with a carefree ease, his presence as bright and effervescent as the stars that dotted the night sky above. every now and then, he’d throw a playful nudge at geto or toss a teasing remark your way, drawing out your sleepy giggles that lingered in the cool night air.

the moon watched over you, a silent guardian of your little trio, its silvery light bathing the world in a soft, dreamlike glow. the cool breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of grass and the faint promise of morning, yet the three of you lingered in this serene slice of time, as if the dawn could wait just a little longer.

beneath your light-hearted banter, there was an unspoken understanding between gojo and geto—a quiet vow that settled in their hearts as they looked at you nestled so comfortably on geto’s back. they saw the softness in your eyes, the vulnerability you often tried to hide behind sarcasm and dramatics, and they knew. they knew that more than anything, you deserved the kind of love that was steady, gentle, and unwavering. a love that would cradle your heart through every midnight adventure, every shared laugh, and every silent moment where words were unnecessary.

you didn’t notice the fleeting exchange of glances between them, the silent promise etched in their eyes. but as you finally approached your dorm, the walls of your tiredness gave way to a sense of peace. you were surrounded by a warmth that went beyond the physical, a warmth that felt like home in the company of the two who had somehow become your everything.

and as they watched you start to drift off, your head resting lightly against geto’s shoulder, they made a vow—to be the ones who’d always carry you when you were too tired to walk, to share in your laughter and chase away your fears, and to love you in the way you deserved: gently, endlessly, and with all the quiet strength they could muster. it was a promise woven into the fabric of the night, delicate and unbreakable, as eternal as the stars above.

[greensagephase]

yall, I'm about to share something a little bit ... eerie?? Because why not, plus it's spoopy season 🎃

tw: witchcraft but like nothing serious (I hope not)??, owls, a dream I had, animal body parts in my dream; I connected the dream to Miguel somehow 😭

Okay, so idk if you guys believe in witchcraft but... I do 😭 I've always heard that owls are apparently bad luck and used for this stuff, but I never cared about owls apparently being "evil" or something (same with kitties).

I actually love owls -- I think they're cute despite how dangerous they can be. I even used to have a handmade tote bag I sewed back in 7th grade with owl printed fabric for one of my classes because I loved them so much (I still do), anyway - I have never seen an owl in person nor had I heard one irl in my whole life until about three weeks ago when one was somewhere near my bedroom window at about 2am.

It creeped me out so much because it lowkey sounded like someone was crying in a way?? And I think it kept moving around because it would sound close and then further away, but at the same time close by?? Idk, but I was stressing out because of it and my dog (I have a dog named Rufo) because he could hear it, too, and he was barking like crazy. My poor baby and I were anxious 😓

Moving on, I live with my parents (the economy is tough and also different cultures have different expectations/traditions, like not leaving your home until you get married) and my mom happened to still be awake at that time watching some Turkish telenovela while working on crafts 😭🤣 well, I went to her and she asked why Rufo was barking like crazy and I told her that I kept hearing an owl. I think my mom could see I was actually a bit scared, startled, anxious and also, she believes in witchcraft, too because of some stuff, so she came to my bedroom to try and hear it from there. After her failing to hear it from my window, we went outside to the front porch and just stood there for a bit, like for a minute or two. My mom asked if I could hear it, which I confirmed. The weird thing (or maybe not so weird, who knows??) is that the owl stopped like 30 seconds later after we stepped out and I didn't hear it for the rest of the night.

My mom ended up lighting some candles once we went back inside and told me to cover my ears with some cotton balls, which I did. My dog finally calmed down, too. Half an hour later, or so, I fell asleep after watching some YouTube to calm myself 💀💀

The next day you know what my mom tells me?? She didn't hear ANYTHING despite me clearly hearing it when we went outside. Her hearing is good, so I was like what do you mean????? I lowkey was questioning myself after that, but then I remembered my dog's reaction and I felt comforted by that because that meant I didn't make it up somehow.

My mom called my grandma to tell her about it and *something* else because they both know *stuff* (I'm sorry, I'm trying not to share too much, but I've grown up being told witchcraft is real; also just to clear up, neither my mom nor my grandma, or me, are witches), so anyway, that was a few weeks ago.

Well, last night I heard it AGAIN!! I decided to ignore it this time, which was easy to do because it was further away from the house and my dog couldn't hear it, so no barking. I went to sleep without any issues. This morning, I told my mom and she said she thought she heard it, but since she was, once again, watching her Turkish telenovela and I didn't say anything, she continued on with her activities.

The thing is, I had a dream and it was a bit weird and creepy because of one specific thing, and I can't help but wonder if it has to do with the owl...??? Idk, but in the dream my grandma was there, one of my aunts who I haven't seen in like 15 years since I was last in MX for our visit, and one female acquaintance. For some reason, this last woman pulled out chicken legs 😭😭??? which was the creepy part about this dream!! She positioned the chicken legs in a way to show me a specific length and for some freaking reason they were talking about me marrying, so this woman said to look at the length and that that's how long my future husband's hands would be, which was pretty long. My aunt ended up adding, "se va a casar con un gigante [she's going to get married with a giant]" and that's where my dream ended.

I told my mom about the dream after she told me she thought she heard the owl, too, and she said nothing. She just stared at me before she said she needed to go to her room, so idk if maybe the owl has some significance ??

Besides the chicken legs, I thought my aunt's comment was funny because... have you guessed it? I thought about Miguel and how we always say he's a giant and the length the lady showed me was about Miguel's hand size lmaoo

So that's it, but man, the first time I heard the owl a few weeks ago actually left me a little freaked out, but I still love owls. Anyway... that's it. I thought it'd be fun to share since it's October 🍁🎃

[tobiasdrake]

Halara's turn for one final hangout sesh. Hopefully they won't break my kneecaps for failure to pay my debt.

Public space. This is good. It's hard to murder me in a public space. Then again, this is the same cafe where Fubuki drowned half of the clientele, and they still speak of her in glowing terms as the greatest barista that this place has ever known. So.

Oh shit, that is what this conversation is about. Look, if you give me a few more days, I can arrange for travel out of town. And then it won't be a problem anymore! For me. Specifically.

That's not true. I have a great plan. A fantastic plan, as a matter of fact. My plan is to hope the collapse of civilization happens soon and wipes out my debt so that I no longer have to repay it. Like most people struggling under late-stage capitalism!

My backup plan is to eventually die, causing all of my lenders to get screwed. *smug*

Because this is an elaborate ruse to justify a social call. Halara doesn't have friends. They have debtors. And they don't hang out with debtors. They meet to discuss the debt with their debtors.

Notice how they didn't answer the question? "Why are we meeting to discuss the debt in the cafe instead of the office?" was the question, but Halara explained the unbolded part which was never in question to begin with. They're waffling around the subject.

*nods sagely* Ah, of course. The Neo World Program.

Wait, no, what are you talking about? What kind of program is it? Like a social program? Magnifying glasses for tots?

OH MY GOD I LOVE IT.

Of course. Of course this is about cats. What else would it be about besides cats? Cats are Halara's hyperfixation. I love it. I'm about it.

I love this side of them. They shake people down for money so they can privately fund a feline rescue program. That's the best kind of awful.

Gentrification would hit different if the mafia was chasing you out of your home to build a wildlife refuge. Or an animal shelter. Or one of those puppy therapy places where you heal people's trauma by playing with cute baby animals.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Halara has put me into financial debt to fund their kitty dreams. And now, as a sincere gesture of our growing friendship, they've asked me to one day inherit their emotional debt to cats as a concept.

Asking the important question here. You're not offering me something; You're requesting that I take on your burden.

Okay but still. Does it, though? C'mon, Finance Them-slice. Meet me at the negotiating table here.

It's so hard to say "You are my friend and I value you" in too cool for this room language. Halara is attempting to have an intimate moment without compromising their hard-forged image and it is not going well.

And now that this incredibly awkward moment is here, they flee back to the comforting shelter of our meeting ruse. ^_^ Sure, buddy-pal, I'll get on that once of these days.

Can you imagine how heartbroken Halara would be if Yuma did somehow manage to pay his debt? How would we ever hang out together if they didn't have this excuse they could make for it?

I did not like Halara when we first met. Matter of fact, I accused them of murder. Said a lot of unkind things about them in the process. But they've grown on me a lot as I've gotten to know them and see behind the veil.

Suffice it to say, it's not that I don't like Halara but rather that I don't like Halara's persona. There's a genuinely interesting person hiding beneath the theatricism of a callous, unfeeling capitalist. They pretend to be a much shittier person than they actually are. Not unlike Desuhiko, as a matter of fact.

Fubuki's still my bestie but Halara's become my favorite character. Assuming the Master Detectives don't get killed off in a bloodbath of a finale, Halara's the one I'd be most interested in seeing a "Where do they go from here?" sort of sequel for.

The fact that they're our team's #1 cop-smasher helps too. I could watch Halara take apart Peacekeepers all day.

[your-local-neighborhood-nerd]

BBC GHOSTS S5 CHRISTMAS SPOILERS AHEAD

So uhm

MAT BAYNTON AND JIM HOWICK DID BEN MFING WILLBOND POSSESS YOU TWO?! I BET HE GHOSTWROTE THIS EPISODE (pun not intended but very welcome)

- I knew from the start that this would have a bittersweet ending, and I knew it was something with Alison and Mike somehow leaving the house or the ghosts getting sucked off, but it still hits, y'know? (Although I'm glad no one got sucked off/moved on because I feel like that would have hurt more than anything)

- I've been seeing a few posts that this wasn't the best episode, and I totally agree. There was something kind of. .lacking? I don't know if that was intentional because of that mellow buildup to the end of the episode but yeah

- But I do love the scene where the ghosts realized they were just as bad as Betty, because that was when I realized where this episode was heading- SO I STARTED CRYING

- Wonderful PatCap in this episode though, I must say

- In my opinion, I really didn't like Kitty's jealousy storyline. I feel like over time in Button House while the Coopers lived there, she would have matured to at least be aware of *gestures to the baby*

- We got a double entendre Fanny joke from Cap, always love those

- THEN FANNY SAYING SHE SEES ALISON AS A DAUGHTER HELLO??? CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

- Speaking of character development, all of the ghosts have grown so much. First, they wanted Alison out, not wanting to do anything with her or Mike. They all wanted to be alone (aka just be with each other). Then it transforms into something beautiful, they all become a family for the course of however many years. They've all had their moments, and it all comes full circle, the ghosts telling Alison that it's for the best that the Coopers leave, not out of malice, but out of love.

- Seeing elderly Mike and Alison was just a personal attack ISTGGGGG

- And then the very last scene is with Robin's monologue. The ghost that's been there the longest, the ghost that didn't feel the Christmas spirit at the start of the episode, ends it all off.

But of course, I count on the Six Idiots, my favorite group of writers/actors, to make me cry

Goodbye BBC Ghosts <3

[johnnysslaughter]

@cannib4l from x

there  had  been  an  aura  of  mystery  surrounding  johnny  and  kitty  was  absolutely  enamored  by  it.  he  had  been  sweet  and  charming,  which  was  a  nice  change  from  the  verbal  abuse  she  suffered  at  the  mouth  of  her  father.  kitty  didn't  blame  her  father  for  being  that  way,  she  had  learned  long  ago  how  to  minimize  the  abuse,  but  still,  it  was  difficult  to  avoid  it  completely.  kitty  always  saw  the  good  in  things,  never  letting  the  negativity  get  the  best  of  her.  when  it  did  try,  she  would  spend  hours  at  church,  praying  endlessly  until  she  felt  better. kitty  smiled  at  johnny's  words,  shaking  her  head.  "  i  don't  think  you  havin'  seconds  is  misbehavin'  johnny.  "  her  father  had  been  working  late,  which  meant  she  would  have  had  dinner  all  by  her  lonesome.  that  was  until  she  got  the  courage  to  call  johnny  and  invite  him  over  to  dinner. "  heck,  i'll  even  let  you  have  thirds  and  fourths,  but  then  they'd  be  no  room  for  my  fresh  apple  pie.  "

sometimes, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. how such a sentiment holds true, even now, with the surprise offer of dinner. had told his ma he had somewhere to be, so she didn't worry too much. ( not like she worried much anymore now that her baby boy's all grown & can handle his own just fine ). johnny wasn't the type to turn down free food. & by god, was he lucky to get a meal like this. it was even luckier that her pops wasn't gonna be home, that she wanted his company.

it feels impolite, the way he couldn't help but to grab seconds. couldn't help but tease that he's misbehaving but going in for more. johnny's toothy grin perched cheek to cheek, feeling the rumble of his stomach -- as though on cue -- as much as it is heard. johnny couldn't help but to laugh as a result, letting his laugh come out in low rumbles.

❛ oh, trust me, i'm sure misbehavin'. this food is too good not to get seconds, ❜ he compliments, taking a bite out of his food, second plate. he hums happily at the taste. would taste better with a little more iron & a little more guts. ❛ i love me some good ol' homecookin'. always got 'nough stomach for it. it tastes wonderful, ❜ the mention of apple pie perks him up. like she somehow knew, but didn't.

❛ now, y' tryin' to win my heart, ain't you, babydoll? i love me some apple pie. my ma & aunt, they like to bake all sorts of stuff like that. just happened to be a pie guy. was it a lucky guess? ❜ innocent teasing, his eyes squint at her -- with a playful meaning behind it -- before they relax. ❛ means i gotta leave some room now, don't it? ❜

[i-cant-sing]

I would like your input on this idea that's been floating in my dome. Baby fushiguro grows into young adult and they somehow find a lover without the zenin clan knowledge and gets engaged. She thinks that maybe that since she has grown perhaps uncle Noaya would AT LEAST see how happy they are and maybe eventually give his blessing.......SIKE BITCH HELL NAH

*young adult fushiguro introduces fiancé*

Uncle Noaya: He's hideous and poor, wont be able to take care of my bby...

*young adult fushiguro shows off ring*

Uncle Noaya: Thats such a small diamond! My bby needs a boulder diamond, see honey he doesnt love you, you deserve someone better!

*young adult fushiguro shows the proposal video*

Uncle Noaya: Where's the parade? Where's the fireworks? Where is the Tier 1 band playing in the background? He's not even proposing on top of the world! Honey look he doesn't even have any Hello Kitty shops owned! You need to break up with him before he takes you away from your Hello Kitty obsession because he'll get so needy!

(Btw sorry if this is long and might look like a request but I'm sorta new and just cant tell the difference between writing a ask or a request)

10000000% true because Naoya really doesn't think anybody is good for you. The only thing you got wrong is that:

1. He'd never be so nice about it and praise you for being superior to your fiance.

2. He'd much rather die than admit that he remembers the name of the pink hellish cat you're obsessed with.

Imagine reader being super nervous as she brings her fiance to the Zenin estate. It was already very hard dating him secretly, but now you felt like you were gonna fight one of the biggest curses of your life. Even that seemed easier than this.

Your fiance was confident that he'd win their hearts, he rubbed your back and assured you that you have nothing to worry about. But he doesn't know your family, he doesn't know how crazy they are.

You and your fiance sat across from your family. He was talking to them about how serious he is about you, how he'd make sure nothing ever upsets you, how he'd happily give up his life for you, all lovey dovey things. He had charmed up your aunties and other females of the family, but the men were a whole another story. They were glaring at him with distrusting eyes, loathing him for daring to steal your heart and plague your naive mind.

But they saw how happy you looked, how you beamed when your fiance held your hand, how you blushed when he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You were truly happy.

So as much as they hated the thought of someone kissing you and plaguing your innocence, they'd put up with it solely because you're happier than you've ever been.

They even do a background check on him, and he checks out. They've all accepted them, well- almost all of them.

Naoya is still in denial that you've dated someone, much less accepted someone's proposal. How had you been able to keep this charade up for years, right under his nose, is beyond him.

So, when you look to him for approval with those big doe eyes, it's really easy for him to say "Absolutely not." to you before leaving. You run after him, begging him to change his mind but all Naoya can think about is how that rat is gonna take you away and do disgusting things to you and traumatise you forever because clearly, no one else can protect you and love you like he does. All men are trash, all except him.

How tf is he supposed to let someone take away the child he raised himself? Youre his pride and joy, the only one to make him soft, the biggest pain in the ass, but you're his pain in the ass.

He simply won't let anyone take you.

Y/n: give me 1 good reason why I can't marry him-

Naoya, pulling out a list: he's too poor, so he can't maintain your lifestyle and will make you a poverty stricken child again. He's also very ugly, so he's not gonna give you good looking kids and he's not really handsome enough for the Zenin clan image. Also, you're stupid and naive to even date such an idiot in the first place-

Y/n: really? These are your reasons. They're ridiculous.

Naoya: ridiculous? They're absolutely valid-

Y/n: no, they're not. You're just jealous because no body wants to marry you.

Naoya:

Y/n:

Naoya:

Y/n: ugly ass ho-

Your poor s/o is just really confused when he comes for you, only to find you and your uncle Naoya fighting (more like Naoya putting you in chokehold while you pull hard at his hair) with each other.

[sm-baby]

It didn’t fit in a comment but ah

Does the bebe Winston say “oh bless your heart” to the kittens cause he heard it from his mama?

I never met a southern child that didn’t somehow either pick up and hug a raccoon or squirrel or obtain a horse in some way and no I’m not kidding I had a pet raccoon named Dusky for two years until i had to let em go meanwhile my cousin just found a horse and took it in still has her to this day in fact now she has 3 horses

Landkskfndnf and that thing that all southern children do which is collect tadpoles and name them all weird names like Todd and Mumbles Mcflare or Buddy or even Snickerdoodle Twinkle Star- real name my cousins decided for a tadpole they yoinked from a pond

Does the child have one of those “Token Southern Kid Nicknames” like I was Curly for my hair, my neighbor was Tadpole and her sister was Two-Bit, two roads down Aunt Wanda- who isn’t related to us at all- named the child who was originally Holly into Kitty and her sister into Blondie i swear none of us were called by actual names that I knew of

Omg does winston call Bernard “Uncle Bernie” because every southern kid does that thing where you’re not even related to the adult but they’re trusted or trustworthy so they are given the “Uncle/Aunt” title but aunt is pronounced “a-wnt” for some reason

YES. YES WINSTON TAKING CARE OF COFFEE WHILE SILVIA'S AT WORK YES IM ACCEPTING THIS

With the tadpole talk, you're making me think that Winston's familiar is a frog 👀 like he grows to appreciate getting dirty as a kid and is just catching frogs with his wife.... FROG FAMILIAR 🐸

DAWG, I WOULD LOVE WINSTON TO HAVE ONE OF THOSE NICKNAMES- im not southern tho so maybe you could help me with it uwu though we used to call my baby sister "Kitty"

Winston doesn't meet Bernard until he's a full grown adult! He is fatherless tho so he- he gets attached to him- so yeah- Uncle Bernie is- a go-

[jayeray-hq]

Twin Kittens (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my part for the Paws and Claws Collab that was with @katslutski The theme of the collab was hybrids (puppy/kitty/bunny etc) so if you’re interested check it out!

Unfortunately as usual I got excessively wordy, so this is going to be split into three parts. This part alone is about 20K words and we're only about a third of the way through! so it definitely had to be split up.

If you like this feel free to check out my Atsumu or my Osamu masterlists!

While there is no smut in this part there will be in the future thus this story is 18+ minors DNI please!

TW: Previous mentions of past abuse, gaslighting, verbal, death threats, hybrids have been treated like slaves before

This story is Fem Reader x Atsumu x Osamu but there will be no actual incest. While there will be a threesome at the end the boys won't ever touch one another sexually.

“Are you alright?” your neighbor Ojirou asked, a concerned look on his face as he watched you listlessly stir your drink with the straw, playing with the melting ice in the glass.

The two of you were actually good friends, having lived peacefully side by side for over five years now. You’d met on the very first day when you moved in, you’d been struggling to open the door with a large box in your arms and he’d rushed to the rescue. He and his hybrids diligent Kita, the blue merle border collie, and sly, sleek Suna the Siamese cat, had all pitched in to help you get moved in and settled. You’d been good friends with all three of them ever since.

It was his turn to host your traditional Friday night dinner, so you’d gone over to his apartment determined to enjoy yourself. However, something must’ve given away the rough day you’d had, because all three of them had been casting you concerned looks all night and trading glances when they thought you couldn’t see.

It was apparently Aran’s job to confront you about it, though both hybrids were looking at you expectantly. Well, Kita was looking at you expectantly, Suna was pretending not to pay attention, his phone in his hands, but you could see him watching out of the corner of his eye.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” you asked determined to at least give it a try.

The stern look you got from Kita and the sympathetic smile from Ojiro told you how ultimately fruitless the effort had been, so you caved in with a sigh, pushing your glass away so you could slump face down on the table burying your head in your arms. You’d tell them, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be necessarily looking them in the eye when you did.

“You know how I went to that thing with some of my girl friends today?” you asked tiredly.

There were acknowledging hums all around even from Suna who you saw from the corner of your eye was no longer pretending to look at his phone and instead watching you like some rare breed of animal in a zoo doing something particularly fascinating.

“Well it was fun, great even,” you told them with a small quirk of your lips, “Right up until we started talking about significant others. Apparently two of them are getting married soon, one has a baby on the way, and the rest are in steady loving relationships or have openly declared they aren’t interested in that kind of thing. So guess who was the only sad single there?”

“Ah,” Ojirou acknowledged a well of sympathy in his voice.

“And of course once they found out, they were like ‘oh I think my husband has a brother’ or ‘oh I have this great friend from work you’d just love,” you ranted, earning a quiet snicker from Suna, which prompted you to lift your head up so you could dig back at the cat hybrid who looked to be having far too much fun at your expense.

“They even asked me why I didn’t date my nice neighbor, the one I’m always hanging out with,” you added on ruthlessly, ignoring Ojirou’s shocked sputters, “But I told them he was in a committed relationship. They were skeptical at first, but then I told them that I was sure because someone is extremely loud, enough that I’m forced to use headphones to drown out the yowling.”

Poor Ojirou was coughing, clearly dying of embarrassment, and even Kita had the faintest red tinge to his cheeks. Unfortunately, Suna, unbothered as ever, simply smirked at you, which confirmed some of your suspicions that he’d been doing it on purpose, the brat.

Heaving another forlorn sigh you decided to give up and give poor Ojirou a break, making a mental note to make it up to him somehow. The poor guy really didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire between you and Suna.

“So, I spent the time being relentlessly hounded until it was time to leave,” you continued on, pretending not to notice Kita patting Ojirou’s back sympathetically, “I tried to explain to them that I just don’t have the time and energy it takes to go out and start dating people, that work was taking up too much of my time, but they weren’t having any of it.”

“It sounds like a rough time,” Ojirou told you, with genuine sympathy, the man too kind even after you’d embarrassed the hell out of him, “like when I go home and baa-chan asks when I’m going to settle down and get married.”

Suna let out an involuntary hiss at that, and Kita’s shoulders stiffened up a bit. Even though hybrid-human relationships were accepted and even almost expected between them and their owners these days, it didn’t mean that everyone accepted them as ‘true’ relationships. There were a good chunk of people, mostly conservatives and the older generation who believed that human/human relationships were the only valid ones.

This was no doubt because of the fact that most hybrid children, once they hit eighteen chose to go to hybrid adoption centers rather than staying with their parents. This was partly because it was one of the few good ways to get out from under your parents roof.

Hybrid rights had come a long way from when they’d first been implemented a few decades ago, back when they were considered something of a toy and a pet, not better than a slave. However, they technically still required a human ‘owner’ to do things like go to school, find a job, or even be out in public unsupervised.

There were people working to change that of course, and you’d donated heavily to the cause and actively supported it, but change was slow going, so for now it was what it was. It didn’t help that there were a good deal of people around like Ojirou’s grandma who viewed hybrids as less than human, and would probably never acknowledge his relationship or any children they had, especially if the children were hybrids too.

It was something you’d listened to him vent about more than once, happy to lend him a listening ear, especially since he’d done the same for you plenty of times over the years.

“It wasn’t quite that bad,” you admitted, giving him your own sympathetic smile, “but it was rather depressing.”

“Do ya even want a companion like that?” Kita asked her reasonably, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya talk about wantin’ a relationship other than rantin’ about a few failed dates here and there. If ya don’t I don’t see why it should be a problem, and not any of their business either.”

“Except I think I kind of do,” you admitted with a grimace, to the practical dog-hybrid who always gave solid, dependable advice, “I never planned to spend the rest of my life alone you know? I just always put my career first figuring relationships could come later, when I had more time, but now I’m starting to wonder if later will ever come.”

“And ya don’t want to date?” Kita asked with a slight frown, “I’m sure ya could make time if ya really wanted to, we could change our dinners around fer a while maybe?”

“No way,” you protested immediately, “Dinners with you guys are my only bastion of sanity. Plus I’m not even sure I want to go out and meet people, frankly at this point I’m not even sure I know how. It just… gets a little lonely coming home to an empty apartment sometimes you know?”

“So why don’t you get a hybrid?” Ojirou asked, his tone eminently reasonable despite the shock of what he’d said.

“A hybrid?” you repeated a little dumbfounded, “Me?!”

“Well why not?” he defended, stroking his recently grown goatee with his thumb and forefinger, “You’re wealthy enough to afford one, it would solve your companionship issue, and you wouldn’t have to date anyone, just go to a hybrid adoption center and find someone you’re compatible with.”

When he put it like that it did sound reasonable, even if it wasn’t an idea that had ever occurred to you. A lot of your friends, not just Ojirou, had hybrid companions, one of the weddings discussed earlier that day was even to a hybrid even if it wouldn’t be official until they could get proper legislature passed. You just had never really considered it an option for yourself.

“Do you think I could?” you asked with a light frown, turning the idea over in your mind, the question directed more at Kita than anyone else, both because he was always the most reasonable of the three and because as a hybrid you thought he’d probably be more qualified to answer whether you were a fit ‘owner’.

However to your surprise it wasn’t Kita, but Suna who answered first informing you in his normal lazy drawl, “You’d do well with a hybrid I think, probably something lower energy, like a cat, and we’re pretty self-sufficient as you know, so you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving it home alone like you would a pet.”

“He’s right,” Kita agreed, after a thoughtful pause, “Personally I believe ya would do well with a hybrid, ya get along with us well enough. Plus if yer worried we can help ya look after them. Suna needs a playmate anyway, he’s been getting’ up ta too much mischief lately when Aran and I ain’t here.”

Suna didn’t even bother to protest, just shrugged, completely unbothered by the accusation. Figuring you might as well take advantage of the situation you asked a few more questions, all of which were answered by your friends who all had a lot of input on what kind of hybrid you should get.

You left that night with your head stuffed full of information, after telling them you needed time to think it over. Getting a hybrid was a lifechanging thing and you didn’t want to run off half-cocked. It had gotten you an approving nod from Kita and a supportive pat on the shoulder from Ojirou. Suna had simply given you a knowing smirk, as if the smug cat hybrid already knew exactly what you were going to do as you walked out the door.

You stared up at the hybrid adoption center, not quite sure how you’d ended up here. For the last week or so, ever since Ojirou had brought it up you’d had hybrids on the brain. You’d found your eyes wandering to look at them when they passed you in the street and idly daydreaming in your down time what it might be like to have one waiting when you came home and fantasizing about what kind you might get.

Normally you were very focused and productive at work, but somehow, you’d found yourself scrolling through different sites, putting in research into what kind of facility you should visit and what you’d need to do. It had gotten bad enough that some of your coworkers had noticed your distraction, which was the final nail in the coffin.

You’d already known which center Ojirou had used to choose Kita and Suna, and so at the end of a particularly long day, quietly dreading heading home to your empty apartment you’d instead found yourself driving over to the center.

It was on the smaller side when it came to hybrid adoption centers, privately run and owned by Azumane Industries, a fashion line that created clothes that specifically catered to hybrids. Ojirou had, had nothing but good things to say, and so gathering your courage you left your car to head resolutely inside.

The lobby was rather quiet, only one other patron and two people manning the desks, both of whom looked up when you entered. You were a bit surprised to see the only two workers in sight were hybrids, one a silver cat of some type and the other clearly a German shepherd.

In hindsight it made a lot of sense to have hybrids be in charge of the adoption of other hybrids as they would likely know best how to match people up. However, you rarely saw that kind of practicality when it came to hybrids especially because you knew there was a lot of prejudice out there.

You offered the cat a hesitant smile, stepping up to the desk, the smile he gave back one that was both kind and welcoming as he introduced, “Welcome to Azumane Industries Hybrid Adoption Center. My name is Sugawara, how can I help you today?”

“I’m looking to adopt,” you admitted, unsure what else to say you tacked on, “My friend recommended this place to me, so here I am.”

“Well, we’ll take good care of you,” he assured you calmly, “Usually we do this by appointment, but you’re lucky. It’s a slow day and we have an opening, so I’d be happy to start the process with you if you’re willing.”

“Great,” you told him with a quiet sigh of relief, glad that he could fit you in. Honestly you should’ve known that a place like this would require a call ahead at least. It would’ve served you right for being so impulsive if they hadn’t been able to squeeze you in, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Sugawara offered you a sly grin, one that reminded you of Suna as he promptly pushed a large stack of paperwork in your direction and handed you a pen. You grimaced at the sight of it but set to work, quietly filling out the forms one by one and handing each of them to Sugawara after so he could log them into his computer.

The forms reminded you of a loan or job application in a lot of ways, asking after your health, your income, your living situation, if you had a criminal record, any previous experience with hybrids etc. It took you quite a while to fill them all out, and by the end of it your wrist was sore and you’d signed your name more times than you cared to remember. However, since Sugawara had been filling in as you went you didn’t have to wait long to move on to the next step.

“Congratulations,” he told you with an amused smile, watching as you massaged your wrist, “You’ve been approved to adopt from our center, which means we now get to the fun part.”

“Fun part?” you questioned a little warily, having learned from Suna that a cat hybrid smiling at you didn’t necessarily mean good things for your sanity.

“Tell me about what kind of hybrid you’d like,” he told you leaning forward, elbows braced on the desk as he watched you intently, “Do you have any preferences? I’ve read all your information as we’ve gone along so I have some ideas, but I’d like to hear from you what you think you want.”

“I’m not sure where to start,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“That’s alright,” he assured you, “That’s what I’m here for. Let’s start with species, that’s always good and will narrow things down a bit.”

“I know I want a cat or dog hybrid,” you told him immediately glad to have some kind of answer for him, “Rabbit and rodent hybrids have heats and ruts too often for me to handle given how busy work keeps me.”

Heats and ruts were one of the big things that separated hybrids from humans and were part of the reason it was hard for them to find and hold down jobs. There were two kinds of hybrid within each species, alphas and omegas.

Alphas were usually more aggressive, stubborn, and willful. You needed to have a more dominant personality to have an alpha hybrid otherwise they’d walk all over you. Alphas also had a period called a rut, where their hormones skyrocketed and made them want to breed with anything and everything. It was a really uncomfortable time for them, and made them even more aggressive.

Omegas were generally more passive, quiet and compliant. They tended to be favored over Alpha hybrids as companions because of their more docile nature. They had periods called heats, which were similar to an Alphas rut, the only difference being they wanted to be bred rather than to breed. It made them needy and clingy the entire time.

Both heats and ruts lasted anywhere from a couple of days to a week depending on the species of hybrid. Dogs and cats had week long heats, but they only happened two to three times a year, whereas rabbit and rodent hybrids only lasted a few days, but happened every week and a half to two weeks.

You knew it wasn’t necessarily expected for a hybrid owner to stay home when their hybrid was in heat or rut, but you also knew it was those times that hybrids tended to be more reckless. Most of the research you did advised that you should if you could, even if you weren’t the one who was going to be sexually intimate with your hybrid. There were of course hybrid heat centers, where hybrids could go to find willing partners and get their needs taken care of, but you’d heard horror stories about places like that and didn’t want to use one unless you absolutely had to.

“There are medications to manage heats and ruts,” Sugawara pointed out reasonably, a slight frown on his face.

“I know,” you agreed, “But I did some research and it looks like most hybrids don’t like to take them because they have nasty side effects, like potential infertility, mood drops, and weight gain. If there’s a rodent or rabbit hybrid that wants to voluntarily take the medication then that could be fine, but I’ve heard only a few ever want to risk it.”

Sugawara looked surprised for a moment, then slowly nodded, “It’s good you’ve looked into things, and it’s nice to see someone who’s come prepared. I’ve heard a bit of that too, so no rabbits or rodents. Do you have any preference Alpha versus Omega?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a helpless shrug, feeling a little bad for not being able to narrow down the criteria for him, “I’m pretty open so long as they can fit into my lifestyle, are a little more independent, and think they’ll get along with me.”

“Well you’ll at least have lots of options,” Sugwara assured you, with a smile that told you he wasn’t off put by the fact that you didn’t know exactly what you wanted either, “Does that mean you don’t have a preference for breed either?”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a firm nod, “I just want someone who’s going to be compatible with me, everything else is secondary.”

“Okay,” he told you cheerfully, “I’m sure we can do that! Though it might take us a little bit to narrow things down. Since you aren’t picky you might as well come with me to start looking. Daichi can you manage the desk on your own?”

“Sure,” the german shepherd hybrid agreed, from where he’d been sitting quietly, keeping watch over the two of you and typing away on his computer, since there was literally no one else in the lobby, “Just keep a radio on you so I can call you back up here if it gets busy Suga.”

Your soon to be guide agreed with a smile, plucking one of the aforementioned radios up and attaching it to his belt, before standing up from the desk. He stretched in a very feline manner, then ushered you towards a door that led toward the back of the building, tail swishing peacefully behind him.

“Each species of hybrid has its own floor,” Sugawara explained as he led you through the hall, “Bunnies are on the top floor, rodents underneath them, cats on the second floor and dogs here on the first. Each floor has four separate wings, separated into categories depending on whether the hybrid in question is male or female, alpha or omega. These wings have private rooms in them and are connected by a shared space.”

“We’ll be going into the shared space,” he explained pausing outside one of the doors, “It’s where hybrids come both to hang out, and to meet people. If a hybrid isn’t interested in being adopted by a specific human they’ll simply return to their rooms until the human leaves. This way we ensure that no one gets coerced into adoption. We also keep a close eye on things with security cameras in the shared space, for both the safety of humans and hybrids. Before we enter the room, I need you to give me verbal consent to allow yourself to be filmed.”

“That’s fine,” you told him, more than a bit impressed with how thorough and organized the whole thing was, along with the lengths they went to, to ensure everyone’s comfort.

“Alright then, let’s introduce you to the dogs,” he teased, with a confident smile.

The minute the door opened, almost every head turned in your direction, making you feel a bit awkward and unsure. Some of the hybrids were in their human forms, ears and tails the only hint of their non-human status, while others were lounging around in their secondary animal form.

The animal form of a hybrid was indistinguishable from a normal animal of the same breed. The only thing that might give it away was the high level of intelligence. Your research told you that hybrids tended to act more on their instincts when in animal form, which could be both a good thing and a bad thing.

Case in point, the minute you entered with Sugawara one enormous grey and white speckled dog came bounding over barking his head off. He was absolutely huge, and only the madly wagging tail kept you from cringing back as he charged over, his barking immediately setting off a few of the others.

You got the wind knocked out of you a bit as he collided with you, though thankfully the door was behind you, and kept you from being knocked off your feet as he placed enormous paws on your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and sniffing enthusiastically. You froze, unsure exactly what to do in this situation, and more than a bit uncomfortable.

Luckily Sugawara immediately came to your rescue, shoving the big dog off as he scolded, “Bokuto! What have I told you about jumping up on our guests!”

The big dog immediately began to whine, tail tucked between his legs, and you wanted to feel bad for him, except you were still a bit unnerved.

“Sorry about him,” Sugawara apologized with a sigh, “He’s harmless I promise, just incredibly enthusiastic about new people.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hesitantly reaching out to Bokuto palms first to see if he might be interested, only to have him turn away. Unsure what to do you glanced at Sugawara, whose tail was swishing in clear agitation.

“Ignore him,” the silver haired cat hybrid told you, “He’s just sulking because he got scolded. In fact, better yet ignore all of them, since they can’t stop being rude and barking.”

This last bit, along with the fierce glare that accompanied it was leveled at the room in general, earning some sheepish looks from a couple of the dog hybrids who were in human form, and managing to quiet several of the barking ones who were in animal form.

“Come on,” he urged with one last flick of his tail, “I should’ve started you with the cats anyway. You seem like a cat person to me, and I assure you they’ll have much better manners. If you don’t find what you’re looking for there, we’ll come back, but let’s explore the cat option first and give them time to recall their manners.”

You allowed him to usher you out of the room and toward the elevator, trusting his judgment. It was funny that he’d said you were a cat person, as he was actually the third cat hybrid to have told you so, Suna being one and the Siamese hybrid of one of your coworkers being the other.

It took you less than a minute to get up to the next floor, and when Sugawara ushered you into the cat hybrid room you could immediately feel the difference. There was no noise for one, just a bunch of curious eyes turned in your direction, but it didn’t feel hostile at all.

Sugawara quickly introduced you to the cat hybrids, telling them you’d come to adopt and had ‘just been slobbered all over by the dog hybrids’ so if they could all ‘mind their manners’ that would be great. You were a little amused at the exasperated hybrid’s antics, and you weren’t the only one, if the quiet snickering from a hybrid with particularly messy hair was any indication. However you were also grateful to him for being so diligent as he introduced you to everyone.

Slowly, several cat hybrids meandered up to you, some in human form, some in cat form, though some also stayed in place clearly observing everything. You chatted lightly with the ones in human form, while letting the ones in cat form do as they pleased, answering their questions and asking a few of your own.

It was a much more relaxed experience, something you were infinitely grateful for after the sudden chaos of the dog hybrid room, and you had to wonder if the cat hybrids who’d pegged you as a cat person hadn’t been right after all. You were in the middle of quietly talking to a lovely female alpha hybrid named Shimizu when Sugawara’s radio blared to life. Apparently, the front had gotten rather busy and Daichi desperately needed his help.

“Will you be alright if I leave you here?” Sugawara asked you seriously, “This shouldn’t take too long, and Shimizu is more than capable of looking after you.”

“Sure,” you agreed, after a quick glance at the hybrid in question, who gave an acknowledging nod of her head, “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he agreed with a bright grin, before rounding on the rest of the room, “And all the rest of you better behave or I’ll hear why!”

With one last warning glare around the room he turned on his heel and left, leaving you in Shimizu’s capable hands. The two of you continued to talk amiably as several cat hybrids came by in one form or another to sniff at you or listen in on the conversation from nearby. A number of them only came over for a few minutes, lingered a bit and then left, spreading back out to the room or going into the hallways that led to their private rooms, however a good chunk of them stayed nearby as well.

Chatting lightly with Shimizu and a few of the others you found you really liked the poised and graceful cat hybrid and might’ve looked into adopting her. Unfortunately, Shimizu quickly made it clear that she had some plans of her own, that included getting herself and her young and adorable munchkin kitten hybrid Yachi adopted by one of their frequent visitors.

She was however, more than happy to give her own opinion on some of the other hybrids around, most of whom seemed to respect both her and her opinion a lot. You were listening to Shimizu tell you a bit more about Yachi, who was watching from a safe distance, clearly anxious, but also unwilling to leave, when you felt something paw at your leg.

A quick glance down revealed a long haired fluffy looking cat, in shades of silver and white who was staring up at you expectantly. None of the other cat hybrids had actually dared to touch you, a few coming close, but none making actual moves to greet you.

A little intrigued you crouched down so you’d be closer to his eye level, and extended your hands for him the same way you did for Suna when he was in his cat form, giving him a choice about whether he wanted to be touched or not. The cat hybrid eyed your hands thoughtfully for a minute, before sauntering within reach, nudging his head against your palm.

Taking your cue you allowed yourself to pet him, gently rubbing at his silky ears and enjoying the feeling of his thick, plush coat. His back arched pressing closer into your hands, eyelids lowering in contentment as you carefully massaged your fingers through his fur in a way you knew Suna enjoyed.

A rumbling purr escaped his throat and you couldn’t help the pleased smile that crossed your lips at the sound as he pressed his way closer to your torso, entering the circle of your arms and keeping himself there. You were caught up in petting him for a moment and didn’t immediately notice, but after a few seconds you realized the room had gotten very quiet.

It had been quiet before, as cat hybrids didn’t make a lot of noise in general, but now it was almost deathly still outside the small purring sounds from the cat under your hands. You immediately froze and glanced up at Kiyoko who was watching the two of you with wide eyes.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, more than a bit concerned.

“You pet him,” Shimizu murmured, more to herself than to you.

“Should I not have?” you asked worriedly, moving to pull your hands away, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I pet my neighbor’s cat hybrid all the time when he’s in the mood for it.”

The cat hybrid under your hands made a noise of protest as you pulled your hands away, giving Shimizu what you assumed to be a rather annoyed look based on her baffled and slightly contrite expression.

“No,” she assured you quickly, “We like to be pet, physical affection is important to hybrids. It’s just that particular one doesn’t usually allow anyone to touch him.”

“Do you mind?” you asked the hybrid in question, holding out your hands again.

He gave an agreeing mew and pressed his head to your palm, which you assumed meant you could resume petting. The fur under your fingers was clearly well taken care of, soft and plush and you truly wouldn’t have minded continuing to pet him until he got sick of you.

However, you were interrupted by a furious yowling sound that immediately made you jump, your head snapping up to search for the source of the noise. It turned out to be another long haired fluffy cat, this one in shades of gold and white who came charging out of the halls and ran straight at you.

You didn’t even have a second to react as the cat that had been in your arms darted around to hide behind you. Not that it stopped the oncoming golden one who didn’t even bother to go around and instead went right over you, claws digging into your arm as he attempted to get at the silver one.

You let out a yelp of surprise and pain, as he launched himself off your shoulder at the silver cat behind you who immediately darted out of reach, running around you in dizzying circles with the golden one fast on his heels both of them yowling, hissing and spitting, clearly having some kind of argument.

It only took a moment for you to regain your bearings and decide you needed to put an end to whatever this was, since poor Shimizu didn’t look at all ready to step in, an utterly appalled look on her face. Luckily you had quick reflexes and managed to snag both cats around the middle and stand up quickly, the abrupt shift immediately silencing both, no doubt shocked by your interruption.

“I think that’s quite enough of that,” you scolded firmly, as you hefted the two carefully, keeping them firmly separated. They were a bit heavier than they looked but certainly not too much for you to keep aloft.

“You,” you scolded the golden one, gently shaking him, who had turned to stare up at you with wide copper colored eyes, “I don’t know what he did to you or why, but I’m sure whatever it was could’ve been resolved without the ruckus. I also don’t appreciate being climbed on or used as a spring board.

“And you,” you gently shook the silver one in turn, who looked equally surprised to be addressed, “I’m not sure if he deserved whatever you did or not, but you shouldn’t have been causing a ruckus either, and I don’t appreciate you using me as a shield.”

“From what I understand, in order to be here you have to be considered adults,” you continued firmly, “So I suggest you act like it, and figure this out between yourselves without dragging innocent bystanders into your mess!”

With that you loosened your grip, fully expecting both of them to jump to the floor. However, both continued to simply hang limply in your grasp, watching you with curious eyes that you realized rather abruptly were almost completely identical.

“Siblings huh?” you asked no one in particular, nodding to yourself, “I suppose that explains a lot.”

“Are you alright?” Shimizu asked you worriedly, “You’re bleeding.”

A quick glance at your arm showed you were indeed bleeding, small pinpricks of blood welling up from where the golden cat had dug his claws into you. It stung a bit, but you didn’t think it was too bad.

“I’m alright,” you assured her, kneeling down and releasing both cats, since they seemed disinclined to continue fighting, and you wanted your hands free, “Though I’d appreciate some disinfectant and some band aids if you’ve got them.”

“Of course,” Shimizu assured you with a quick nod, “Just let me get them and I’ll be right back.”

The elegant hybrid moved with enviable grace and speed as she exited the room, leaving you alone. A quick look around the room showed that almost every eye was now on you, and you heaved a sigh, not exactly pleased to be the center of attention, especially since none of them did anything but stare, none of them bothering to approach, just look.

You glanced down in surprise when you felt something touching your leg, only to find the golden cat headbutting your shin, rubbing his face against your calf affectionately as he twined his way through your legs.

“Does that mean you’re sorry,” you asked, crouching back down and offering your hands to the pretty, fluffy cat.

He immediately rubbed his face against your hands too, which you took as permission to continue your petting, rubbing your hand affectionately over his head and earning a happy purr from the feline who arched happily into your hands.

You were distracted from your petting by a paw, which came to rest on one of your wrists, the silver cat watching with obvious envy in his pretty copper colored eyes. Luckily for both of you, you had two hands, and you reached out to pet him too after assuring it was okay. The golden cat clearly wasn’t too happy about his brother’s presence, but didn’t kick up a fuss, instead pressing himself closer and becoming more insistent as he purred ever louder. The silver cat didn’t seemed to pay him any attention though, simply soaking up your attention and affection.

“Here,” Shimizu offered as she came back, first aid kit in hand, “Do you need any help getting bandaged up?”

You were about to accept her offer, as attempting to bandage your dominant arm was always a pain, when you felt something strange under your hand. You turned your attention back to the cat hybrids you’d been petting just in time to see the silver one shift, form becoming large, limbs extending, body lengthening and bulking up until he stood in front of you in human form.

You blinked, utterly startled as you stared up at him, taking in his appearance. He was incredibly handsome in his human form, with the same silvery grey hair as his fur in cat form in an undercut and bright bronze eyes that peered out at you from under heavy lids. He had a strong, slightly square jaw and thick eyebrows, with blunt cheekbones and cupids bow lips.

He was also surprisingly big, at least six feet tall, and maybe a bit more than that, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his chest, showing off the definition of his muscles. To top it all off he had two cat ears poking out from his silvery hair and a fluffy tail that was slowly waving back and forth as he looked at you.

“I’ll do it,” he told the two of you, his voice pleasant and lightly accented, his hand held out to Kiyoko gesturing for her to pass him the first aid kit, “I’ll bandage ya up. It’s only fair since the moron who scratched ya is too busy bein’ pampered.”

That earned a hiss from the golden cat, who immediately began to shift under your hands. You watched in surprise and no small amount of awe as he turned into a carbon copy of the other man who’d appeared, only with golden hair, ears and tail. You’d realized the two were related, but you hadn’t realized they were identical twins. Twins were really rare for hybrids, even more rare than human twins. As such they were usually snapped up for adoption right away, so it was rare to see them in any sort of center.

“If ya hadn’t stolen my puddin’ I wouldn’t have chased ya and scratched her in the first place,” the golden cat hybrid hissed at his brother.

“Well if ya hadn’t eaten my onigiri, maybe I wouldn’t have had to eat yer puddin’” the silver haired one retorted, his tone and expression both flatter compared to his sibling who looked like he might lunge at his twin at any moment.

Not wanting to get in the middle of a literal cat fight you held your own hand out to Kiyoko, who gratefully placed the first aid kit in your hands, then plopped down to sit cross legged on the floor. Your sudden movement startled both cat hybrids who turned to look at you, but you pointedly ignored them as you worked on opening the kit, and pulling out the things you’d need.

“Here I got it,” the golden haired one told you, plopping down beside you, “That scrub ain’t right about a lot of things, but he is right about this. I scratched ya, and I should fix ya.”

You gratefully held your arm out to him, and watched as he gently dabbed the scratches with disinfectant, grimacing slightly at the sting. You were distracted enough by his careful movements that you almost didn’t notice the other twin, right up until he gently smeared Neosporin over the scratches, placing small bandages over the deeper punctures.

“Thank you,” you told them both when they finished, automatically reaching up to pet their heads, but then pausing as you realized the gesture might not be as welcome in their human form.

Your worries were quickly allayed through as the golden one practically fell into your palm, soft, happy purring noises leaving his mouth as you gently scratched the base of his ears. His twin however didn’t immediately move for you, and you turned concerned eyes on him, worried he might be offended. The minute he saw you looking though he immediately leaned forward, pressing his head to your palm, his own soft purrs leaving his throat as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I’m back,” a familiar voice sang, the door to the room sliding open to reveal Sugawara, with a cheerful grin on his face, a grin that was immediately replaced by wide eyed shock as he saw you and the two hybrids who were nearly in your lap with how close they were pressing towards you.

However, shock melted into fury as his eyes saw the open first aid kit and the bandages on your arm, his words nearly a hiss as he demanded, “What happened?!”

Both hybrids immediately stiffened under your hands, drawing closer to you, either looking to protect you or looking for protection you weren’t sure. Either way you allowed it, rubbing your hands over the backs of their necks in a way that always seemed to sooth Suna as you answered, “We just had a bit of a mishap is all, but we’ve cleared it up.”

“Are you sure?” Sugawara demanded anxiously, “We were told when they were brought in that they’d had a bit of trouble before, but they never mentioned that they might attack humans.”

The golden-haired twin seemed to bristle, and if he were in cat form you were sure all his fur would be puffed out as he glared at Sugawara. His twin didn’t look nearly as bothered on the surface, but close as you were, you could see how tight the muscles in his neck and shoulders were as if he was about to spring forward at any moment.

Instinctively you pulled the golden twin toward you, tipping him over into your lap. Despite his size it wasn’t all that difficult given he’d been practically leaning all his weight on you. He let out a yelp of surprise, but stayed still as you buried your fingers in his hair, keeping his cheek pillowed on your thigh. Your other hand gently squeezed the back of the silver twin’s neck, both holding him still and reminding him of your presence.

“It wasn’t an attack, simply an accident,” you assured Sugawara, as you soothed your thumb over the tense muscles of the silver one’s neck, hoping to get him to relax, “A bit like what happened with the dog hybrid earlier.”

“If you’re sure,” Sugawara told you, watching your pet the twins with wide eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, “Does that mean you’ve decided to take them then? I know you were a little worried about adopting one hybrid so I never imagined you’d want two at once.”

“What?” you asked, a little overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information, and the assumption he’d made.

“You’d have to take both of them,” Sugawara explained gently, “Admittedly sometimes twins are separated, but we don’t do that unless they want to be separated, and in this case both of them have stated they want to stay together.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, with a smile. It was good that the center accommodated things like that, and you made a mental note to thank Ojirou for directing you to such an upstanding place.

“Should I get paperwork started?” Sugawara asked, with an answering smile, “If you’re taking the twins it will take a bit more work than usual, so I’d like to get started right away. No pressure though, you don’t have to make a decision today if you don’t want to.”

“I hadn’t really thought about adopting them,” you admitted, and felt both twins stiffen under your hands, so hurried to reassure them, “We haven’t had a chance to chat much yet. I’d like to talk to them a little bit first before we make any decisions.”

“Of course,” the kindly hybrid agreed with an understanding nod, “We’ll give the three of you some space and let you get to know one another a bit better.”

“Thank you,” you told him politely, waiting until he’d ushered Kiyoko a little bit away, clearly trying to give you some sense of privacy despite the fact that they were still well within earshot for hybrids, and likely interrogate the elegant female about what exactly had happened while he was gone.

“Do ya not want us,” the golden haired one asked you, once the two were gone, rolling over in your lap to peer up at you with wide copper eyes, the hint of a pout on his lips, and a little bit of hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t know yet,” you told him honestly, gently stroking his golden hair away from his eyes, “We don’t know each other, yet do we? Do you even know if you want to come with me?”

The two cat hybrids glanced at each other, clearly communicating silently with each other for a moment before turning back to you. The golden haired one had apparently been elected spokesperson because he was the one to admit, “We wouldn’t mind goin’ home with ya.”

“But you don’t even know my name, do you? And I don’t know yours either,” you pointed out, utterly baffled that they’d apparently already decided.

“I heard mister pleasant over there when he introduced ya,” the silver haired one told you with a shrug, “But if it matters so much to ya, I’m Miya Osamu and he’s Atsumu.”

“I can introduce myself ya know,” the golden haired on hissed, doing his best to glare at his brother, though you were sure the effect was entirely lost considering he was apparently refusing to move from your lap and was upside down, “And I didn’t get to hear yer name.”

“That’s because ya were sulkin’ in our room,” Osamu pointed out.

“And whose fault is that huh?” Atsumu demanded with a grimace.

“Yer own,” Osamu countered, looking utterly bored as he peered down at his brother. Atsumu made to lunge out of your lap, but was stopped by your hand pressed firmly to his forehead holding him in place. You took advantage of his moment of distraction to introduce yourself, gently rubbing behind his ears until he started purring again.

“And ya wonder why we want to go with ya,” Osamu told you sardonically, watching the two of you, “I ain’t ever seen anybody who could get ahold of Tsumu like that.”

“Do the two of you always squabble like that?” you asked, a little amused and a little concerned, “If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought one of you was a dog hybrid with how well you’re getting along right now.”

“It ain’t always so bad,” Osamu told you, turning his face away though you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink to his cheeks, “We’re just a little restless is all. We haven’t been here long so it’s just new, not as much freedom as we’re used to either bein’ cooped up for most of the day.”

“Surely they let you out if you want out,” you questioned, a little appalled that the center might be keeping hybrids like prisoners.

“Well sure,” Osamu answered turning back to you, his head tilted to the side as he studied you, “But there are only so many places a hybrid is allowed without an owner ya know.”

You winced slightly at the blunt statement, but couldn’t refute it. The law stated that all hybrids had to have a registered owner, and it was then up to that owner to set limits on the hybrid, about where they could go and what they could do. This was because if the hybrid caused any trouble, it was always on its owner to take responsibility which made things quite limited for them at times. There were lobbyists working to change that of course, as it was viewed as inhumane, but for now the law was the law.

“Did you have more freedom before here then?” you asked curiously, “I’ve heard this place is pretty good.”

“It’s not bad,” Atsumu piped in, his voice content and rumbly as he turned languid eyes in your direction, clearly not wanting to be left out of the conversation, “Better than the first center we were at when we first went up for adoption.”

“So you’ve been adopted before? Or did you just get moved from one of the other centers?” you asked curiously, only to have Atsumu go absolutely rigid under your hands as Osamu hissed at him, clearly angry with his brother, who’d apparently revealed something he shouldn’t if the way he shrank away instead of hissing back said anything.

You glanced between the two of them warily, unsure what to do as Atsumu pulled himself out of your lap so he could look at Osamu. The two of them were clearly communicating, both their tails swishing back and forth in clear agitation.

“We had an owner,” Osamu admitted at last, his words clearly careful as he peered at you from underneath the fringe of his hair, “But we didn’t get along with him so he surrendered us ta the shelter again and they sent us here.”

A part of you really wanted to ask why exactly they hadn’t gotten along with their old owner, but given the way Atsumu was refusing to meet your eyes, his nails practically digging into his thighs where he sat next to you, you got the feeling it would be kinder not to. Instead you carefully redirected the conversation back on topic and asked, “And what makes you think you’ll get along better with me than your previous owner?”

“Yer nothin’ like him,” Osamu told you bluntly, effectively shutting that avenue of conversation down.

“If you say so,” you told him calmly, holding his gaze until he glanced away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It was clearly a sensitive topic, and you didn’t want to push. You’d just met the two of them today after all, you certainly wouldn’t have liked it if they tried to pry into your past, fair was fair after all.

“What do you picture yourselves doing all day?” you asked instead, figuring you might as well.

“Doing?” Atsumu repeated confused, tilting his head in a manner that you couldn’t help but find rather adorable.

“I’ll be at work most of the day during the week,” you explained patiently, “Which means you’ll be by yourselves for quite a bit of time. You’d be more than welcome to laze around if you really wanted to, but I figured I’d ask.”

“What kind of things are we allowed to do?” Osamu asked slowly, a strange look on his face that you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Anything within reason,” you told him with a helpless shrug, “I have money, it’s not an issue, so long as it’s legal, and doesn’t have the potential to hurt me, you or anyone else then I see no reason to place restrictions. My neighbor has a dog-hybrid who works a small rice farm that Ojirou bought him, but his cat-hybrid Suna spends most of his time either lounging around their apartment or playing sports with some of the other hybrids who live in the neighborhood.”

“Which sport?” Atsumu asked, eyes bright, all hesitation forgotten in the face of this new information.

“Volleyball I think,” you told him with a shrug, “Ojirou and I have gone to watch a few games, though I don’t think it’s just volleyball either.”

If Atsumu had been a dog-hybrid you were sure his tail would’ve been wagging a hundred miles an hour with how eager he looked, copper eyes bright in his face as he told you, “I like volleyball. Do you think he’d let me play?”

“You’d have to take it up with Suna, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” you admitted cautiously, earning a happy smile from the hybrid.

“What about you Osamu?” you prompted gently, “Do you play too, or is there something else you’re interested in?”

The silver furred hybrid looked startled to be addressed, but then slowly admitted, “I like to cook.”

“That’s amazing,” you praised, “I live on take out a lot of the time, unless I’m headed over to Ojirou’s or Kita, his dog-hybrid makes an extra bento for me. I really should cook more, but I tend to be on the go a lot and don’t want to dedicate the time.”

“It’s a bit of a shame though,” you admitted, feeling more than a bit sheepish, “One of the best features of my apartment is the kitchen and I hardly ever use it.”

You continued to chat lightly with the twins learning quite a bit about the two of them in the process. Atsumu was definitely the louder twin, always eager and a bit blunt with his words, always saying the first thing that came to mind. Osamu was quieter than his twin, letting his golden furred brother do most of the talking for the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily shy per se, and would answer when spoken to, but he seemed content for the most part to quietly observe before adding his two cents in.

The two of them together were utterly charming, which made you wonder just how they hadn’t been adopted yet. You were fairly sure it must have something to do with the reason they’d been returned to their adoption center, though for the life of you, you couldn’t guess what that reason might’ve been.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sugawara cut in gently, interrupting Atsumu telling you all about the last volleyball game he’d played in, “But the center is closing to visitors in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized immediately, hurriedly scrambling to your feet, feeling more than a bit guilty, “I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.”

“That’s alright,” Sugawara assured you with a kind smile, “It sounds like the three of you are getting along well.”

“I think so,” you admitted, glancing at the twins who’d both risen to their feet as well, both of them far more graceful than you could ever hope to be.

Both of them were watching you, Atsumu with tentative hope clear on his face, and Osamu completely unreadable except for the agitated twitch of his tail which told you he wasn’t pleased your conversation had been interrupted.

“I’m glad,” Sugawara told you, “Do we have any kind of decision made?”

“I…” you started glancing between the twins, who were both looking at you. Gut instinct meant you wanted to say yes. You’d gotten along well and you thought you might continue to enjoy one another’s company. They seemed like they’d slot into your life pretty easily. However you were still a bit hesitant. Adopting one hybrid had seemed like a big deal, but adopting two?

Plus you’d only met them today. Maybe you were being overly cautious but a single day didn’t seem like nearly enough time to get to know someone before inviting them to live with you, no matter how much your heart urged you to say yes.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter,” Sugawara interrupted, an apologetic expression on his face, pulling you from your thoughts as he explained, “We wouldn’t have time to finish the paperwork before it’s time to close, so you wouldn’t be able to take them home with you anyway, not today at least.”

“But…!” Atsumu tried to protest, but quelled as Sugawara shot him a stern look.

“I think that it will be good for all of you to sleep on your decision,” the cat-hybrid told all three of you firmly, gently beginning to usher you from the room, before telling you, “You can come back tomorrow if you like. We’re open at the same times then.”

“Alright,” you agreed, following after him without a fuss, only to pause in your tracks at a heartbreaking mewling sound.

You turned around to see Atsumu staring after you with devastation written all over his handsome features, his hand outstretched like he was trying to reach out and physically stop you from leaving. Before you’d really thought about it your feet had carried you back, and you’d pulled the hybrid into your arms.

Atsumu clutched you tightly, burying his face in your neck and rubbing his cheek against yours in a move you recognized as scenting. You let him do as he pleased without protest, gently running your fingers through his soft golden hair. However, you were conscious of Sugawara waiting for you, so you gently extracted yourself after a few minutes.

Turning you saw Osamu watching you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you stepped toward him, offering your open arms anyway, waiting patiently. You were rewarded for that patience as he stepped into your hold, nuzzling at you the same way his twin had on the opposite side.

“I’ll come back,” you found yourself promising, “I have work tomorrow, but after I’ll be here.”

Osamu drew back and peered into your face, copper eyes boring into your own, clearly searching for something before nodding, “We’ll hold ya to that.”

You let Sugawara usher you out after that, but found yourself tearing up a bit as you followed after him. You desperately didn’t want to leave the twins behind. Somehow, someway you’d gotten terribly attached to them in just a few short hours.

Your sniffling apparently caught Sugawara’s attention, because he turned around and hurriedly fumbled a packet of tissues from one of his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he told you apologetically, “I thought maybe you wanted more time to think things over. We can still do paperwork tonight if you want I don’t mind staying a bit late.”

You looked at him, startled that he’d apparently picked up on your hesitation as you gratefully accepted the tissues, dabbing at your eyes and blowing your nose before replying, “No, no you’re right. It’s not a decision I should make impulsively. I do want to think it over I just…”

You trailed off helplessly, unsure what to say or how to explain that you’d gotten incredibly attached and were currently having a crisis as your head and heart were at war with each other. However, Sugawara apparently understood as he nodded in clear sympathy.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, “That’s completely understandable, adopting a hybrid is no small thing. Those troublesome twins will still be here waiting for you tomorrow, so take all the time you need to think it over.”

“I will,” you told him, then tacked on sincerely, “Thank you, for all your help today. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he told you with a bright, pleased smile as he walked you to the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” you agreed with a smile, letting yourself out and heading back for your car.

The drive home your thoughts were absolutely full of the twins, and what it might be like to have them with you. Your heart and your mind were at war with one another, your heart desperate to run back to the center as soon as it opened in the morning for the cat hybrids, and your head worrying about what it might mean to have both of them and why they’d been returned to the center by their previous owner.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice Suna as you walked passed Ojirou’s door, headed to your own.

“What is that?” Suna demanded, his voice making you pause in your tracks.

“What is what?” you asked him baffled as he strode toward you nose in the air, clearly picking up something.

“You smell like hybrid,” he informed you his tone accusatory, watching you with narrowed golden eyes.

“Do I?” you asked mildly.

“You do,” he affirmed, “Doesn’t she Kita?”

“Doesn’t she what?” the collie hybrid asked, emerging from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Smell like hybrid,” Suna explained, his tail twitching languidly behind him and eyes alight with interest.

“You do,” Kita agreed, after carefully scenting the air, “Two of them actually.”

“Really?” Suna asked, clearly surprised, moving closer to sniff at you again, “You sure?”

You held still, too used to his behavior to be bothered by it, partly amused and partly annoyed at the cat hybrid who was clearly digging for information.

“Yes I’m sure,” Kita told him calmly, “They’re very similar, but there.”

“They’re identical twins,” you explained, figuring the jig was up anyway, and hoping maybe Ojirou or Kita would have some advice that might help you with your quandary.

“Ho?” Suna asked a purr of interest in his voice as he inhaled and nodded to himself, then asked slyly, “And what were you doing with these twins to have their scent on you so thoroughly?”

“Is Ojirou home?” you asked Kita, completely ignoring Suna’s question, earning a chuckle of amusement from the Siamese.

“He’s here,” Kita agreed, “Did you need to speak with him?”

“Both of you, if you have a minute?” you questioned hopefully.

“For you? Always,” Kita assured you kindly ushering you in.

“Oya, I think I’m hurt,” Suna told you as he followed along behind, a feline smirk on his face, “What about me? Don’t you want my advice too? After all they’re cat hybrids aren’t they?”

“They are,” you agreed with a huff as you plopped into your normal chair, “But are you going to give me good advice, or are you going to say whatever you think will be most amusing for you?”

“What’s this about cat-hybrids?” Ojirou asked, emerging from the hallway, where Kita had gone to fetch him.

“She’s thinking about adopting twin cat-hybrids,” Suna informed him before you had the chance to speak up, smug as the cat who got the canary.

“Are you really?” Ojirou questioned with a grin, taking his own seat.

“Yes,” you agreed, shooting the smug Siamese a look for interrupting and stealing your thunder, “I went to that adoption center you recommended today.”

“That’s great,” Ojirou told you, leaning forward in his chair eagerly, “How did it go?”

You explained your meeting with the twins, happily accepting the drink Kita pressed into your hands, which was your favorite, as the collie hybrid got everyone settled and then settled in himself to listen. You talked about how much you liked them, but your wariness about getting not one but two hybrids, and the strange issue with them having a previous owner and being so cagey about it.

“I can see why you’re wary about used goods,” Suna noted.

“Don’t call them that,” you snapped, despite the fact that you could hear the tinge of sarcasm in his voice and knew he didn’t really mean it, unable to help yourself, “people aren’t like items, and shouldn’t be treated like them.”

“She’s right,” Kita told the Siamese sternly, “Even as a joke, that was a rude way to refer to them.”

Suna slouched in his seat, looking thoroughly chastised as he admitted, “I know you don’t see them like that. You’ve always treated us just like normal people.”

“That’s because you are just like normal people,” you told him, stroking your fingers through his hair to let him know you forgave him, “Just with enhanced senses and a different set of instincts at times.”

“I don’t know why you think you need our advice,” Ojirou pointed out reasonably, “It sounds like you’ve pretty much already made up your mind, you clearly adore them already.”

“It’s just a lot,” you admitted, “Do you think I can handle twin hybrids? Especially since I’ve never even had one before? I mean, I’m not like you, none of my family ever had one growing up, and the only ones I really know are Kita, Suna, and a couple that come into the office with Tendou from time to time.”

“We’re not exactly children,” Kita reasoned, logically, “We don’t actually require all that much care outside of the basics, which I know you’re monetarily able to provide, and companionship, which is the whole reason you decided to seek out a hybrid in the first place. One or two, does it really matter? It might even be better as they’ll be able to keep each other company if they get lonely when you’re gone, and I see no reason we can’t help you look after them too.”

“You’d do that?” you asked the collie hybrid, surprised.

“Of course,” he agreed with a tiny smile, “We’re friends are we not?”

You smiled at him, touched, and extremely reassured by his ever cool logic. It did make sense, and quelled some of your worries, plus knowing the extremely reliable hybrid would help you out if you needed it was incredibly comforting.

“I wouldn’t worry about them being returned to their center,” Suna told you, surprisingly serious, “Hybrids get returned for all sorts of reasons, but most of the time its owner incompatibility rather than behavioral issues. Plus that center wouldn’t let you adopt them if they thought they’d give you trouble.”

“But Sugawara did say they’d heard the twins gave someone trouble,” you admitted, recalling the conversation with the worried cat-hybrid.

“Yes, but they didn’t give you trouble,” Suna pointed out, “We cat hybrids tend to make up our minds pretty quickly about people. It sounds like they decided they liked you, and unless something really terrible happens they’ll keep liking you, we’re terribly stubborn that way.”

“If you’re really worried you can always ask the center about it,” Ojirou told you, “They keep records, and would probably tell you, especially if it’s a concern about their adoptability.”

“I don’t want to pry into something and lose their trust,” you admitted, even as part of you was incredibly tempted to do just that.

“Then maybe try asking if the center if they think whatever the issue was, will be an issue with you,” Suna reasoned, “And if they say no then let it lie and adopt them, and if they say maybe or yes, then tell the twins you can’t accept them if they can’t tell you what the issue was.”

“That seems fair to me,” Kita agreed with a nod, “Just make sure you’re honest and tell them you asked, just in case.”

“Okay,” you agreed, letting out a relieved breath, “Okay that sounds really reasonable to me. It’s just… do you think I’m rushing into this too fast? I mean going to the center today was an impulse.”

“I don’t think so,” Ojirou assured her thoughtfully, “You’ve been thinking about it for a while, haven’t you?”

“She’s put so much thought into it she’s actually over thought it,” Suna interjected wryly before you had a chance to answer.

You made a face at him but couldn’t actually argue. He might have a point about overthinking it. Reassured you spent a good couple hours talking with your neighbor and the two hybrids as they answered more of your questions, and you told them about the twins.

Eventually however you headed home, determined now to get at least a little bit prepared for the arrival of your two new housemates tomorrow. Luckily it wasn’t dirty, but running a load of laundry and doing a little vacuuming never hurt anyone. You didn’t have a whole lot for them and didn’t know what kind of things they might have or need, but hopefully your office with pull out futon and guest bedroom would suffice for now until you could take them shopping.

Falling into bed that night you let yourself feel your excitement for the first time. You were adopting a hybrid, not just one but adorable twin hybrids. You couldn’t wait to bring them home and maybe put an end to your loneliness once and for all.

Osamu glanced slowly around the room, trying not to look at his twin, the clock, or the doors to the main area of the shared living space the way Atsumu was. Yesterday had been a bit of a revelation. He’d never actually expected to approach the woman who’d shown up looking to adopt. After what happened with their last owner he’d never expected to ever actually want to be adopted again. However, somehow he’d found himself entranced by her, and he had no one but himself to blame.

When he’d initially strolled over, it was because he’d known via his bond to his older twin that he’d finally realized that Osamu had snagged his pudding for himself and was throwing a fit about it. He’d thought that his twin wouldn’t dare make a fuss if he was with a potential owner.

The rules of this place were pretty lax compared to the first center they’d lived in. It allowed them a lot more freedoms. It let them come and go from their rooms as they pleased rather than on a regimented schedule, and allowed them to turn down any potential adopter that they didn’t like, which had felt utterly shocking and unprecedented when he’d first been told about it. They gave them a small allowance they could spend or save as they chose, and even let them deal with their heats and ruts in whatever way they chose, including with other tenants so long as birth control was used.

It honestly felt like heaven compared to the first center they’d been at, and maybe even better than living with their previous owner even before everything had gone to shit. He wasn’t sure he’d even ever wanted to leave, which he’d been assured by several other tenants was also an option if he so desired.

However, the one rule that was the same between both centers was that they weren’t allowed to cause trouble with the humans that came looking to adopt. This was only good sense considering how much the law favored humans in cases of hybrid vs human issues. However, unlike the first center they’d lived, this one at least didn’t threaten to put them down if they misbehaved.

They’d been young back then, everyone in that center was, all of them below the age of twenty-one, because anyone who reached their twenty-second birthday disappeared and was never seen again. Thus he hadn’t known it was actually against the law to kill hybrids, none of them had known and the caretakers had perpetuated the rumor that those who reached twenty-two were killed instead of shipped off to other centers in order to make them that much more desperate to be adopted.

It had made him more than a bit bitter once he’d been with their new owner long enough to learn more about what was and wasn’t allowed when it came to human hybrid interactions. The man had actually found their previous beliefs amusing and had laughed at them more than once for being so naïve.

It was positively galling, and had made his hackles rise more than once. However he’d known better than to lash out and had better impulse control than Atsumu who’d been punished by their previous owner more than once for acting aggressively. Fortunately, Osamu had never liked being made fun of, and spite was a powerful motivator, meaning he’d practically memorized any and all of the laws that had to do with hybrids.

It meant the few times their owner had toed the line with Atsumu’s punishments that he’d been able to cite the law to pull him back, right up until their owner had decided he no longer cared and pushed too far, leading to them being removed from his home and put back up for adoption at this new center.

They had been here for just over a month and while several people had been interested in adopting the ‘rare gold and silver hybrid twins’ he had absolutely refused to engage with any of them. It was probably why that female alpha hybrid had been so shocked when he’d first approached.

He’d fully intended to just use the human to keep Atsumu at bay, right up until she’d crouched down and offered her hands to him and he’d gotten a whiff of her scent. He’d known from the few lessons their ma had bothered to teach them that hybrids relied a lot more on their sense of smell than humans did, and that scent was the basis of the instinct that told them who would be a good mate and who wouldn’t.

He’d originally thought compatibility could only be found with other hybrids, after all he’d met plenty of humans before both when he’d lived in the adoption centers and with his previous owner and never once had he gotten a hint of compatibility with any of them. He thought he could be forgiven for completely losing his head and giving over to his instincts as he caught the scent of the most compatible person he’d ever met.

Her scent was honestly indescribable, and his instincts had him purring within seconds as he tried to rub her scent all over himself. She’d obliged, petting him with fingers that had felt magical, her touch kind and soothing and perfect as she rubbed his ears, carded fingers through his fur and rubbed her hand along his back.

He’d been lost in a dizzy haze of touch and scent and probably would’ve remained that way if not for the fury of his brother, which had jolted him out of it. It had been like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head pulling him from his happy haze and reminding him of the whole reason he’d come up to the human in the first place.

He probably should’ve run off, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to move very far, instead darting around to hide behind her. He’d thought that once Atsumu saw her he’d stop and at least hold off attempting to get vengeance until later, but he’d overestimated his brother again, who was apparently more incensed than he’d guessed about the lost pudding.

Instinct had kicked in and before he’d really thought about it he was running away from his brother, darting around her legs in a game of chase that was both amusing and a bit annoying, especially when he could tell how much it was pissing his brother off, his sibling’s annoyance pulsing down their bond in waves of sparks.

He wasn’t sure how long it would’ve continued, as they’d actually run around like this until someone got tired before, usually Atsumu as he got fed up and didn’t have the patience to keep going. However, he’d suddenly found himself plucked right up into the air.

He’d been amused when she’d scolded Atsumu, though the amusement had faded a bit when she’d decided to scold him too, leaving him feeling properly chastised. He’d been more than a bit pissed off with his brother when he’d realized the nice smelling woman was bleeding because of him, though there’d also been a small frisson of fear, wondering what the consequences would be.

However, to his surprise she hadn’t actually seemed all that angry with either of them. Instead she’d immediately accepted Atsumu’s apologies as his brother, who’d managed to get a lungful of her scent had cuddled up to her. He could feel Atsumu’s deep interest in the human. His brother clearly also scented compatibility with her, which wasn’t surprising given they’d shared almost everything else in their lives.

He’d found himself more than a little bit jealous as he’d watched his brother soak up her attention. It had always been like that to an extent. Atsumu had always been the more outgoing one, the one who attracted attention, who wore his heart on his sleeve and somehow managed to win people over despite his often crass personality. Osamu had always kind of faded into the background as he was much quieter and had better control over his emotions, the silver to his gold, the shadow to his light.

Normally he didn’t mind, but this time being forgotten had stung. They’d always competed with each other, but most of the time he’d been humoring his brother, or simply hadn’t wanted Atsumu to win rather than wanting the prize of winning himself. This time though it had felt like more than that. No way was he going to let his brother steal her all to himself.

Before he’d really thought about it he’d reached out a paw, and to her credit she’d immediately offered him a sweet smile and resumed her wonderful petting. Atsumu hadn’t been pleased, but he hadn’t cared a bit.

It hadn’t surprised him at all that when Shimizu had come back with the first aid kit that Atsumu had insisted on taking over when he’d been the one to offer first. The two of them had continued to quietly compete over her attention as they fixed up her scratches, though he could at least feel his brother’s guilt for inflicting them on her in the first place, which did help sooth some of his annoyance with his older twin.

It was utterly gratifying that even when she had Atsumu literally in the palm of her hand, she’d still looked for him too. He’d tried to shove the feeling down and away, trying to remind himself that neither he nor his brother actually wanted another owner, but found it wasn’t working well. The combination of her scent and her fingers as she massaged her fingers through his hair enough to make him want to curl up in her lap and never leave.

He’d thought they might get in trouble when Sugawara returned. His fellow silver cat-hybrid belonged to the owner of the center, and took his job very seriously. He wouldn’t allow any of them to make trouble, and while he respected him, and admittedly envied him a bit for the clear trusting and loving relationship he had with his owner it didn’t stop him from wanting to claw his eyes out for bringing up their past in front of her.

Right when he was considering attempting to verbally eviscerate the other hybrid and damn the consequences his brother’s shock had pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see her pull his twin into her lap. The feel of her hand gently squeezing his neck from behind practically made him limp with pleasure as Atsumu’s own bliss at being so close to her combined with his own to thoroughly distract the two of them, though not so much he didn’t notice her excusing their behavior and ensuring they didn’t get in trouble.

However, both of them had snapped to attention when the other hybrid had asked her if she wanted to adopt the two of them. He’d been able to feel his twin’s building hope, his impulsive brother apparently forgetting all about not wanting another owner, already clearly more than half in love with her despite not even knowing her for a day.

It was a trait he both hated and envied in his twin, the ability to be so impulsive, to move on so quickly and let go of past hurts. It wasn’t something he was capable of. He knew he was a grudge holder and far slower to trust than his brother was. He liked to think it served him well and kept him from being as naïve as Atsumu could be, though there were times it made things difficult too.

He’d been unsure whether he wanted her to state her intention to adopt them or not, right up until she’d said she hadn’t even considered it. It stung more than he’d expected, his own small hurt amplified by his brother’s though both of them had been somewhat soothed by her explanation that she wanted to know them better.

It was extremely reasonable and made him like her all the more, knowing she was the cautious type, more like him than like Atsumu, even if he simultaneously wished she’d been a little more impulsive just this one time and said yes instead. Though he found himself heartened by her honesty. That she’d actually asked them if they wanted to go with her rather than making any sort of assumption had settled things for him.

He hadn’t needed Atsumu’s silent pleading to forget their original plans to agree that maybe they should give this human a chance, though it did make it easier in the end to agree as he wasn’t the only one who wanted it.

They’d both tried to win her over, and though they’d accidentally fallen into squabbling more than once she’d handled it like a champ, not at all put off and even amused by it if the smile was any indication. However, despite the fact that they were the ones trying to win her over, it seemed every word she spoke was actually meant to win them over instead.

She was nothing like their previous owner, who’d been strict with his rules and harsh with his punishments. In fact she didn’t speak about punishments at all. He wasn’t naïve enough to think there wouldn’t be any if they misbehaved, but the freedoms she was offering in turn more than made up for anything she might throw their way.

The biggest hiccup had been when Atsumu mentioned their previous owner. The horror and guilt he’d felt from his twin was the only reason he’d managed to keep himself from doing more than hiss at him. His stomach had sunk when she’d gently pressed them for answers, but he knew they had to give her something.

He’d tried to give her as little as possible unwilling to volunteer the information, both because he hated even thinking about their time with their previous owner and because he was afraid she might somehow decide she didn’t want them because of it. In the end she’d changed the subject herself, and not brought it up again, but as she’d walked away from them with Sugawara, leaving them behind he’d wondered rather despairingly if that hadn’t been a mistake.

It didn’t matter that she’d turned around to comfort them when Atsumu had been unable to keep his heartbreak quiet. He’d known the minute she walked out the doors the chances of her coming back were slim to none. That was the other thing that remained consistent between this shelter and the last. Once a potential owner walked away claiming they needed to ‘think on it’ they never came back.

Still he hadn’t been able to turn away from her embrace, or to stop himself from scent marking the opposite side of your neck from the one his twin had claimed, laying his own personal stamp with the faint hope it would remind you to come back for them. However, no matter what you’d said, he couldn’t bring himself to hope. He knew hoping would only lead to more disappointment, and he wasn’t like Atsumu he wouldn’t be able to bounce back from it.

Not that his twin was making it easy on him. His brother’s hope was so fierce it was almost painful and he could feel the slightly desperate edge to it. He’d gotten attached to her, not that he could blame him, he was more attached than he wanted to be too. However unlike him, Atsumu had fill faith you were coming back, so much so he’d actually packed up his room into the bags they’d brought from his old place and was ready to go.

Nothing Osamu or any of the others, who also seemed to understand how small the chance was that she’d come back for them, said could sway him. The moment it had passed three o’clock Atsumu had brought hjs bags out to the shared living area and began to sit vigil, waiting for her to come back.

Stubborn as ever his twin had ignored all the pitying looks sent his way and the fact that slowly but surely time had slipped by, leaving just half an hour until they were supposed to close. Though his face was resolute, his brother wasn’t actually stupid and Osamu knew it was only stubborn pride keeping him in place. He could feel the slow onset of his twin’s hurt and despair as each minute ticked down.

He’d contemplated leaving him, going to his own room to wallow, but he knew he could never abandon his twin. They’d been through everything together, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave him now.

He was trying to figure out if he could coax his brother into leaving his post when the door swung open, revealing Sugawara, who had a wide beaming smile on his face. His fellow silver hybrid cast a quick glance behind him before ushering his follower into the room.

He barely caught a glimpse of her before his brother practically launched himself at her, but it was enough to freeze him in his place, because it was her. She’d actually come back after all.

His brother had wrapped himself around her, burying his face in her neck and clinging to her like favorite a stuffed toy, not that she seemed to mind, if the hands she was running over his hair and back meant anything. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, the words too quiet to hear over the sudden near painful hope and the rapid beat of his own heart at the thought that she’d come for them.

Atsumu’s joy was practically burning through him, combined with his restored faith and smug satisfaction that he’d been right all along about her coming back for them. It probably should’ve annoyed him, but he found that all he could really feel was a bone deep sort of relief.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked, as she finally managed to gently extract herself a bit from his twin’s embrace, though he noticed he didn’t let go entirely, one of his hands laced firmly with hers.

He immediately stood, letting himself fall back into his more human skin as he made his way toward them, not waiting for his brother to out him. She seemed to spot him immediately and the relieved smile on her face was enough to make his traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Osamu,” she greeted warmly, more warmly than he thought he’d ever been greeted by anyone before as she opened her free arm in an inviting gesture. It was maybe a little pathetic how readily he accepted that embrace, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, as he fell into her hold, face automatically nuzzling against the side of her neck that Atsumu had left unclaimed. A rumbling purr left his lips as he felt her press her face against his affectionately, as he allowed himself to cling to her for a bit.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she murmured to him quietly, her arm squeezing affectionately around his waist, genuine regret in her tone, “My boss made me stay a little longer than usual, and then there was an accident on the freeway. I called ahead though and Sugawara has almost all the paperwork done. I just need to collect the two of you, do some signing and we’ll go home okay?”

“Really? Yer takin’ us home?” he almost didn’t recognize his own voice given how weak it sounded, the quaver in it making him feel utterly ridiculous and overly emotional, something that was supposed to be his twin’s job, and frustrated him enough that he bit his lip nearly hard enough to bleed as he wrestled with himself, trying to get back in control of his emotions.

“Yeah, as long as you want to come, then I’ll gladly take you,” she offered with a gentle smile that made his heart squeeze nearly painfully in his chest, “Though there’s something I need to admit to first.”

He froze a little at that, staring at her anxiously as Atsumu also looked on, his blabbermouth brother finally silent and clearly wary. She carefully released him, though she still reached for his hand, peering between the two of them, anxious but also obviously determined. He allowed her to grasp her fingers, squeezing them automatically, anxiety making his heartrate skyrocket and bile rise in his throat.

“I asked the center about your previous owner,” she confessed, the words automatically making his heart drop, as he wondered numbly what they could’ve told her. Had she asked for the details? Was she afraid now? Had she changed her mind or decided to add some stipulations to their adoption?”

“I didn’t ask for details,” she clarified, her voice managing to cut through the haze of panic that had been rising in his chest, “All I asked was if they thought whatever had happened with your previous owner would cause trouble for me, or put any of us in any sort of danger.”

That didn’t actually sound so bad, and was even fairly reasonable the storm of hurt and anger that had been building behind his anxiety slowly dispersing the more he thought about it. He noticed that his grip on her hand had loosened a bit, and he retightened his hold, hoping the center had responded in a way that reassured her. Given that she was here, talking to them, he thought it wasn’t unreasonable to be hopeful.

“They said none of us would be in any danger, otherwise they never would’ve offered to take you both in, in the first place, and that they were sure you’d be alright with me,” she explained, her hand gently squeezing his in return.

He wasn’t sure if the bone deep relief he felt was his or his brother’s but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too caught up in the surging hope that followed it as she asked, “So, even knowing that I asked that, are the two of you still willing to come home with me?”

“O course we want to go with ya, right Samu?” his brother replied instantly, nuzzling into her neck insistently, clearly begging for attention, attention she seemed more than willing to give if the affectionate smile on her face was any indication. When she looked at him for confirmation all he could do was nod in agreement, unable to find the words for how very much he did want it and unwilling to sound ridiculous again.

The next half hour passed in a strange almost dream like haze, as he packed himself up, his smug brother clinging to her and gloating over how he was already finished, soaking up her attention as he made a mental note to get back at his annoying twin later. Once he finished packing all there really was, was a couple of signatures before he found himself in a nice car that was speeding along the highway.

Atsumu was chatting away in the front seat, practically bouncing as he asked their amused new owner anything that popped into his head as he tried to digest what had happened. Somehow, someway, they had an owner again.

You smiled to yourself as you listened to Atsumu babble away happily in the seat next to you. The golden furred twin hadn’t stopped bouncing since you’d showed up at the shelter, clearly over the moon that you’d come back for him. Osamu was quiet in the back seat, and you might’ve been worried he was happy to come with you if not for the way he’d scent marked you, almost frantically his hand clutched tightly to yours as you’d signed the paperwork to take them home.

It was pretty clear both twins had thought you weren’t coming back for them, and it had broken your heart a bit, and made you even more resolute that you’d done the right thing for all of you. You’d been anxious the whole day to get back to them, not nearly as focused on work as you probably should’ve been, which had been part of the reason for your delay in the first place.

You’d panicked more than a bit when you’d encountered the accident on the way there, afraid that you’d break your promise to the twins. It had only been Sugawara’s kind voice, assuring you that he’d start the paperwork while you drove and even stay open late if necessary for you to get there, that had kept your guilt and panic at bay.

Now that you had them with you weren’t quite sure how you felt. Dazed that it was actually happening, excited for what the future might bring, and a little anxious about all the changes you’d have to make in your life even as you looked forward to those changes more than anything.

However, before you headed for home there were a couple things you needed to do first. Luckily you would hopefully find everything you needed in one place, at least for today. You wanted to give them time to settle in a bit, more shopping could come later when they’d decided what they needed.

“Where’s this?” Atsumu asked, pausing in his excited babble to look at you with confusion, as you pulled into the large parking lot, “Ya don’t live here do ya?”

“Don’t be stupid,” his brother huffed from the backseat, “Yer gonna make her think we’re some kind of bumpkins, ya know what a mall is Tsumu.”

“O course I know what a mall is,” Atsumu blustered, twisting around in his seat to glare at his twin, “I just thought maybe she had an apartment nearby is all. Who knows how rich people live?”

You huffed in amusement, reaching out without thought to ruffle his ears affectionately. The golden haired hybrid froze for a minute under your touch, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, freezing as well, before a rumbling purr left his chest as he pressed his head further into your hand.

“You’re too cute,” you murmured almost to yourself as you gently scratched his ears and stroked your hand over his face and neck, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

“We’re only stopped here for a quick couple errands,” you explained to both twins, reluctantly pulling away from Atsumu who offered a pout but didn’t protest, “I noticed you don’t have as much as I thought you would, and I want to get you more comfortable collars to wear when we’re in public.”

Both twins hands immediately flew to the simple brown leather bands around their necks. All hybrids were required to wear collars in public to identify them as belonging to someone. The collars had a tag on them, which was essentially a small chip that had all their owner’s information in it, that when scanned would tell someone how to get in contact with their owner. It was to ensure they behaved and that if they didn’t their owner could be forced to take responsibility for their actions. Any hybrid who walked around without a collar immediately had the police called and was brought in and held until they could figure out why they were without.

You’d heard horror stories about the way such hybrids were treated, innocent hybrids who’d accidentally lost a collar somewhere and been so traumatized when they were finally returned to their owners that they were never the same again. Which of course was why you were determined it was never going to happen to your twins, even if a part of you balked at the idea of putting a symbol of ownership on another sentient being. Judging from the looks on their faces, Atsumu’s much easier to read than Osamu’s they’d heard stories too, and neither of them bothered to protest.

“Come on,” you urged gently, climbing out of the car yourself, “The sooner we get the unpleasant stuff done the sooner we get to the good stuff. I’ve got a couple things in mind I’d like to get you both as welcome home presents, but if there’s anything else you think you want or need feel free to ask.”

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding out of the car.

“That’s right,” you agreed with a small laugh, watching him sulk a bit as he realized his brother had beaten him in securing your free hand, Osamu’s fingers laced with your own and a smug smirk on the silver hybrid’s face, “So keep close and let’s get going okay?”

Luckily the mall wasn’t too crowded, and while the twins got more then their fair share of admiring looks, doubtless both because of how good looking they were and how rare twin hybrids in general were, no one actually dared to approach your group, even as Atsumu practically bounced around glancing around the mall in fascination and reminding you more of an eager puppy than a supposedly slightly older cat hybrid.

Osamu was much more dignified and kept close to your side, though judging from his wide-eyed look that he couldn’t quite hide behind his stoic façade he was just as in awe as his brother. You were starting to get an impression of their previous owner and it was far from good.

You’d known that some owners kept their hybrids close to home, either because they were overly protective or possessive, and it had always rubbed you the wrong way. Ojirou had always allowed Kita and Suna to do as they pleased for the most part, treating them as capable adults and equals, more like roommates than the pets some treated their hybrids as and his was the example you were going to strive to follow.

It was why your errands today were so important, because while you would happily have let your twin hybrids run around as they pleased dressed however they pleased a collar was unfortunately the one thing they couldn’t be without, especially if they were going to go outside without you.

Luckily the mall was outfitted with several hybrid specialty stores and it didn’t take you long to find one dedicated entirely to collars. Both twins were a little wide eyed at the selection, and neither seemed to know quite what to say as you roamed through the aisles together looking at the selection.

Several of them made you grimace in outright distaste, the collars boasting accessories like inward facing spikes or tracking devices that would alert the owner if the hybrid tried to leave their home. It made you feel a little sick to your stomach, so you instead turned to the less intrusive ones.

“Do you see anything you like?” you asked the twins, squeezing Osamu’s hand affectionately, “You don’t have to wear collars in the house if you don’t want to, but you’re going to need them if you want to leave when I’m not home, which means you’ll probably be wearing them a lot, so make sure to pick something you like. You can even pick a couple if you want it to match your outfit for the day or whatever I don’t mind spending a little more to get a handful of chips programmed.”

Both twins blinked at you owlishly clearly startled by the offer, which made your heart hurt for them, even as they hesitantly turned back toward the displays, looking more closely than they had before.

“Do ya have any restrictions?” Osamu asked bluntly, not quite looking at you as he eyed a display of thick leather ones that didn’t look comfortable in the slightest.

“No,” you assured him, “I’m not the one who has to wear it.”

Osamu nodded slowly, and seemed to be taking his time as he perused the collars. You let him do as he liked, allowing him to lead. You’d only loosened your hold on him once, thinking he may like to wander the store like his brother and not have to tow you along with him, but the way his hand had reflexively tightened on yours in response had put paid to that assumption and you’d immediately re-laced your fingers together.

In the end Atsumu approached you first, holding a collar out to you hopefully. It actually looked like it was meant more for a dog hybrid, thick black leather with steel spikes on it, making it look fairly fierce. Personally you thought it was gaudy and was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you tried not to let your distaste show, after all you’d said anything they wanted and you’d meant it. Luckily in the end you didn’t need to say anything.

“What the hell is that?” Osamu demanded when he caught sight of the collar in his brother’s hands, the disgusted look on his face letting you know his feelings quite clearly.

“It’s a collar scrub, what else would it be?” Atsumu replied with a sneer for his twin you were beginning to think was automatic.

“I’m not the scrub you are,” the silver twin sneered, “Because only a scrub would wear somethin’ like that.”

“Oy,” Atsumu interjected, with a fierce glare, “She said we could have what we wanted.”

“Yeah but she probably thought ya had some sort of taste, she doesn’t know you well enough to know how scrubby ya are scrub,” Osamu hissed back.

“Alright guys,” you interjected gently, squeezing Osamu’s hand and reaching out to gently ruffle Atsumu’s ears, aware of the eyes of the cashier which had definitely turned in your direction given the twins were getting louder and louder by the second, “Let’s try to keep it to polite volume levels in public hmm?”

“Sorry,” both twins grumbled, identical pouts on their faces that made you giggle.

“It’s alright,” you assured them fondly, “Just try to be good okay?”

They nodded though Osamu clearly needed to get the last word in as he turned to you with pleading eyes, “Ya think it’s an abomination too don’t ya?”

“I said you could have whatever you wanted,” you told him diplomatically, “If this is what Atsumu likes, then of course he can have it.”

“Ha, see!” Osamu demanded of his twin, clearly seeing right through your attempt at diplomacy, “She thinks it’s ugly too!”

“Do ya really think it’s ugly?” Atsumu asked you sulkily eyeing the collar in his hands.

You’d known before that you were weak to pleading eyes, but it turned out you were even more weak to the pleading copper eyes of your hybrid, the thought that he might be sad tugging at your heartstrings.

“I just worry you’ll be uncomfortable,” you assured him, letting go of Osamu’s hand and gently cupping his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks affectionately, the same way you did for one of the hybrids that occasionally came to your office to sulk when his owner brought him to work but didn’t pay attention to him.

Atsumu immediately leaned into your palms, heavy lidded eyes half-shut with bliss as you explained, “It’s summer right now, and there’s no padding so it will be hot, heavy and probably chafe. Plus didn’t you say you wanted to play volleyball? Won’t it get in the way? I can definitely get it for you if you like it, but maybe pick something else too, okay?”

“Kay,” your golden twin agreed, sounding completely and utterly content as he nuzzled into your hands, making your heart melt in your chest.

“What about this one?” Osamu offered, pulling your attention away from his brother.

He was holding a collar in his hands, one that actually looked more like a necklace a thin but sturdy looking cord of leather fastened with a silver chain in the front that clasped on both ends to a silver hoop that suspended a solid silver disc in the middle that on close inspection revealed that it housed the chip needed for identification.

“That looks really nice,” you praised, letting out a breath of relief at his choice. You weren’t a big fan of the collars in general, but seeing it look more like a necklace made it seem far more tolerable. Plus it was black and silver and thus would probably go with just about anything he chose to wear.

Letting go of Atsumu to take the collar from his twin, you completely missed the smug smirk directed over your shoulder by Osamu as you inspected it, though Atsumu certainly didn’t, giving his twin an annoyed glare above your head.

In the end, while Atsumu sulked and complained about it, he did actually put the original collar he’d offered back and go with Osamu’s choice, even though you offered to get him both. He refused, sulking slightly all the while, but remained insistent that he only needed the one, even though you ended up buying four collars total, so you could have two back-ups. Though he did insist on holding your hand to make up for the disappointment.

Luckily the manager didn’t seem to mind having to program all four collars, tapping away at the computer, while Atsumu sulked a bit by your side and Osamu somehow managed to all but radiate smug superiority. The cashier carefully ringing up your purchases for you as you pulled your wallet out.

“A word of advice?” the cashier offered as you waited for the programmed collars, surprising you with his forwardness.

“You’re too indulgent with them,” he continued on, not giving you the chance to refute the need for him to speak, “Hybrid’s need a firm hand. You’ll spoil them if you let them get away with raising their voices in public and causing a scene. Don’t ever let them forget their place.”

You felt more than saw both twins bristle on either side of you, and gently squeezed Atsumu’s hand, before laying your hand over the back of Osamu’s neck. You wouldn’t care a bit if they wanted to verbally eviscerate the man who was eying them with clear distaste, a distaste you were almost sure stemmed from jealousy given the lascivious looks he probably thought you hadn’t noticed levelled in your direction. Unfortunately, you also didn’t want them to get into trouble, and weren’t quite sure what the law said about how hybrids were allowed to defend themselves from humans, something you planned to rectify as soon as possible.

For now however you weren’t about to let the twins get in trouble and cut in your tone as cold as you could make it, “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, nor do I care about what you think in the least. I’ll treat them how I want to treat them, which means I’ll spoil and pamper them as much as I like. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself in the future if you want to keep this business running. As it is I’ll be sending my complaint to your superiors. Let’s go guys, we can find other collars elsewhere. It’s not like they’re hard to find.”

“Wait! The chips are already programmed and you haven’t paid,” the manager protested, standing up from the computer looking utterly appalled.

“Should’ve thought of that before your employee opened his mouth, and decided to spew his unwanted bile everywhere,” you countered with a shrug, “I’d consider finding better employees in the future if I were you, or at least teach them to keep their mouths shut.”

“But the chips can’t be removed from these collars, they’ll be completely ruined,” the manager put in, sounding more than a bit despairing.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, feeling genuinely bad for the woman, after all it wasn’t her fault the other employee was an ass, “But that’s not my problem. I refuse to support any sort of business that would treat its customers like this.”

The glare she leveled on her fellow employee was utterly ferocious and had him cowering back in his seat. Not that you could blame her for being upset, each collar was about three hundred USD so the sale they were losing out on was enormous.

“I can offer you a discount?” she tried hopefully, “Fifty percent off?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, but didn’t reply instead turning to look at the twins who’d clearly been more than ready to follow you out of the store, “What do you think?”

“Us?” Atsumu asked, clearly baffled.

“Yes, you,” you told him with a fond smile, “You’re the ones who got insulted, not me, and they’re your collars. I’m happy to buy you whatever you like from wherever you want it, whether that’s here or somewhere else.”

“Seventy-five percent off,” Osamu bargained from her other side, taking you by surprise. You turned to see him watching the manager with shrewd eyes, and when it looked like she would protest he added in, “Seventy-five percent off and we won’t leave bad reviews on every site we can or send letters of complaint to upper management.”

“Agreed,” the manager huffed, shooting another vicious look at her employee, one that clearly read that it would be coming out of his salary.

You huffed, amused at Osamu’s bargaining, gently massaging your thumb against the base of his neck affectionately before releasing both twins and moving to pay, only spending a quarter of what you’d originally planned.

“Nice work,” you praised the silver hybrid once the three of you were out of the store and out of earshot.

Osamu shot you a sly smirk, looking exceedingly pleased with himself as he walked beside you. Atsumu had claimed your hand this time, so he was carrying the bags, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Now that, that’s taken care of, let’s go grab your gifts,” you told the twins, tugging them along to the PineApple store.

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding along beside you, your intertwined hands swinging back and forth between you.

Laughing you simply pulled him with you into the store. Both twins were wide-eyed as you browsed through, clearly unused to the cutting edge technology on display, both of them exceedingly cautious with the expensive looking tech. It took some gentle urging, but eventually you managed to get phones and laptops picked out for each of them.

“Isn’t this too much,” Osamu asked you in an undertone, clearly worried as an employee walked Atsumu through getting his laptop set up. It turned out that of the twins Osamu was definitely more technically savvy and loved his new laptop, though Atsumu had already managed to download several apps and games on to his phone and was thoroughly enjoying them as well, “It’s expensive.”

“I have the money,” you assured him gently, “And besides, everyone has a phone these days. I want you guys to have them in case you get in trouble when I’m not home and need to reach me, like if you got lost or hurt or simply need a human to ensure you’re treated fairly. I’d feel awful if you needed me and I didn’t know.”

“The laptops are so you don’t get too bored at home, though I hope you’ll find things to enjoy outside the apartment too,” you continued, absently stroking your hand up and down his back.

“Will you be wanting hybrid trackers in the new phones?” the employee asked, her voice professional as she began to ring up your purchases.

You hesitated. On one hand you hated the idea of invading the twins privacy, and on the other you knew that you fully intended to let them roam as they pleased so wouldn’t it be better to have the tracker just in case? A quick glance showed that Osamu was impassive as ever, and even Atsumu just looked bored, not paying any attention whatsoever, instead tapping away at his new phone.

“What do you think?” you asked them, more than willing to hear their opinions on the matter.

“You’re the owner,” Osamu told her, apparently speaking for both of them as he gave an unconcerned shrug, which wasn’t helpful in the least.

You grimaced a bit trying to think of a compromise before finally pulling out your own phone and asking the employee, “Is there anyway to ensure all three of the phones will track each other?”

“Let me go ask,” she told you politely, turning away to go grab someone more knowledgeable.

“That’s fair right?” you asked hesitantly, “This way you know where I am too and can come find me if you need me.”

“Yeah,” Osamu agreed, giving you a look that you thought might be something as close to awe as you’d seen on the silver haired hybrid, “Yeah that’s fair.”

The employee quickly returned and confirmed they could indeed make all three phones track one another, and in the span of a few minutes managed to get your purchases complete. Feeling like that was probably enough for now, you led them back towards the car.

It was starting to get pretty late, and the minute you’d exited the mall Osamu’s stomach had given a loud rumbling growl. Atsumu had made fun of him for all of a minute, before his own stomach betrayed him. You’d shaken your head at their antics, but allowed a surprisingly eager Osamu to order whatever he wanted for carryout from the Chinese place near your apartment.

One quick stop for the food, and you finally managed to bring your new hybrids home. Both of them were a little quiet as you led them up to your apartment, staring around and clearly taking everything in. Either Ojirou, Kita and Suna weren’t home, or they’d decided to give you time to settle with the twins as they didn’t emerge from their apartment as you arrived in the hallway and fumbled the door open.

“Here we are,” you told them, hitting the lights, “Home sweet home.”

Both twins were laden with things, carrying their purchases, the food, and their things from the adoption center. Still looking at them was enough to make your heart clench. It had only taken one trip to bring everything up, but despite hybrids being stronger than normal humans it still made your heart clench to see how very little the twins actually had. Each of them only had a medium sized suitcase of things, and Atsumu had a worn volleyball but that was it aside from the things you’d bought them. It was something you were determined to fix for the future, but for now you’d make do.

“I know you’re hungry, so unless you want to settle in for a bit first we can eat and then I’ll show you around,” you offered.

The twins exchanged looks, but nodded in clear agreement. You pointed out the bathroom just in case, but then brought them to the kitchen, trying to show them where everything was as you pulled utensils from the drawers. Osamu clearly paid much more attention to her explanations than Atsumu did, though both diligently helped her set the table.

The food was really good, and thankfully sparked more conversation, even if it was more subdued than earlier, all of them worn out from the long day they’d had. Osamu was clearly very interested in food, and not just in eating it the way his brother was. You managed to coax out that he’d cooked for their previous owner from time to time, and told him that as long as he was careful he was more than free to use her kitchen and anything in it for whatever he wanted earning what felt like her first real smile from the silver haired twin.

Despite how tired they clearly were, both twins helped you clean up. For the first time since you’d first discovered the lovely little Chinese restaurant there weren’t actually any leftovers, the twins having consumed everything you said you didn’t want. As they worked you noted it really was kind of nice, even if things were quiet, to have the company as they went about their tasks.

“Alright, so I wasn’t sure if you’d want your own rooms or if you’d want to share,” you told them, gesturing for them to follow, “We’re going to have to do some shopping either way, since they’re your rooms and I want you to be able to personalize them any way you want, but I think they’re pretty equal in size.”

The twins stared at you, clearly surprised, glancing at each other, to the rooms you’d offered, to you, and back again, the gesture making her more than a bit nervous. You’d thought there was plenty of space for the two of them, but maybe they didn’t see it that way?

“We get our own rooms?” Atsumu asked at last, finally breaking the silence, his voice quiet and disbelieving, copper eyes huge in his face.

“If you want them, then of course they���re yours,” you assured him, concerned, “I still have to clean out my study, but I didn’t want to delay adopting you and I don’t think it will take too long. There’s a pull out futon in there, though you’re more than free to share if you want a bed, or I can take the futon and one of you can have my bed for now. I’ve certainly slept on the futon before and I don’t mind.”

“You’d give up your bed?” Osamu repeated, looking like you’d just smacked him over the head with a fish, more surprise on his face then you’d thought him capable of showing.

“Just until we find something for you,” you told him, a little puzzled at his surprise but with the sinking feeling that your suspicions about their former owner were correct.

“But, why?” Atsumu asked you, wide eyed and a little teary.

“Because, you’re mine now,” you assured him, unable to quite find the words you wanted to say, but hoping you were conveying your feelings at the very least, “And I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe and happy.”

The sad mewling sound he made in response to your words was enough to break your heart, as he pitched forward squeezing you into his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. You pressed your cheek to his hair, rubbing his back soothingly with one arm even as you automatically opened the other one for his twin, a gesture that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

Osamu didn’t sob the way his twin did, but the way he squeezed you tight let you know he was just as moved as Atsumu even if he was quieter about it. Seeing their genuine gratitude for what you felt was common courtesy broke your heart, but even as it ached and you did your best to soothe them you swore to yourself, to love and care for your new hybrids so they’d never want for anything ever again to be the best owner it was possible to be after all they deserved nothing less.

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[yslkook]

BRIGHT (2)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you and jungkook share a moment in a bookstore. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names…bc its me

“Oh, lighten up Jeon,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “You look like someone told you that your cat died.”

“The only kitty he wants won’t give him the time of day,” Mina grins, earning herself a glare from Jungkook.

“More like I can't get her time of day because her stupid best friend has a stick up her ass,” Jungkook mutters.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” Mei observes, “Our baby tattoo artist pining over a girl…”

“If looks could kill, you’d be dead by now, Mei,” Yoongi says pointedly, “Now stop wasting time meddling in Jungkook’s love life, Jin will have all of our heads-”

“Love life? I don’t have a love life,” Jungkook protests, eyes adorably round.

“And that’s why you’re so broody today, honey,” Mina teases, “More so than usual at least.”

“I am not broody,” Jungkook grumbles, turning his back on his laughing coworkers and friends. He can’t help but smile at their teasing.

“Oh, lighten up, Kookie,” Mei says lightly, clapping his shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better, that girl couldn’t stop staring at you at Hobi’s birthday. And she definitely wants a piece of this.”

Jungkook ignores the raucous laughter of his friends (which only increases when Jin comes out from the backroom to add on to his suffering) and the reddening of his cheeks as he gets ready for his full day of tattoo consultations and appointments.

Jungkook’s day ends about an hour earlier than he had anticipated- his last client for the day had to reschedule due to a last minute conflict. That’s fine by him. It gives him time to stop by the bookstore a few blocks away from the tattoo parlor before it closes.

Jungkook tries his best to read at least one new book a month. He’s known the older shop owner, Jia and her young son, Jae-sung, for years now, as he had basically grown up with Jia from childhood.

He loves the quiet of the store and the immediate scent of vanilla and cedar that surrounds him as soon as he walks in. The bookstore itself has a vintage sort of feel, with dimmed lights, old shelves of mahogany and candles placed throughout the store.

Jungkook always brings croissants from the bakery nearby for Jia and little Jae-sung. Usually when he comes by, the bookstore is empty (or close to it).

Jae-sung screeches when he sees Jungkook walk in the door and immediately runs up to him, hugging his legs. Jungkook crouches, ruffling his hair fondly and Jae-sung is nearly bouncing off of the heels of his feet.

“Mommy say she have new book for you, Kookie!” Jae-sung beams, eyeing the box of croissants in Jungkook’s free hand.

“Does she?” Jungkook muses, “Your mommy always knows what kind of books I like.”

“Me too! Me too!”

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jia’s voice filters through the store as she approaches, “It’s been a while.”

“It took me a while to finish the last book. But so worth it,” He says apologetically, “I also brought croissants. Enjoy.”

“You spoil us,” Jia rolls her eyes, “The new arrivals are in the back, third aisle from the left. You know the drill.”

Jia has known Jungkook since he was a baby in diapers- she’s been his aunt’s close friend for years and years now. Jungkook likes to joke that he likes Jia more than his own aunt, and Jia always reprimands him (without really meaning it).

He thought the bookstore was empty, save for Jia and Jae-sung. But he’s clearly mistaken, when he sees a figure in an olive green sweater and black jeans perusing through the new arrivals with their bottom lip tucked between their teeth in concentration.

He recognizes them immediately and when the person raises their head in curiosity, he sees your wide eyes and a shy smile starting to pull across your lips.

You’re here, in his favorite bookstore where he feels like he’s at home. If he was looking for a sign, then this was it.

“Hi,” You say softly, waving your fingers at him, “So you like reading, huh?”

You visibly cringe and Jungkook chuckles. Your cheeks feel warm when you take him in, swirls and dots of his tattoos peeking out of his black leather jacket and beckoning you closer to him. The three hoops in his left ear glint with the light and the dangling earring on his right ear dangles with the movement of his head. His hair is tied back into a ponytail, accentuating the curve of his jaw and his soft dimples.

Your breath is stolen away when you meet his eyes, deep brown and murky, popping against the peach eyeshadow on his eyelids.

You nearly swoon on the spot before you get your bearings. Maybe he’d catch you if your knees buckled, you think dryly. How embarrassing.

“I try reading something new once a month,” Jungkook replies, pulling you out of your reverie, “And I just like the bookstore in general. Sometimes I like to just come here and hang out with Jia and Jae-sung.”

“Oh! Jia makes my favorite lavender chamomile tea. There’s nothing like it,” You say a little dreamily, “Jae-sung is a cutie. That boy can just look at you and you’d be putty in his hands. Kinda like you.”

The last bit slips out of your mouth without you meaning for it to.

“Kinda like me, huh,” Jungkook smirks, eyes glittering, “It would be fun to see if you’d be putty in my hands, wouldn’t it?”

“The world may never know,” You mumble sheepishly and avoid his eyes again, “What kind of book are you looking for?”

“The one you’re holding, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, looking past your shoulder for another copy of the same book.

“Are you looking for this book just because I’m reading it or because you’ve been genuinely eyeing it?” You ask boldly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh, you’re funny,” Jungkook snorts, walking past you to grab the book off of the shelf.

“So I’ve been told,” Your eyes flash, “We should do a boozy book club.”

“Is it a book club if it’s just the two of us?”

“It can be whatever we want it to be,” You shrug, “Besides, don’t you wanna hang out with me?” You tilt your head and Jungkook’s resolve weakens. His heart does something funny- is this how it’s supposed to be?

“Of course I wanna hang out with you, baby,” Jungkook murmurs smoothly, “C’mon, let’s go have some of Jia’s tea. And a croissant too, if Jae hasn’t eaten them already.”

Jungkook glares at Jia the entire time that she’s making tea for both of you. He knows her sly, curious eyes and was unable to keep the surprise off of her face when you had both walked down the stairs together.

She even had the audacity to wink at him. He hopes that the family groupchat doesn’t start blowing up when Jia inevitably informs his aunt and mother about this new development.

“Kookie,” Jae-sung whispers (loudly) when you step away to use the bathroom, “Is dat your girlfriend?”

“What?” Jungkook hisses, “Who told you that?”

“My mommy say I ask you! I not know!”

“No, Jae, that’s not my girlfriend,” Jungkook mumbles, shooting Jia another death glare. She only smiles smugly at him from her spot behind the counter.

Jia leaves him alone for the most part when you return and take your seat next to him. He can still feel her eyes on you both as she washes teacups, watching like a hawk.

“These croissants are so good,” You nearly moan, “Where’d you get them?”

“There’s a bakery near the tattoo parlor,” Jungkook says, “You should come by sometime.”

“The bakery or the parlor?”

“Both?”

“I’ve only been there a few times,” You muse, “I hear you’re the best tattoo artist there. From the mouth of Hobi and Jin themselves.”

“Don’t let Mina and Mei hear you say that,” Jungkook says weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are a little pink and you resist chuckling to yourself.

“I’ve always wanted to get a second piercing,” You trail off, “But never really committed to it.”

“What would you want to get? We do piercings, too,” Jungkook says.

“Cartilage? Industrial? I don’t know,” You shrug, sipping your tea.

“Mina usually has a good eye for that,” Jungkook admits, “Now you have more of a reason to stop by.”

“Oh, I already had a reason to stop by the parlor,” You say brazenly with a sweet smile.

“Is that so?” Jungkook says, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You hum and continue to sip your tea, wondering if he can somehow hear the loud rattling of your eager heart in your ribcage.

Conversation with him comes so easily and you don’t know when the last time you had spent this long with him was. Something always seems to interrupt you both when you eventually do find yourselves alone with each other during outings with friends. But this time, it’s just you and him tucked away in this bookstore.

The sun has long gone down and Jia was about to close the bookstore for the day. In fact, the only reason she kept it open for this long was because of you both. You apologize profusely with worried eyes when you realize the time and see Jae-sung fast asleep in his mother’s arms.

She waves you off, giving Jungkook a lingering look that you don’t understand.

“I’ll be back soon,” You promise Jia in a soft voice, so as to not wake Jae-sung, “Be well, Jia.”

She bids you both goodnight, and unbeknownst to you, she shoots Jungkook a simple text. It states: “keep her close, i like her”.

Jungkook ignores it in favor of focusing on you.

“How you getting home, baby?” Jungkook asks as you both walk up the block shoulder to shoulder.

“Hmm… I’m supposed to meet Sora for dinner but she said she’s stuck at work,” You murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scroll on your phone, “But I was just on social media and it looks like she’s getting drinks with her other friends…”

You look at him with a frown tugging at your lips and your eyes wide. “Maybe it was a last minute thing,” You mumble to yourself.

“Or maybe she lied to you,” Jungkook says sharply. You only look at him in silence for a few moments with furrowed brows.

“Maybe there was a reason,” You shrug, “Why would she lie about that?”

Because she’s Sora, and she just would. But Jungkook stays silent. You don’t need to hear about how he dislikes your best friend, at least not yet. Not when you’re not ready to hear it.

“Forget about her,” Jungkook says easily, “Lemme take you home, baby.”

“I’m not riding that metal death contraption,” You say flatly, “You just got it! Like two weeks ago! You don’t even have an extra helmet, and forget a helmet, I need elbow pads and knee pads-”

“Will you relax,” Jungkook says, putting your books in the small basket he built into the front of the motorcycle.

“No, I will not relax, Jeon Jungkook!” You nearly screech, “This is so dangerous, we could both fall in the road and then what? Become roadkill for the next soccer mom van to run us both over? Death by soccer mom, what a way to go-”

“Are you done?” Jungkook says dryly.

“No, actually, I’m not done-”

“You trust me, baby?” Jungkook asks, hand on your shoulder. You can’t even properly appreciate the warmth of his large hand over your jacket.

“Of course I trust you, I don’t trust that,” You point at the motorcycle accusingly and Jungkook rolls his eyes. You can already feel your resolve weakening. He wordlessly places his own helmet over your own head and you glare at him, about to start your tirade again.

“You take mine,” Jungkook murmurs, “And hold on to me.”

“You can’t just give me your helmet, what if you fall? Or worse, get pulled over?”

“Or worse, get pulled over, are you joking-”

“Jungkook! Be serious!”

“I am being serious! You said you only live ten minutes from here, just relax. I won’t let anything happen to either of us,” Jungkook says, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“If anything happens, it’s your head on a platter and I’m bringing it to the tattoo parlor.”

“How can you do that if we both die?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You say, but a laugh escapes your lips. Jungkook sits on his bike and looks at you expectantly.

“C’mon, baby,” Jungkook coaxes you and you awkwardly sit behind him, making sure that your legs don’t touch his and your arms are safely away from him.

“If you sit like that, you’ll definitely fall off,” Jungkook snorts, “Wrap your arms around me.”

You hesitate, afraid of touching him like this for whatever reason. He unnerves you and you feel completely exposed like this. You’ve never really been this close to anyone, at least anyone who made you feel the way Jungkook makes you feel.

Biting the bullet, you tensely wrap your arms around his narrow waist loosely. “Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, “Tighter, baby. I don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

Your stomach flips at his words, subconsciously wrapping your arms around his narrow waist even more tightly. Your fingers graze the hard press of his tummy over his jacket and you almost moan at how warm and strong he feels. He smells nice, like Sunday morning laundry.

“Ugh, you’re annoying-” And then you shriek as he pulls away from the road and shoots off into the night with you plastered against his backside.

“See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jungkook says, taking the helmet off of you. He’s met with a glare but you sigh in defeat.

“No, I guess it wasn’t. But I never want you driving this hunk of death without a helmet for yourself,” You say, poking his chest.

“You should be nicer to her,” Jungkook says, taking your finger in his large hand.

“You’re right, it’s you that I should be mean to,” You roll your eyes. You wonder if Jungkook could feel your heart slamming in your chest (in fear, adrenaline and excitement) as you hung tight to him. You had refused to look up, pressing your face into his back and squeezing your eyes shut the entire way. Jungkook had only chuckled.

The heat in your eyes melts away quickly once Jungkook helps you off of the motorcycle. “Thanks for taking me home, Jungkook,” You murmur, “I’m glad I ran into you at the bookstore.”

“Any time, baby,” Jungkook says. A strand of dark hair falls from his ponytail and into his face. You reach your fingers up to thread through his hair before pushing it back behind his ear for him.

“Get home safe,” You say, with stars in your eyes, “Can I hug you?” When he nods, and before you can change your mind or convince yourself out of it, you wrap your arms around him. And before he can properly return it, you dash into your apartment building while calling out “text me when you get home!”

Hours later, when he’s in the comfort of his home, he decides that he likes the way your spicy vanilla scented perfume clings to his leather jacket.

tags: @kookdbean @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria

[katzkinder]

Valentine's Day Headcanons!

A day early bc I'll be busy the day of |D If some of these look familiar to you, congrats! You found my Twitter!

Mahiru sets up a chocolate making class at the request of his female classmates one year, and they repay the favor on the fourteenth. The truth is, their “Thank you” choco is actually honmei meant for him. In past years, they were too shy to give him what they thought was "subpar" chocolate, because, well, who wants to give a guy they like something worse than what he can make himself? Unfortunately, Mahiru is rather dense and didn't notice. He really thought they were just trying to show him how much they improved!

When Mikuni was younger his desk and shoe locker were always full of Valentine’s (despite attending an all boys school, he was still a Prince ww). Instead of eating them, he’d bring them right home to share with his baby brother, the only owner of his heart. Misono always got the pick of the lot, and Lily always felt a little bad for the people trying to give Mikuni a token of their affections.

One of Licht's sponsors gifted him ruby chocolate once, and as it turns out, both he AND lawless like the stuff. It’s got a natural pink-red color and a fruity flavor to it that ends on a tart note. It really is super tasty, and even people who aren't necessarily a fan of sweets might enjoy it for the novelty alone. It really does taste like there's fruit in it, despite there being no fruit at all.

Lily receives lot of treats on Valentine’s Day from the maids. Most of them are children he saved, including Yamane! Even if White Day is the main affair when it comes to showing how much they love him, his children, both grown and not, don’t ever forget about their Lily. After all, Valentine's Day is about showing you care!

Ildio is the type where if the chocolate is too cute, he can’t eat it. Kitty donuts? Adorable puppy cookies? Tiny piggy shaped chocolates? He physically cannot do it. Instead it just sits and goes bad until he's forced to throw it out...

Shuuhei isn’t very popular, so all he gets from work is obligation chocolate… He doesn’t really mind though. The yearly slightly burnt chocolate he receives from his little sister and his childhood friend are enough to make him happy. ... And give him a stomach ache. He thought he might need those stomach meds today...

For Tsurugi, the perfect gift is a dark chocolate truffle with strawberry cream filling. Not only is it something he likes, it’s something he can share with Touma, too.

Of course Freya won’t leave her boys out of the Valentine's Day festivities, and to show her appreciation for her subclass, Gil and Ray receive a delicious Chocolate Apple Crumble each. It’s sweet, it’s chocolatey, and it’s made with love. Gil's gets a little more extra attention since his birthday is so close to Valentine's Day, but that's because... Ray and Iduna help to make it! Somehow, this year, it doesn't look as nice...? Rip to Iduna, baking is not her strong suit. Thankfully, Freya is there to help her be a little more patient.

Every year, Nicco gives his sister a bouquet of beautiful deep pink roses and looks after his niblings so that she and her husband can go out and enjoy themselves. A trip to the kid’s favorite gelateria is eminent, where they'll be spoiled, just a little, just a teensy tiny bit, by their ever doting zio. There's something about a man who's good with kids that drives the local girls nuts, or maybe it's because it's specifically the Don of Carpediem that they sigh so wistfully?

And finally, the Valentine's Day after the vampire war ends is a very special one for Misono. Not only is it the first time he gets to have a birthday party with friends, it’s also the first time since he was 8 that he gets to receive a present from Mikuni in person. Happy Birthday Misono, and a happy early Valentine's to all of you! <3

[strawb3rryw00]

macchiato pt. 7 ♡ woo wonjae x female reader

warnings -> rude fans

synopsis -> y/n and wonjae are exposed to the public eye

fluff, suggestive, angst ? ig

~♡~

It’s been a month since Wonjae has released his album. He’s been relaxing, only doing shows here and there. He occasionally is in his studio or is simply at AOMG for meetings, but it’s a rarity that his whole day his booked. He spends most of his free time with you or Sungwoo or even both. You and his best friend are very similar and get along easily so he enjoys spending time with you both. He’s even grown more comfortable hanging out with you and Ash, the two growing a weird brotherly bond that you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to.

You and Wonjae weren’t necessarily dating, but you were together. He considered you his and you considered him yours. You hadn’t kissed yet, youve been given the chance to kiss him but you’ve been wanting him to make the first move, it’s been extremely comical placing bets with Sungwoo and Jinyoung to see when he’s going to finally make the move.

Over this month more AOMG label members have been coming to your cafe, thus bringing more attention from fans and more customers. You’ve had to hire three new people to help with the day shifts, while you still continue to handle the overnight shifts that have grown slightly busier due to the fans trying to get a glimpse of their favorite rappers. Before, you already had a good amount of Jinyoungs fans coming to the cafe. His fans know of you as his friend as you’ve been posted a few times on his instagram account. But with AOMG being a bigger label with bigger names, more fans have came to the cafe.

Thus Wonjae’s nightly visits are cut short. He comes in, buys his coffee, chats for as long as he can before leaving. Sometimes he’ll cut through the alley and make his way to your apartment, other times you make your way to his studio or home after your shift. He wants to keep the relationship hidden right now because he’s unsure of how fans would react and doesn’t want something happening to you. Since everyone who comes in knows you’re the owner.

“y/n,” You hear Wonjae whine, pulling your attention from the fluffy cat to the speaker. He lays on his bed on his stomach, hanging half way off in an attempt to reach you. His fingertips barely graze your arm.

“Yes?” You reply, eyes focusing back on the loving cat in your lap.

“When you come over it’s to see me you know?” He huffs, pushing himself all the way back on the bed. A pout rests on his face, slightly annoyed with the lack of attention.

“Sorry kitty, your dad doesn’t want me to love on you any more.” You coo before joining Wonjae on the bed. He immediately throws himself over you, head nuzzled into your neck.

He’s probably the most touchy and clingy person you’ve ever met. It doesn’t bother you, but it’s almost shocking how much he touches you. He’ll always have a hand on your body somehow as if he’s afraid of forgetting what the feeling of your skin is like.

“You smell like coffee beans.” He hums into your skin, taking a deep inhale.

“Hm that’s odd.” You say, your voice laced with sarcasm.

Wonjae sits his head up and looks at you. “It’s my favorite smell,” He smiles. You catch his eyes flicker to your lips, your heartbeat quickening at the thought of finally kissing him, and winning the bet with Sungwoo and Jinyoung.

He doesn’t lay his head back down, instead he leans closer to you, eyes never leaving yours. You’ve never seen him look this confident and sure of himself. “I’m going to kiss you,” his voice is almost a whisper, lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

“Then do it baby,” You grin.

He connects your lips, butterflies blossoming in your stomach like fire crackers. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are soft and plump, moving against yours gently. They mold perfectly with yours as they move in sync, Wonjaes tongue gently pushing past your lips to get a taste. His hand slides up from your waist, to your neck, thumb grazing your jaw. You never want it to end, everything feels so good.

Yet, Wonjae pulls away, looking you in the eyes and giving you a gentle peck with a slight smirk on his face. “Ive never made you blush before, you look so flustered.” He teases, thumb running along the warmth of your cheeks.

“Fuck you,” you feign annoyance, attempting to turn your head away to hide the blush but Wonjae tenses his arms to keep you from doing that.

“Baby I wasn’t done yet,”

~♡~

You and Wonjae have been doing a very good job at staying hidden from the public eye, but somehow you both get caught walking out of his apartment and to his car despite the empty streets. It’s as if you both were being stalked.

Right before you can get to his car, a group of teenage girls are surrounding the two of you with their phones in your face. It’s so overwhelming that you can’t even decipher what they’re really saying. You only hear bits and pieces. You look to Wonjae for help, but he’s just as shocked and frightened as you.

“Hey guys can we please get some space!” You voice comes out in a shout, attempting to push through the crowd to break free from the flashes from their camera. As you try to shove your way through, you accidentally elbow one of the girl’s phones, causing it to hit the pavement, screen down.

“I’m so sorry, you were just really close and -“ you frantically attempt to apologize, reaching to pick up her phone for her before she slaps your hand to stop you.

“The fucking screen cracked, who the fuck do you think you are?”

You’re slightly taken aback at the harshness of her tone, jaw slack and eyebrows scrunched. Wonjae grips your arm and drags you to his car, quickly opening the door for you before practically sprinting to his door to be able to get in and get away.

Yet the girls follow, making it almost impossible for Wonjae to get in. He’s attempting to try to get through them to the drivers seat but the phones are all on you.

“I thought you were dating Ash? Does he know you’re with Wonjae?!” They hit you with questions left and right, your eyes wide.

“Ash and I are just-“

“Don’t you own that ugly coffee shop? Why are you here with our Wonjae instead of working?”

Wonjae finally managed to push through. “Please just leave us alone,” He pleads, struggling to shut the door as he turns his car on.

He speeds away from the girls, making sure to be careful and not hit one of them. “y/n, I’m so sorry.” Wonjae’s voice breaks, sounding as if he’s about to cry himself. That situation was definitely a lot for the both of you.

“It’s ok, I’m sorry too.” You look back, relieved to see theyre not following you. “What if they show up to my store.” You worry theyre going to do something to your precious babies or employees.

Wonjae frowns, frantically driving towards The Naked Bean. “I-I-I’m sorry.” Is all he’s able to say. “That’s never happened to me, my fans normally aren’t like that.” Wonjae sounds like he’s trying to hold back tears at this point.

Once at the shop, Wonjae heads up to your apartment through the alley while you make your way inside to the cafe. “How’s it been?” You ask, picking up a cat from a tower on your way towards the counter.

“There was some of Wonjae hyungs fans in here asking for him,” Your employee says, earning a soft sigh in return.

“You guys can head on home, I’m closing for the time being.”

You quickly close down the cafe, shutting the blinds and curtains, ushering the cats up stairs and leaving a sign on the door that says. “Closed temporarily for safety reasons.” You hope that will give some fans the message.

You lock the doors and walk up the stairs to find Wonjae wiping tears from his cheeks. “I closed for the night,” You inform him, sitting next to him and throwing your legs over his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning into your side. “I never thought something like that would happen. I feel like i’ve put your business in jeapordy.” He sounds as if he’s about to start crying again.

Wonjae spends the rest of the night apologizing every time he sees a video on his phone or reminds himself of what happened. You spend the rest of the night reassuring him that it’s okay, while also trying to figure out a way to avoid further conflict.

“I’m really sorry. I’ll stop making music so I lose fans so that doesn’t happen again.” Wonjae speaks up after moments of silence in eachother arms.

“Wonjae id never ask you to stop making music. I promise its okay.” You do admit it was scary and you’re worried for how the future is going to play out. But it’s out of Wonjae’s control so there’s no sense in being mad at him.

“I just,” He sighs, pulling you closer to him for comfort. “I just don’t want you to leave me because it this.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

~♡~

AHHHHHHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOYED YALL FINALLY SMOOCHING. i couldn’t sleep so i decided to write for y’all <3

[b0rista]

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.

"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."

with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.

as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.

with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.

prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.

^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.

at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.

if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍‍♀️

HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.

in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.

"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.

you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.

the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.

"connie, you're getting seXY-"

"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"

many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.

"marry me."

another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."

it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.

he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.

he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.

when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness. 

as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.

speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.

there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.

he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.

his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.

after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺

during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"

y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.

eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.

and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.

expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.

[docholligay]

An Overwatch Christmas Carol: Stave III---The Second of the Spirits

Hello there! The third part of this is up up up, and at 11,000 words I know it’s long, so if you wanted to read it in parts that’s great and okay! I worked hard on this and I hope you like it! 

Her alarm struck, though she had not set it, and she felt at her own body as she awoke from the horrible nightmare. 

Ana, like most people of her ilk, believed herself ready in any moment for any sort of thing that came her way, that she could master it, and tolerate it, and come out victorious. So have all of us, in a moment where we are very courageous in our own homes and beds, said that same. And so despite the harrowing nature of what she had just experienced, it seemed to Ana Amari that anything between a children’s choir and an army might have been just as expected. 

But what Ana was most unnerved by, and utterly unprepared for, was nothing. The alarm sounded, and still it stayed dark, a cold, and quiet, just as her room had always been, and no matter how many times she looked over to the clock, at five, ten, or twenty minutes, still the same nothing answered her back. This was enough to make her brave, as it might us all, and so she spat her words into the darkness. 

“Ridiculous.” 

There was a light from the other room, at that, peeking and shining under the door with a brilliance Ana did not know.. The apartment in Brixton was tiny and dark, and would never have been accused of any manner of warmth by anyone, and yet now the light coming from the living room was golden and warm, dancing light firelight on the walls despite there being no fireplace anywhere near the building. 

“Right then!” There was a chipper, high voice from the other room, “Come on! Christmas is ‘alf over already!” 

Ana stepped out of bed, creeping toward the door. There had been Jack, and there had been Reinhardt, and despite herself, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that it was all something in her mind. And she knew that voice, had known it for more years than semed reasonable, when she reflected upon it. 

She turned the corner into the living room. There was a tree brightly festooned with ornaments and tinsel, and while it might not have been the finest tree in the world it had clearly been dressed with great enthusiasm. There were stockings hung from the edge of the window, carefully nailed in, mismatched and well-loved. The room rang with an echo of laughter, almost as a chorus, but one voice above them all. 

And, on what had been her coffee table, now grown long and covered with a white cloth, a grand feast, ham with a rich, shiny, glaze, turkey overflowing with stuffing, rich turnip and parsnip gratin, dripping with sauce, bowls full of roasted potatoes and mashed potatoes, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire puddings, and mince pies with brandy butter. 

Tracer sat cross-legged on the end of it, in a bright green sweater, which looked thick and soft even from this distance, a crown of red and green gold star tinsel, mixed here and there with  jingle bells, on her head. There was a Christmas pudding in front of her, and she popped a bit into her mouth before she looked up and saw Ana. She swallowed, licked the fork, and grinned. 

“Right then.” She set down the plate, and leapt to her feet, “Come on! Christmas is ‘alf over already!” 

Ana opened her mouth to protest, but if she had to hear another lecture about narrative structure and known mythologies, she was going to lose whatever was left of her mind. Besides, she had little belief that Tracer would care much about her own feelings on Christmas, and even smaller still was that small pang of regret, the part from last Christmas still dancing in her mind. 

“You already said that.” She allowed. 

Tracer stood up straight for a moment, and considered, hand at her chin. “I did, didn’t I?” she laughed. “Was right both times!” 

Lena Oxton had died. Ana knew this. She knew it in the same way that she knew Jack had died, and Reinhardt had died, and she had attended their funerals, and she had seem them burned or buried. But Tracer’s death was newer to her, having been an interruption to the month of November, the dirt on her grave not quite settled. 

It was as, well, unsettling, as her encounter with Reinhardt had been. The room seemed to respond to her, the lights twinkling when she laughed, the smell of the Christmas feast following her about the room like a cologne. The flames seemed to dance and she bopped about the place, and it was only in that moment, Tracer’s eyes glittering brightly, that Ana noticed something. 

She wore no chronal accelerator. Ana never would have remembered her without it. 

Too much. Draw back. 

“You look fairly good, for someone who has been dead for six weeks.” Ana snorted. 

Tracer’s eyes narrowed, and the cheer left her face. 

“Don’t get smart with me Ana, not in the mood.” She scowled, “Doing this for Jack, because I said I would, so I did, and I’m a woman of me word. But don’t think I particularly feel any sorrow over the idea of you spending the rest of your life alone. I don’t, not a drop.” 

Ana opened her mouth for a moment, and then reconsidered. The image of Jack in her mind, of him somehow gathering this group of people beyond the grave to help her, the constant reiteration that this was her last chance, somehow for once in her life, Ana Amari could not come up with some sharp rebuke. 

She looked straight ahead, and frowned, adjusting her scarf. “The night will be over before you know it, so, let’s go.” 

Tracer nodded. “Right then.” She snapped her fingers, and the two them exploded into sparks against the night, rushing off into the present. 

They were outside as the morning sun shone brightly through the streets of London, even the fog feeling it must cast away into the night and not disturb the sacred joy of that beautiful and crisp day. There was the smallest dust of snow on the ground, though you would have been forgiven for thinking it was so much more for the delight in children’s eyes as they gazed out of their windows. 

Tracer ran down the sidewalk, jumped, grabbed onto a pole and swung back toward Ana, all in one swift motion, landing right in front of her, eyes glittering. 

“Christmas morning!” She gestured grandly, London caught in a sort of pause, the hurry Ana was used to at seven am only a distant memory. “‘appy Christmas, London!” 

Tracer rushed over to where a bunch of pigeons were cuddled on the eave of a window, and pulled two large handfuls of birdseed out of her pockets, tossing it all in front of them. 

“‘Appy Christmas, little ones!” 

“Did you just have that--” 

But Tracer was already off, running through the sidewalks and stopping wherever she found someone to greet. A happy Christmas to the little dog with a biscuit, a happy Christmas to his owner with a box of tea, pulled from that same pocket. A happy Christmas to the nurse just walking to home, hoping her husband could distract the kids long enough so she could see them open presents, a gift card to the Pret by the hospital pressed into her hand even as she looked confused. A happy Christmas to the bus driver with a bottle of scotch, rested by his side with bow. . 

Eventually, Tracer seemed to realize herself, and broke into a laugh that seemed to ripple through the street, the lights glowing a touch brighter as she did it, even the icy lace on the windows seeming to glitter just a little more brightly as she dashed back toward Ana. 

“Right, right, I,” She dramatically paused in front of Ana, “Love Christmas. But you don’t ‘ave to!” She interrupted Ana’s protest, “For that isn’t the real point, not ‘ere, is it?” 

“Giving people all these things, but,” Ana shook her head. “Is the point that people will be driven into debt over it? That it’s an excuse to press honest people into working more and harder, and later? The Christmas spirit, for sale at Mark and Spencer’s.” 

“Marks and Spencer, but I’ll allow it.” She rocked back on her heels. “There are plenty of people who don’t understand the meaning of what Christmas is, and often they’re the ones with the biggest trees, and that’s the God’s honest truth. What I show you ‘ere? Ought to be in every day. Every where. Because it isn’t about any ‘oliday, or turkey, or nothing. Is it, Ana Amari?” 

She drew something out of her pocket, a small gold book,, maybe the size of a credit card, and she flipped it open before pressing it into Ana’s hand. A picture of her and Pharah, Pharah only a baby, long ago and oh so far away. They both looked so different. So full of promise. 

“Come on, Ana, there is just so much to see.” 

She looked up from it only to realize that they were inside someone’s living room, parents looking at each other with tired eyes as a little girl ran happily around a dollhouse, placing the furniture in this room or that. 

“Up all night constructing it, they was,” She shook her head, the bells tinkling, “but it ‘ardly matters. Was all she wanted, right?” 

Tracer drew something out of her pocket, and knelt down next to the girl’s dollhouse, nearly nose to nose with her. Ana, whatever Reinhardt might think, had listened to him, and assumed the same was true here, that they could neither see nor hear the two of them, but the girl paused and looked in Tracer’s direction with such intensity that Ana wondered for a moment. Tracer put something in her palm, and closed her hand around it, smiling. 

Tracer jumped back up next to Ana and threw an arm around her, Ana shrugging it off just as quickly as the little girl opened her hand. 

“Look! Mummy! Daddy! It’s a kitty just like Patch! I didn’t seen it before oh it’s just like her!” 

Her parents looked confused, each looking at the other, but the little girl was radiant in that moment of joy, and though Ana refused to look over at Tracer, she could feel the happiness pouring  off her. 

“I don’t know what you--”

“Next!”

But Tracer’s fingers snapped again, and they found themselves back in Brixton, outside of Ana’s apartment building with the falling, tattered awnings over crumbling bricks at windows. It was nothing to look at, but at least it was a place to sleep, and that was all the more Ana thought of it. It looked particularly dreary, if she were being honest, today, where she could see the scraps of Christmas trees in windows, and plenty without, people like her who didn’t participate in the nonsense of Christmas, who were fully cognizant that nothing changed on one day, no matter when that day was. 

“Up she goes!” 

Tracer grinned brightly, jumped on top of a dumpster out back, and grabbed onto the drainpipe, the tinsel in her hair shimmering in the dim morning light, throwing off stars into the daytime. She quickly began to shimmy up, humming “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” as she did so. 

“Tracer,” She crossed her arms and stared up at her, “I have a key.” 

“...You better not pout, I’m telling you why,” Another pull up the pipe, “Lena Claus is coming, to town,” she looked back down at Ana and shook her head merrily, “No you don’t! Left it in your room, then, didn’t you?” 

She did not wait for an answer, simply started back up the pipe, as Ana felt for a pocket that she realized wasn’t there. 

“Tracer.” 

“What?” She turned around, swinging out with one arm, “Bit too old for this, Amari? I could do it all day.” 

Ana huffed, but scrambled up onto the top of the dumpster and grabbed the pipe. 

“Death has done wonders for you health, but not your attitude, Oxton!” 

Tracer nodded. “That IS true.” 

Ana began to climb behind her, grumbling as her hands tried to gain purchase on the cold drainpipe, her hands aching with the swell in her knuckles. Feeling her age, a bit, but also feeling a bit of something else, something she could not quite place. She looked up at Tracer above her, still climbing, toward the third floor, occasionally giving a bit of a bounce, or a swing. 

Perhaps it was a bit....bad. It was true, that Tracer was well in a way Ana had not seen her in more than a year, and that was all she had said. But there was a sudden realization that Tracer so loved this moment, with a glowing smile and a song on her lips, because she was still basking in the joy of what it was to have her body obey her again, just as it had for years. It felt unkind, even if it wasn’t unfair, to criticize her for it, and she could not remember having had the feeling much before, least of all with Tracer. 

“....Just you wait, poppet, got all her gifts ‘ere in her back trouser pocket, Lena Claus is coming to town…” 

Ana struggled to pull herself up, slipping a bit on the iciness of the pipe. 

Maybe not that bad. 

“That doesn’t rhyme!” Another small slip, and a scowl as one of her slippers dangled off her foot. 

“Slant rhyme, innit?” Tracer looked in a window, “Good enough for Shakespeare, good enough for me. ‘Ere we are!” She cocked her head and laughed down to Ana, her nose wrinkling, with its spray of freckles gathering like bunches of holly, those lights in all the windows bouncing again, along with her. 

Ana slipped again, and felt her foot give way, but with a snap of Tracer’s fingers, they were inside a beige-walled apartment much like Ana’s, same layout, same unloveable carpet, same cheap seaming at the windows, but oh, so much more crowded. Not that it was particularly hard to do, but Ana looked at a man and a woman, sitting on their small threadbare couch together, a toddler sitting on the woman’s lap as the two of them directed the three other little children around the tiny apartment, with only a small smattering of toys to distract them. 

Despite this, the apartment felt warmer than Ana’s own ever had, more filled with light despite the bareness of the walls, and maybe it was only the smile between the parents and their children, or maybe it was the chatter in a language Ana did not know, but knew the feeling of without having to understand the meaning, but somehow she felt a certain twinge of what she had felt all those years ago in that miserable military camp, all those Christmases ago. 

She resented it. 

“I suppose I’m supposed to be amazed it’s Christmas here, too?” She glanced sidelong at Tracer. 

Tracer jumped up onto the back of the couch and sat there, cross-legged, shaking her head. “Ana, s’not Christmas here, they’re Muslim, don’t you notice anything? Thought you was,” she made her hands into claws, “the Shrike!” 

Ana glowered, unable to decide if she were more annoyed at herself or at Tracer, and glanced around. Of course she would have noticed, if she had a moment, if she hadn’t been waiting for whatever lesson Tracer meant to lay upon her. 

“Our point in being here, isn’t Christmas at all, as I said.” Tracer pointed to the both of them. “Inconvenienced by Christmas more than anything, they are. All the schools closed, all the meal programs off or offering a bit of ‘am, nothing really to make them keep the slightest bit merry in all the world. But...look at them. ‘Appy to spend the day with their little family.  New to London, right, and filled with something like the Christmas spirit. And that, Ana, is ‘ope. That, Ana, is universal.” 

Ana huffed. “They have nothing.” she pointed her chin to the kitchen, where daal and rice cooked, spiced carefully and beautifully, “Such a meager feast.” 

“But very appreciated!” Tracer jumped off the back of the couch and shuffled toward the tiny corner of the apartment that served for a kitchen. “She’s been working plenty ‘ard, for the meal they ‘ave here. Everyone knows it.” 

The family chattered happily, even as the father had to rise and place a sweater in the sill of the window to keep out the chill from the cold wind that dared to slip inside, and even as the mother smiled sadly toward the large pan on the stove, her eyes full of wishing for something else. But neither of those small, tiny regrets seemed to be able to steal the joy they had at simply being with their children, despite missing a day’s work, despite missing out on the childcare, despite all the things Ana might have laid, not unfairly, at Christmas’ feet, a sense of pleasantness seemed to endure, like cider hanging in the air long after the drink is gone. 

“I--” Ana began to say something, something in the back of her mind, and then shook it away. 

Tracer nodded, as if knowing that the bounds of this room had been reached in their capacity to teach her student. 

“Need to see something a bit more familiar, don’t you? Come on then!” Tracer walked over to the door, and opened it, ushering Ana through, who came along, though grumbling. 

Tracer reached into her pocket and materialized a large cardboard tray, laden so heavily with delicacies that Tracer had to catch it with her other hand. Biryani chock full of meat, paratha so decadent that it looked as if it might melt under the simple wave of Tracer’s hand, sweet rice smelling richly of cinnamon and raisins, and things Ana did not even know, but made her feel a pang of jealousy and hunger all the same. 

Tracer went to knock on the door, thought a moment, and as a sparkle fell from her fingertips, she drew a Christmas pudding out of her pocket, sauce dripping over the sides, nuts and fruits bright on the top. 

“Just so as to welcome them to the neighborhood, try something new, as well.” 

She set it down with the rest of the food, and then knocked. There was a call from inside and the swiftest patter of feet as a little boy rushed and opened it, even as his father rose from the couch to call after him. At seeing Tracer, his eyes grew wide, but Tracer smiled as she put a finger to her lips, and with one last slip into that pocket, took out a 100 pound note and tucked it next to the pudding. 

She turned and quickly went down the hallway, giggling as the father looked all about the place, unable to see anything at all, while the little boy broke into a bright smile himself, and waved. 

Ana found herself waving back, and then stopped herself when she saw Tracer, hands in her pockets, grinning with such a luminosity that Ana would have sworn the hallway was brighter than it had ever dared to be. 

“So you are what, Noel Baba now? Must be nice, to be so easily loved.” 

“Oh!” She slid down the bannister, and at the end, let herself fall into a somersault and popped back up to her feet in one smooth motion. “I’d love to be Father Christmas, really! But of course, no, there’s no real Father Christmas, so near as I know, but, we all sort of are, right? Father Christmas, and all of us spirits, can only come once a year, and so how lucky and powerful can we be? You, on the other ‘and, ‘ave seen that family at the little mail cubbies for six months now, innit?” 

And did not reply, but it was certainly true, that she had seen her. That she had noticed the mother trying to wrangle to children, and the father’s long hours, and the mother has once admired, in halting English, Ana’s scarf, seeming slightly shy of the ragged edge of her own. She had told Ana her name. 

Ana could not remember it. 

“Always ‘ad the power to do what I did, on any given day, right? Could ‘ave given them all that, but didn’t. Could ‘ave given the bus driver what takes you every day a gift, as well. You’ve ‘ad enough chance to be that bearer, Ana. You waste it, and you can’t pin that on me, not rightly.” 

Ana walked down the stairs after her. “I live on the next floor, you have taught me enough--” 

But as she stepped down another stair, her foot plunged into the snow on the sidewalk, and she looked up. On a simple street, still being rebuilt after the Battle, but about half redone with a grocery store and several apartment building patched back together. But even the ruins were decked with lights here and there, a bit of English humor at the edges of a healing misery. 

“Things like that,” she felt compelled to defend herself, “are only patches on, on a bigger problem.” 

Tracer stopped her walking and turned around. “Right then, so you go about with an ‘ole in your trousers til you can buy new? Mustn’t bother with a patch, of course not.” 

She looked over Ana as they stood, nearly nose to nose. Tracer’s eyes did not linger, and never had so long as Ana had known her. They flitted, instead, like a hummingbird, from moment to moment and bit to bit, but somehow you got the sense that she was taking in all of you, whether you particularly wanted her to or not. In her eyes, Ana saw reflected bright lights of gold and white and green, though she did not recall there being lights so near. 

She was still smiling, had never stopped, and this perhaps annoyed Ana worst of all. 

Tracer cocked her head, and she took a step back, looking up and down at Ana. 

“Like there’s no point in apologizing, right?” 

“I tried--” 

Tracer burst out laughing. “Oh, right, right! When you told ‘er that it wasn’t as if your mum were there for you, and so she might as well get over it and see a therapist? Some apology, I’ll say.” Tracer spun around in a pirouette, but than turned back. “And still--” 

“Fareeha is a military woman. More even than me. To the good.  She works things out in probability, in risk, in order. What would be the benefit of sentimentality, for all that? She does not do things that don’t benefit her. She hasn’t since she was a child. She had a plan, even then. She does what needs doing and I--there’s no reason I would fit into that.” 

Tracer looked at her moment, and gave a confused shake of the head. “You really don’t know her at all, do you? No more, at least, than any clerk in the new office, and that’s the truth.” She did not give Ana a chance to respond, to argue. “Come on, then! Let me introduce you to your daughter.” 

Tracer threw her arm around Ana’s shoulder, and though she took a deep breath and tried very calmly not to sock her right in the jaw, she had to admit that the warmth she had felt in those other rooms, she wanted to feel in Pharah’s home. She wanted to know what it might feel like to have the warmth of Pharah’s love, something that had been lost to her for so long. 

Ana had never been to see the apartment they moved into after the Battle for London, and nearly paused for a moment as Tracer let go of her and jumped on the railing and then through the window, but the snap of her fingers gave no moment to think more of it. Their old place, she knew, had been destroyed, parts of it simply cratered in, Pharah rifling through what they had to try and reconstruct their belongings. Mercy, of course, had gone to pieces, by Ana’s measure, some memory of childhood bothering her enough that she kept her distance. The new place had been built of an old shell, like so many things in London, and Pharah had taken pains with the layout. It was a lovely place, bright and welcoming without being devoid of a certain peculiar charm, seeming less like a new-constructed box and more like it might have been in London all this time, even from the inside. 

The furniture was new, and tidy, and Ana nearly laughed to see what she assumed could only be her daughter’s way of making sure everything had its place, and was put into it. Little cubbyholes built in by the door for shoes, books organized by subject and alphabetized, a few lying on the dark coffee table near where Mercy sat, reading one of them. But it was not without its hominiess, the smell of Mercy’s coffee in the air, and even Ana was not immune to it, walking to the mantle over a small fireplace, where a few framed pictures nestled among bright silver and blue garlands. 

“A bit personal innit?” Tracer looked at the mantle herself, ‘Not quite the barracks you imagined.” 

Ana let her fingers rest on a picture of Pharah and Mercy at their wedding, smiling under the chuppah, the pink roses and daisies in Mercy’s hands blooming brightly. Pharah’s hair was in a low ponytail, tightly held and shining, but she wore still the small gold charm in her hair, as she had for so many years. No longer, of course, not after everything that had happened between them.

Ana gave a mirthless chuckle, “All Angela’s, even before she was punishing me.” 

Tracer grabbed at the picture. “She built that chuppah herself, you know. So it’d be a piece of her that was also Ang’s dream. Didn’t put it that way, of course, Fareeha, but that’s what it was.” 

There were other pictures, crowded family tables and smiling faces in different locations--bright beaches and a ski chalet, even one at Disneyland Paris all of them squeezed into the frame together. There were, of course, none of Ana. 

Tracer pointed to one at the edge of the mantle, Pharah and Tracer side by side as comrades they could not have imagined becoming, everything bright and green around them, both smiling, Tracer holding onto an iron gate, but her other arm firmly around Pharah. Pharah wore her usual deep blue, and Ana found herself jealous at the tightness of her grip on Tracer, the way they grinned at each other, Pharah’s other hand at her shoulder. 

“She cared for me, you know.” Tracer said, tapping at the edge of the picture. 

“Yes,” Ana rolled her eyes and turned away from the mantle, her voice brisker and more cold than even that wind outside “I know, she preferred you to me, because she preferred anyone to me, if this is your point I can just go home, because--” 

“Bloody ‘ell, Ana, it’s not what I said!” Tracer scowled, the lights in her eyes near to bursting with the heat of lost patience. “You are so bloody lucky I owe both Rein and Jack a bloody fucking SCORE of favors--” 

“--Well, you don’t owe me any, so you can just--” 

“God no, you’d ‘ad to ‘ave done something kind for me even once for me to owe you--” 

“--Oh, poor pitiful Lena, as if you don’t have enough adoration, you attention hou--” 

“--You meanspirited little desert rat, ought to let you rot, I ought--” 

“--You don’t know the first thing about--” 

“SHE’S ‘OLDING ME UP IN THIS PICTURE!” Tracer had taken it, and held it in front of Ana’s face. Angela looked up from her book, around the room for a moment, confused, and both Ana and Tracer fell quiet. “Didn’t notice, did you? When you looked? But she is. Was just after me last birthday. Couldn’t really stand on me own much.” 

Ana took the picture from her and looked down at it. Of course it was clear, looking at it now. Pharah's arm was at her waist, and her thumb was looped into Tracer’s belt loop, holding her close to Pharah’s solidness. Her other hand was at Tracer’s shoulder, steadying her, as Tracer did her best to hold herself up. She should have seen it. 

Tracer took it back from her and placed it back on the mantle. “Not many people see that, when they look, because that’s way with Fareeha, right? I meant--and you never knew this--she literally helped take care of me.”

“No benefit to ‘er, mostly a drain on ‘er already limited time, being as she was running all of Overwatch herself. But from the time I started to need a bit of ‘elp, now and again,” she passed a hand across the pictures, and small whirls opened, showing she and Pharah together, in a park, in Tracer’s bedroom, out on Winston’s patio, poring over paperwork, simply sharing a lunch together, “Every Thursday, eight to eight, she did. Earlier, it was Overwatch paperwork,” she touched the edge of that whirl in its frame, and it came alive, she and Pharah arguing playfully over a stack of papers, “Pretending it was on business. Got to be more and more, of course. Took the pressure off Em and Win, when I couldn’t ‘ardly do nothing for meself. Cooked, did the washing,” she touched the edge of another photo, and the two of them were in a dark pub, Tracer in a corner chair with the table tucked up close to her, “Got me out the ‘ouse, when she could. When I could, honestly. And,” her voice got soft, “at the fag end of it all…” 

She touched the edge of a silver frame, the whorl opening just a little more to show Pharah feeding Tracer, Tracer’s body trembling. 

Ana looked at the photos, and then over toward the window, where a soft morning snow was falling, so heavy in the drifts that it was easy to forget that it was built of delicate individual lace. Had she been gone from her daughter’s life for so much of that year? She had known that Pharah had assumed the duties of Overwatch, that she was often too busy to be seen, but she had pictured something so much different. So much more in the ways that Ana had isolated herself. 

“You know,” Tracer passed a hand over all the frames, bringing the photos back to themselves, and put her hands on her hips, “I ‘ave had a bit more fun in me life, than that particular bit of it, that much I’ll say. Don’t much like to think about it, though really, you get so much of life, and only, what, two percent of it, maybe three or four at the outside, is all that bad, than what is there to fuss about? But,” She pointed to Ana, “Much as I ‘ate it, you need to know it. You ‘ave to learn to ‘ear Fareeha, love. You must, if there’s any ‘ope at all.” 

Tracer walked away from the mantle, and away from Mercy, and hustled toward the kitchen, small but well-appointed, and laid out in a certain unmistakeable logic that could only have come from Pharah’s own mind. She had put so much of herself, Ana thought, in this home, even as soft as all the furnishings were, and even with the Shabbat candlesticks and kiddush cup tucked into the corner of the kitchen. It was as if Mercy was the rose and Pharah the trellis, growing around the things that Pharah had made. 

Pharah was studying a cookbook carefully in the kitchen, her eyes narrowed as she read the same recipe over and over again, flipping back and forth. She had, on her kitchen island, a very large ham, and several ingredients in front of her, everything examined and re-examined as she quietly mouthed the words of the cookbook to herself. It was silly, to see it as another rejection of Ana herself, and yet she felt herself bristle at it. It was one thing, that Ana knew she kept no particular part of her Muslim heritage particularly close, but it was another to see something so plainly in front of her. 

Ana watched her with such rapt attention that she did not even notice Mercy come up behind the two of them. 

“Is that a ham?” 

“Yes.” She did not look up from the cookbook, but looked back to the ham, and then at her book, flipping through to another part, scowling at it all the while. “I understand how to make the bacon my father sends. I have learned how to make a fry-up. This seems like it should not be that difficult, but...it’s entirely new to me.” 

Mercy stood silently for a moment. It had never been stated, but she thought that somehow it had been agreed by them that though she understood Pharah was not religious in the slightest, and sometimes a bit aggressively areligious, depending on her mood, Mercy herself was, and the idea of using her cookware to make pork turned her stomach, just a touch. Was she being unreasonable? Pharah did all of the cooking and never asked anything of her, and--

Pharah’s head snapped up, as if she could read the thread running through Mercy’s mind. “This is disposable.” She touched her hand to the aluminium roaster the ham sat in. “For Christmas.” 

Ana turned to Tracer. “You came to show me what, that without my guidance, my daughter is going to forget herself entirely? Become some soft Londoner full of pig fat? I should expect a Christmas tree next? I know that, that is why--” 

“Ana,” Tracer looked over at her, “You ever just think of...shutting up, every now and again? Watch. Learn something. God’s sake.” 

Mercy thoughtfully touched at the edge of the counter. 

“Fareeha. I am Jewish, you are Muslim.” She looked at her wife. “We don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

“Oh!” Pharah laughed, the fierce concentration of her dissipating immediately as she looked to Mercy, “Yes! No, no, Angela this is not for us. I was--” She closed the cookbook. “Tracer loved Christmas, very much. I thought that Emily and Winston, that they probably wouldn’t--Emily loves the ham, especially--that it would be hard for them. I thought I would bring Christmas to them, in some small way. I can’t--” she looked back down at her glistening pink ham, “I can’t give them, what it is they want, of course. But a ham, I can give. After what happened,” her face grew dark, and serious, “after what was done to her…”

Mercy looked at her with great love, gave an adoring huff of a sigh, and smiled. “What a beautiful idea.” 

Pharah pulled herself from her red cloud, and nodded happily. 

Ana stared at the couple, both chatting now about the ham, side by side, neither of them having any particular clue what they were doing, but the room was filled with their love of their friends, and for each other, and their child, so much so that Ana could almost smell the dinner they planned to cook. They glowed completely in the light not of what they were given, but what they were giving, Mercy inelegantly pointing out side dishes, Pharah noting what might be in the well-stocked and organized fridge. 

“My father!” Pharah exploded in the thought, an excited light in her eyes Ana had not seen for many years. Had she missed all the times it had flashed? Had she only seen her daughter’s cool, collected gaze? Pharah looked at the aviator’s watch on her wrist, and then up at a small clock on the side of the cabinet. “He should be awake by now. He would know how to make this, though I think Rebecca prefers a turkey for Christmas.” 

Ana could say nothing, merely took a step toward them, mouth agape. 

“That’s right, Ana,” Tracer got up from leaning against the wall, “Despite your very best efforts, she grew up ‘uman. Despite your very best efforts to make ‘er something like you, she ‘as a bloody ‘eart after all, and friends, and a family, and she takes care of them, when they need it. Must ‘ave been Sam’s influence, I think.” 

Ana felt a flash of guilt, and pain, and then anger, and she whirled around to punch Tracer, who jumped to the side as Ana’s fist plunged through the wall but did not stop her pursuit. Tracer dodged again as she came, Ana frustrated by her age, and Tracer’s grin, humbled by the fact that it had never only been her ability to blink that made her a terrifying opponent, angrier yet still.  Until Tracer stopped in front of her, and let her hit. Ana put her full force behind it, wanting to take away everything this smug little Englishwoman was saying, because if she could simply hit Tracer, make her stop, it would not be true. 

She hit. 

The fist went right through her. 

“I’m a GHOST, ANA.” Tracer erupted into a fit of laughter so hard it took her a minute to recover, which was not nearly long enough for Ana’s taste, and put her hands on her hips, affecting an exaggerated accent, ‘You look fairly good for someone who has been dead six months, forgot that awful quick, didn’t you then!?” 

Ana let her fists fall to the side, though she did not unclench them. “Take me home.” 

“Cut a bit close, that did?” Tracer peered into her face. “You know why I put up with you” 

“Jack--” 

“No, though you do owe ‘im a bit of kindness, for ‘is work in the ‘ereafter for you. But that isn’t it, Ana.” She looked over to where Mercy tenderly touched her belly as Pharah talked on the phone, wishing her father a Merry Christmas, beginning to measure out something for a glaze. “Jack believed in you, and I owe him my field career, and that’s the truth. Reinhardt believed in you, and he was always kind to me. But none of that is why. I’m ‘ere because Angela Zeigler did everything she could for me, from the day she met me, even to the end, and so if I have to spend one day in your miserable company, I will do that for her. Because she is a woman what believes in mercy above all else, and still thinks you deserve it, no matter me own leanings. Think on that, Ana Amari. You’ve done nothing but spit in ‘er face, going on years, and she still ‘olds out ‘er ‘hand so you can do it all over again.” 

Ana crossed her arms, but did not take her eyes off the couple. “And you want me to admire this?” 

“No, don’t expect that much from you, but I do want you to be cognizant of it, at the least.” She nodded back to Pharah and Mercy. “Some people don’t count the cost.” 

Mercy smiled as she backed away from Pharah for a moment. “I am having a wonderful idea. Just wait.” 

Before Pharah could say anything, Mercy had her coat on and was running out of the house, and before Ana could even think to protest, Tracer had the two of them zipping after her. The door to the neighbors was right across from theirs, and Mercy knocked on it aggressively, and then looked at her watch, and then knocked again, perhaps deciding it was a perfectly acceptable hour. 

A man, in a warm Christmas sweater, his slippers still firmly on his feet, answered. 

“Angela? Is everything all right?” 

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she grasped his hand in both of hers, “But I am wondering, if you have any Christmas decorations you aren’t needing? You see, we have friends, and it has been a very lonely holiday for them, and Fareeha and I have nothing to give.” 

“So she’s going to bother this man and his family on Christmas Day.” Ana laughed, “The Christmas spirit. Togetherness. Poor planning. If family love can be made by cheap tinsel, than what is it anyway?” 

“Shut up, you, and watch.” 

The man startled for a minute, but then nodded his head, “Of course, of course, I know you had some unpleasantness this year, and, I’ll never forget that night you came over, when Camilla was sick.” 

Mercy shook her head, as if it had been nothing, and walked in the door, following him as he looked in closets and pulled out garlands and took some ornaments off his tree, and put them all in a box. He bent down to explain to the children what they were doing, and a little girl ran off to the fridge and brought back a fat santa made of paper plates, a little boy with a stuffed dormouse with antlers. 

They chatted happily to Mercy, and she thanked them profusely, dropped the box right inside her door, and continued onto another house, where there was a tangle of lights given and a bag of tinsel, and then the next, where Mercy was given a large plateful of cookies and other sweets from a little old woman, on and on until Mercy could hardly carry any of it, stacked up as it was. Some of them took it oof their own trees, out of their own kitchens, a spare stocking was taken off the mantle here and there. None of it matched, and all of it was secondhand at best, but it seemed to glisten and gleam with joy. 

As Mercy went to round a last corner, Tracer pulled the two of them into small street that would have been called an alleyway in any civilized city, and pulled out of her pocket a tiny tree. She set it on the ground, and blew on it, and it grew to a fine height, not too large, nothing like the giant affair Winston had set up every year in his home since he’d been in London for Christmas, but smelling freshly of pine. She regarded it, and then threw a strand of tinsel here or there on it, so it would look properly discarded. 

Mercy saw it out of the corner of her eye, backed up, and her eyes grew wide as she took it all in, something she never could have imagined. She clung the little box she had closer, running best as she could toward the house, calling Pharah’s name. 

Ana stood for a moment, the snow falling softly still around her. It was snowing quite a bit, for London, off and on, or maybe it was only Tracer’s wish that this represent Christmas as best it could that made it so. She went to open her mouth, once, twice, but could not bring herself to say what she meant to, what she wanted to. 

“She’s done nothing but help the people around her, be kind to them,” Tracer supplied, “So why wouldn’t they, the one time they get the chance, return it? Come on,” She took Ana by the elbow, “night’s coming on fast.” 

Tracer pulled the two of them down the alleyway, and they turned the corner into what might have been a wall but instead was just another street, in a different part of the city, the darkness having fallen in the moment it took them to slide between the bricks. 

Around them, the warehouse and odd converted apartment buildings rose, lights in this window or that, a tiny balcony with a number of rowdy revelers on it, drinking some hot rum thing that Ana could smell even from the street. Tracer bopped down the sidewalk with her, drawing this thing or that out of her pocket for a stray cat, smiling as she looked into the windows, and then they turned the corner, and her smile faded, just a bit. 

It was the same street she had seen with Reinhardt, and yet it lay so still as the last of the light faded from the city that it hardly seemed that it could have been that same place that had been so fresh and alive, every building like tombstones in a row. 

The house was quiet outside, and so grey. Where before, Ana could have ignored that it had once been a simple shipping warehouse, there was no mistaking it now, the cool metal of it tinny and burnished as the streetlights began to fly on. There were no bright sounds of cheer, or games being played. No lights trimmed the bannisters, no garlands played in the windows, and even the small dashing of snow seemed greyer than Ana had remembered when she had visited with Reinhardt. There was no doubt about the quietness settled over this house, and the darkness of it, just one lone lamp lit, the window before it dimming and greying even that. 

She should have expected it, and yet, somehow, it came as a surprise to her. 

“No point in the, ‘narrative structure’, if Tiny Tim is already dead. As I already told Reinhardt.” She looked over at Tracer. “Aren’t I supposed to turn over a new leaf, and prevent your death?”

Tracer shook her head. “No one could do that, love. If love could have saved me, I’d ‘ave lived forever, and it wouldn’t ‘ave been you that did. Just ‘ow life is sometimes. Sometimes, in life, you lose, love, and that’s the bitter truth of it.” 

“So what’s the point? Exactly.” 

Tracer bucked up her chin and smiled. ‘Come on then! And I will show you, what it is you’re meant to see.” 

They slid through the doorway, Tracer not even attempting any manner of gymnastic endeavor to do so. The smells of fresh baking and cinnamon and apples no longer permeated through the house, and Ana looked about for the giant tree with its bright lights and collection of ornaments, the tinsel hung in garlands around the windows and down the stairway, the music playing, and yet there was nothing, just one lone lamp where Emily sat, even the brightness of her red hair dull in the shadowed light. 

She was reading a book, curled up in the corner of the couch by herself, her hair hanging over the side where the light might have touched her face, and Ana noticed that her eyes ran over and over the same page, as if simply playacting at reading while the whole of her mind was somewhere else. 

The door opened, and a cool deep wind flushed in as Winston came in the door, removing his fogged glasses and wiping them on his sweater. 

“Emily.” He gave her a weak smile. 

“Oh,” she set down her book, page still unread, “I wondered when it was you’d be coming home.” 

She rose to her feet, slowly and quietly, and started toward Winston, who just as quietly took off his shoes and put on his slippers. There was none of the laughter or raucousness that Ana had felt in this room, before, and suddenly, not crowded with a group full of Oxtons, it felt so large. So empty. So silent. 

“I’m sorry, I--” 

“Oh no,” she tightened her sweater around her, “no, don’t be.” 

“I went to--” He hung up his coat, and stared at the wall a moment, “I went to take a wreath, to where she was--well--where she is.” He tried to smile. “One of the silver tinsel ones, with all the rainbow colors and bells? She always--” He took a breath.

“Oh aye, she loved those. Would like that, that you did that, I think.” 

“There are some lovely trees, there, I think in summer it’ll be---she loved green--” Emily touched his arm gently, “--it’s a nice place-- brushed off the stone a little bit. For the wreath.” 

Emily nodded. “Was good of you. I have, well, there’s a ready meal in the oven.” 

They stood there, simply looking at each other, until Winston nodded sadly and slowly worked his way over to the kitchen, opening the oven and taking out the meals inside on their little cookie sheet. Emily had bought several, for him, and he took a large bowl out of the cupboard and dumped them joylessly inside, mixing the mash and what passed for a steak braise all together. He poured himself a large glass of wine, and passed the bottle to Emily, and they sat across from each other at the small table, saying nothing as they quietly ate their food, or picked at it, rather, only a few errant bites here and there. 

“It’s the job.” Ana said, barely convincing herself, the Christmas of the past in this same house still dancing in her head. “We lose people. Good people.” 

“Didn’t bring you ‘ere because I thought you’d care about Em and Win.” Her arms were crossed, and she leaned against the wall, looking at the two of them, her eyes glistening. Then she shook off her sadness, the jingle bells in her hair ringing as she did it, and smiled again. “Ana, did you just call me a good person?” 

Ana  chuckled. “Don’t get a big head.” 

There was a knock at the door, and a robotic voice rang out over the house, echoing in the emptiness of it. 

“Angela is at the door.” 

Winston looked puzzled, but rose up to meet it, trying to pick his feet up a little and put on a brave face, giving an unconvincing smile as he opened the door. Mercy’s cheeks were rosy as she bore the ham in her arms, covered with foil but smelling like a dream, salty and sweet and rich, garlands wrapped around her as she struggled to carry them, her eyes bright with the joy that she was determined to bring with her. 

“Happy Christmas, Winston!” She came in the door without even being asked, “I was wondering, if maybe Fareeha and I could join you? For the cheer?” 

Pharah came up behind her, lugging in the tree and hardly swearing at the pine branches in her face, that same snowflake sweater on in that same bright blue, a red bow jokingly tied in her hair from the decorations they had brought. She looked to Winston, and then took a tattered but convincingly repaired wreath off her arm and stuck it to the door with an adhesive hook, and nodded. 

Winston moved to the side as Emily rose to meet them, Mercy embracing them both and hurrying to the kitchen as Pharah rushed back out to the taxi, bringing in boxes and quickly trimming up the home as neatly as she could with the materials she had been provided, doing an impressive job with the few boxes of scattershot decor. 

And as she worked, the room began to change, even so slightly. Emily began to put ornaments on the tree, and WInston asked Athena to play some Christmas music, and in a few moments the room was not as it had been on that night, but it began to take on the glow of a surviving candle, one that might light others, one that might let this place know warmth again. 

“Fareeha worked--” Ana sighed and walked to where she was decorating the mantle seriously, adjusted each bow, “She worked very hard.” 

“Right, she did. Fareeha is like that, as I’ve said. She took care of me, with not a word. Wouldn’t let me protest it, neither. She’s here for Win, and Em, in their time of need, because Fareeha is nothing if not a rock, right?” 

“She is very practical.” Ana continued to say these things, but they felt further disconnected form her, as if she was a ghost herself, simply saying the things that she had said before, over and over again, in a loop, ever so softly. “No,” she chuckled, just as softly, “Zeina. Not me. Sam. But not me.” 

Tracer faced her, arms crossed, but the look on her face was no longer angry, or cruel, but simply searching. 

“You talk and talk over ‘ow an Amari shouldn’t ‘ave to say nothing, and Fareeha never does, but with her actions. But you still never could speak ‘er language, could you? That all being true, what do you think she’s saying? And what did you say to ‘er, running off all the time, never telling ‘er when you’d be ‘ome, or if, wondering if you’d died until one day, it was true? Or, you let it be true. Even to ‘er.  No Ana, you say Fareeha should speak your language, but she always ‘as. You spoke perfectly bloody clear, to ‘er. 

“L--” 

The thought was interrupted by another knock at the door, a door that did not wait to be answered, but simply opened, and a flood of people came in, all bearing various small things; a Christmas pudding here, a roast there, some garland, gallons of drink. The Oxtons came in, chattering and laughing, and kissed Winston and Emily on the cheeks, and told Mercy how she was glowing, and Mark clapped Pharah’s shoulder and told her what a wonderful job she’d done, and sorry that they had taken a bit of time, but the family was a bit like herding cats, wasn’t it. 

Dva and Brigitte walked through the door to calls of ‘hallo’ and ‘happy Christmas’ and an older woman spotted at Brigitte’s hand as she went toward the kitchen with a large bag of rum and brandy and sweetness. 

“That a ring, Miss Lindholm? Thought we might miss it?” 

Brigitte laughed like a little girl, a blush rising to her cheeks, and flashed its brightness. “I never think you miss anything. She asked me today.” 

Dva shrugged, but in that way that indicated she was quite pleased with herself. “Lena’d give me a hard time for doing it on Christmas.” 

“Oh she would! She was wicked!” an aunt laughed, “But I think it’s beautiful. We would ‘ave invited you personally, but expected you back in the Nordics, we did.”

“We would have,” Dva nodded, “but we thought…”

“Of course, of course, love, say no more, it was right kind of you to think of it, and we’re delighted to ‘ave you! Oi!” She called back to the room, “Guess who’s getting married!” 

There were cheers and jokes and a dozen questions thrown at the happy couple, as cookies and plates of food were passed around. Pharah was complimented on the quality of her ham, Mercy was told how beautifully she glowed, a few children hung off of Winston and asked him to tell the story of how he beat Doomfist again, though he always looked a little sheepish when he told it. Emily was rapidly pulled into an animated conversation over the best of the Christmas puddings, and the tree was lit, twinkling brightly if a bit patchwork. 

Ana would have been lying to say that the room took on the same festivity of the year prior, as there was still the sense of something missing, like an empty spot on a curio shelf, where all the dust and all the space let you know something belonged there, but it was warmer than it had been, and it took on that same glow, even if slightly smaller than the years prior. There was laughter, even if there were a few tears wiped away, a few reassurances that the first year is always the hardest, and didn’t Lena do us all such a favor by bowing out so close to Christmas that the sadnesses seemed to roll together? But still the laughter, the warm, the closeness pervaded, and the rum punch was poured, and they banded together, the lights seeming to grow brighter as they did so. 

Parvati jumped up on the back of the couch, and went to hit the side of her glass before thinking better of it and simply whistling loudly, the room turning to her, and, after a bit, deciding to quiet down to a few muttersw, and listen what she had to say. 

“Happy Christmas, everyone. Know that we all ‘ave a bit on our minds, this year. Not the first time we’ve ‘ad it. Won’t be the last.”

It sounded so much like Ana’s practicality, and so little, and she felt something inside of her pull, some realized notion that to know the facts of the situation and to wield them cruelly were two different swords, than there had been so many people around her that had always known this, and it hd been Ana alone who refused to see. 

“Life’s made up of meetings, and partings, and that’s the way of it, innit?. We’ll carry Lena with us, always.” Parvati raised her glass, “To Lena. I’d say may she rest in peace, but, think we all know that’s the last thing she’d want.” 

Everyone took a drink of whatever they had in their hand, the moment not dark at all, but not because everyone in the room was looking away from the shadow. No, they all clearly knew that shadow, and had sat with it, but they brought their own candle into it, burnishing the pain of the loss with the memory of what had been.

Despite herself, she was taken by the notion. Despite herself, she smiled. 

Tracer leaned in close to her. “You miss the love of it, Ana, and that’s your tragedy. You don’t see how love can make something beautiful. You see the reality of it, but you don’t see how love can make a hard reality somehow bearable.”  

In the back of her mind, London stood, bombed out once again and rebuilding, the patchwork of it stronger and better than what had came before. Hadn’t Egypt done the same? And wasn’t she a daughter of Egypt? How horrible, to know that Tracer was right. 

A man began to sing, not a Christmas carol at all, for Ana was beginning to allow the holiday to melt away and see the truth behind it, the core that came together in a million different worlds, some of which had never seen a Christmas at all, and as his voice raised above the din, they began to join him. 

“...pretty bubbles in the air, they fly so high, nearly reach the sky….” 

 Sniffles and tears mixed in, wiped away with a joyful punctuation. 

“...Then like my dreams, they fade and die!” 

Arms were drawn close around each other, the entire room a tight knot of human light against the darkness, as their voices rose even higher.

“FOOOOOOORTune’s always hiding! I’ve looked everywhere, I’m forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air.” 

There was a collapse of laughter, admissions that Lena would have considered it the fittest hymn and carol and battle song of all, and another round of spiced drinks passed around in pitchers. 

“No matter what, nothing sinks them.” There was admiration in her voice, now. 

Tracer’s voice lowered. “Soft Londoners, full of pork fat.” 

She whipped around to look at Tracer. “Don’t MOCK me.” 

“You mock yourself, “ Tracer snorted, “acting as if it’s some manner of courage to push away every kind thing what comes your way the whole of your life.” 

“I--” Ana stopped herself. 

If she valued honesty, what was the lie in what Tracer was telling her? The whole of her life, she had believed that sentiment came to nothing, and it was only encouraging weakness to pad things for herself, for others. How could she ever have thought it would be so simple? She looked at Pharah, sitting alone at the edge of the room, smiling as she drank at her mug, but still somehow disconnected from it all, rubbing at the edge of her watch with a distant look in her eye. 

“Fareeha,” Ana watched her, “Tracer, tell me she will be happy. Tell me I haven’t ruined her the way I ruined myself.” 

“I live only in the moment, Ana. Future’s not me domain,” She gazed over at Pharah and considered a moment. “But I see something...Fareeha, if you look carefully, you can see a red light about her. You can see a shadow on her face. I see an anger, a rage, deep within her, and if these shadows do not change, I fear for what I see in her. I’m only the ghost of the present, and can’t tell you rightly, of course. But you must remember her getting arrested in Dublin, after I died.” Tracer shook her head. “You turned cold, but Fareeha? Puts lines around everything because she knows what’ll ‘appen if she doesn’t. Fire in her may burn down every good thing in her.” 

Ana could not draw her eyes away from Pharah, could not stop seeing the reflection of red light about her, kept telling herself over and over again that it was just from the tree so near, that there was nothing mysterious about it at all, and that every way she had taught Pharah to make an island of herself had not ruined everything. 

The party continued, Pharah eventually being drawn from her chair and brought into the games, Ana convincing herself that her eye was old, and failing her. The warmth of the party continued, drawn close and near with laughter and joy, kisses on the cheek and close hugs, questions about Dva and Brigitte’s plans, stories about Tracer, all coming together into a mulled wine all its own. 

“Right, then.” Tracer said softly. 

Ana looked back to her, a spirit with sharp words and sharper powers, but very much again a woman Ana had simply known, looking at her family with a sorrowful gaze, wishing she could touch them, sing with them, love them. Tracer was like Ana, in that way, she supposed. 

No. Because her family would delight to hold and kiss her again, to hear her voice ring over the room, to see her smile. Ana’s family would not. Pharah barely looked at her. Mercy hated her, after her actions this morning. Her grandchild would not know her. She felt that same pang of jealousy and hunger that she had in the tiny Brixton apartment, deeper now, and more keen. 

Worst of all was the realization that she had chosen this for herself, over and over again, in every word and action. That she had built the walls so high and so well that no one could hope to scale them, that she had laid the broken glass of her own personal miseries across the top and never for one moment realized that her daughter had the strength to not attempt to climb it any longer. That she would urge others never to try, and show them the scars on her palm from her own failures. 

“Can’t stay much longer.” 

Ana noticed the party beginning to get quieter, the lights in Tracer’s eyes beginning to fade, and a sudden panic began to grip her, the sense that she might lose everything she felt she had only begun to grasp, that she was on the verge of something great, slipping through her fingers. 

“You can’t already go. There’s so much more to teach me.”  

Tracer shook her head, somehow growing thinner, and smaller. “I was never meant to be long in this world, Ana. It was always meant to be brief.” 

“I have,” Ana began, and then cleared her throat, and looked to Tracer, “I, I was wrong, not to come to your Christmas party. To your birthday.” 

Tracer leaned against the wall, and the party faded from view, the golds and reds and greens fading into the greys and blue of the city, Tracer now leaning against the wall of an underground station, cap on her head, leather jacket pulled in close. 

“If I could do it over again, I would not have missed your last year.” She paused, “If I could do it over again, I would not have been myself.” 

“Why didn’t you, Ana?” 

There was no anger in it, not this time, just a hanging sadness as she shook her head and leaned against the wall, some annoucement Ana could not quite make out coming over the station. A chill ran through her, in that moment, only the two of them standing there, the hazy glow of fluorescent lights overhead dimming the world in a way Ana could not quite understand, but knew intrinsically. 

“We wasn’t friends, not really, but…I was dying.” 

Ana opened her mouth to protest that this was in the past, that it was not Tracer’s realm. That there was nothing to explain, because it was past now, and so what did it matter, she could not go back and have attended either. She opened her mouth to say that no one would have wanted her there anyway. She opened her mouth to say that she was jealous Tracer had so much of love. She opened her mouth to say, that she had been too proud to admit she was lonely. 

There was a rumble, down the tracks, the train speeding its way toward the station. She could feel the rush of air coming from the tunnel, the lights in darkness, coming. 

“Was dying, Fareeha was trying to bear up under it for everyone, and you couldn’t even--not for neither one of us--not for anyone.” 

The train began to screech into the station, and Ana had the horrifying realization, all in one moment, that it was here for Tracer, and surely enough, as she glanced up to the clock, that horrible long shadow of a hand was drawing toward midnight. 

“I should have gone,” she barked out as quickly as she could, but that terrible, terrible screeching echoed all through the station, shrieking high and loud as she tried to take Tracer’s hand, only to find that it was fading away, “I never hated you, I only, you were allowed to be light-hearted, and I wasn’t, and I was so--” 

Tracer shook her head, her eyes dull with exhaustion, “Can’t ‘ear you, love. ‘Ave to go now.” 

“I can do it different!” She reached out again, “I can learn to be different! I should have been, and I wasn’t, but, Tracer--” 

The doors to the train opened, and Tracer looked at them with a smile, even as her hand shook. “That’ll be me train. I trust you to the spirit what’s coming round next. You must see that spirit, love, no way round it.” 

“What was the point of Jack sending you if I can’t undo any of this!?” She stood in front of Tracer. “I have learned, now, and so you need to send me back, and I’ll do it better,” Tracer’s body passed through her, and she stepped into the car and grabbed onto a pole, glancing back, “LENA!!!”

The doors slammed shut, and Ana pulled and pulled, but she could not stop the horrible droning of the announcement declaring that they were pulling away from the station, and however she screamed and pounded, Tracer could not hear her, but simply looked up at the advertisements on the side of the car, lost in her own world. The train pulled away as quickly as it had come, speeding into the darkness, the only sound in Ana’s ears her own throbbing heartbeat. 

The photo of she and Pharah was cool in her hand.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Meet Drusilla Blackthorn (fan fic)

This is Chap 3 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story. 

I am introducing Dru & Jaime in this Chapter. 

And of course, Kit & Ty are being as gooey as ever.

AO3 Link here.

*****

“Look at you trying to flee from the crime scene.”

Jaime startled and his hand froze on the doorknob. He whirled to face Dru, who was watching him with a glitter of amusement in her Blackthorn blue-green eyes. She was lying on her side, arm angled upwards, head on hand. Her large black shirt hugged her soft curves and barely covered her thighs, revealing a criminally vast expanse of her smooth milky skin. A message was printed at the level of her chest. Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234. Apparently, it had been a gift from Jace. Her long dark brown hair was pulled in a braid, crossing over one of her shoulders. He knew from staring at her beautiful face while she was sleeping or otherwise unaware, that tiny freckles sprinkled her rosy cheeks, that her long dark eyelashes - not unlike her brothers’ - followed a perfect curve as if she was constantly wearing mascara and that the luscious red of her full lips deepened when she bit them. As she was doing right now. He gulped and hoped with everything he had that she couldn’t hear the loud thump thump of his frantic heart.

“I am not-”

“Relaaax. You look like you just hid a corpse in the cupboard and are trying to make a run for it.”

How could she not understand? When he had met her three years ago, he had thought she was cute, sweet, funny, dependable and - admittedly - already a badass. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had occurred but, over time, sincere friendship had turned into deep affection and deep affection had somehow turned into lust and… love? In any case, there definitely was lust. He fought the urge to cross himself reflexively.

She had never looked her age, and that hadn’t changed with the years. She had entirely grown out of her baby fat, her features sharpening and her limbs lengthening, but she still had a voluptuous figure. She looked like a sexy grown woman, and certainly not like a sixteen-year-old girl. But she was, he reminded himself.

Even if the mundane statutory rape laws dit not apply to Shadowhunters, he still felt like he was breaking some kind of unspoken rule, thirsting after a sixteen-year-old. It didn’t help that the package came with an army of very scary brothers. The villains from Dru’s favorite horror movies had nothing on them. The thought of Julian Blackthorn alone discovering the truth was enough to keep him up at night.

“You know what it will look like if I bump into one of your brothers. If they find out I have spent the whole night here…”

“So? Nothing actually happened. And you did nothing wrong except fall asleep in front of “Old Boy”...”

“Dru- I am serious…”

“So am I! This movie is awesome! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dru…”

Dru sighed and moved to a sitting position against the headboard, knees up, arms encircling her legs. Jaime tried not to stare as her shirt lifted higher over her thighs.

“Jaime. You know what your problem is? You still haven’t gotten into your head that it’s not my brothers you should be afraid of. The Blackthorn women are much scarier.”

“I can believe that…” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“Anyway, don’t worry about them, they’re probably going to sleep in since they’ve been very busy last night. Mark with Cristina, Julian with Emma, and Ty with… Kit.”

Jaime’s eyes widened.

“You think Ty and Kit…?”

Dru lifted both her dark eyebrows at him. “Are you seriously asking me to confirm or elaborate on my brother’s sex life?”

“No, no, of course not…” Jaime felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Why did everyone get to have sex but him? Maybe because you've been pining for a sixteen-year-old for months now, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. He wanted to punch himself.

“Just kidding, Jaime. Look at you blushing… Wait- I hope you don’t have a problem with my brother being with… a guy?”

She suddenly leaned forward, her gaze piercing.

Jaime knew how fiercely protective of her siblings Dru was. She had quite a reputation at the Shadowhunter Academy, as someone not to be messed with or rubbed the wrong way. She had somehow found a way to acquire knowledge on people and discover their most dirty secrets. She had no qualms using the intelligence when it came to protecting her family or the Blackthorns’ reputation. Although she did not hesitate to break a few arms and ribs to prove her point, most of the time, she operated in a more subtle way. With finesse, one could say.

A Shadowhunter student who had had the ill-conceived idea of calling Mark Blackthorn “the Unseelie King’s sex toy” was living proof of that. Jaime had not heard the full details of the story but it apparently involved a wide collection of dildos, very enthusiastic piskies, and had earned the boy several nicknames that he would probably never part from.

Judging by the look on Dru’s face now, Jaime’s life was hanging by the thread of his answer. She didn’t need to worry.

“No! Hey! What the hell? Of course not! You know me, right?”

She relaxed, leaning casually against the headboard, her arms crossed behind her head.

“Not as much as I would like to...” she replied, with a wink. “But yeah, I guess so.” A wicked grin split across her face.

Forgive me, Father, for I am this close to becoming a sinner, Jaime thought as he hurriedly escaped from the room.

****

Kit grabbed Ty by the arm just as he was slipping out of bed.

“Not so fast, Centurion.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Are you trying to sneak out? You got what you came for and now you’re tossing me like an unpaired sock? I am wounded.”

Ty just stared at him.

Hmmm. Maybe too early for humour.

“I don’t think I’ve had my fill yet, that’s all…” Kit clarified, as he stretched like a cat. Or a lion. Definitely like a lion.

Both Ty’s V shaped eyebrows rose.

“I thought… You said you needed your rest.”

“Ty, I was not talking about that, however tempting. There are other things in life than sex.”

“Is that a fact?” Ty asked playfully, a corner of his mouth lifting. Okay. Virgin Mary turned into the God of Sex overnight. How the hell did that happen?

“I want a cuddle.” Kit pouted as he snuggled up against Ty and encircled him with his arms.

Ty surrendered to his embrace, falling back on the bed. Kit rolled on top of him and pinned his arms above his head. He started alternating between brushing and pressing his lips over Ty’s face, tracing his beautiful features from memory, with his eyes closed.

“I… have… some… errands...to… run… Mysteries… to… uncover,” Ty gasped between feathery kisses.

“I am a mystery.” Kit nibbled Ty’s earlobe, before whispering in his ear. “Uncover me.”

“You are naked,” Ty rightfully observed, though his voice was quavering and his breaths short.

“I am. But have you explored every avenue?”

“Fair point, Watson,” Ty said in a husky voice, before swallowing hard.

“That’s what I am here for, Sherlock,” Kit replied. He kissed Ty’s eyelids, his nose, and started exploring Ty’s mouth with his tongue.

They rubbed against each other, their limbs entangled, as the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until both had to draw back to catch their breath.

“I love you,” Kit blurted.

“I love you too,” Ty replied softly, staring at Kit with his gray eyes half closed. He looked dizzy.

“I love you more,” Kit retaliated.

“How could you ever verify that?” Ty asked, his eyes widening with a look of genuine surprise.

“Easy. I just know that no one in the history of the universe could have ever loved anyone the way I love you.”

Ty looked - if possible - even more puzzled.

“I know it because my soul belongs with yours, Ty. If there are other worlds out there where I exist and you don’t, I don’t ever want to meet myself there. For what kind of empty shell - or monster - would I be if I hadn’t met you?”

They both startled as they heard a knock on the door.

“I am not decent!” Kit answered, as he reached hurriedly for a blanket to cover Ty’s body.

“This has never bothered you before,” Jace ‘s voice replied through the door. “Does this mean you are not the only one who’s not presentable in there? I just came across Mark running around naked in the corridors and I am pretty sure I have seen enough Blackthorns’ buttocks for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kit answered, his voice muffled under the blanket covering both his and Ty’s bodies completely, like two kids curled up under a makeshift tent. Ty was shaking with silent laughter.

“Sure you don’t,” Jace answered, but Kit could hear his footsteps receding.