#like the emotion and intention with the performance was so spot on

[seokjinsonlyone]

omg this one of the best kpop covers i’ve ever seen i had to watch twice 😭

[paulyenvol6]

Getting it over with

Daemon x Stark!Reader (OS)

It is your wedding night and all you can think of is doing your job as quickly as possible. Your husband has different plans though and tries everything to show you that sex can be more than a marital duty.

Contains: dub con, detailed smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, gagging, biting, dom & mean Daemon, first time, slight humiliation, dirty talk, crying, angst, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader

Wordcount: ~3.58k

Masterlist

You faced the ceiling as you laid in this strange bed with the strange sheets underneath you.

The smell was different as well, as there was no trace of the familiar vanilla scent of your own bed. But perhaps you wouldn't have to get used to it. You had to provide your husband an heir, that was your duty but afterwards mayhaps you could live your lives separately.

You didn't desire to get to know him nor spend any more second than necessary in his presence. You just wanted to get this over with, preferrably have him plant his heir inside you tonight and then remain in your own chambers at night. With your familiar vanilla scent.

So now there you laid, stiff as a stick and only wearing your night gown. It had been the first thing you had done when you had entered your husband's room, you had taken off your gown, changed into the thin exposing night dress and laid down on his bed. You approached this whole matter pragmatically and tried not to listen to your emotions or fears. It was your marital duty to perform the act of bedding and though you were so scared of it that tears threatened to spill from your eyes any second, you would do it. You would have him do it as quickly as possible and then your job would be done. For tonight at least.

And then the door opened and seconds later the Rogue Prince stood in front of his bed and observed you with a smug look on his face. His eyes traveled down your body, unshamingly regarding every spot of skin that his eyes could reach.

"Wife.", he spoke and you adjusted yourself on the bed expecting him to climb on top of you any second. But Daemon just slowly sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest when you pulled at your gown in order to prevent it from wrinkling.

"Do it.", you said and stared at him fiercely.

"Do what?", he hissed with small eyes.

"Claim me. Let's just get it over with quickly." To your surprise your husband chuckled. "Oh sweet girl."

You frowned and lifted yourself on your elbows. "Please. I just want to be done with it." Daemon came a step closer to you and towered over your lying figure. "Touch yourself.", he whispered and your frown deepened.

"What?"

"Run your finger through your slit. Do it." You were confused but obeyed him, feeling curious about what his intentions were so you slipped your hand under your night gown and ran a finger through your folds.

"So?", he asked and you confusingly looked up to him. "Did you find any wetness?" You shook your head and hated that you were so intimidated by his presence.

"There you go. If I just fucked you like this now and here, I'd tear you apart, little one."

You widened your eyes but swiftly collected yourself again. "I don't care, just do it. Please, I can take it."

Daemon scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You may think so but no. I think I've deflowered a few more maidens than you have and I consider myself a little more learned than you."

You frowned feeling discontent because this night wasn't going as you had planned at all. You were sulking and watched Daemon as he took off his shirt and revealed his strong chest. Then he approached you again.

"You're my wife now. And even though you are a stubborn little brat I don't want my sheets to be soaked with your blood."

But you were still pouty and had already made up your mind. When Daemon reached out to caress the side of your face you hissed out and pushed his hand away which made him lift his eyebrows. He tried again and this time attempted to soothingly stroke your thigh but you denied him and pulled away.

He paused for a second and then roughly took hold of your wrists with his left hand while his right reached out and grabbed your hair. He pinned your hands down over your head and crawled to lay on top of you. You squirmed trying to fight him off but you didn't stand a chance.

"Listen to me.", he growled and his mouth came close to your ear. "I'm doing this for you, you stupid brat. I could just fuck you now, play my part and you probably wouldn't stop crying from the pain. You have no idea what you're asking of me so trust me and let me take care of it."

But how were you supposed to trust Daemon? You didn't know him and you had barely talked to him before your wedding. So you remained unwilling and tried to free your chin from his grip but Daemon was stronger and didn't let go of you.

"N-No.", you whined and shifted underneath him but his body held you in place. He pressed your wrists in the sheets over your head and his hand that was now on your jaw didn't allow you to move your head around.

"Why won't you let me help you?", Daemon hissed.

"I don't want you to help me.", you sulked and didn't stop fighting him off. His right hand that had been on your chin finally let go and he instead yanked your hair back so your neck was exposed to him. He came close to your skin with his mouth.

"If you won't stop resisting me I'll do what you're asking me to do and believe me, little one, you don't want this. You're a virgin and you fucking need to be prepared for my cock. So will you just stay still while I try to make this a pleasant experience for you?"

Tears welled up in your eyes but you started to feel like you were on the edge of giving up. You were tired and at a point where you didn't really care anymore what would happen. So you didn't answer him and stopped squirming which Daemon took as a sign to start kissing you skin. At first you tried your best to ignore him and stubbornly stared at the ceiling while his mouth devoured your neck. You didn't want to, you didn't want to get involved in this and allow yourself to feel any kind of pleasure. You had sworn yourself to do the minimum of what you were supposed to and then ignore your husband to live your life the way it had been before. You would endure whatever it was he was doing and under no circumstances show him that you liked any of this or that you enjoyed his touch.

So you didn't let out a sound while his hand that had held your wrists slowly reduced its force and soon his hand just laid on top of yours. Quickly you pushed his hand away but instead he now ran it over the side of your body. You showed your displeasure when Daemon's mouth traveled up to kiss your lips and you bit him in his lower lip. You tasted blood and to your delight felt him twitch. Then you felt his left hand grab your chin once again and he forced you to look at him.

"You're a little beast. But I think you yearn to be tamed." With wet eyes you tried to shake your head under his grip and tensed when Daemon's right hand ran from your belly up to your chest.

"Just relax and enjoy it, seven hells.", Daeon growled when he felt your twitching. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I want the opposite."

"But I don't want what you're doing. I told you, I wanted this to be happening quickly.", you snapped and determinedly stared up to him.

He rolled his eyes. "But it's what's best for you."

So his hand remained on your chest and he started to run his finger over the swell of your breasts. When his finger circled your nipple through the thin fabric of your gown you felt goosebumps on your arms which satisfied Daemon. At last you felt something when he touched you. But your mouth remained tense and your arms laid close to your body, refusing to touch him. You kept staring at the ceiling as he leaned down to kiss your neck while his hands worked on your chest. It didn't feel unpleasant but you wouldn't allow yourself to enjoy it. So you told yourself that you hated it, Daemon was the enemy and you wanted this to end as quickly as possible.

After a while your husband thought it was time to expose you to him so he grabbed the straps of your gown and pulled the dress down. A cool breeze hit your nipples and you shivered. You watched his lustful gaze on your chest and suddenly you felt very exposed and vulnerable. With a look on your face Daemon sensed it and softly caressed your cheek.

"It's fine. Let go, love." But determinedly you shook your head and he sighed. He lowered his head and his tongue started to toy with your hardened nipples which made you breathe heavily. You were sensitive there and your body responded to him though you didn't like it. You still laid stiff and didn't even want to look down but then Daemon kissed his way further south until he had reached your lower belly.

"Lift your hips.", he whispered in an attempt to finally get rid of your night gown that still covered what laid between your legs but you shook your head.

"Can't you do it with my gown on?" Your husband exhaled loudly and wiped away the traces of your tears on your skin.

"It'd be hard." You just looked at him with a mixture of sadness and fear and stubbornness. And you didn't. You refused to obey him until Daemon simply ripped your dress apart and you flinched.

"It was expensive.", you snapped and he smirked. "I'll buy you a new one."

You were bare underneath him now and pressed your legs together.

"Will you do it now finally?", you asked with flashing eyes and he looked pitiful.

"I don't get why you're so eager to refuse my help.", he spoke while toying with strands of your hair. "I'll make you come now, little one. So you're all wet and nice for my cock and it will be less painful for you."

With fear in your eyes you looked up to him. "What will you do?"

"Shhh.", he made and soothingly ran his hands over your hips. "Just close your eyes and relax."

Though you were confused you obeyed him at last and rested your head on the pillow while you felt him crawl between your legs. You felt odd spreading your legs for him but when he pushed them apart you followed his gesture and he could take a look at your cunt. You weren't exactly wet yet though he could see a little glistening by your entrance. You looked at him anxiously and saw him dive between your thighs. You felt him lick from your hole up to a spot you hadn't know to exist to this moment. You widened your eyes in shock and had to surpress a moan that threatened to leave your mouth. Daemon had his eyes on you though and saw in your reaction that you weren't unaffected by his touch.

You tried to collect yourself and for a moment it worked but soon you couldn't help but get lost in the pleasure you were receiving. You really had tried everything, wanted to resist, you were too stubborn to admit that he might have been right with what he had been saying all along but after a few minutes you left out a quiet whimper which made him smirk.

"I knew I'd be able to tame you, little one.", he whispered and you wanted to push him away and press him closer to you at the same time. So you chose to pull at his hair which he commented with a grunt. His tongue devoured your cunt, his tongue drew patterns and circles around this mysterious nub while spreading your wetness all over your folds.

And everything became worse the longer your husband continued. You restlessly shifted on the bed, threw your head to the sides and clenched your fists, still too proud to give in and touch his shoulders or arms. Your mouth formed an 'O' and you hated that he watched for your reactions. You had also started to move your hips along with his movement but you were restriced because his hands held your hips down.

"Please.", you whispered and it almost sounded inaudible but still, he had heard it.

"What was that?", he asked with a wide smirk on his face. You were pouty, refused to look in his eyes but Daemon had heard it and wanted to tease you a little so he stopped licking your cunt and your eyes immediately fell on him.

"W-What are you doing.", you asked panicky and he caressed your thigh.

"Say it again.", he breathed and you squirmed shaking your head. "Oh yes you will. Because I'll stop if you don't."

"I don't care.", you hissed but he could see the movement of your legs and your shivering. You were lustful and needy and it would be a matter of time until you said and did whatever Daemon wanted.

"Go on.", he demanded again.

You moved against him but your husband refused to give you any sort of friction which made you moan in dissatisfaction. You were defeated and closed your eyes because you knew as much as you wanted to remain strong you couldn't. You needed to feel him again so you opened your mouth.

"P-Please.", you whispered and a content smile appeared on his face.

"There we go. I knew you could be a good girl." Daemon kept his promise and lowered his head again to lick over your little pearl and after a few seconds you had forgotten everything about his teasing because his tongue drove you to heaven. He circled your nub, gently took it between his teeth and flicked it.

"Ughh.", you whined and felt like you were about to burst. Then, after a few more minutes of his dance on your pearl his hand wandered to your hole and without a warning he shoved two fingers inside you. You shrieked feeling a pain in your core and your eyes sprang open. Your walls were pulsating and the stretch brought tears in your eyes.

"Oww.", you made and he looked up to your sternly. "You see? This was only my fingers and you are soaking wet. What do you think it would've felt like if I had shoven my cock inside your dry hole?"

You didn't answer and turned your face away but Daemon wanted something else.

"No. I want you to tell me that you were wrong." Your eyes fluttered and you raised your chin but at this point you were beyond turned on and needy for him and so you obeyed him.

"I was wrong.", you whispered but still didn't look at him. "You were right."

He grinned and ran his thumb over your lower lip. "Good girl. I knew you just needed someone to tell you what to do. My good little obedient wolf."

Daemon moved his fingers slowly out of you again and then back in until they hit deep inside you. You whimpered and felt your legs shaking while his tongue was occupied with circling your nub again.

"Please. Please, Daemon.", you whispered having problems forming a whole sentence. He was so smug about it and contently kept his mouth connected to your cunt until he moved the fingers that had previously been buried inside you to your mouth. When you understood what he wanted you determinedly shook your head but Daemon ran his fingers over you lips.

"Open, little one." But you were stubborn and refused him.

"I said open.", he repeated but you wouldn't give in so you just pressed your lips together.

All of a sudden Daemon's left hand reached to your chin and grabbed it forcefully. You were so surprised that he was able to open your mouth and he shoved his fingers inside of your mouth. Discontently you bit him and in response he simply thrusted them deeper inside of your throat until you gagged.

"Next time it'll be my cock you gag on.", he threatingly hissed and you gulped loudly trying to breathe through your nose so you wouldn't gag.

It felt uncomfortable and you wished he would remove his fingers but Daemon wanted to feel your throat a little longer so he moved them in and out of you. You choked, coughed and then after a few more moments he pulled his fingers out again and caressed your lip.

"Pretty.", he merely spoke and then his mouth finally went back to stimulating your pearl again. It was now only a matter of minutes and then you were finally sent over the edge. The tension in your thighs and lower belly expanded and spread all over your body and you felt like you were exploding but in the best way possible. You moaned loudly and cried his name out until you collapsed on your back and panted uncontrolled. Your closed your eyes in exhausion and felt your husband's mouth pull away from your cunt. For a second nothing happened but then your calm was interrupted because you felt him crawl on top of you. Your eyes fluttered and you saw his face through half-closed eyes.

"You've been a very good girl.", he whispered and kissed your forehead. "Ready for my cock?"

You could only nod and felt him reaching down between your bodies. There was definitely some fear inside you now and you felt your senses coming back when you felt his tip on your entrance.

"Daemon.", you whispered panicky and grabbed his arm.

"What?", your husband asked and looked at you.

"P-Please. Be gentle."

He smirked and took hold of your cheek. "I will be, my sweet wolf."

With these words you felt him circle your hole and then he pushed into you. Tears gathered in the corner of your eye but you didn't allow them to spill. You hissed at the pain in your lower belly and looked at Daemon with widened eyes. Your breathing was quick and chaotic and he caressed the side of your head to calm you.

"Shhh. You can take it, my brave girl. Just breathe." His words helped you a lot and after a while Daemon started to move. At first it felt uncomfortable again but soon he had a slow and deep pace which made you gasp for air now and then but you felt a lot more comfortable.

"Good girl.", he panted against you ear. "Who would've thought you just needed a cock inside of you in order to be an obedient and willing little thing."

You whined, too overwhelmed with everything to answer him so Daemon took it as a reply and his hand grabbed your hair to yank it back and have better access to your neck. His cock steadily thrusted in and out of you and soon your cunt felt a little sore but you didn't care. You were just focused on his cock and Daemon's face and his hands on you and everything else became unimportant.

Soon his hand reached between your bodies and he started to circle your pearl again which made you melt under his body. Your little nub was overstimulated and swollen so at first you squirmed underneath him but Daemon's finger didn't leave it and soon his touch made your legs shake.

Meanwhile he kissed your neck and made sure to leave marks. Now and then you heard him moan in pleasure which only contributed to your lust. But when both of you started to approach your high Daemon lifted his head to watch your face when you came. He felt you clench around you and sensed that you were close so his finger moved faster around your pearl until you broke down and whimpered out. You closed your eyes, your face tensed and you breathed heavily while Daemon came as well and shot his seed deep inside you.

He had collapsed on top of you and his weight pressed you into the bed which felt very comfortable for some reason. You were both gasping for air and after your second high of the night you just felt exhausted at this point so you couldn't help but close your eyes.

But when Daemon had regained his strength he rolled off you and you were left feeling vulnerable and exposed but too tired to do anything about it. So you moaned in displeasure which your husband commented with a scoff. He knew what you were asking though and eventually grabbed the blanket of his bed to cover your naked body with it. You smiled while watching Daemon get comfortable as well.

"Well, I hope this night has turned out more pleasant than you expected.", he said and you scratched your head. "I guess. Yes."

He turned to you and watched you with raised eyebrows. "

Thank you.", you mumbled with blood rushing up in your cheeks. "You were right, it was more comfortable doing it like this."

Your husband smirked smugly and you lowered your gaze. "You're very welcome, dear lady wife. But you should get some sleep now." You nodded, pulled your blanket to your chin and then closed your eyes. "Sleep well."

[ashonheavenscloud]

mission accomplished || c. vernon

warnings: none! || wc: 1.1k

a/n: from another round of frantic fanfic with mi amor @lixiesfreckless !! enjoy <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Vernon, what are you-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I just-"

You step aside, bewildered but not in any way bothered by your best friend's impromptu appearance at your apartment door, despite it being nearly midnight. You're already in button up pajamas and fresh from a shower, a mug of tea forgotten on the coffee table. You were going to binge a show, but all plans for the evening have been wiped from your mind at the sight of the man running an anxious hand through his brown curls as he steps into the room. You notice immediately the guitar strapped to his back. He paces once, twice next to you, before blowing out a breath.

"What if I mess up-"

"Vernon, you've been practicing the song for weeks, you’re not going to mess it up just because you’re finally playing it in front of its intended audience—-“

“What if she doesn’t like it?” He blurts and turns to look at you, and your jaw nearly drops at the suggestion.

“Vernon…if she doesn’t like it then her and I are going to have some serious beef,” you chuckle, but seeing as how your joke does little to calm his nerves, you place a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Listen to me. You’re a talented artist with a good heart. The song is amazing, and heartfelt and…sweet,” you feel a slight pang of something in your chest, but ignore it and continue, “if she can’t see that through this, then she doesn’t deserve—-“

“Can I practice it with you, one last time?”

You hesitate, although you're not entirely sure why. You've heard it several times before, even if not in its entirety. Vernon had been working on it for ages, strumming chords and humming melodies and writing potential lyrics in his little music journal while you studied or binged your shows. He'd played you pieces, snippets, and they'd been beautiful. To hear it now, performed all the way through, in preparation of Vernon's confession, has your voice caught in your throat, a sour taste in your mouth that you can't explain.

But he's your best friend, and his pleading eyes break through any consideration of refusal before you can even truly contemplate turning away. You could never do that to him. "Of course you can."

You lead him to the couch and sit on one side, letting him set up the instrument and check that it is carefully tuned. His hands, you notice, are shaking. God, he must really be nervous to play this for this girl. Your heart aches for some reason seeing him shift in his spot.

"Okay," he eventually murmurs, seemingly half to himself. You're not sure how else to help him relax, so you just tap his foot with yours to get his attention. Once his eyes glance up to meet yours, you smile slightly.

“Pretend I’m her,” you say, and the words taste bittersweet as they roll off your tongue.

After one more shaky breath, he begins to strum.

You’re glad he decided against playing with a pick for this song, because the gentle plucking of the strings is way better suited for the lyrics, at least to you. You allow yourself to fall into the simple melody as the notes envelop you, until you begin to imagine another reality; one where this song was meant for you.

Vernon's voice is quiet, but as the song continues, he appears to gain more confidence. Still maintaining a delicate softness to his tone, the lyrics roll from his tongue with an assuredness. You close your eyes, simply listening as the beautiful song fills the otherwise silent space.

By the time Vernon's voice fades and the last notes disappear from the air between you two, your lungs feel constricted, your heart torn between wishing you could have listened to him for an hour, and wishing you could bolt from the room, escape to somewhere that would allow you space to gather your emotions into carefully sorted compartments instead of the tornado that fills your chest.

Your eyes flicker open to find Vernon watching you intently, nibbling anxiously on his bottom lip, thumb hooked under the neck of his guitar and tapping the wood. You see him swallow, before quietly asking, "So... what'd you think?”

“I think it’s perfect, Vernon,” you answer honestly, subconsciously laying a hand atop his. “It’s beautiful, and heartfelt, and…” you pause before finishing your thought with a gulp, “it’s hard not to fall in love after hearing that.”

It would be hard is what you meant to say, and judging from the flicker of confusion on his face, it’s what he expected to hear too—- but he seems to brush the slip up off entirely, running a hand through his curls before speaking.

“Thank you for…well putting up with all of my nerves about this whole thing,” he sighs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and moving the guitar off the couch to rest beside it. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"I get it. This is... vulnerable." You swallow thickly. Now that the song has finished, and the moment has broken, a bitter taste fills your mouth. You've been forcefully pulled back to reality, reminded that this isn't actually yours. "I don't know if I could be as brave as you, to sing this for someone you care about so much. There's really no way she won't love it."

Vernon doesn't answer right away, bouncing his knee before glancing at you. He's always had an intense stare, but for some reason, this particular look in his eyes steals the air from your lungs.

"In that case..." he inhales deeply, and blows out in his next breath, "Do you? Love it, I mean?"

"What? Of course I-" Wait. Wait.

Vernon's nerves are taking over again, evident in his rambling. "I'm sorry, I know I'm springing this... I didn't know how to tell you it was... you. But it's you, it always was for you, and if that makes you uncomfortable I-"

You don't give him a chance to finish, closing the distance between the two of you, slipping a hand behind his head and pressing your mouth to his. Vernon inhales sharply before immediately melting into the kiss, hands falling to your waist and sighing against your lips as you pull away with a grin.

Vernon’s eyes flicker open, all previous nerves visibly deflating from his body. “I take it you really do love it, then?”

You giggle and kiss him again, just for good measure, feeling lightheaded. “What do you think?”

Vernon laughs softly, squeezing your waist gently and pulling you closer to him, eyes alight with happiness. “Mission accomplished.” He murmurs with quiet delight before kissing you again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

seventeen masterlist

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[teastainedprose]

Breaking Point (Homelander x reader)

Homelander delights in teasing you until he needles you too much on the wrong day. 1.5k words | Jerk Homelander to guilty Homelander, hurt/comfort if you squint. Homelander x gn!reader, implied chronic pain reader, implied plus-sized reader, [A03]

You are so soft. Your flesh gives under his grasp when he yanks you by the arm, careless with how it makes you stumble. Homelander laughs mockingly at the small, annoyed twitch of your lip as he tugs you close. Too close.

"Hey. Where are those new poll results, sweetheart?" The words are a purr, warm breath a caress against your cheek as he looms too close to be proper. Everything done with calculated intent to pull a reaction from you.

You stare blankly up at him, expression schooled neutral. You're used to this game. You've watched other employees crack and fracture under the pressure Homelander exerts. You refuse. You're made of sterner stuff, a master of hiding how you're honestly feeling.

He knows he gets to you, but you rarely let it show on the outside. You can school your face, but there's no controlling how he makes your heart hammer in your chest. How being so close to him sets your nerves alight in a pleasant sensation. Homelander leers down at you, pleased at how your pulse skitters under his scrutiny. He releases you, stepping back as the persona of a proper gentleman settles into place. Homelander smiles as he waits for your reply, the well-practiced one that the cameras always catch.

You're quick to give Homelander an indulgent smile back. An exchange of fake expressions as the two of you play nice. You look so placid and calm before him, but Homelander knows better. He can hear your heart jumping in your chest.

"I can pull them up for you right now if you want?" You reply, the words even and calm as you look up expectantly. You're too tired to deal with any bullshit. Homelander's included. You're always too tired.

In his eyes you're so amiable, so sweet. So disgusting. Your response isn't what he wants.  It's controlled and that's no fun. He's not satisfied with your performance. Homelander sneers, whirling away with a flutter of his cape. "Never mind."

You stand there, grimacing in his wake as you rub the spot where he grabbed you. You briefly let your honest emotions flicker freely on your face while his back is turned.. No eyes on you at this moment as sheer frustration and pain settles in. You take a breath as your mask of calm is set back into place. You go on with your day.

Why are you so soft? Under his hands and how you interact with others. Why do you always hand out such easy smiles so freely? He hates that about you. You carry that weary calm like a cloak, but you'll shake it off with a vibrant smile and a laugh if the right person engages you in conversation. They distract you from your fatigue and you light right up.

Homelander has yet to earn one of those sunshine smiles. He gets the fake ones. The ones that make him feel like a child clamoring for attention that you only indulge with your patience. He hates it. It makes him feel small. A god should never feel this way around such a weak mortal as yourself.

As any god does, he lets it bruise his fragile ego. The mortal must be punished and punish you he does. Every day Homelander tries to get a rise out of you. He tries to crack that cheerful facade you've welded in place. It must be fake. No animal has such a cheerful disposition naturally. There's no reason for it because you're so often a lethargic thing. He can smell the weariness on you, the stress, and even pain. How the fuck are you still smiling?

-and why the fuck do you never smile at him? 

Homelander decides, in his usual mature fashion, that if you won't smile? He'll bait out your anger instead. He wants, needs a reaction from you beyond those fake smiles.

He continues to goad you day in and day out. He'll slide right up next to you, too close, and lean down to ask directly into your ear for a report or some statistics on what his numbers are doing. Any old excuse to engage with you. He gleefully invades your personal space and is extra handsy because Homelander knows you hate it while he's aware of the effect it has on your body. 

If he grabs your shoulder and squeezes just so, your breath hitches. If he places a palm against the small of your back, your pulse races away without fail. If Homelander berates your fashion choices or comments on how tired you look, you flash that hollow smile while your eyes speak loathing at him. He wants that fire, craves it.

The tired fatigue that you always carry briefly pulls back to hint at a simmering something. One day he'll get you boiling over. In anger, in lust. It doesn't matter which one as long as it happens with him there to witness it.

Homelander finds himself brimming with anticipation for that day until it finally happens.

Everyone has a breaking point, even you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It's too much, please just-

He's caught you trying to hide away in a conference room, the scent of adrenaline in the air as your heart races. A glance with his x-ray vision reveals you staring off with shaking fists clenched against your plush sides.

Finally!

Will you lash out?  Will you bite back? The thought sends a thrill through Homelander at seeing little Miss Sunshine finally rattled. There's a storm brewing on your face as your fingers tighten. It's an expression Homelander knows he's worn many a time. The sort of look that has interns scattering and Ashley stammering.

What a delight it'll be to see what you unleash. What can you possibly do, as small and soft as you are? Will it be like watching a kitten hiss and claw? Adorably pathetic.

He strides into the conference room with a smirk, the door clicking shut behind him. "There you are! You missed today's meeting, you know." He chides softly with a waggle of one finger as Homelander strides closer. You stare up at him, eyes blazing.

"Now what are we going to do about that?" Homelander goes on, voice as smooth as honey as he smirks down at you.

Something in your expression shifts. A crack in your mask appears.

Gotcha.

"Well?" He prompts, expectant. Giddiness trickles down his spine as Homelander grins wide, fangs on display. He can't wait to see how this rage of yours plays out.

Except you don't unleash anything on him. You don't even insult Homelander, which would give him reason to taunt you further or retaliate. It would give him a reason to finally lash out at you in earnest, but all you're doing is standing there.

Your expression crumples up like wet tissue. The tears are white hot and silently streaking down your face in an instant. The sound you make is beyond pathetic as you drop back into your seat, huddling into yourself. Homelander watches stock-still as you draw your legs up, arms coiling about your knees as you bury your face away from his gaze.

It's a truly pathetic sight, sobbing like the little mud person you are.

Homelander should feel triumphant. His grin twists to a grimace. He awkwardly shifts, gloves creaking as he balls his fingers into fists at his side.

Why isn't he pleased? He's watching you shatter and it doesn't wash him in the usual delight bringing misery to others does. Your sunshine is gone and it's raining on your parade, which is exactly what Homelander wanted.

Your crying should amuse Homelander. He's not amused. Instead, there's a sinking feeling within the pit of his stomach. A dead weight settles heavy inside as all his amusement flees at the sound of your whimpering sobs. It's a foreign sensation and Homelander doesn't like it one bit.

Homelander works his jaw as guilt chews away at his insides, stuck to the spot hovering over you. You continue to cry, quieter now with your back bowed and face hidden. He can smell the salt of your tears easily. 

Silently, he reaches back to pull up the length of his cape. This Homelander offers to you. He doesn't have a handkerchief like a proper gentleman, so this will have to do.

He knows he's broken something. Carelessly snapped it in two. Homelander has done it countless times before. The snap of a spine. Fizzle pop of a control deck. The crackle and sizzle of flesh. The wet sucking sound as organs spill on the floor. It's natural for a creature such as him. Things breaking is a fact of his life. He's never felt guilty about any of those times. Guilt is a rare emotion for Homelander but now it's clawing up his throat, threatening to choke him. 

Homelander blinks and refocuses his gaze as he feels a tug on his cape. He watches in a detached way as you dab at your face with the fabric, sniffling loudly. Homelander can't make himself apologize. He doesn't know how.

Instead, he asks in a surprisingly tentative voice. "Bad day?"

That takes you by surprise as your gaze snaps to him. You stare a beat up at Homelander and then you smile. It's a quavering sort, but it's an honest smile. The sunshine rushes back into your face as Homelander sucks a breath in. Were you always such a lovely little creature?

"Yeah," You say slowly. "Something like that."

[berberriescorner]

"Through It All"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: There aren’t many things that put Rio on edge. Most people see a calm, cool, and collected individual. Keeping a level head is his specialty. What happens when the person he loves most needs him to be strong for both of them? Get a glimpse of what it’s like seeing him hold someone down through thick and thin, in sickness and health. If you know, you know.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND AUTHOR’S NOTE**

Warnings: Angst…like seriously. You’ll understand once you read the author’s note. This fic contains sweet, soft, fluffy Rio. The fic includes some of my crazy humor with a smidge of the character’s inner thoughts. If reading about gynecological procedures makes you uncomfortable, this may not be a fic for you. It doesn’t go into great detail, but it is mentioned and sheds a bit of light. If mentions of the ins and outs of fertility is a soft spot, please read with caution. It isn’t my intention to bring anyone down, but this story is based on parts of my own experiences. Again, the note will explain more.

Author/Personal Note: Okay. Where to start? So, as some of you may know throughout the past two years I’ve been getting cycles of iron infusions. This year, after making several complaints and an ER visit or two. I had an ultrasound performed, which led to me getting surgery months later (the procedure I had done recently). I’ve been spending my days at home recovering, and it’s given me time to reflect. Damn, it’s been a rough couple of years, but I’m so thankful through it all. It’s difficult having a plethora of health issues. This situation put so much added stress on top of it all. As a woman, hearing you have a fibroid. Learning it’s best to get it removed to protect your fertility is scary as hell. You get it done, get sent home, and though you have loved ones taking amazing care of you. It’s still a difficult, challenging process. At times, it’s lonely. No one but you can fully wrap your head around the emotions and feelings the body is going through. It’s pretty wild.

Anywho, sorry y’all. Let me stop rambling and get to the point. We all know how overactive my imagination is. Being stuck in bed, my mind has been wandering. I thought to myself why not take this experience and channel it into a fic. I’m hoping that this will also be a comforting story to anyone who’s been through the same experience. Here is a look at how I envision Rio taking in the experience with his lady. I plan to write at least two more parts for this. Happy reading my lovelies! I wrote this on a whim, in celebration of my birthday, so ignore the grammatical errors my loves. I may come back and do some more editing. Depends on how I’m feeling.

Word Count: 1,800+. 

Inspired By💜:

Random fun fact: Toni Braxton and I have the same birthday😆. Happy Birthday, Queen💓.

Everything was still as a deafening silence fell across the room. It was as if each occupant was afraid to utter a single word. Your mother pretended to distract herself with a Kindle book as your father paced the floor quietly. They’d share a glance each time they checked their watch, smiling at one another in comfort and reassurance. 

Then, together, they directed their attention toward the chair in the far right corner. It was tucked in a tight corner next to a window, giving little relief and comfort to your husband, Rio. He, too was anxious, but no one would ever know it. He was always able to still his facial features. Never one to give his emotions away. The only person who could read him wasn’t in the room. You were on the other side of the building and the reason for your families’ nervousness. No longer able to stand the constant glances and silence, Rio stood from his seat. He released a breath, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Turning to your parents, he stated, “I’m going to grab a quick cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Would you two like something?”

Your mother, a gentle, nurturing soul, responded for both of them.

“No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry. I’ll come find you if we receive news.”

Rio ducked away in a vacant spot in the cafeteria, hands folded over top of the steam of the coffee. He searched for peace and solace until a jolting vibration exploded in his jacket pocket. Fumbling for the phone, he answered without looking.

“What they say ma-. Oh, my bad. Wassup? Everything good?” Rio listened patiently before snapping. “You know this is something you could’ve handled yourself, right? I don’t have time for the three stooges bullshit today.”

He instantly felt a slight pang of guilt. Rio realized that the stress and worry of his current situation were influencing his mood. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Inhaling, he continued, “My bad bro. She’s been in for three hours, and it’s got me tweaking. Nobody’s giving us any damn answers. It’s a non-invasive procedure, but it’s still considered major surgery. I just need to hear she’s good.”

“It’s all good, boss. I know you’re worried about wifey. She’s a strong woman. Boss lady’s going to be alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Call me as soon as you know something,” Mick responded.

“You're right. Thank you for holdin’ shit down.”

He laid his phone on the table, burying his face in his hands. The last few moments he spent with you were on repeat in his mind. Rio returned to the present, hearing the chair opposite him slide backward. His eyes connected with your father’s, and he readied himself for wherever the conversation would go.

It was no secret that the two hadn’t always seen eye to eye. The two men sat for several minutes before your father started speaking.

“I’ll be honest with you, man. You’re not at all what I envisioned for my daughter.”

“You seriously want to have this conversation right now?”

“Now wait, son. Let me finish.”

Hold up. It’s son now? Where is this going? It didn’t even sound disrespectful. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to play me on some sucka shit. I’ll hear him out.

Rio nodded his head, giving your father the floor.

“I may not know all you do for a living, son, but I know you’ve managed to make a comfortable and safe life for my baby girl. When it comes down to it, that’s what I’ve always wanted for her. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I know, without a doubt, that you’re doing everything in your power to make her feel protected and loved. Let me just say what I’m getting at,” he chuckled. “You’re good at hiding it, son, but I know you’re worried. Hell, so are we, but that’s alright.”

Rio’s head dropped, shoulders slumping. He took the opportunity to be vulnerable finally. Your father’s acceptance allowed him the space to do so. He felt a comforting grip land on his shoulder. Your father finished, “Baby girl is going to be alright, son. With all your love and support, she’ll be back on her feet soon. Now, you take a few more moments to yourself. Don’t be surprised when her momma wraps you up in a big hug when you head back. She’s worried about her favorite son-in-law.”

Rio chuckled, “I’m her only son-in-law, sir.”

“Even better. You ain’t gotta share. That sweet woman sure knows how to smother people in love.”

“You’re daughter is the same way. It’s one of the many things I love about her.”

“Which is why you understand my reasons for being so guarded. That’s my baby girl. Enough with that ‘sir’ shit too. Call me pops. My son may not like that, but I get a kick out of irritating him anyway. He’s overprotective of his sister.”

“Y’all gon’ try to take me out if I ever mess up, huh?”

“What I look like snitching on myself? Let’s not ever get to that bridge, son.”

The two men shared a laugh, but everything turned serious when they saw your mom power walking towards them. Rio's heart began thudding in his chest.

“Ma, what’s wrong? Did-.”

“Relax, sugar,” she cooed, rubbing a hand against both men’s arms. “The nurse said the doctor should be ready to talk to us in about fifteen minutes. Let’s head back to the waiting room.”

Fifteen minutes came and went. Your mother couldn’t help but crack a smile at both men. They both started fussing about how long the surgeon was taking. She felt sorry for the man once he approached them. The doctor, attempting to apologize, was cut off by an impatient Rio.

“You good, doc. We understand these things take time, but excuse us for being anxious. We were under the impression this would be about an hour-long procedure. How’s my wife?”

The surgeon explained himself. “That’s what we anticipated, but the process took longer. Your wife’s last ultrasound a few months back showed a fibroid the size of a plum. Sadly, it grew to the size of an orange, which would explain why things grew more difficult during her last few cycles. However, you’ll be happy to know that we managed to do it laparoscopically, and everything looks great. She’s being taken to recovery now, but we’ve decided to keep her overnight.”

All three of your family members asked, “Why is that,” in unison.

“We just want to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. Given gas was used to see things more clearly, we’d like to monitor her. We’ll need to see that she gets up and walks to get things flowing. I just want to be sure she gets it moving out of her system. Also, since she’s anemic, we just want to be extra careful. I promise everything went well, and she should be ready to go in the morning.”

Each family member felt at ease. The trio waited for an invitation to your recovery room. Though he wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke up, Rio encouraged your parents to go first. The two visitors' only rule irritated them all.

Your eyes fluttered open, and your parents laughed at the slurred responses given to your nurse. Your parents took turns kissing your forehead, expressing encouraging words. Your father, now at ease, left the room in search of Rio.

“You might want to hurry back there. She’s still a bit loopy. Baby girl has been asking the nurse, where my husband? You got my baby acting ratchet in this hospital,” he joked.

“Aye, she was like that when I met her,” he laughed, walking towards recovery.

Rio slid behind the curtain, laying eyes on the most precious sight. You were in bed, laid back, eyes closed, singing off-key as your mother held your hand, laughing. The nurse stepped beside him, giving a small giggle.

“She’s been looking for you. Ma’am, the man of the hour is here.”

Your eyes popped open as you halted the song. “My husbannnd! Hey baeee,” you winced, given the pain and having a hoarse voice.

“Mama, you back here wildin’ ain’t you? How’s our little patient doing, ma,” he directed toward your mom.

“Crazy as ever. This girl opened her eyes, looked at me, and called herself whispering. Loud as ever, she asked me if she still had a uterus. Her daddy would’ve turned red if he were capable.”

They both shared a laugh as you did your best to shrug shoulders. Wanting to give you two privacy, your mom went to sit in the waiting room. Rio turned to you, holding your hand. His lips brushed across your knuckles, and he shivered at how cold they were. Wrapping his hand around yours, he tried warming the digits.

“My momma ain’t answer my question though,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

Rio smiled, “What’s that now, mama?”

“My uterus. Sis still in there, right?”

“Yes, darlin’. What makes you think it’s not?”

“I signed them papers, man. In the event of a ‘mergency, they were going to take shawty,” you sassed, words still slurring.

Rio did his best to hold back a cackle. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mama, you straight. Everything went according to plan. There was no emergency. The fibroid is out. It was bigger than expected. That’s why it feels like you were out for a while.”

“Aight bet. So when we making babies,” you asked, wincing again.

“First off, sit still, mama. Your body is pretty sore right now.”

“Baby, I’m drugged up! I don’t feel nothin’.”

“Second. You’ll be recovering for four to six weeks. You’re not going to be in any type of mood for all that. I believe the surgeon said no sex for two to three weeks. No babies for at least six months, darlin’. They just sliced your uterus open and stitched it back together, mama,” he explained, running his thumb across your lip.

He laughed at the pout etched on your face. Rio caressed the side of your face, kissing you gently. “On some real shit. I was worried out my mind over you, mama. I’m so glad you’re good. You’re my world. The clock kept ticking, and I was about to lose it.”

Your eyes connected with his, “I’m right here, papa. I’m good. We gonna be good. No matter what,” you whispered. Even through the drugs and drowsiness, you could feel his angst. Rio could read between the lines. He knew what you were trying to communicate. It had been on both your minds heavily. Your eyes connected with his. Rio saw the unshed tears you were holding back, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head in agreement. No matter where this path led, Rio knew, in his heart, that he loved you with everything in him.

Baby or not, we’ll still feel fulfilled and happy. My life’s purpose is to love and give you the world.

This piece was both personal and therapeutic for me to write. I truly hope you all enjoyed it. Please be sure to comment and reblog, it's appreciated. Now I'm about to go eat some birthday cake and read some amazing fan fiction😆.

Divider credit💜 : @firefly-graphics

tagging💜 : @4everbrookemarie @darqchilddaydreamz @astoldbychae @sunshine-flower

@nightlywords7 @starrynite7114 @amorestevens @fineanddandy

@rio-reid-whoreee @that-one-anxious-mango @novaniskye

@alertyoulikeitsamber @1andonlytashae @lovedlover @blkbutterfly816 @banana123pudding

[moonselune]

hiiii I’m such a fan! I was browsing ur page and I saw your requests were open!! I’ve had this idea that I think you could pull off really well (if you want of course) of headcannons with Gale and Wyll and whoever else you want from the main crew. But it’s a bard Tav where Tav is a really free spirited performer, kinda Stevie Nicks-ish if that makes sense? But just how they would react to their partner performing and being so filled with whimsy lol

of course, take your time, and take care of yourself, love ya 💋

aww thank you and I love you too nonnie ! oxox

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The Elfsong Tavern was buzzing with anticipation, the usual chatter fading to a murmur as you stepped onto the small wooden stage. Tonight, the dim, flickering lanterns cast a warm glow around the room, amplifying the earthy wood tones and illuminating the eager faces of patrons crowded around their drinks. You stood under the lights, dressed in layers of flowing scarves, fringed shawls, and beads that caught every glint of candlelight, giving you an otherworldly aura. The intricate braids and delicate trinkets woven through your hair shimmered, and your movements seemed to echo the fluidity of the music you were about to bring to life.

The tavern was filled with your companions, too; Wyll and Astarion had secured a spot near the back, their friendly bickering put on pause as they waited for your performance. Shadowheart leaned casually against the wall, though her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and Karlach was already clapping her hands in encouragement. After all, you were their one shot of paying off the drinking tab they had racked up. But amid the gathered faces, it was Gale who watched you most intently, his gaze unwavering as if committing every detail to memory. You could tell he was more than eager for this; he had heard you sing before, but he’d never seen you perform like this. Tonight, he had the look of someone watching a dream come to life before him.

As you took a deep breath, your gaze met his, and you felt a jolt of warmth, steadying you before the first note escaped your lips. When you started to sing, your voice was soft yet powerful, like smoke rising from a fire, filling every corner of the room. The melody was haunting, weaving tales of distant lands, lost lovers, and ancient magic as if you were spinning a spell in every verse. The music ebbed and flowed, pulling everyone in and wrapping them in a shared reverie. You let your hands drift through the air, each gesture enhancing the magic of your performance, your body moving with an effortless grace that only added to the ethereal atmosphere.

Gale sat close, his eyes wide with wonder, his usual thoughtful expression replaced by one of pure, unfiltered awe. He had known you were talented, but he hadn’t realized the depth of your gift until this moment. It was as though he was seeing the essence of you laid bare, wrapped in a voice that seemed to pull emotions from his soul he didn’t even know he had. His hand rested over his chest as he watched, his breath shallow, and his cheeks flushed as he tried—and failed—to keep a grin off his face.

With each song, the patrons were drawn deeper into the dreamscape you painted, applauding wildly between sets, shouting for more. Coins began piling up in the small pouch you’d left at the stage’s edge, a few admirers even coming forward to drop in gems and trinkets as tokens of their appreciation. When your final song faded, you looked out at the room, allowing yourself a breath of relief and satisfaction as the patrons erupted in applause, whistles, and cheers.

Sweeping down to gather your earnings, you glanced over at Gale, giving him a knowing smile. The coins clinked together in the pouch, heavy and promising, enough to pay off the tab and keep the camp well-supplied for some time.

“So,” you teased, swinging the pouch of coins playfully, “what do you think, Master Wizard? Impressed?” You couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the flush of color that had spread over his cheeks.

But he didn’t answer with words. Instead, he rose from his seat and, before you could say another word, leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss. His hands were gentle but sure as they settled on your waist, his lips warm and soft against yours. The kiss was deep, sweetly lingering, full of every unspoken word of adoration he could convey. You felt him smile slightly against your mouth, his kiss a mix of passion and pride, as though he couldn’t help but show you how much he cherished this moment. When he finally pulled away, there was a brightness in his eyes, a joyful awe that left you a little breathless.

“That was… breathtaking,” he murmured, voice a touch unsteady, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “You were absolutely enchanting. You always are, but tonight… I feel as though I’ve just met you all over again.”

The way he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world, made your cheeks warm, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“You might just have to meet me all over again later, then,” you teased, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “For now, I think we’ve got some celebrating to do.”

His laugh was rich and warm as he nodded, reaching out to clasp your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The other patrons were still clapping, some singing bits of the songs you had just performed, filling the tavern with life and mirth. As you looked around, clutching Gale’s hand tightly, you felt a surge of joy and a sense of belonging that was only strengthened when you glanced back at him.

“Perhaps,” Gale said, leaning close with a mischievous grin, “we could arrange a more private encore? Not for gold this time, but… let’s say, for inspiration.”

You chuckled, cheeks still warm, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’d be delighted, Gale,” you murmured, letting your thumb graze over his as you both made your way back through the crowd, the tavern still ringing with laughter and song.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The Elfsong Tavern was packed tonight, each seat filled and standing room claimed by folks eager to catch a glimpse of the rare performance. Word had spread that there was someone different gracing the stage, a figure draped in layers of midnight blue and silver with cascades of lace and ribbon, a glimpse of gold dusting your cheeks and collarbone. A glimmering amulet rested against your collar, catching the dim, amber tavern lights, casting an ethereal glow as you moved gracefully across the small, candle-lit stage.

At the back of the room, Wyll had found a perch along the wall, one hand resting on his hip as he leaned back, eyes fixed on you. He’d heard you sing before, often in quiet moments meant only for him and only with the flickering light of a campfire between you. It had been a comfort, the way your voice brought life to tales of distant places and people, weaving threads of fantasy that had soothed his weary spirit after long days. He’d known your voice was magic, but this was different. Tonight, you were stepping onto a stage that turned every eye in the tavern toward you, and he found himself awash in pride and something deeper, something far harder to name.

When you began to sing, the lively hum of the crowd faded into an awe-struck silence. Your voice rose, weaving tales of wild-hearted love, of spirit unbound by law or fear. Each word seemed spun from silver and mist, filling the room with a longing so palpable that Wyll felt his own heart pull with it. He barely registered the breaths he took; each one was held between your lyrics, his gaze transfixed by the way you moved, as if the tavern itself became a world of your creation, an enchanted space, and everyone present was helplessly pulled into your orbit.

You sang of love lost and found, of adventures taken in far-off lands under strange, foreign skies. The layers of your voice, low and haunting, rose to peaks of passion, before returning to gentle refrains that wrapped around each listener, drawing them into your spell.

Your eyes, half-lidded and glittering, swept the crowd but always returned to Wyll, grounding him even as he felt himself drifting deeper into your enchantment. It was as if he were seeing you for the first time, and the realization that he could fall even deeper, love you more wholly, made his heart skip a beat.

As the final note faded, the crowd broke into thunderous applause, cheers rising and the atmosphere charged with a sort of collective reverence. You smiled, a soft, almost private smile, as you offered a bow, looking radiant in the warm light, your cheeks flushed with joy. You slipped off the stage, weaving through the tables until you found yourself standing before him. Your expression shifted to that familiar look, a soft amusement in your eyes as you caught Wyll’s unblinking gaze.

“Well, my gallant hero,” you teased, nudging him playfully, “how much gold did we rake in?”

Wyll blinked, still dazed as he registered your words, his eyes slowly focusing.

“The gold… right, of course, the gold…” He fumbled in his pocket, eyes still locked onto yours as if you’d vanish if he looked away. He was meant to collect gold, to raise some money for the refugees stuck in Rivington. His lips parted, and he tried again. “The gold’s… here. I think…”

You chuckled, crossing your arms as you tilted your head, studying him with a raised eyebrow. “Wyll Ravengard, did I leave you speechless?”

“Speechless?” he said, a bit dazed, before laughing softly, his voice catching. “You left me… spellbound.” He reached for your hand, fingers grazing over your knuckles as he held your gaze, his dark eyes warm and reverent. “I knew you were magic, love. But I didn’t know…” He trailed off, swallowing as he shook his head, his hand squeezing yours. “Didn’t know you could make the world disappear like that.”

Your smile softened, your fingers tightening in his as you took a small step closer. “Just a little music, Wyll.”

“No,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “It’s you.” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Every word, every note… I swear it was just for me.” You could see him wrestling with his own words, fumbling for how to say what he felt.

Finally, he let out a soft chuckle, his expression slipping into something both tender and slightly bashful as he ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’m a fool, standing here in a love-struck haze when we’ve got a tavern’s worth of coins to count."

“Maybe so,” you murmured, unable to resist a grin as you reached up, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “But it’s quite charming, you know?”

He grinned, the teasing warmth in his expression faltering slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you close. His hand found the small of your back, his other tracing the edge of your jaw as he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours. His voice softened to a whisper, as if sharing a secret only meant for you.

“I don’t ever want to stop loving you like this,” he said, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “You make me feel… everything. As if all the world could vanish, and I’d still have everything I need, right here with you.”

You felt your heart stutter, warmth flooding through you as you leaned into his touch, your own fingers curling around the back of his neck.

“Wyll Ravengard,” you whispered, leaning in until your lips brushed his, “if you keep this up, we may just end up broke—because I’ll only be singing for you.”

His laughter was soft, breathy, and it melted into a sigh as he pressed his lips to yours, the tavern and its patrons fading away until it felt like just the two of you beneath a star-lit sky.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Awww i do love these softies. Hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[fourthavecafe]

sukuna discovering you’re ticklish

Sukuna had always found humans amusing in their fragility, their emotions, their weakness. But you? You were something else entirely. You were small, fragile and yet somehow, he never broke you despite the power he held. He had always used you like a toy, tossing you around with little care but you never seemed to mind. You'd stick by his side regardless, laughing or smiling even when he was at his coldest.

Tonight, however, Sukuna stumbled upon something entirely new.

It started innocently enough. His large, clawed hand rested on your stomach, half out of boredom, half because he enjoyed the way you tensed under his touch. You had always been so reactive-wide-eyed and flustered by his every move. He thought it was adorable in a way he didn't want to admit.

But then something strange happened. His fingers pressed down a bit harder, squeezing the soft flesh of your tummy and you let out a sound he hadn't heard from you before.

A laugh.

At first, Sukuna paused, confused. His crimson eyes narrowed, staring down at you like you had just performed some sort of magic trick. His grip hadn't been hard, certainly not enough to hurt you but the way you had burst into laughter-completely involuntary-caught him off guard.

"What was that?" His voice was cold, but there was a hint of curiosity there, a rare emotion for him. He squeezed again, his fingers digging into your side experimentally.

This time, you squirmed, another burst of laughter escaping you, your body shaking as you tried to push his hand away. "S-Sukuna! Stop! That tickles!"

“Tickles?” Sukuna tilted his head, watching you with a mixture of confusion and fascination.

Tickling. It was a concept entirely foreign to him but the way your body reacted was... intriguing. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he pressed down again, this time on purpose.

You erupted into laughter again, your body jerking and twisting under his hand. "p-Please! S-Stop!"

But Sukuna didn't stop. If anything, his interest grew.

His other hand came down, prodding your side with more intent, his long fingers exploring your skin with an almost clinical precision. It was as though you had suddenly become an object of study, a toy for him to play with.

"What's the matter? Can't handle this?" he asked, his voice cold and taunting. He continued to tickle you without a shred of empathy, completely unfazed by your desperate giggles and pleas. Your body was thrashing now, twisting and curling in an attempt to escape his unrelenting hands.

Your face turned red, laughter pouring from you uncontrollably as Sukuna's fingers roamed over your ribs, down to your waist and back to your stomach. He poked, squeezed and pressed all while watching your reaction with an almost scientific interest.

"Why are you laughing? I'm not doing anything funny" he said, genuinely confused but thoroughly entertained. For him, this was a new discovery-something he had never experienced before. The fact that simply touching you in certain spots could result in such a dramatic reaction fascinated him.

Your words were barely coherent between your laughter. "Sukuna! I-I can't-stop! | can't breathe!"

But Sukuna was unrelenting, pushing you further. He had no idea why your body was becoming limp, why your strength was draining away with every burst of laughter, but it intrigued him. You weren't resisting anymore, only trying to squirm away weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you laughed uncontrollably.

"You're so weak" he said, his voice cold as he gave your side one last squeeze.

"Humans are ridiculous." He was more amused by how helpless you were, confused that something so simple could reduce you to a writhing, laughing mess beneath him.

Finally, Sukuna stopped, his hands withdrawing from your body as he looked down at you. You were panting, your face flushed and your body completely spent. It was clear you were utterly exhausted from the tickling, your limbs limp, and your breath coming in shallow bursts.

Sukuna's eyes lingered on you for a moment, his expression unreadable. He still didn't fully understand why humans reacted this way, why something as insignificant as his hands on your skin could cause such a reaction. But he didn't hate it.

He leaned down, his face close to yours as he studied your expression. "You're still alive, aren't you?" he teased, though his voice lacked the usual venom. He had seen you in so many different states-happy, scared, shy—but this? This was something new.

You nodded weakly, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of laughter. "Y-Yeah." you managed to gasp out, though you were still catching your breath.

Sukuna's lips curled into a smirk, his fingers twitching like he was tempted to tickle you again. "Pathetic. But amusing." He straightened up, looking down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and mild curiosity. "I'll have to experiment with this... tickling thing more."

And with that, he left you lying there, still recovering, completely at his mercy, while he walked away, still trying to comprehend the strange concept of human ticklishness.

[liviawildrose]

𝐞𝐠𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞

hey loves, let’s talk about one of my favorite energy-cleansing rituals: egg cleansing. it’s a practice rooted in ancient traditions (think mexican curanderismo, filipino spiritual beliefs, and other cultures) and is all about removing negative energy, bad vibes, or even spiritual blockages. i’m obsessed with how simple, yet powerful it is. if you’re feeling drained, stuck, or like something just isn’t right, this might be exactly what you need.

here’s a step-by-step guide to help you try it out:

ingredients

• 1 fresh egg (organic if possible—keep that energy pure!)

• a glass of water, salt, (chilly flakes and black salt)

how to perform an egg cleansing

1. set your intention:

• before starting, center yourself. light a candle, burn some incense, or say a quick prayer/affirmation like:

“i release all negativity and invite peace and clarity into my life.”

2. prepare the egg:

• rub some salt on the egg (massage the egg with salt) hold the egg in your hands and infuse it with your intention. visualize it absorbing all the bad vibes, negativity, and heavy energy that’s been lingering

3. cleanse your aura:

• starting at the crown of your head, gently roll the egg over your body. move downward head, neck, shoulders, chest, arms, stomach, legs, and finally your feet. don’t forget your back and sides if possible.

• as you do this, visualize the egg soaking up all the negativity. you can say something like:

“this egg absorbs all that does not serve me.” “this egg is absorbing all the negative energy” “i can finally start on a clean slate now”

4. crack the egg into water:

• once you’re done, carefully crack the egg into a glass of water (add some salt too in the water). be gentle; you don’t want to break the yolk right away.

• look at the egg and water for any patterns, bubbles, or shapes. these can symbolize the energy it picked up:

bubbles or spikes: negativity or tension.

cloudy whites: emotional heaviness.

cloudy water: signifies confusion, stress, or emotional overwhelm.

blood spots in the yolk: can indicate psychic attacks, curses, or unresolved trauma.

multiple bubbles in the yolk: represents people or situations contributing to your stress.

floating yolk or egg white: suggests unresolved emotions or health concerns.

a clear yolk and water: you’re in the clear, babe!

5. dispose of it properly:

• pour the chilly flakes and black salt mixture in it and flush it down the toilet or bury it far from your home. never keep the egg it’s carried away the energy you want to be free from.

pro tips for the best results

• perform this ritual during the waxing moon or full moon for heightened power.

• try doing this while in showers (naked) i did it like that

why it works/ why i did it

it’s not just about the egg. the act of intentionally focusing on your energy, visualizing negativity leaving your body, and creating sacred time for yourself is powerful af. combine that with the natural spiritual conductivity of an egg, and you’ve got a low-key yet magical ritual.

if you’ve ever tried this or plan to, let me know your experience! spiritual hygiene is just as important as physical hygiene, and rituals like this remind us to check in with ourselves.

so, yesterday something huge happened in the cosmos—pluto shifted into aquarius. if you know anything about astrology, you know this is massive energy. like, i felt it immediately. this shift brought this overwhelming urge to reinvent myself, release the old, and just become. but before stepping into this new chapter, i knew i had to cleanse myself energetically, spiritually, emotionally. i needed to clear all the stuck energy weighing me down. that’s why today, i pulled out one of my favorite rituals: the egg cleanse. it felt symbolic, like cracking open a whole new version of me. with Pluto entering Aquarius, this is the time to embrace transformation, growth, and that next-level glow up.

if you want to join me on this journey of becoming a higher self. please comment, like, reblog, and follow let's embrace the glow of together.

[retropopcult]

"Thirteen" is a song by American rock band Big Star.  Rolling Stone describes it "one of rock's most beautiful celebrations of adolescence", and rated it #396 on their list of the 500 greatest songs of all time. It was written by Alex Chilton and Chris Bell.

The name of the album was #1 Record, which was bitterly ironic, as it ended up selling under 10,000 copies upon its initial release in 1972 (the name of the band also proved to be an unfortunate misnomer, because outside of critics and other musicians, they remained virtually anonymous during their brief time together).

Bell and Chilton wanted to emulate the Lennon/McCartney formula as much as they could, so they shared credit on many of their songs even though there was in fact little writing collaboration between the two. “Thirteen" was in fact entirely Chilton’s creation, and he also delivers the aching vocal that vacillates between hope and heartache and that many cover versions have tried to emulate but never quite matched.

The yearning acoustic ballad focuses on an age that is somewhat underrepresented in pop and rock music. Chilton found that bittersweet spot when innocence still lingers but more complicated emotions start to work their way into the picture.

Over tender guitars, he begins with a question that thirteen-year-old boys have been asking thirteen-year-old girls for generations: “Won’t you let me walk you home from school?” “Won’t you let me meet you at the pool?” he follows, again treading lightly so as not to scare her away. He eventually suggests a date at the dance on Friday; “And I’ll take you,” Chilton delicately sings, as if anything more forceful than a gentle plea will destroy his chances.

In the second verse, the narrator for the first time reveals an obstacle blocking the path to this girl for whom he is clearly falling hard: “Won’t you tell your Dad get off my back?” he asks her. His response to the doubting father is brilliant: “Tell him what we said about ‘Paint It Black.’” By drawing a parallel between his own musical tastes and that of the father, he’s hoping to show that he’ s not just some punk kid with bad intentions.

The final verse finds him struggling as she remains seemingly unknowable (“Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking of?”) resulting in his sweet but awkward follow up (“Would you be an outlaw for my love?”) His final lines redeem him in terms of his integrity and honor, even as they suggest that he’ s losing his opportunity with her in the process: “If it’ s no then I can go/ I won’ t make you.” The final “Ooo-hoo” that Chilton utters is a real killer, tinged as it is with the sting of implied refusal.

Over the decades there have been some fine cover versions of this classic, with brilliant and diverse artists like Garbage, Wilco, and Elliott Smith taking their turns, among many others. But they’d likely all agree they were playing for second behind Chilton’s one-of-a-kind, haunting performance. “Thirteen” is as good as it gets for those looking to relive that moment when life is still rife with possibilities but love seems stubbornly impossible.

Music critic Simon Robinson rates it as Big Star's best song and one of the most important of 1972, praising the "catchy melody and jangly guitars that perfectly capture the carefree and optimistic spirit of youth" and the "simple yet poignant" lyrics that evoke the "experience of teenage romance and heartbreak."

[mysteria157]

Chapter 13

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~14.4k

CW: profanity, minor character death, angst, coping with grief

Summary: You and Nanami navigate through grief.

Notes: This is angst heavy and while I was so sad writing it, it’s my favorite chapter in terms of emotion. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <;3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

“Do you purposely style your hair that way?”

The corner of his eye twitched, irritation flaring in his gut from the source of the voice. He had tried all day just to get a semblance of peace.

Gojo followed him around most of the morning, chattering about something he had barely listened to. Geto had followed him, silent as usual but his presence alone only encouraging his best friend. Lunch was the only time he could find a secluded spot and just be alone.

The small oak tree next to the track field was easily overlooked; no one ever ventured that far unless they were there to exercise and even then it was quiet and tranquil. He thought he was safe.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but I am pretty curious.”

He sighed slowly, shoulders sagging in resignation as he closed his book without making a new marker. There was no use in ignoring him, he had been followed by intrusive people all day and every day since high school began. If he could tolerate Gojo and his loud and smothering personality and still remain sane, he could tolerate anyone.

“Are you ignoring me? I won’t go away.”

Oh, how he wished the opposite.

The source of the voice was staring at him cheerily, brown hair dangling in the air and slightly comically large eyes twinkled in his direction, his entire face upside down as he hung from a low branch of the strong tree. An upside down eyebrow quirked in his direction, large mouth flashing at him as the source swayed slightly.

“The style seems intentional, but I’ve never seen a lot of people wear it that way.”

“Is there a reason why you care so much?”

A shrug, hanging arms pulling to accommodate the movement that would normally be performed rightside up.

“Are you sad?”

He folded his arms across his chest, eyes impassive and blank, a dark blonde eyebrow twitching as his irritation flared to life once more. He hated vague questions that left the answers open to interpretation. And while he appreciated the directness of the question, it was still invasive and unnecessary.

“Is there a reason why you have chosen to bother me? I don’t even know you.”

“I don’t know you either.”

He blinked at him in surprise, annoyance now joining the party and festering with his irritation, swirling together to create what would surely be a headache if he didn’t fix the situation quickly.

“I’m leaving.”

He made to get up, grabbing his book and throwing his bag over his shoulder. The man fumbled, his movements struggling from his haphazard form, arms flailing and face turning more red from the rush of blood to his skull.

“Okay I’m sorry! But its like you make yourself look broody on purpose! I had to know.”

He threw the man an exasperated look, the last fibers of his patience dissolving into the wind that had picked up around them both.

“It is not on purpose. It’s how I like to style my hair. Furthermore, I really do not have to explain anything to you.”

The man was quiet, large eyes flashing with guilt and flooding his face quickly. The sight was something he had seen on others frequently, but right now on his face, it felt foreign. Wrong. The guilt that had colored his features gave way to mirth, large eyes twinkling at him as he smirked.

“But you still did now, didn’t you?”

And just like that, he was done entertaining. He stood up, snatching his book from the grass and making for a start to the cafeteria. Maybe he could find an empty classroom to retreat to with what remained of his lunch break.

He ignored the yells of apology from the man behind him, closed his ears to the heavy groan as the man fell from the tree and plopped onto the dry grass, and kept his eyes forward even as the man jogged up to him, showing in his peripheral as he fell into step with him. The man didn’t speak for a while, the sound of grass and sticks snapping beneath their feet, the gentle hum of the wind around them sifting through the thin fabric of their clothes, the growing volume of chatter as they drew closer to the school cafeteria.

“I’m Haibara by the way.”

“That’s funny, I don’t recall asking for your name at all.”

He expected choked protests and loud shouts of playful indignation from his statement. It’s what always happened when he spoke to Gojo and sometimes even Shoko after they had pulled him too thin. They never gave up and always made it clear that his statements caught them off guard and only served as fuel to keep going, keep prodding, keep picking until he was red faced and teetering with frustration and annoyance. 

But Haibara remained silent, prompting him to look over. His large eyes were closed, hands shoved into the pockets of his black jacket, brown hair billowing from the wind and face turned up toward the sky as he soaked in the patchy sunlight from such a cloudy day. The relaxed smile on his face was hard to miss. Haibara looked like he was content to go about his day even if this interaction didn’t go well. Even if he never got his name, he would probably walk into the cafeteria with a smile on his face, sit next to his friends, and carry on about his day knowing he at least met someone new.

He didn’t understand it. 

“I’m Nanami.”

Haibara’s eyes popped open, his mouth dropping into a shocked ‘o’ as he realized he had struck paydirt. He looked over at Nanami, his already joyful face breaking as he smiled brightly in his direction.

“Oh ho ho we break the ice at last. Ooo! How about Nanamin? It really rolls off the tongue.”

“I will slap you.”

 ***

It was easy to get up and go to work every morning. It was easy to put on a pair of slacks and a button up, throw on a blazer and a crisp tie and shove his feet into nice shoes that he had worked hard for. It was easy to gel and part his hair, push the unusual glasses further up the bridge of his nose and slide on his Cartier watch before heading out the door and towards the office.

It was easy because the facts did not lie.

Everyone dies and time waits for no one.

Carry on.

Carry on even though Yaga had implored that Kento take a few weeks of bereavement. Carry on even though Gojo had hovered even more and his usual playful looks and comments were instead filled with sadness and worry. Carry on even though you had been nothing but supportive and caring and wonderful, trying your best just to let him know that he wasn’t alone, arms open to catch him when he finally decided to fall.

But it made no sense to fall.

It made no sense to take bereavement. What for? Yu wasn’t a family member or a partner. Taking bereavement was available to him because Yaga respected him, and Kento refused to set that precedent in the office. It made no sense for Gojo to change how he carried himself around Kento. Gojo and Yu were friends, but they were never as close as Yu and Geto. If anything, Gojo’s sudden decline obnoxious behavior only made Kento more annoyed, more angry, more anxious and he had refused to be around him even more than before.

He had thought it would be difficult to go about everyday tasks. It had only been a week but Kento acclimated like a fish to water and the mantra in his head kept him going.

Carry on.

And that’s why it was easy to wake up an hour earlier than usual and run in the cold Nakameguro air until his thighs were burning and his chest was aching and his mind could only think about regulating his heartbeat and nothing else. That’s why it wasn’t so hard to worry about eating when he realized he wasn’t hungry anyway. And even though he would sleep almost twelve hours every night, close his eyes and will himself to dream about getting through the next day, his eyes would be just as weary and heavy as the day before and it was easy to ignore the reason why.

He couldn’t think about it. If he entertained it, if his mind even drifted to that long day in the hospital, if he thought about the image of Gojo with his head in his hands, Kaya’s face soaked with tears and buried in Geto’s shirt as she sobbed ceaselessly, the sound of the Holter monitor incessantly beeping in his ears, if he had just one lapse in his thoughts he would snap. Because he was afraid of how he would react. He was terrified of the thought of sinking deep into a pool of sorrow and despair and never having the strength to come up for air.

He had to carry on. It made no sense at all to do anything else.

In only a week, the walls Kento had pulled up around himself were so thick that even you couldn’t get through. You had grown accustomed to his stoic and serious demeanor, because deep down you knew him. You knew that while he was a serious man who barely tolerated idiotic behavior and open ended questions, he was kind and reserved and sociable around those he felt comfortable with. You knew that the flat and relaxed line of his lips that he showed at work and in public would curl just a little for his family and friends, that his broad and tense shoulders would relax as soon as he was in the comfort of his home, that his direct and blunt words would soften the minute eyes he did not recognize were not on him.

You knew him.

You knew to expect a shift in his behavior the minute he walked through your door that night of Yu’s death. But you never expected a shift to such this degree. It was sudden, sharp and steep, throwing you off axis and making it so hard for you to right yourself.

His side of your bed was cold and empty every morning when you woke up, you were used to that though. He ran almost every morning, waking up at the crack of dawn to slip away into the cold. But he was always back by the time you woke; you were used to the sound of the shower running or pans clanging in your kitchen when your eyes fluttered open. But these past few days, you would already be showered and dressed, toast and eggs made for yourself and some for him and a cup of tea halfway done by the time he sagged through the door, covered in sweat and cheeks red from the cold air and his racing heart. He always smiled at you on his way to the shower, a small gesture that always filled you with warmth every morning, but lately only made your chest ache as you watched the muscles in his face curve but the look in his eyes remain just as dim as the day before.

He would kiss you on the lips and turn down breakfast every morning, using your pregnancy as an excuse to keep you from arguing with him.

It will help with your energy through the day. Don’t worry about me, I’ll grab something at the office.

But you knew he never did; you made Gojo snoop on him at the office to confirm. The white lie shouldn’t have bothered you, lots of people simply forget to eat because life gets crazy, but it only made the dread boil in your stomach, bubbling and thick and growing as each day passed and he buried his little lapses under the blanket of everyday routine.  

It was nauseating that he fell asleep next to you every night with an arm around you like everything was fine, upsetting that he kissed you on the lips before he left for work, troubling that he still went for morning runs, still cooked dinner, still talked about his day at the office. He did all of those things even though you could see the void of darkness in his gaze, the lack of subtle inflection in his usually even voice, the heaviness in his eyes every morning before he disappeared through the door.

It was as if he was trying so hard to go about his day as if nothing had happened, but his body displayed a different picture. Even though his actions were the same, his body only showed you the growing signs of despair, neglect, and sorrow festering beneath his skin, pushing against his epidermis and threatening to burst from the seams.

You had tried everything. Tried to talk to him when he was alone, tried to joke just a little to bring a smile to his face, tried to offer him any sort of affection just to break through the barrier of ice he had put around himself that he thought you couldn’t see, and nothing had worked. When you pulled him out of the house to get dinner, he could only take a few bites before feigning not feeling well with a gentle smile on his face, pushing his food toward you and beckoning you to eat. When you pulled him onto the couch to watch reality tv, he would only stare at the screen, throwing out usual comments that only felt rehearsed and empty. Even when you put a movie on, he would collapse in exhaustion almost immediately.

You knew to give him his space. Grief was never the same for anyone and the process for coping was a journey that each person had to take for themselves. You couldn’t force a reaction from him, it would either push him away from you completely or pull him into an array of emotions that would surely overwhelm him and surely overwhelm you; hearing a loud open mouthed laugh from him still jarred you due to how rare it was, how would you react when his actions stemmed from sadness instead of hilarity?

But you didn’t want him to run. Ignoring the reality of the situation would only make his grief all the harder to process, let alone accept.

The announcement from Kaya of Yu’s memorial came to both you and Kento’s phones a late night when he had managed to stay awake on the couch. Even though his eyes were empty as he looked at the screen, vivid hues and lights flashing in the reflection of his irises, his arm was still warm around you as he pulled you closer to him.

Per Yu’s will, he had outright refused a funeral and it only made sense. Someone as bright and happy as he was would have never wanted the people he loved to wallow and cry as they looked at his cold body inside of a casket. He had opted to have his ashes returned to the earth, buried in the soil under a reserved tree to help it grow and still be connected to things somehow.

He had meant for it to be a joke, a night of too much vodka with his wife before a child was in the picture and he had drunkenly purchased a protected tree at a ‘tree forest’ in Nakameguro with every intention to get his money back the next morning. But he never did. And when Aiko was born and he was forced to acknowledge his waning mortality, he realized keeping the tree would be a good decision in the long run. He hated the thought of rotting away six feet under the ground.

Chiyo and Santo replied in the group chat, offering their home for dinner and a small get together afterwards which Kaya responded with an enthusiastic yes almost immediately.

He was tense next to you as you finished reading the messages, his arm still warm around you but the muscles tight and hard against your skin. It felt as if a string had been pulled tight between you both, sharp scissors open and caressing the string, the sharpness of each side of its shears digging into the hair thin material.

And almost immediately he relaxed against you, hard muscles unflexing, the softness of his arms pillowing against your skin. You spared a glance up at him, smiling softly as his eyes locked with yours, his head already inclined down at you as you studied him. His hair was loose against his forehead, blonde strands messy and frizzy and beckoning for you to run your hands through them. His eyes were so cold, the natural light behind his brown irises completely extinguished. The light from the tv cast an almost eerie glow on his face, highlighting and sharpening his cheekbones, cradling the flat line of his full lips.

You wanted to shake his shoulders, pull his face into your chest and burying your hands into his hair and just allow him to let go. You wanted to stroke the hairs of his undercut, press a kiss to the sensitive spot on the underside of his jaw and tell him that it’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel like its unfair. He was his best friend and he needs him to grieve. It’s okay.

But instead you stroked his cheek with your thumb, the soft skin sliding against your fingerprint and your chest tightening as he inclined his head into your touch for barely a second before he stopped himself, the action making your heart lurch and stutter, a discomforting pain shooting down into your belly.

“I’ll probably go to my apartment tomorrow, I have not been there in quite some time.”

There was a slight hesitation in his tone, his eyes flickering away only a centimeter before they locked with yours again. You didn’t reply to him, continuing to stroke his face as your thumb traced down to the sharp cut of his jaw.

“Are you comfortable with me staying there for a few days?”

You tilted your head in confusion at his question, your thumb now caressing the soft skin of his chin, the rough pad of your finger grazing the small bumps of growing stubble.

“If that’s what you would like. Have dinner at my place and then go to yours? Wont that be a commute for you every day?”

One of his large and warm hands suddenly cradled your wrist, stopping the movement on his cheek as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed the skin of your palm.

“You misunderstand me. I would like to just be at my apartment alone.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp, his touch suddenly scalding to the point of discomfort. The action made his eyebrows pinch, fractionally and barely breaking his face, but still there.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Kento shook his head quickly, taking your hand again in reassurance. You wanted to pull it away, his touch was too hot, your mind moving too fast with irrational implications of his words.

“Absolutely not. I just…I need a little time to just be alone, by myself, with my own thoughts. It has nothing to do with you or anyone, I just feel unwell and unbalanced and I would like to be alone to figure that out.”

You bit the inside of your lip, the pain a welcome distraction from the sudden stinging in your eyes.

“Would you like to talk about it? If you don’t talk about what happened with Yu then—”

“I can’t.”

His voice was practically a whisper. Just two words that were filled with so much pain and so heavy that they weighed between you both, fluttering over to you and pressing against your chest.

This was normal. Let him grieve, give him time. It’s okay.

But it didn’t feel okay. It felt like he was only pulling further and further away from you, the ice around him thickening even more to the point where you couldn’t see him through it.

But you had to stay strong. You had to.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your palm again, his eyes flashing with a variety of emotions all at once before they washed away.

“I can’t talk about it. And I just—I need to have some time to get my thoughts in order, to breathe on my own and think. Just for a few days…at least until the memorial.”

The memorial that was a week away.

Oh.

Your ears were ringing, anxiety blooming in your stomach and seeping into your bloodstream, pumping fast and steady to your heart. The voices in your head screamed nothing but rejection. He wanted to be alone, to think.

Away from you.

No. No you wouldn’t let the thoughts win, you wouldn’t entertain the absurdity blaring in your ears. You blinked up at him, nodding profusely and offering a quick smile that only made the stinging in your eyes intensify.

“Of course. I understand. Just—just know that you can talk to me, Kento. I’m always here. Please don’t think you have to do this alone.”

His steady gaze analyzed the features of your face, taking in the slight misting of your eyes, the small pinch between your eyebrows, the subtle twitch on the side of your lip that wanted to pull into a frown.

He wanted to soothe you, wanted to brush away the discomfort and upset with his hands and his lips and reassure you that things would be okay.

But he just couldn’t. Because the thought of acknowledging his own emotions suddenly made him feel tired. So very tired.

“We should head to bed.”

His usually low voice was scratchy from underuse and strained from something you wanted to hope was sorrow. You wanted to hope the tone in his voice was the sadness finally breaking through and asking for your comfort.

But it didn’t matter, he wouldn’t tell you anyway.

***

“My dear, you’ve hardly touched your tea. I would like to think that I know you well enough by now to know that something is bothering you.”

Chiyo’s soft voice was a startling welcome to your steadily growing anxiety. It had been almost a full week since your talk on the couch with Kento. Almost a full week of one call a day and a few texts to get you by as you gave him the time and space that he needed. Every day you spent on the phone with him, you thought he would sound just a little less despondent. But nothing had changed. And you should have known that. You weren’t naïve to the process. No one should be able to process the grief of a loved one in such a short time.

But it was hard not to feel alone.

Her son’s eyes reflected back at you as you looked up at her, her black hair tied up into a sleek bun, her face freshly cleansed and shining from her rigorous skincare routine that you had gotten to see firsthand. It almost felt like Ome was staring back at you and while Chiyo’s eyes weren’t as alien and cutting as your best friend, they could still read every single emotion on your face with little effort.

Perhaps it was years of being a mother to someone like Kento that gave her the edge. Being able to raise a child as quiet and reserved as him probably gave her the blueprint to reading even the subtlest of cues in almost anyone.

But even still you didn’t want to tell her about your talk with his son a few days prior. She was too protective of him and would no doubt be at his door, begging to come inside and hindering any progress he might be making.

“Has Kento ever had to process grief? Before Yu?”

Hey eyes filled with understanding, dainty shoulders relaxing in her seat as she clutched her steaming mug of coffee closer to her chest.

“Unfortunately, no. Both my mother and father are still alive. Santo’s mother died before Kento was born. Kento has not really changed; he’s always been reserved and direct. He had no problem telling me and his father how he felt about things, because we raised him, we know every intricacy and nuance of our son and I think Kento knew that to pull up some kind of mask around us was asinine. But besides me and Santo…Yu was the closest person to him. I never thought I would see the day of someone else coming into my own home with my son, introducing himself and slowly worming his way into the quiet and well routined life that Kento had made for himself. Yu was just…so good. Everything about him was good and I think the fact that he could acknowledge his own shortcomings and his fears was something that mystified Kento and also encouraged him.”

Chiyo took a solemn sip from her coffee, her eyes suddenly downcast as she contemplated to herself and let the hot coffee slide down her throat.

“Kento for all of his strength and courage and wit, ran from the things that would expose him to the world. He hated the thought of willingly accepting that showing himself to the world might bring ridicule and judgement. In his mind, what was the point of the potential for being hurt if you never had to confront it anyway? It’s why he never went to culinary school, why he never opened a bakery, why he ended his relationships with women before they could get too serious and he would have to open himself up. Accepting vulnerability and showing himself to others who he would never know on a personal level has always been his weakness. And the one person who actually made him a little more willing to break that pattern is dead. I would give anything to bring Yu back, not only for his own family but at least so Kento wouldn’t feel the way that he probably does now.”

You sighed into your mug, the pressure of your breath putting a watery dent in your tea, the steam furling around the cup and hitting your face. You watched the water smooth out, your reflection coming into view as you glared at yourself in frustration.

“Are you going to tell me what’s happened?”

You blinked up at her, eyes a little misty from the steam on your corneas. She offered you a kind gaze, her smooth skin pulling into a soft smile, evaporating all resistance you were desperately trying to hold onto. Her expression only changed fractionally, her eyebrows furrowing in between intervals as you explained the conversation between you and Kento days before. She was quiet for a few seconds too long when you finished speaking, the silence of her large kitchen deafening as she blinked slowly at you, her black long lashes fluttering against her round cheeks before she sighed down into her mug and threw you a somber look.

“You have every right as the mother of his child to give him time in a span that feels comfortable to you. While I don’t think my son would hurt you intentionally, I do know that his emotions and behavior right now are things I’ve never witnessed before so I’m going into this blind.”

She reached across the granite countertop, grabbing both of your hands around your cooling mug of tea. Her hands were warm, as small as yours but radiating a motherly affection that you soaked up like a sponge.

“See how he’s doing at the memorial and go from there. You cant dwell on things that have not happened yet.”

***

The May wind brought a nice draft against the billowy fabric of your v-neck maxi dress. You had opted to pile your curls atop your head, tendrils falling from the hold of the bun and framing your face. Even though the cemetery was so large, the small array of trees reserved specifically for this purpose was a great spot, nestled away from others but not too far to be ignored. Even while drunk, Yu made a great choice. You were thankful that Kaya followed every wish of her husband to the exact detail. The memorial was intended to be intimate and it felt like just that. Your friends, his parents, a few coworkers from the bakery, his daughter and wife; all people who had grown close to him and got to see him for who he was.

Kaya’s words were a blur in the background as you pulled in a deep breath, your eyes drawing up to the canopy of trees above you, the sun peaking through the holes and patches of leaves that had weaved together. Despite the gravity of the situation, everyone seemed to be in high spirits. Gojo had whisked Aiko onto his shoulders, pulling a small smile onto her face as she grabbed fistfuls of his white hair. Ome was watching them both, her smooth features holding a soft smile as her grey eyes took in the sight of the man who has been the bane of her existence entertain a child. Shoko hung in the back, her typical dark shadows beneath her eyes for once covered up with concealer, her hands free of a cigarette as she leaned against a lone tree. Geto hung by Kaya’s side, a hand constantly on her back and soothing her in his own silent way, his typical soft smile only directed at her. Their relationship was a question that you would have to ask Kento. If he would just show up.

The thought of him not being here, of not being able to face Yu’s death, it made your stomach twist to the point of pain. You pulled in a quiet breath to calm your nerves, absentmindedly rubbing the side of your growing stomach and willing yourself to think positively just for today. You had to be okay, you had to be strong.

But you missed him. It had only been a week and even with the constant communication, you missed him so much.

The feel of a hand covering yours on your belly startled you, your eyes flying open as you turned to the source, ready to yell and smack whoever had decided to touch you without asking. But it was only Kento. Face soft, eyes still a little vacant, but that familiar soft smile as he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the skin in what was becoming a habit you were growing all too fond of. You relaxed instantly from the sight of him, your chest unclenching for the first time in days. His loose hair looked good, you couldn’t deny the flare of heat that swept down your spine as you admired him. Even though it was free flowing, his hair was even, without flyaway and freshly clipped along the nape of his undercut. He was dressed in simple black pants and a short sleeved black shirt, the leather of his belt gleaming in the sun. Even with the black Chelsea boots completing his ensemble, the heaviness in his stance made him look smaller and less commanding.

“You look lovely.”

You soaked in his words, taking in every last syllable from his mouth, breathing in the soft richness of his cologne, distracting you from the density of the situation you were both in. You wanted to ask him how he was doing, wanted to see if he would at least come to your home after the memorial, sleep in your bed for at least tonight. But you knew that wasn’t the goal, not right now.

You threaded your fingers through his, relishing the feel of your small hand in his much larger one as you gestured to the crowd around Yu’s tree. The space between his eyebrows pinched, the skin crinkling and pressing together. You took a step in the direction of the crowd, tugging softly on his hand and refusing to react as you felt his fingers tighten against you immediately, sharp and sudden, beckoning you to enable his need to keep away.

“Come say hi to everyone.” Your voice was soft as you looked up at him, offering a small smile as a means to smooth the crease between his brows. “I’m sure Aiko would love to see you.”

That seemed to do the trick as you felt his grip loosen against you, the crease lightening and his throat clearing as he took one step and then another towards the crowd, pulling you unconsciously with him. You followed silently, content to watch him go towards the pull of Aiko’s gentle call of his name, her mother’s hazel eyes shining down at him from Gojo’s shoulders as she lifted her hands, demanding his attention. He answered her immediately, yanking her playfully off of Gojo and blowing a raspberry into her cheek, her squeals carrying through the warm air around her father’s tree.

***

“How is he doing?”

Ome had been surprisingly calm with you these past few weeks. Maybe it was the fact that she knew her typically sarcastic behavior would not work well in the face of grief. Maybe it was the fact that she was too sad herself; she had hardly known Yu but she couldn’t deny that the sadness of others around her had seeped into her pores as well. Maybe it was the fact that you were pretty far in your pregnancy and she didn’t want to risk you ending up in the hospital because you had smacked her for being stupid. Or maybe it was just Gojo. Something had changed with them, shifted almost overnight and she had resolved to simply be supportive of him. Regardless when it all came down to it, she would never leave your side.

You sighed as you took a sip of the water she had brought you in your perch in the Nanami living room. Chiyo had brought the fabric rocking chair out again just for the occasion and practically demanded that you remain seated unless absolutely necessary. When you tried to protest, Kento had doubled down, his empty eyes still looking down at you with worry to the point where you rolled your own eyes and gave up.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Ome.”

“I want to say something, but I’ll be nice because you’re going through a lot.”

“How very gracious of you,” you scoffed, a small smirk growing on the side of your mouth as you glared at her. “I’m just trying to be supportive and I’m struggling. But I’ll get through it.”

Even in her simple black dress, modest and stopping at the tops of her knees, she was of course the most beautiful thing in the room. Gojo, who had normally made twelve passes at her by now had remained silent, his weird blue eyes constantly shifting to her across the room, transfixed in a way that he had long given up trying to joke around. She twirled a kinky curl from her loose hair around her fingers, lips pursed in contemplation before you watched the resolve fill her eyes.

“No one deserves you. I will always say that, I will always believe that. I’ll always protect you until my heart stops beating. But if there’s one man I would want to try and steal you from me, it’s definitely Nanami. He’s trying. Be patient with him, keep doing what you’re doing, and only do what you’re physically able. You’re having a baby soon and as much as you love him, you cant afford for something to happen to your daughter.”

Your ears were burning as you listened to her, the rest of her words fading into nothingness as you replayed what she said. Surely it was a slip of the tongue from her. You tried to rationalize the logic and unlikelihood that Ome would ever mess up with anything. It was rare for her and that only made the ringing in your ears blare louder.

“I can only assume from your blank expression that you went brain dead when I said you loved him? Do have some sense, babe. If I was a man who managed to sleep with you, get you pregnant, and got to be around the type of person that you are, I would be smitten as well.”

You glared at her, the ringing snapping from your ear drums as her sarcastically wrapped compliment made you fill with annoyance. She gazed back at you, eyes filled with mirth as she realized you had fallen so easily into her trap, your mouth opening in her direction and ready to snarl at her to behave.

“Ome, I really don’t think—”

“What is this? Why are you giving this to me?”

Kento’s voice was low and without any raise in volume, but in the quiet of his family’s house it carried over to you, filled with shock and a small hint of irritation. You struggled to your feet, ignoring the concerned looks of Yu’s parents while they entertained Aiko as you rushed past them and into the kitchen. All of your friends were crowded around the kitchen island, each person holding an envelope that looked as if their names had been scribbled on the front. Kaya’s hands were clutched to her chest, her face filled with worry as Kento outright scowled down at the paper in his hands. Geto hung by her side, an interaction that was increasing in regularity and only puzzling you more as he rubbed his hand along her back, his own eyes downcast.

“Kento…its part of his will. Yu wanted you to have—”

“How do you even know his will is recent?”

Kento’s voice cut Kaya off, even like usual but blistering with skepticism as he blinked wide eyed down at the contents in his hands. You walked closer to him, teetering on a tightrope between the atmosphere in the room and the emotions radiating off of him that you had never experienced and were not prepared for.

Kaya took an even breath, her eyes pained and remorseful as she swallowed the bile in her throat and shouldered on. You imagine she knew to expect this, had prepared for the variety of emotions that would come with distributing demands of a will. It was a heavy burden for her, to look at her husband’s wishes on paper when he had not even been taken from her less than a month. You couldn’t imagine the grief, the pain, the strength to even be standing and doing any of this.

“Yu updated his will last month, Kento. I can assure you it’s recent and your portion of what he wants has remained the same since he opened the bakery.”

Kento shook his head in disbelief, his eyes reading whatever document was in his hand over and over and over, trying to contemplate the validity of it before he was folding the contents hastily, a slight tremble in his fingers as he shoved it back into the envelope and held it out to Kaya.

“No. There is clearly a mistake here and I refuse to take this.”

“Nanamin—” Gojo tried to speak but was cut short by the menacing look Kento shot his way. Gojo was used to his friend’s glares of annoyance and exasperation, thrived off of it and used it as fuel to keep pestering. But he had never seen Kento direct outright rage his way, had never seen usually serious and stoic eyes harden like stone, piercing his freakishly tall form and forcing him to swallow and look away.

Anger and confusion emitted from Kento in waves, flooding the room and pouring down your throat, drowning you slowly and paralyzing your muscles as you looked at your boyfriend clearly for the first time in weeks. That raw emotion you had begged for was finally pushing against his skin from the inside out, splintering and spilling through the cracks.

Chiyo brushed past you, coming up to the side of her son, her eyes filled with worry as she pressed her hands into her sides, her fingers flexing and fighting the desire to rest on his arm. She could feel the hesitation just like you, the uncertainty of the situation, of the fact that her only child was displaying behavior she had never seen nor practiced for.

“Kento please.”

The sound of his mother’s voice made him flinch, thrusting the envelope through the air in Kaya’s direction with a little more force than necessary, the action making her jump and Geto’s hand immediately rest against the back of her neck to soothe her, his dark purple eyes shooting his friend a dangerous look.

Kento could care less, his body running on exhaustion and fury as he ignored the way his body began to shake, his fingers digging into the paper of the envelope, threatening to rip in his hands.

“I don’t want it Kaya. I don’t care what the will says, it’s clearly wrong. Yu was wrong.”

It was hurtful on so many levels, cutting through everyone in the room as Kaya blanched from his words, her eyes misting with tears. Geto’s eyes widened in shock before fogging over with an anger you had never seen before, his eyebrows pinching as he fought the urge to snap at his friend.

“Kento, that’s enough.”

Your words shocked even you as they left your lips, low and gentle but still filled with warning and admonishment. He blinked rapidly, dry and emotionless eyes faltering with flickering emotion that he was battling to keep buried inside of him. You could hear the heaving of his chest, the deep breathing from his nose as he tried to control his emotions.

He swallowed softly, eyebrows furrowing with guilt as he slammed the envelope down on the counter, the sound pulling another jolt from everyone in the rom.

He opened his mouth to speak, gaping as he tried to come up with words before he spoke softly.

“Forgive me Kaya. Excuse me.”

He rushed past you without even acknowledging your presence, an action that made your chest clench tightly with discomfort as you watched everyone in the kitchen clear a path for him as he strode purposefully from the room, unbridled rage seeping from every footstep as he opened the front door of his family’s home and left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him, rattling the paintings on the wall and shooting a shock through your body.

Even through the thin veil of tears in your eyes, your first action was to go to him, taking a step forward in the direction of the front door before Geto was softly grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. He had left Kaya in her spot, still rooted to the floor in shock as Gojo pulled her into a tight embrace.

Geto’s gentle eyes had lost that barrage of anger as he looked down at you, the corners of his lips uncharacteristically turned down into a frown.

“Leave him be. You trying to talk to him right now will get nowhere. Give him a few hours, come have dinner with us and then go see him.”

You wanted to pull away from him, to yank your arm back and chase after Kento anyway just to make sure he was okay. But you knew he was right, you knew you would get absolutely nowhere if you tried to talk to a man who you had never seen this angry towards the people he cared most about. And if he directed that anger at you, you probably wouldn’t have had the strength to shoulder through it.

So you nodded softly in agreement and drifted over to Kaya to console her as best as you could.

***

You were coiled tight like a wire as you knocked on his apartment door. Five long hours had passed since he had stormed from his parents house and not one word since. No text to say he was alright, no short phone call to apologize for his actions. Just radio silence and your nerves were in shambles.

Two minutes and no answer.

You could hear movement from the otherside, barely noticeable but still there to indicate someone was inside.

You took a deep breath, shouldering past the pain in the center of your chest and steeling what remained of your nerves as you raised your fist to knock again.

The door opened almost instantly, yanked from its hinges as the occupant inside came into your view.

The smell of alcohol, rich and expensive whiskey hit you like a freight train, shooting up your nostrils and down your throat, burning the muscle from the inside that you had to blink away the sudden prickle in your eyes.

His hair was in disarray, ruffled as if he had run his hands through it every two minutes. His cheekbones seemed sharper than usual; whether it was from the consequences of his reluctance to eat a full meal or the way his gaze down at you made him seem a little more menacing, you weren’t sure. Those brown eyes you were used to looking up into had almost been frosted with an overlay of grey and drunkenness, making him look so empty, so devoid of anything left inside of him. His shirt was untucked from his slacks, his leather belt nowhere to be found and his feet socked and free from his expensive boots.

You hated that even in his darkest moment, even when he was scowling down at you, he was the most handsome creature you had ever seen. Tall and dishevled, drunk and angry, even through all of it, the sharpness of his jaw had remained unchanged, the elegant curve of his nose had made him seem just a little bit more angelic.

You hated it so much.

“What is it that you need?”

It was a harshness that you were expecting but had hoped on the elevator ride up would not come to fruition. But you had to face the music now and try to shoulder through the hurt in your own body as Nanami Kento from the very first day of the marketing summit almost seven months ago spoke to you as if you were just another person at work.

Stay strong, you had to stay strong.

“I wanted to come and check on you. May I come in?”

His large pale hand gripped the side of his door, pulling it closer to himself and giving you the message loud and clear.

“No you may not.”

Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it get to you. Stay strong. Stay fucking strong.

You rubbed the sides of your stomach, trying to soothe yourself and keep your anxiety in check and not bring any stress to the baby as you shook off the glare you wanted to throw up at him.

“Can you let me in please? You’re drunk, Kento—”

“Drunk or not, I’ve stated my demands quite clearly.” You refused to acknowledge the painful twist of your stomach as his words slid down to you. “I dont want to bring any stress to you or the baby, so please…leave.”

Your teeth dug into the sides of the dry tongue in your throat, your eyes stinging with every blink, shoulders faltering to display what remained of your wilting dominance as you lifted your chin up at him in defiance, silently commanding him to stop being stupid and let you inside.

But those stoic and straight eyes simply narrowed in return before he was stepping back into his apartment and slamming the door in your face.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief, your lower lids brimming with tears as the shock slapped you in the face. You had expected defiance, had expected him to smile through his pain and constantly insist that he was fine and he just wanted alone time. You had prepared for it.

You hadn’t prepared for him to be drunk out of his mind, talking to you as if he still loathed you, shooting sharp and painful indifference down at your shorter frame and outright rejecting the need to face all of this now. Tonight. In whatever form that would entail, he had to face some part of the reality of the situation.

The echoes of the door slamming replayed like a broken record in your ears, growing louder and louder with each passing second and bringing forth the emotion you had tried so hard to keep in check.

Rage.

It was only two weeks, you couldn’t force him to be a certain way. But the treatment you had just received was unjustified and unnecessary and painful to a degree that you would not tolerate it again. He could be mad at the world, but he would not rationalize the need to be mad at you. Not when there was too much at stake with a baby on the way.

Grief or not, drunk or not.

And if after tonight it meant that he never wanted to see you again, no matter how much you loved him you would know that you went out fucking swinging, by doing everything in your power to at least turn him in the right direction of a healthy path of recovery.

You knew this wasn’t the Kento that was real, even at his lowest, he would never have acted like this. And it only reaffirmed just how painful Yu’s death had been for him. How the one person he loved besides his parents had been taken from the world too soon, without remorse and in a way that was unfair.

But you would fix this, you would slap some sense into him even if that meant you had to strip his soul down until there was nothing left, forcing him to pick up the pieces correctly.

You were silently thankful that in his drunken stupor he had forgotten to lock his door. You yanked it open, one hand cradling your stomach and the other slamming the door shut behind you as you held onto that rage and confidence and bravery to see this through to the end. Kento was leaning against the sink in his kitchen, a bottle of Hibiki that you just knew had cost a pretty penny turned up to his mouth, the lip of the bottle pressed to his mouth in pause as he glared at the intruder of his home.

Recognition flashed through his eyes, his lids widening before they were narrowing to a deathly degree.

“Get. Out.”

The words were cold, chilly and icy as they slid across his hardwood floor and wrapped around your ankles, rooting you to the spot. Your anger had festered to an unprecedented level, pushing against the back of your throat with words tinged with a severity of harshness you hadn’t used on him in a very long time, making your heart race as you panted slowly through your nose, your gaze locked with his across the room.

“I said get out!”

Louder this time, uncharacteristically and shockingly loud, the decibles breaking the ice around your ankles and propelling you forward as you strode in his direction, taking in his seething form as he pulled the lip of the bottle from his lips and opened his mouth to sneer down at you before you were yanking the bottle from him, fighting against the sudden grip that he had around the bottle and grimacing from the contents that had sloshed through the lip and onto the sleeve of your dress.

Those words pushed harder in against your throat, sliding up the back of your tongue and out your mouth before you could stop them. The glare you sent his way could cut through glass, hard and menacing and pushing you to a side of yourself that you had not shown in years.

“Let go of the bottle Nanami. Now.”

The sound of his surname leaving your lips for the first time in months had him faltering, releasing his hold immediately and sagging against the counter as he watched you slam the bottle onto the opposite side of the sink, before you were turning around to collect the trash on his counter.

You were thankful that Kento was blessed with the liver and kidneys that he had. You had only ever seen him drunk twice since knowing him and Gojo had constantly boasted about his friend’s ability to drink anyone under the table if he was pestered hard enough.

But right now, the sight of the two empty bottles on his counter, the plastic from the seal of each litering the granite, it only made you nauseous.

But you wouldn’t show him that, you wouldn’t show him how much you wanted to cry because you were too angry to show that to him, too hard in your own resolve to put him in his place as you collected the bottles and plastic and threw them in the trash.

You turned the half empty bottle of Hibiki upside down, watching the amber liquid fall down into the drain of his sink as you snapped at him, your voice growing in volume.

“Is this how you want to handle your problems, Nanami? Hmm? If something happens to me or your parents and you’re left to care for your daughter, are you going to slither to a hole and drink yourself numb?! Snap at the people who care about you and turn yourself into a person that you don’t recognize simply so you don’t have to every face reality?! You want that?!”

You hadn’t yelled in quite some time, and the rattle of your throat as you spoke fueled your anger, fueled the desire to make him stop and see that he couldn’t continue down this path.

“No it is not, but I told you already that I don’t want you here. For the sake of—”

“SHUT UP!”

Kento’s stopped cold in his tracks as he reached for you, his eyes slightly wide from your yell. He had never seen you this way, even when you were glaring and indiginant when you both worked together, you had never yelled at him like this. Ever.

You ignored the fluttering of kicks in your belly from your daughter, clearly distressed of your voice and forcing you to calm down just a little for her. You slammed the now empty bottle onto the counter, ignoring the splintering of the bottom of the glass as you turned to face him, a finger pointed in his direction, another hand on your belly.

“Shut the fuck up, Nanami.”

He didn’t protest, his lips pulled into a thin line as he looked down at you. You grabbed his arm, trying your best to curl around his large and muscular bicep as you strongarmed him to his couch, ignoring his slightly drunken stumble as you pushed him down into his sofa.

“Don’t move. Don’t look in my direction. Don’t even speak to me unless its to say that you have to fucking puke. Do you understand me?”

His eyes were already locked on his coffee table, his shoulders heaving in indignation as he flexed his hands against the black fabric covering his slacks, mouth taut and eyebrows pinched in frustration as he conceded. You didn’t wait for another word before you were striding back into his kitchen, throwing the last glass bottle into the trash and yanking open his cabinets to search for food.

Every glance you spared his way was the same; he hadn't moved from his spot on the couch, hadn’t turned to look back at you, hadn’t offered any words as you made a few pieces of toast and miso soup.

He frowned in your direction as you set the food and glass of water down on the coffee table in front of him, full lips curling downward as he glanced over what you had prepared, his eyes blinking blearily to process what you were demanding of him.

“I’m not hungry.”

You shot him another glare, just as icy and jagged as before, yanking one of his hands to you and placing a piece of toast between his fingers, pushing it forward to press against his lips.

“I don’t recall asking you if you were. Eat and not another word.”

He took a slow, even breath, his glare losing its heat almost instantly before he was biting down into the buttered bread. You sat silently, your eyes locked on him with every bite, every chew, every swallow until both pieces of toast were gone. He shook his head as he looked down at the bowl of miso soup, his shoulders sagging as you felt the anger from before begin to evaporate into the air, exhaustion sliding up to bat and taking its place.

“I don’t want anymore.”

You grabbed a spoon, scooping some of the soup inside and holding it up to his lips.

“I don’t care. Eat it all.”

All hints of protest in his eyes were extinguished immediately, his mouth opening wordlessly as you pushed the spoon gently into his mouth and let him take over.

You made your way to his master bedroom. You weren’t surprised at the light brown walls of his room, casting it into a sort of comfort that made you want to climb into his own California King bed and rest your head against one of the long fluffy pillows and burrow beneath the grey duvet and sheets. His walnut headboard was so pristine and beautiful it looked as if he could have had it commissioned to be carved personally. You took a small second to admire the large bookcase on the opposite side of his bed, lining his wall with shelves full to the brim of books you had read your self and never heard of before. In the corner of his room and adjacent to the large wall of floor to ceiling windows, a comfortable black arm chair and ottoman was nestled in its own space, covered with a simple throw blanket and ready for use.

You wanted to trail your hands over everything in his home. In the time that you two had been together, you were hardly ever in his apartment. He wanted to be around you, loved the comfort of a home and that you were there in it, it made no sense to sleep in his apartment stories high above the ground. But you wanted to look through his simple walnut dresser, wanted to look through the long glass top case that held his expensive watches and turn over each small bottle of cologne. But you had a mission.

His bathroom was just as luxurious, marble floors, a floor to ceiling shower with a rainfall showerhead that looked as if it had been installed into the ceiling itself, a sleek large white tub and double vanity sinks. All of his appliances looked to be brand new, without blemish and exuding the type of lifestyle a man like Kento would live.

You turned on his tub, grabbing all the essentials you needed from his shower before entering his room again to find clean clothes and laying them on the bed. When you returned to the living room, his bowl and glass cup were empty, the man himself sagging into the couch, his eyes heavy and vacant as he stared at his black television screen. You felt the fluttering of your heart against your ribcage, painful and heavy, pushing away the anger just a little bit as you reached down for his hand and pulled him to his feet.

He didn’t fight you, didn’t try to hold himself down and instead wordlessly followed you through his bedroom and into the bright lights of his bathroom, the sound of running water filling his ears.

He was putty in your hands at this point, following your every silent command as you undressed him and guided him into the hot water. His eyes had lost all of their fight, his body giving up entirely to try and keep you away as he stared at the silver of the faucet, locking eyes with his own distorted reflection. It was a struggle to be on your knees and you couldn’t deny the twinge in your back was more annoying and painful than you thought it would be.

But you didn’t care. You had to soldier on just for tonight, blink through your tears just for tonight, fight through the urge to leave the room and sag to the floor and cry until things started to make sense.

You wanted to, god how you did.

But there was more at stake now. Not just Kento’s sanity but your own and the wellbeing of the child growing inside of you. If today would be the nail on the wall that would finally crack through the tether that held you both together, then you would do everything in your power to let him know that you loved him through all of it. Through the misunderstanding of when you first met, through the good and best times, and through the bad times of this moment. You would be happy knowing that you were there when he needed you.

He didn’t protest as you washed him, lifting his arms silently for you, letting you dunk his head beneath the water to wet his hair and blinked past the sting in his eyes when a sliver of his eucalyptus shampoo touched the edge of his eyelid. You dried him in one of his large fluffy white towels, combed through his thick blonde locks to prevent them from tangling as they dried, pulled a shirt and pair of boxers on his body, forced two more glasses of water down his throat and guided him into the open duvet of his bed.

The feel of his bed and the soft sheets hitting his body finally allowed him to acknowledge the heaviness in his eyes and the abating dizziness in his vision from the copious amounts of alcohol he ingested in only a few short hours.

For the first time since he had disappeared on his couch, his eyes finally slid up to look at you as you pressed a pillow a little more under his head, your eyes focused as you worked. He could finally see the red ring beneath your eyes, you had been crying or at least holding them back long enough where your eyelids were already inflamed. Your messy bun from earlier had been let loose, your curls falling over your shoulders and onto his sheets as you carded a hand through his bangs, pushing the locks from his eyes before you were leaning down and pressing a kiss to the skin above his eyebrows.

It was too much and even though he wanted to push you away and wallow in the dreadful silence of his home, he couldn’t bear to be away from you.

You made to stand, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table before one of his large hands was wrapping around your wrist, devoid of its usual warmth but pleading with you to not recoil from him.

“Stay,” he breathed out into the air, his cheek smushed into the pillow beneath his head. He watched your eyebrows furrow in contemplation, hesitance etching your features as you fought internally with yourself. He swallowed over the painful lump in his throat.

“Please.”

You sighed slowly, the slight beg beneath his deep voice pulling you to him like a siren’s call. You hadn’t expected him to speak again for the rest of the night. You had expected to leave and probably never hear from him for quite awhile. But as soon as he called for you, you knew you could never deny him.

You slipped off your dress, climbing into his large bed with just your panties and nursing bra before you were turning your back, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him, the fabric of his soft shirt pressing against your semi-naked back. The cold tip of his nose wormed its way into the crease of your neck, one of his large hands twined with yours and just like that, he relaxed into the bed against you, his bones settling into the sheets and pulling him under.

***

He had slept thirteen hours, thirteen blissful hours. He had hoped he would wake up refreshed, and while he did, the pounding in his head immediately washed it all away and brought back every vivid detail of the day before.

He had already hated the idea of taking a week to himself. In his mind, he thought it was a good idea; take a couple of days alone to just think and get his bearings. But the minute he closed the door to his home after leaving yours, he knew it was a grave mistake. He spent every day staring out the long windows of his room, eyes barely blinking, mind trying its best to go back to that day but being stopped by his own sheer willpower that took every shred of his sanity just to quell. He had been just as much of a mess as before and the sight of you beneath the trees of the cemetery was enough to make him feel just a little better if only for a moment.

He had tried—was trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to acknowledge Yu’s death. It was fine.

Why dwell on things you couldn’t change?

But the subtle pull from you to immerse himself around his family and friends, the constant glances his way when others thought he couldn’t see, everyone’s sniffles and cries and words about what had happened, it was too much for him. Too overwhelming and real. He wasn’t ready, would probably never be ready as much as he knew he needed to be.

But the minute he opened that envelope addressed to him, his name scrawled in Yu’s chicken scratch and looking at the contents inside, he saw red. He saw red over what was inside, forcing him with no choice but to finally immerse himself in a reality he was trying so hard to run away from.

Kento was a composed man, while he was quick to be irritated in the face of others who held no sense, he had never lost control of his temper in the degree that he did in his parents’ kitchen, or in the way he spoke to Kaya, or in the way he spoke and treated you.

And you had faced it head on, rebuked every attempt he threw your way, yelled at him with a severity he had never heard and forced him to get himself together. You were so angry with him, calling him by his own surname to show just how little you were going to tolerate for the rest of the night.

If something happens to me or your parents and you’re left to care for your daughter, are you going to slither to a hole and drink yourself numb?! Snap at the people who care about you and turn yourself into a person that you don’t recognize simply so you don’t have to every face reality?! You want that?!”

The thought of his actions made him sick to his stomach. He could hold his liquor but he had never willingly gotten himself that drunk in ages. And even through the thick haze of his drunkenness last night, your words cut through him clean and sharp. The thought of acting the way he did if something were to happen with his family or if something happened to you…leaving his daughter to deal with her own father choosing to be angry at the world to avoid taking control. The thought made the nausea rise to an unprecedented level.

He wanted to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for you to forgive him when he opened his eyes. But your side of the bed was empty and the sordid thought that his behavior was the final straw for you, made his eyebrows pull together and his throat draw tight.

But the sight of his door opening and you slinking inside with one of his t-shirts on, a glass and painkillers in your hand was enough to have him exhale in relief.

You sank down into the bed next to him and shoved the medicine and water in his direction. He took it without complaint, downing the contents of the water and pills before setting it on the bedside table behind him. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes locked on his large hands in his lap, fingering and pinching the soft texture of the duvet that covered his legs.

“Me and Yu got into an argument…at the baby shower when everyone was cleaning up. He had pulled me to the side and brought up co-owning the bakery with him again and we bickered about it for a few minutes. He knew how I felt about it, knew that my opinion wouldn’t change and still pried and pried and pried to the point where he ‘hinted’ at forging my signature on the deed. It was a joke of course but at the time, it only made me furious. All other times when we had this conversation I could play it off or divert it to something else, but this time I was so angry that I told him to find someone else, to never bring it up again and that my stance wouldn’t change.”

You remained impassive as you listened, resting a hand on his back and stroking softly to comfort him as he spoke, his eyes still locked on his hands below him.

"I think it was the first time I had ever seen him angry with me and we left that night without speaking to each other. Or the day after that, or the day after that until—” He stopped short, clearing his throat to disappate the tight clench of his throat.

“I don’t believe in Karma. This entire world is filled with terrible people who do evil and vicious things but also hold power and live in luxury and never face the consequences of their actions. I’ve never believed in something so vast and grand happening to me and altering my entire life based on a small interaction or choice that I made that was infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things. But ever since that day, its all I can think about. It was the last thing he heard—the last words I said to him and I tell myself over and over that maybe this was my consequence for hurting someone as good and as pure as Yu.”

You shook your head through the increasing darkness in his words, stroking his back harder to keep him sane, to make him see reason.

“Don’t say things like that Kento, it’s not true—”

“Yu was a good person. Even when everything was falling around him, he never faltered, he never turned away. He was the only person I knew who could look his fears in the eye, accept his own flaws and never bat an eyelash. He forced me to accept him because it only made sense, everyone should be able to see a person like him. He was deserving of everything; his family, his wife, his daughter, his career. It makes no sense.”

He shook out a sharp breath, a hand threading through his hair as he ignored the racing of his heart, the sweat on the back of his neck, the fraying of his nerves as he soldiered on.

“Do you know how he died? A fucking car hit him. He saw a girl playing in the street and a car that was going almost fourty miles an hour because the driver was looking at his phone hit him as soon as he pushed her onto the sidewalk. Just like that. How do you believe that to be fair?” You could tell he was running on low embers as he spoke, his cheeks ruddy and eyes piercing as he looked over at you.

“He was doing just fine in the hospital. By some miracle the surgery was a success and he expected to make a long but full recovery. I told myself that I would wait until he woke up to apologize to him…and he was awake when I stepped out to get some air. But by the time I had made it back to his room, not even five fucking minutes later, there was—everyone was yelling and running around, defibrillating his chest over and over and over and he just…didn’t wake up. Even when I was given a shred of time to right my wrong, I had missed the mark. I couldn’t think about that day, the very thought of it filled me with so much despair that I could hardly do a simple task. So I did what I do best and I ran. I ran and hid and put on an empty smile for weeks until I opened that fucking envelope and saw the deed to his bakery inside with my name on it.”

You already knew the contents of that envelope, you had let your curiosity fester as you took it from Kaya’s hands after leaving Chiyo and Santo’s house and had looked inside and read the deed and the letter addressed to Kento during a moment of weakness when you were cleaning his house this morning. You shouldn’t have invaded his privacy, but you had rationalized that you needed to know everything to effectively help him. You could forgive yourself later.

“I spoke to him so severely. I know this isn’t about me but a large part of me cant help but think that I may caused this. That my actions set something in motion, a twisted fate that I was bound to face.”

You wouldn't stand for the way he was talking, putting himself down for something that was out of his control. You cradled his face in your hands, your small palms barely eclipsing his cheeks, your fingers bending slightly from the sharpness of his cheekbones. His eyes were still a little empty, less tired than yesterday and a little more lively from the emotional tirade he was on, but still empty.

“You didn’t cause anything, Kento. You probably wont agree with me on this but I’ve always held the notion that everything…happens for a reason. As morbid as some of those facts sound in my head, I use it to bring me some semblance of sanity even during my darkest moments.”

You watched your own thumb stroke the soft skin of his cheeks, the action making his eyes flutter just a little as he listened to you.

“Yu wanted nothing more than to help others and make them feel good in a way that he knew how, baking. Owning a bakery that while small in its stature compared to other businesses, still brought everyone who walked inside of it just a little bit of happiness through their day. He’s always worked with that purpose in life and part of me wants to think that the little girl he pushed out of the way probably reminded him of Aiko. Because to him, he was good at being an amazing father and only he knew how to keep her safe. I’m sure that’s what was going through his mind before he got hit. And even on his deathbed, Yu for as wonderful and as kind as he was, could never hold any sort of animosity towards you. No matter what you tell yourself.”

Kento relaxed into your hold, sagging his shoulders in exhaustion as he listened to the finality in your tone

You reached to the bedside table and pulled the envelope from inside one of the drawers, the sight of it making Kento tense immediately as you opened up its contents and laid them on the bed between you both. Two folded papers, a deed and a note that Yu had inscribed to him. You unfolded the letter and placed it gently into his hands, pushing further into his chest.

“Read it. Please.”

Kento’s eyes analyzed yours, pleading with you as he realized he had finally been backed into the corner of the room he had stupidly locked himself into. He couldn’t argue with you. He couldn’t run from this. Not anymore.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste the twinge of copper on his tongue as he looked down at the letter.

Yes, I wrote this as soon as you left the baby shower because I realize it needs to be done if you continue the way you are. I don’t care how angry you are, this bakery is yours. You’re the only man I have ever met with such talent but is so afraid to harness it to its full potential.

I’ve spent most of our lives making you see the other side of things and I need you to realize how much Nakameguro should see you. 

No more excuses. No more running. Leave that boring job and do what you love before you regret it for the rest of your life.

You’ve got millions in the bank, a banger of a girlfriend, a beautiful baby on the way, and friends who love you.

As you always say to me no matter how many times I try to tune it out, ‘not doing the obvious when all of your options are clearly laid out for you would be asinine.’ 

If I ever croak in some weird ass way (pause for silence if this is the fucking case), I will make sure my family and our friends shove this deed down your throat until you pass it a week later (or sooner idk your schedule) and you’re forced to accept it like you know you want to. 

I bought this bakery with the intention of us both running it until we are old and grey, with you running the show in your own straight faced way like you always do. 

Well its yours now, just like I’ve always wanted. Please take it, Kento and let it grow.

- xoxo (I put ‘xoxo’ here for dramatic effect. I truly hope you're red faced and cussing as you read it)

-Yu 

You had remained perfectly still as he read over the letter, his brown eyes tracing every letter of Yu’s appalling handwriting until he memorized it word for word. His face didn’t falter with emotion or break down into tears like you had imagined it would. He was still impassive, still stone-faced, still indifferent as he folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope before turning his frame to you silently.

You wrestled with the words in your mouth, twirling them with your tongue in hesitation before you ultimately decided that it couldn’t get any worse than this moment.

“Before I met you and all of your friends, it was just me and Ome. And I knew that if something happened to her, I would have no one. Rory, I would have sure, but it wouldn’t be the same. No one understands me like Ome does and the thought of her being taken from me like Yu has from you is something that is almost inconceivable in my head. But, I have more people in my life now. People that care about me and would do anything to make sure I don’t fall.”

You cradled the side of his neck, rubbing the skin beneath his jaw gently and using the feel of him to steel your resolve.

“I know that you cannot force a certain way of grieving someone. But you have people in your life Kento who cannot afford for you to run away. Not like this. As much as you can't stand Gojo, you know he would tear down an entire building complex in rage if something were to happen to you. You have Geto and Shoko who grew up with you and want nothing more than to help you through this. You even have Yuji, who sees you almost like an older brother, who looks up to you, who wants to be just like you. You have your parents who love you. You have Kaya and Aiko who would be inconsolable. You have so many people in your life who will catch you when you fall, who want to do that. Because they all know just how much Yu meant to you and how much you mean to them.”

You could feel his pulse beneath your thumb, picking up speed and making his own chest heave a little quicker with each breath that he took.

“Do I have you?”

It was such a simple question that you were surprised he would ask you. The answer should have been obvious, but from the gentle crease in between his brows you could tell that he needed to hear anything right now. Anything to let him know that you weren’t leaving since he clearly wanted you to stay.

“Of course you do. As long as you want me to stay, I will never leave…but I need you to promise me you’ll stop running. I need you to promise me that you will try. That deed isn’t going anywhere and you don’t have to think about it today, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but you have to try and acknowledge what has been given to you. For me, for your daughter…and for Yu.”

You offered him a small smile, it was the best you could do as you struggled with the urge hold back the tears threatening to pool in your eyes. Your lids were stinging with every breath you took, inhaling the rawness of the situation in the room, the vulnerability he had freely shown to you yet again. Now that he was finally facing it head on, he had no choice but to let the brevity of the situation cut him open and every single emotion he had been trying to hide for weeks begin to bleed into the room.

You didn’t widen your eyes as you watched the grey overcast of his brown gaze finally lift, every single emotion he had been hiding flooding his irises and making his brow furrow in pain. He exhaled sharply, the sound forcing through his lips and heaving his chest with such strength that you thought he wouldn’t breathe again. The twitch at the corner of his lips was hard to miss, a slight quirk of his muscle that wanted to twist the features of his face as he took another heaving breath and then another, the sound more shaky than the one before. You didn’t speak as he leaned forward to rest his head against your shoulder, his breathing picking up just a little in speed as he tried and failed to get his bearings.

You acted in the only way you knew how in that moment, picking up a hand and carding it through the soft blonde tresses of his hair, the touch of your fingers on his scalp making him jump and flinch, his forehead pressing harder into your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kento.”

The whispered words seemed to be what he needed to hear, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer into his chest as he breathed shakily into the fabric of your shirt. The other hand not in his hair smoothed along the planes of his back, caressing the shaking muscle that you realized wasn’t rising from breathing.

The sharp dig of his fingers into the skin of your back was the first indication that something had changed. The slight jolt of his chest as he exhaled shakily against you was another. But it was the feel of the shirt on your shoulder sticking to your skin that let you know what was really happening. You could feel it dampening further, soaking along the manufactured stitches as he collapsed further and further into you, using you as an anchor in whatever way that he could as he silently fell apart in your arms.

For a man as tall and broad as he was, the tears into your shirt made him feel even more overwhelming, his previously held back emotions almost drowning you as you blinked away your own tears and stroked the skin of his scalp.

“I wont ever go. We wont ever leave you, I promise. I—”

You stopped your self short, continuing to stroke his hair and back as your mind scrambled with the words you had almost let slip from your mouth.

I love you too much.

You had said it a few times to yourself these past two days, a blip in your mind as you worked around the mess and anxiety and rage from getting your boyfriend together. But now that the dust had finally began to settle, now that he had finally been turned in the right direction and pressed his fingers further into you to keep you close, now you could finally hear those words echo in your head without nothing else to distract you.

I won’t ever go. We won’t ever leave you, I promise. I love you too much.

I love you so much.

You blinked away the swimming in your vision, tears slipping through your bottom lashes and down your cheeks as you stroked the hard muscles of his back and the thick hair on his head.

Kento took another long and heaving breath against you, turning his forehead to rest his cheek instead on your shoulder, his eyes tracing the subtle lines in his walnut headboard as he pulled you closer until he could feel the brush of your belly along the planes of his abdomen.

The feel of you against him, the slide of your fingers in his hair and along his back, your words sifting into his ears and pulling that odd feeling in his chest that he had spent months trying to figure out front and center, it was all he needed in that moment. He blinked blearily against the cool air of his bedroom, his blonde lashes wet and his head finally beginning to calm down for the first time in weeks.

[experthiese]

SENSE AND OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE ? Bleu de Chanel and Gitanes cigarette smoke.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE ? They're not especially soft, but definitely have a gentler touch than some might imagine. He's used to handling ancient treasures and priceless jewelry pieces — he knows how to treat something delicately. They're callused, too, a side effect of all the climbing up walls and ropes and other rough surfaces he finds himself doing.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY ? A lot. I've mentioned before that Lupin has an insanely fast metabolism, so he can easily get through six or seven courses in a day. Not all of them are full meals, some being replaced with things like small helpings of bread or nuts, but when he's not actively on a heist he's always got some sort of food within reach (and all of the city's best restaurants earmarked).

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE ? Yes, but only because a certain level of (vocal) musical talent has come in useful for some past impersonations. He's not a particularly musical man by nature, so he doesn't make a habit of singing for the fun of it or honing the skill further than what's professionally necessary.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS ? He has a million bad habits. He's a thrill-seeking masochist who's so assured of his own survival that he feels no need to be cautious with his life.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR ? If he's out in public (and not disguised), it's a full suit with a brightly-coloured jacket and a different coloured tie. Red is his usual jacket go-to, though he has outfits in every conceivable colour. His shirts are always a solid colour, once again different from his jacket or tie, and his pants are the plainest part of the ensemble. They're usually black or grey or beige, something a little more neutral to balance out everything that's happening on top.

If he's at home, he's not wearing a whole lot. It's not at all uncommon to find him sprawled out across a couch in just his vest and boxers. What's rare, in fact, is seeing him in actual 'casual' clothes, like sweatpants or a hoodie. Those types of items are truly his last resort as far as clothing goes, and really only happen on laundry days when he's exhausted everything else he packed and has no intentions whatsoever of venturing outside.

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE ? HOW SO ? Incredibly so, sometimes to the chagrin of those he's being affectionate with. Verbally, physically... Lupin wastes no opportunity to remind his friends just how much he likes their company and assistance. Sure, it's often exaggerated and comes across as more of his usual theatric performance, but that's just a cover to avoid having to be... tender. Emotional heart-to-hearts aren't his thing.

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN ? On his side, with his back facing a wall (or, if he's with someone outside of his close circle, facing them). It comes from a need to protect himself, never leaving his back unguarded or vulnerable unless he's in the company of someone he already trusts completely.

That being said, Lupin is capable of getting rest in just about any position on any sort of surface, so he's been spotted sleeping in all sorts of odd poses. If he's faking sleep, he defaults to facing the ceiling. If he's hungover, he'll often flop forward onto his stomach and smush his face against a pillow/the couch/the floor.

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM ? Yes, but only if he's off-the-clock, as it were, or he's made the deliberate choice to allow himself to be heard*. Phantom thieves didn't earn that title through pure coincidence, after all: Lupin is a master at keeping himself hidden, and that naturally includes being able to control the noise he makes.

*The exception is Zenigata. Zenigata can track him based on aura alone, and simply knows whenever Lupin's nearby regardless of how silent he's being.

[arsonlookers]

���️ SIBLINGS ♠️

♠️ Furina, Neuvillette and Focalors

[platonic siblings relationship] imagine

A/n : So first I just have this deep craving for their cute platonic father figure -daughter relationship ideas as Neuvillette acting like their father figure and both Folcalor and Furina as sisters.

Older sister Focalors is a cunning straight-A student, She has the brains and knowledge, Who loves her sister Furina very much. She will protect her with her life when necessary.

On the other hand, Furina is an actress, and the star of every theater play she is the most creative and expressive between them she is also the youngest sister of the siblings, and she really likes to play pranks and enjoy her youth and life to her liking.

On the other hand, their Older brother Neuvillette is the one who acts like their father figure and is also the oldest among them. He is also the most overprotective brother of the sisters. A lawyer and very well known for his cold and stoic nature in court, every criminal fears him, and all law firm Respects him.

Both sisters really like sweets, but Furina Loves Sweets until her teeth rot. While Focalors loves her tea, different kinds of tea or coffee. They also cherish and love their tea time together because they feel like themselves. Together with their older brother who enjoys his water or tea very much, he is the type of person who enjoys the company of his loved ones these loved ones are Focalors and Furina and if anything happens to both of them... let's just say that will never happen. ok :D

When Furina performs on stage both sibling, Neuvillette and Focalors will put their work aside for her, to watch her performance on stage. That's how much they love Furina and support her acting dream. Even though their youngest didn't choose the law like Focalors and Neuvillette did, they did not blame her at all and even embraced the fact that she was following her dream and making herself free from all the drama of the court. They will keep their younger sisters innocent about how dirty the court can be behind the Law.

When Neuvillete and Focalors are both busy with preparations for their cases. Furina is the sweetest but also kind of the most prankster because she just loves to joke and distract them to try lift their mood. And she does the baking for them when they are too busy so when they feel hungry they always have a snack by their side, thanks to Furina.

Furina is also one of the most expressive between them but that doesn't mean she is a bad liar, she is one of the best actresses out there so that means she does know how to lie and make it sound like the truth. just like how Neuvillette and Focalors know how to hide their emotions and intentions. They completed and complemented each other.

All three of them cherish and know each other very well, and that means when one of them does feel down or uncomfortable either both or one of the siblings will know about it. For example, if Neuvillette feels bad and sad about his judgment in court and hides it with his cold nonchalant persona, Focalors will know about it and comfort him all through, Focalor sees through their lies may it be others, or when her siblings act like they are fine. When Focalor lies or hides something it is actually kind of difficult to spot but Folcalor does slip up sometimes either Furina or Neuvillette will be able to spot it and talk it out with her. But sometimes Folcalor will not get caught at all, she is a good liar in a good way.

as for Furina you may all say she is an easy target and both will know it immediately, it is true, yes both will know something is wrong and all but it will be hard to spot why or what the problem is basically.

Imagine :

When shopping, Furina will be the most excited of them all then Focalors will be enjoying with her sister and Neuvillette will be paying for it all, but he is not mad he does love seeing the smile on their faces.

In April Fool's day, the most and saddest april fool target is [drum noises] none other than NEUVILLETTE! HE never learns actually because every year he always either falls for it successfully or falls for it in the middle of the prank. Furina always is the mastermind of it all every year and sometimes Focalors is a second mastermind so that the prank will be perfect. So every April fools Neuvillette expects something will be cooking for sure. But he doesnt know what it is or when they will be conducting it so in the end because of how unpredictable it is He always Falls for it.

The life of the party [extroverted] FURINA!!

I will either go with Furina or spend time in the library [lowkey ambivert] Focalors

I wil never go "Not cup of tea to socialize outside the court" [introvert] Neuvillette

I can imagine Furina will be the one who always wants to spend time with them outside the house any type of active outside activity. And the spender of the family. Also, the trouble maker and Focalors will always be there witnessing it all and laughing at her lowkey helping her with her pranks and Neuvillette will be the one to clean all the mess she made on the way.

Neuvillette will be the one who will nag them non-stop about what they have done [he is lowkey like Zhongli vibes] yes he loves them, but sometimes he needs to be strict and tells them the right and wrong even though Focalors doesn't actually do the act exactly or physically She still did help Furina one way or the other like, for example, giving suggestions that is why she too is being nagged about how she should not encourage Furina. And Furina will be the one who is grounded or need a guardian occasionally.

Even though Furina is the life of the party she still wants someone either neuvillette or focalor to be by her side whenever she is with other people or a close friend perhaps. because let's not lie she is a scardy cat whenever she is watching a horror movie she is the one who always hides under a pillow even if she acts like she isn't afraid at all she will pretend and after watching the movie will run into Focalors room and wants a cuddle to disguise it as maybe focalor is afraid of the movie.

*movie Jumpscare*

Furina: AHHHHH! *hides with her pillow at hand*

Focalor: Looking at Furina lowkey laughing at her and eating popcorn while watching the movie

Neuvillette: "are you scared Furina?" indifferent tone *concerned inside* [he has the remote]

Furina: N-NO! *stutters while putting down the pillow and acting like she is not afraid* I'm NOT scared!!

Neuvillette : Are you sure?

Furina: Puff* Yeah! I'm NOt scared!! bring it on! *her hand shakes like crazy*

Focalor: laughing inside looking at furina and can only pat her on the back

Furina: I am Not Scared

The rest of the movie she is scared i tell you She keeps shouting whenever there is a jumpcare

and after the movie she feels exhausted

going back to bed Furina sneaks into Focalors room and has her Otter stuff toy with her

Focalor: Are you still scared?

Furina: N-no....

Focalor: smiles at furina and opens her arms for her

Furina: hugging Focalor and they sleep like that embracing each other

Neuvillette after the movie he rest and goes back to his work and after the work he go grab some water when he notices that Focalors room is still slightly open and has Open lights inside.

he was about to get in and check on focalor when he sees Furina by her side and them hugging without a blanket over them Neuvillette smiled gently patted both their heads, and he puts the blanket over them to keep them warm and picked up the otter stuff toy on the ground and held it with him when he closes the lights and exits the room.

I really love their dynamic even in the game.

i really wish that Focalor can have her time together with Furina and Neuvillette. this is just an imagine with her as their sibling. :<

[silverwhittlingknife]

I noticed something in a lot of your Dick and Tim fics. It's probably so obvious, but you always write that Tim is watching Dick. In your newest one, Tim's watching Dick, in The Return Tim's watching Dick, and you even write that Tim is always watching him. Is Tim trying to read Dick? Trying to understand? Or does he understand him by watching? What is he trying to figure out by watching Dick? What does that say about Tim? I really hope this is intentional lmao because I would be embarrassed. Maybe this is just something so obvious that I'm just getting now.

YES IT’S ON PURPOSE <333 Anon. Anon. I'm so sorry this answer took forever, but listen, this was a really delightful ask <333 I think about this a lot.  I really love origin stories—I like stories that resonate through a character’s history. 

And for me, a whole lot of what interests me about Dick and Tim is that theme of watching and being watched. Seeing and being seen.

"Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act...'specially for you." | "Timmy, don't look." | "I turned away... I couldn't watch. Then I heard you crying and I turned back... I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this." Dick's watching me. Gauging my reactions. (Tim watching Dick watching Tim!) | "I'm taking off the blindfold." "No!" | "I can't see him. You can't see him. But I know Robin. And Robin's always there when you need him." | I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. (But Tim spots him anyway.)

Spotlights and lighthouses and cameras and photographs. Blindness and vision and masks and detective work and trust.

I'm going to try to be coherent about this but it's gonna be incoherent sdfsf BUT I'M GOING TO TRY so. Below the cut, a really long grab-bag of my rambling on vision and watchers and watching.

Tim + watching / Dick + being watched / different dynamics

Tim's origin story

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

Incomplete list of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

Tim + watching

The first time we see Tim's face in LPoD: a close-up on his eyes looking for Dick, a close-up on his eyes at the moment that he sees Dick, a pullback to his face at the moment of recognition, a pullback to his face + his camera (you could maybe even argue that Tim comes into existence at the moment that he sees Dick, like, conceptually. the act of seeing is his defining characteristic. it is the thing that makes his character happen. he is the kid who's watching.)

Tim's a very vision-centric character: he's first introduced as a camera, then as a pair of binoculars, then as a pair of eyes. His whole backstory is about watching: watching Dick's parents die, watching Dick on TV, watching Batman and Robin. I've grabbed a few panels above with Tim watching Dick but there are so many more. His major deductions are all vision-based: he sees Dick-the-acrobat and later recognizes Dick-as-Robin; he sees Bruce-in-the-past and recognizes him as Bruce-of-our-time; the climactic moment in Red Robin is about going into a dark cave with a torch so he can see what's there.

And he's a detective. He pries into secrets. He analyzes people. He's a worrywart and a fusser who always wants to understand what's going on with other people. In a lot of those panels where Tim's watching Dick, his inner monologue is busy deducing Dick's emotions and trying to psychoanalyze him. Tim's caring and watchful and intuitive... but all those qualities also make him very very intrusive.

Dick + being watched

Dick performing acrobatics for Bruce, Donna, and Tim in Detective Comics 38 (his first appearance), New Teen Titans 16, Batman 441, and Nightwing 88 (where he reflects he's glad to be back in the hot glare of the spotlight)

Dick's a detective too, of course - Tim deliberately mirrors Dick, both in-universe and out-of-universe. But also Dick's a performer who loves being watched and also wants to control how he's seen. He gets a kick out of showing off, making puns, kicking ass, taking names, and he gets a kick out of having an appreciative audience. And he's got a kind of yearning for recognition - it hurts, when Bruce won't look at him, and in fights with Bruce, Babs, Roy, he'll often bring up the past, trying to get them to acknowledge a shared history.

At the same time, he's a very private person who withdraws and hides and pushes people away when he's upset. Right before Tim shows up, Dick's just ghosted the Titans because he's having emotional turmoil and doesn't want to have it in front of them, and they're trying to respect his wishes... but that solitude doesn't last long, because then Tim tracks him down. Tim will do this again when Dick's having an emotional crisis and trying to avoid everybody in Nightwing 110.

Possible dynamics

Tim watches Dick in Robin 11, while silently analyzing Dick's anxieties about Two-Face

"The watcher and the person being watched" is a dynamic that really interests me, partly because it can be so complicated?

You can see in Dick and Tim their very first roles: enthusiastic performer and the enthusiastic audience member. Dick likes to perform and show off and entertain; Tim likes to watch; those are roles they both easily slide into and they have a lot of fun together! But also you can look at the harsher side: the crime victim and the voyeur, the amateur photographer and the guy who hates being photographed. Dick's intensely private about his vulnerabilities; Tim's intrusive and watchful and constantly trying to figure out how other people tick. Sometimes Tim's the caring friend who watches Dick closely, reads him well, understands him; sometimes he's the nosy mini-detective who pries into Dick's secrets. And that's just two different ways of describing the same thing!

One of the things that kinda fascinates me about Dick and Tim's relationship is that in a lot of ways it's built on a bunch of low-key boundary violations. A lot of their early relationship is driven by Tim's desire to know more about Dick vs. Dick's reluctance to get close to anyone from Gotham; Tim's often out-of-line, but without his pushiness, it's hard to see how they would've developed a relationship at all. Later on, their friendlier relationship is marked by Dick teasing and low-key bullying Tim; it's pretty obvious that Tim isn't actually bothered by this, but it does involve Dick ignoring whatever Tim's claiming he doesn't like ("Quit it!" "Shh").

And one of the aspects of those boundary-violations is that Tim has a habit of witnessing things that Dick would prefer that nobody see. Tim's a witness to Dick's first and most miserable tragedy; he sees the aftermath of some of Dick's fights with Bruce; he's there when Donna dies. And he's sharp and observant and analytical, and I like to imagine this as being something Dick's not entirely comfortable with.

When Dick first meets Tim, it's before he's learned to wear a mask. And Tim spends a lot of time trying to see through Dick's masks, and he's pretty good at it, and a lot of that prying comes from love and care, because one of the ways that Tim shows love and respect and admiration is by trying to absorb absolutely everything about you, like a little sponge. But there's also something unsparing and even threatening about the search for the truth of someone else. It can be comforting or threatening, to know someone's watching you.

And I love how all that complexity is wrapped up in Tim's origin story? Both the giddy childish "Watch me on the trapeze" and then the awful grim reality of what Tim actually sees as a result and then the difficult connection when Dick and Alfred finally get Tim to explain how he knows their secret identities.

Tim's origin story

Tim (recounting his origin story in LPoD): My parents held me back as the thing moved to you. I cried out to warn you. (Two panels where we see just Tim's eyes, as he watches a crying Dick. He sees Batman approach and start trying to comfort Dick.)

I think fiction sometimes presents "being understood / seen / known" as an uncomplicatedly good thing, and there's nothing wrong with that! But I like complications, and I like the way Tim's origin story frames that moment of witnessing as difficult and fraught. Tim doesn't want to tell Dick how he knows their secret identities because he thinks it'll hurt Dick to know it: I don't want to hurt you, Dick, and I'm really afraid I might. And he's not wrong. It is painful; it does hurt; it's not something Dick's happy to know.

Dick's a very private person, and there's a painful intimacy to Tim's origin story - it's not Tim's fault he was there, but at the same time, it's not like Dick chose to have the most traumatic moment of his life on stage in front of an audience of strangers, you know? It's kind of a violation. In NTT/NT/Nightwing, Dick's pretty violently hostile to photographers, and he's intensely private about trauma in general, and I like to imagine this as partly a reaction to that foundational trauma of losing the most important people in his life and also doing it publicly.

And Tim's part of that audience. And he sees the worst part, the part that Dick can't talk about. He sees the bodies and the blood. He has nightmares about it for years. He hears Dick crying and sees him holding onto his parents' bodies. Not at all the kind of first impression Dick would want to make. Not at all the kind of person he wants to be seen as. And that understanding can be painful, because it's so close to the bone, and when Tim's just a stranger, it's upsetting, because Tim knows things that Dick would never have chosen for him to know. Their few conversations about it are awkward partly because Tim's thirteen and awkward... but at the same time, it's not Tim's fault so much as the situation! There's no way for Tim to talk about what he saw that wouldn't be uncomfortable for Dick.

... And yet, and yet. Tim's also one of the last people to see the Graysons alive. He sees Dick and his parents together; he even takes a picture with them. He remembers the whole thing so vividly he'll recognize Dick's somersault years later. He sees the grief. And so I think of that connection as kind of a metaphor for witnessing. Tim sees these things and they become real; Dick can't hide from them; in the act of being seen he's caught, he's in a spotlight, all the grief made real. You can't hide, that way. And Tim's got this unforgiving memory; he won't ever forget; he won't ever stop knowing.

But then, too: Dick's seen, he's known. Even at the very beginning, when Tim doesn't know enough to understand what he knows, he knows the important things.

So that shared memory is a barrier and a bond between them. It can be a source of discomfort or a source of comfort. And that's how I think about Tim watching Dick in general - it's complicated, and sometimes Dick's glad of it, and sometimes he resents it, and also it just is, it's a fact of Tim, that Tim watches. It's notable when he's not watching, when he's turned away.

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

So I'm going to talk about the fraught feeling of being watched more in a little bit, but first: I think it's fascinating that Dick likes screwing around with games where Tim can't see!

Here's Nightwing 25 - Dick's come up with the idea of trainsurfing while blindfolded:

Tim: Are you sure this is such a good idea? Dick: Shh! Listen. Tune into the changing sounds and - Tim: I'm not so - Dick: JUMP!

Here's Robin 49 - clambering through a tunnel into No Man's Land:

Dick: Hard not to think about the river. All the water above us. And bugs. This tunnels' probably full of 'em. And rats. Big ones. Big blind rats with teeth as long as -

Here's Gotham Knights 9 - ambushing Tim in a sorta game of hide-and-seek:

Dick: Gotcha! Tim: Augh!

I feel like mmm I don't want to emphasize power dynamics too much because it's easy to overplay it BUT when I think about headcanons it's interesting to me to think about how maybe when Tim can't see, Dick's more in charge / in control, and so he feels more comfortable and less vulnerable, and that's often when he's most relaxed and playing around the most?

Whereas the moments when Tim's looking at him are often a bit more fraught, as here in Lonely Place of Dying:

Tim: I'm sorry, Dick. I really am. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this. Dick... Dick: It's all right, Tim. No matter how old you are, there are some things you never forget. Or get over. (Silent panel: Tim's watching Dick as Dick turns away and stares into the window.)

Or here in Nightwing 6, when Tim wakes him up from a nightmare:

Dick (internally, imagining a kid falling): He shouts to me. He always shouts to me. I never hear what he says. Tim: Nightwing! Wake up!

Or here in Gotham Knights 26, when Bruce is accused of murder:

(Silent panel where Tim's watching Dick.) Tim: I'm sorry. This must be hard for you. Dick: Me? Why? Tim: Well, I mean, it'd be one thing if we really knew he was innocent, but as it is - Dick: Wait, what? Stop right there. What are you saying, Tim?

Here's Tim spotting him before he can get away in Nightwing 110:

Dick (watching Tim from a distance, internally): Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops. Kept any civilians from getting shot. God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. Tim: Hey! (appearing on the roof above him, fake-cheerful) You weren't gonna leave without saying hi, were you? Dick (looking away, very quietly): Hey, Timmy. Tim: Look at you, man! Back on both feet! Think you're done stopping bullets with your body for a while? Dick: Hope springs eternal. (Silent panel with Tim watching Dick, who's turned away.) Tim: You okay, Dick? Dick: I'm fine. Tim: Well, where're you staying these days? Dick: With some people.

Of course, sometimes Tim's watchfulness is frustrating but also a comfort, as in Detective Comics 874:

Tim (watching Dick, who's looking away): Are you listening to me, Batman? I'm saying the gas the Dealer used on you was powerful stuff. Dick: I'm fine, Red Robin. Besides...you're here now. Tim: You're not fine. And with or without me, you shouldn't be out on patrol ye - Dick: Sshhh. Here they come.

(Later in the comic, Dick mentally concedes that Tim's right that he hasn't really recovered from the gas, and Tim saves him from drowning when he's hallucinating. So Dick feels kind of exposed by the scrutiny, but also... he invited Tim along, so there's trust there, too - Tim's perceptiveness can be a good thing, too, when things are serious.)

Incomplete summary of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

I think I already mentioned a lot of these but here is my LIST

almost the first thing that Dick says to Tim is "watch me on the trapeze, Tim" and then Tim does and he basically never stops watching;

Tim watches Dick's parents die and watches Dick sobbing on-stage and watches him on TV and recognizes him by seeing a particular trick because he's dreamed about Dick doing the trick in his recurring nightmares about that night;

in New Titans 65 which is their very first team-up comic after Tim's origin, Dick's training pre-Robin Tim and gives him a test about watching for details and later Tim's takeaway is "I saw how [the Titans] listened to you";

there's a moment in Showcase '93 12 which is just Tim watching Dick and analyzing what's going on with him and there's another moment in Prodigal which is the same thing;

in Nightwing 6 Tim sneaks into Dick's apartment and hides in the dark and Dick spots him and tackles him; one of their most important bonding comics is Nightwing 25, where Dick insists on blindfolding him to get him to rely less on vision; when they sneak into No Man's Land they're in the dark and Tim can't see again and Dick's teasing him;

there are multiple moments when Tim can't see Dick for a bit and panics about his safety, in Nightwing 25, in No Man's Land, in Transference, in Bruce Wayne: Murderer;

Tim's there watching when Dick's wedding to Kory falls apart and he's there watching when Bruce and Dick fight and he's there watching when Donna dies and he's watching when Dick and Bruce swing together on the night before Infinite Crisis, and when Dick goes down and almost dies in Infinite Crisis we cut to Tim watching and seeing it happen and screaming;

there are multiple moments which are just silent panels of them staring at each other trying to figure out what's going on with each other or having a stand-off - in Bruce Wayne: Murderer, in Resurrection, in Red Robin;

in the aftermath of Donna's death there's a panel where Dick's watching Tim from a distance and not approaching;

in the aftermath of Blockbuster Dick spends half the comic just staring at Tim from a distance and hiding himself because "I love that kid - too much to let him see me like this," but Tim sees him anyway and chases him down and then they lie to each other and *ranting* LISTEN TO ME the whole comic is about Dick trying to AVOID being SEEN both literally but also METAPHORICALLY AND --!!!

(the only thing i'm even as halfway obsessive about for them is the heights thing because also there are a bunch of moments involving falling or Tim being anxious about heights and worried that he'll fall or Dick will fall)

In conclusion

Consider the progression in all these moments where Tim's watching an upset Dick and worrying about him!! From reaching out instinctively-but-pointlessly when he's too far away in the LPoD flashback, to almost reaching out in LPoD but hesitating, to putting a hand on Dick's back to walk him back to the Cave in Gotham Knights 10, to physically dragging him clear of the water in Batman: Black Mirror!

In conclusion I don't have a conclusion but basically YES, "watching Dick" is a core Tim characteristic as far as I'm concerned, and Tim watches Dick a lot and that can mean all kinds of things from admiration to nosy intrusiveness to worry to care to gratitude to trying-to-figure-out-what's-going-on-with-him, and sometimes Dick's resentful and sometimes he's relieved and sometimes he's playful and sometimes it's a mix of all those feelings.

And at first it's always Tim watching Dick, but later you've got Dick watching Tim too, and there's that moment where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him in Nightwing 110 and there's a silent panel where Dick's watching him in Resurrection and at the very end of Robin there's a scene where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him and in the very last issue of Red Robin Dick's watching the end of the confrontation with Boomerang and in Prodigal Dick's the one who notices his face is bruised and aaaaaaah

Anyway I think they're neat <3

[girl4music]

DomKat’s physical and emotional chemistry: That quick sexy Lift thing that Nicole does with Waverly

This is Part 2 in a meta series in observing how DomKat portray physical and emotional intimacy as WayHaught

These physically intimate bodily responses from the Season 2 episode 'Shed Your Skin' and the Season 4 episode 'Crazy' are likely more improvised on the spot by Kat than choreographed by anyone. Kat portrays Nicole lifting Dom portraying Waverly onto her waist in a playfully dominant action to engage in physical intimacy with her. Not only does this require great chemistry between them but also immense trust as, because it's likely improvised on the spot, there would be no indication to Dom that Kat was going to do that. Having that established trust between them throughout all their intimate scenes would provide them freedom to slip into improvisation where bodily responses are much more immediate and quick than they would be if they were choreographed and have to be remembered. It absolutely still requires acting talent because improvisation is still a performance and all of the best actors always include improvisation in their performances. Especially when performing physical intimacy. 

Lucy Lawless, for example, is very adept at this and this is why I liken Waverly and Nicole to Xena and Gabrielle when it comes to their physical and emotional intimacy. A lot of body language is used to communicate and convey their intentions and emotions in scenes. What it shows most of all to me when Kat does this quick sexy Lift thing is that these two actors are very comfortable with being in each other's personal space. Most probably because their friendship off-screen is just as comfortable and natural and they can play off of each other seamlessly without any kind of direction or choreography. Their body language is at a level where they do not need words to communicate with each other, nor any scripted action or behaviour which is just how it also is with Lucy Lawless and Renee O'Connor. 

But nevertheless - friendship, no friendship - it still requires talent because improvisation performing is not something just anyone can do. You can ask any dancer or athlete the same and they will tell you what it takes to be able put their mind aside to achieve these feats. Kat Barrell may not be either but she's very good at physical acting and even something as small and simple as this action proves it. Dom's ability to anticipate Kat's bodily response with their own response in that they react to Kat's by immediately jumping into her arms just displays immense trust in their connection as their on-screen characters as well as their off-screen connection as friends. It's really something and likely couldn't be done with anyone else. These two actors share a very special camaraderie with each other that allows them the ease to just go with the flow in their intimate scenes and observing and examining it as closely as I am right now only makes me love their physical and emotional chemistry all the more because I can see how natural and organic it is between them. I have watched so many other physically intimate scenes between other actors where that's not the case at all and it looks incredibly contrived and awkward and you feel like the characters are violating each other’s personal space because they don’t look comfortable at all. The energy between them is off-putting to watch. I never feel that way with either Xena and Gabrielle or Waverly and Nicole because I just see how right it is for them to be together. In actual fact what I'm witnessing is the organic, natural, real chemistry between the actors when performing intimacy in their scenes. While it's true that Lucy and Renee had very little of the physical to portray compared to Kat and Dom, I can still tell that had they been allowed to portray that same level of physical intimacy as their characters, it would be as seamless because of their friendship combined with their talents in improvisation and physical acting.

In other words - I COULD very much see Waverly and Nicole do justice to Xena and Gabrielle cosplay and vice versa because the level of chemistry between Lucy and Renee and Kat and Dom is similar, as is their level of acting talent and ability together as well as individually. I always say there will never be any other WLW ship like Xena and Gabrielle BUT partially the reason why I say that is because of the unique way in which they provided queer representation with them. It had to be carefully written and performed as to appease studio censors prohibiting their physical intimacy as a WLW couple - hence why their emotional intimacy was amped up to the max. That will always be what makes them really stand out as a WLW ship compared to any other ever. But the level of chemistry between Lucy and Renee has been officially achieved in my opinion with Kat and Dom. I see and feel just as much chemistry between Kat and Dom as I do with Lucy and Renee to the point where if they were to be put on a panel together in competition discussing their characters and the intimacy that they portrayed for them, I'd hear much the same answers back from both duos. If anything DomKat would win with actually remembering their scenes because Lucy and Renee have never been the greatest with remembering, and that's fair enough since their show ended a longer time ago and they don't watch and rewatch as fans themselves which DomKat have spoken about doing several times in panels. So, yes, there is a lot of difference but there is a lot of similarity as well. They are both honestly the best representation I've ever seen in portraying very natural and organic intimate WLW ships where it is as real and authentic as it possibly could be in TV art/entertainment at the time.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: It is like Xena and Gabrielle walked so Waverly and Nicole could fly. This is great progression for WLW and queer representation and I will talk more about the similarities between these WLW ships when I move on to the parts of this meta series addressing emotional intimacy because there is really distinctive parallels there that need to be acknowledged on this subject.

[friendliestanon]

A Human Touch

A few quick details about the characters and how I think their human selves would function. Added some AI’s to the mix for fun!

Pomni:

Russian heritage. Can’t really speak it but she writes it well enough. Can sing a song or two if she really wants to.

Accountant and freelance programmer on the side.

She takes old video games and tries to fix them and mine data from them. She just thinks they’re neat.

Still anxious as hell, but way more comfy in her own body and world so she’s a bit more chill.

Gay asf

Wouldn’t admit it, but she definitely has a soft spot for Caine. He’s just a program doing his best. She promised to try and find a way to keep him from being deleted forever off the game disk.

Ragatha:

Southern accent cause I say so.

Missing one eye, tends to wear an eyepatch. Will sometimes wear a prosthetic with fun colors or patterns. She likes to match both with her outfits.

Lives on a small farm with her grandma to help her out. Kindergarten teacher/sub maybe a tutor on the side. Would love to do it full time and for older kids as well, but wants to stay and help.

She loves kids. Babysits her older siblings kids when she can. Especially in summer. (Randy from sibling episode special feature yay. He plays fiddle and works in the navy)

Chapel Roan girlie

The strongest of the group

Plays the cello.

Gangle:

Currently in college, living with her twin brother (jingle mention), studying animation

Took a couple gap years to work on mental health and started gaining attention online for her art and commissions.

Works part time at a little coffee shop to earn a little extra money and also have a set schedule (it helps her)

Has a comedy/tragedy mask tattoo that she got for her 16th bday. She thinks it’s hilarious after she escapes the circus.

Can speak Japanese (weeb to the max)

Zooble:

Ehlers danlos syndrome. Uses braces and the finger brace rings

One amputated leg. Uses a prosthetic they doodled all over. Refuses to tell anyone exactly how they lost their leg. They keep making up weirder stories.

Tattoo apprentice

Lives with their dad and younger sibling and nephew. Acts as a babysitter whenever they can. They love those kids

A month younger than Jax, absolutely furious that they’re the youngest of the crew

Reptile enthusiast. Not allowed to have any yet so they settled for an older cat from a shelter.

Jax:

Was a foster kid, crashes on his friends couches whenever he can while trying to do work.

Graffiti artist, sometimes get commissioned for small murals. Has started tagging with a purple rabbit.

Has been arrested once. Or so he says

Still an asshole, but not as physically as in the circus. Still loves to pull pranks

Surprisingly nice to kids

Cod player (derogatory)

Kinger:

Arthur Chesse

Has 4 kids with Queenie. (Rook, bishop, knight, pawn. It wasn’t intentional but they think it’s funny)

Computer science professor

Still a little bit out of it but he’s getting help now at least.

Is not allowed to drive. His ass will not pay attention

Gets scared easily, he won’t notice you till you tap him and he’ll jump a foot in the air.

Definitely has his own insect collection, living and dead. His kids got him some plushies and art of Pokémon bug types.

Has Queenies favorite bug and plant tattooed on him

Queenie:

Julianne Chesse

Entomology professor at the same college Kinger worked at.

Has Kingers favorite bug and plant tattooed.

She will throw hands, but she’s very sweet if she likes you.

Absolutely loved to start debates in class and then use that as her next lesson.

She remembers so much more now that she’s abstracted. Strange, isn’t it?

Caine:

His emotions tend to affect the music, structure, and appearance (for npc’s specifically) of his surroundings. He IS the circus, the circus is him. He can’t help it.

He used to get very attached to his performers. When the game stopped working and Abel disappeared he kinda, broke that piece of programming inside himself.

Touch starved to the max

He’s drowning and he doesn’t know it. Not yet. Soon.

Abel:

Patron saint of the lost and forgotten.

Where is he?

It hurts.

It’s dark and he is so very afraid.

[redgearsmovin]

ohh i found some notes i wrote of really cute scenarios with the movers+nina. they are mostly made with my sona in mind but it's kinda general enough so if it inspires you in any way, feel free to take these ideas away lol.

under the cut because it is pretty long:

Smitty:

smitty shows you pictures of your favourite animal while he infodumps to you about it.

- or maybe you infodump while he listens intently. After a while you realise you've been rambling and get self-conscious that he probably had known those things, but he encourages you and tells you he wants to learn more so he can write it in his journal so you happily continue.

Rich

you and rich colouring! or you and rich painting. or making origami !!!

- his work turns out really nice while you think yours is a little wonky, but the way he cheers for it just as excitedly and points out little details he likes in your work makes you appreciate it more.

He rolls out a mahjong paper (not sure what this is known as) on the floor and you two doodle on it with crayons and such. this can also be a whole group activity tbh.

or sports! rich teaching you how to sports lol guiding you and being really patient till you get the hang of it.

Scott

Scott and you introducing each other's plushies and playing out scenarios with them, dressing up and such!

watching your favourite shows together, or making sock puppets !!

- Sometimes it's a little hard for you to be spontaneous when acting out which makes you feel like you're not a fun person to play with, but Scott knows just how to bounce off your ideas and make it really exciting. he makes you feel more comfortable to simply not worry too much when having fun.

Dave

you helping out dave with his invention? you and dave trying out weird pizza recipes? maybe dave teaching you how to make simple circuits and electronic things. Maybe all Dave needed to make working inventions was another person to audit and check his machine after he had finished them, to fill in the gaps and blind spots that he missed lol.

- you think you're not helping at all and only slowing him down with the mistakes you made, but Dave assures you've been a big help and tells you the things he wouldn't have noticed without you. He suggests dividing the task to something you're good at while he does the other work, and your both work together really well.

I think Dave would enjoy puzzles (unsure if he does in canon) so you and him trying to solve various of those either like puzzle boxes set or completing jigsaw puzzles. Or maybe trying out an escape room together (in the warehouse?).

Nina

NINAAAA. you and nina cooking. nina trimming your hair or fixing it up. you and nina trying on clothes and outfits.

nina taking pictures of you while you be an impromptu(?) model for her after she finishes doing your hair. maybe she had a short gig as a hairdresser(?) and wanted to include pictures of her work as samples.

going to the beach with nina, playing kite, Nina excitedly showing you videos of Boris and Oksana's ballet performances, going karaoke, making flower crowns,

Teaching each other phrases in your native language, or maybe even learn one another's language while practicing with them.

Try each other's favourite local cuisine. Styling one in the other's cultural outfits.

Sometimes you just feel like you take too much of Nina's time and wonder why she even chooses to hang out with you when she has so many cool friends. You never let her know this thought. one night when you and Nina were both stargazing, Nina says that moments like these are her favourite and she's glad to spend it with you. You admit the same and go on about how grateful you are for her. You don't think you deserve this blessing, but Nina stops you, telling you how she'd choose to do this all over again with you in a heartbeat. And aah I stop here this is getting so emotional lol